Sea Of Poppies Part 28

The women had thought that they'd easily outdo the men in the matter of music, but a rude shock awaited them: it turned out that the groom's team included a group of Ahir singers, and when they began to perform, it became clear that the women would be hard put to compete.

... uthle ha chhati ke jobanwa piya ke khelawna re hoi ...

... her budding b.r.e.a.s.t.s are ready to be her lover's toys ...

Worse still, it turned out that one of the Ahirs was also a dancer, and knew how to do women's parts, having been trained as a dancing-launda back home. Despite the lack of proper costumes, make-up and accompaniment, he was persuaded to rise to his feet. A small s.p.a.ce was cleared for him, in the centre of the deck, and even though he could scarcely stand without hitting his head, he performed so well that the women knew they would have to come up with something special if they were not to be put to shame.

Deeti, as the Bhauji who had organized the wedding, could not allow herself to be bested. When it was time for the midday meal, she gathered the women together and made them hang back in the dabusa. Come now, she said. What are we going to do? We have to think of something, or Heeru won't be able to hold up her head.

It was a withered piece of turmeric, from Sarju's bundle, that gave the bride's side a means of saving face: this root, so common on land, seemed as precious as ambergris now that they were at sea. Fortunately there was just about enough of it to produce a sufficient quant.i.ty of paste for the anointing of both bride and groom. But how was the turmeric to be ground, with neither stone nor mortar available? A way was found, eventually, involving the rear ends of two lotas. The effort and ingenuity that went into the grinding added an extra touch of brightness to the ceremony of yellowing, drawing chuckles even from the gloomiest of the girmitiyas.

What with the laughter and the singing, time went by so fast that everyone was amazed when the hatch was thrown open again, for the evening meal: it was hard to believe that it was already dark. The sight of the full moon, hanging upon the horizon with a great red halo around it, produced an awed hush among the migrants when they came on deck. No one had ever seen a moon so large or so strangely coloured: it was almost as if this were some other lunar body than that which lit the plains of Bihar. Even the wind, which had been blowing strongly through the day, seemed to be refreshed by the brightness of the light, for it picked up another knot or two, deepening the swells that were rolling towards the schooner from the eastern horizon. With the light and the waves coming from the same direction, the sea took on a furrowed appearance that reminded Deeti of the fields around Ghazipur at the time of year when the winter's crop was budding into bloom: then, too, if you looked out at night, you would see deep, dark channels in the fields, separating the endless rows of bright, moonlit blossoms - just like the red-flecked lines of foam that sat gleaming upon the dark troughs of the waves.

The schooner's masts were thesam-thes and the vessel was yawing steeply, with sharp saccades of her sails, leaning to leeward as she rode up the swells, and then easing off as she plunged into the troughs: it was as if she were dancing to the music of the wind, which rose in pitch as the vessel leant to leeward, and fell when she righted her keel.

Even though Deeti had grown accustomed to the motion of the s.h.i.+p, today she could not stay on her feet. For fear of tumbling overboard, she pulled Kalua down to squat on the deck-planks, and wedged herself between him and the solid bulwark beneath the deck rail. Whether it was because of the excitement of the wedding, or the moonlight, or the motion of the s.h.i.+p, she was never to know, but it was just then that she felt, for the first time, an unmistakable movement in her womb. Here! Under cover of the bulwark's shadow, she took Kalua's hand and placed it on her belly: Do you feel it?

She saw the flash of his teeth in the darkness and knew he was smiling: Yes, yes, it's the little one, kicking.

No, she said, not kicking - rolling, like the s.h.i.+p.

How strange it was to feel the presence of a body inside her, lurching in time to her own movements: it was as if her belly were the sea, and the child a vessel, sailing towards its own destiny.

Deeti turned to Kalua and whispered: Tonight it's like we too are being married again.

Why? said Kalua. Wasn't the first time good enough? When you found the flowers for the garlands and strung them together with your own hair?

But we didn't do the seven circles, she answered. There was no wood and no fire.

No fire? he said. But didn't we make our own?

Deeti blushed and pulled him to his feet: Chall, na. It's time to get back to Heeru's wedding.

The two convicts were sitting in the gloom of the chokey, silently picking oak.u.m, when the door opened to admit the large, lamp-lit face of Baboo n.o.b Kissin.

