Under Oriental Skies

July 25, 1875

I have been feeling edgy and irritable the whole day. It all started during breakfast when Ramu dropped a beautiful china plate which splintered on the polished floor into a thousand bits. A flash of anger ran through me and I felt like hitting out at him. Surprisingly for his temperament, James was very calm. He slowly raised his head from The Simla Mail and stared at the pieces as if he was methodically counting their number while Ramu, having apologised profusely, dashed out frantically and called for Tipu who came in to gather the pieces.

Later in the morning, when we went out into the garden, everything looked haphazardly arranged. The crocuses were in full bloom and they reminded me of the summer of '66 in Somerset House with Ralph and his brothers. And yet nothing seemed to be in the right place today. When the mali came in and started explaining to James why he needed some more money for the new hibiscus seeds, I felt once again an inexplicable anger surge through my body and rack my limbs. I wished I could take every flower in the garden by my hands, uproot it, burn the whole mass into a gigantic pile, and drink the wild smoke until I had become whole again.

It started raining after lunch, and I sat by the window cursing at it under my breath for having spoilt the afternoon walk. David came in just as dusk was falling, fully drenched. Few people would perhaps be able to guess that the two of David and James are brothers : each believed that the other was a complete failure in his life.

I must assert though that David is a bit eccentric. Or perhaps more than a bit. I asked him once why he never carried an umbrella with himself even when he knew that it was going to rain. For a moment, he smiled to himself. At times like these, I seem to believe that nothing amuses him more than himself.

'Ah, you see, the rain, the rain. For people who are not afraid to take a bath, whence the fear of the rain? For me, the entire sky is a shower, and the whole world is a bathroom.'

James was sitting at the other end of the room, smoking his pipe and reading The British Medical Gazette. He emitted a brief snort, looked in my direction, and then towards David, in an expression of pity, sadly shaking his head.

Nevertheless, talking to David today irritated me all the more. After he came in, he started a long winded conversation in his pathetic broken Hindusthani with Ramu about the Indian rain. Ramu seems to think that there is a lost tribe in the lower Himalayas which knows the secret of healing arthritis with water collected from the first shower of the Eastern Monsoons. David sat down with Ramu on the porch, his eyes filled with the wonder of a child, avidly drinking in every word that Ramu threw at him and wildly gesticulating to him as he searched for the right word in Hindusthani. So much for our Lords and Ladies in the Upper House who deliberate day and night on the superiority of our European race and send Eton-and-Cambridge educated Davids to civilize the Natives!

David was excited about what he had heard from Ramu and was insistent that I hear him out too. I endured him for a few minutes, when I began to feel that excruciating pang of irritation flush through my face all over again. I struggled with myself as something within me wanted to lash out fiercely at him, and something else was trying to find the strength for restraint.

'Can't we talk about something else?'

'You mean, about the failures of Western medicine to cure arthritis?'

'Must you always be this cynical? I daresay James has done more among the sick people here than you have.'

'Ah, back to James, General Surgeon, by the Queen's Appointment. A pair of skilful hands meets a pair of blue eyes. '

'And what is wrong about that?'

'Right? Wrong? Oh, don't ask me all these textbook questions. I know what is right and I know what is wrong. What I really want to know is which rights are more wrong and which wrongs are less right.'

I think the rope snapped somewhere at that stage. I turned my face towards the crocuses outside and stared at the pouring rain with a sullen face.

David left after dinner when the rain finally stopped.

I sat down on the porch staring at the beautiful night sky spangled with shining stars. A cool breeze was blowing through the garden and into the house through the white curtains. I felt a gentle peace sinking into me. The deep storm inside me had subsided, and I felt like a battered ship that having braved a perilous gale on the high seas sails into the safety of an expecting harbour.

For today, at least.