Foreword
I had recently enrolled for a historical fiction competiton organized by Globe Soup. The topics were randomly assigned after the ticket was bought and I happened to get the British Raj (The period after the reign was passed to the crown until the independence) as my assigned topic.
Though one might think that it should be an easy task given that my roots lie there, it was the exact opposite. I had to research a lot, but it was fun and a great learning.
Out of more than 650 writers around the globe, this one made into the top 9% as a finalist story :) Happy reading!!
July 29th, 1870, brought a serene evening to Coonoor, a charming hill station nestled in the Nilgiri Hills of Tamil Nadu, India. The British had established sprawling tea estates across the region, constructed elegant summer houses for their respite, and imported indentured laborers from various corners of India to tend the plantations. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape, the cool evening breeze whispered through the lush tea gardens.
Gajendran and Ramaswamy, friends, settled on temple steps after a long day. The temple, a silent witness to countless stories, provided a peaceful refuge from the relentless pace of their lives. They spoke of mundane matters, but beneath their casual banter lay an unspoken tension. Gajendran, sensing his friend’s unease, tried to lighten the mood, but eventually gave up. “I have no intentions of marrying Sivagami. My aim is to find a rich merchant, marry his daughter, and settle in her house for good. I plan to escape from here tomorrow”, Ramaswamy finally said.
Gajendran couldn’t agree more. The idea of being engaged to his niece against his will troubled him deeply. When the chance arose, he seized it, claiming he had always dreamed of wooing a white woman and settling on the English coast.
Semba and Sivagami, hiding behind the pillars trembled, as the gravity of the betrayal hit them. Sivagami’s heart pounded with a mixture of shock and devastation, her eyes welling up with tears. The realization that their men had never reciprocated their feelings shattered them. Heartbroken and desperate to remain unseen, they clung to the shadows, their silent sobs betraying the depth of their anguish as they continued to listen.
The two men, unaware they weren’t alone, discussed their escape plan. From Coonoor, descending the mountain on one side led to Coimbatore and the other to Calicut. Calicut, a major Indian port, offers variety and is easily accessible to the masses. After choosing Calicut, they discussed how to leave Coonoor without attracting attention. As they were talking, somebody knocked them from behind, and they fell on the floor with a thud, unconscious.
The women, nineteen and best friends, had come earlier, hid themselves, intending to surprise their partners. Their marriage was an arranged one, just like any Indian family. In India, people arrange marriages based on caste and creed, and it is common for girls to marry their maternal uncles. The special bonding and memories they shared with them as a kid had bloomed into teenage romance in due course. Their initial surprise turned to shock at overhearing the conversation.
The conservative Indian society often branded a woman ignored by her betrothed as ‘unmarriageable’. It becomes a topic of discussion in every household. Anger surged through them as they pictured the humiliation in store for them.
The girls picked up two heavy logs of wood that were lying scattered everywhere and tiptoed forward and attacked Ramaswamy and Gajendran. They brought the unconscious men to the barn nearby, tied their mouths with a piece of cotton from their sarees. With a length of five yards, a saree always had enough material to spare.
Momentary satisfaction did nothing to ease their deep turmoil. Their hearts ached with unresolved emotions. After a while, they gathered their strength and prepared to walk back home, knowing a long journey awaited them.
The English officer’s residence boasted wide verandas that offered sweeping views of the lush tea estates. Tall, narrow windows framed with intricate woodwork allowed the cool mountain breeze to flow through the spacious rooms. A manicured garden with vibrant flowerbeds and trimmed hedges surrounded the property, adding to its charm.
As Sivagami introduced herself as Velu to the English officer, she couldn’t contain her excitement about horses and her ability to work with them. She had learned that the man, respectfully known as ‘Lord Litton Saaar,’ needed a replacement for his bedridden charioteer. Lord Lytton, a civil servant of the British Crown and the Estate Manager overseeing the tea plantations in Coonoor, often travelled to neighbouring towns and met other officers. She introduced her friend Hethappa (Semba) as a skilled translator fluent in five regional dialects and English.
Adorned in traditional clothing, Hethappa displayed a Badaga lungi, a tunic of vivid colours with a wide waist belt, and a sizeable moustache. Velu put on in a dhoti, holy ashes on his forehead. Dhoti and lungi are both unstitched pieces of cotton cloth, each four metres long, clad as wraparound skirts by men. The loose-fitting tunic is a common garment worn with lungis and dhotis, and Velu followed this tradition.
Velu and Hethappa stood by the carriage, ready to begin their journey as soon as their master arrived. The plantation overseer, during his morning stroll, asked the two new guys why they were there. After listening to their explanation, the overseer dismissed their story and whispered that he knew they were escapees. He promised to keep their identities secret if they agreed to help him in return.
Worried of their cover being blown, Hethappa accepted the letter and tucked it into his belt, and tried to memorize the instructions on where to deliver it. At that moment, the officer emerged, greeted the supervisor, and, after exchanging pleasantries, ordered Velu to start their journey.
