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Sati

Colonial India (1830)

Location: Calcutta

"So the zamindar is celebrating his son's nuptials?" asked Edward as his horse trotted along Emmett's on the unpaved road. Rosalie, Emmett's wife, followed them in a carriage. At least there was a road, he mused. The previous week he had been sent to a village a couple of miles away, and most of the way was just a path full of dust.

When he had asked Emmett how he managed to remember the confusing, narrow paths going to this village and that, he smiled and said that he didn't; he just depended upon his horse!

"Eh, we won't be witnessing the actual wedding," answered Emmett, his large body moving up and down easily with the horse's gait. "That was a private affair and has been over a few days ago. This party we are going to is more a means to show off the wealth and splendour of the family. Practically everyone who is of any importance in Calcutta has been invited!"

Edward gave his friend a half-smile. "I can understand why you have been invited. You are the Police Superintendent of the area, after all. Mr Sen would want to keep you in good humour. But I am nobody of importance, so why invite me? How does he even know of me?"

Emmett gave him a jovial wink. "I might have mentioned you in passing, as an old family friend and a newcomer to this beautiful city. When I told him that you have not seen the inside of a single palace here, he was most eager to show you his!"

Edward groaned. He was grateful to his friend for taking him under his wing and making sure that he was not lonely in a new place, but wrestling an invitation from a complete stranger was too much. "What if I make a fool of myself, Emmett? These zamindars can be very particular, I have heard. I have no idea how to behave around them!"

Luckily Emmett was used to his friend's broodiness and laughed off his fears.

"Edward, relax. You are just one of the many guests on this great occasion; nobody is going to pay you much attention. Now cheer up. I promise you will enjoy yourself!"

Edward Masen, a doctor by profession, had landed in Calcutta barely six months ago fresh from Oxford. Like many men of his age, he had been in search of new horizons after becoming a physician. Emmett McCarty, a family friend who had been working in Calcutta as a Police Superintendent, suggested that Edward come over and give the city a chance. His parents were sceptical, but Edward persuaded them that he would be all right.

And so far he had been all right, if rather bewildered by the strangeness of a new place and customs that made no sense to him. Inside the hospital it was not difficult to forget the outside world and just focus on the patients, of which there was an unending line. Emmett and Rosalie had frequently invited him to their beautiful home so that he wouldn't miss his family too much. They were in their late thirties and had been in Calcutta for almost two years, having left their two children behind in Britain so they could obtain a good education. Gregarious of nature and warm of heart, they had been the perfect hosts to the young man who had left his home in the hope of learning about new diseases and establishing himself as a competent physician.

They had also introduced Edward to a few of their friends, and he had received invitations to parties and picnics, some of which he had accepted. Though he had behaved perfectly in such gatherings, Edward found that he did not enjoy crowds very much. He had explored the city a little on his own and found it fascinating. A few times he had been required to go to nearby villages and see patients who could not travel to Calcutta easily, and he considered this a valuable experience, both in learning more of diseases as well as understanding the people living there.

He had heard of zamindars—landlords who had replaced erstwhile kings and lived as ostentatiously as if they were indeed a king themselves, but never been to one's house, or mahal as they called it. However, he had the impression that they were a fussy lot, ready to take offence at the least provocation. He had no inclination of offending one of them and finding himself at the wrong end of a gun!

Soon they reached Chandra Mahal—Moon Palace—the residence of Sri Chandra Madhab Sen, and Edward gawked at the opulence in front of him even as a servant took their horses and another sprinkled rose water on them in welcome. The double-storey building, clearly inspired by Gothic architecture, was in the shape of a curved moon. Enclosed within was a large garden, and the grounds outside were extensive. As they entered the garden, Edward noticed an elaborate arrangement of fountains, all in separate lotus-shaped structures and containing replicas of famous Greek statues. With the approach of twilight, servants had begun to light lamps around the house, giving the garden a mystical quality.

Emmett tugged at his elbow, enjoying the spectacle of his young friend staring at everything open-mouthed. "Edward? Where have you disappeared to, my friend? Let's go inside."

Blushing at his obvious wonderment at the sight in front of them, Edward turned towards Emmett. "Have you been here before? I can't believe someone who is not a king has this much money to spare. Look at those statues! And there are so many flowers…the air is fragrant with their combined smells!" And he took a deep breath to have his fill of the said air.

Emmett laughed at his enthusiasm. "Yes, yes, that is all true, but are you planning to spend the whole evening standing here? Come on, there is much more to see inside."

As the three of them proceeded to the main entrance of the palace, Emmett informed Edward that he had indeed been there before, though the show of wealth still continued to astound him sometimes. As for the money, the zamindars did have a lot of it, almost an obscene amount. The revenue from several villages assigned to them made its way to their coffers, as did the income from various businesses introduced by the East India Company. Even after paying taxes to the British there was a lot left. They were the aristocratic class of India.

"I have heard that one of them spent three lac rupees on the wedding of his cat!" he said, causing Edward's mouth to open in astonishment again. This time he shut it quickly though, before Emmett could tease him any more. Emmett laughed anyway.

"You are pulling my leg, aren't you?"

Emmett placed his hand over his heart. "Not at all. As fantastic as this seems, it did happen. I am telling you, they have money to burn. Three lacs is nothing for them. And of course, there is the issue of prestige as well. They want the whole city to talk about them!" He turned to his wife for validation. "Isn't that so, Rosalie?"

Rosalie agreed that it was indeed so, and the zamindars did compete against each other to show how much they could spend. Edward mulled over the statement while he climbed the dozen or so steps to the gigantic doorway in front of them and entered a majestic-looking hall filled with men, both European and Indian, in their best attire. There were arches and columns and mouldings, and long, narrow windows with windowpanes fitted with stained glass. There were three huge chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that wouldn't look out of place in a royal palace, he thought. Servants roamed about holding trays laden with expensive-looking glasses of wine.

