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CHAPTER TWO
Yamini retraced her steps back to the docks the following day. The large merchant vessel was docked at the far end of the port, the deck quiet. She guessed that the sailors were all staying in various homes in the village for the night, enjoying a well-deserved rest before they have to set sail again. She kicked a stray stone, sending it flying into the air and down the road. Chapal was playing with Hamsa and Hita and it was surprisingly quiet in the village that day for it was barely dawn.
“Yamini, out so early?”
She turned to face Lokesh, strutting through town in his flagrant red dhoti. “Morning, Lokesh,” she replied, forcing her voice to come out sincere.
Lokesh just nodded, coming up to step with her. “Where’s Amish?”
“Helping his pitaa with the fields.”
“Oh,” was all he said. Yamini detected a hint of sorrow in his voice and she raised her eyebrow a few centimeters.
“What? You want to work on the farm too?” she asked, sarcasm leaving the words bitter on her tongue.
“No,” Lokesh defended, raising his chin. “I’m just bored, that’s all.”
“You know, Lokesh, not everyone can entertain you all the time. We do have farms to take care of.”
“I know that.”
“Why don’t you go play with your warrior friends?” Yamini pointed to the group of Kshatriya who was training in an empty pasture. The men moved with precision, slicing through the air with their hands and pointed feet. Yamini peeked over at Lokesh and saw the longing in his eyes. He was still small in stature, only a few inches taller than she was with thin arms and legs. He hadn’t yet grown into his man shape.
“Just a few more years, Lokesh, and you can train too.”
“Who says I want to train?” he said gruffly, spinning on one heel away from the Kshatriyas.
Yamini frowned, bewildered by this statement. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“It’s not like you can quit what caste you are put in.”
“I know. But I’m not sure I want to be a warrior,” he mumbled, his voice as soft as a spring breeze.
“Don’t want to be a warrior?” Yamini wrinkled her nose, more confused than ever. She had never heard of a person not wanting to be what they were. Her father was a farmer; so were her grandfather and great-grandfather. They had always been in the Vaishyas caste.
Same went for Lokesh. His father and his father’s father had always been Kshatriyas, warriors of their town. He was to follow in their footsteps, bringing honor to the caste.
“Just forget it, Yamini. You’re too young to understand.”
“I’m not young,” Yamini burst in frustration. ‘I’m ten years. That isn’t young!”
“Okay.” Lokesh raised his hands in surrender, his sun-baked face holding a smirk.
Yamini sighed. “Sorry,” she mumbled, quickening her pace. “I have to get back to the farm. My pitaa needs help with the rice again.”
Lokesh nodded sadly. “Okay.” She started to walk away, feeling a little sorry for him when he called out to her retreating back, “Yamini! Tell Amish that I was looking for him!”
She waved her hand to let him know she heard, and continued down the road back to her home.
When she arrived, her father was already waiting for her in the paddies. “Pitaa!” she yelled breathlessly. “Sorry I’m late. I went to—“
“It’s fine, Yamini. Just come help me,” he ordered softly, trailing through the rice. Yamini nodded, quickly gathering her supplies. It was her job to carry the rice out after her father retrieved them. After about three trips back and forth, her back began to ache. She hadn’t done this kind of work in a long time. The sun was hot that day, beating onto her bare neck, making it prickle with heat. She raised her hand to wipe the beads of sweat from her forehead when she spotted something that surprised her.
At the end of her walkway, Anusha was there in one of her brightest saris, purple and green. A man was walking with her, his attire not of India. He wore brown trousers and a tan tunic that was tucked into his waistband. His boots reached his knees and his hair was long and dark. They were both laughing, mouths wide in amusement. It was obvious where he was from—the British vessel.
He was a sailor.
Excitement rose inside of her then and she dropped her basket of rice, quickly tying up her sari to make pants before taking off at a wild sprint. She didn’t even make it past the fields before Rajata caught her. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
Yamini stopped short. “No where,” she said off-handily, running shaky fingers through her long, brown hair.
“Sure.” Rajata rolled her eyes. “I saw the man too. He’s here to rent.”
“Rent?” The excitement was building; she felt it bubbling just below the surface, ready to burst out of her at any moment.
“Yeah, Yamini, to rent. Anusha is taking him to see pitaa.”
Yamini slowly backed away, nodding before running off in the opposite direction. Rajata watched her go with hidden amusement.
