The Trilogy of Savitri's Garden: Rebellion and Reunion (Book3)

SAVITRI’S GARDEN

Rebellion and Reunion

BOOK 3

A Story

The Trilogy of Savitri’s Garden

Book 3: Rebellion and Reunion

Copyright 2000 to 2016 by Fisal Ally

Edited by Fisal Ally

A Story

References to real persons, places, and private and government organizations are meant to provide a sense of realism. While certain historical occurrences are reflected in the book, all the other characters, dialogues, and fictitious events were created through the author’s imagination.

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SECOND EDITION - Published on April 20, 2016

May 5, 2016 Edition (Revision 2.1)

May 23, 2016 Edition (Revision 2.1.1)

ISBN 978-1-988288-20-8 / ISBN (eBook) 978-1-988288-19-2

Smashwords Edition (1.1) - May 23, 2016

Minor changes made on August 9, 2016

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August 3, 2016, August 9, 2016 Smashwords Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-988288-32-1

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PROLOGUE

Georgetown, Demerara, British Guiana, South America - April 7, 1844

THE ATLANTIC OCEAN HAD RECEDED AND THE CRICKET players were playing a game of cricket, as the intermingling scents of the tropical cuisines immersed the air in the Lighthouse Diner. From the portico, Mr. Russell and Frederick Smith of Plantation Bellevue were taking in the ocean view, while engaged in a business meeting. The batsman hit the ball up into the azure sky, as the harpist played and the waiter served the customers.

The ball is going to land in the ocean! a lad’s voice rose.

It sure looks that way, his mother replied.

Six runs! a customer exclaimed, as the runners ran to the other side of the wickets. A fieldsman caught the ball and the atmosphere in the diner became lively again.

It’s a good match, Mr. Russell said. It looked like six runs but it was only two.

I missed the play, my eyes have been on the horizon, Frederick replied.

On the horizon?

I want to see those ships from India rising.

It shall happen soon. We’ve already received news from London.

Not until I see those ships on the horizon that I will know for sure.

Anything rising on the horizon is sure to happen soon. For one, we do know that the ban on emigration from India will be lifted, and that ships sailing from India shall be in the Americas once again with thousands of laborers. The colony shall blossom in every way—nothing to hold us back. We must remain positive.

That ban has caused me nothing but bad luck, Frederick said. Nothing but bad luck!

The ban was bad for everyone in this colony, the attorney of Plantation Bellevue, Mr. Mathews, said as he walked up to the table and greeted them.

Not for us, the waiter, Rudy said, as he passed by. There’s no chance of banning curry from this colony now. Curry is here to stay.

They agreed shaking their heads and laughed.

It certainly is, Mr. Mathews replied.

It’s addictive. It’s a popular item on the menu, Rudy said. Gentlemen, enjoy your meals. He continued on.

Gentlemen as you know, Guiana cannot survive without the hill-coolies, Mr. Mathews reminded them. Frederick, what are your future plans now that the coolies shall once again be arriving in this colony?

Having heard the news, my brother, Westley, has already contacted Mr. Dowson for a thousand hill-coolies, but I still do not want to get my hopes up as yet, as I’ve done before and nothing had materialized. He glanced around and said, I didn’t think this ban would ever come to an end, and I still do not believe it, not until I see those ships from India rising on the horizon.

The first batch of Indian laborers that arrived back on May 5, 1838 on the Whitby and Hesperus had recently completed their five-year contract and had left for India in November 1843 on two ships. Some of the Indians had remained in the colony to work on another five-year contract.

Mr. Mathews’ eyes steadied on the horizon. We’re soon to find out when the first ship shall arrive, since the July 11, 1838 ban. The Government of India has placed many conditions on emigration to make sure we have learned our lessons from the first ban.

Lessons? Frederick asked.

Mr. Mathews cleared his throat. We must admit that many of the coolies that were in this colony died from the harsh working conditions—

Rudy passed by. Coolies? You mean Indians of various classes.

That’s correct Rudy, Mr. Mathews replied. Indians of various classes is correct. I do remember Sheriff Whinfield’s report stating that there was not even one hill-coolie in this colony.

Various flavors from across India are now popular in this colony, Rudy said.

And you do have a few Indian dishes on the menu, Mr. Russell said.

Rudy smiled. And many more to come, now that I’ve heard that India shall once again be seen rising on the horizon from the Lighthouse Diner. Gentlemen, please enjoy your meals and the view.

We shall Rudy, Mr. Mathews replied. As I was saying, the Government of India expects to see changes. They shall only meet our requests if we’ve learned our lessons.

