Amitav Ghosh - The Glass Palace

‘He was kind, gentle.’

‘What more could anyone ask?’ her mother had said. ‘Treasure your good fortune, Uma. Don’t let a day go by without being grateful for what you’ve got.’

A month later, in a train, the Collector had asked suddenly if she remembered the name of the tune he’d hummed that night. Her mind had gone empty. They were heading through the stark flatness of Western Rajputana and she was entranced by the landscape. ‘I don’t remember,’ she’d said. He had turned abruptly away, his face lengthening into a downcurl of disappointment. She had felt a tremor of dismay creeping slowly through her body like palsy. There would be more of this, she knew: these small episodes of disappointment would follow quickly on each other, in a long leaden chain.

Rajkumar’s voice startled her back to the present: ‘Will you help me then, Madame? You are the only person through whom I can reach Dolly now. There is no one else I can turn to.’

She tried to picture Dolly through the eyes of the man who was sitting beside her, this virtual stranger. Suddenly she felt her heart brimming over with tenderness, with love. Whose was it, this love? Was it his? Or her own? Or perhaps both? What would she do if Dolly left? Such brightness as there was in her life came from Dolly, although by rights, it should have been the other way round. It was Dolly who was the prisoner, after all: she was the lucky one, Mrs Uma Dey, of whom everyone always said, what more could you ask? But now, thinking of what it would be like in Ratnagiri without Dolly, she felt tears flooding into her eyes. She reached for the edge of the earthen bench to steady herself and her hand brushed against his.

‘Madame? Mrs Dey?’ He was peering at her, frowning in concern. ‘Mrs Dey, are you all right?’

‘Yes, yes.’ She snatched her hand away. ‘Just a little dizzy. I don’t know what the matter is.’

‘Shall we go back inside?’

‘Yes.’ She rose to her feet. ‘Mr Raha, you still haven’t told me. What is it that you expect of me?’

‘Perhaps you could speak to her.’

‘You must speak to her yourself, Mr Raha. Things never turn out well when there are go-betweens.’

He looked at her closely and then, suddenly, taking her by surprise, he said: ‘The Collector is a fine man, Mrs Dey, a good man. Men like him are worth many—’

‘Yes, of course,’ she interrupted him quickly. ‘Yes. Come let us go in.’

The ayah led Dolly to the drawing room and showed her the open window. ‘Madame went into the garden — just a few minutes ago.’ Dolly nodded: of course, at this time of the day Uma was always to be found under the peepul tree. She went hurrying down the lawn, past the salaaming malis, to the wicket gate. Just as she was fumbling with the latch, she heard voices. Before she could turn back, Uma and Rajkumar appeared before her, stepping suddenly out of the peepul’s gnarled grey beard. They stood staring at each other, all three of them.

Uma was the first to speak. ‘Mr Raha,’ she said quietly, ‘I hope you will not take it amiss if I ask you to leave us for a minute? I would like to talk to Dolly — just a few words. Perhaps you could wait for us here by the garden gate?’

‘Of course.’

Uma took Dolly’s arm. ‘Come, let’s go and sit under the tree for a bit.’

As they were picking their way through the labyrinth of roots beneath the peepul tree, Dolly whispered: ‘What was he doing here, Uma? What does he want?’

‘He was talking. About you.’

‘What did he say?’

‘I think he was trying to tell me that he’s in love with you.’ Uma seated herself under the tree and pulled Dolly down beside her.

‘Oh, Uma.’ Dolly buried her face in her hands. ‘Last night, in your garden, he said so many things to me. It was so strange, so upsetting. I couldn’t sleep, I kept thinking of home — Mandalay, the palace, the walls of glass.’

‘He said you had no memory of him.’

‘I thought not.’

‘Do you then?’

‘I’m not sure Uma. I remember someone, a boy, very dark; I remember being given a little packet of food; I remember Evelyn saying, take it, take it. But nothing is clear. It was so long ago, and whenever I think of it, I am frightened.’

‘I think he really is in love with you, Dolly.’

‘He’s in love with what he remembers. That isn’t me.’

‘What about you, Dolly? What do you feel?’

‘I’m frightened, Uma. I’ve made such terrible mistakes in the past. I promised myself I would never allow myself to make another.’

‘What mistakes?’

‘I’ve never told you this Uma, but many years ago, I thought I was in love with Mohanbhai — our coachman. Then the Princess found out. She threatened us. I suppose she was already in love with him herself.’

‘Did you want to marry him?’

‘I don’t know, Uma. I was very young, and I didn’t really understand what was happening. During the day I would keep him out of my mind. But at night I would dream of him and then I would wake up and think: Why can’t we run away? Why can’t I just wrap my things in a bundle right now, and go down to him and wake him up and say: “Mohanbhai, let’s go, there’s nothing for us here at Outram House”? But where could we have gone? And what would we have done? His family is very poor and they depend on him. In my heart I knew that even if I had begged him he would not have left.

And this was the worst part of it, the humiliation. I would think, to myself, have I too become a servant, in my heart, as he has?’

‘Did you ever tell him?’

‘No. We never spoke, except of everyday matters. And after a while the dreams stopped and I thought, I am free of him now, it’s all right at last. But last night, when I was sleeping in that room of yours, I began to dream again. I was at Outram House, in my bed. There was a mango tree beside my window. I got out of my bed and tied my things together, in a bundle, and slung it over my back. I climbed down and went running through the compound to the gatehouse. The door was open and I went in. It was dark and all I could see of him was his white langot, knotted tightly between his legs, rising and falling with his breath. I put my hand on his body. My knuckle fitted perfectly into the hollow at the base of his throat. He woke up and he looked at me and touched my face. And then he said: Shall we go? We went outside, and when we were in the moonlight I saw that it was not Mohanbhai.’

‘Who was it?’

‘It was him.’ She inclined her head in the direction of the gate, where they had left Rajkumar.

‘And then?’

‘I woke up. I was terrified. I was in your house, in that bedroom. I couldn’t bear to stay another moment. I went and woke Kanhoji.’

‘Dolly. I think you have to tell him.’

‘Whom?’

‘Mr Raha.’

‘No.’ Dolly began to sob with her head on Uma’s shoulder. ‘No. Uma, all I can think of now is the birth of my child. There is no space in my head for anything else.’

Gently, Uma ran her hand over Dolly’s head. ‘The child is not yours, Dolly.’

‘But it could have been.’

‘Dolly, listen to me.’ Putting her hands on Dolly’s shoulders, Uma propped her up so she could look into her face. ‘Dolly, will you believe me if I tell you that I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before? I was just a girl before I met you. You’ve shown me what courage is, what human beings can endure. I can’t bear to think of being without you. I don’t think I could remain here a single day if you weren’t here. But I know this too, Dolly: you must go if you can. You must go now. The birth of this child will drive you out of your mind if you stay on at Outram House.’