When Mr Miller returned, Robin saw that he was accompanied by another elderly gentleman. Introductions completed, the person was none other than Mr Mendez who spread his arms to enfold Robin and said, ‘Welcome, my handsome,’ and Robin replied, ‘Uncle, so nice of you. I was thinking of visiting you right now. Papa never tires of speaking about you!’ Then Mr Mendez retorted, ‘You bad boy. First of all, I will have a boxing bout with you. Why didn’t you come straightaway to my place? Why this rest house?’ Mr Miller interrupted, ‘Whatever do you mean,
Mr Mendez? Do you think I am going to charge this boy? I have told his father as well that no such thing shall be done! He shall have the comforts of his own home here.’ Robin changed the topic by asking, ‘Mendez Uncle, will it be possible to see my grandfather’s old house and his grave today?’
Mr Mendez answered, ‘Your grandfather’s grave does not have a gravestone. It is covered with so much overgrowth that it will be difficult to locate. You see, Robin, your father came after your grandfather’s burial and soon went away. So there is no gravestone nor any headstone. I am sorry!’ Robin appeared a little crestfallen, but Mr Mendez assured him that he would definitely take him to his old house, which was now a guest house under a caretaker. He would also take him to visit
Miss Bonner, Mrs Thripthorpe and others. ‘Come over to my place when you are ready,’ so saying he went away.
When Robin emerged from his bath, he found Jack bringing his breakfast tray with the grace of an acrobat. Afterwards, taking the address, he went over to Mr Mendez. Both
Mr and Mrs Mendez insisted that Robin eat breakfast, but Robin declined saying he had already had his. However,
Mrs Mendez whom her husband referred to as Queen Victoria would have none of it. ‘You must at least try these gulab jamuns I made yesterday.’ Mr Mendez piped in, ‘Great one! People bring offerings to the Queen and here she is offering you something. Don’t miss this opportunity because I too shall stand to benefit along with you.’
Reaching the old house, Mr Mendez called out for the gatekeeper who lived with his family in the outhouse behind. ‘Anyone there, brother? Dil Singh! Hey Dil Singh!’ The latter came in leaps and bounds and wished him. Mr Mendez explained the purpose of Robin’s visit. And Dil Singh opened up the place for them. The doors and windows creaked to suggest that they had not been opened for long. When
Mr Mendez told Robin, ‘Come in,’ Robin stood a little perplexed, lost amidst broken memories. Mr Mendez’s voice sounded like a distant echo and Robin couldn’t help thinking—come in where? Step inside memories? Can one just step into a photo frame and thus re-enter the past? Mr Mendez’s voice droned on, ‘This is where … that is where…’ while Robin, a mere mute spectator felt strange. So much must have been witnessed by these rooms. Robin felt as if he was encapsulated in time, witnessing the past, which, though not his, breathed the presence of his forbears. An atavistic presence. There next stop was the house of Miss Bonner, which Mr Mendez said, the Adivasis referred to as the ‘Fort of Bonner Mem’. It was a very beautiful house and rather English in appearance. When Mr Mendez cleared his throat at the gate hoping to catch the attention of one of the servants, an Adivasi help by the name of Mariam responded. Mr Mendez asked Mariam where her mistress was and she said, ‘In the reading room’. Miss Bonner was delighted to see Robin. ‘My Robin. Why, he is as tall as that West Indian fast bowler, Michael Holding!’ They both embraced and conversation followed. Miss Bonner was quite old now, maybe seventy-five or eighty years of age. She was very fair and, though big-built, she was quite frail, her golden hair almost grey. She kept looking disbelievingly at Robin who still held her hand. Then she said, ‘You were still in Liza’s lap when I last saw you.’ And Robin said, ‘My parents remember you so often, I hope you are well.’ Miss Bonner replied in a voice that had at once the pathos of falling autumn leaves, ‘It is my age which is now a burden, son. I feel as old as the hills that surround me. Still one must enjoy what one has till the end.’ Then changing the topic she said, ‘Your father had written to say that you intend to write a novel on the village. But, son, what is left here to write about?’ Robin continued, ‘I have to get all my facts from you. Who else but you, a repository of information regarding the village, can help me?’ Mr Mendez made eye contact with Robin to suggest that they ought to leave. Just then Robin noticed a framed photograph on the bookshelf beside a lamp. ‘This must be her. How beautiful she was! The Miss Bonner of the past and that of now … only the eyes remain the same,’ thought Robin.
As they rose to go, Robin couldn’t help asking, ‘Is that photograph yours?’ Miss Bonner broke out in a coy smile and said, ‘Guess?’ ‘Undoubtedly you,’ replied Robin. ‘Had I been there in your time, I would have been madly in love with you. You were no less than Helen of Troy or Cleopatra.’ Mr Mendez gave an appreciative laugh, ‘Excellent, excellent.’ Miss Bonner giggled a little as he continued, ‘Even at this age, you have found an admirer.’ Then they both got up to leave and Robin said, ‘I will be coming back to visit you. We will have many sittings. You will be my cicerone in my venture of the novel.’