Lessons well learned, Mr. Russell said.

Frederick swallowed, a guilty look on his face. I agree. Lessons well learned. I’ve put my expansion plans on hold for the past seven years because of the emigration ban from India. I don’t want to get my hopes up. Not yet. He nodded. But lessons well learned. If this ban is lifted, my expansion across Guiana and the Caribbean shall be grand.

Everyone agreed that the colony will not only continue to grow, but also laborers from across the world could prosper and build a good life for themselves and their families.

The batsman sent the ball flying through the air above the Atlantic Ocean for six runs, as the intermingling scents and harp music intoxicate the customers.

Chapter 1 - Working on the docks

North Atlantic Ocean - November 25, 1844

A DOCKWORKER WAS STRUGGLING TO LOAD a fifty-pound bag of sugar. Kalil Ansari pivoted and grabbed one end of the bag and helped load it on the ship. The worker thanked him and without hesitating, Kalil began to help out, fetching bags of sugar from the dock and onto the ship, not expecting anything in return. He was finally on his way home; he just wanted to keep himself busy and he continued to help out in the same way he had carried out his ship duties on the Whitby back in 1838; this time he was a passenger on the ship and not a laborer. Nobody stopped him, nor wondered why he was on a ship packed with mainly Europeans; to them he was just another dockworker or an island worker.

The ship was loaded and Kalil was drenched in sweat glancing around as the Europeans engaged in their conversation. As the ship sailed out from the Port of Georgetown in Demerara heading towards the Caribbean, his eyes became fixed on a vendor on the ship. He was thirsty and had a craving for a cold mauby, but decided that it would be best to save the little savings he had for his family back in India. He hurried down to the ‘tween deck to a section partitioned off for him and some of the other passengers that were not Europeans. He quickly cleaned up and changed into some clean clothes.

Kalil had stayed back working in British Guiana for a year on a signed contract, spending some time with Savitri who had decided to remain working in the colony. The plantation supervisors were desperate for laborers and were grateful that Kalil had remained for another year, yet they showed no thanks. Kalil later found out that since he had not returned to India upon the completion of his five-year-contract that no return passage was included for the extra year he had stayed back working. There were no ships going directly to India, since the returning Indians had already departed in 1843, and the only way back was via London. He had purchased a ticket to London, and from there he would board another ship bound for India. The Europeans on the ship didn’t notice him and treated him as if he didn’t exit. It didn’t bother him; he had already faced many abuses and discrimination in British Guiana. He had bigger battles to face than to worry about what other people’s hearts were filled with.

He pulled off his sweaty shirt and opened his backpack. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face. He reached into his bag again. He hesitated when he saw another handkerchief, light green in color that did not belong to him. He pondered for a moment. He opened it and saw some money.

How was it possible? he wondered. Savitri, he whispered. His eyes became fixed on a note. He opened the note and read:

Yours always,

Love Savitri

He was on his knees. His heart fluttered. Why did you do this? he said, worried, knowing the money was the equivalent to a year’s labor. He clenched his teeth and his jaw muscles tightened. He became angry. He glanced around. He wanted to dash up the stairs and plunged into the ocean, like Sarwan did in 1838 when he had plunged into the Bay of Bengal, escaping from being taken way to Mauritius. With a burst of desires, Kalil wanted to swim back to the shores of Demerara; his thoughts were restless. How did she get into my bag when I was right there? he wondered. She tricked me, he whispered. She’s a real decoy, he said in a muffled voice, with his eyes fixed on the money. Dis decoy tricked mi twice! A laugh escaped him. He held his breath and laughed again, and for a moment all of his troubles had faded. I had to fall in love with a decoy—a very pretty one, too, he said in his native tongue, talking to himself. He pulled on his shirt and headed for the stairs leading to the main deck. She tried to trick me into boarding the wagon at the Maya bazaar, he whispered. He laughed again and said to himself, This will go down in history—this must be the first time ever that a pretty decoy must have tricked someone into taking her money. He was elated. He laughed, lost in his own world of happiness.

You said something? a British man asked as he passed by.

Nah, nah.

People will think you’re mad if you keep talking to yourself, especially since you have a dark tan like an Indian, the man said just getting a glimpse of Kalil, not realizing that Kalil was an Indian. He thought that Kalil was Portuguese with a deep tan from toiling in the fields for years. The man continued on as Kalil read the note again:

Yours always,

Love Savitri

A wide smile emerged on his face and all of his sadness of leaving Demerara behind dissipated, knowing that Savitri had not forgotten him, and that the money was a token of her love for him. He would have never taken her savings. But he felt loved. Mi in love wid a decoy—a beautiful decoy loves mi, he said, not conscious of his excitement. He didn’t realize that people were looking at him. A beautiful decoy loves mi.

