PRELUDE TO HOME LEAVE
A Sack of Tea Leaf
SHOTGUN under one arm setever it his heels, two plump thukor partides dangling from his gune belt Henry Winton began the steep climb up the bridli pith pleasantly tired, hungry for breakfast reads for his day ready for ins thing There was noth- ing like an hom brisk walk before sunrise to set you up for the day the lone day of he te plinte You were never really wis on your pub since you lived on the plantation itself the man on the spot suizounded by a thousand odd labourers hundred or so clerks and supervisors and chap rassies innumerable wises and childin the troubles were your troubles their problems your problems day or night You lived uronest them ind vet aput from them and above them thank God up there in the gleaming pink and white mana gebung low at the tw edge of the valley screened off from the nonse and the squilos and the sweating world of lab by a thick belt of chir and kul pins You lived all alone with yourself unless you took the dog into account That was the great draw back draw- back and it them tinc also the ultimate saving grace, of a planter life solitude
The company would not have riken you in the first place if you had been med You were not supposed to think of marnage before you had bi en huoken in and m le permanent normally well after your first hume leave You were bout thirty years old by that, time and too set in your ways and too jealous of vom freedom to think of marriage lightly If you came back from your second home leave without a wife you were not likely to get mired ever The company seemed to hink on that almost the majority of its plan ters were middle gung bachelors Not for a moment in all his service almost five years of it now had Henry Winton wondered if it had been worth while He was unshakably convinced that this was his way of life, a man's way in a decadent, motor-car and radio civilization You ran an enormous estate complete with a factory all on your own, sixteen hundred acres of God's own outdoors in the farthest reaches of the Assam highlands planted with the best-yielding tea bushes in India; you controlled a corps of labourers; you created something, even if it was only tea, but at that it was the best tea of its kind in the world. He, Henry Winton, had chosen this life, and he was making a success of it; and as he went striding up the hill, his spirits in tune with the gorgeous, rain-washed, late September morning, he would not have given it up for anything else in the world.
Winding through the dark, matted jungle, the bridle-path went up and up, a narrow, private pathway leading to the manager's bungalow, discreetly by-passing the coolie lines, and the ferment- ing room, and the drying shed smelling faintly of tea, and the grey bulk of the factory itself and its outcrops, the staff quarters and the offices: plunging out of the virgin forest into a corner of the open, terraced garden with its row upon row of prim tea bushes each cropped level as a billiard table; then through the belt of silver oaks and blue pines past the absurd, toy-like private mountain peak called Wallach's Fully to the enchanted seclusion of the bungalow perched on the edge of the cliff like a story book castle; leading up to wa h and comfort and the bustle of trained servants waiting for their sahib's return, eager to do his bidding: to new land eggs and hacon and toast and English marmalade...
There was a rustle and a whoosh night under his feet, cutting through his thoughts like a kife, and a kaly pheasant went rocket ting into the valley. Even as he brought the gun to his shoulder in one smooth, polished movement, as he swung it with the flight of the bird, assessing the correct lead. both eyes wide open, Henry felt that there was something amiss. But it was only after he had pressed the trigger that he became aware of a movement away in the bushes, a fleeting red shadow in the dark jungle directly in his line of fire.
The kalij flew on unhurt, but as the shot rang out, there was a frightened shriek.
Chist! Who's that?" and Henry ran forward, calling out in Hindi: 'Who's that? Are you hurt? Speak!"