Zamindar Chandra Madhab Sen was an imposing man, both in height and width. Dressed in a white silk dhoti and embroidered muslin kurta of the finest quality, he had a grey shawl wrapped around his broad shoulders and carried himself like the lord of all he surveyed. When he shook hands with Edward and welcomed him, the thick moustache adorning his broad face wiggled a little, arresting Edward's attention until Emmett elbowed him in the side. Hastily he stammered a few words of thanks and how impressed he was with his surroundings. This produced a genuine smile on the older man's face, and he assured him that he was not the first person to be overwhelmed by the grandeur of Chandra Mahal. He also invited him to look around as much as he wished to, as long as he didn't enter the andarmahal.

"Andar…mahal?" repeated Edward, mystified.

"The inner sanctum, reserved for the womenfolk," explained the great man with a condescending air.

Edward realised then that all the women among the guests were European. So Indian women, even the guests, must have proceeded directly into this inner sanctum.

"No, of course not, Sir. I will have Mr McCarty show me around, then I won't make a mistake."

Mister Sen inclined his head in a regal manner, and they took their leave.

Emmett introduced Edward to a few people he knew.

"Where is the groom?" asked Edward. "Aren't we supposed to congratulate him or something?"

Emmett shook his head. "No, that's not important. As I told you, this is more an occasion to show off his wealth than an actual reception. The groom is probably somewhere nearby though, getting drunk with his friends. It is not as if he won't be wed again, you know."

Edward frowned as he considered the implication.

"You mean to say he will have more than one wife while the first one is still alive?"

"Of course. Have you not heard this in the time you have been here?" He continued as Edward shook his head in a no. "These high caste Brahmins won't marry their daughters outside of a few select families, so one man having multiple wives is a fairly common thing. Mister Sen himself has eight wives, but the number can be as high as fifty."

"That is impossible!"

"It has happened, my friend, I assure you. Except the first three or four wives, all the rest continue to live at their father's place, and the husband visits them in rotation. Some of the younger ones see him only twice or thrice in their life before he dies."

Edward blinked in astonishment. "Of course," he said slowly, "with every wedding the age gap between the husband and wife would increase…"

"And there is a considerable gap to begin with," added Emmett as they wandered around the room. "Take this wedding for example. I know the groom is twenty years old, whereas his wife cannot be more than ten or eleven at the most."

"But why?"

Emmett smiled wryly. "They believe that a girl should be married off while she is still pure, which means before she reaches puberty. Some are married as young as seven or eight. The groom on the other hand is at least eighteen at the time of his first wedding."

The soft-textured cloth spread on the wall had Edward caressing it in appreciation. "Is this a shawl?" he asked as he tried to digest all the strange facts Emmett had fed him one after the other.

"Not just any shawl, this is pashmina, the costliest of all shawls. To display these on a wall…" Emmett broke off as a gentleman hailed him and asked him to introduce his friend.

After they had exchanged polite greetings, Emmett continued to talk with his acquaintance while Edward wandered farther, marvelling at the various artefacts scattered around the room. There were tall Chinese vases with scenes and designs hand-painted on them, floor-to-ceiling Belgian mirrors with decorative frames and even a fancy-looking hookah on a round table. Oil paintings abounded, and the strategically placed bronze and marble statues looked like they had come out of a museum. He didn't get too close to anything for fear of breaking it by accident.

As he stepped through a doorway on the opposite side of the main entrance, still entranced by the beauty around him, he found himself in a spacious courtyard, a covered gallery running all around it. Nobody seemed to be around except a couple of servants hurrying to some task, so he deemed it safe to explore. An ornate mirror at some distance to the left of the door caught his attention and he turned to admire it, but as soon as he looked up, he got the shock of his life.

Beside his own face there was another face in it—a beautiful face with large dark eyes that were alight with curiosity, followed by a small, straight nose and the most luscious pair of lips he had ever seen. The woman seemed young, but the courtyard was not as well-lit as the hall so it was difficult to ascertain her age. What was certain was that she was staring at his reflection with as much fascination as he was at hers. Then he blinked, and the image disappeared.

Coming out of his trance he turned around on his heel, but all he could see was a small figure running across the courtyard. She was wearing a colourful sari and her head was covered. A musical tinkling produced by the movement of her bangles and anklets accompanied her dash, and then she disappeared into one of the many rooms that opened in the courtyard. A heavy set of curtains closed behind her.

For a moment Edward kept on staring in the direction she had gone, then he turned back to the mirror, foolishly hoping that the girl would show her face again. Then he chuckled softly and went back to the celebration.

They partook from a sumptuous dinner, with a special section of European cuisine for the guests who could not have the traditional, spicy Indian dishes. Edward spoke with a few more acquaintances of Emmett's, but his mind remained on the mysterious girl. Who could she have been? A servant? A family member? A guest? Whoever she was, he was certain he would never see her again.

How could he search for her when he knew nothing about her? Why, he didn't know even her name!

Emmett noticed that Edward was rather quiet on their way back, but it wasn't unusual so he didn't remark on it. However, when Edward heaved a sigh for the third time, Emmett could not resist asking what the matter with him was.

Edward considered sharing his thoughts with his friend, but what would have been the use?

"Nothing, I am just tired," he answered. "I suppose I am not used to so much company and conversation in one night."

It was true enough that Emmett let the matter rest.

Bela Mohini, or Bela as she was affectionately called by her mother, hid behind the curtains and peeked through them, watching the handsome stranger look in her direction hopefully for a few minutes. Then he turned towards the mirror, shook his head and went back to the great hall.

She walked to her room slowly, her mind full of questions. Who could he have been? He was clearly a gora saheb, an Englishman by his looks, but what else was he?

