May 1969 Diyatalāwa
Thick fog surrounded them in Diyatalāwa. They could hardly see a few feet in front of the car. The town was just waking. A few men, their heads swathed in towels to keep out the cold and rain, strolled along the road’s narrow, uneven pavements. Children squatted around a tap on the roadside, brushing their teeth. They looked up and waved as the car passed. Daniel, wide-awake and with his nose pressed on the window, waved back.
Anthony signalled to Sunil to stop the car. He wound down the window. ‘Hemachandra Mudalali veedu?’ he asked a man who was just opening his shop. Yawning, the man pointed down the road to a two-storey building.
Sunil nodded. The car continued to travel up the road and soon drew up at the front door of the house.
Anthony got out of the car. ‘Sunil, please watch the child.’
Sunil got into the back seat with Daniel. Daniel, wrapped in Janet’s blanket and munching on a fruit bun from Appu’s kitchen, stared around.
Anthony stood at the front door. The house was shuttered and dark. Seven in the morning was obviously too early for Hemachandra Mudalali.
There was no knocker or buzzer. Anthony tapped and then hammered on the door. The only acknowledgement was the strident barking of what sounded like a large dog from the house next door.
After a minute, Anthony pounded on the door again, even harder. ‘Hello’ he called. ‘Mudalali, are you at home?’
A light came on in an upstairs room. A loud male voice called out ‘Lakshmi, go see who is coming at this time.’ Anthony’s heart skipped a beat. Had he heard the name Lakshmi?
Soft footsteps approached the front door and the corner of the curtain was pulled back. Anthony stepped back into the light from the street lamp, so that whoever was peeking through the glass pane of the window had a clear view of his face.
A bloodcurdling scream came from the house. ‘It is him. He has come!’ A female voice shrieked in Sinhalese. This was followed by the sound of running feet. Footsteps clumped down the stairs and towards the front door.
The door flung open. Hemachandra Mudalali stood there, his ample chest bare except for a red towel thrown over his shoulder. His left hand held his batik sarong up to his knees, exposing fat and hairy legs. He leaned forward and squinted into Anthony’s face.
Anthony drew back as Hemachandra Mudalali’s malodorous morning breath washed over him.
‘Who is this?’ Hemachandra Mudalali continued to stare into Anthony’s face. Then his tone rose in pitch and volume. ‘Aney, it is you, no, sir? Over two years since we saw you no?’ He turned to shout into the house. ‘Anthony Periadorai is here, Hamine.’
Hemachandra Mudalali reached out his arms and Anthony felt himself engulfed in the sweaty bosom. Over Hemachandra Mudalali’s shoulder, Anthony saw Mrs Hemachandra in her housecoat, bustling around drawing the curtains open and arranging the furniture.
Hemachandra Mudalali relinquished his hold on Anthony. Anthony took a deep breath.
‘Long time, no? We are missing you on Watakälé. Business is not good there, sir. You are visiting? Or you are coming back to work in the district? That would be good, no? Come in, son, come in.’ Hemachandra Mudalali stepped back, gesturing for Anthony to enter.
Anthony held up his hand, palm out, to Hemachandra Mudalali, then turned and signalled to Sunil. Sunil lifted Daniel out of the car. Daniel clutched the blanket in his left hand. The thumb of his right hand was firmly secured in his mouth. Sunil handed Daniel to Anthony and went back to the car.
There was silence as Daniel and Anthony entered. Hemachandra Mudalali looked from the child to Anthony and back to the child. Daniel drooped on Anthony’s shoulder, sucking his thumb, his head tilted to one side. His big, cobalt-blue eyes stared back at Hemachandra Mudalali.
‘Sir.’ Hemachandra Mudalali hesitated. ‘Sir, is this –’
‘Yes, this is Daniel. Lakshmi’s son by my brother, William. I have adopted him. I want to find his mother. Is she here, Mudalali?’
There was silence in the room. Hemachandra Mudalali looked at his wife and back at Daniel. Mrs Hemachandra stood behind a sofa, her fingers clasped tight on the back of the seat. Anthony held Daniel closer to him. This was not going to be easy.
Daniel raised his head and looked at Hemachandra Mudalali and his wife. ‘Girl.’ He pointed at Mrs Hemachandra. His chubby little forefinger moved to Hemachandra Mudalali. ‘Fat man.’
Anthony clasped his hand on Daniel’s mouth. This was definitely not helping his cause. ‘Daniel,’ he whispered in his ear. ‘Go back to sleep, son.’ He turned to apologise.
Hemachandra Mudalali slapped his ample stomach and hooted with laughter. His moustache wobbled.
