Having spoken of her so many times, perhaps it is time to introduce her. If you were to see her, garbed in the traditional splendour of her native land, what would strike you first is the long flowing dark hair, that, when let fall, seems to cascade down around her shoulders and all the way to her waist. It does not fray nor loose any luster along any inch of its length. But after admiring her tresses from a distance, as you would draw closer, it would be her eyes that would captivate you. They beam with light, with the contrast between the very darkness of their centers, and the pure whiteness that encompasses that center. They are wide, but not so wide as to suggest the weakness of a fawn or dear, but wide in the way that an inviting doorway is wide, saying that as much light floods in, as out. Those wondrous eyes are set by cheekbones which are so rounded that it can only be said that the effect is one of two jewels set in a golden necklace. For yes, her skin has the rich colour of the red gold, and heightens the quality of her eyes all the more.
It might seem that such a face is made to be smiling, and, indeed, that is almost certainly how you would find her on most days, with her strong jaw and shaped nose giving her face a strength and character. She is lovely, but not fragile, but instead, because of the strength of each feature on her face, she radiates, like the sun which has just risen all the way above the horizon.
So captivating are her natural features, that it seems almost pointless to decorate them as she does, with a tight wreath of white flowers to hold her hair back from her face, with large golden loop earings in her ears, and a smaller one that ornaments her nose. Golden necklaces adorn her neck, which she exposes much farther than many consider proper. But then, it is because of its smoothness and subtle length that they complain, the expanse of her skin being both alluring, and some how, a way of making her seem taller, more powerful than she is. Adding to this is the way she stands and carries her self. Her chin is slightly uplifted, her posture straight, her shoulders set back. Regal is the only word, indeed regal in the same sense as a king, not a queen would have. But because of this, the practiced eye, even through the layers of garments, could not help but notice that her bosom was as shapely in flesh as the sculptors of old could wish in stone, and that those garments fall downward to a her hips, which curve broadly outward.
Gayatri. It is what her mother insisted her name be. And its sound is the sigh that so many men have uttered on thinking of her. Her memory is like saffron, that spice whose savour lingers after the flavour has gone - her impression lingers after any one detail has lost focus.
Gayatri.
She is there, in a small but richly decorated room - carpets from Persia hang on the walls, the furniture is a collection - even a clutter - of specimens from Europe, China and even America. All this, along with broacdes hung from the ceiling, are the results that wealth's idleness can purchase. She is standing, while, seated, is the rather different figure of her mother's father. He is hawk nosed, and has a peculiar squint in his eye. One can see that she took some measure of his features in her face, but where as she is poetry, he is the caricature, the scribble of ink animated by comic outrage. His natural exprssion is the scowl, and the wrinkles for the cartoonists crosshatch upon him. His voice, as far from her melodious low flute, is the wheezing of a steamship.
"I must tell you, that we are tired here, of being treated as porters for the Maharaja." - it was his way of spiting his son in law, who did not permit the word to be uttered in his presence. "And his wares."
Gaytri merely smiled. He had expected her to be defensive, to say something like "how can you say such a thing. But her father had taught her to be better than that. Instead, she waited as if he had not finished, and then, just as the silence became unbearable, began:
"Please forgive my ignorance of all of the goings on, could you please tell me what has happened to offend you so? I could never leave to face my father, knowing my mother's father is unhappy with me. What ever needs to be done to set matters right, should be done, of course. But to mend, first you must tell me wear the seams have puckered."
Ravindran was the old man's name, though his grand daugther was as close to the sun as he would ever be, and he then started in on his prepared list of complaints:
"First, it seems to me that our success is our success. And I feel that he has not been properly attentive to some important aspects of this."
She let the silence hang, hoping he would continue. And, under the pressure of her beaming countenance, he finally went forward.
"For example, the temple here to Ganesh has not received proper respect from this family, he has often travelled here without paying his respects for the worldly success that has rained down upon us. I'm sure you know this is much less for me, than for many of the relatives who see such looseness of duty as an affront."
Having finished this tissue of lies, he felt sure that he would have his first small victory, she would have to call him a liar, or admit her father was impious, or perhaps some combination of both. The reason her father avoided the temple was simple - it was the haven where all of the illegal deals were done, and he, in order to maintain his appearances with the Raj had to avoid it. In short, if he went it would be proof in their eyes that he was involved in improprieties. But the accusation of religious impiety that resulted was, indeed, a dangerous opening to allow. She was sure that her father had reasons, but she was also sure that something had to be done to deal with this.
She began slowly, as if searching for words, when, in fact, she was searching for ideas.
