Tikkipala (4 page)

‘Don't be so silly,' scoffed Daisy. ‘I'll be in the other car. We'll be driving one behind the other. And anyway we are going right out of Bidwar, so no one will know who you are.'

How could such a small thing destroy all your happiness. Because of that single moment in which she climbed into Paul's car and sat at his side, she had so nearly lost her child and had destroyed two years of her life.

Now the thought made a chilly shiver run through her.

‘You needn't shiver, Mama because the animal is too far away to bite you,' came Anwar's voice.

‘I was thinking of another frightening thing, darling,' whispered Sangita. Then, to take her mind off her scary memory, ‘Tell me about the animal. Has anyone ever seen it?'

‘Oh, no,' said the child. ‘Because it lives up there and no one else can climb up. But everyone knows about it. They say that it's bigger than an elephant and that it eats tigers and it's got a white face like a gora.'

‘Oh, dear,' said Sangita. ‘It sounds horrid.'

‘And it eats children too,' he went on. ‘That's what the bearer told me. But it never comes down here,' he added quickly.

‘Why not?' said Sangita. She loved the way this son of hers invented things. He is a boy with an imagination, she told herself, and one day he might become a poet or a writer of novels.

‘Because it gets sunburnt if it comes out of the jungle, so it has to stay in the dark. But it couldn't get down here anyway, because the rock is too high and slippery.'

‘How does it find the children to eat, if it never comes down and there's no one living up there?'

Anwar looked worried. ‘I hadn't thought of that.'

They set off in the pair of little two-seaters, the cars dashing along side by side.

‘Isn't it fun?' cried Daisy, her face only dimly visible through the veil of scarlet dust.

She and Paul raced each other out of the town, teasing, shouting, mocking each other's cars, while George, in the passenger's seat shouted noisy encouragement.

Sangita feared that Paul expected the same from her, but she could not do it. She only winced down into her seat, tried to keep her face shrouded with her palu and begged Lord Shiva to prevent any one she knew from recognising her.

It was better when they got out of the town. Here in the countryside she started to feel safer.

‘Hang on, Sangita?' shouted Paul over the roar of the engine and the wind in her ears. ‘I'm going to put my foot down.'

After half an hour Sangita's eyes began to sting from the dust and when she closed her mouth her teeth scrunched with grit. Sometimes she dared to peep at Paul and saw that his English skin was growing scarlet and that the whites of his eyes were blood shot.

‘I think you should pull down the hood,' she shouted.

‘What?'

She gestured to the folded roof. ‘You will get sun burn.' Already his face streamed with dusty sweat.

He had to stop at the road side to get it down in the end. The hood of the new car was still in its wrappings. Daisy and George, their hood up already, rushed by with shouts of triumph.

When Paul got the car started again, all they could see of George and Daisy, was a scarlet puff of dust half a mile away.

Leaning into the windscreen, baring his teeth like a warrior about to launch into battle, Paul pulled out the throttle and thrust his little car forwards, in the direction he presumed Daisy had taken. He was talking, but Sangita could not hear what he said over the sound of the engine and the wind in her ears, which was very loud even with the hood down.

She liked the sound of his voice. She leant back against the seat, closed her eyes and shutting out all other thoughts, concentrated on now.

Later she would worry about getting back to the palace by six, worry about the questions her husband would ask her, ‘I hope you were not alone with any man. I hope you kept your body modestly covered throughout the day, even when playing tennis games.' She pulled off the palu of her sari and let the wind bathe her hot shoulders. Paul was English so would not know that this was an immodest thing to do.

‘I said, isn't this fun?' roared Paul, putting his mouth close to her ear.

The car swerved and nearly went into a paddy field.

She felt his hot breath on her ear. It stirred her hair. She caught the whiff of his aftershave lotion. It smelled of English lavender.

Then something shaky happened inside her, as though her heart was being tickled.

‘Yes,' she shouted back. ‘But where is Daisy's car? Do you think we've taken the wrong road?'