You talking to me? a British lady asked as she passed by.

Nah, nah.

Love is a good thing, she said and continued on with a smile.

Yeh. Love is everyting.

She glanced back at him and smiled.

A British band began to play. Kalil was happy and he wanted to celebrate his love for Savitri and her love for him, and without giving it another thought, he placed the money in his pocket and hurried around the corridor and over to the vendor. Gi mi di biggest cold mauby drink.

Zee biggest? Grande, grande.

Yeh, mi celebratin.

The French vendor smiled and poured him an extra large mauby. Cheers, he said and added another piece of ice in his mauby, and handed it to Kalil.

Kalil raised his beverage in the same way they raised their sherbert drinks back home during their wedding celebrations. He smiled and drank, quenching his thirst. Ahhhhhhhh! Man, dis feel good, he said, exchanging smiles with the vendor. He knew that Savitri wouldn’t have wanted him to deprive himself from a nice cold drink, especially after slugging away in the sugarcane fields of Plantation Bellevue for over six years. He relished the drink and saw it as a treat from her. He knew that she would want him to enjoy his time, and as the music from the British band filled the air, he relaxed his body and drank his mauby glancing around at the people as they enjoyed themselves under the blue sunny sky.

A FEW HOURS LATER, AT SUNSET, Kalil WAS SITTING out on the main deck eating the provisions, which the ex-slave, Jamal, and his family had packed for his journey. After dinner, he headed down to the ‘tween deck and through a dark passageway lit by a dim kerosene lamp, and entered the section that was partitioned off for him and some of the other men. He lay down on his cot, and shortly after he fell asleep and slept like a log as the ship rocked gently, back and forth, traversing the sea. A day later, when the ship stopped at Port of Spain in Trinidad, he helped out on the dock.

The following morning, Kalil stood at the railing as the sparkling blue Caribbean Sea gleamed back at him. He turned and his eyes steadied on a female in a long white dress and a bonnet with blond curls dangling down to her shoulders. She was engaged in a discussion with two British men. What a surprise, Kalil whispered. He didn’t hesitate. He hurried over to get a closer look at the lady, wanting to be certain that the person he was looking at was Maryanne Cooper, one of the British females who were on the Whitby with him back in 1838. He walked towards her, studying her face.

Excuse mi, please. I no mean to interrupt y’all. At the sound of his voice, the woman turned towards him with a beaming smile. Uncertainty clouded her face, but she was delighted that he had walked up to her. Yuh rememba mi?

You have a knowing face, she said, extending her right hand to greet him.

They shook hands.

Mi name Kalil.

Well of course, but—

From di Whitby in 1838.

I am so glad to see you, Kalil Ansari, Maryanne said with surprise. Her face burst into a big smile. I am Maryanne—Maryanne Cooper. In her diaries, she had records of Savitri, Kalil, Vishnu, Harri, Chickoo, Ashmid, Lukeah, Sudha, Nandi, Betty, Satya, Gabriel Francis, Nertha Khan, Janhair Sing and many of the other indentured Indians that were traveling on the Whitby in 1838 to Guiana. She also had a sketch with her and her husband, Solomon, amongst the Jahajis and Jahajins while they were dancing near the railing after the ship had left St. Helena Island. On the back of the sketch, Vishnu had written their names in Hindustani. She was fluent in Hindustani from the years she had lived in India.

Mi know yuh is Maryanne—Anne.

And how are you, Kalil Ansari? I am so happy to see you.

"Mi is aright. Savitri always talk bout yuh. Yuh was good to Savitri and all di gals and di pickneys children back on di Whitby. Savitri neva fuhget yuh. Maryanne was surprised to hear Savitri’s name and her smile grew broad. She reflected back on the painting, which Vishnu had presented to her back on the Whitby. And I have not forgotten Savitri, nor you and the others. I do remember you and Savitri, very well."

A European man passing by glanced at Kalil with a forbidding look on his face, seeing that Maryanne was engaged in a conversation with an Indian. The friendly woman flashed the man an uneasy stare, as if to say mind your own business; she returned her full attention to Kalil.

He was surprised that Maryanne had remembered him, and that she was so kind to him. She and Solomon were exploring the Caribbean, looking for a vacation home.

She turned to Solomon. Do you remember Savitri—Savitri Ramdas?

Solomon stopped in mid sentence, taking his attention away from his friend. Who?