His wife let go of the back of the sofa and pointed to her husband. ‘I am telling him he is eating too much,’ she chuckled. ‘Those days he is having bread for breakfast, no? Now since Lakshmi is here, we are having kiribath and roti for breakfast and fried rice for lunch and dinner also.’
There it was again, the mention of Lakshmi. So Appu was right. This was where she was. Anthony encompassed them both in his next words. ‘So Daniel’s mother, Lakshmi, is here?’
Mrs Hemachandra’s hands tightened on the sofa back again.
Hemachandra Mudalali wiped his eyes on the corner of the towel hanging over his shoulder. ‘Sir, why are you wanting to know?’ He glanced back at his wife.
There were undercurrents that Anthony couldn’t comprehend. What was Lakshmi’s status in this house?
Anthony moved closer to Hemachandra Mudalali. He looked down directly into his eyes. ‘Mr Hemachandra, I have adopted the boy. Daniel is the first born of the next generation. I will not let him be brought up as an orphan.’
A look of relief crossed Hemachandra Mudalali’s face. ‘Ah, I understand. You will be wanting to take him to England, no? So you want to tell Lakshmi?’
‘No.’ Anthony was beginning to get impatient. He took a deep breath and continued. ‘I will not subject my son to the racist claptrap of British colonial arrogance. I am taking him to a place where he can be his best.’
Hemachandra Mudalali was now smiling. ‘I see. You have come to say goodbye.’
‘No,’ Anthony repeated. ‘I have come to find Daniel’s mother and ask her to come with me.’
Mrs Hemachandra raised her hands to her mouth. ‘Take her with you? What are you saying?’
‘What I am saying is that I want Lakshmi to come with me to Australia.’
‘Australia. That is like very far away, no?’ Mrs Hemachandra gasped.
A look of anger flashed across Hemachandra Mudalali’s face. He gestured his wife to be silent. ‘So you are no different from your brother? He rapes her and you want to take her with you to Australia as your keep. A servant for easy sex. Just like your father.’
Anthony stood dumbfounded.
‘I thought you were not like them.’ Hemachandra Mudalali’s face twisted in a sneer. ‘What will you do when you are finished? When she is too old for you? Sell her as a slave?’
‘Damn you for comparing me with my brother.’ The fury in Anthony’s voice silenced Hemachandra Mudalali. ‘Or with my father, for that matter. I want her to care for Daniel. I am not looking for a lover for myself.’ There was no way he was going to explain his relationship to Lakshmi to this idiot.
‘But,’ stammered Hemachandra Mudalali, ‘how will they allow?’
Daniel was now asleep and drooling on Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony silenced Hemachandra Mudalali with his other hand. ‘It’s all arranged. I have a visa to take a local woman as a nanny for the child. If she agrees, Lakshmi will be part of Daniel’s life. When he is old enough, we will tell him the truth.’
Hemachandra Mudalali eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. ‘You will do that? You will tell him she is the mother? A coolie? You are not ashamed?’
‘The shame is what we the British have done to the plantations.’ Anthony fixed his eyes on Hemachandra Mudalali. ‘Is Lakshmi here?’ he raised his voice. ‘I must speak to her.’
‘Yes, she is here.’ Hemachandra Mudalali’s voice was wary. ‘But she is frightened of you. You heard her scream.’
‘She thinks I’m William. Of course she’s frightened. Let me talk to her. I have her son. Surely that makes a difference?’
Hemachandra Mudalali stood there, gazing at the floor, hands clasped behind his back, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Anthony stared at him, surprised at his hesitation. He doesn’t want to let her go. How preposterous. She’s a servant here, and probably works for practically nothing out of gratitude. Damn the man.
Anthony sat down and crossed his legs. He settled Daniel on his lap. Daniel opened his eyes, wriggled off Anthony’s lap and flopped on the floor. Anthony held onto Daniel’s hand. ‘Mudalali, I am not leaving here until I speak with Lakshmi.’
Hemachandra Mudalali shook his head. Turning, he walked towards the back of the house. Anthony got up and went with him. Behind him, Mrs Hemachandra took Daniel by the hand and followed them.
A slim woman stood in the kitchen, holding on to the sink. She had her back to the door. She wore a threadbare blouse and skirt. Her shoulders were bent forward, as if to protect herself from further pain. She did not turn around or raise her eyes as they entered.
‘Hello, Lakshmi,’ Anthony said, pausing at every word. ‘Can you understand me?’
Anthony leaned forward to hear her faint response. ‘I know English.’
‘Good. Lakshmi, I am Anthony Ashley-Cooper. I’m not William. I think you know that now. You must remember me from the days when I was the superintendent at Watakälé. Please don’t be afraid of me.’
She remained frozen to the spot, turned away from them, her every muscle tense. She reminded Anthony of an animal, cornered, hurt, ready to flee or maybe to bite back.
