Page 35 of In Just a Year
At first, he couldn’t see where the voice had come from but when she shrieked again, he spotted her in a corner behind a column. Disheveled and distressed, she wore traditional Indian silks and clutched a bast basket with a woven lid to her stomach.
“This is mine,” she cried. “Let me go!”
As Ben darted toward her, he saw a male servant in a uniform that, like the palace architecture, incorporated elements of both British and Indian styles. Thekurta, long tunic, and loose trousers resembled traditional Indian attire but the saffron-yellow waistcoat and a white band collar were common in British fashion.
“What’s going on here?” Ben asked.
“She’s carrying a snake. No snakes allowed at the Palace,” the servant said through his shiny black beard.
Ben’s gaze fell to the basket, and the girl frowned, clutching the basket more tightly and pressing the lid down with her palm. The whites of her heavily lined eyes contrasted with the dark of her irises so strongly that Ben had to look twice.
“This is mine and I don’t need to tell you what’s in mydholak.” Basket. Her tone hinted at superiority and a tinge of arrogance.
“You can’t charm the snake at the palace, this is not the bazaar—”
Before the man could tear the basket from the girl’s grasp, Ben intercepted his arm and squeezed his wrist. “If this belongs to the lady, you mustn’t take it away.”
“You have no command over me, Jew,” the servant hissed.
“As a British citizen on British grounds, I do.” Ben didn’t like saying it, but the palace was a government house, thus on English soil and under the jurisdiction of the British colonial administration in India. Greg had said Ben would be safe here but Ben worried that the Islamic guards bristled against keeping a Jew safe, regardless of whether he was British or not.
“I’m here in service of the Crown,” Ben lied, which he liked even less.
The bearded servant bowed. “As you wish. But if the snake bites you, it’s not because I didn’t warn you.” He turned and left.
The girl followed him with her dark-rimmed eyes until his footsteps faded into the indiscernible noises from the courtyard.
Ben observed her with the sinking feeling that her bite was more poisonous than any snake’s. She was a little shorter than him, probably as tall as Esther and the same age. Her long black hair reminded him of Esther; her eyes were as fiercely intelligent and dark, her skin darker. She smelled flowery and her left shoulder and belly button were exposed under her lavishly draped sari. It reminded Ben of the silky nightgown he’d found Esther in when he’d climbed to her room. It seemed so long ago that his insides had churned with longing.
“Thank you.” The young woman kept her gaze down as she reached for the basket.
Ben handed it to her, holding the lid firmly down, but just before his hand left the lid, it moved. A tiny wrinkled furry hand reached out.
“Shhh!” The girl lifted the basket to her face and spoke to it. “I’m too far from my chambers, stay hidden.”
A squeak came from the basket.
“Please!” she whispered with a mischievous look. Her demeanor changed to become less authoritative and much friendlier to the creature in the basket.
“Who’s in there?” Ben asked. With all his brothers, he recognized when someone was smuggling a pet into the house. And this was no snake.
The girl clutched the basket and looked to her left, then her right. They were alone in the hall although servants were probably within earshot.
“My room’s right here.” Ben walked to his door and held it open for her.
She paused, looked over her shoulder, then clutched the basket and went in.
As soon as Ben shut the door, the girl dropped her loosely wound shawl and shook her hair out. The basket’s lid sprung open and a tiny head peeked out. A wrinkled but child-like face with large round button eyes stared at Ben and squealed. A little monkey. Another little hand emerged and tugged at the ears of the first one.
Ben stepped closer, for he’d never seen such adorable little creatures before. “You hid monkeys in a snake basket?”
With a hop, the first monkey jumped out of the basket and climbed up Ben’s arm and perched on his shoulder. Ben couldn’t hide his astonishment but chuckled at the playful little animals. The monkey’s long tail curled up at the tip and tickled Ben behind his ear, making him burst into laughter.
“Don’t laugh at me!” The girl frowned. “I’m Thakurain Padmavati bint Ravi,” she said with a haughty tone, obviously trying to impress Ben. Her flawless English had a British lilt, only she had a softer intonation and slurred her words melodically.
“Your name is Thakur?” Ben asked.
She chuckled and shook her head. “My father is the Thakur. It’s not a name, it’s a title.” She spoke like a friendly, patient governess.