"This would be a serious oversight on my father's part, but you know in his heart that he is as devoted to the way of Ganesh as any." Which was true, "the way things are" was among his favorite phrases, and it guided his every public action. "But what he has done is visited the temple incognito, so as not to distract from your place as the great patron of the temple. He felt, and feels I think, that it would be unwise to even allow people to murmur that your ability to be so generous is the result of his hand rather than yours. This was the best compromise he could think of at the time, knowing in his heart he had been pious, and knowing also that he had not taken any action which could detract from your authority in the least." The old man stopped. He had lied in a way so as to prevent truth from being a defense. What he had not expected was another lie in return which he could not penetrate, at least, not without making the admission that he had long had a paid thugee waiting around the temple, who watched comings and goings.
"Still in all, I appreciate such a gesture on his part - but I need him to go with me publically. In this way, he would not be seen to be impious, or presumptuous of my position." The old man's voice had adopted the same neutral tone, as if he were asking nothing more than a visiti for tea, rather than the invitation to a trap.
"Oh my, that is a wonderful idea. I must convey it to my father, so he may consider how best to fulfil it." And of course, prepare the way so that there would be no repercussions.
"It is a matter which I would prefer be dealt with without delay. I know he sends you to me because it is you who he trusts to speak for him. I was hoping that some agreement could be entered into now."
Of course you were, Gayatri thought, of course you would like me to make a promise that could be held to.
"Yes, of course, I shall write to him immediately, so that I may know the times that would be best."
"There is one obvious time..." But before he could continue she interupted with a somewhat higher pitched voice, one with more urgency and speed. It was the voice that a wife uses with a husband who is about to suggest something that she wants no part of.
"I think if you are saying that others begin to press upon you for some sign of my father's piety, then all that need be done." And here she let the pace of her voice slow again. "Then all that need be done, is send the word out that you have gently reminded my father of his duties, and that he will be making a journey here with all haste, once urgent matters in the north are dealt with. No date need be mentioned, since, after all, we have never mentioned such a visit before. Now if it is you who are pressing for a specific date, my grandfather, then please tell me so - because in that case it would seem that a mere daughter and granddaughter should not mediate between two such illustrious souls on disagreements that she has heard nothing." Or rather, she has heard everything and knows that grandfather would never admit that he was the source of any friction.
Stymied, he drew in a breath, took a drink of brakish tea from ornamented cup, and continued.
"You know, you should learn to drink tea without either milk or sugar, it is much more healthful and far better. I learned aboard ship to drink tea this way, with excellent effect."
She, of course, drank tea with milk, and a healthy dose of sugar. Her sweet tooth was absolutely legendary in the family, and this was her grandfather's way of taunting her. When her mother had been alive, and she had been young, it had been good natured, and teasing. Now that she was married off to a uselessman, and the tie between them was cut, he had lost any sense of good nature about it. Fortunately it was a move she was well familiar with and he response required almost no thought. She was about to utter some sentiment about the weakness of women.
But then she stopped, it was not like him to follow a strong attack, except with a stronger one.
"I find that because I eat so little, that the nourishment of the milk and sugar is necessary for me to continue about my work. But you are right in one thing, I have switched from cow's milk to goat's milk for its healthful effects, and from sugar to honey for the same reason." Actually, she had done so because she prefered the taste, but no matter.
"We were speaking of your disquiets, grandfather, I do dislike returning the subject such as this, it is urgent in my heart to quiet them and bring you the happiness you deserve in old age."
She watched his features, they twinged only a little bit, as he mentally disposed of his next plan. He had intended to force one of his own to be added to her retinue as "extra protection", but, without the admission of weakness, there was no politic way he could do this.
So, like any good trader who is blocked on one proposal, he moves on to the next. "It seems to me that you and Kalinda," the next eldest daughter, named for the sun to placate this same grandfather, " have spent a great deal of time here, learning the ways of the business - but that the same oportunity has not been provided to many of the boys here."
You, of course are intending to fob off agents and less useful members of the mob of distant relatives here, though Gayatri. But this is a matter easily dealt with.
"It has long seemed to my father, that there are many boys here who could be profitably married to many of the younger woman of our lands in the north. While it will cause, talk, of course, they could also be schooled in the arts of growing and harvesting and curing. It would be a beneficial arrangment since we have some what of a surplus of girls at present."
"I was thinking of someone older."
I'm sure you were thinking of that shifty nephew of yours., but then, I am not about to let you get away with that.
"I remember that one of our cousins, Matsya, was recently left without a wife by a tragedy." To be specific, she had died of malaria "It would seem to me that we should take advantage of the Raj's new more liberal policy on the remarriage of widows and widowers, and match him with one of the young girls who has lost her husband in the terrible fighting we had not long ago. I am sure we could make other similar matches. It would seem to me that we are beginning to have a solution to your disquiets - some marriages need to be arranged between the two great branches of our tree, so as to tie them yet closer together."