Bela was curious by nature. As a child she had been full of questions for her mother Radha Rani. Fortunately Radha Rani was a patient, loving woman and didn't mind answering the child's questions even though she was busy managing a stately house where lavish parties were frequently held for important guests, both Indian and European. Considering her husband's position, everything at these gathering had to be perfect.

As Bela grew up, Rani found it increasing difficult to answer all her questions, not knowing the answers herself. She was not an educated woman and had no idea about the countries of the world or the distance to the stars, not that many men had at that time. But there were also questions she asked herself sometimes. Why did women had to behave in a certain manner? Why were they expected to be quiet and obedient always? Why did they not have the freedom that men had?

When Bela asked her mother why she was being married off at the age of nine though her elder brother would marry only after eighteen, Rani had no answer except that it was the custom.

And so young Bela was married to another zamindar from a distant village. He was a stout gentleman in his forties, but he was from a high caste family and he was wealthy. And those were the most important factors.

And yes, he already had a number of wives, but what did that matter?

Bela stayed at her father's house after being married, so her life did not change in any way. She did know that her husband would visit her when she had grown up somewhat, but she had no idea when that would happen. Neither did she care; he was a complete stranger for her. She did not even remember his face.

Her mother was relieved that the one time Bela's husband did visit them was when Bela had been having her monthly course and had been isolated for a full week. She was fourteen then, old enough to be bedded by her husband, but Rani remembered her own ordeal very well and was glad Bela did not have to suffer from it. The older she was, the less painful it would be for her, she hoped.

There were tutors for the boys, of course, and one of them was a British gentleman who taught them to speak, read and write English. Rani was fully aware that Bela was not supposed to attend these sessions, but she did not stop her from listening at the door or hiding in the room when she could, hoping she would learn something about the world.

Chandra Madhab had other wives, of course, but only the eldest three lived in the mahal. One of the boys from the other wives was Chaman, five years younger to Bela. He was sweet and loved her, so he allowed Bela to read and write with him while he did his homework. The two brothers who were older to her could not understand why Bela would willingly subject herself to something so boring. Nevertheless they were indulgent enough not to mention it to their father, and so her secret remained safe.

Very, very slowly over the years Bela had accumulated knowledge in different subjects, random in some and cohesive in others that she held precious. Her English was somewhat broken because the tutor did not focus on grammar much, instead teaching his pupils words they would require to use in practical life. Even the test they were given was to check the number of words they had memorized!

Bela knew she would never go to school, but that did not prevent her from dreaming. Somehow she would live a life that would have more than managing the household and bringing up children, she thought, though she had no idea how that would be.

Now that she had seen Edward, of course she had something different to dream, something she had never thought about. While she practiced speaking English with her brother, she kept on thinking how beautiful he was, like one of the statues in their garden that she had always admired. Not as white as marble of course, but tall and broad-shouldered and with features as defined as they had, and his eyes…She could still feel them staring into hers. She wasn't sure but…were they green?

Bela had peeked into the great hall before through one of the narrow windows opening into the courtyard even though she wasn't supposed to be there. She liked staring at the big people, as she thought of them, laughing and talking of very important matters, no doubt. She always took great care that none of the guests might see her, which was easy as they were always very involved among themselves. But that day one of them had stepped out of the hall and had been looking into a mirror in the gallery, and Bela had stopped some distance away, unsure whether to go to the window or wait until he had gone back. Curiously she had lifted her veil so as to see him better, and their eyes had met in the mirror.

She could not define what happened in that brief moment, but suddenly she realised that she would be in trouble if one of the servants saw her standing there, not to mention with her face visible to a strange man, that too a saheb. She turned and ran, covering her face hastily, not stopping until she was behind the curtains of the other room.

She wished very hard that she might get to see him again.

Two weeks passed, during which Edward dreamt of the beautiful girl with the lively eyes and rued that he had no way to find her. He attended to his patients dutifully and spoke with his colleagues when required, but remained lost in his thoughts otherwise.

And then, one day the impossible happened.

He was asked to go to Chandra Palace to attend the zamindar's twelve year-old son. Apparently the boy had been unwell for a few days, and the physician who usually attended to the members of the Sen family was away.

Edward's heart was ready to beat out of his chest at the news. Immediately he checked his black bag for instruments and medicines and set out for the palace.

Of course, he mused, the girl might have been a guest at the party. In that case there would be no chance of finding her there. His spirits plummeted somewhat at the thought, which was good in a way as it brought his colour back to normal. Otherwise the zamindar might have thought that he himself was unwell!

The palace was no less grand in the daylight, but Edward had no time to spare looking here and there. As soon as he had handed over the reins of his horse to the servant outside, he asked to be taken to the patient.

Another servant took his bag and led him to the courtyard that he had seen earlier. They crossed it and ascended a flight of narrow, steep stairs leading to the upper storey, and then walked further. Finally Edward was ushered into a large, elaborately furnished bedroom.

On a bed in the middle of the room lay a boy, pale and sweaty and covered with a thin blanket. His eyes were closed and his face had a pinched look. A woman sat near him on the bed, stroking his forehead gently. As she heard Edward step inside, she turned away from him, pulling a long ghomta so as to cover her face.

The servant who had accompanied Edward announced in Bangla that the doctor had arrived. He respectfully motioned to Edward to take the chair placed on the opposite side of the bed, and then retreated to stand near the door.

The woman explained in broken English that the patient was her brother and had been having stomach ache for the past three days. At first they thought he must have eaten too much, so they tried some home remedy but it didn't help much. After two days he developed a fever and could not keep his food down. That is when their mother became worried and asked the estate manager to send for the doctor.

"Where is your father?" he asked curiously. According to Emmett, married women didn't go in front of strangers in these high class families, and this woman's red sari and jewellery indicated that she was definitely married.

"He…gone to Chhoto Ma," she answered, by which he understood that he had gone to the house of one of his wives.

