Painted Ghosts, page 21
Ria watched how Bijal reacted. He seemed reluctant as he stepped forward with his hand raised, weakly telling Dickie to stop. It was not the same commanding gesture he had used before, making Ria curious now about the relationship between them. She wondered whether they had met before, and whether Bijal’s previous anger had been manufactured to cover up things he knew. She became more curious when Dickie seemed to ignore Bijal’s request, carrying on as though nothing had been done.
Dickie motioned to Padma to give her the box, picked out specks of Ijay’s remains and tossed them in the air, singing:
‘Go in search of other worlds.
Take a boat across the river, pay the ferryman for a safe ride.
Meet the ancestors on the other side.
They come to greet with gifts and sweets
And news of lost souls in the deep,
There you meet your inner self,
Find the karma of your ways,
Things you achieved throughout your days,
Make peace with your deeds
And things done to others through
Your paths and ways,
Make your soul complete
Find chances that you cannot miss
In fast new worlds blessed with god’s final bliss,
Come back again in a new body clean
Put on the coat of life again
Or with god’s will slip away to moksha
Never here again, lost forever, unseen—’
Everyone was dabbing their eyes. Bijal wiped a tear from his cheek.
‘We didn’t ask for this, Daddy-ji?’ Expecting more from him, Madhu frowned at her father who looked scared to Ria.
Ria looked the dancer up and down, perceiving a vulnerability she had not noticed before, and let her intuition guide her. ‘He doesn’t want any more money.’
Dickie nodded. ‘I will do it free.’
Ria was still unsure of her, yet there was something in the sparkle of her eyes that endeared Dickie to her, something hidden or lost, or the residue of hurt and fear, which frightened Ria more. As with the others Dickie was strange to her, loud and belligerent and bossy, and she was reluctant to get drawn too close to her for fear Dickie would take advantage not only of her money, but of her emotions. To Ria, Dickie was a mistress at leadership, could get people under her spell quickly and with the alacrity of a confidence trickster. They should get her to go.
Dickie smiled. ‘I will send this brother on his way for no payment.’
Ria thought she saw movement outside the ruin on the ridge. Another person in a sari had come out and was looking down at them.
‘I ask you one thing,’ Dickie put her hands together in prayer.
‘You people always want something,’ Madhu quickly flashed.
‘You accept me here,’ Dickie smiled.
Wind was flapping the young sapling and clouds were rushing around the sides of the closest peaks.
‘Here?’ Sadie picked up on his word. ‘What do you mean “Here”?’
‘We make our home.’ Dickie bowed her head a little, palms still together.
Padma looked up the hill, following Sadie and Madhu’s gaze, to the solitary figure watching them. Bijal pulled his collar up.
‘Not here,’ Sadie said. ‘Not in that ruin. You don’t make your home here. This is my land. Mine. My husband bought this.’
Krish started crying as the wind brought sleet.
The figure by the ruin went into the building.
‘We have nowhere.’ Dickie told her. ‘This is our home.’
‘No. This is not happening,’ Sadie yelled above Krish’s cries.
Dickie turned to the baby and Krish smiled up to him.
‘Don’t touch him.’ Sadie spun away, starting Krish going again.
Dickie bowed to Sadie, then to all the group, and taking her drum banged a rhythm up the track to the ruin, leaving the mourners in silence.
‘Bijal uncle, get him off,’ Sadie shouted.
Sleet and snow swept over the group with a crack of thunder.
7
‘Who is he?’ Ria muttered when Daya brought her fresh pineapple juice in bed the following day. She could hear Sadie cooing to Krish in the shade outside.
Daya sat on the edge of the bed, a bundle of fabric under her arm. ‘I can’t stop long,’ Daya said. ‘I have to get back to the shop, if I don’t get finished this morning — well, Daddy-ji’s got this contract with a new hotel, all the new uniforms. I mean, it’s big and it means the family’s all right for the next year or two. But Daddy-ji needs to go to the hotel soon and sign it.’
‘He is all right?’ Ria sipped her juice.
