In came running the gentle Miss. Claret like a rocket on its way to the mysterious blue moon. She shot through the kitchen, slamming the door so hard that the whole house started to literally shake, the true limitless run of a child’s limbs, and ran to her room plunging right under the bed like a dolphin plunges into the blue divine waters of the oceans. She looked sweetly frightened, as she pinned herself to the dark corner at the end of the bed. Comfortably packed in her purplish dress that whispered with her knees. Her soft red cheeks and her red lips had become further more heightened in color with all the running. She was trembling.
“Miss. Claret! I will not tolerate this behavior in this house. This is a house of gentlemen, and you are a fine lady yourself. You will not be seen running around taking the whole house down as if you had been chased by a ghost”, screamed poor Triviela from the counter behind the kitchen. “You will learn to be a lady and come down at once.”
Triviela had been with the family for longer then the family could remember and so had been her mother and her father. She could not recall living anywhere else but the back garden house they had been living in for the last three generations. And for all one knew, they might have been there since before that but no one could recall. She had devoted her life to this house and its members, and was herself considered a part of the family. Claret was her favorite time pass; a kid of 7 as she was, with no care of anything. Triviela loved her. Triviela’s father had been the right hand man for Mr. Robert Alister Simpleton but he had died of a stab in the heart by a young white boy who lived in the neighborhood, and her mother had run away with another man (not the left hand man, no!). Since then she had lived alone in the house.
“Miss. Claret, are you coming down or do I come up?”
The trembling silence in the aftermath of an unknown shock. She stormed the stairs and went straight to Claret’s room. It was on the left side of the stairs, right above the kitchen, with a white door. “Miss. Claret you will stop playing games and come out from wherever you are hiding this very moment”, ordered Triviela in a voice that could have made the naughtiest mouse surrender. But nothing came out. She waited for some instant and then looked under the bed.
All her anger melted down in one flash of concern. “Oh! Miss. Claret what happened? Why are you crying?”
From between the gentle quivering lips Miss. Claret pronounced “There is someone beyond the farm, in the trees.” And hid herself deeper into the corner.
“OK! Now come out Miss. Claret and we’ll call your brother and he’ll look into this matter right away.”
Joseph Alister Simpleton had just returned from his school for his holidays and had been busy marking birds in the blue painted sky since the day he had arrived. At 21 there was not a soul as ill bred as him. With his gun hanging by his side all day, he would wander through the village and the entrance of the forest looking for animals and birds to shoot. His annual report had followed closely behind him, and Mr. Simpleton did not look very pleased at the sight of it. But no one could make the young simpleton understand. Mr. Simpleton had uttered just one sentence to his wife, when he saw the letter. “Darling; spare the rod, spoil the child!” His mother had definitely not been very delighted either, but she just kept convincing herself that her precious little child would learn some day and that day would come soon.
Since it was still early for a huntsman on a holiday from school, Joseph was still in the process of putting on his clothes and hunting boots when he was summoned by Triviela. He came out abruptly when he heard that his sister had been frightened by a Mr. someone hiding beyond the farm.
“Mr. Joseph, someone has scared your little sister while she was out, playing this morning. I want you to come along with me to check on this person since your papa and ma, have gone to the city on some urgent errand and will be back by this afternoon.”
They were both leaping towards the end of the farm, where the forest started. Mr. Joseph had taken along his gun, thinking it might be useful if in case it was someone more powerful then himself. He had a slender figure. And Triviela merely strode alongside, her head held high with all the confidence and grace the universe could summon in one person. All the field hands on the plantation stopped to greet both the visitors. Triviela, because they all loved her, and Mr. Joseph because they didn’t know how else to react, unless they wanted to get into trouble. With merry voices sweating with labour they inquired of the rush.
