Past and present go head to head in Bulbul Sharma’s novel set in the quiet mountain village of Shaya

Rose was on the warpath again. It was a bright, sunny morning. The clouds raced each other above the hills as she tried to chase the partridges away. The forest sparkled and the wind rushed over her head as she hissed and waved her hands, feeling very foolish. The partridges came towards her and then changed their minds and moved back again. “Get away...get away, you stupid things. Go! Shoo,” she cried, nervously looking up to see if anyone from Sandy’s shooting group was nearby. She could hear gun shots and loud laughter coming from the garden. These people obviously had no idea how to behave on a shoot.

Suddenly one bird rose in the air and then sank down again in a flurry of flapping wings. “They seem to have a death wish, these idiotic birds,” Rose muttered, looking around. Sandy’s party was calling out to each other now, laughing and shouting. “They would never be invited to a proper shoot,” she thought. A stinging nettle pricked her sharply, sending a shooting pain down her arm, but Rose did not move. She continued to stand quietly behind the shrubs, holding her breath. Shankar was crouched on the ground beside her, making strange hissing sounds, as Janak watched him with a worried frown on his face. The plan was to scare the birds away so that when Sandy’s party came out there would be no birds to shoot. A petty revenge but revenge nevertheless. She was going to ruin his shooting party so that his guests would never come back and he – bored without his friends – would pack up his bags and leave.

“Why are we hiding like this?” asked Janak.

“Shut up,” whispered Shankar, putting a finger on his lips. Albela sat quietly under a tree, looking away as if he did not want to be a part of what was happening. Janak muttered something under his breath.

“It was a big mistake to include Janak in this plan,’”Shankar thought as he peered over the raspberry bushes. As soon as the birds came waddling towards them, he would jump up and chase them away to the other side of the hill so that these city people could not shoot them. That was what Rani-ji wanted. He understood Rani-ji, knew exactly what she had in mind, but Janak did not. Janak, unfortunately, had a conscience, which always made life difficult. Even when they were young boys, Janak was the first one to confess any wrongdoing and get them a thrashing. “I could have easily handled this bird-scaring business and left Janak at home with his beloved sewing machine,” he thought, giving Janak an angry look.

Rose pushed the branches away, upsetting a family of beetles, and looked at Janak’s distraught face. Perhaps she should not have included the tailor in this plan – he seemed very reluctant. In any case, it wasn’t working. The wretched birds were going the wrong way and she was sure the shooting party would soon spot them. The birds were happily running towards the guests, unaware of their impending death. In fact, she and Shankar were doing the work of beaters, and driving the partridges towards Sandy’s friends, making life easier for these people who could not shoot straight.

The tailor was irritating her now, as he kept on with his muttering. “This is not right. Why do you want to spy on Sandy sahib? What has he done wrong? He can shoot birds on his own land. We all do, Rani-ji. It is not a sin to take one or two birds to eat once in a while.”

“He has cut two deodar trees on my land. That is very wrong. And he must not shoot birds here. I will not allow it,” said Rose, and her voice sounded shrill and tinny to her own ears. It was not her land anymore, but he still had no right to cut trees or shoot birds.

“He chopped down a few dead trees to build a road. It is good for the village to have a pukka road to the top of the mountain. We must thank him and not trespass on his land like this. This is not correct,” Janak whispered, his eyes sad and accusing.

Rose turned her face away. She felt like when as if she was a little girl and Edith was scolding her for pulling her pet parakeet’s tail feathers.

The sun was setting behind the mountains and soon it would be dusk. Rose could not hear any noises from the hunting lodge. Maybe they had all gone back in now? This was a very silly plan, she had made. She must get more organised and not depend on this idiotic Shankar who talked and talked and then did nothing. When she tried to explain something to him he fell into a sullen silence. That panther episode had been so humiliating for her.

Rose could now hear music playing loudly in Sandy’s garden. That would scare the birds away for sure. There had been no need for her to scramble about the hillside with Janak and Shankar, trying to shoo them away.

Though he had not said anything to her, Rose had a feeling that Sandy knew who had sent the panther into his garden. When they had met, he had grinned and said, “Lots of wild panthers around here, I was lucky to see one the other day. It looked very tired and old though.”

What Rose found most irritating about him was his easy, careless charm. He just had to look at someone, man, woman or child, and they seemed to fall into his web at once. Even her dogs greeted him like an old friend and jumped up to lick his face. Leela already adored him though she had only just met him. The servants seemed to genuinely like and respect him, even Dinu and Maniadi, who were her old family retainers and should have shown more loyalty to her.