The long-contemplated visit had not been easy to organize: only with the greatest reluctance had Subedar Bhyro Singh agreed to Baboo n.o.b Kissin's proposed 'tour of inspection', and on giving his a.s.sent, had imposed the condition that two of his silahdars would accompany the gomusta to the chokey and be present at the entrance all the while that he was inside. Having agreed to the arrangement, Baboo n.o.b Kissin had gone to great pains to prepare for the occasion. For his costume, he had chosen a saffron-coloured alkhalla, a robe voluminous enough to be suitable for male and female devotees alike. Hidden under the flowing folds of this garment, in a strip of cloth that was tied around his chest, was the small h.o.a.rd of edible treats that he had gathered over the last few days - a couple of pomegranates, four hard-boiled eggs, a few crusty parathas and a lump of jaggery.

This contrivance served its purpose well enough at the start, and Baboo n.o.b Kissin was able to cross the main deck at a stately pace, walking in a manner that was not undignified, although perhaps a little top-heavy. But when he came to the entrance of the chokey, the matter took quite another turn: it was not easy for a man of his girth to pa.s.s through a low, narrow doorway, and in the process of bending and wriggling, some of the gifts seemed to acquire a life of their own, with the result that the gomusta had to use both his hands to hold his heaving bosom in place. Since the two silahdars were waiting at the door, he could not let go of his burden even after he had made his way in: sitting cross-legged in the tiny cell, he was forced into a posture like that of a wet-nurse cupping a pair of sore and milk-heavy b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Neel and Ah Fatt stared at this weighty apparition in astonished silence. The convicts had yet to recover from their run-in with Mr Crowle: although the incident on the fo'c'sle deck had lasted no more than a few minutes, it had hit them with the force of a flash flood, sweeping away the fragile scaffolding of their friends.h.i.+p and leaving a residue that consisted not just of shame and humiliation, but also of a profound dejection. Once again, as through their time at Alipore Jail, they had fallen into an uncommunicative silence. The habit had taken hold so quickly that Neel could not now think of a word to say as he sat staring at Baboo n.o.b Kissin across a heap of unpicked oak.u.m.

'To check up the premises, I have come.'

Baboo n.o.b Kissin made this announcement very loudly, and in English, so as to cast the visit in a properly official light. 'As such, all irregularities will be spotted out.'

The speechless convicts made no reply, so the gomusta seized the opportunity to subject their foul-smelling surroundings to a close scrutiny by the flickering light of his lamp. His attention was immediately arrested by the toilet balty and for a few moments his spiritual quest was interrupted by a more earthly interest.

'In this utensil you are pa.s.sing urine and doing latrine?'

For the first time in a long while, Neel and Ah Fatt exchanged glances. 'Yes,' said Neel. 'That is correct.'

The gomusta's protuberant eyes grew still larger as he contemplated the implications of this. 'So both are present during purging?'

'Alas,' said Neel, 'we have no choice in the matter.'

The gomusta shuddered to think of what this would do to bowels as sensitive as his own. 'So stoppages must be extremely rigorous and frequent?'

Neel shrugged. 'We endure our lot as best we can.'

The gomusta frowned as he looked around the chokey. 'By Jove!' he said. 's.p.a.ces are so scanty here, I do not know how you can refrain to make your ends meet.'

This met with no response and nor did the gomusta require any. He realized now, as he sniffed the air, that Ma Taramony's presence was struggling to rea.s.sert itself - for only the nose of a mother, surely, could transform the odour of her child's ordure to an almost-pleasing fragrance? As if to confirm the urgency of his inner being's claim for attention, a pomegranate leapt from its hiding-place and came to rest atop the pile of oak.u.m. The gomusta peered outside in alarm, and was relieved to see that the two silahdars were chatting with each other and had not noticed the fruit's sudden jump.

'Here, quickly, take,' said the gomusta, rapidly disbursing his trove of fruit, eggs, parathas and jaggery into Neel's hands. 'All is for you - extremely tasteful and beneficial to health. Motions may also be enhanced.'

Taken by surprise, Neel switched to Bengali: You are too generous ...