He shrugged and began to examine his patient, asking questions in between. Finally he concluded that the boy had a stomach infection. Painful, but nothing life-threatening. Thank heavens it wasn't Typhoid fever!

He took out the required medicines from his bag and wrote down the instructions to administer them, and that the patient was to have plenty of fluids to avoid dehydration. Then he turned to the woman doubtfully.

"Can you read English?"

Her head bobbed under the veil. "Yes," she replied in her sweet voice.

He thought it better to make sure that she understood his instructions. "Here," he said, handing the prescription to her. "Read this and ask me if you have any doubts."

The tips of their fingers touched as she took the paper from him, and Edward felt as if he had been burnt. Startled, he drew his hand back, only to see the woman do the same. How strange!

She tried to read the words, then impatiently lifted the veil a little so she could see them better. Edward had a glimpse of her bare shoulder at the movement and looked away, feeling the tips of his ears heat up.

She started reading aloud, stumbling here and there, and he corrected her patiently. Then she frowned at something and asked what that was.

Edward looked at the prescription in her hand. "What is what?"

She laughed softly, the sound of it like the tinkle of bells. Then she said something to the boy on the bed, but Edward only understood her repetition of his words. "Wot is wot?"

The boy smiled. Apparently they found his speech funny.

The woman jabbed her finger at something, trying to make Edward understand, but as he didn't want to lean too close to her he could not see what she was pointing at. She seemed to become frustrated and thrust the paper towards him, at the same time lifting her veil some more and saying, "This—what is this word?"

But Edward could not look at the paper, he did not even hear her, for his whole attention was on her face—the very face he had seen in the mirror and had been dreaming of for the past two weeks.

The woman haunting him was not only a zamindar's daughter, but she was also a married one. He could not have made a worse choice if he had deliberately planned to make himself miserable.

Bela could not believe her eyes. The doctor who had come to treat her brother was the same man she had seen the other day!

She had deliberately avoided looking at him while he had been speaking to her. It was enough that her mother had allowed her to be in the room. With her father visiting one of his wives and her elder brothers away on estate business, she was the only one who could explain the symptoms to the doctor and understand the instructions. Chaman was too young. He would probably forget everything as soon as the doctor had left!

She was thinking that he had a nice voice while he was speaking with her brother, and nice hands too—which was all she could see with the long ghomta.

When she had finally looked at him, pointing at the word—a very long word beginning with de—that she could not understand, she forgot what she was talking about and kept on staring at him. His eyes were green, she had been right about them—and such a beautiful green, like the new leaves of the mango tree in the backyard. He looked as astonished as she felt, and then his lips moved but no sound came forth.

The servant cleared his throat loudly, and Bela dropped her veil and again pointed to the word. Edward explained, asked to let him know how Chaman was doing and left, feeling as if he had been singed to his very soul.

When Emmett invited Edward for dinner the next evening, he wanted to refuse. Even though Edward knew that he could not do anything about the situation he kept on brooding on it, making him very poor company indeed. But he also knew Emmett wouldn't take no easily, so finally he agreed.

He tried to be more animated at dinner, and believed he had done a good job. But when Rosalie had left him and Emmett for their after-dinner smoke in the porch outside, Emmett pounced on him.

"There is something the matter with you, my friend; don't even try to deny it," he said, though in a kindly manner. Edward looked at him and sighed. He didn't want to burden Emmett with his troubles. What could he do anyway?

"Come on, you know you can tell me anything," Emmett encouraged him. "Are you feeling homesick? Adjusting here can be difficult, I know that from experience."

"No, that's not it," said Edward in a low voice. "I mean, yes, I miss certain things about home. Sometimes I even miss my parents." He smiled wryly at that, and Emmett chuckled. "But no, it's not so bad. I can last here for some years."

"Then what is it?" asked his friend, head tilted to one side as he studied him. Edward opened his mouth but could not find the words, so he just shook his head. Suddenly Emmett's expression cleared as if he had seen the light.

"You need a wife!"

Edward stared at him.

"Of course you need a wife," reiterated Emmett with increasing confidence. "Young, hard-working fellow like you, living far away from home…The thing is, there are not too many young, unmarried women here that I know of." He clicked his fingers. "Let me ask Rosalie, all right? She knows more about these things than I do. There have to be a few girls suitable for you, or you can wait some and then go home and get married. Come back though. You can have a good, comfortable life here."

Edward shook his head, half amused, half annoyed. "Uh, no, I hadn't thought about getting married, not yet anyway. Mrs McCarty need not trouble herself looking for a girl for me. I just…" He closed his eyes in frustration.

Emmett dropped his voice to a whisper. "Um, do you want a mistress? I can find you a nice girl who will cook and clean for you, keep house and…uh, make you feel less lonely at night. It's nothing to be ashamed of," he added when Edward looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "A man has his needs, especially at your age. And it's better than going to a prostitute. You never know what disease you might get—"

Holding his head in his hands, Edward groaned. "Emmett, stop. I am not looking for a mistress either, and I have no plans to visit a nightwalker. It's…something I don't understand, and you can't help me, so just leave it."

However, Emmett wasn't going to let the matter rest. He was nothing if not tenacious.

"If it's not any of these, then…" He narrowed his eyes at Edward. "Have you fallen in love, by any chance? Is that what is eating you up?"

"I don't know, I don't know what has happened to me," whispered Edward, his voice breaking off uncertainly. "All I know is I cannot get her out of my mind…and there is no way, no way I can approach her…I have seen her only twice, Emmett, but I can't get her out of my head."

Emmett was perplexed. "Who—why can't you—oh no," he said slowly, piecing everything together. "Is it someone you saw at Mr Sen's place? Was she there when you went to check upon his son?" Edward nodded, and Emmett's eyes widened comically. "Please tell me it's not his wife!"