The horrible thought of a human-being dead or maimed, the sudden plunge into fear, the unbearable pounding of his heart, the cold sweat...oh, God'
'Christ! Speak up--who's that?" It was a woman in an orange-coloured sari, and she was lying doubled up, her forehead touching the ground, hands folded before her, calling out hysterically. Avo yo yo don't shoot, sahib. please don't kill me Oh, God, spate me, please ayo yo yo" She was obviously no coolie woman from the way she was dressed, and she had called out in English, 'Please don't kill me The one thing of which Henry could be sure was that she was unhurt "Damn" he shouted in a sudden release from tension, and ran up to where she was lying Oh, damn' Stop yelling! No one is going to kill you What the hell and then he saw the sack lying be side her. He knew it held tea leaf
For several weeks past. Henry had suspected that tea leaf from the lower garden was being stolen regularly, but his chowkidar had assured him that there was absolutely no palleing and his chief stockman, a man called Jugal Kishore, had registered astonishment that any loss of leaf should have been even suspected Now he had proot What's this? Henry toated God damu you" He kicked var ously at the sack in a blind rage again and again until the sewing burst open and a sticam of limp dark green tea leaf poured ou. He bent down and picked up a handful All of a sudden the woman got up tan down the hillside, and disappeared in the thick jungle and Henry cursed aloud with rage 'The bitch the damned thieving bitch! Go get her, Herman- get her Herman the labrador bull chested and shining, trained to follow the scent of game and to go or anyone to order went crashing down the khud, nose to the ground tail swishing wildly, making at great deal of noise but not barking, and Henry dashed after him. stumbling in the thick undergrowth and cursing He had gone hardly a hundred yards before he heard te dog barking, and knew that he had caught up with the woman Within a couple of minutes, he came up to them She had climbed in a tree and the dog was keep ing guard below dashing repeatedly at the tree trunk Panting, Henry Winton looked up at the cowering woman per ched astride the first fork of the tree, barely ten feet from the ground, gripping a branch with her legs. She was little more than a girl, per- haps twenty years old Her skimpy sari had a gaping tear in it, and its folds were tightly gathered well above her knees, exposing her legs A thorn had scratched her right leg above the knee, making a raw gash across its tawny brown smoothness. She had covered her face with her hands.
Henry felt a ping of remorse at her plight. Here, Herman, heel" he ordered. 'Come to hel damn you The dog did not leave its post it had chased its quary and treed it, and it must have been far ou excited to remember the finer point of its tiaming. Henry had to produce its leash from his pocket and secure it before it could be dragged away from the tree.
What's your name demanded 1 lemy. The woman made no seply She had uncovered her face, and was staring wide eyed at the dog and at the same time trying to pall down her disaranged sa And then when she not ced the tear it, she burst into tears agam "Where du vou live? Henry asked, quite gently now who were vou taking the leaf to Tell me.
The woman stopped sobbing and stared at him as though sur pused by the gentleness of his tone her yes wide and unblinking: but she did not say anything. And for the first ruse he realized that she was an extraordmartly good lool mg gul with firm, tull figure which her skimpy garments did little to conceal How much do they pay you for every seer Have you been steal ing from my garden before Why don't you take a job you'd earn much more."
It was no use She continued to state at him in silence as though she did not understand a word of what he was saying, Henry shrugged his shoulders in despair, feeling deflated he had caught her stealing lus leat, and now he did not know what to do with her.
'Well,' he said, raising his voice again. If I ever catch you roh- bing inv garden an un. I'll give you a thrashing understand? I'll flog von with a horsew hip, and then hand you over to the police."
At the mention of the police the woman coveted her tate again ard began to sob her shoulders heaving. Henry watched her in helples. ang feeling unequal to the situation, and, moved by some quick impulse of compassion, he made up his mind. He walked up the hill to the pathway deposited his game belt and shotgun on the ground, and tied the dog to a sapling. Then he picked up the sack of leaf It was heavier than he had thought, and for a moment he wondered how such a mere slip of a girl could have carried it on her head. He half-dragged and half-carried the sack to the tree where he had left her She was still perched on her branch and she was shivering with the cold, but she had stopped crying.
Here, take away your blasted sack. Henry said to her. 'But remember, if I ever catch you at it again, I'll thrash you until you wish you were dead. Understand? And he shook his fist at her.
Then he turned and walked back to the bundle path, picked up his gun and partidges, unleashed Herman, and headed for his bunga- low All of a sudden he felt very tired and very hungry, vaguely conscious that he had done something a little unconventional He had given in to an abend parely impulsive weakness of mind which was not in tune with the recognized behaviour-pattern of his call- ing in the fast you could not run a ea estate if you acquired a reputation that you connived at thieving He felt slightly ashamed of his softness, and yet. n spite of himself he also felt strangely elated Damned attractive wench "Hemy muttered to himself as though in explanation Spoke English too.