The gomusta cut him abruptly short. Gesturing conspiratorially in the direction of the silahdars, he said: 'Kindly eschew native vernaculars. Guards are big trouble-shooters - always making mischiefs. Better they do not listen. Chaste English will suffice.'

'As you please.'

'It is advisable also that concealment of edibles is expedited.'

'Yes of course.'

Neel quickly slipped the food behind him - and just in time too, for the h.o.a.rd was no sooner hidden than one of the silahdars poked his head through the door, urging the gomusta to be done with whatever he was doing.

Seeing that their time was short, Neel said quickly: 'I am most grateful to you for these gifts. But may I inquire as to the reason for your generosity?'

'You cannot connect it up?' cried the gomusta in evident disappointment.

'What?'

'That Ma Taramony has sent? Recognition is not there?'

'Ma Taramony!' Neel was perfectly familiar with the name, having often heard it on Elokes.h.i.+'s lips - but the mention of it, now, took him by surprise. 'But has she not pa.s.sed away?'

Here, after shaking his head vigorously in denial, Baboo n.o.b Kissin opened his mouth to issue an explanation. But then, faced with the task of finding words that were adequate to the enormous complexity of the matter, he changed his mind and chose instead to make a movement of the hands, a sweeping, fluttering gesture that ended with his forefinger pressed against his bosom, pointing to the presence that was blossoming within.

It was never clear whether it was because of the eloquence of this signal, or merely out of grat.i.tude for the food the gomusta had brought - but it happened anyway that the gesture succeeded in disclosing something of more than trivial importance to Neel. He was left with the impression of having understood a little of what Baboo n.o.b Kissin was trying to convey; and he understood also that there was something at work within this strange man that was somehow out of the ordinary. What exactly it was he could not say, and nor was there time to think about the matter, for the silahdars had now begun to hammer on the door, to speed the gomusta's departure.

'Further discussions must wait for rainy day,' said Baboo n.o.b Kissin. 'I will try to prepone to earliest opportunity. Until then, please note that Ma Taramony has asked to bestow blessings-message.' With that, the gomusta patted both convicts lightly on their foreheads and plunged headfirst out of the chokey's door.

After he was gone, the chokey seemed even dimmer than usual. Without quite knowing what he was doing, Neel divided the h.o.a.rd of food into two parts and held one out to his cell-mate: 'Here.'

Ah Fatt's hand stole out of the darkness to receive his share. Then, for the first time since their encounter with the first mate, he spoke: 'Neel ...'

'What?'

'Was bad, what happen ...'

'Don't say that to me. You should say it to yourself.'

There was a brief silence before Ah Fatt spoke again. 'I going to kill that b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'

'Who?'

'Crowle.'

'With what?' Neel was tempted to laugh. 'Your hands?'

'You wait. See.'

The matter of a sacramental flame was much on Deeti's mind. A proper fire, even a small one, was not to be thought of, given all the hazards. Something safe would have to be provided instead. But what? The wedding being a special occasion, the migrants had pooled their resources and gathered a few lamps and candles to light the dabusa for the last part of the nuptials. But a shuttered lamp or lantern, like those that were commonly used on the s.h.i.+p, would rob the ceremony of all meaning: who could take seriously a wedding in which the bride and groom performed their 'seven circles' around a single, sooty flame? Candles would have to serve the purpose, Deeti decided, as many as could safely be stuck on a single thali. The candles were found and duly lit, but when they were carried to the centre of the dabusa, the fiery thali was found to have developed a mind of its own: with the s.h.i.+p rolling and pitching, it went shooting around the deck, threatening to set the whole dabusa alight. It was clear that someone would have to be stationed beside it, to hold it in place - but who? There were so many volunteers that a half-dozen men had to be a.s.signed to the task, so as not to give anyone cause for offence. Then, when the bridal couple attempted to stand up, it was only to underscore, yet again, that this ritual had not been conceived with the Black Water in mind: for no sooner had they risen than their feet were knocked out from under them by the heaving of the s.h.i.+p. They both flopped belly-first on the deck-planks and went tobogganing towards the jamna side of the hull. Just when a head-cracking collision seemed inevitable the schooner tilted again, to send them shooting off in the other direction, feet first. The hilarity created by this spectacle ended only when the most agile young men came forward to surround the bride and groom with a webbing of shoulders and arms, holding them upright. But soon the young men began to slip and slide too, so that many others had to join in: in her eagerness to circle the flames, Deeti made sure that she and Kalua were among the first to leap into the scrum. Soon it was as if the whole dabusa were being united in a sacramental circle of matrimony: such was the enthusiasm that when it came time for the newlyweds to enter the improvised bridal chamber, it was with some difficulty that other revellers were prevented from accompanying them as they went in.