After ten more minutes Paul shouted, ‘There,' and began to pursue a dust puff on the horizon but when they reached it, it turned out to be a pony cart with an Indian family of about fifteen people squashed in.

An hour later they still had got no glimpse of Daisy's car.

Paul drew into the roadside and stopped. As far as the eye could see, in all directions, was only scrub, dotted with a very occasional paddy field. Far away stood a small group of primitive straw huts. Apart from that there was no sign of human life at all.

‘You live here. Do you know where we are, Sangita?'

Sangita winced. ‘I have never been into this part of the country in my life. We have no need.'

‘I'm damned hungry,' groaned Paul. ‘And Daisy's got the picnic. Perhaps there's some kind of village nearby where we could buy a sandwich.'

‘I should doubt it,' laughed Sangita. ‘The people here have never heard of sandwiches, I bet.'

‘Well…' he hunted around in his mind for something Indian instead. ‘A chapatti then. Or anything,' as Sangita shook her head still laughing. She was becoming filled with a sense of not caring. Perhaps she and Paul would stay like this forever, their stomachs rumbling because Daisy had got the picnic, not knowing where they were, in a world entirely devoid of other people. She began to hum a song that Daisy had taught her, ‘Tea for two and two for tea. Me for you and you for me. Nobody near us to see us or hear us…' Paul joined in, and they continued as a duet ‘No friends or relations on weekend vacations…' and came to an end, both laughing.

‘What do you think we should do?' said Paul at last.

‘I think we had better go back,' Sangita said. ‘We'll never find Daisy now. We must have gone in completely the wrong direction.'

‘It's a shame but I think you are right,' said Paul and began reversing to turn on the narrow road till he was facing in the direction from which they had come. Sangita wished they were not going back and felt sad that they would not be picnicking with Daisy and George after all, but she was determined to get every bit of enjoyment out of this return journey that she possibly could. After half an hour they came to a cross roads.

‘Can you remember which way we came?' asked Paul.

Sangita shook her head. ‘But there's a sign post there.'

Paul got out, went over and pulling back the bushes that had nearly obscured it, began hunting for the word, ‘Bidwar' on the battered tin. ‘It's too rusty,' he called at last. ‘I can't read it.'

Sangita followed him and together they tried to make out the letters. It was impossible. They tried to rub the rust away, but when the flakes came off, letters came off too.

‘It's no good,' said Sangita.

‘I think we came along that road,' said Paul.

‘I'm sure it was that one,' said Sangita. She started to feel worried.

The two of them searched in the dust trying to identify the marks of their car, but the wind had been blowing, the dust was deep and fine and there was nothing that they could be sure of.

‘This is it.' ‘No, I'm sure it's this.'

‘Have you got the time?' Sangita asked after a while.

‘Two,' said Paul. ‘Don't worry, Sangita. We've got hours before you need be back.'

‘Promise you won't ever tell anyone that we have been alone together like this.'

He stared at her, laughing. ‘Darling girl, will people really mind?'

The word ‘darling' brushed her heart as though it had been stroked by a feather and sent a little shiver of pleasure through her.

Paul was gazing from one horizon to another, shading his eyes from the blaze of sunlight. ‘I think I saw something. There. Over there. Could that be Daisy?' The two peered into the shimmering dazzle.

‘It looks like it.'

‘This way then. Come on, Sangita.'

They got back into the car and set off again.

An hour later they had still not found Daisy. The car needed more petrol. Paul opened the boot, took out the last can and looked anxious. ‘Do you think there's a petrol garage anywhere around.'

Far away they could see a little field being ploughed with a pair of oxen.

A sharp chill of terror struck Sangita heart.

The memory made her wince then quickly smile so that the little boy would not be worried.

‘And are there any nice animals up there in the high jungle?' she asked him. ‘Or is there only that white faced one that eats children?'

‘There's the monkeys with hats on,' he told her joyfully, then added, ‘Papa is going to buy me a pony of my very own. To ride up here. It's coming tomorrow.'