‘He gets up later every day and he goes out at night to his friend. I think they drink until late. He doesn’t talk much now. I know he was going to see Dickie last night to get her moved, but where is he now?’
‘Can Madhu help?’
‘She’s seeing that boy again. I know she is. She keeps denying it, says she’s working late in the library, but she’s seeing him. If Mummy and Daddy knew. The best I can do is to get them to find somebody for her,’ Daya fiddled with fabric on the duvet.
‘So the last thing you want is some, well, dancer, who won’t get off Sadie’s land?’
‘I don’t know how they got there,’ Daya sighed. ‘I mean Ijay came over here several times and set it all up with Daddy-ji. I didn’t know the hijra were there until you did the other day.’
‘All through the night, I could hear the drum banging in my head,’ Ria laughed.
Daya laughed with her. ‘It’s a hard life for them — below the Dalits even — outcasts. We should pity them really. They go back a long way. Some people say there’s a tradition from beyond the eunuchs of the Mughal Courts hundreds of years ago.’
‘They know what they want all right, and go for it.’
‘They believe in who they are, Ria. I think there must be a lot of hardship and pain. They save and save for it, go through all sorts.’
‘The operation?’ Ria screwed up her lips then laughed. ‘God.’
‘No anaesthetic,’ Daya said and they cringed. ‘They must have conviction to what they feel about themselves and life. I think they only want to be accepted.’
‘They just survive on blessing babies?’
‘Dickie is like that, but there are some — well, you wouldn’t know they weren’t women. So beautiful, their faces so young. So vulnerable in a way. You look in Dickie’s eyes, there’s so much sensitivity there. Sometimes I think if we could just see them as individuals,’ Daya watched her, ‘trying to make something of themselves,’ Daya said.
‘Dickie can be in your face. I met her on the road before I got here, demanding money,’ Ria told her. ‘I was scared.’
‘I suppose we’re all threatened by what we see as different,’ Daya said. ‘But I don’t think they will do you any harm. They get invited to weddings. Some people see them as a good omen, bringing fertility to the couple. Others drive them away.’
‘And they can survive on what they make?’
‘I think most of it goes to the Nayak, the leader of the group. A dozen or so live together.’
‘Do you think more will come on then?’ Ria was anxious for Sadie.
‘I don’t know. We only know of Dickie and her friend. They’ve got to make their money somehow. Some are, well, they do their work at night.’
‘On the street?’
Daya leaned forward and whispered, ‘Some people say that even married men go to them.’ They giggled. ‘They’re still hated. Some parts of town are dangerous for them. Sometimes they are beaten and driven away.’
‘I worry about Sadie—’
‘Daddy-ji will have it sorted out. You’ll see. I’m sure they’ll move on and everything will go back to normal. I must go, he’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.’
Daya gave Ria a hug, took her bundle of fabric and left. Ria was warmed by Daya, seeing her as another sister.
*****
Ria had rice, dal and mixed vegetables with the family that evening, although she longed for fish and chips and a bottle of lager. The group sat on cotton rugs around the fire in the bowl that Bijal had made, faces lit up, jaws in motion, the bare electric light bulb above them.
Even in the dark Ria was aware of the mountains. They huddled like a great creature crouching over villages and roads. In daytime, walking along the street or by the shops, she felt as small as a world to a star to them.
Bijal chewed silently, no one else spoke and Ria was aware of the tension between Sadie and him. Madhu was picking at her food, Daya was not eating much, and Sadie was eating quickly. Padma sat quietly next to her husband taking small mouthfuls.
‘So what’s happening?’ Sadie stared at Bijal. He carried on chewing.
‘We have to settle this, Daddy-ji,’ Daya pushed the remains of her vegetable curry aside. ‘We must talk.’
He looked up tiredly. ‘I will talk to the police,’ then took another mouthful.
‘You said you would sort it last night,’ Sadie said.
‘I talk to the police.’
‘Sadie’s right,’ Madhu put in, ‘we don’t want these people in our village.’
‘Daddy-ji will talk to the police,’ Padma intervened.
‘You went up to see them on the land last night. You still haven’t told us what happened?’
