Tragic Magic

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

'So this is it," I said to myself, as we left the jetty. 'A mere few hours ago I was sailing past this place and now here I am walking on the lawn in front of the married quarters.' On the top veranda of one of the flats a small group sat talking in quiet voices. A few yards ahead was our bungalow. This bungalow had always been occupied by two keranis (mill clerks), but to provide us with accommodation the junior kerani (Derek) moved into one of the adjoining married quarters. A few steps led to a wide veranda. The bungalow, surprisingly spacious, consisted of two large public rooms, three bedrooms and a pantry, known as the bottle khana, off the dining room. Each bedroom had a bathroom attached with a three-piece suite and hot and cold running water. All beds were fitted with a framework, resembling old four-posters, to support the mosquito netting which covered the frame and was securely tucked under the mattress early every evening.

All furniture was of solid teak, made in the mill. At one time it was dyed a mahogany shade but through the years of many layers of varnish it had become black and taken on a heavy funereal appearance. Later it was fashionable to strip the dark layers and bring back the natural shade of teak which was more pleasing to the eye. The dining room, in spite of the dark appearance, was well furnished with table, sideboard, chairs and extra serving tables. The bedrooms, likewise, had wardrobes, chests of drawers, chairs and dressing-tables. The lounge, however, with its large shabby sofa, the springs of which were broken, and a few equally shabby basket chairs, presented a dismal picture. I could not hide my disappointment, but before I could express it, Ron assured me that the head office had given permission for us to acquire, at their expense, a new suite, carpet and curtains. That considerably raised my spirit. I looked forward eagerly to buying items and planning my own colour-scheme.

What struck me as very strange was the sight of an enor mous black display cabinet standing on high, thin, spindly legs. It was similar to those seen in certain museums and large enough to hold a big stuffed bear or some creature like it. It was completely empty, but on closer scrutiny I found a tiny egg on one of the glass shelves. It transpired it had been laid by a lizard. In passing I may add that I became almost fond of lizards and liked to watch them dashing around the walls catching flies, mosquitoes and moths bigger than themselves. They used to make clear ticking sounds, quite loud in comparison with their size. These little creatures were considered to be lucky. Throughout my years in India I never harmed or killed a single lizard and was grateful that they had this ability to

move like lightning when attacking unpleasant insects. Meanwhile the monstrosity, which I referred to as 'my black joy', was soon banished to a small room adjoining the bottle khana where it provided a certain usefulness. To the left of our bungalow was a hedge dividing the

manager's and salesman's garden from the rest of the compound. In the garden was a large semi-detached house shared by the manager and the salesman. In the grounds grew many stately trees, bushes and flower beds. Along from our bungalow, to our right, was a two-storeyed building divided into four spacious married quarters. Each one contained two public rooms and two bedrooms with bathrooms attached. Between the married quarters and the mess khootie were three tennis courts. In the mess khootie lived the single men and men whose wives were in Scotland. Each man had a lounge and bedroom with bathroom attached. The whole compound, including gardens, tennis courts and the swimming pool, beside the back door of our bungalow, was looked after by an army of gardeners and workers under the supervision of the engineer. All the cookhouses and the servants' quar ters were situated behind the houses. Similar compounds were scattered up and down the river but not all had the spaciousness of Lawrence.

Behind the residential quarters lay the mill buildings and warehouses enclosed by fencing and guarded by watchmen. Outside the gates were the well-laid-out coolie lines where many of the workers lived. The local workers preferred to live in their own homes in the surrounding

jungle. Such then was the scene where I began my life in India.

On that late evening of my arrival to the compound the bearer and the cook were standing on the veranda waiting to welcome me. Both men salaamed me. The bearer, speaking in Hindustani, informed Ron that our dinner was ready. After refreshing ourselves we went through to the dining room and sat down at a table that was meant for a dozen people. The bearer served us dinner. I have no recollection of that meal except that tinned peaches figured prominently.

During the night I was awakened suddenly by the sound of a terrible storm, a howling wind, torrential rain and of something crashing. I sat up in alarm. Beside me, sleeping soundly, Ron didn't even stir. Comforting myself with the thought that perhaps this storm was not so unusual in India I turned on my side and soon fell sound asleep.

The following morning was Sunday. I awoke rather late.

Ron was wandering about the house. 'Do you know,' he said, 'there's been a hurricane, two of the barges laden with jute have sunk beside the jetty and further down in a neighbouring mill a jetty's been smashed to pieces. Have a look at this,' he added, pointing to the garden in front of the veranda. There, a few inches from the bungalow, lay an enormous tree. It had been uprooted in the manager's garden and, smashing through the hedge and narrowly missing our bungalow, had landed on the lawn. We were

very lucky. After breakfast, the manager's bearer called. "The burra sahib,' he said, 'sends his salaams.'

That is an invitation for drinks, Dennis explained. We duly arrived there. I found the manager a courteous, pleasant man. Also present were two ladies and their husbands, who were mechanics in the mill. Lily and Alice were both attractive and friendly. We were joined by Tom, the salesman, holding on for the one at present on leave. The junior kerani, Derek, was also present. The conversation centred on the hurricane and the havoc it had created. They were all amused that I should have imagined that a storm such as this was nothing unusual in India. Both women described how terrified they had been. 'I thought the roof would come down any minute," remarked Alice. 'Were you not afraid at all?" she asked.

'No,' I replied truthfully. 'When I saw Dennis sleeping so soundly I felt there was no reason to be alarmed. This was India.' We spent a pleasant morning. I was glad to have met these two women who would share a part life in the compound. of my

Ron and I returned for lunch and later retired for the customary lie-back. Not being used to sleeping in the afternoon, I got up and wandered about the house from room to room scrutinizing everything that may have escaped my notice. Some voices outside our back entrance attracted my attention.

On going out I was presented by an astonishing spec tacle. It transpired that Derek was having a rather wild party. There were a few men of different ages from the mess khootie as well as the manager and Tom the salesman. Some of the men wore bathing trunks and were diving in and out of the pool. Derek, in bath ing trunks, was prancing around the edge of the pool while holding an umbrella over his head and emulating a tightrope dancer. There were also two young ladies in swimming suits, who had arrived with some men-friends from Calcutta. One of the girls was swimming about while her friend, who had long tresses down to her waist, was dancing on the edge and, at the same time, coyly professing a certain fear of the water. In the middle of the pool one of our stalwart men from Angus, fully dressed in white drill trousers and jacket, was standing up to his waist in the water and calling out encouragement to the girl: 'Jump, lassie, jump. Dinna be faird - I'll kape you - you'll no fa' on yer airse