Savitri. Oh Solomon how could you forget? Savitri is the girl that was on the ship back in 1838—you know the beautiful Indian girl with the long silky hair. The girl in the sketch.

Yes, of course. How could I forget? He glanced at Kalil and back to his wife. Yes. I know who you mean—the girl you had given chicken to on the Whitby.

A laugh escaped Kalil. Yeh, yeh, dat is di gal.

And she loved the chicken, didn’t she? Maryanne said.

Di chicken bring she back to life, Kalil said. And today she is as beautiful as eva.

I am so delighted to hear that, Maryanne said and glanced at the other Englishman named, Lane, and back to her husband. This is Kalil—Kalil Ansari.

Kalil extended his hand to greet Solomon and they shook hands. He then extended his hand to Lane, a plantation owner in Trinidad, and Lane turned away and carried on his conversation with Solomon. Solomon and his wife exchanged glances, both of them taken back by Lane’s negative attitude.

Maryanne continued, I met Kalil and Savitri on the Whitby which departed from the Port of Kolkata on January 13, 1838 and arrived in British Guiana on May 5th of that year. The Hesperus had also departed from the Port of Kolkata on January 29 with Indian laborers and had also arrived in Guiana on May 5th, later that day. A total of four hundred and nineteen laborers from India had landed on the mainland of South America to work in the Guiana sugarcane fields.

So I’ve heard, Lane replied without acknowledging Kalil. That’s now history.

Many shall learn about the Indian laborers and how they have contributed to the development of the New World, Maryanne commented.

Solomon smiled. Dear, you never fail to surprise me, remembering the details and the facts.

Lane shrugged his shoulders. It was not such a good idea for Gladstone to have these foreigners in the New World, Lane commented as though Kalil didn’t exit.

And may I remind you, that we are all foreigners to this land, Maryanne said. One day you’ll be begging for Indian laborers to cultivate your sugar plantation.

Maybe. Lane put on a smile, realizing that he could use a shipload of laborers from India. He cleared his throat and said, Excuse me, I have a few things to do. He departed without acknowledging Kalil. Kalil didn’t let Lane’s arrogance upset him. Solomon also had to take care of a few things and left.

Kalil smiled triumphantly and said, I is finally goin home, Anne.

Anne?

Oh mi sorry—Maryanne. Savitri’s baby gal name Anne.

Anne?

She name she baby after yuh and she Ma, Annapoorna.

I am so honored. I am delighted to hear that. And should I assume that Savitri had met up with the Hindu boy whom she had spoken of so much, and Anne is their child.

For a moment, Kalil reflected back on when Savitri had told him that she thought she had kissed a Hindu boy under the starry sky back on the Whitby. Kalil laughed. He couldn’t hold back. Maryanne laughed with him. He laughed again, remembering how his and Savitri’s lips had met when the ship had rocked. He did not want to get into the details on how the boy whom Savitri had kissed on the ship was actually him and not a Hindu boy.

Maryanne laughed again, unsure of why he was laughing. Memories to cherish.

He smiled. Love has no religion, he said. She smiled at the thought not knowing what he meant. He continued, Someday you’ll understand, maybe sometime soon you’ll realize, that love has no color.

I like that, she said with a smile. That makes you a poet, and your friend Vishnu an artist. He agreed with a nod and a smile.

Maryanne enquired about Savitri’s, but Kalil didn’t reveal anything about Anne’s biological father; she continued to believe that the baby’s father was the Hindu boy whom Savitri had talked about on the ship.

Kalil didn’t waste any time inquiring about volunteering on the ship; he was already experienced from his ship duties during his journey back in 1838.

How could I forget that you and Vishnu had helped save Roger’s life. Let me see what I can do. She told him that she would discuss his request with her husband who knew the Captain of the ship very well. Kalil was pleased with his encounter with Maryanne, and shortly after he headed back to the ‘tween deck.

In their cabin, Maryanne pulled out her notepad and jotted down some of Kalil’s words:

Love has no religion

Someday you’ll understand why love has no religion

And sometime soon, you’ll see that love has no color

THE SHIP WAS ON ITS WAY TO BARBADOS. MARYANNE stood at the open window in their cabin, admiring the view of the exotic Caribbean Sea, while having a discussion with her husband about Kalil.

If he wants to help out on the ship, I’m sure the Captain will be delighted—

With pay—

He’s not hired hand, so I doubt whether the Captain would pay him. I do not believe the hired workers will approve.

Maryanne shrugged her shoulders. Solomon, he works very hard. Even you had admired Kalil for his bravery back on the ship, especially for helping to save Roger’s life. He even volunteered his time during the stop in Port of Spain and at the Port of Georgetown, not expecting anything in return.

