Chapter I

ARSHIA

15th July, 2015. Vaikunth Niwas.Ranikhet, Shimla, India.

"Where the mind is without fear and the
Head is held high,
Where the knowledge is free,
Where the world has not broken up
Into fragments
By narrow domestic walls....."

I read and clutched the well-worn book of poems titled Naibedya by Rabindranath Tagore. My Nana would read Tagore's poems to me to inculcate the values of patriotism and love for my country. Reading such beautiful poems had always pacified my mind. My Nana was no more. But I would make sure that the worldly wisdom that she had instilled into me would never be forgotten.

My grandmother was not only my best friend but also my mentor. I was closer to Nana even than my own mother. Nana's lap was my safe cocoon which had shielded me from all of my inner demons and worldly turmoil. Her cerulean eyes could penetrate into the deepest recesses of my heart and soul. Her soft white hands which were weathered with creases, each telling a beautiful story of its own, had so often feathered me with gentle caresses.

Outside, the giant Deodar trees were quiet today .The gentle rustling sound of the dark green foliage of the the mighty trees was absent and it as if they were mourning my Nana. The entire Vaikhunth Niwas seemed to echo their deathly silence as it seemed lifeless and rudderless. Nana was the guardian angel of this heavenly abode.

I curled up in Nana's deep reclining chair in the veranda. I lovingly caressed its teak armrest, so intricately carved and often polished by Nana so many a time. The blue of the cushions matched the blue of Nana's eyes and her silver thimble had done its magic and created beautiful patterns on them.

I shivered as a deluge of memories flooded my mind. I covered myself with Nana's shawl, the lavender smell which Nana always wore pervading the air.

The stone floor was icy cold today, its criss-cross patterns making it look all the more menacing. But with Nana, I had played so many games on their blocks .Now they were looking at me ominously.

The glass lamps with their metal shades seem to cast an eerie glow. The lamps had always shone so brightly in the past when I and Nana had played games and she regaled me with anecdotes and stories of her times and life. I cried myself to sleep as I went back to those happy times in the deep chair as if it was Nana's lap covered with her shawl.

I was woken from my deep reverie by a sharp nudge. It was Shanta Maa who looked after us day and night. She had been my mother's nanny. She lovingly dried the tears from my eyes and took me to the wide window as Nana would have done. Shanta Maa made me look at the majestic cedar trees which Nana loved.

"Arshia ! Your Nana would not feel happy to see you be weak and shedding tears. She wanted you to be as resolute and regal as these cedar trees. You Know, she often told me that my Arshia is a chip of the old block. She is like me..."And when I used to ask her how, she used to gaze at me with an enigmatic smile.

I looked at cedar trees and recalled the times when Nana had always infused courage into me when I used to be dejected by taking me to the wide window and showing the strong cedar trees.

"It's all in the mind, Arshia! Be brave and fight all odds!"

I smiled at Shanta Maa . "Good! Your mother wants to see you in the hall."

"Have all the relatives come?" I asked her.

"Yes! You better hurry up."

I ran towards the hall.Shanta Maa was right. I entered the White room which was packed with our relatives. The White Room, as the hall was called was Nana's labour of love. She had set it step by step. The imposing size and the immaculate finish of the décor, the rhythmic pattern of graceful white arches and glazed doors opening on the wide balcony, , the refined colour scheme and the elegant casings of white-streaked imitation marble combined to produce a strikingly decorative effect. The walls were adorned with antique and contemporary reliefs on mythological subjects. In harmony with the ground colour of white tapestries was the exquisite carved furniture upholstered in white. The whole room was washed in a regal and serene ambience that was a part of Nana.

My eyes were greeted by the sight of my Aunt Lakshmi who was dressed in an ostentatious red sari and
gold jewellery, Uncle Hari dressed in a tuxedo with a red tie that matched my Aunt's sari and Cousin Lucky dressed as ludicrously as his parents. They were dressed for revelry and not a sombre gathering. My temper flared and I lashed out.

"How dare you dishonour my Grandmother?"

My aunt turned up her nose at me and twirled the ends of her wispy hair. She angrily said, "How dare you Arshia? You are a good for nothing brat just like Jasmine was! She stole my late father's birth right. We are not here to mourn her but to celebrate her death. Now we'll prosper. As soon as I get anointed as the mistress of this house, I'll kick all of the British half breeds out."

My mother grew red in face and was about to retaliate.

But my father held her back and said, "Laranya don't waste your breath on them. Think of Mom!"

My mother calmed down at the mention of Nana.

Ramu Kaka, our ancient butler immediately rushed inside. He
took a moment to catch his breath and used the red towel draped around his neck to wipe his sweaty forehead. He then announced the arrival of Mr Narayan Ramanand, our family lawyer.

