A Book In A Month - Chapter 25

The little group of travellers checked through the considerable pile of hotel registers. They were looking for evidence of Simons visits. The dates had been supplied by the tobacco company, and those dates and the registers should tally. Over and over again Simon was present at the hotel, as expected; and so was another person. Her name was Mrs Mary Simpson, she shared a room with her husband, Simon Simpson.

“That can't be right. He was married to my grand mother.” Clara was exasperated. Simon had a lover and the records showed that they were regulars at the hotel for several years. Then they stopped. Simons work record had him visiting the area up until 1946. After that he no longer returned to Dhaka.

Keith explained that the change in routine probably had something to do with partition, the time when India and Pakistan became separate nations. It was a time of massive upheaval, that saw mass migration of people along religious grounds. It made sense that as these changes fell into place, Simon would stop going to Dhaka as it had been placed into the brand new country of Pakistan.

“Dhaka was in Pakistan?” Jane queried, “We;re not in Pakistan now though, are we?”

“We're in India, kind of. Dhaka removed itself from Pakistan in a bloody uprising. It was pretty awful my aunty told me last time I was here. Her family went through it all. The killing, the hand to hand fighting. No one was safe here at that time. It was grizzly.”

The group decided to record the dates from the registers. They set about looking for a photocopier, although they were concerned that if they asked the hotel if they could take copies, they would be refused. They smuggle out the books in a large bag and get into a taxi. For an exorbitant fee they were taken to a copy shop and brought back again by their overly attentive driver. He had adopted the group, gave them his card and repeatedly demanded that they call the number and ask for him by name. He would be their guide. He was the best taxi driver in Dhaka. The group booked him to collect them the next day so that they return to Keiths aunt to look through her family photos.

*

The next day the taxi arrived as arranged. The driver came into the hotel lobby to announce that their transport was ready. Clara was first to great the driver, followed by the other two. Keith had his small selection of photographs with him in readiness for the meeting.

At Keiths aunts luxurious home, A quite a large number of family members have arrived with photographs. It seems that every one wants to join in with this trip down memory lane. They don't seem too jolly.

Keiths aunt had tea and cookies served and they chatted about how they should proceed with the task ahead. Over tea it emerged that the best way would be to make a family tree, possibly on the floor. It would be large. It pleased Keith to find that he had many family members in Dhaka, when only a short time ago, he only had his immediate family in the UK. How quickly things had changed.

As images were laid down, Clara placed, them in a family tree style, starting with Keiths generation, his cousins. He had over forty cousins. This was a very big family. How could his mother have walked away from all this? He was burning to know what had happened, but it was clear that the Indian side of his family were reticent about the topic.

Family members shuffled snaps to find candidates to fit into each generation. There was laughter as images of themselves were placed with care their names added on post it stickers. Hand shakes and introductions marked the building up of the most recent generations. As people were named, Jane made herself useful by making a copy of the developing tree on a sheet of A4 paper. Keith was fascinated by the number of cousins and second cousins he has. They were all named and there were photos for most of them. Laborious. Where there are no photos, the name was placed.

Once the generations from Keith to the modern day was complete, it was time to go back one generation. They would now concentrate on his mothers generation. Again, they named each person.

“Natasha. I never knew your mum was called Natasha,” said Clara.

“Why would you, I always call her mum.” Keith responded with a tired smile. Natashas sisters and brothers were placed above their offspring. Their partners were added.

Keiths mother had married at nineteen years old and had six children. Keith repeats what he has just learnt as the pictures were placed one by one, “My mother had an Indian husband and 6 children. How could she leave them and never ever mention them again. I don't understand this. She was so loving. I don't understand any of this. Look, are you sure this is my mother?”

Keiths aunt was quiet, slow, what she was about to say pained her. She did not want to relive the days that led up to Natasha leaving the family. Those who had lived through the times never spoke of it, it was so painful even today.

Keith pressed her for information. He had no clue as to what had happened. His mother had six children in Dhaka and had walked out on them and her husband, married again in the UK and started all over again. There was a story here that he needed to be told.

“All dead. There was an uprising. It's in the past. Bangladesh wanted to be out of Pakistan. We fought for our nation. It was bitter and bloody. I mentioned it last time you came. It is a defining moment in your family.” There was silence as his aunt, tiny, huddled on the floor, talking in a scant whisper continued. “Your mother, Natasha, was a very pretty woman, like Clara here. So like Clara.” She fell into silence as she wiped away the tears that flowed discreetly. “Please forgive me.This is a difficult time for me to tell you about. So many bad things happened, but by far the worst, was what happened to my sister Natasha's family. All killed. Every last one. But first, first they raped her. Her husband and children were made to watch. When it was over they killed them all and beat my beautiful sister so badly that she was left for dead.” She wept silently.

Keith, uncomprehending looked at his aunt,”I don't understand. How could she be so normal. My mum couldn't have gone through all that and been so, so, ordinary.

A servant entered the room and cleared his throat. All eyes fell on him, barely grasping what he was. Keiths aunt nodded. “Lunch is served.” he said in a pompous manner.

They all trailed into the dining room to eat. It was a feast for a special occasion, but not a word was uttered for a quarter of an hour. At last the aunt raised her wine glass and offered a toast to Natasha and both her families. It broke the ice. People around the table began to relax. By the end of the lunch , which had several courses, the family had begun to enjoy themselves.

By the end of the lunch no body felt they want to do any more work on the family tree. It had been too traumatic for one day. They planned to resume in a couple of days time to finish off. Jane took a photo of the work so far, and a few close ups. Keith can't get the revelation about his mums disastrous Indian life out of his head.

*

Dylis and John had enjoyed a wonderful evening together at a very good restaurant. Considering their early dislike of each other, John was puzzled about their conversion from mortal enemies to lovers. Well, not actually lovers, but they were certainly a close couple now and he liked that.

During a session at the college, John attempted to befriend the two men he sat next to. He thought he should suggest a pub visit. He hoped they might say yes. He was determined to make some friends and could see no reason to put off the start of the project.

The two students were a little taken aback and joked that John and Dylis must have had a falling out. Why else would he suddenly be wanting to go to the pub with them? They arranged to meet up that evening at Johns local, not that he had been to it very often. Pubs were not much fun if you were on your own, but tonight would be different.

Dylis came to check that her students were on task and slipped a note to John inviting him to her place for a square meal that evening, as his daughter has gone away.

At coffee, John had to turn down the offer of a meal, but, luckily, Dylis will have her place to herself for a few days. He will tie up with her the following night. She wishes him luck with his date at the pub.

At Dylis' place, they looked through her photo album. Her late husband and the children and grand children were admired. John told her that he despaired of ever having grandchildren, and that is why he was so lonely. Now that he was widowed, a younger generation would be wonderful.

Dylis turns the conversation to his home, “It's very lovely,” she informs him “It's an upmarket development.” She was impressed and wanted to know what he had done for a living.

He was persuaded to tell Dylis about his work and explained he was not particularly well paid, but he and his wife had been fortunate to inherit a lot of money his wifes side of the family. Though it was not as much money as they were expecting. There were huge difficulties getting money out of India and some had been spent. He had no complaints, however s there was plenty left to give him a comfortable retirement.