‘Is he? He never told me. Do you know how to ride?' She felt sad because she had missed so much.

‘Mama,' he cried, shocked. ‘I started riding ages ago. I can't even remember learning it.'

‘Come, sit on my knee and tell me about it.'

‘I'm too grown up for knees,' he said grandly, but all the same came over and leant against her.

‘Who taught you?' she asked, running her fingers through his hair. It felt like silk. She loved the sweet smell of him.

‘Papa of course,' the boy said proudly. ‘He borrowed a little pony from the army, but now he says I am good enough, so I am going to have one of my very own.' He pulled away from her and began jumping up and down in his happiness.

Sangita wondered if she would ever become a real mother, or real wife again.

It had been more than four by the time Paul's car spluttered to a stop.

Paul said, ‘That's the end of the petrol. What do we do now?'

The evening air was still and hot but all the same Sangita felt icy cold.

Paul said. ‘Pity about the picnic. I'm starving and you must be too.'

But oddly Sangita, who had been so hungry several hours before, did not feel at all hungry any more although they had had no food all day.

Then new thoughts came to her. ‘I will just never go back to the palace again. I will run away with this golden boy. He and I will go somewhere where the Raja's men cannot find us.' She allowed the ludicrous thoughts to rush through her head because otherwise she would have felt so afraid that she would have been unable to bear it.
She had to think of something mad, or otherwise her pounding heart might leap from her chest.

After an hour, during which Paul scrutinised the horizon at ever shorter intervals and he came and sat at Sangita's side again.

‘I am sorry, Sangita. I really am. Have I got you into trouble?'

‘Yes,' she said.

‘What will happen to you?'

She shrugged.

He put an arm of comfort round her. ‘Look, when we get back I'll explain everything. I'll tell your husband it was all my fault. He's a reasonable man. He's sure to understand.'

‘I doubt if he will though,' said Sangita and she started shivering again.

‘I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' He looked at her bleakly and did not know what to do.

‘Whatever happens, it's not your fault,' Sangita said.

He looked relieved.

‘It's no one's fault so you don't need to feel guilty,' she said. His arm was still round her. She wanted to lean against him, to get comfort from his nearness, but resisted the temptation. She started feeling dizzy because of so much worry and because she could feel his heart beating so close to her own.

‘Perhaps, when you get your pony, you could teach me to ride. Do you think you could, Anwar?' Sangita saw them being brought together through the riding. She and the little boy having intimate moments which the Raja could not share.

‘But you'd have to get a bigger horse, because my pony will be too small for you.'
He looked his mother up and down, and laughed. She loved it when he laughed, and thought that he must have inherited the tendency to do so from her, for it certainly had not come from his father.

‘We might have to stay here all night,' Paul had said.

It was six o'clock and distant cows and working people had begun to vanish from the fields.

At seven o'clock the sun started setting. At half past seven, little spots of lights appeared on the horizon as the villagers, home from the fields, lit their oil lamps.

At a quarter to eight it became quite dark and mosquitoes began to bite Paul and Sangita.

‘We will have to sleep in the car with the hood up. That's the only thing,' said Paul.

Because it was a two-seater, the only way they could lie down was in each other's arms across the seats. Because of the mosquitoes, Sangita took off her sari and used it to cover both of them.

She thought she had not gone to sleep at all, but lain awake all night, listening to the in and out even sound of Paul's sleeping breaths. Hearing the sudden high pitched shriek of a wild peacock and the distant mooing of a comfortable cow. The wailing of jackals. When she peeped out from the covering sari, risking being bitten on her face, she saw night jars swooping and later, bats. A wild pig, a train of young ones in her wake paused by the car and looked curiously before trotting on. Sometimes she leant on her elbow and looked into Paul's sleeping face that glowed with moonlight.

But she must have slept in the end because she became aware, suddenly, of voices although she had heard no car engine. And lights swinging across her face. She sat up
wildly and tried to pull her sari back on as her husband, the Raja, peered in at the window.