Chapter 7: Chapter 7

For a week or so everything seemed to go smoothly, and Eliza quickly dismissed the tears she had shed on the night of the durbar as fanciful. This was not the time to allow any kind of emotion to get in her way. This was a time to work. So far the staff allowed her free access to most of the castle, including the kitchens and store room, and even the women of the zenana were friendly. In fact, when she discovered Anish still kept concubines, Eliza found herself gravitating towards the women, many of whom were old and had been there since his father's time. Some of the women told stories of being brought as babies to be taken in by the castle. Many had never left the castle since. But they laughed and sewed and sang and, when she was with them, Eliza experienced a kind of camaraderie that was entirely new to her. It bore no relation to the time she'd spent in a minor girls' boarding school, courtesy of a man her mother had called an 'uncle'. His name was James Langton and Eliza knew that he was not any kind of relation at all, though she and her mother were given a small lodge on his estate and all Anna had to do in return was check up on his staff whenever he went away. Up until now the ease with which other people appeared to be rooted so securely in their world had escaped Eliza. But now, even if the women of the zenana might gossip about her when she wasn't there, Eliza didn't mind. She found them fun to be with. The girls at the boarding school had not been fun and she hadn't trusted any of them. But she only heard the women of the zenana being spiteful after one of those days when Priya had joined them, and Eliza could tell the women didn't trust their Maharani. Just as Eliza was taking a photograph of one of the younger concubines, Indira entered the room carrying a bag and speaking in English so that none of the other women could understand. 'You want to see something?' she said, with a wide grin on her face, and, looking pleased with herself, she pulled up a chair and threw herself down. 'Depends.' 'A kind of funeral.' As the words sank in, Eliza frowned. She'd had more than enough of funerals. 'You'll like it. I promise.' Eliza hesitated. She hadn't seen much of Indi since the night of the ball, when the girl had so clearly revealed her jealousy. 'Kiri is coming.' 'Really? The handmaid?' Indi nodded. 'We're meeting her in town.' Eliza made a decision and began packing up. 'I've finished here, so why not. Can't be too long though, as I want to develop the plates as soon as I get back. Is it all right if I take my Rolleiflex?' 'If you carry it in a bag over your shoulder.' She then jumped up and held something out. 'We won't be long but you will need to change. I've brought Indian clothes.' 'Where from?' Indi tilted her head to one side and smiled mysteriously. 'I can get anything. Now change.' 'In front of these women?' Indi laughed. 'Of course. We are all women together here. They have seen it all before. You can pick your own clothes up later.' Eliza was not a prude but, as she changed, her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she attempted to cover different parts of herself. The women laughed and chattered, speaking so fast that Eliza couldn't follow. It seemed good-natured enough, though the excitement of seeing a semi-naked white woman turning raspberry pink was probably rivetingly new for them. By the time it was finished, Eliza, wearing the typical full skirt and figure-hugging blouse, felt quite different. As they left the zenana Indi suddenly pushed Eliza into a recess in the corridor. Eliza frowned, but Indi had a finger to her lips. After a moment she spoke. 'Chatur! The dewan – the senior court official.' Eliza remembered the man's shadowy dark eyes and bushy brows. 'So?' 'He has eyes in the back of his head. He's used to me, but the less he knows about you the better. He'll want to poke his nose into everything you do if you're not careful. Come on. He's gone.' 'Why do I have to be careful?' 'He hates change and is no friend of the British. I doubt he approves of you being here at all. He is very old-fashioned. He and Priya are close. Both best avoided.' After that Indira chatted about this and that. Whatever the upset at the ball had been about, it seemed to have passed. Maybe Indi and Jay had managed to talk? Either way Eliza felt relieved that no more trouble beckoned. Enthralled by glimpses of castle life, she had been worrying that bad feeling might spoil things. As for Clifford, she put him to the back of her mind. This was Eliza's first real visit to the heart of the medieval town and it was where they met up with Kiri, who would be accompanying them. Excited by the vibrant colours inside the tangle of winding streets, Eliza's heart began to beat a little faster. The bazaars of the old city seemed to radiate in narrow ribbons from the main clock tower and, as Eliza followed Indi and Kiri, they passed everything from tie-dyers to puppet-makers; it crossed her mind that if she got lost here she'd never get out again. Would these bustling people help her, all with their own little lives, their own joys, their own fears, seeming so close yet possibly so far apart from one another? In the spice markets the scents of incense drifted around them, as did the tangy aroma of charcoal-cooked goat. Then, as they went further and further through bazaars selling everything from sweets to sarees, the drone of a drum seemed to grow louder, just as the whiff of drains grew stronger. 'Is it a festival?' she asked, knowing that India's love of festivity ranged from celebrating the birth of a god, or a satisfactory harvest, to the many music festivals. 'Not quite.' Eliza paused in the middle of the street. 'So?' Indi beamed back at her as she walked on. 