Triviela was a beautiful lady in her late 20’s. No one knew precisely her age. But it was popularly thought to be 29 at that point in time. Popularly because she was the heart throb of many a folks. Her beautiful grey eyes and her gentle small face with the sharp jaw and silent features, had since forever been a topic of long discussions among the young black gentry. Men would sit around in bars in the Negro areas and talk through the night about how she had enchanted each one of them by coming in their dreams. Talking till almost morning at times through vain disoriented sentences, until the snore of one awakened the others to the limits of the world and all stumbled towards home to be screamed at by their mothers.
With Mr. Joseph by her side she could not dare to answer to any of the black folks. And Mr. Joseph himself was too arrogant to answer to a bunch of black farm slaves. So she kept her pace steady towards the forest without even a glace at the calls from the plantation all around her. Everyone knew the reason, and did not mind it. They had enough respect for both Triviela and old Mr. Simpleton, to not care about such things.
There were two entries to the forest, one through the main road, which was used as the commercial and social route of communication. And the other was a goat path, used by the negros of the village, to communicate between the cities, since they were not allowed to enter the main road. Unless of course they were being taken to be traded, but even that happened very seldom now a days.
The plantation was a huge farm of cotton acquiring three flat hills. It was the largest plantation anywhere in a radius of a hundred miles. The rest were smaller; much smaller. But this did not make anyone envy the Simpletons. Everyone was aware that old Mr. Simpleton’s sweat was in every inch of this farm. It had been the only farm where the owner’s had worked along side the labour to bring about the plantation. And each year they would celebrate together after the day of the harvest.
This of course was something of grave concern among the neighboring white folks and Mrs. Simpleton often had to listen to long lectures about not letting her husband mix with such low folks. But she was wise enough to know when to speak and when to keep quite. She would listen to all these comments blurted out, in the name of concern but never ever mentioned a word to her husband about it. Mrs. Simpleton, although had acquired this name after her marriage, but it seemed that she had forever been born to acquire this name. She was the simplest soul alive. Her house was the only house where even the labors from other plantations came to greet on occasions. Mrs. Simpleton was the only person in more then a hundred miles invited for all the black ceremonies, every time they took place. It was not that Mr. Simpleton was excluded, but he hardly had time to visit anyone, so he was excused. Although he had a habit of personally apologizing for not being able to make it. And people respected them from their hearts; from the bottom of their hearts.
The white kinds from the other plantations had nothing to do all day. The girls used to get together and giggle under this tree or that, until summoned by their nannies. And the boys would loiter around chasing dogs or playing one stupid game after the other until lunch and then continue the routine. But as they would see young Mr. Joseph out with his gun they would run towards him. Triviela and Joseph had reached the goat path when the white kids spotted the gun. Their run and chase started the next moment.
Triviela knew very well that her poor darling Claret did not like the other white girls and spent most of her time around these parts, plucking flowers and singing songs. Claret was a sweetheart, like her mother. She kept the company of the workers and kept reminding them that some day when she was old enough she would join them in their work. She often came to play around these parts and the field hands keep a watch on her from where ever they were. Not because they had been asked to, but because they loved to. But today even they had been surprised as she shot to the house, half running-half jumping upon her small legs at the speed of a bullet.
The white boys arrived in a state of absolute hysteria. Young Mr. Joseph, to prove his worth did not even look at them. But they followed him wherever he went.
Triviela suddenly saw two eyes looking at her from behind a tree, and Mr. Joseph saw it too, only that the eyes did not see Mr. Joseph.
Triviela with a touch of fear and concern asked the man in a slow voice as he came out from behind the tree, “Oh! Was it you over here when Miss. Claret was playing right now?”
“Ye! I was it. I thought I will surprise her, but Miss. Claret ran before I even moved”, answered a hoarse voice.
The field hands had all risen by now from their work and were all looking in the direction of all the excitement. Curious about the nature of the excitement.
“You dared to frighten my sister? You will be punished”, commanded Caesar.
“But sire I didn’t intend to, she know me well. I was only playing”.
There were trinkets of pearls somewhere at the bottom of two beautiful eyes. Just at the edge, threatening to fall. Triviela knew the course these events would take in the given circumstances, with the given people. Two of the boys ran backwards towards their house. This was the beginning.
