May 1969 Colombo
The Psychiatric clinic was not a place Shiro wanted to be. She refused to go. And Lalitha threatened.
‘I’ll call your mother,’ she said when Shiro refused. ‘Or I might tell Dr Jayaseelen.’
‘No,’ Shiro wailed. ‘Don’t you dare tell Jegs I’m seeing a psychiatrist. He’ll think I’m a nutcase.’
Lalitha giggled. ‘I think the lecturers think you’re pretty nutty anyway.’
‘Nutty?’
‘Yes. I was at the staff room to pick up my essay and I heard Dr Jega talking with Professor Dias and Professor Fonseka.’
‘And?’
‘Professor Dias said you are a brooding brilliance of bleak moods and enticing conversations and can swing from darkness to sunshine in the blink of an eye.’
Shiro smiled. ‘I like that. It’s poetic. Didn’t think Dias had it in him. What did Jegs say to that?’
‘You won’t like this. He said that it was as if you were acting a part, using your brains and rapier sharp wit without getting close to anyone. He was smiling as he said it. I think …’ Lalitha stopped and stared at Shiro.
For a moment Shiro was back by her stream. Golden hair and blue eyes she would never forget. The feel of her hand in his. His voice. Maybe you should forget medicine and get on the stage, Princess?
Shiro shook her head. No, forget Anthony. Move on. Make the most of today.
‘Tell. What do you think?’
‘Not just me. It’s like everyone thinks Dr Jega Jayaseelen has a soft spot for you.’
Shiro laughed. ‘So what’s wrong with that?’
Lalitha gasped. ‘Stop it, Shiro. I covered for you during the holidays on the estate when you used to swan off to talk to that Anthony Periadorai fellow and look where it got you. I am not getting involved in that stuff again.’
‘Don’t talk about Anthony.’ Shiro snapped. ‘This is different.’
‘How is it different? Dr Jega Jayaseelen may have a traditional Tamil name but look at him. His light skin and brown hair, not to mention those gorgeous grey eyes, brand him as a mongrel of mixed birth, a Eurasian.’
‘He’s got a MRCP and PhD from Queens University College Medical School. And he’s tipped to be the youngest professor at the Faculty of Medicine Colombo, that’s what’s different. My parents will think that he’s a good catch for a Tea-maker’s daughter.’
Lalitha shook her head. ‘This time I’m not keeping your secrets. Your family will never forgive me. I promised your brother Edward to watch out for you.’
As usual, Shiro ignored what she didn’t wish to hear. ‘In some ways, Jegs reminds me of Anthony.’
‘Now you’re dreaming!’
‘Truly,’ Shiro continued. ‘When the sun shines on his hair and when he smiles, he does look a little like Anthony.’
‘Shiro, stop it.’ Lalitha pulled her hand. ‘It’s time for your appointment.’
***
‘You have high distinctions in anatomy and physiology and a credit in biochemistry, Shiromi. First in your year batch of over a hundred students at the first exam is excellent.’ Professor Mangala Jayasekara consultant psychiatrist glanced at her notes. ‘You were also chosen year queen at the Law-Medical dance. And yet you’re not happy, are you?’
Shiro sat looking straight ahead. Lalitha held her hand.
‘Madam,’ a shudder went through her body. ‘I love my medical study, and it was fun to be chosen queen. My mother and brothers support me. And yet –’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I can’t forget him.’
‘Shiromi, your mother and brothers don’t know the real story behind why you went into depression, do they? Your mother thinks it’s because she wanted you to agree to an arranged marriage.’
Shiro shook her head. ‘They have some idea. There was a letter.’
Professor Jayasekara glanced back at her notes. ‘A letter?’
Shiro felt Lalitha’s hand tighten on hers. ‘Yes. Anthony’s brother wrote to my mother. Apparently Anthony gave daddy a bonus of fifty thousand rupees just when I tried to kill myself.’ She took a deep, ragged breath, ‘Anthony’s brother, William, said in the letter that it wasn’t a bonus. He said it was payment for Anthony sleeping with me.’ She stopped.
‘And?’
Shiro shrugged. ‘Mum threw a tantrum. Made me kneel and swear on the Bible I hadn’t slept with him. My brother Edward had to practically tie her down to the chair to restrain her. She said we couldn’t tell Dad. What with his brother, William, being superintendent of Watakälé and Dad’s boss and all. I think she was frightened that Dad would do something drastic.’ Shiro laughed. The touch of hysteria in her voice was obvious to her own ears.
Professor Jayasekara touched her shoulder. ‘Shiro, calm down.’
A tear escaped and slid down Shiro’s cheek. ‘I offered to have a virginity test done.’ She laughed again. ‘You know, madam, I begged Anthony to make love to me the day he sent me away. He refused. Now everyone thinks we did it anyway. Damn him. Damn him and his family to hell.’
Professor Jayasekara paused and scribbled on her notepad, then looked at Shiro. ‘Shiro, you are angry. That is a good sign. It means you are getting better.’
Shiro nodded. ‘Better? Doesn’t feel like it. I feel like he is here.’ She pushed her clenched fist into her chest. ‘I can’t stop thinking of him. I feel like there’s a connection to him. I don’t know where he is, what he is doing.’ Her voice dropped. ‘I keep imagining how it might have been if we were together. That makes me even angrier.’