The portly bespectacled man entered the house. His presence
commanded an aura of respect. His icy gaze softened when he saw my parents and nodded in their direction. He smiled when he saw me.

But the minute he eyed my Aunt and her despicable brood, all the softness in his eyes was gone in an instant and was replaced by a look of deep hatred. My Aunt cowered like a frightened hare under his gaze and shuffled aside nervously.

He took a thick manila folder out of his bag and cleared his throat and said,

"We are gathered here today to hear the will of Jasmine Maria
Singh. She has left her family members a letter. In this letter, she says-

My dear family,

I have decided to write this last letter to express my love to each and every one of you. My family has always been my pillar of strength.

To Laranya, my beautiful daughter and the sunshine of my life, I leave the Vaikunth Niwas, our ancestral house with the hope that she'll fill every dark nook and cranny of this beautiful house with her sunshine and happiness. I also leave you the key of our family vault.

To Raghav, my son-in-law, I leave the family business of money lending and responsibility of taking care of our farmers and their rice fields with the hope that you nurture them just as our ancestors have done since aeons.

To Lakshmi, my darling niece, I leave you with the responsibility of handling the different charity
trusts working under our family name with the hope that you learn the art of giving back to society. You'll be assisted by Mr Ramanand. It is imperative that you always take his sage counsel in these matters.

To Arshia, my angelic granddaughter, I leave you a key with the hope that this helps you unlock this mystery called life and that this key always reminds you of the fact that I'll be watching over you.

Love,
Jasmine Maria Singh."

My Aunt stood up in a huff. Her
face was beet red. She started yelling in anger, "Not again! I'll not let injustice happen again. Laranya does not deserve the family estate! I am the true heiress!"

My mother calmly said, "Lakshmi
calm down. Please don't dishonour my mother's memory. Please leave if you're going to create a ruckus. We can sort out our differences as mature adults at a later date as my family and I are still in mourning."

My Aunt roughly clamped her hands around her husband's and son's wrists and dragged them out.

My mother broke down and started
wailing, "I miss mom!"

Mr Ramanand looked at my gloomy mother and said, "Your mother was a very wise and far sighted lady. She had fought all odds and built
her own destiny. Take care of her legacy".

Mr Ramanand handed me a chain with a silver key in it. The key looked familiar. It had her Nana's initials intricately inscribed on its
plate. I lovingly caressed it.

Nana was again playing her favourite game of treasure-hunt.

Later that night

The night had fallen. The cedar trees were still silent .

I could not sleep. So I went to Shanta Ma and asked her about
the key but she had no idea. I went to the study and asked my parents about it. But they too were in dark.

I was restless and wandered aimlessly around until I reached Nana's room.

I slowly opened the door and entered it.

A medley of delicious colours-peach, mango, yellow, and blue-imbued the bedroom with serenity. Lavish silk bed curtains cascaded from an antique walnut crown. A wooden bench at the foot of the bed added a cozy sitting area. Orange club chairs and a matching ottoman brought warmth. Sculpted roses and griffins adorned the room. There was a stately, almost yard-tall console topped with a beautiful, quality faux marble top. The generously sized, companion salon mirror sparkled to reflect its own ornate, beribboned sculpt. In one corner was a handsome Elmwood chest which contained Nana' s treasures and which no one touched.

I retreated into the area around the stony fireplace with the orange ottoman where I used to sit down while Nana was seated in her rocking-chair. Here Nana had regaled me with so many stories and anecdotes. My mind went back to those times , my fingers lovingly caressed the silver key around my neck. I kept on wondering where I had seen it before.

And as my mind kept on flipping from one memory to another
to find the lock to the key, I found the answer to my queries.

I recalled one cold winter evening when Nana and I were warming ourselves by the stony hearth,
Nana had opened an exquisitely carved mahogany box with a silver key. When I wanted to see its contents, Nana very adeptly
put me aside and said,"Arshia, you are always in a hurry. I will show you what it contains when the time comes. Till then reign in your curiosity."

I had pleaded and begged but to no avail. She just kept on smiling enigmatically.

The mystery box was locked and placed back in the elms wood chest.
I rushed to the chest and opened its drawers. I found the mystery box in the second drawer carefully wrapped in linen. I reverently took
it out and caressed it lovingly. With shaking hands, I took the key and put it in the lock. It turned and the box opened.

A waft of lavender perfume that Nana always wore pervaded the air.

Inside were leather-bound journals

I opened the first one. Nana's chiselled and fine writing held me spell-bound.

I was struck with awe and wonder and my joy knew no bounds.

Nana would always be with me.

It was the gift of a lifetime.

Nana had left me a treasure -trove of memories and a lifetime.

I forgot all of my grief and started reading .....

"Dear Diary,

It all began in the summer of 1960 when I found out that......."