The steady clop of hooves from the portico stirred excitement among the girls. As they engaged in small talk, the officer asked Velu (Sivagami) where she learnt horse riding. Sivagami spoke of her royal heritage, tracing it to ‘Veeramangai’, a title given to Velu Nachiyar, the queen of Sivagangai in the 18th century, known for her bravery. She was among the first to challenge the East India Company in 1780.
Sivagami mastered horse riding and ‘Kalariyattu’, hand-to-hand combat, from her father, who had run a martial arts school in Sivagangai. Unfortunately, the school had to close a few years ago because of his inability to pay government taxes. Enticed by a British ally, they became indentured labourers in Coonoor’s tea plantations. Sivagami kept the latter part of her story in her mind, for obvious reasons.
Meanwhile, noticing at the fluency in the English language of Velu (Semba), Lord Lytton turned towards him and asked about him. Semba came from a line of esteemed poets who served in the king’s court, but her father worked as a clerk for the commissioner in Coimbatore instead of pursuing poetry. He got transferred to Coonoor when Lord Briton, predecessor to Lord Lytton, took charge here. Since he liked the climate and nature in Coonoor, he stayed. His interactions with the English enabled Semba to learn the language.
The journey from Nilgiris to Gudalur, though splendid, was full of hairpin bends and tough slopes. As they neared the plateau region, the officer told Velu to delve into the forest and avoid the main roads. Hethappa assured of handling any Badagas they encountered, understanding the fear of Lord Lytton. The tribal disliked the British and pounce on them, if given a chance. His fears came true when two Badaga men emerged out of the woods, blocking their carriage and commanding them to dismount and follow.
They bound their hands and took them to the lady superior, the top clan leader of the region. While the English officer was cursing Hethappa for not listening to him, Hethappa calmly asked in the Badaga slang if he could privately talk to the chief lady.
Surprised and pleased at the same time, the chief ordered everyone away. After praising the lady for her kindness and ensuring they were alone, Hethappa gently removed her beard and moustache, revealing her true identity. With tears welling up in her eyes, she shared her story with the chief, who softened at once. She hugged Hethappa, wiped her tears, and comforted her.
The chief promised to support the two girls in every way possible. She gave them their traditional gold ring, which could be useful in testing times, and provided a contact person for their stay in Gudalur. She summoned the rest of her men and ordered their release.
The officer reprimanded Hethappa for disobeying orders, feeling lucky but unsure about the tribe’s change of heart. He directed them to take the forest route for the rest of their trip. Apologising without revealing more, they continued their journey and reached Gudalur by nightfall.
After dropping off Lord Lytton, Velu and Hethappa visited Raniamma, the Badaga chief’s contact, who welcomed them. They needed to escape from Lord Lytton, as continuing with him led them to Wayanad, a detour from their plan to reach Calicut. Unfamiliar with any route other than the one discussed by their ex, they wished to stick to it.
Semba and Sivagami slipped out of Raniamma’s house at the crack of dawn the following day. They overheard locals discussing the big trading day at Sultan’s Battery, a potential next stop. After assuming back their original names, they blended with the merchants into the bustling central market.
They were supposed to leave at dawn in bullock carts. When asked what they were going to trade, Semba spun a story. She will sell her ring to first buy spices at a cheap price and later resell them, cashing a high profit. Her fellow-traders fell prey to her telltale and offered to share their spices for free, if she splits the profits with them later.
As she spoke, Sivagami’s face turned pale, and she staggered, on the verge of vomiting. The carts halted, and people rushed to help her. Understanding Sivagami’s real intention, Semba played along and excused herself to go get something for her friend to drink. She delivered the supervisor’s letter at the tea shop and returned with a black tea with lemon. She handed it to Sivagami, winking as she quoted the tea master’s claim: “It cures mountain sickness”.
It was dusk when they arrived at Sultan’s Battery, a crucial outpost amidst the verdant expanse of the Nilgiri Hills. The British built a fort with sturdy stone walls that let them see everything around them. Soldiers patrolled the perimeter, protecting nearby tea estates. The group settled in a resting place arranged for traders in the nearby town.
Nearby towns and settlements around the Battery are important trading points. The next day started with a hustle. Finishing their pile by noon, the girls continued helping others. Shouting and bargaining, trading became their new favourite task. From chattering to sharing meals together, the two women enjoyed their day with the traders. Honouring their promise, they distributed their profits and parted ways.
Amidst crossing the road, blaring music filled the air, and the girls spotted a street play. They sat pondering how to escape the soldiers and overheard whispers on the show’s faltering without its lead. With a spark in their eyes, they approached the troop manager, claiming they were eager performers, who agreed and told them to be ready by dawn.
They avoided distractions and concentrated on their dialogue papers. With Sultan’s Battery and Vythiri thirty-five kilometres apart, they reached by evening. The play was a tremendous success, and everyone praised Kumari (Sivagami) and Chandra (Semba) for their flawless performance.
They set up camp near the forest. Around midnight, they heard thundering noises, loud screams, and the manager pounded on their door. “Quick! Someone has disturbed the elephants. The herd is charging at us. Run and hide! Keep it dark and whisper to communicate.”
There was another artist named Leela who shared a tent with Kumari and Chandra and they sprinted into the woods, taking whatever they could. They ran, breathless, frightened by the loud trumpeting and flying tents. A sudden downpour drenched everything.