‘Shiromi, you loved him. A bond like that doesn’t die completely, my dear. It will change from the searing pain you first felt, through the anger, to a gentle memory. It will take time but I promise you, it will happen.’
Shiro held her eyes. ‘Is it wrong to want revenge?’
The smile on Professor Jayasekara’s face was world weary. It spoke of years of sitting in the clinic listening to stories of broken hearts and broken lives.
‘Revenge is a poisoned goblet to drink from, Shiromi. You have a bright future. Think of where you are now as a chrysalis – you will grow wings, break out and have a wonderful life.’
Doctor Jayasekara rested her hand on Shiro’s shoulder. She left it there till Shiro smiled back at her. ‘Now get out there and enjoy being a medical student. Go talk to your friends. Do something exciting and interesting. I’ll see you next month.’
Shiro and Lalitha walked out of the psychiatry clinic. They passed the next patient coming in. He was a middle-aged man.
‘I am god.’ He gestured to the girls. ‘Listen and obey!’
They were both giggling as they stepped into the sunshine.
***
There was a small statue of the Buddha, barely twelve inches high, at the base of the old Bo tree. Around it people laid offerings of flowers and incense. The flowers and garlands of jasmine were somewhat wilted at noon, but the pungent smell of sandalwood from the joss sticks hung in the tropical afternoon air.
A group of young men and women stood chatting and laughing in the shade of the twisted branches of the Bo tree. The supposed holiness of the surroundings didn’t daunt them in the slightest. They were medical students and this was their daily ritual between ward rounds and lectures. It was here they came for a coke, cigarette, beer or even a cuddle with a colleague or an off-duty nurse.
Shiro and Lalitha ambled over to join them.
‘Look at them,’ Shiro whispered. ‘What hope do we have of doing anything exciting and interesting with this mob? Most would get a high distinction if we had a subject on how to be boring!’
Lalitha giggled as one of the boys held out a paper cone of fried peanuts. ‘Like some nuts, Shiro?’
Shiro rolled her eyes, smiled and shook her head. Lalitha could read Shiro’s thoughts – ‘nuts from the biggest nut of the bunch’.
Suddenly the chatter around the Bo tree muted. Shiro looked up to see Dr Jega Jayaseelen cross the road from the hospital. He was dressed in a pair of grey trousers and white shirt. The white coat with stethoscope in its pocket indicated that he had come from a hospital ward.
He looked at the assembled medical students. His grey eyes narrowed and his smile encompassed the group. ‘So, this is where you hang out for some R and R.’ He laughed at their bemused expressions. ‘Sorry, that’s Rest and Recreation. In London it was the pub at the corner. I guess that isn’t available here in Colombo.’
He glanced at Shiro and Lalitha, his look of faux-surprise so obvious as to be comic. ‘Oh, Miss Pregasam and Miss Rasiah. You said you wanted some help with the brachial plexus. I have some time now if you would like to come to the anatomy museum?’
Shiro remembered that she had stumbled when naming two of the branches of the brachial plexus in last week’s upper limb tutorial. She didn’t remember having asked for help. However, assistance from a lecturer was not something to be scoffed at. ‘Why, thank you, Dr Jayaseelen.’ Shiro half turned towards the assembled group of students. ‘How nice of you to remember that we asked for help.’
She swung back and grabbed Lalitha by the hand. They followed Dr Jega Jayaseelen across the road and into the main building of the Colombo Faculty of Medicine.
The British had built the lecture rooms and administrative offices in colonial times. It was a tiny replica of an English university. The Anatomy laboratories and the museum with preserved body parts were used for tutorials and private study.
Shiro glanced back at the gathered group. Nandan, the boy who had offered her the peanuts, raised his hand, four fingers folded in and thumb extended in a ‘go for it’ sign. Shiro smiled back. She had a feeling that from now on Dr Jega Jayaseelen would be known in her year group as ‘Brachial Plexus’.
As they entered the building, Lalitha clutched Shiro’s arm. ‘Shiro, I nearly forgot, I promised to help organise some stuff for the table tennis tournament tomorrow.’ She looked up at Dr Jega. ‘Sir, can you please explain to Shiro? I’ll ask her about it later.’
Shiro swung on Lalitha. ‘What tournament? You don’t play...’
But Lalitha was already gone.
‘Shiromi, do you mind very much being alone with me?’
Dr Jega’s voice was Sri Lankan with a crisp British accent. It reminded her of another time, another place, a voice completely British.
Shiro looked into grey eyes. The sun streamed through the window, lighting up his brown hair with a golden halo. He looked so like Anthony. You’re dreaming, girl, she scolded herself.
‘I don’t mind at all, Dr Jayaseelen. It’s so kind of you to offer.’
He continued to smile down at her. ‘And you and I both know that you don’t need any assistance in naming and tracing the nerves that make up the brachial plexus.’
She met grey eyes that reminded her of blue. Damn, damn, damn. Oh, what the hell. ‘I don’t mind being alone with you –’ she paused and let her smile flit up to her eyes, ‘Jega.’