Gayatri knew all to well that picked carefully for quick wits, one of the widows would make sure that whoever was sent north would be loyal to her, and no one else, in short order. Men run the world - women, if they are clever, can run the men rather easily, since their pleasures and desires are often of the most obvious kind. She also knew that once word that men here would be matched to women elsewhere - along with the prospects for advancement into military professions - that her grandfather would be very hard pressed to say no now, nor could he keep a lid on it later. She would carefully seed some rumors about her father's worries and plans, and the growing of the vines would take care of the rest. Marriage was a powerful weapon, so she expected what was to come next.
He sat up straighter and glared directly at her.
"Finally, the dowries that your father offers are too high for the other daughters is too high, that money should be carefully saved, husbanded, rather than husbanded."
Oh you old man, she thought, knowing that the stinginess of her dowry was, to a large measure, the result of her difficulties. Unable to persaude Ravindran to loosen the strings, and bound by an oath to his wife that he would take no decision without his approval, her father had done the best he could with what was permitted. Of course, she knew his plot had been to marry off each daughter in turn to pliable men, unacceptable men, and then present Ravindran's son as the only logical heir to the family business. Ravindran would be willing to part with the land, so long as he had a sole contract to its produce. He would of course make sure that his daughter's daughters were cared for, in the manner than any caged animal is, but it was his son, Rakesh, who had greatest hopes for. But she did not even allow herself a sigh, but instead played a trump card that she had been saving for some time.
"I agree completely. Though perhaps for different reasons. You see, my father has come to believe that, in the family itself this buying and selling of brides is a complete waste of time. As we discussed a moment ago, it is fine for most people, since the custom is so ingrained. Hence we will still need to make one or two strategic marriages to maintain position, but as for my seven sisters, he feels that five could be sent to Europe to be educated, and thence married to nobility from Britain, or France or perhaps Russia. Their children would be in both worlds, they would seem of higher caste, and there would be no need to barter them." She laid her trumps on the table with this, in the manner of a fine card player who can claim the remaining tricks. She had established that her father would control the marrying, she had made clear what was on the table, and what was not. She allowed her self a small inner grin of satisifaction.
This bombshell caused as metaphorical a stroke in the old man, as her father had suffered in reality some time before. He was aghast - his granddaughters, married, of all things, to foreigners. He was about to explode, until he realised that he was trapped. It was he who had tried to squeeze the marriage spigot, both in a rush to marry off and in a miserliness of dowry.
But no lifelong merchant is long at a loss for words, and though he roiled for a few moments, he began again, this time in that soft wheedling tone that hagglers have when the feel they have a mark. It again could be thought of as the parody of the soft and controlled voice his granddaughter had used, one could hear in it the same careful modulation of tone, and exacting care for every nuance of accent. While day and night might separate them, there was a stream of his blood that flowed in her.
"Now, my child, I can't discuss such matters with you. That is a matter I think I should reserve for talking to you father with. It seems he has been consorting so much with officials of the Raj that he has taken to the idea that anything is possible." But before he could quite draw breath, indeed he had planned a pause there to see the effect, Gayatri inserted herself into the flow of his words.
"But anything is possible. After all, the marriage to my mother had been similar scandal, once upon a time, and you can see, and feel I think, all of the benefits that came from it. Indeed, now it is a bit of a fashion to join money and position. And you can't say that you have not greatly benefited from being among the first and foremost. The British call it being 'modern' and insist that it is essential."
She knew she had him there, it was he who had risked all on team ships when the family had for generations owned sail. It was he who had equipped even the old sailing ships with chronometers to avoid being lost at sea. It was he who had trained the crews carefully in modern navigation, and procured the best charts. The cost had been shocking, the savings had been tremendous. Again the distance between them was not so great as it appeared. Ravindran realized he had been outplayed, and began to rhetorically withdraw.
It was at that moment that there was a knock upon the door, and a muffled voice stated that there was a messenger her from the North. The door was, after a moment to allow the servant to be dismissed, allowed to swing slowly open. There stood her father’s most trusted messenger, called simple “Ox” from her youngest days, he was, as had been the custom then, a eunuch, and had had his tongue cut out so as to be unable to speak. It must have been a harrowing and awful thing to have been through, but strangely, he had never let it show. Her father had bought him, there was no use softening words, and provided for him as well as could be done, for someone so crippled by the creulty of use. His very presence meant news of the most important kind, and the etched mask of the soft folds on his face spoke of the gravest news.
Gayatri violated protocol by quietly taking out of his hand the envelope - normally he should have brought it directly to the most senior man first. But she knew it was for her. She turned the envelope over, it bore the seal of her husband - but she knew that it had either been written by her mother in law. She had known this the instant the very tips of her fingers had touched it, and felt a velvety smoothness that comes from vellum. It was cousin to all of the other envelops and pages of paper that had been part of a gift of stationary to her mother in law some years before, not long after the wedding.