‘Lakshmi.’ Anthony kept his voice soft and low, ‘I’ve brought someone I think you’d like to meet. Your son, Lakshmi. Now my son also – Daniel.’
‘My son? But how? He was adopted. Matron said I would never see him again.’ Lakshmi swung round to face them. Even after years of hard manual labour, the clean lines of her face were evident. She must have been beautiful. Her eyes, a murky dark grey, widened with fear and surprise. Anthony flinched. The resemblance to his father was right there.
Anthony stepped aside so Lakshmi could see Mrs Hemachandra and Daniel. Mrs Hemachandra carried Daniel in and set him down to stand in front of Lakshmi.
Daniel looked up at his mother, his blue eyes wide. He tilted his head to a side and smiled. ‘Amma, Amma,’ he repeated.
‘My son –’ Lakshmi stammered. She covered her mouth with her hands. Tears filled her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. She sank down on her knees. ‘You are here. My son. My son.’
Daniel held out his arms. He toddled towards her. ‘Amma.’
Lakshmi drew him to herself and held him tight, tears flowed down her cheeks.
Hemachandra Mudalali, his wife and Anthony watched Lakshmi as she knelt there, her arms wrapped around her son, rocking him back and forth. Her tears fell unchecked on his curly brown hair. Daniel mumbled and rested his head on her chest.
This is right, Anthony thought, there’s a bond between them. Just for once, maybe I’ve done the right thing.
‘Let’s go back to the sitting room,’ he said to Hemachandra Mudalali. ‘I think they deserve some time together.’
***
Hemachandra Mudalali and Anthony sat across from each other, cups of tea before them. Mrs Hemachandra hovered at the door to the kitchen.
‘She is a good worker and a very good cook,’ Hemachandra Mudalali said. ‘Mrs Rasiah taught her English and even some mathematics. She is quite good at it, actually. I think Lakshmi and the Tea-maker’s daughter, Shiro, used to read English books and study together.’
Anthony flinched at the memory. Shiro, talking of her friend, her soul-mate.
‘Yes, she even helps with reading letters and helping me with accounts. Almost like having a secretary in the house.’ Hemachandra Mudalali continued.
‘How much do you want for her?’ Anthony’s voice grated. You criticised me when you thought I wanted a sex slave, but you’re using her too. Paying her a servant’s wage and surreptitiously using her to help in your business. You mean for me to haggle a price for her, like some commodity you pack in the back of that lorry of yours, you capitalist son of a bitch.
Hemachandra Mudalali sat back, his face shocked. ‘No, I don’t mean …’
Mrs Hemachandra marched up behind her husband, her brow furrowed, her face pinched in anger. She leaned over Hemachandra Mudalali and mumbled into his ear. Anthony smiled at the fierce tone in her voice. For all his bluster, Hemachandra Mudalali was definitely not the boss in this partnership. Hemachandra Mudalali shifted in his seat. His wife poked him in the shoulder. Still scowling, she whirled around and stormed out of the room towards the kitchen.
Hemachandra Mudalali looked at the ceiling and sighed. ‘No, you don’t have to pay for her. She deserves a chance at a better life.’
Anthony nodded.
Mrs Hemachandra came in and spoke to Hemachandra Mudalali. Anthony strained to listen. All he heard was Lakshmi, Daniel and Sinhalese words for boy, father, mother.
‘My wife says Lakshmi wants to come and talk with you,’ Hemachandra Mudalali said.
Anthony got to his feet. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’
Lakshmi was already at the kitchen door. She held Daniel in her arms. Daniel gurgled at Anthony. ‘Dada,’ he said, pointing to Anthony.
‘Mr Ashley-Cooper, Aiya.’ Lakshmi spoke in English, enunciating every word. ‘When my Daniel was born, I held him in my arms for two days. Then they took him away to the orphanage. I visited him, watched him grow. Knowing I would lose him. The day – ’
Tears filled her eyes and she hugged Daniel. ‘I thought I would die the day they told me he was adopted. I was so frightened. I thought what if someone used him as a servant? Or worse?’ Her lower lip trembled.
She took a deep breath and looked at Daniel. The love in her eyes lit up her face and the room. ‘But now I know that you are his father. You are a good man, sir. I know that. You will look after him. You have given me back my life, sir. Whatever happens now, I am happy.’ She placed Daniel in Anthony’s arms.
She then knelt in front of Anthony. She placed her hands palm down just in front of his feet and bowed down. Her forehead touched the tip of his shoes.
Anthony stepped back and looked at her. He felt sick. This is what we, the mighty British Empire, have done to the people in the plantation.
He cleared his throat and put Daniel down. She didn’t move. ‘Lakshmi,’ he mumbled, ‘please get up. I have something more I want to say to you.’