With the bride and groom closeted in the kohbar, the ribaldry and singing mounted to a crescendo. There was so much noise that no one in the dabusa had the faintest awareness that events of an entirely different order were transpiring elsewhere. Their first inkling of it came when something fell on the deck, above their heads, with a huge thud, shaking the vessel. The sound produced a moment of startled calm, and this was when they heard a scream, in a woman's voice, echoing down from somewhere high above: Bachao! They're killing him! They've thrown him down ...

Who's that? said Deeti.

Paulette was the first to think of Munia: Where's she gone? Is she here? Munia, where are you?

There was no answer and Deeti cried: Where could she be?

Bhauji, I think in all the confusion of the wedding, she must have sneaked out somehow, to meet ...

A lascar?

Yes. I think she hid herself on deck and stayed on after we came down. They must have got caught.

From the roof of the deckhouse to the main deck was a drop of a little more than five feet. Jodu had made the jump many times of his own accord, never with any ill effect. But to be slung down by a silahdar was a different matter: he had fallen headfirst and had been lucky to hit the deck with his shoulder rather than his crown. Now, in trying to rise to his feet, he was conscious of a searing pain in his upper arm and when pus.h.i.+ng himself up, he found that his shoulder would not bear his weight. As he was trying to find his footing on the slick, slippery deck, a hand took hold of his banyan and pulled him upright.

Sala! Kutta! You lascar dog ...

Jodu tried to twist his head around to look the subedar in the face. I didn't do anything, he managed to say. We were only talking, just a few words - that's all.

You dare look me in the eye, you son of a pig?

Raising his arm, the subedar winched Jodu bodily off the deck, holding him suspended in the air, legs and arms flailing helplessly. Then he drew his other hand back and drove his clenched fist into the side of Jodu's face. Jodu felt a spurt of blood, leaking on to his tongue from a newly opened fissure between his teeth. His vision was suddenly blurry, so that Munia, who was now crouching under a longboat, looked like a heap of canvas pickings.

He began again - I didn't do anything - but the ringing in his head was so loud he could hardly hear his own voice. Then the back of the subedar's hand slammed into the other side of his face, knocking the air from his lungs, blowing his cheek out, like a stu'n-sail caught by a thod of wind. The force of the blow wrenched him out of the subedar's grip, sending him sprawling on the deck.

You cut-p.r.i.c.k lascar - where did you get the b.a.l.l.s to go sniffing after our girls?

Jodu's eyes were half-closed now, and the ringing in his head made him insensible to the pain in his shoulder. He managed to struggle to his feet, swaying drunkenly as he tried to find his balance on the tilted deck. By the light of the binnacle-lamp he saw that the fanawale had crowded around to watch: they were all there, Mamdootindal, Sunker, Rajoo, looking over the shoulders of the silahdars, waiting to see what he, Jodu, would do next. His awareness of his s.h.i.+pmates' presence made him doubly conscious of his hard-earned standing among them, and in a rush of bravado, he spat the blood from his mouth and snarled at the subedar: B'henchod - who do you think you are? You think we're your slaves?

Kya? Sheer astonishment at this piece of effrontery slowed the subedar's reactions by an instant. In that moment Mr Crowle stepped up to take his place, in front of Jodu.

'Why, in't it Reid's little sc.u.msucker, again?'

The first mate had a length of rope in his hands, which he was holding by its bight. Now, drawing his arm back, he lashed the knotted end of the rope across Jodu's shoulders, forcing him to his hands and knees: 'Down, y'little claw-b.u.t.tock.'

The rope came down again, hitting Jodu so hard that he was propelled forwards on all fours. 'That's right. Crawl, y'dog, crawl - I'll see yer crawling like an animal afore I'm done with yer.'

