The House of Blue Mangoes (43 page)

More by accident than by design, a group of students arrived outside Daniel’s rooms and began shouting slogans, denouncing the rulers and entreating him to join the agitation. Dr Dorai tolerated the din for as long as he could. When he could bear it no longer, he filled his arms with whatever he could find – cushions, slippers, test tubes, plates, knives – and began hurling them at his tormentors.

Having thrown everything he could at the students, whose alarm changed quickly to mockery at the famous doctor’s bizarre behaviour, Daniel rushed out of the room to confront them. He never reached the boys. Before their frightened eyes, the wild-eyed old man crumpled to the ground. Ramdoss was there within minutes and Daniel was transported to the local clinic, where the doctor diagnosed a mild stroke. Two days later Daniel told Ramdoss that he wanted to see Kannan urgently. In fact, Kannan was already on his way home. No sooner had the Quit India movement begun to gather strength than Dr Boyd closed down the college. He informed the students that MCC would only reopen once the agitation had died down.

68

Kannan went to see his father straight from the station. He was pleased to hear from the young doctor attending him that Daniel didn’t seem too badly affected by the stroke. He had some difficulty chewing, but was fine otherwise, he was told.

Daniel was delighted to see him. He smiled and whispered to Lily to get Kannan some tea.

‘It’s good to see you home, son. Doraipuram needs you.’

Kannan said, ‘Don’t exert yourself, appa. You must rest.’

‘Nonsense, this is nothing. We siddhars know how to live for ever.’

But it was clear that talking tired him and Kannan left after a short while.

That evening, Kannan went for a long walk around the colony and was shocked to see how badly it had deteriorated during the year. Most of the houses needed to be whitewashed and the fabled mango groves were poorly tended and overgrown with weeds. He found Ramdoss waiting for him when he returned. He told a disturbing story. The troubles he had revealed to Kannan years before had spread. The farms and the other initiatives had continued to lose money. Some of the colonists had asked Daniel to make good his promise of compensating them for their land if they wanted to leave, and he’d had to sell his own land outside Doraipuram to pay for the land he bought back. These past months, Ramdoss said, Daniel had occupied himself with all manner of bizarre experiments. His manner had become increasingly eccentric and Ramdoss confessed that he had no idea how long it would take for Daniel to recover fully from the stroke and start taking an interest in the settlement again.

‘You must come back soon, thambi, and help your father. Don’t get involved in politics or any such nonsense. We’re all depending on you,’ he said.

‘A few more months, mama, I’ll be home and we’ll take care of the problems,’ Kannan replied. But he wasn’t nearly as confident as he sounded. First there was the matter of Helen to be resolved, he thought. He was sure his father and mother would find her unsuitable. The daughter of a retired Anglo-Indian P&T employee, with neither money nor social standing, married to a Dorai! No, they would never allow that.

Two days later, Daniel sent for his son. He was propped up in bed, Lily and Ramdoss standing discreetly by. Instinctively, Kannan knew why he had been summoned. For just a moment he panicked, and then he was flooded with a strange calm.

‘Son,’ Daniel began heartily, ‘Ramdoss tells me that the Government has locked up all those Congress leaders and is determined not to give in to their demands. I approve wholeheartedly. A few more months and you’ll be a graduate and ready to take this burden,’ he gestured around him, ‘off my shoulders.’ Kannan waited for the blow to fall.

‘I’m old now and ready to rest. This is what I’ve always dreamed of: my son carrying on the line, taking charge of the family’s fortunes, making sure the Dorai name doesn’t lose its lustre.’ Then came the announcement Kannan was dreading. ‘It’s time you settled down. Your mother and I have spoken to her cousin Isaac. He has a daughter of marriageable age. He’s a modern man and has allowed the girl to finish college and learn Bharatanatyam. You will meet her when they come here for Christmas. Short engagement and you can be married by Easter.’

Dr Dorai smiled at his son.

Kannan’s mind was a blank. Then he heard himself say, ‘Appa, there’s someone I want to marry.’

Perhaps Dr Dorai misheard him for he said, ‘Good, then that’s settled. You will like Shakuntala.’

‘Appa, I have already decided to marry Helen.’ He had said it.

Dr Dorai said irritably, ‘Helen, who is Helen? What is her family? Do we know them? Which church do they worship in?’

