Teatime for the Firefly. Shona Patel
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Название: Teatime for the Firefly
Автор: Shona Patel
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9781472074218
isbn:
An outrage, they said, shaking their heads. The poor girl, after waiting so many years for that worthless cad! What will happen to her now? She was getting past her prime. She could easily become a seed pumpkin.
Toothless dames sat on four-poster beds, suffused by the scent of cloves and mothballs. They rolled acacia nuts into betel leaves and clucked sadly about the waywardness of youth. The big mistake parents make, they reminded one another, is to send their boys to study abroad in the first place. So many temptations! Who is to blame when the boys make poor choices? Look what happened to the District Commissioner’s son—untarnished ancestry, fine lineage and everything, and what does he do? Marry an English waitress—a common peasant girl with man-size hands and ankles thick as tree trunks! The son is a qualified doctor. He should know better! Who will feel sorry for him when his wife runs off with one of her own kind?
Maybe Mr. Sen with all his money could still find someone for Kona. Marrying Manik Deb would have been a grave mistake. He had no sense of family honor. And who did he think he was, pretending to be an Englishman? He would expect his poor wife to wear small skirts, drink and behave in unbecoming ways. Oh yes, Kona Sen was better off without Manik Deb, that was for sure.
My tongue burned with the secret. From Manik’s letters I did not once get the impression he was a misfit. Rather, he seemed to have slipped into the tea lifestyle easily and quickly, without a wrinkle. As for Kona’s problems, I’m ashamed to say, it was hard for me to feel sorry for her. When I heard of their broken engagement the first thing I felt was a tiny shoot of joy followed by zero qualms. Kona’s plight was the last thing on my mind. I was now dwelling on the fragile possibility of my future with Manik Deb.
* * *
Just as well I did not waste my guilt because fortune soon smiled on Kona Sen. Through an obscure but lucky family connection, Kona’s father found a rich landlord’s son as a replacement groom and—oh, miracles—the horses were switched smoothly in midstream. Even luckier, the wedding date did not have to be changed; the caterer’s order did not have to be canceled. Even the print shop agreed to reprint the cards at half price. They waived the extra charge for a rush order and in a fit of generosity threw in some glitter for free.
Mr. Sen was a happy man. Manik Deb may have taken the starch out of him temporarily, but now he was back to his old form. He smiled broadly as he went door to door, personally delivering the wedding cards. He expounded the merits of his new son-in-law and left behind a trail of gold dust that glittered as brightly as his optimism.
Rumors floated in the fish market that Kona’s wedding was going to be the grandest occasion the town had ever seen. Despite the wartime rationing and shortages, nothing would be compromised. The shenai maestro—no less than the grand Ustad Palit himself—would be arriving from Calcutta with his entourage of musicians. An elevated two-story platform was being constructed for their performance. A twelve-course feast was planned. The very best rui fish, famous for its size and flavor, was being shipped in from across the Padma River. Guests would have their own silver finger bowls with scented rose water to wash their fingers. As for the mouth-freshening paan served at the end of the meal, it would be coated in real gold leaf.
Nobody talked about Manik Deb. He was the fallen son, the tainted seed. He had gone from being the most eligible bachelor in town to a nonentity. For the townsfolk, Manik Deb had ceased to exist.
* * *
Shortly after the broken engagement, I received a letter from Manik Deb. I expected it to be filled with his thoughts on what had happened, or more wistfully, his declarations of love for me. It was neither. It was all about a leopard hunt.
How odd. Surely he knew his own marriage had been called off? Why was there no mention of it in his letter? I decided to bring it up.
Aynakhal T.E.
10th October 1944
Dear Layla,
You make me laugh! Of course I know my own wedding has been called off! As for how I received the news, it was a telegram. Short and sweet.
You offered me your condolences. All I can say is that you are a terrible liar! In all honesty, I am happy, and I suspect you are, too. Don’t deny it! My biggest relief comes from knowing that Kona has found a more deserving husband. In all sincerity I wish her well. If my decision to take up this job had negatively affected her future, I can’t say I could have lived the rest of my life guilt free.
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