And it was not just because he was so rich that people fawned over him. He had a boyish way about him, though he must be at least fifty years old. He laughed in a carefree manner and played silly pranks and everyone around him was mesmerised by him. Everyone, but not her. She hated charming men; she found them shallow and false. They were like lounge lizards who hung around bars, waiting to pounce on any woman who came by. John had warned her about these kinds of men. Charming men, he had told her, were dangerous, and she should never let her guard down if she ever met one. Everyone said Ranjit was a charming man but he had been a real gentleman, and a gentleman could be as charming as he liked.

Just yesterday, when they were sitting under the magnolia, she had heard a terrible noise and looked up at the sky. The machine was hovering right above her head and someone seemed to be looking down at her. She quickly lowered her face. “Sandy sahib, Sandy sahib!” cried the women, pointing. Rose refused to look up and continued with her teaching, though her small group of students had all fled to the top of the hill to watch the helicopter land.

They had had a few weeks of peace and quiet, but for the last two days music had been blaring once more from the hunting lodge as cars drove up and down, shattering the peace of her hillside. Why couldn’t they all sit still and read or something? Why must they stomp all over the place like hyperactive children, she had wondered.

“Someone is coming here,” whispered Shankar.

Panicked, Rose turned to leave, but her dupatta seemed to have got caught on the branches of a thorny bush. She tugged impatiently and then suddenly she heard footsteps coming up behind her. Shankar was ahead and Janak and Albela were sitting quietly, at a distance. Her heart began to race as she turned around.

“Shhh,” said Sandy, putting a finger on his lips. He was standing right behind her, so close that she could see a faint scar on his cheek. He carefully freed her dupatta from the branches and then pointed to the undergrowth. A fat, grey partridge was sitting very still, looking the other way. It was strange it had not scuttled away as partridges always did when they heard a strange noise. Then Rose saw that it was a juvenile bird and it was frozen with terror.

“Is this err...a pheasant?” whispered Sandy, and Rose began to laugh. Then she quickly stopped and looked up at him.

“No, it is certainly not a pheasant. But then how would you know what a pheasant is?” she said, and walked very quietly towards the bird, stepping carefully over the uneven ground.

The bird watched her, alert and wary, but it did not try to fly away. When she picked it up, it just shivered a bit and then lay still in her arms. Then she saw that one of its wings was slightly torn.

“See what you have done,” she said, turning to Sandy angrily. “If you want to shoot, then learn to shoot properly. You cannot leave half-injured birds like this for them to die a long, painful death.”

Sandy stared at her for a moment and then muttered, “Sorry, but I have not fired any shots at all. We were just fooling around with an air gun, shooting at beer cans. None of us knows how to handle a proper gun. We are not the hunting and shooting types like you people, you know that. Our maharajas only learnt to shoot to impress our English rulers.”

“That is not true. The Mughals were great shots and so were the Maratha rulers. Anyway, why did you buy our hunting lodge if you do not know how to shoot partridges? You should have bought a hotel in Simla or a villa in Kasauli. That’s where people like you love to hang out,” she said, and was shocked to hear how shrill her voice sounded.

Sandy looked at her with surprise. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness, I must have made a mistake. But your late husband, a very kind and polite gentleman, said he was keen to sell and we had even agreed on a price. In fact, I paid him an advance. Things just got a bit delayed, and unfortunately Raja sahib died. Well, I kept my side of the deal, but I can see you are upset for some reason. I did not know that you were against the sale,” he said, watching her warily. “You can visit your old house any time, you know. In fact, come and supervise the garden for me.” Then he laughed. “People like us don’t know anything about gardens and people like you know a lot. You can charge any fee you like. Just speak to Jala, he will fix it,” he said, and walked away, whistling softly under his breath.

The partridge uttered in her hand and Rose set it down gently on the ground. It ran into a thick clump of ferns and hid itself. Rose knew she could not do anything to save the bird.

Nature would take its course. Either it would manage to heal its wing and live, or some bigger creature would eat it to survive. That was the way of the world. Powerful creatures always won and you were too helpless to do anything.

As Rose walked back home, Shankar, Janak and Albela trailing behind her like defeated soldiers, her mind was in a hurt and confused state. Why had Ranjit not told her he was planning to sell this place? Why be so secretive? It was not like him at all. Why had Monty not told her anything? Sandy must be lying. Ranjit had always told her this was her home and she could live here forever. He knew how much she loved Shaya.

The hills seemed to close in on her and she felt dizzy. Was everyone against her? Was everyone trying to deceive her? Rose saw Shaya changing in front of her eyes. No, that was impossible. Nothing could ever change here. She would not allow it. is was her home, this was where she was going to live till she died. All she wanted was a small, peaceful corner in the hills to live in. Suddenly, she was frightened of the forest, and at the same time she was afraid that she could do nothing to save it.

Excerpted with permission from Love and Learning Under the Magnolia, Bulbul Sharma, Westland.