Kannan answered slowly, ‘Her father worked for the P&T Department. She’s from Madras.’

‘Are they related to us? What’s her caste?’

He would have to say it. Better to do it quickly. ‘Appa, you will like her. She’s very fair and beautiful . . .’

‘That’s all very well, but family is important. Is she an Andavar? God forbid she’s a Vedhar!’

‘She’s an Anglo-Indian.’

‘Ramu, go and cut a cane for me. My son has grown up but he thinks like a ten-year-old. I think I need to whip some sense into him.’

‘Anna, steady, you shouldn’t get excited.’

‘Excited, excited. You heard him. He has told me he wants to marry some gold-digger he has found in Madras, and you tell me not to get excited . . .’

Ramdoss turned to Kannan. ‘Leave the room, thambi, we’ll speak to you later.’

Not looking at any of them, Kannan left the room. The familiar sense of loneliness overcame him. Tears of anger, shame and humiliation clouded his eyes. As he walked away, he felt his unhappiness congeal within him. His misery dulled and settled. The tears stopped. He would no longer cry when he fought or found himself pushed into a corner.

A great anger consumed Daniel. How could his son let him down so badly, besmirch the dream he had given his life to, all over some scheming woman? Then, from deep in his mind, an image rose of himself at Kannan’s age facing the wrath of Solomon Dorai. He had been haunted all his life by his father’s inability to understand him, how could he behave exactly the same way towards Kannan? Other doubts crept in. He thought of his decision to drop the caste suffix from his name and was distressed that when it really mattered caste was still important to him. And so Daniel struggled with himself, as he attempted to see things from Kannan’s point of view, tried to find a way out of his wrath. But the obduracy of the Dorais stood in the way of understanding. Although Daniel wrestled mightily with his nature it was unyielding and he gave up trying to fight it. He would not compromise. O Lord, he thought wearily, I am become my father.

69

Lily had a secret which she was quite sure she would take with her to her grave, and it was this: three years before she had married, she had fallen in love. The man she’d lost her heart to was a young Dutch creeper, a trainee manager on a tea plantation. He was briefly stationed on the estate where her father worked as head clerk and in that time Lily had absorbed as much as she could of him. From afar. Giddy with the excitement of a young girl who has never known a man, she would hide behind the luxuriant jackfruit tree in their garden, waiting for him to pass on his morning rounds. She would drink in the firm, clean-shaven jaw, the exotic eyes, the fine brown hair that flopped about his face, the peculiarly upright stance.

When he was transferred to another estate, she was not too upset for she hadn’t expected anything to come of her infatuation. And, to her delight, she discovered that the man with the sea-blue eyes continued to visit her in her dreams as she waited for her betrothed across the Palk Strait to fix a date for their wedding. Her love was pure and chaste. What surprised her was that it remained with her for ever. Marriage, children, all the daily business of living, misted over the memory of the young Dutchman, but on the day of her son’s revelation, it glowed in her mind again. Even though she was as alarmed as her husband by Kannan’s declaration and hoped that his romance would fade, her heart was on his side.

Confronting her husband would achieve nothing. She wasn’t even sure she was capable of it. But she wasn’t disheartened. These situations occurred from time to time in every family and all it took was time, and subtle persuasion, to sort things out. Also, while her husband possessed the legendary stubbornness of the Dorais, she was aware that he attempted, as best he could, to temper it with fair-mindedness and objectivity, especially where the family was concerned. He would come round, of that she was sure, in a while.

She worried more about Kannan. In his case, the explosive rage which every Dorai was capable of was augmented by the volatility and emotional imbalance of youth. She tried to explain to him that his father’s rejection of him was temporary, that peace would be made, that he should be patient. But Kannan would not listen. No amount of tears could budge him an inch. Knowing the effect his intransigence would have on Daniel, Lily grew frantic. She persuaded Ramdoss to write to everyone she could think of, pleading for employment for Kannan, when, as now seemed certain, he was exiled from Doraipuram. Of the replies they received, the most promising was a letter from Chris Cooke in distant Surrey that arrived just before the college reopened. A friend of his ran a tea company and was looking for managers to replace his young English Assistants who were going off to war. Kannan might be just what he wanted. Cooke had already written to his friend and was also enclosing a letter of introduction that Kannan might find useful.

