River of Smoke - Amitav Ghosh [190]
That Malati had managed to make the best of her circumstances did not surprise him; what amazed him was her refusal to accept the news of his death. How could she have known? Her certainty suggested a depth of feeling that left him beggared for words.
And my son, Raj Rattan?
He has grown, his mother says, even though it is less than a year since you left. He is a bold, sturdy fellow – she says he often threatens to run away to sea, in search of you.
Neel remembered the day when the police came to arrest him, at the Raskhali Palace in Calcutta. He had been flying kites with Raj Rattan, on the roof, and when he was called away, he had said to the boy: I’ll be back in ten minutes …
I must take him some kites from China, he mumbled. They have beautiful kites here.
His mother says he makes his own now, from odd scraps of paper. She says he remembers you when he flies them.
For a while Neel could not trust himself to speak: the constriction in his throat was caused not merely by the reminders of his wife and son, but also by his remorse for his initial response to Baboo Nob Kissin. But for this strange man, so shrewd in some ways, and yet possessed of such inexplicable conceptions and attachments, he would not be here now, he would not have escaped from the Ibis. The Baboo was, in fact, almost a protective deity, a guardian spirit, and his presence in Canton was nothing to be feared: it was a gift.
I am happy to see you, Baboo Nob Kissin, said Neel, and you must excuse me for not revealing myself to you immediately. If I sought to deceive you, it was only because of Mr Burnham. If he finds out I am here, it will be all over for me.
There is no reason why he should find out, said Baboo Nob Kissin. I am the only one who knows and you can be sure I will not tell him.
But what if he recognizes me?
Oh you should have no fear of that, said Baboo Nob Kissin with a laugh. Your appearance is so much changed even I did not recognize you in the beginning. As for Mr Burnham, he cannot tell one native from another – unless you give yourself away he will not recognize you.
You are sure?
Yes, quite sure.
Neel breathed a sigh of relief: Achha to aro bolun – tell me more, Baboo Nob Kissin, tell me about my wife, my son …
*
In the latter part of January, as the date of William Jardine’s embarkation for England approached, a consensus emerged amongst Jardine’s friends and followers that his departure could not be allowed to look like a defeat, or worse still, an admission of guilt (for it was no secret that the ‘Iron-Headed Rat’ was regarded as an arch-criminal by the Chinese authorities). As a result, the preparations for his farewell dinner took on a defiant exuberance: long before the date arrived it was evident to all that it would be the most magnificent event ever seen in Fanqui-town.
The dinner was to be held in Company Hall, the largest and grandest venue in the foreign enclave. The hall was in the ‘Consulate’ which was the name by which House No. 1, in the British Factory, was known to foreigners.
The Accha Hong was separated from the British Factory only by the width of Hog Lane, and the approaches to the Consulate were clearly visible from Bahram’s daftar. Although Bahram was not an intimate of Jardine’s, he was by no means immune to the excitement caused by the upcoming dinner: so noisy and visible were the preparations that they even helped him overcome his growing aversion to the view from his window. Looking out again now he spotted, on several occasions, long lines of coolies, winding their way through the Maidan with buckets of vegetables and sacks of grain. One afternoon, hearing a sudden outburst of grunting and squealing, he rushed to the window and saw a herd of pigs racing through: the animals disappeared into the British Hong and were never seen again. The next day he was privy to an even more extraordinary sight: a long line of ducks was waddling through the Maidan, bringing all foot traffic to a halt; before the last bird had stepped off