Once outside, Robin asked Mr Mendez, ‘Uncle, why did Miss Bonner not marry?’ ‘Oh! That’s a long story, son,’ replied Mr Mendez. ‘She used to work for the ITC, i.e., Indian Tobacco Company, and was madly in love with one of the honchos of the company, a Bihari gentleman who was married with wife and children. He too was in love with her. What a handsome man he was! He told her many times that he would make his wife agree to his second marriage. But Miss Bonner would have none of it. She said, she could not destroy that which she loved. And so she did not marry. A remarkable lady! He used to visit her off and on, but he passed away some years ago and she lives in utter loneliness.’
The two had arrived at Mrs Thripthorpe’s by then and as they stepped on to her verandah, Mrs Thripthorpe, hearing their footsteps, asked her daughter to see who had come, ‘Mendez Uncle,’ replied Judy, as she motioned for them to sit on the chairs set outside. Then she went inside. ‘That was Judy, Mrs Thripthorpe’s daughter,’ said Mr Mendez to Robin. Parting the curtain, there appeared a thin, fair English-looking lady in a green nightgown. Mr Mendez, who was still standing, said, ‘Miss Thripthorpe, look, Robin is here.’ And Mrs Thripthorpe exclaimed, ‘Oh, Robin! I have been waiting for you since yesterday!’ Once again, the warmth and affection of the people of this village touched Robin. So much love for the son of a family that had long left and settled elsewhere. Robin found it bafflingly overwhelming.
Mrs Thripthorpe said to Mr Mendez, ‘I cannot tell you how fond I was of Dennis. You see his mother had passed away and I was like a mom to him. I remember him in shorts and shirt, full of mischief; and this Robin is his son! My grandson.’ Robin responded, ‘You are my grandmother!’ ‘Some relationships in life are even more meaningful than blood relations,’ said
Mrs Thripthorpe.
Then suddenly Robin noticed the two eucalyptus trees.
Mrs Thripthorpe asked, ‘What are you looking at, son?’ Robin said, ‘At those eucalyptus trees, Papa has told me so much about them.’ Mrs Thripthorpe spoke at length on the aromatic quality of their bark and leaves. Just then Judy came in with a tray of tea and savouries. Introductions aside, Robin mentioned how lovingly his parents spoke of Aunt Judy. His mother always remembered her when she saw a film of Judy Garland’s. She’d say, ‘Dennis, look your sister Judy…’ Aunt Judy blushed a little with embarrassment and then straightaway withdrew inside with a smile. Mrs Thripthorpe went on to say that the cakes and juices had all been made by Judy. After the refreshments, Mr Mendez said that since Robin was there for a long visit, he would come back again.
While sauntering back to Queen’s Cottage, they spoke of Judy. Robin asked, ‘Uncle, did Aunt Judy ever have a job?’ ‘No,’ replied Mr Mendez. ‘She has always been a housewife, she lost her husband quite young. He was a teacher in a school in Daltonganj. Ever since, she has lived with her mother along with her two sons, Ashley and Clayton. Her mother worries no end for Judy—“What will happen to Judy after me?”’ ‘Then,’ Robin continued, ‘then what?’ Mr Mendez replied, ‘Now her boys are somewhat grown. Then yes, I must mention there is a retired navy officer here by the name of Captain Clement Mendonca. He is a Goan and since 1987 has been residing here.’ ‘So what is his connection with Aunt Judy?’ Robin questioned. ‘Clement Mendonca lost his wife some years ago and his only son, also a captain in the Navy, lives in Goa with his family. He is quite attached to Mrs Thripthorpe and has proposed marriage to Judy as a companion for his old age; but Judy is very tight-lipped about the whole thing. Perhaps she fears her sons’ response.’
It was almost three in the afternoon when Robin returned to Queen’s Cottage. Jack remarked, ‘Your lunch has gone cold, Robin Babu. I will just warm it up and give it to you. Have it, then rest a little.’ ‘I am not used to an afternoon siesta,’ said Robin, ‘But this summer heat is very enervating; it is not at all like Hong Kong here,’ replied Jack.
That evening while waiting for Mr Mendez, to take him to visit more people, Mr Miller asked Robin, how he was liking his visit to McCluskieganj. Then slowly he added, ‘Robin, you are planning to write a novel on this village. I think there is something that you must set your eyes on, right from the start. This village stands apart from other villages, how and why? This is what you must fully comprehend—one thing for instance is that although our community is so far away from England and we have no truck with our so-called forefathers, who anyway keep us at arm’s length, we are not able to get rid of our thralldom of the English. We take great interest in the goings-on there, especially with regard to the royal family. It is very amusing. Prince Charles’s and Camilla Parker Bowles’s long-term affair for instance was very closely watched by our brethren here. Not only that, British politics that is Conservatives versus Labour finds place in our everyday political discussions, despite our being shunted and marginalized by both the Indians and English alike. What is tragic is our own community too had abandoned us as if to say, ‘Since you chose to miss the bus, stay back and fend for yourselves.’ Perhaps, the years ahead will enable our children to join the mainstream Indian life and integrate themselves into it.’
Meanwhile Jack came and lit the lantern and Robin wondered, ‘This lantern, is it not a symbol of hope?’ Even today, if we exclude the villages and small towns, the lantern and candle still come in handy in big cities during power outages. This flame of hope still burns for us.’ In the dim light of the lantern, Mr Miller appeared like a shadow and the voice from that shadow spoke on as if to reassure Robin that all was not lost. That despite petty, internal politics, great and good people did emerge from among them. People like Dr Henry Gidney and Mr Frank Anthony.