'Kiri's family are puppeteers. Today is a special day for them. Come on, or you'll be run over by a rickshaw.' 'But you said …' 'It was a funeral. And it is. In a way.' 'You're being very mysterious.' Indi laughed, linking arms with Eliza and also with Kiri, who was smiling broadly. 'You'll see. Do you believe in karma or destiny?' 'Destiny? I'm not really sure what it means.' 'I believe. We have something called adit chukker , the unseen wheel of fate. We are all about destiny here. And today is no exception.' At that point Eliza heard an English voice calling her name. She spun round to see Dottie looking red-faced as she ran towards her. 'I thought it was you,' the woman said. 'Gosh, I'm out of puff. Rule number one, never run in this heat! But what are you up to, wearing that outfit?' 'It is a bit odd actually. I'm going to some kind of funeral.' 'Good grief, is it safe?' She glanced around as though looking for assailants hiding in the alleyways. 'I'm sure it is,' Eliza said. 'Anyway, how are you, Dottie? I was sorry not to see you at the durbar .' 'I had one of my ghastly headaches. Julian gives me something but it just knocks me out.' Dottie touched Eliza's forearm and paused for a moment. 'But seriously, traipsing about like this on your own …' 'I'm with those two.' She pointed at Indi and Kiri. 'But I meant …' 'I know what you meant, but I'm fine. Really.' 'Would Clifford approve?' 'Probably not. But look, why not come with us?' Dottie smiled. 'You know, I rather think I'd like to, but actually I'm with Julian. He's looking for a chess set.' 'Pity.' Eliza took a step away and glanced across at Indi. 'Another time maybe?' Eliza nodded. 'Sorry to dash, but I can't hold them up any longer.' 'Of course. See you soon?' Eliza heard a pensive note in the woman's voice and realized Dottie might be a bit lonely too. She would make an effort to call on her soon. Dottie moved off and Eliza went back to the waiting girls. When they finally arrived at the outskirts of the town they reached a river bank. It wasn't particularly wide and certainly didn't look very deep, but here it seemed less dusty than the main town had been and Eliza felt a certain freshness in the air. And then she saw that a small crowd had assembled to watch a puppet show. 'We're here for this?' 'Sort of.' The impressive sight of three-foot marionettes on a miniature stage, their heads carved out of hardwood and wearing elaborately made costumes, was like nothing Eliza had seen before. The semi-concealed puppeteer made sounds through what looked like bamboo to disguise his normal voice, and he moved the jointed limbs of the puppets by manipulating the strings attached to them. A woman next to him played the drum Eliza had been hearing. 'It's a dholak , the drum,' Indi said. 'These stories are about destiny. And love, war and honour. You can ask Jay about that. He knows all about honour.' Eliza wondered if there had been a hint of something in Indi's voice but shrugged. She was probably imagining it. 'These people are agricultural labourers from the Nagaur area, known by the name of the kathputliwalas . They usually perform the puppet shows during the late evenings, but this is different.' Eliza listened as the puppeteer hooted and whistled and the story was narrated by a second woman while the first one continued to sing and beat on her drum. 'We're here for a funeral,' Indi continued. 'Whose?' 'He's lying over there.' Though she had no desire to see a dead body, Eliza couldn't help turning her head to look. She saw only Kiri, sitting on the ground beside another three-foot puppet lying on a bed of silk. 'That puppet is old and too worn out to be used now.' Eliza watched as the show came to an end. The puppeteer went across to Kiri and kissed the top of her head, then he picked up the old marionette and carried it lovingly to the water's edge, where he began to pray. Eliza caught the scene on her camera and then, as his prayers continued, he placed the puppet on the water with Kiri's help. 'The longer it floats the more pleased the gods will be,' Indi said. 'Why is Kiri helping?' 'The puppeteer is her father.' 'But she doesn't live with her family?' 'She cannot. To work at the castle she must live at the castle.' After the scene by the river the three wandered through the bazaars dodging the bicycles, the cows lying asleep, and the wares laid out on the pavements, only stopping to wrap brightly coloured scarves around each other's throats and to try on necklaces, while posing and giggling. 'You suit the Indian style of dressing, Eliza.' 'But why did I need to dress like this? Surely I could have just covered my head?' 'Yes. But I thought it would be more fun and fewer people would stare at you this way.' Eliza smiled. She was enjoying herself, if a bit conscious of her pale skin; unusually light-hearted and full of admiration for Indi's knowledge of the town, she seemed to be discovering a different part of herself. Nobody bothered the girls and the streets throbbed with a mix of women still in purdah and those who had come out. They bought little cooked flour-balls or golgappe and also lentil fritters that Indira called daalbaatichurma , and went to one of the parks to eat them. By the time they reached the beginning of the hill it was dusk, and Eliza looked up in amazement. The entire fortress was now brilliantly lit and seemed to have been brushed with gold. Every sparkling window beckoned, and it occurred to Eliza that if she didn't hold on she would drop into fairyland, never to return to the real world. It had been a lovely, happy day, a day to rejoice at how easy life could be when you didn't have to try to protect yourself. Eliza hoped that she and Indi might become real friends. It was a long time since she'd had a real friend.