Peach and gold streaks spread across the eastern horizon as the sun shook off its slumber to wage a battle with the clouds. Invigorated after the morning walk, Ramola looked forward to her customary fix of tea. The mist gradually lifted as she briskly made her way towards Murli’s shack, pausing briefly to breathe in the dewy air. A tiny figure, perched on a boulder, became visible as she approached the bend. Drawing closer, she realized it was Tia.
‘Good morning,’ the girl chirped, a wide grin on her heart-shaped face. ‘Boy, am I glad to see you!’
‘Why? What’s up?’
‘I seem to have twisted my ankle. To make matters worse, I have forgotten my phone at the hotel.’ Tia got off the rock and hobbled, wincing at the effort.
‘No, don’t put your weight on that foot, you’ll only damage it further. What you need is an ice compress and to put your feet up for the rest of the day.’ So saying, Ramola pushed Tia gently back on to the boulder.
‘Ice? In this weather? I’ll turn into a popsicle and die,’ Tia protested.
‘Well, you have the option of being bedridden or use the ice-pack to heal fast. How on earth did you injure yourself?’
‘Stupid, really. I was chasing a puppy down the road, when my foot got stuck in a pothole and I fell.’
‘That was reckless. Rushing downhill is the easiest way to sprain an ankle,’ admonished Ramola. ‘Hang on, let me call Pradhan. He will take you back to the hotel.’
‘Who is Pradhan? Your driver?’
‘I hire his car for taking trips out of Ramsar. He’s a reliable guy.’
‘I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this … I …’
‘It’s no problem at all,’ Ramola cut her short to make the call.
Ten minutes later, Ramola and Pradhan helped Tia into the car. She waved them off before heading home. For the first time in six months she didn’t go to Murli’s stall after the walk. Instead, when she arrived at the bungalow, she asked Durgabai to make her a cup of tea, before calling Dr Sunil Rawat to check on the girl’s foot at Misty Meadows.
The doc called her back after a couple of hours to say, ‘There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a minor sprain. A couple of days’ rest should put her back on her feet.
‘I just hope she doesn’t hop around before the ankle has healed,’ said Ramola.
‘Do you know her?’
‘Not really. We only met recently at Murli’s tea shop.’
‘She’s full of praise for your kindness,’ the doctor said.
Ramola brushed it off. ‘All I did was send her back to the hotel. Thank you for tending to her, Doc.’
She rang off, thinking about life’s little googlies. Something told her the girl was likely to pop up in her life, once again. Everything happens for a reason.
A couple of days passed without Ramola running into Tia. The doctor called once to say the girl was keen to get moving again, and they laughed over the ways of the young and impatient.
Life continued to move at a slow and sedate pace as Ramsar enveloped her in its languorous embrace. It was a bright and sunny morning and Ramola decided to work on her memoir. Her diaries scattered around her, she sat in the gazebo, tapping the keys of the laptop. Five minutes later, dissatisfied with the result, she deleted the short paragraph she had drafted. Her second attempt was not satisfying either, nor was the third one. It maddened her.
‘Durgabai,’ the star hollered. ‘Get me a cup of coffee … and for once try to make a decent cup.’
Muttering under her breath, and Durgabai shuffled into the house carrying her 65 kilograms of weight in a five-feet frame. Although Ramola had employed a cook called Dinesh, she rarely asked him to make coffee since his brew was worse than Durgabai’s concoction. Pursing her lips, Ramola returned to work determinedly. This time, I have to get it right, she muttered, doggedly. How difficult can it be to recapitulate one’s life?
Her fifth effort at getting the right words was interrupted by the creaking hinges of the main gate. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Irritated, she turned around to shoo away the unwelcome visitor. It was Tia. She was limping towards her with a posy.
Her annoyance vanished as she spotted Tia and she smiled at the girl. ‘And what brings you here on this fine day? Shouldn’t you be resting that ankle?’
‘I just wanted to thank you for your help.’
‘You could have done that on the phone. There was no need to hobble all the way here. I don’t think Dr Rawat is going to be pleased to know about you trekking all the way here.’
‘Oh, he won’t know unless you complain to him,’ replied Tia airily.
‘What makes you think I won’t?’ Ramola couldn’t help smiling.
‘Please don’t! It is a punishment to be incarcerated indoors.’
‘All the same …’
‘These are for you. I picked them from the garden of the house with the blue door on my way over.’ Tia handed the bouquet.
‘Why, thank you. They are lovely, although I don’t really endorse larceny,’ Ramola chuckled, laying the flowers on the spindly legged table by the laptop.
