Anila's Journey by Mary Finn

Author:Mary Finn [Finn, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781406338065
Publisher: Walker Books Ltd
Published: 2011-06-02T04:00:00+00:00

THE PROPOSAL

MY MOTHER SAID SHE could not understand Mr Bristol’s new proposal at all, but I was thrilled to hear about it. After our palanquin trips, it was the first interesting thing to come our way in this house.

We were in our room when she told me about it. My mother was standing in front of the long mirror. I was sitting on the window ledge watching her. She was wearing a pale blue silk sari with chikan embroidery, just recently delivered by our lively little tailor from Kashi, and she had a new gold chain that I had not seen before. She was trying it different ways, round her neck, across her forehead, even dangling it over her nose like a bazaar monkey.

“Why does he want to have a picture made of me?” she asked me, over and over. “He can see me whenever he wants to. It was different with your father. He had a feeling about making a picture for himself even if he couldn’t actually do it…”

But then she would break off that particular thought. She would return to Mr Bristol and his reasons.

“He says this Mr Hickey is one of the very best painters who have come to Calcutta to paint all the famous English people. But I am not one of those. Why does he not paint Mr Bristol himself, then? He’s famous enough, or so he tells us.”

I laughed at that thought.

“Mr Bristol is plump and pink like a plucked chicken. No one would want to look at his picture, Ma!”

She glared at me.

“He is kind to you. Don’t you be unkind in return.”

“I know, Ma, I know. But you will make a beautiful portrait lady. He knows that.”

My mother was going to have her portrait painted by one of the best painters in our city. Why was she not excited? It was a better way, surely, to spend her time than filling hookahs or passing around paan or running round a table picking up billiard balls.

When I said that I got another angry look.

“Perhaps I don’t want to be stared at. Perhaps I think it is wrong for people I do not know to be looking at me when I am not there. English people, too. You could never know what they might be thinking. Besides, I know the real reason is that it is just a kind of competition. This Mr Hickey has already painted another Englishman’s Indian bibi and Mr Bristol wants my picture to outshine hers. They are so childish, men. They are worse than fighting cocks.”

But she settled the chain over her forehead and fixed her glossy hair to suit it. If it truly was a competition my mother knew she would have to play her part.

“He has promised me gold drop earrings, Anila, though what I would really like is just to run out on the street and buy a simple bangle with my own money. I wish I knew too whether all this jewellery will be yours one day or not.

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