‘He told them to go,’ Padma said.
‘And did they?’ Sadie was fuming. ‘For all I know he agreed to let them go there.’
‘Daddy-ji wouldn’t do that.’ Daya glanced at Sadie. ‘You have to give things time in India.’
After a pause, Sadie said, ‘I will talk to the police with your uncle.’
‘Daddy-ji knows the police,’ Daya replied.
Madhu drew breath, ‘If the police won’t do anything, you have to think of other ways—’
‘What ways, Madhu?’ Daya quickly snapped.
Madhu shrugged.
Pushing her plate further away Daya said,‘ We’re not getting men with clubs and bats.’
Madhu smiled and leaning to her sister said, ‘I’m sure Sadie will give us something for looking after the land.’
Sadie frowned at her.
‘Daddy-ji is thinking of many things at this time,’ Padma spoke and the group were silenced. ‘He has the big contract. Not just one hotel, but many hotels. Tomorrow he must go up and sign—’
‘They know me at the hotel. I have done uniforms for them before,’ Bijal assured his wife. ‘They do not need me to sign papers.’ Bijal put aside his empty plate and wiped his hands with a tissue. ‘Tonight I will go up the hill to them again.’
‘Even if the land was sold, Sadie,’ Daya leaned towards her, ‘it would take a long time to get the money through. This is India — bureaucracy. You have to think about going back home and coming back again.’
Bijal tossed a short branch on the fire and it popped and crackled for a time.
‘You can’t just take rupees out of the country, Sadie, there’s all sorts of complications.’
The meal ended in silence. Bijal stood up and left the family.
*****
Ria slept late and being the last up she was surprised to see Daya had not yet gone to her father’s shop. She appeared to be trying to console her mother about something on the veranda. Padma was waving her hands and muttering agitatedly.
Sadie seemed to be ignoring Krish’s appeal for breakfast. ‘Bijal’s not come back.’
Madhu joined Daya with their mother.
‘Perhaps Daddy-ji has gone back up the hill with the hijra,’ Daya grasped her mother’s hand.
‘The contract, the contract,’ Padma was shaking.
‘They will give it to him anyway.’ Madhu laughed. ‘They know him up there. Daddy-ji said so. He’s done it before with them.’
Padma still looked worried.
Daya looked anxiously at her mother. ‘If Daddy-ji is still up there, I will find him Mummy-ji.’
Padma wiped her cheeks with her pink chunni, turned and went inside.
Ria sat, rubbing her eyes while Sadie started breast feeding Krish in a shady corner.
Daya took Madhu aside. ‘I know you’re still seeing him—’
‘Some of us want fun,’ Madhu laughed.
Although she wanted coffee, Ria sensed Daya needed her there to hear so she sat pretending to fiddle with a loose thread in the cardigan she had borrowed, tucking some of it back and snapping the remaining line while looking out at the valley.
‘Think of the family. All the town will know. The shame. You won’t get a nice boy.’
‘A nice boy. Who wants that?’
‘You’ll get hurt. Prem is just playing—’
‘What do you know? A man has never touched you. I have to study,’ Madhu pulled away. ‘Then help Mummy-ji with the food.’
‘You’ve suddenly got busy with chores then,’ Daya replied, Ria picking up the sarcasm in her tone: Madhu seemed to do little to help Padma around the house. ‘Now that I need you to come and find Daddy,’ Daya said loudly.
‘I’ll come,’ Sadie called over to Daya after Madhu had gone.
‘You must stay with Krish,’ Daya replied. ‘Ria and I can go. Can’t we Ria?’
‘Now?’ Ria was uncertain.
‘We’ll do what we can,’ Daya put on her sandals. Ria’s stomach was rumbling for breakfast, her face still unwashed. Despite Daya’s pressure for her to wear a Punjabi Suit, she was still in her travelling jeans and T Shirt, with a pink woollen cardigan to keep out the cold.
Ria did not know what good she could do, but got the idea as they were walking that Daya thought she was the only one she could rely on, although Ria was struggling with her apprehension of going into Dickie’s territory, feeling reluctant to get involved.