Durgabai arrived with the coffee tray. She threw a blistering look at the girl.
‘Would you care for some coffee?’
‘Sounds good, thank you.’
Instructing Durgabai to bring another cup, Ramola turned to Tia. ‘The house with the blue door, you said. That’s Dr Rawat’s. He’s not likely to take kindly to your nicking his precious carnations.’
‘I’m sure he won’t mind when he finds out they’re for you.’ Observing the laptop and the diaries scattered around her, Tia continued, ‘I hope I haven’t disturbed you in the middle of something important.’
‘As a matter of fact, you have relieved me of another fruitless morning.’
‘Is there any way I can help you?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Ramola repressively to discourage further probing. ‘So, tell me how long do you intend to stay in Ramsar?’
‘Would you believe me if I said I honestly don’t know the answer to that question?’
She said flicking away the lock of hair falling on her left eye.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Like I told you the other day, I’m still feeling hurt and humiliated. As soon as I feel strong enough to face my relatives and friends again, I’ll return to Mumbai. For now, I’m dealing with it one day at a time, which is why I so hate being laid low with this stupid injury. Lying around, a prey to my thoughts, is the worst thing at this juncture.’
‘I gather you aren’t working? One doesn’t run away to an unknown destination for an indefinite period of time when one has a job.’
‘I work as a sub-editor with a lifestyle magazine, but I am on a sabbatical.’
‘Are you at Ramsar only because of the heartbreak or is there another reason?’
‘There are two reasons for my being here. One is the personal debacle and the need to get away for a while, to take stock and rethink my life. For the last three years I’ve been working in a high-pressure job with impossible deadlines. I badly needed a break. Besides, this vacation has given me the opportunity to write the book that has been on my mind for some time.’
‘I thought Ramsar is a well-kept secret.’
‘You are right. I came upon the name while interviewing a person, who had trekked through this town. It is one of the most beautiful places in the Kumaon area, he said.’
Leaning back on the chair, Ramola toyed with an idea. ‘You said something about writing a book?’
‘Yes, I started working on it recently,’ Tia admitted. ‘The truth is, I’ve managed to put in about a thousand words every day since arriving here.’
Wow! That’s way more than I’ve achieved in a month, thought Ramola.
‘That’s quite impressive,’ she said. ‘Even so, it can take a long time to complete the book. Do you propose to continue your sojourn at the Misty Meadows until it gets done?’
‘‘I would much rather stay someplace else. Do you know of any alternative?’
‘I can’t think of a viable option,’ admitted Ramola.
‘What I need is a cheaper option. Misty Meadows is not practical because I can’t afford it for too long.’ After a pause, Tia continued, ‘Would you know of any local families who will be able to take me on as a paying guest?’
‘I am not aware of any such family, but I could ask my gardener to find out. He is a local guy,’ offered Ramola.
‘Things would be so much better if I could find a part-time job, to pay for my stay.’
Is the girl angling for a job at Charmwood?
Ramola hesitated. Would it be prudent to take her in? But, then, why not? Although not a big believer in destiny, Ramola felt Fate had a role in putting Tia in her path just when she was offered an impressive publishing contract for her autobiography. The girl was a qualified journalist and a wannabe novelist. Here was a heaven-sent opportunity to get help with chronicling her memoir, especially when she was making no headway.
‘How good are you at taking dictation? I need help with some writing. Will you be able to do that?’ She asked the girl.
‘Let me get this straight,’ Tia’s words came in a rush, afraid that Ramola would change her mind. Are you saying you’re willing to take me on as a paying guest, and also employ me so I can pay my fare?’
‘Well … if …’ Ramola hesitated.
‘Thank you, thank you so much,’ Tia pounced at the offer. ‘You won’t regret it, I promise.’
Ramola was amused by the girl’s gratitude. ‘It’s strictly a business deal. In return for boarding and lodging, you will put in regular hours of work. The remuneration won’t be much,’ she clarified.
‘I would do anything for a roof over my head and two square meals.’
‘We will have a week’s trial period. If I am satisfied with the quality of your work, we will seal the deal.’
‘I agree. What kind of writing do you have in mind?’ asked Tia.
The star, reluctant to take Tia, a stranger for all intents and purposes, into her confidence at this juncture, stalled at this point.
‘We’ll come to that later. First, I must assess how good you are at writing. If you pass the test, you could bag an important assignment.’
‘So … when do I begin?’ Tia looked expectantly at Ramola.