"No!" Edward yelled, then glanced at the house and lowered his voice. "No, of course it's not his wife." His shoulders slumped. "However, she is someone's wife. I don't know her name, but she is Mr Sen's daughter. She explained what was wrong with her brother and took the prescription from me, and I saw her face."

Emmett was surprised. "She spoke English?"

"Not very well," said Edward, "but she managed. I take it is unusual?"

"Very unusual, for a woman from a zamindar's family. And you have seen her before too?"

"Yes, on the day of the party."

Emmett started shaking his head. "You are playing with fire, my friend. Mr Sen might invite us to parties and sweet-talk to us, but he would be very upset if he was to come to know of this. This woman you saw—how old was she?"

"Around eighteen would be my guess; I can't say for sure."

"She is probably at her father's home because her husband already has several wives," mused Emmett. "However, it does not matter—she is married and therefore unavailable. If at all you have to speak with her when you visit your patient, be very careful. This will not be taken lightly."

Edward huffed. "Do you think I am not aware of that? But Emmett, what kind of life is this? She will spend her whole life at her father's, waiting for her husband to visit her sometimes? That's it?"

Emmett looked uncomfortable. "Look, I understand it's strange to us, but it is what they do. Tradition, you know? If she is lucky, she will get a child out of it, if her husband is not too old or dies too soon."

Edward winced.

"It was much worse before the Sati system was abolished," continued Emmett in a bid to show him that the situation had improved. "At least the poor widows get to live now!"

"What do you mean, get to live?"

"Well, I told you that the age gap between husband and wife increases with each marriage, right? So what happened was that when the husband passed away most of his wives would still be alive, some of them quite young. The horrible thing was all of them had to die with him, whether they were fifty of fifteen."

"Die how?" Edward was puzzled.

"They were burned on the funeral pyre, along with the dead body of the husband." Emmett shuddered, and Edward felt sick.

"Burnt alive? That's beyond horrible, it's inhuman!"

"Yes, it is, which is why I was much relieved when it was abolished, just last year. Even after that some cases have been reported, and sometimes we have had to rush to the bank of the Ganges River and stop the immolations." He shook his head in disgust. "Do you know, sometimes the widow would be drugged so she wouldn't try to run away from the pyre? And there were men standing around with long poles in their hands, whose job was to push the woman back in case she tried to escape?"

Feeling shaky, Edward sat down on the steps. "I still can't believe it. How can people be so cruel?"

"Oh, it originated in a story from Hindu mythology, where Sati—the wife of Lord Shiva—self –immolated because her father had humiliated her husband. The term meant a woman who was absolutely devoted to her husband. This was later interpreted as the wife willing to die with her husband because she could not imagine a life without him. However, with the passage of time it became a custom that had to be followed whether the woman was willing or not, or the family's name would be ruined." Emmett sat down beside him and offered him another cigarette, and they were quiet for some minutes.

"She is so beautiful, and so innocent." Edward heaved a sigh.

"All you can do is to wish her a good life, Edward."

Perhaps Edward could have forgotten Bela, or at least he could have tried. But it was difficult when he had to see her frequently because of her brother.

Almost every other day he was called to Chandra Mahal to attend to the boy, Chaman. He was improving, but slowly. As he was the apple of his mother's eye, she wanted constant reassurance from Edward. In return he was thanked profusely and offered refreshments, and an envelope full of money was forced into his hands. He tried to refuse it as he worked for a government hospital, but to no avail. He could see how the doctors in Calcutta grew rich!

And of course Bela was there every time he went to see her brother. It was clear that she was very attached to him. The way she took care of Chaman, consoled him and entertained him in turn made Edward feel warm to the core.

If only he could control his heart from wanting her. And if only she was not so curious and full of questions!

On the second day, she introduced herself to him, and asked his name. She kept her face covered and did not look at him directly, but she still told him about her ma and baba and asked about his parents and siblings, and where they lived and what it was like, and how he became a doctor. The old servant found their conversation boring as he could not understand a word of it, but since Chaman was right there between them he thought it had to be all right. And he sat down near the door and rested his eyes.

That gave Edward the opportunity of looking at Bela, sometimes, and once or twice she happened to glance at him quickly, and a thrill ran through him.

He had never liked talking about himself much, but it was different with her. He wanted to share everything with her. He wanted to know everything about her. Her English was far from perfect and sometimes he had to ask her to repeat her words to make sense of them, but that did not stop him from trying.

On his next visit, Bela told him all about her childhood, and Chaman told him about the best places in the house where one could hide during hide-and-seek, and about the trees outside he loved to climb. The servant yawned widely at their chattering and went to sleep.

Bela asked Edward to write the names of his favourite places and why he liked them. When he handed the piece of paper to her, she deliberately let her fingers linger near his, until he gave in and touched them lightly.

Towards the end of the visit, Chaman went to sleep as well. Bela wrote a few words on another piece of paper and gave it to Edward, and took advantage of the lack of witnesses by wrapping her fingers around his long ones.

The surge of pleasure that coursed through her whole body was unexpected, but also addictive. As for Edward, he had to bite his lip to keep himself from making a sound. This woman was going to lead him to his death, he thought.

And he was helpless to stop her. She was a tidal wave that was going to engulf him, and he would not even try to escape her.

Bela did not know where her boldness was coming from, only that she would have only a few more opportunities to meet the beautiful man beside her, and she was not going to waste them.

The next time she told him that she was not looking forward to her husband's visit, whenever that might be, as he was really old. She told him about her dreams—travelling to new places, getting to know more about the world, reading proper books. In return, he gave her a sentence to read.

"I wish I could make your dreams come true."

Most propitiously, Chaman sat up and demanded that the servant take him to the outhouse without a second's delay. They left immediately.

"Bela," Edward whispered in the silence, the word a quiet entreaty.