The three of them were suddenly alone, and it was pitch dark. Unsure of which direction to move, they bravely took a chance and walked downhill, tightly gripping hands and whispering prayers. Hours later, a faint light cut through the darkness. They headed toward it, hoping for a village. The rain had stopped, but the slick trail made Semba slip and twist her ankle. The other two helped her to the light, which disclosed a shrine. They hastily changed into dry clothes and men’s attire for safety. The chilly wind matched their eerie feeling in their stomachs. “Tomorrow is going to be better,” they said aloud, trying to believe it.
“Semba, how is your leg after the fall? Will you be able to walk again?” enquired Sivagami the next morning. Her body trembled as she recalled escaping the furious onslaught of the enraged elephants. “I’m not sure who Semba is,” said Leela, shocking Sivagami. She forgot a third person had joined their group. She tried to cover up the truth with weak justifications, but faced the necessity of unveiling their secret. Meanwhile, Semba returned and grasped the scene.
After hearing their story, Leela shared her own. At nineteen, Leelavathi, known as Leela, came from Nadugani, a small town on the Kerala-Tamil Nadu border. She had lost her mother at five, and her father remarried. Despite the original hesitation, she grew closer to her stepmother. When Leela turned eighteen, her parents began searching for a groom. Rumours spread and a wealthy man in his fifties who proposed marriage. Desperate for money, they agreed, for a tea plantation in the Nilgiris. Leela’s world collapsed as she heard from the room. With her grandmother’s motivation, she fled to a nearby city and found refuge with a group of street performers. The theatre became her new life and identity.
Leela found safety and anonymity as a nomadic street performer, but missed having a stable home. Moved by her story, the two welcomed her. Early one dawn, Semba walked around, trying to understand their location. She overheard an old lady mentioning a ‘Memsahib’ in town. An English woman who had taken a keen interest in local culture, learning their language and traditions, and a frequent visitor to Puthupady, is in town. Her maid and charioteer had fled during her visit yesterday. Seizing the opportunity, Semba, and Leela saw a chance to escape, as the woman sought someone to take her to a nearby big city.
They persuaded the ‘Memsahib’ to hire the three of them, Siva (Sivagami), the charioteer, Sambu (Semba), the interpreter, and Leela, the maid, set off to Malapuram, a district on the Thamarassery Ghat, an important mountain pass en route Calicut.
The English woman, eager to mix with the locals and learn their culture, enjoyed the breathtaking views and took her time savoring them, lost in her own world. It was challenging to make her understand of not reaching the plains before dusk. After sunset, the mountains became dangerous because of wild animals and unruly individuals, posing a threat to anyone, disguised or not.
They reached only the peripheries of Malapuram by nightfall. Semba approached a passerby and asked for tips on where to stay, using her broken Malayalam. She promised to give them the keys to her rest house and asked them to stay where they were. A couple of hours passed as they continued to wait, tired and frustrated. It was past midnight. Siva, Sambu, and Leela settled under the massive banyan tree, using the expansive space it provided, while the English lady tried to sleep in her carriage. Crickets chirping frightened her and she joined the other three under the tree and waited for sleep to overtake her.
It was midnight when a sudden noise woke Semba. She screamed upon seeing two men with strange faces staring at them. In the darkness, they couldn’t recognize their faces. One of the two men threatened Semba with a knife, demanding silence. The scream alerted the others. Sivagami nudged Semba, who stepped forward and asked what the men wanted. They demanded the women surrender their possessions without making a fuss. When Sivagami pointed out a bundle, one man leaned in to collect it, but she attacked him. The three women pursued the tall man, who escaped with their belongings. Noticing his partner’s flight, the other man freed himself from Sivagami, took the horse carriage, and followed.
With no money and feeling lost, Semba huddled in a corner and cried. Recent happenings overwhelmed her. After a moment of silence, the white lady recommended proceeding to the administrative building in the city center of Malapuram. Her dad’s acquaintance, who is in charge, can help them on their journey to Calicut. With renewed hope, the four continued on foot.
Despite his doubts, the woman’s father’s friend ensured their safe travel. The last leg was smooth, and the generous lady hosted them for the night. Twirling the ring in her hand, Semba contemplated her next move. She had always dreamed of starting her own business selling handicrafts. Sivagami wanted to open a martial arts school, while Leela aimed to teach Bharatanatyam, the classical dance from Tamil Nadu.
The morning afterward, they thanked their kind host and dove into the lively atmosphere of Calicut. As they stepped outside, the rich aromas of spices blending with the salty tang of the coast greeted them. The market buzzed with action as merchants set up their stalls, and the girls blended with the masses, their feeling syncing with the town’s energetic pulse.
They sold the gold ring and used the money to rent a place. With the remaining capital, they bought spices and traded each day. They saved two-thirds of their earnings, investing a third after covering their needs. A year later, they each had enough to set up their own small businesses. Overwhelmed by emotion, they embraced each other and savored their hard-won freedom. As they settled into a deep, much-needed sleep, the promise of a fresh start filled the air.
THE END
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