“What were you doing here?”
“I see Miss Claret playing here, and I had wanted to meet you before we married, so I thought I would go along with her to meet you”, replied the hoarse voice. “It is alright. I will bear it”.
The boys brought a chair and a whip.
“Miss. Claret! I will not tolerate this behavior in this house. This is a house of gentlemen, and you are a fine lady yourself. You will not be seen running around taking the whole house down as if you had been chased by a ghost”, screamed poor Triviela from the counter behind the kitchen. “You will learn to be a lady and come down at once.”
Triviela had been with the family for longer then the family could remember and so had been her mother and her father. She could not recall living anywhere else but the back garden house they had been living in for the last three generations. And for all one knew, they might have been there since before that but no one could recall. She had devoted her life to this house and its members, and was herself considered a part of the family. Claret was her favorite time pass; a kid of 7 as she was, with no care of anything. Triviela loved her. Triviela’s father had been the right hand man for Mr. Robert Alister Simpleton but he had died of a stab in the heart by a young white boy who lived in the neighborhood, and her mother had run away with another man (not the left hand man, no!). Since then she had lived alone in the house.
“Miss. Claret, are you coming down or do I come up?”
The trembling silence in the aftermath of an unknown shock. She stormed the stairs and went straight to Claret’s room. It was on the left side of the stairs, right above the kitchen, with a white door. “Miss. Claret you will stop playing games and come out from wherever you are hiding this very moment”, ordered Triviela in a voice that could have made the naughtiest mouse surrender. But nothing came out. She waited for some instant and then looked under the bed.
All her anger melted down in one flash of concern. “Oh! Miss. Claret what happened? Why are you crying?”
From between the gentle quivering lips Miss. Claret pronounced “There is someone beyond the farm, in the trees.” And hid herself deeper into the corner.
“OK! Now come out Miss. Claret and we’ll call your brother and he’ll look into this matter right away.”
Joseph Alister Simpleton had just returned from his school for his holidays and had been busy marking birds in the blue painted sky since the day he had arrived. At 21 there was not a soul as ill bred as him. With his gun hanging by his side all day, he would wander through the village and the entrance of the forest looking for animals and birds to shoot. His annual report had followed closely behind him, and Mr. Simpleton did not look very pleased at the sight of it. But no one could make the young simpleton understand. Mr. Simpleton had uttered just one sentence to his wife, when he saw the letter. “Darling; spare the rod, spoil the child!” His mother had definitely not been very delighted either, but she just kept convincing herself that her precious little child would learn some day and that day would come soon.
Since it was still early for a huntsman on a holiday from school, Joseph was still in the process of putting on his clothes and hunting boots when he was summoned by Triviela. He came out abruptly when he heard that his sister had been frightened by a Mr. someone hiding beyond the farm.
“Mr. Joseph, someone has scared your little sister while she was out, playing this morning. I want you to come along with me to check on this person since your papa and ma, have gone to the city on some urgent errand and will be back by this afternoon.”
They were both leaping towards the end of the farm, where the forest started. Mr. Joseph had taken along his gun, thinking it might be useful if in case it was someone more powerful then himself. He had a slender figure. And Triviela merely strode alongside, her head held high with all the confidence and grace the universe could summon in one person. All the field hands on the plantation stopped to greet both the visitors. Triviela, because they all loved her, and Mr. Joseph because they didn’t know how else to react, unless they wanted to get into trouble. With merry voices sweating with labour they inquired of the rush.
Triviela was a beautiful lady in her late 20’s. No one knew precisely her age. But it was popularly thought to be 29 at that point in time. Popularly because she was the heart throb of many a folks. Her beautiful grey eyes and her gentle small face with the sharp jaw and silent features, had since forever been a topic of long discussions among the young black gentry. Men would sit around in bars in the Negro areas and talk through the night about how she had enchanted each one of them by coming in their dreams. Talking till almost morning at times through vain disoriented sentences, until the snore of one awakened the others to the limits of the world and all stumbled towards home to be screamed at by their mothers.