‘Right away. Let me make it clear, you will have to work to a deadline. Six months is all you get. Also let me warn you, I’m a slave-driver.’
Tia nodded. ‘I accept the challenge.’
The very next day, the girl moved into Charmwood Cottage. Durgabai had prepared the corner bedroom on the first floor for Tia. The room was larger than the studio apartment she shared with another girl at Mumbai. With a neat bed, cheerful chintz curtains, small desk and a wicker arm chair, it was definitely comfortable. She was travelling light, so it didn’t take her long to unpack her clothes and arrange them in the massive wooden wardrobe. Her laptop and stationery were arranged neatly on the desk by the large window. It had a view of the idyllic landscape, and she could just about glimpse the sparkle of the stream.
It didn’t take her long to settle down, her life falling into a comfortable routine.
At first, Ramola dictated bits of her life in a random order. Over the days, the actress gradually grew to trust Tia and was impressed with her efficiency and diligence.
‘Are you writing a novel?’ asked the girl, one morning. ‘It’s fascinating so far and could become a best-seller.’
‘It’s my autobiography,’ Ramola confessed, realizing it was high time to reveal the truth.
‘I suspected as much,’ exclaimed Tia, clapping her hands. ‘I’m delighted to be assisting you with this.’
‘It’s going to be hard work, my dear girl. I will be setting a fast pace and you will have to keep up.’
‘Agreed!’
True to her word, Ramola proved to be a taskmaster. She was unyielding where work was concerned.
The October morning was one of those idyllic days when everything seemed alive, bright and perfect. The eight-month marathon with the manuscript had been successfully completed. The two women relaxed on the patio, breakfasting, sipping coffee and gazing at the snow-covered peaks.
‘Now that my book is ready, what’s next?’ Ramola broke the silence.
‘I don’t know,’ Tia replied. ‘I haven’t thought about it at all.’
‘There’s no hurry. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.’
The cottage would be a dull place without the girl, Ramola realized.
‘I wouldn’t dream of imposing on your hospitality,’ Tia replied. ‘I need a few days to decide on the next step. In fact, I must go back to my job at Mumbai.’
‘I thought you said something about being on a sabbatical. Didn’t you want to write a novel?’
Tia fixed her gaze on the distant mountains, her mind running over the possibilities. ‘Yes, I wanted to take some time off to write my book.’
‘So, what’s stopping you from doing so?’
The girl hesitated.
‘Is it something to do with money?’
‘Well … I can’t stay here forever.’
‘What if I were to offer you a few weeks of stay at Charmwood?’
‘I couldn’t … really.’
‘Let’s talk about it later.
They went back to contemplating the marvellous daybreak over the mountaintops, each woman lost in her own thoughts.
Tia snapped her fingers, ‘I’ve just had a brainwave,’ she said. ‘How about inviting these guys who had been a part of your life; the ones we wrote about in the book?’
‘Not a good idea, Tia.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to watch their reactions when you announce your memoir was to be published?’
‘Not really. I don’t want to have anything more to do with that lot. I have moved on.’
Although she had summarily dismissed Tia’s idea, Ramola found herself unable to get it out of her mind. She had often thought of dealing a lethal blow to the rascals and this would be the ultimate revenge. Tia was right. It would be immensely satisfying to watch their reactions. The more she thought about it the more the idea appealed to Ramola. She could almost visualize the aghast expressions on the faces of her invitees. It was a fantastic idea!
Her mind made up, she decided she would indeed throw a party to announce the book. Her birthday was around the corner, so it would be the perfect occasion for the men in her past to be a part of the guest list.
The next morning, at breakfast, she announced her decision.
‘I have been reconsidering your suggestion, Tia,’ said Ramola. ‘My birthday is a couple of weeks away. It would be the right excuse to throw a party, and make the announcement. You will stay till my birthday, of course.’
‘Cool!’ said Tia, excitedly. ‘Let’s start compiling the guest list and sending out the invitations.’
Despite her initial reluctance, Ramola found herself being swept along on the tide of Tia’s enthusiastic ebullience. I must be getting old, she thought wryly as they began making plans for the do. It was almost the end of October and Ramola’s fortieth birthday was just a few days away.
Tia came into the parlour waving a print-out from her computer.
‘Awright, the guest list is almost done; we’ll do the add-ons as we go along. Would it be okay for you to start making the telephone calls now? We can follow them up with emailed invites including the directions to Charmwood,’ suggested Tia.
In a short span of time, Ramola found herself listening to Subroto Sen’s telephone ringing in Mumbai.