Morning cloud had evaporated leaving sun-blanched slopes and the glass mountains shone over them when they tramped up the pathway out of the trees. As they trekked upwards she could see the village unfolding below them.
The ruin was on a flat piece of land that fell away quickly to the stream, and with a wide viewpoint of the main valley and rolling green hills beyond. When they reached the rough wooden door with years of peeling paint, the place looked deserted. Daya banged, shouting, ‘Namaste.’ Silence. They looked at each other, then Daya knocked again, shouting, and thinking it was empty they turned to go, but the door was pulled back with a creak.
A squat figure in a sari faced them without smile or scowl. Bewildered, Daya hesitated, and Ria was apprehensive. The hijra looked them up and down.
‘My father,’ Daya began, ‘Bijal.’
‘Not here,’ the hijra was about to shut the door, but Daya wedged her foot in the way. ‘Dickie? Dickie is here?’
‘Dickie sick.’
Ria was hoping nobody was there and they could trot off home and chat about Madhu’s boyfriend.
‘We must see her,’ Daya stepped forward, her hand on the door.
‘Very sick.’ Dressed in a blue sari, the hijra stood, her feet wide apart. In her forties, she was stocky with thick arms and a round face.
‘How sick?’ Ria said.
‘Very, very sick. Up here.’ She tapped under her chin with her fingers. ‘Not get up.’
‘Has she seen a doctor?’ Ria said while Daya kept her hand on the door.
The hijra shook her head.
‘They’ve got no money to pay for one,’ Daya said to Ria.
‘We can get food,’ Ria smiled at the guard, small and rotund in stature with thick black eyebrows. ‘We can get fruits and vegetables for her.’
‘No eat. Go,’ the hijra said.
‘But she should eat,’ Daya persisted.
Ria was annoyed with herself for being drawn into something which she thought was nothing to do with her, a distraction from what she had come to India for. None of this brought her closer to finding her brother.
‘Should we?’ Ria hissed to Daya. ‘I mean, you know what Madhu says we should do.’
Daya did not reply, looking away from Ria, and Ria picked up the disappointment Daya felt for what she had suggested. Ria thought Daya cared too much for too many people and that you just could not live like that all the time.
The guard flinched as though about to shut the door in their faces, but Daya resisted, grasping the edge surely. Ria heard a groan from inside.
‘Go,’ the hijra pushed the door, but Daya held on encouraging Ria to grab it with her.
‘You have to get off this land,’ Ria said, hoping to sound firm and decisive and get it over quickly. ‘You have to go. It’s my sister’s.’
As soon as she had said it Ria sensed Daya’s disapproval: she did not want them to be so direct so soon.
‘We just want to talk,’ Ria said.
The hijra did not blink. Daya let her weight on the door relax, and Ria felt her giving in. ‘Ria. I’ve got to go to the hotel. Even though Daddy-ji thinks it’s all right — can we take the risk?’
Daya had not finished when someone appeared behind the hijra in shadows.
‘Daddy-ji?’ Daya called through the narrow gap in the doorway. ‘Daddy-ji?’
Bijal looked blankly at his daughter, showing only a little surprise in his eyes.
‘You have come to sort things out with Dickie?’ Daya called to him. ‘You’ll get it sorted out, I know you will—’
‘We came to help you,’ Ria said. ‘Is it working?’ She tried not to sound impatient.
‘Don’t forget the Raj Hotel. They’re waiting for you—’ Daya appealed to her father.
Ria saw him shrug his shoulders.
Sensing the hijra guard letting go her hold, Ria pushed the door back open with her foot.
Saying nothing, Bijal took a bowl to a tub of water and scooped.
‘Daddy-ji?’
Bijal was wearing the shirt Ria had given him, although some of the greens and blues had been scuffed.
As the guard at the door stepped back, Daya edged her way in, with Ria following.
Turning, the guard went through a ragged red curtain. Blue plastic sheeting overhead created a gloomy sapphire light that touched jars and plates and bottles on tables and shelves.
Daya grabbed Ria’s hand and drew her through the red curtain.