Lakshmi stood up, wiping her eyes. The ghost of a smile wafted across her face as she looked at Daniel, who was climbing up Anthony’s legs.
‘Lakshmi,’ Anthony said, ‘You know I have adopted Daniel as my son. I am his father now. He will grow up as an Ashley-Cooper. Inherit his rightful name and place in the world.’
Lakshmi’s eyes opened wide. ‘Sir –’ She gasped, then nodded her comprehension.
‘I came to find you because the boy needs a woman to care for him.’ Anthony stopped and watched hope and fear wage war on Lakshmi’s face. ‘Lakshmi, Daniel needs his mother.’ He searched for words. ‘I’m going to Australia. Do you know where that is?’
Lakshmi nodded. ‘I have seen a world map.’
‘Good. I plan to start a new life with Daniel. I want you to come with us.’
Lakshmi’s hands flew to her mouth. She looked from Anthony to Daniel, then at Hemachandra Mudalali and Hamine. She closed her eyes and took a deep, ragged breath.
‘Aiya.’ She stared at Anthony. Her gaze was unwavering, defiant and determined. ‘I want to be with my son. I will do anything you need for that.’
Anthony looked into her eyes. She’s letting me know that she’s willing to be my mistress. This woman will truly do anything to be with her son.
Holding her gaze, he shook his head. ‘Lakshmi, I want you to look after Daniel. I am not looking for a mistress or a lover. Do you understand that?’
‘But what is there for you? Why are you doing this if not for –’
Anthony was fast losing patience. First Hemachandra Mudalali and now Lakshmi! What makes them all think that the only thing that British men wanted from native women was sex? Even as he thought it – he knew the answer. Rule Britannia!
He glanced at Hemachandra Mudalali and his wife. ‘Can I have a few minutes alone with Lakshmi?’
‘Of course.’ Hemachandra Mudalali pointed towards a small side room that looked like a storage area. Mrs Hemachandra peeled Daniel off Anthony. ‘I’ll give him something to drink. You talk.’ She marched off towards the kitchen, gesturing Hemachandra Mudalali to follow.
Anthony took Lakshmi’s arm and drew her into the room. He tightened his grip when she flinched and pulled away. Shutting the door, he took Lakshmi by the shoulders and forced her to sit down on a low stool. He squatted in front of her and spoke in an undertone. He wouldn’t put it beyond Hemachandra Mudalali to have his ear at the keyhole.
‘Lakshmi, I want you to listen carefully. What I am going to tell you is going to sound like an unbelievable story. I don’t expect you to take it all in right now. But I want you to trust me. I will explain it all later. Can you understand me?’
Lakshmi nodded.
‘Will you trust me?’
‘You are a good man,’ Lakshmi whispered.
‘Lakshmi, did you ever feel different from the other coolie girls?’
Lakshmi nodded. ‘Yes, I thought that I was not dark like the others. Also my eyes are not like a coolie.’
Anthony nodded. ‘That’s because your real father is not a coolie. Your real father is a white man, Lakshmi.’ Anthony took a deep breath. ‘Your father is James Ashley-Cooper.’
‘But, that is your name?’
‘Yes, Lakshmi. My father is James Ashley-Cooper.’
Lakshmi shrank back from him. Then stared at him with a dawning understanding. ‘That means that –’
‘That means, Lakshmi, that I am your brother. But –’ he continued quickly, seeing the understanding turn to fear in her eyes, ‘William has a different father. He is not your brother.’
Anthony smiled at the confusion on Lakshmi’s face. ‘I know, Lakshmi. It took me some time to work it all out too.’
Lakshmi’s eyes misted. ‘Shiro Chinnamma said it would happen.’
Anthony flinched. ‘Shiro?’
‘Yes, that last Christmas we were together, she waved her pretend wand and made a wish. She wished that one day a handsome man would rescue me and take me to a faraway country.’
Anthony tried to sound casual. ‘Do you hear from Shiro?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lakshmi said. ‘She writes once every month.’ She stopped and smiled. ‘You don’t have to pretend with me. I know that you were friends.’
‘Friends. She said that?’
‘Yes, she wrote that you and she used to meet and talk after I went – was sent away. We never had secrets.’
‘Does she still write? How is she now?’
‘I haven’t had a letter for a month or so. She has friends in medical school. In her last letter she wrote about a Professor Jega.’ Lakshmi smiled. ‘I think he is in love with her.’
A shaft of agony pierced through him. Shiro was moving on. It was what he wanted for her, after all. He too, had to move on. He realised that Lakshmi was speaking to him.
‘Aiya, can I write to her? About Daniel and you?’
‘No, Lakshmi.’ Shiro must not know. She must not be hurt again. ‘Let’s leave it till we are in Australia.’