When next the rope came down, Jodu's arms were knocked out from under him and he fell flat on the deck-planks. The mate took hold of his Osnaburg banyan and pulled Jodu back on all fours, tearing the garment down the middle. 'Din't I say crawl? Don't lie there grindin yer gutstick on the deck - crawl like the dog that y'are.'

A kick sent Jodu tottering forward on his hands and knees, but his shoulder could not long take the weight and after a few more paces, he collapsed on his stomach again. His banyan was torn down the middle now, hanging in shreds under his armpits. There was no handhold to be found on those ragged strips of cloth, so instead the mate reached for his trowsers. Seizing the waistband, he gave it a jerk that ripped the frayed canvas apart at the seams. It was on the bare skin of Jodu's b.u.t.tocks that the rope slammed down now, and the pain forced a cry from his lips.

Allah! Bachao!

'Don't y'waste yer breath now,' said the mate grimly. 'Jack Crowle's the one to call on; no one else can save yer bacon here.'

Again the rope descended on the small of Jodu's back, and the pain was so intense, so numbing, that he no longer had the strength even to fall on his face. He went a couple more paces on all fours, and then, with his head hanging down, he saw, framed in the triangular gap between his naked thighs, the faces of the trikat-wale, watching him in pity and shame.

'Crawl, y'sonky dog!'

He lurched another couple of paces, and then two more, while in his head a voice was saying - yes, you're an animal now, a dog, they've made a beast out of you: crawl, crawl ...

He had crawled far enough to satisfy the first mate. Mr Crowle dropped his rope and gestured to the silahdars: 'Take the s.h.i.+t-heel down to the chokey and lock him in.'

They were done with him now - he was no better than a carca.s.s to be carted away. As the guards were dragging him towards the fana, Jodu heard the subedar's voice, somewhere aft.

And now, you coolie wh.o.r.e - it's your turn; it's time you were taught a lesson too.

The dabusa was now in a state of utter confusion: everyone was milling about trying to make sense of what was happening above. It was as if they were ants, trapped inside a drum, trying to understand what was taking place on the other side of the skin: Was that heavy sc.r.a.ping sound, going agil, an indication that Jodu was being dragged to the fana? Was that tattoo of knocks over there, heading peechil, the sound of Munia kicking her heels as she was dragged away?

Then they heard Munia's voice: Bachao! Save me, oh you people, they're taking me down to their kamra ...

Munia's words were cut suddenly short, as if a hand had been clamped over her lips.

Paulette s.n.a.t.c.hed at Deeti's elbow. Bhauji! We have to do something! Bhauji! There's no telling what they might do to her.

What can we do, Pugli?

It pa.s.sed through Deeti's mind to say no, this wasn't her burden, she wasn't really everyone's Bhauji and couldn't be expected to fight every battle. But then she thought of Munia, all alone, amongst a roomful of silahdars and maistries, and her body rose as of itself. Come: let's go to the ladder.

With Kalua clearing a path, she went up the ladder and began to bang on the hatch: Aho! Who's there? Where are you - oh, you great paltans of maistries and silahdars?

Receiving no answer, she turned to face the dabusa: And you? she said to her fellow migrants. Why're you all so quiet now? You were making enough noise a few minutes ago. Come on! Let's see if we can't rattle the masts on this s.h.i.+p; let's see how long they can ignore us.

It began slowly, the noise-making, with the hillsmen rising to their feet to stamp on the deck-planks. Then someone began to bang her bangles on a thali and others joined in, beating gharas and pots, or just shouting or singing, and within a few minutes it was as if some uncontainable force had been released inside the dabusa, an energy that was capable of shaking the oak.u.m from the schooner's seams.

Suddenly, the hatch-cover flew open and the voice of an unseen silahdar came echoing through the opening. The gratings were still in place and Deeti could not see who was speaking nor follow his words. She set Kalua and Paulette to the task of silencing the others and raised her ghungta'd face to the hatch: Who are you up there?

What's going on with you coolies? came the answer. What's this noise?

You know very well what's going on, said Deeti. You've taken one of our girls away. We're worried about her.

Worried, are you? - the sneer was audible - why weren't you worried when she was whoring herself to a lascar? A Muslim at that?