Gathering her courage in her hands, Bela walked around the bed to stand in front of him. Though her heart raced with fear of someone walking into the room any minute, she could not help herself. This man she had known only for a few days had come to mean so much to her, and she wanted to have a moment with him that she could lock within her heart for ever, something that would give her joy every time she looked back at. With trembling hands, she raised her ghomta and let it fall behind her head, enabling Edward to see her fully for the first time.

Edward felt as if his heart would stop beating. Until then he had seen her face only for a fraction of a second at a time, but now he could take in her beauty and appreciate it in its entirety. Her jet-black hair was tied at the nape in a loose bun, with a few wavy locks having escaped to frame her oval-shaped face. A red bindi adorned her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, adding to her allure, and her eyes remained downcast, long dark lashes fanning out. The bangles on her wrists tinkled as her hands shook with nerves.

"Bela, please look at me."

She looked up then, eyes wide with a sense of wonder at what was between them. Then her hand rose as if pulled by a magnetic force, and she touched his cheek. Edward leaned into her hand, eyes closed as he forgot for a second why he could not have this woman who had turned his life upside down.

Then he remembered and opened his eyes, but he still wanted to tell her.

"I love you with all my heart, Bela. I wish I could take you away from all this."

"Edward, I—I—" She could not express her feelings in words, but the way she looked at him and the way her hand caressed his cheek told him everything. Yes, she felt it too.

Without making a conscious decision, Edward tilted his head slightly and brushed her lips with his, his hand behind her head. Once, twice, and then he felt Bela respond with a soft gasp, and the touch of lips became a kiss.

He kept the pressure light, not wanting to scare her, but he could not stop his hand from caressing her bare back, relishing the softness and warmth of her skin. Bela clutched his shirt and pressed her body to his, feeling almost faint from all the sensations coursing through her, making her forget everything else. His hands seemed to burn her just as his lips burned hers; she didn't want it to end.

Edward groaned and pulled away, conscious of the risk they were taking, and the two of them stared at each other even as their hands remained joined. It took them a minute or two to bring their breathing back to normal, and not too soon, for they heard footsteps approaching.

Quickly Bela righted her sari and covered her face. When Chaman entered the room with the servant in tow, Edward was frowning at something in his black bag and Bela was sitting decorously on her chair, willing her heated body to cool down. As soon as Chaman had assured Edward that he was feeling all right, he told the servant he was leaving.

The final visit was the shortest as the patient had recovered fully and there was no need for Edward to stay, or to come again. Quietly he wished Bela a good life, gave her another piece of paper and left.

"Let me know if I can do anything for you, Bela. I will never forget you."

She hid it among her many saris, knowing they would likely never meet again.

Four months passed. The days became warm and long, and the silk-cotton trees behind the hospital burst into bright red flowers. To Edward the warmth and the beauty didn't hold any meaning. He had no hope of making Bela his, and one day was pretty much like another, full of patients and examinations and diagnoses.

So one day when he found a twelve year-old boy among his patients, holding his tummy and crying out, he could not believe his eyes.

"Chaman? How—what are you doing here?"

"I—have a stomach ache," the boy said, punctuating his words with painful-sounding groans, and the servant with him exclaimed in sympathy. "Send him out. I have—something for you."

Collecting his wits, Edward indicated to the servant that he should wait outside the examination room. When he looked to Chaman for confirmation, the boy nodded and made a shooing motion.

As soon as the servant had left, Chaman sat straight and fished out a piece of paper from his shorts pocket. He handed it to Edward with a serious expression.

"Husband dying. Please help. I not want sati."

He sat down heavily, his face pale with shock and his head reeling with thoughts and questions. Had not Emmett said that the system had been abolished? But he had also said that some people still went ahead with the immolation. Perhaps Bela's father was one of those orthodox people who still believed in the custom. But how could he agree to let his daughter be burnt at the pyre? Didn't he have a heart?

"Do you know…about this?" he asked Chaman, waving the note at him.

The boy's eyes were fearful. "I know my sister has to sit in fire," he whispered with a nervous look at the door.

"I won't let her, I promise. Can you bring her with you tomorrow?"

Chaman shook his head. "She not allowed outside. My mother sent me because I cried for you."

Edward silently thanked the heavens that the boy's mother doted on him enough to not deny him anything he asked for.

"Tell her everything will be all right," he told Chaman. "I will speak with my friend, the Police Superintendent. Tell her not to worry."

What he wanted to do was to rush to Chandra Mahal and to take Bela away. Far, far away. However, the rational part of his brain insisted that he should not do anything rash. Who knew what might happen!

As soon as Chaman left, Edward informed his colleague that he had an urgent matter to attend and rode to the police station. Luckily Emmett was in his office.

One look at Edward convinced him that it was something serious. He dismissed the policeman he was speaking with and shut the door.

"Bela has to be sati with her husband, even though she doesn't want to," said Edward without preamble.

'What? Are you sure? Wait—how do you know this?"

Edward explained as quickly as he could about Chaman visiting him and showed him the note. Emmett became thoughtful.

"But he didn't know when—of course, her husband is still alive, though probably very ill…We will have to keep a watch on Chandra Palace then. And also take notice of any unusual activity on the river bank; these people usually do the cremation before sunrise…"

Edward relaxed minutely. It was a relief to shift his worry to another, very capable set of shoulders. It made him feel less helpless too. On his own, he might or might not have been able to rescue Bela, but with the police on his side he felt much more confident.

Poor Bela, he thought as he paced in his house that evening. How scared she must be! Perhaps her mother was on her side, but what could she do? It must be her father who would take her to the river bank.

Emmett had assured him that they would save not only Bela but all the other wives too, and Edward had faith in him. Still, he could neither eat nor sleep. With the advent of spring the mosquitoes too had made an appearance, so Edward contented himself with walking inside his house until he tired himself out, and then he sat on his bed and fidgeted.

Around three in the morning there was a knock on his door. Emmett stood outside in full uniform. Edward put on his shoes and fetched his horse. To his surprise, he found that Rosalie was following them in a carriage.

