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Sara mounted her table and stood with her head and shoulders above the rim of the window, looking out on the slanted roof of the school. The day was gray as any in London. There was a chilling wind, and the lowering clouds, which threatened snow, had an ominous cast to them. “It makes me feel almost afraid,” Sara said to herself. “It's as if something strange was just going to happen..."
She suddenly turned her head because she heard a sound a few yards away from her. It was an odd sound like a little squeaky chattering. It came from the window of the next attic. Someone had come to look at the sky as she had. There was a head and part of a body emerging from the skylight, but it was not the head or body of another servant, that was immediately apparent. It was an elegantly adorned and dark-faced head of a young native Indian gentleman!
“An Indian Sardar,” Sara said to herself.
The sound she had heard came from a small monkey he held in his arms as if he were fond of it, and which was snuggling and chattering against his breast.
As Sara looked toward him, he looked toward her. The first thing she thought was that his dark face looked sorrowful and homesick. She felt sure he had come to look for the sun because he had seen it so seldom in England that he longed for the merest glimpse of it through a break in the clouds. She looked at him, interested for a second, then, remembering her place, smiled apologetically and began to duck back through the window.
“Wait!” she heard in thickly accented English.
Coming back up through the window, she could see that his whole expression had altered in that moment. He showed a hint of gleaming white teeth as he tried to smile back, not quite accomplishing the “happy” part of the gesture, but assuredly the reassuring part. It was perhaps his concentration in making his features less sorrowful that made him lose his hold on the monkey. He was an impish monkey and always ready for adventure, and it is probable that the sight of a woman sticking out of a roof that excited him because he suddenly broke loose and jumped on the slates, ran across them chattering, and actually leaped on Sara’s shoulder! Then he scampered down into her attic room. It delighted her and made her laugh before she could check herself - servants did not laugh in front of gentlemen, nor try to consort with their “betters” as she had long been taught. She blushed scarlet and hurriedly ducked out of sight.
She knew the monkey must be restored to his master, and she wondered how this was to be done! Even if he let her catch him, she could not just throw the little animal back onto the roof to run away and be lost! Sara could almost imagine the wretchedness such an occurrence would cause in the young man to whom he belonged. For the moment though, she felt glad that she remembered some of the Hindustani she had learned when a young girl and was able to call the monkey in a language he found familiar.
“Come here monkey,” she said simply in that language. Surprisingly, the monkey was very well-trained and came straight to her shoulder from where he had been exploring among the rafters.
A bright laugh issued from the area of the ceiling. She thought she had never heard more surprise and delight than that which colored the voice above her. A flood of words flowed over her as the young Indian man looked down on her, his dark hair loose and hanging about his face. He said something in his native tongue faster than she could follow before he dropped nimbly from the window into the cold, bare attic. Seeing the surprised and horrified look on her face (for gentlemen did not visit the poor attic rooms of servants), he began to thread English into the Hindustani. Sara picked up something about Ram being thankful to the gods for leading him to someone even a little familiar with his home, and that the monkey was a good monkey and the delight of Ram’s life since he had arrived in this bleak place.
"How do you know my language?" Ram asked. Sara saw him take a sidelong look around her poor lodgings, trying to equivocate the brightness of her manner and the simple dullness of the room.
"My mother was maid to a great lady who traveled all over," Sara hurriedly threaded a fantasy out of thin air. "I was companion to the lady's daughter and sat with her while she was tutored and..." she let the sentence end languidly, reminding herself not to enrich her fantasies too much. "I learned many things before our situation changed."
She did not even think to tell him the real story - the young man was already in need of cheering due to his own circumstances; why add to his burdens with her own sad tale? The monkey had jumped joyfully into Ram's arms and now lay against his chest like an ugly baby. "is he..." Sara began when the animal jumped suddenly for the window in the ceiling, chattering in fright as a heavy tread thudded on the stair.
"I must go!" Sara jumped as well, not waiting for the shout that would summon her back to drudgery. "Please go! I..ah... would not want your monkey to get lost on the rooftops!" The creature was, in fact, geckering at Ram through the opening in the roof as if to say, "Lets get out of here!"
"May I come again?" Ram asked as he mounted the rickety table, his face as plaintive as his voice.
Sara had no time to answer as she hurried through the door and down the stairs.
#
Sara saw him again sooner than she ever thought she would.
The children attending Miss Minchin's school were lined up on the sidewalk and were all thrilled to see an opulent carriage parked at the curb. A procession of English and Indian dignitaries were conversing there and parted to let out the occupants. A Raj, followed by a young man resplendent in an English/Oriental costume, disembarked and headed for the stairs of the house next door. Ram, his hair turbaned and looking more weary than princely at the moment, stopped while his father spoke to the small group. Sara did not recognize him at first. Then, he lifted his eyes to survey the girls in line on the street, and they caught sight of each other. Though he was well enough bred that there was no discernible change in his face, she clearly saw his eyes flash and a slight easing of his shoulders. She herself, in her ill-fitting, old work-dress, ducked her face, wanting only to be swallowed by the earth in that moment.
Their next meeting was a surprise as well. This time, he appeared to her at eye-level outside the scullery window! Ram was lying in the damp alley between the houses to pear into the dark recesses of the cellar.