Solomon’s face became flushed. It’s not my ship. It’s not my call.

Maryanne clasped her fingers with reddened face. She sat down at the small table and opened her notebook and began to write.

What are you writing?

She ignored her husband. He walked over to her and took her notebook and started to read. He tore out the page. Don’t you ever write anything about me without my permission! He got up and left their cabin.

Maryanne walked over to the door, and watched as her husband headed towards the Captain’s cabin. She smiled. If anybody could get through to the Captain, my husband can, she thought.

THE FOLLOWING DAY, KALIL WAS LEANING ON THE railing looking out at sea when Maryanne approached him and greeted him. He was happy to see her, and he jumped for joy when she told him about the Captain’s offer; he couldn’t thank her enough. The Captain had agreed to pay him for the hours he had already spent working on the dock of Port of Spain and in Georgetown. And when she told him that the Captain had decided to reimburse him for his passage to London, he was ecstatic.

Good news come to those who are patient and continues to do good work, she said. She then told him that the Captain wants to discuss with him an offer to work during all the stops in the Caribbean, and that he will be paid the same as the European and other laborers, and in dollars.

In dollars, not in the rupees? he queried.

In dollars, she answered

He became emotional hearing the news. Just the thought of being paid in dollars, and the amount of money he’d be returning home with made him feel triumphant. He couldn’t believe that he would be paid the same as a European for working on the ship and on the docks. For a moment, he closed his eyes as the breeze ruffled his hair and caressed his face, as the ship plunged through the sea towards Barbados.

He opened his eyes and smiled. Mi jus can’t believe dis good news bout mekin nuff nuff money fuh mi family back home.

You deserve it my friend. You have surely earned it. And your family shall be very proud of you. The road is never smooth for the ones who succeed at their dreams—there are many hills and mountains to climb.

He shook his head. Yuh know when mi was in Demerara, home was always on mi mind. Now mi goin home, Demerara is on mi mind.

Guiana is a lovely place, Maryanne replied. She went on to say that she had spent two months in Trinidad giving lectures on Indian immigration in the Americas and the importance of the Indian indentured laborers in the developing New World. She also informed him on her recent visit to Guiana for a week where she had stayed with Elizabeth at their ocean view home, and when she had enquired about Savitri, Elizabeth had told her that Savitri had requested a transfer to Plantation Summerville for a better opportunity.

Upon hearing those words, Kalil felt a burning pang in his stomach, but he remained silent. He didn’t want to upset Maryanne with the truth of what had actually happened to Savitri, and who the real father of the baby was. He remained quiet as he sank into helplessness, feeling he had failed Savitri for not rescuing her in time from Henry Davis.

Maryanne switched to Hindustani. You seemed lost—distant.

The garden is on my mind, he replied in Hindustani and she continued in Hindustani.

Garden?

Savitri’s Garden.

A garden named after Savitri?

Kalil’s started to laugh freely. Even Savitri was surprise when I referred to the garden as Savitri’s Garden.

It’s the perfect name for a garden. I could already picture the garden. I could smell its fragrance. Her smile broadened. Did you and Savitri meet on the Whitby or did you know her from before? Maryanne asked.

Kalil smiled. She was a decoy.

A decoy? she asked with excitement. What do you mean?

Savitri was a decoy working at the Maya bazaar in Awadh?

But I cannot imagine Savitri being a decoy. I wish I had a story to tell about my dull boring life, Maryanne said. She pulled out her notepad and wrote:

The beautiful female turned out to be a decoy for the duffadar recruiter at the Maya bazaar in Awadh.

A questioning expression emerged on her face. Then if the garden is on Plantation Bellevue and she had asked for a transfer to Plantation Summerville for a better opportunity, then how did she work on the garden?

Kalil laughed a little. I kept Savitri’s dreams alive while she was gone. You remember that one marigold plant?

How could I forget? And when I gave Savitri the chicken on the ship, I also brought water for the dying plant.

Her garden bloomed from that one marigold plant.

Oh my God, what a miracle, Maryanne said.

I added cobblestones and seashells which I collected from the ocean coast. And I refurbished some old benches, which I found in the garbage. I stripped off the old varnish and added new fresh varnish, and placed them in the garden.

Maryanne looked at Kalil and said, This is all real, isn’t it?

It certainly isn’t a dream.

They exchanged laughter.

I thought that a story like this only happens in fiction and fantasies. She paused and took a deep breath. She released and said, I must see this garden. Her face lit up. "Tell me more.

"She used to work for a duffadar