"I don't know," Emmett shrugged, "she said she might be of some help there. You know, in convincing the wives in case they insist on immolating themselves. She has learnt enough Bangla that she can talk with them."

When they reached the bank of Ganges River, they found ten or twelve policemen standing to one side, waiting for instructions. A large pyre was being prepared by four men, piling thick pieces of wood so that one layer crossed the other. A priest in a white dhoti and a long tilak on his forehead stood talking to Chandra Madhab Sen, a few men behind him nodding in agreement.

There were other people scattered around, waiting for the 'sacred sacrifice' to begin. To them, it was an honour to be able to witness such an event, believing that they would be blessed by the gods for having participated in it.

The widows of the dead man sat near the pyre, mute and motionless except one who lay on the ground sobbing pitifully. The others just stared into the darkness, seeing nothing, feeling nothing.

Bela, however sat apart from others. She had tried to speak with the women, but had received only wondering looks and monosyllabic answers. It was as if they had been brainwashed into accepting their fate, some of them even proud of themselves for getting the opportunity to be sati.

When she saw Edward and Emmett on their horses, her eyes lit up with hope.

He had come!

Emmett asked Edward to wait with the policemen while he marched to the zamindar and offered his condolences on the demise of his son-in-law. Mister Sen accepted them and thanked him, though he also expressed his surprise at his appearance.

"May I ask why all these women have assembled here, Sir?" Emmett nodded towards the little group sitting on the ground.

"You know the custom, Mr McCarty," answered Mr Sen heavily. "These unfortunate women are the widows of the deceased, and now they must sit on the pyre with the body. These other gentlemen," he waved to the men standing behind him, "are their relatives. They are here to see that everything goes smoothly."

Emmett gave a cool smile. "You asked why I was here, Sir. I am here as a police officer, and I declare that there will be no widow-burning here. As you must know, the custom of being sati was abolished by Lord William Bentick the year before last. It is now illegal and punishable by government. Hence I request you to send these women back to their home with their relatives."

Mr Sen remained unperturbed. "Mr McCarty, I understand you are here on duty. However, this is something you should not interfere in, as you do not understand its significance. You have done your part, now let us do ours."

"On the contrary, Sir," responded Emmett equally calmly, "I understand it very well, having read extensively on the subject when Lord Bentick passed the order. I know that a Hindu widow of the upper class was expected to remain chaste all her life, and later on this custom morphed into the widow sitting on the pyre with her husband. However, it was merely symbolic in many regions and the family members would come forward and request her to live her life fully for the sake of her children and other family members. To actually let the woman burn herself was a distorted form of the custom, and in today's age it is nothing less than barbaric."

He looked at the rest of the men and raised his voice slightly. "Please take your family members and go home. If you persist in forcing them, I will have to arrest all of you. The choice is yours."

Meanwhile Rosalie had approached the women and was trying to make them understand that only God could give and take away one's life, therefore what they were going to do was wrong in every way. When the woman who had been crying asked her what should she live for, Rosalie reasoned with her that her children were still there. Even if one didn't have children, one could find a purpose in life. However, it was a futile exercise. They were simply not ready to listen to her, a couple of them even suspicious why a memsaheb would bother to speak to them.

Giving it up, Rosalie asked for Bela, and she stepped forth willingly. Rosalie took her hand and led her to her father.

The pyre being ready, the dead body was placed upon it. A man who was the eldest son of the deceased, prepared to light the pyre. The priest began to chant the required mantras loudly.

Mister Sen glared at Bela.

"What will I do with her?" he muttered, turning to Emmett. "You don't know what it is like to be a widow in our community and how meaningless their life is, Mr McCarty. She can't marry again, can't participate in any auspicious event in the family—living like this is a curse." His voice rose, his tone harsh. "A woman is nothing without her husband. That is why she must die with him. This is what the society demands!"

Emmett could not believe his ears. "What kind of father are you, Mr Sen? You are ready to let your daughter die a painful death to appease the society? She is a human being, for heaven's sake! She has a right to live, same as you and everybody else does. I will not allow this. Now leave before I arrest you!"

The men behind the zamindar gasped when they heard Emmett. How could he threaten to arrest such a great man? It was beyond their imagination!

As they argued, both of them getting angrier and louder, one of the widows ran forward and tried to throw herself into the pyre. It had been lit, though the flames had not reached the upper part yet. One of the policemen rushed to prevent her from doing so, but she screamed loudly and began to struggle with all her might.

The crowd had been getting restless, hearing the argument between the police superintendent and the big zamindar. Even though the majority of them could not understand what they were saying, it was obvious to them that Emmett was trying to prevent the widows from sacrificing themselves. To them, it was no less than sacrilege. The sight of one of the women struggling to free herself from the policeman so that she could be with her husband forever was all they needed to let loose.

"Sati mayer joy!" shouted someone. He was immediately joined by many more, the chants growing louder as the crowd surged forward. Emmett saw that the situation was getting out of hand and ordered the policemen to fire in the air.

The firing made the people run helter-skelter. The widows who had been sitting patiently became scared and began calling for their relatives. Edward moved towards Bela even as Emmett urged Rosalie to take Bela with her to the carriage. However, before either of them could take her hand Bela stepped back hastily, afraid of being trampled by the crowd.

"Out of my way!" shouted someone as he ran past Bela, pushing her aside. She lost her balance, teetered on the edge of the river and fell into it backward.

"Edward!"

Edward didn't stop to think, just kicked off his shoes and dove into the water after her. Emmett saw Rosalie into the carriage, jumped onto his horse and asked the coachman to follow him along the bank of the river. He knew Edward was a strong swimmer, but he still might need help getting Bela out of the current. Emmett would not let anything happen to his friend and the woman whom he loved, that was sure.

