The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [87]
Indians who had hitherto been treated as equals became ‘natives’ and the term itself lost its dictionary definition and became an opprobrious word, signifying members of an inferior – and coloured – race. The memsahibs preferred not to have any social contact with ‘natives’, though they were not above accepting the lavish hospitality of Indian princes, and prided themselves on being patient with their numerous household servants. But they rarely invited Indians into their homes, or exerted themselves to make friends among them; and few showed any interest in the history and culture of the land which the majority looked upon as heathen and barbaric. Their menfolk no longer married Indian brides or kept Indian mistresses, and the memsahibs reserved their greatest scorn for the numerous half-castes that their own countrymen had fathered in happier times, referring to them contemptuously as ‘Eurasians’ or ‘Blacky-whites’, and ostracizing anyone whom they suspected of having what came to be termed ‘a touch of the tar-brush’. There were of course many exceptions, but they were swamped by the bigoted majority, and as social contact between the races dwindled, sympathy and understanding waned, and a large part of the camaraderie of the old days was lost, to be replaced by distrust, suspicion and resentment.
Zarin Khan, standing in the hot sunlight on the dock at Bombay and watching his one-time friend solicitously helping a yellow-haired girl down the gang-way, felt his heart sink. He did not know what the years in Belait might have done to Ashok, but he had not expected any complications of this kind, and he could only hope that it might prove to be no more than a passing affair that would burn itself out in a matter of weeks. But he did not like the complacent and proprietary expression on the face of the short stout memsahib, undoubtedly the girl's mother, whom he now recognized as the wife of Harlowe Sahib, second-in-command of a regiment at present stationed at Peshawar. It boded no good, and Peshawar being less than four hours' ride from Mardan, the girl would be able to keep Ashok dancing attendance upon her at a time when his attention should be concentrated upon more important matters. Zarin frowned and was suddenly unsure of his welcome.
Major Harlowe had been unable to meet his family in Bombay, for the Frontier regiments were preparing for autumn manoeuvres and he had too much work on his hands to permit him to take leave at this time. But he had sent his bearer and his wife's ayah to see to their comfort on the long journey north, and felt sure that they would find an acquaintance or two on the train and not be too dull.
‘Of course we shall not be dull,’ cried Belinda, looking about her with sparkling eyes. ‘Ash will be with us. Besides, there will be so much to see. Jungles and tigers and elephants and – oh, do look at that adorable baby; it's only wearing a bangle. Just imagine taking one's baby out in England dressed in nothing but a bangle! Why has Mr Tilbery got all those garlands round his neck? How comical he looks, all smothered in flowers and tinsel. Mrs Chiverton has got some on too: I wish – Ash, there's a native over there who keeps staring at us. The tall one in a white turban with gold ends. I believe he knows you.’
Ash turned to look, and stood suddenly still. Zarin…
The years rolled back and for a brief moment he was a boy again, listening to Zarin telling him why he must go to England and assuring him that he would one day return: ‘the years will pass quickly, Ashok.’ They had not passed quickly; but they had passed. He had come home again, and here, waiting for him as he had promised, was Zarin. He tried to call to him but there was a lump in his throat and he could only smile foolishly.
‘What's the matter, Ash?’ inquired Belinda, tugging at his coat-sleeve. ‘Why are you looking like that? Who is that man?’
Ash found his voice: ‘Zarin.