70

When Kannan’s train reached Tambaram, he deposited his luggage in his room, washed and changed and went over to Helen’s house. She wasn’t in but her father was, already tipping back his second glass of rum in the warmth of the evening. ‘Have a drink, men, it’s good to see you back. Helen’ll be here soon.’ What wonderful people the Anglo-Indians were, he thought, grateful for the warmth of Leslie’s welcome. Generous, open and full of life, how could anyone not like them? Why couldn’t his father see them the way he did?

Helen returned in an hour or so. As he watched her walking up the road, a great happiness welled up within him, wiping away the misery of the past weeks. Helen’s face brightened when she saw Kannan. She had grown fond of him and his unquestioning adoration was good for her vanity. She was quite sure she didn’t love him, but that was all right because he was rich, and it always helped in a relationship if the less loving one was you. Cynthia had given her this last bit of advice.

‘How’s your dad?’ Helen asked.

‘He’s well. How are you?’

‘I’m fine. Have a rum, men,’ she said, kissing her father.

Kannan settled for a small drink and they moved out on to the porch and sat down. Helen primly extended her hand and Kannan grasped it eagerly. In the two years and more that they had known each other, this was the only liberty she had permitted him. Kannan was telling her how much he loved her when she interrupted, ‘How did your visit go?’

‘Poorly,’ he said irritably. ‘I told my father that I was in love with you and wanted to marry you and he threw me out of the house.’

Helen jerked her hand away. A wave of anger and frustration swept over her. To think she had wasted her time on this insignificant fool. ‘You didn’t think I’d marry you, did you?’ she stormed. ‘Forget it, I don’t want to ever see you again.’

Kannan flared up as well. ‘Go and marry one of those stupid hockey players you used to hang around with before you met me then,’ he yelled, his liking for the community vanishing for the moment.

‘The least of them is better than you,’ she screamed back.

‘And to think I defied my father for someone as worthless as you,’ he shouted, but Helen had already disappeared into the house.

For a week, the pure flame of his anger kept him going. For generations, the Dorai men had looked upon their women as pliant creatures, who would do their every bidding, and it was only his overweening infatuation that had changed the way Kannan regarded Helen. Now he raved and ranted to anyone who would listen, usually Murthy, about how stupid he had been to come to the brink of ruining himself on account of a woman.

Once his rage had died down, he discovered to his dismay that he was as much in love with Helen as ever. She filled his every waking moment and denied him sleep. Hating himself for doing so, but powerless to stop himself, he began to hang around her house, and was sometimes rewarded with a glimpse of her, the confident swinging walk, the small breasts, the shapely calves, filling his sight, his senses, with delight and pain. She would always ignore him and on the two occasions he actually summoned up the nerve to knock at the door and ask for her, she locked herself in her room and refused to emerge until Leslie told him gently to leave.

Kannan found himself brooding over his father’s reaction. If he’d only taken the news differently, he thought angrily, none of this would have happened. Then Helen disappeared. When he inquired about her, Leslie told him that she had gone to visit relatives in the city, and that he had no idea when she intended to return. His days and nights grew even more oppressive. Now he didn’t even have the prospect of seeing her.

One evening as he was returning to college, he saw Cynthia walking towards him. He hadn’t seen her for days and was quick to accost her: ‘Cynthia, I must see Helen, you know . . .’

Something in his aspect must have touched her, because her expression softened and she said quite kindly, ‘Listen, men, forget Helen, she’s not for you, there’ll be other girls. Go make up with your daddy. It’s not worth it.’

He made no reply, but his disappointment showed plainly on his face. She made as if to say something, then shrugged and walked on. He was moving away when she called out to him, ‘Hey, men . . .’

He turned, hope freshening his face, but Cynthia had little that was new to offer: ‘You’re a smart chap, go back home, make money, get married . . .’

‘But I want to, don’t you see? To Helen. Will you talk to her, Cynthia, tell her I’ll get a good job. We won’t need my father’s money, I’ll make sure she’ll live like a princess. I’m sorry I shouted at her, but I lost control of myself. You know, if she will only trust me, give me one chance, she’ll never regret it in this life or in all her lives to come.’