Mr Sen shrugged and went off to his own carriage. As far as he was concerned, his daughter had jumped into the river because she was not allowed to become sati with her husband's dead body. That was the story he was going to tell everyone, and it would be enough to save his face.

Shimla, a year later

Edward entered the kitchen with silent steps, intending to surprise Bela who was humming to herself as she cooked breakfast on the wood stove. He loved her reaction when he suddenly put his arms around her and kissed her neck. Or when he tickled her while she was making the bed in the morning. Or when he…

He loved everything about his wife, come to think of it.

How the past year had flown!

He still remembered the coldness of water as he had swam after Bela while dawn broke over the horizon, praying to God that he would be able to save her. As soon as they were out of water, he had turned her on her stomach and got the water she had swallowed out. After some coughing and spluttering, she had opened her eyes and looked at him.

And he saw his whole future in those eyes, a shared future.

Emmett and Rosalie had been a great help. They had put Bela in their guest bedroom until she and Edward could get married, and Rosalie had looked after her really well. She had arranged clothes and other basic necessities for Bela, since she had nothing of her own. She had listened to Bela when she needed a sympathetic ear, and advised her when she had asked for it.

Best of all, she had somehow managed to let Bela's mother know that her daughter was alive and well. For Bela that was a great relief as her mother had been devastated when it was decided that Bela would be sati with her husband.

They had been married at St John's Church in a small ceremony, with Emmett and Rosalie as witnesses. Bela had asked Rosalie about the wedding earlier and learnt her vows so she would not make a mistake. Hearing her speak them in her sweet voice, Edward knew he was truly the happiest man alive. And when the priest declared them husband and wife, he was filled with sweet relief. Bela belonged to him, and he to her, and nobody could change that.

The memory of their first night together always brought a smile to Edward's lips. He had expected Bela to be shy about letting him see her unclothed, which she was, so he had agreed to extinguish the lamp in the room. Luckily she was not as bashful about letting him kiss and touch her, probably because she already had had a taste of that and liked it very much. Even though Edward was by no means an expert in making love, he knew enough to give them a good beginning. More importantly, he loved her and wanted to make her happy in every way, and Bela trusted him enough to let him. Once she was more comfortable with her body, she became curious about his, becoming his partner in the discovery of mutual pleasure. Edward felt as if he had reached heaven.

Emmett suggested that they move to Shimla, deeming it a better place for him and Bela. It was far away from Calcutta, so there would be no curious eyes, nothing to explain or fear. They would have complete freedom, a completely new life. It would not be easy, but it would be worth it.

It proved to be a good move. Edward established himself quickly in the small town that was growing rapidly and becoming a favourite of Europeans due to its moderate summers and scenic location. He was sure that its growth would continue unhindered in the future as well.

Rosalie had introduced Bela to the blouse, and Bela took to wearing it with sari when they had to go out for grocery shopping or visiting, or just ambling on the Mall Road. However, when they were home and not expecting company, she preferred to wear her sari as she used to before, at least during the summer. As Edward found it of great advantage to him, he did not comment on it.

And that was how he found her in the kitchen, her bare shoulder and partially uncovered back tantalising him. As was her habit, she had taken her morning bath and was busy at the stove making porridge. The way her body swayed gently while she hummed a song almost made Edward forget his purpose for a moment. Then he smiled and stepped closer, and embraced her from behind.

Bela jumped a little but then returned his smile and continued stirring the porridge. Edward thought her smile held a special contentment that morning.

"My love, do you remember what is today?" he asked, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

Bela removed the porridge and put a kettle full of water on the stove. Then she turned to him, face flushed with the heat of the stove. Her forehead wrinkled with thought. "What is it?"

"It is the day when you came into my life again, when I knew that nobody would take you from me because you were free to marry me."

"The day you saved my life—twice," nodded Bela, remembering.

Edward sighed. "The only regret I had that day was I would not be able to give you the life you were used to as the daughter of a zamindar—no mahal to live in, no fine clothes to wear…Indeed, life has been hard for you since we moved here."

Bela placed her hand on his mouth. "What did being the daughter of a zamindar give me, Edward? Either I would have spent my life at my father's house, seeing my husband once every few years or I would have died with him. You have given me a new life, one I love. I will forever be grateful to you!"

Edward kissed her palm tenderly. "And I am grateful to you for completing my life. However, I have been wanting to give something to you, and today is the perfect day for it. Turn around, please."

He took out a slender box from the inner pocket of his loose shirt and opened it. It held a gold necklace, not heavy but very pretty, and placed it around Bela's throat. Bela saw its reflection in the kettle and gasped.

"Oh Edward, this is beautiful! Thank you!" She touched it reverently. "When did you—"

'I ordered it from Delhi last month. It arrived two days ago." Edward turned her so he could see his gift on her. "This is the first time I have bought something pretty for you, my wife. I am glad that you like my little surprise."

Bela smiled shyly. "Well, I have a surprise for you too. I hope it will make you happy."

"You do?" Edward's brow wrinkled, wondering how she could have got something for him without him knowing. "What is it?"

Bela took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "You are going to be a father," she whispered.

"Really?" he whispered back, awe written on his face.

"Really."

Edward picked her up and kissed her, his heart bursting with happiness. "Oh Bela, Bela, my love, my life. Thank you Lord, thank you!"

The kettle whistled cheerfully.

Footnote:

Zamindar: Landlord of several villages in Colonial India

Chandra: Moon

Madhab: A name of Krishna

Radha: Krishna's love

Rani: Queen (Used as part of a name for Indian women)

Bela: Jasmine flower

Mohini: One who charms or enchants

Ghomta: Part of sari pulled over one's face

Sati mayer joy: Praise for the pure woman

Chaman: Garden

Gora saheb: Literally, a man with fair skin, a Caucasian. In colonial India, it usually meant a British man

Memsaheb: British or Caucasian woman