This is a work of fiction. It discusses strong topics such as interracial sex, non-consent, etc. If such topics are not to your liking then you can stop reading any further.
Otherwise enjoy! I would love to have some feedback. As this will be a series with multiple chapters I would like my readers to join me and construct future editions. You can leave a comment or reach me at my mail address.
I first set foot in the enchanted land of India in the year 1900. As the world stood at the dawn of a new century, I arrived in Calcutta as a married lady. My husband: Edward Owen was now a civil servant having marched through the Indian Civil Service examinations with flying colours. Edward and I had been married two months when he was assigned to take charge over a district the size of London in the Indian state of United Provinces.
I must admit, I knew very little of India before stepping foot in it. My mother in one of her tea gatherings had stated that all of India was a hot, boiling piece of desert land with little vegetation and inhabited by heathens who prayed to multiple gods. But essential information did reach me in the form of letters, sent to me by my dear cousin Winston. He was posted as a military cadet and would constantly write to me describing his surroundings and how different India actually was from what my mother described.
Winston also told me how it had changed him. To my horror, India had a profound effect on his faith. He once wrote to me,
'Religion is a delicious narcotic', he thought and even professed to accept Protestantism as he found it 'closer to reason'. I, as an obedient Roman Catholic abhorred this idea and was worried, thinking he might stray away from God entirely. Oh how many letters I wrote trying to sway his faculties to return home both figuratively and literally. Sadly, that would not be convincing enough.
After we set foot in Calcutta, we took a tiring journey to Oudh (Lucknow precisely) from where we took a carriage to Jamnagariya: our place of residence. I remember, distinctly, the clamour in the bazaar. Street vendors offering fruit, furniture and other finished goods. There was a horse salesman who shouted as our carriage rolled by, possibly because his ware could only be afforded by the rich. A great line of shops catering to selling colorful cloth. I mistook a saree for a table cloth only to be made fun of by Edward as he knew more of the culture than I did.
We rolled by the bazaar and the next scenery was of the farmlands. For as far as the eye could see there was nothing but green pastures, occasionally I spotted a hut or two in the middle. Farmers ploughing their fields in the scorching heat. It was largely peaceful. The only other noise apart from our carriage was being made by the crickets which I would learn later, were in healthy abundance. It was definitely the opposite of London which was a deep well of constant pandemonium and mayhem.
We would reach our place of residence at five in the eve'. The sun was about to set and even in the month of October, it was stiflingly hot. The heat was truly unbearable and I was stupid enough to wear a black plaid dress with a scarf around my poor neck. I felt suffocated so as soon as I stepped out of the carriage, I ran inside the bungalow.
While my husband stood outside laughing his guts out, I had made my way inside onto the porch. Immediately I saw three women approach me, one holding what looked like a glass of water, the other two on either side of her holding a copper jug and a hand fan respectively. I gulped down the contents in the glass without even noticing what it was. The after taste was both sweet and salty. I turned to the woman and asked,
"What is this?"
"Nimboo-pani", she replied plainly. The middle-aged lady draped in a violet saree had a look of maturity and command. Her forehead was wrinkled and her posture made her look respectable. So I axiomatically inquired,
"Are you the governess?"
"Yes memsahib. I deal with the day-to-day workings in this house." She replied, this time with more passion. Probably my inquiry had acted as a catalyst to her pride. Her laconic replies increased my curiosity but I didn't question her any further.
The lady on her left offered more from the jug, I denied.
"I'm well, thank you." This woman holding the jug was breathtakingly beautiful. Her exotic skin tone coupled with her feline eyes gave her the look of a celestial maiden, exactly like I imagined a Hindu goddess would look like. Her long wavy hair was set free and therefore, they would sway slightly with a gush of wind. I felt myself to be inadequate immediately and a feminine jealousy arose in me. She smiled and instinctively, I did not return it back. 'Be careful with this one', I thought to myself. Only if I knew what trouble she would be to me, I would've banished her at that very moment. But I was a fool for not sensing the obvious. They say a woman's instinct does not ever fail her and yet it has.
After reawakening my faculties I looked around me. Edward had busied himself with luggage and I found time to tour my new home with the governess whose name was Padmini.
The bungalow was surrounded on all four sides by gardens. There was even a small pond on the northern section of the garden. The house itself was massive, almost thrice the size of my family palace in Yorkshire. It had twelve bedrooms with attached bathrooms, three dining rooms, a large kitchen with a chimney, a large drawing room, four powder rooms and a large attic where the servants resided.
"I told you Marge, we'll live like the Royals here." Said my husband while walking past me. He knew that I was mesmerised by the surroundings. It truly was a palace and not just a bungalow.
My first night was tumultuous. Dark clouds had engulfed the entire night sky and the wind was howling wildly. I could not sleep and while my husband was in his bedroom, I lay, staring at my ceiling and the chandelier that dangled from the ceiling, almost floating. I thought of picking up a book but was too lazy to act upon my thoughts. The loud thunder would've made it impossible anyways.