With Mr. Joseph by her side she could not dare to answer to any of the black folks. And Mr. Joseph himself was too arrogant to answer to a bunch of black farm slaves. So she kept her pace steady towards the forest without even a glace at the calls from the plantation all around her. Everyone knew the reason, and did not mind it. They had enough respect for both Triviela and old Mr. Simpleton, to not care about such things.
There were two entries to the forest, one through the main road, which was used as the commercial and social route of communication. And the other was a goat path, used by the negros of the village, to communicate between the cities, since they were not allowed to enter the main road. Unless of course they were being taken to be traded, but even that happened very seldom now a days.
The plantation was a huge farm of cotton acquiring three flat hills. It was the largest plantation anywhere in a radius of a hundred miles. The rest were smaller; much smaller. But this did not make anyone envy the Simpletons. Everyone was aware that old Mr. Simpleton’s sweat was in every inch of this farm. It had been the only farm where the owner’s had worked along side the labour to bring about the plantation. And each year they would celebrate together after the day of the harvest.
This of course was something of grave concern among the neighboring white folks and Mrs. Simpleton often had to listen to long lectures about not letting her husband mix with such low folks. But she was wise enough to know when to speak and when to keep quite. She would listen to all these comments blurted out, in the name of concern but never ever mentioned a word to her husband about it. Mrs. Simpleton, although had acquired this name after her marriage, but it seemed that she had forever been born to acquire this name. She was the simplest soul alive. Her house was the only house where even the labors from other plantations came to greet on occasions. Mrs. Simpleton was the only person in more then a hundred miles invited for all the black ceremonies, every time they took place. It was not that Mr. Simpleton was excluded, but he hardly had time to visit anyone, so he was excused. Although he had a habit of personally apologizing for not being able to make it. And people respected them from their hearts; from the bottom of their hearts.
The white kinds from the other plantations had nothing to do all day. The girls used to get together and giggle under this tree or that, until summoned by their nannies. And the boys would loiter around chasing dogs or playing one stupid game after the other until lunch and then continue the routine. But as they would see young Mr. Joseph out with his gun they would run towards him. Triviela and Joseph had reached the goat path when the white kids spotted the gun. Their run and chase started the next moment.
Triviela knew very well that her poor darling Claret did not like the other white girls and spent most of her time around these parts, plucking flowers and singing songs. Claret was a sweetheart, like her mother. She kept the company of the workers and kept reminding them that some day when she was old enough she would join them in their work. She often came to play around these parts and the field hands keep a watch on her from where ever they were. Not because they had been asked to, but because they loved to. But today even they had been surprised as she shot to the house, half running-half jumping upon her small legs at the speed of a bullet.
The white boys arrived in a state of absolute hysteria. Young Mr. Joseph, to prove his worth did not even look at them. But they followed him wherever he went.
Triviela suddenly saw two eyes looking at her from behind a tree, and Mr. Joseph saw it too, only that the eyes did not see Mr. Joseph.
Triviela with a touch of fear and concern asked the man in a slow voice as he came out from behind the tree, “Oh! Was it you over here when Miss. Claret was playing right now?”
“Ye! I was it. I thought I will surprise her, but Miss. Claret ran before I even moved”, answered a hoarse voice.
The field hands had all risen by now from their work and were all looking in the direction of all the excitement. Curious about the nature of the excitement.
“You dared to frighten my sister? You will be punished”, commanded Caesar.
“But sire I didn’t intend to, she know me well. I was only playing”.
There were trinkets of pearls somewhere at the bottom of two beautiful eyes. Just at the edge, threatening to fall. Triviela knew the course these events would take in the given circumstances, with the given people. Two of the boys ran backwards towards their house. This was the beginning.
“What were you doing here?”
“I see Miss Claret playing here, and I had wanted to meet you before we married, so I thought I would go along with her to meet you”, replied the hoarse voice. “It is alright. I will bear it”.
The boys brought a chair and a whip.
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