“Pitaa! Pitaa!” Yamini screamed, sloshing through the rice paddies.
“Ah, Yamini! You are making a mess,” Bhanu scolded, staring at the muddy streaks now staining her sari.
“Sorry, pitaa. But come! You must come quickly! We have a visitor.” Yamini started tugging on her father’s bare arm, urging him to follow her.
“A visitor? What is this talk about a visitor, Yamini?”
“Just come, pitaa.”
Yamini led her father all the way through the fields back to the front of the house, where Anusha was waiting with the mysterious sailor.
Bhanu frowned instantly upon seeing him. “Anusha, who is this?” he demanded, his eyes cold.
Anusha quickly stood, straightening her sari. “Pitaa, this is Thomas.” She stretched out the sailor’s name, giggling when she saw him smile at the wrong pronunciation. “He is asking for rent until his ship sails.”
Bhanu’s frown deepened. “Anusha, come inside. You too, Yamini.” He didn’t say a word to Thomas.
Once inside the house, he spun to face Anusha. “How could you do this? Bring this man inside our home. You know how I feel about them!” His face was deepening in color, his cheeks flushed.
Anusha raised her chin. “Pitaa, you always said to me that you live your life believing in people until they prove you otherwise. How is Thomas any different?”
“You know what happened to your maataa!”
Silence engulfed the room. Yamini trembled in the corner, feeling the tears well in her eyes. Anusha was stony, her face expressionless.
Bhanu took a deep breath, turning away from his eldest daughter. “I will not allow such a man into my house after his breed took my wife from me.”
“Pitaa, you say that forgiveness is the most special gift a person can give to another. You must learn to forgive.”
Bhanu stayed mute, unable to find an answer to his daughter’s wisdom.
“Please, pitaa. Let him stay.”
Yamini looked up into her father’s eyes, filled with images of the past. She watched as they slowly cleared, taking in his two daughters before him. “He will stay,” was his last words to them before he stormed from the house and back to the rice fields. Anusha’s face split into a wild smile and she skipped from the room to tell Thomas the news.
Yamini, however, stayed hidden in the kitchen, crawling up into a chair in the corner. She was still unable to forget her father’s face when he found out about their mother’s death.
It had been an unnaturally cold night in India, filled with harsh winds. Dirt was thrown into the air, making visibility almost null. Bhanu had told them to stay inside, pacing in front of the door, waiting for his wife, Divya to return from her rounds in the village. She was a healer, one that was extremely loyal to her patients. Yamini remembered being in the kitchen chewing her fingernails, her six-year-old body trembling with fear. Hamsa and Hita were just babes, fast asleep in their blankets. Anusha, only twelve at the time, was busy cleaning up the house, doing her duties, in-wait just as the rest of the family was.
It wasn’t until the following morning that her father got the news. The messenger said that Divya had been walking along the docks when a group of drunken sailors had been messing around. They had seen Divya and had talked to her. Things had gotten out of hand and the one sailor had shoved Divya, planning to walk away. But she had lost her footing and had tumbled into the ocean.
They had tried to save her but Divya had never been a good swimmer….
She had not made it.
Yamini jerked back to the present, mentally shaking her head just as Thomas and Anusha entered. She was smiling, her attractive face alit with happiness. Yamini took the time to explain the new guest more closely.
He was taller than her father, with shoulder-length dark hair, and golden-colored eyes like sunlight dappled over sand. His smile was broad, his face young. He looked only a few years older than Anusha, maybe nearing eighteen summers.
“And this is my sister, Yamini,” Anusha introduced.
Thomas nodded to her. “I’m Thomas, Yamini. You will pass my gratitude on to your father, won’t you? I am very grateful for him letting me stay.”
Yamini just nodded, mesmerized by his strange speech. She had learned at young age the speech of the Britain’s but it still sounded silly to her ears.
“Good.” Thomas smiled before turning to follow Anusha to the spare bedroom off the hall. Yamini watched her go, chewing feverishly on her bottom lip. This guest made things difficult at home. She knew her father would be tense throughout Thomas’ entire stay.
But she anxious to hear about him, listen to him talk, hear his tales. She just hoped he would share them with her.
Peering quickly down the hall to make sure Thomas was settling in, she raced from the house, set on finding Amish to share the news with him.
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