RAABTA

“We have a golden opportunity.” There was a hint of anticipation in Mohini’s voice as she paced Kalyani’s small room. Kalyani was sitting on the mat, her hair swept to one side, her saree wrapped around her body closely as if she was feeling cold. The Kerosene Lamp burnt bright on the floor beside her mat, making her contemplating calm face visible, in the darkness of the night. Sharat opened the window partially to let the smoke from his cigarette out as he perched on the window sill lost in thought.  “But what did Jones actually say?” He asked at last. Mohini stopped pacing the room and turned to him. “He said we are having all sorts of artists around. We want you to perform as well… then I said I will come alone because my girls won’t be interested in this family event. Marzi will come along to play the instrument.” She stopped and eyed Kalyani watching her as she continued. “But then Sa’ab told me that since I stay at Metia Bruz I must know all sorts of singers. He has already in

  William Nithercot lived alone in the palatial house provided by the government as his quarters in the town of Jessore. He refused to bring his family along to the “hell hole” he was appointed at. The summers were too warm, the rainy season meant snakes everywhere and the winters were barely cold enough. He had been appointed across the length and breadth of this vast sub-continent and nowhere could he find it pleasant. Nithercot once witnessed an angry wild elephant stampede his fellow officer charging across the coffee estate in the South. He often hunted tigers for pleasure in the West, and some took up space in his trophy room. The peacocks often roamed the gardens when he was up North but sometimes even they would peck someone without a cause. “This is a wild country.” He once wrote to his wife back in Britain refusing her plea to join him. “They are all animals.” His job, although nobody said so to him , was to civilise the brown-skinned Indians as they did with the others acro