Sara forced open the grimy window hurriedly, horrified that he was besmirching his fine clothes in the dirt of the alley.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, looking around for cook or any other who might see this display.
"Say something in Hindustani," he pleaded sadly. "It has been a long day of English meetings, and I... want to hear it."
"Converse with your own servants!" Sara threw back, angry that he would seek her out and make trouble for both of them.
"My servants have been ordered to speak only English - broken, stupid English!" he suddenly struck the bricks with the flat of his hand. "I am to marry an English heiress, so I must be surrounded by it! Please, a word or I will go mad!"
He truly looked anguished, and Sara feared he would stay until he got his way. "Jaise karna, waise bharna (as you sow, so shall you reap)," She said hurriedly. Ram laughed in delight even as she slammed the window shut on him.
#
"You stupid, stupid monkey! Now we will both freeze." Sara hugged the small warmth of Ram's pet to her chest, a tear trickling down her face into his fur.
She had been dizzy and out of breath all day, overtired as she had been unable to sleep the night before as true cold settled on the city. The cook had been overly abusive when Sara forgot something on her errands and had actually slapped her after finding Sara flushed and dozing in a corner. The cook was sure the young woman had been nipping at the cordial and denied her dinner after that. "To remind ye' tha' what goes in yur belly 'aint yurs for the takin'."
In truth, Sara had been feverish for hours. A nap and nourishing food might have set her right by the next morning. Instead, she was kept toiling later than usual and was racked with chills even before ascending the cold garret. Here, she found that the clever monkey had tripped the window open and was waiting for her in the frigid, drafty room.
Sara had no energy to do more than secure the window. She wrapped her only, thin blanket around them and fell into a stupor on the hard bed.
Strange dreams that came to her in that state included Ram coming through the window. He turned into an angel suffused with light, beckoning great, fluffy clouds to come and fold around her. The clouds became sheep drowsing in a warm meadow, and she was folded against a warm side, the others of the herd snuggling around her to form a comfortable cocoon. But there were words coming from above - muffled, and spoken in Hindustani. If she wanted to understand, she would have to pull herself up out of the dark well of warmth and concentrate on the speaker. How she longed to stay where she was and dig even deeper into the pleasant, muffling oblivion that beckoned.
The sheep next to her suddenly moved, shifting against her in such a way that it was as if she were being shaken...
"Sara. Sara! You must wake! Do not let yourself be taken to Varanasi!"
The city on the Ganges? India's sacred river? She was just able to crack her eyes open to see Ram's face very close. He had swaddled them in a large, down blanket and held her pressed against his own body to try and warm her. The cold was so deep in her now, it almost felt warm...
#
One day, Sun, Moon, and Wind went out to dine with their uncle and aunts Thunder and Lightning. Their mother (one of the most distant Stars you see far up in the sky) waited alone for her children's return.
"Tell it again, Ram." Sara's hand was cold and had no strength to grip his.
"Now both Sun and Wind were greedy and selfish. They enjoyed the great feast that had been prepared for them without a thought of saving any of it to take home to their mother - but the gentle Moon did not forget her. Open..."
Warmth trickled down her throat. Sara was able to sit up for a bit and had immediately begun to demand she be put back where she belonged.
"Miss Minchin..." she sighed before another spoonful stopped her lips.
"If you are good and don't speak, I'll tell it again," Ram promised, stirring the khichdi to cool it.
Of every dainty dish that was brought round, Moon placed a small portion aside, so that mother Star might also have a share in the treat. On their return, their mother, who had kept watch for them all night long with her little bright eye, said, Well, children, what have you brought home for me?
Raju, the little monkey, always slept now against her chest, feeling safe there from the winter that rattled the windows, but could not invade the quiet warmth. He nestled there as Ram's voice lulled Sara to sleep.
Then Sun (who was the eldest) said, 'I have brought nothing home for you. I went out to enjoy myself with my friends - not to fetch a dinner for my mother!' And Wind said, 'Neither have I brought anything home for you, mother. You could hardly expect me to bring a collection of good things for you when I merely went out for my own pleasure.
"We will simply explain," Sara said calmly, matter of fact. "I'm sure Miss Minchin will be grateful"
Ram looked distressed and protested, cursing Miss Minchin in Hindustani. Sara slapped a hand over his mouth.
"None of that! Now, tell it again in English. You need more practice."
But Moon said, Mother, fetch a plate, see what I have brought you. And from her hands, she showered down such a choice dinner as never was seen before.
Then mother Star turned to Sun and said, Because you went out to amuse yourself with your friends, and feasted and enjoyed yourself without any thought of your mother at home--you shall be cursed. Henceforth, your rays shall ever be hot and scorching, and shall burn all that they touch. And men shall hate you, and cover their heads when you appear.
"I think the sun in London would laugh at that." Sara held Ram's hand as they sat in the pale light of that orb on the rooftop. Though still haggard looking, her face had a better flush to it and she now wore Ram's thick sherwani to protected her from the chill breeze. "What did she tell the wind, again?" Sarah laced her fingers through his.
She turned to Wind and said, You also who forgot your mother amid your selfish pleasures - hear your doom. You shall always blow in the hot dry weather, and shall parch and shrivel all living things. And men shall detest and avoid you from this very time.
They stood on another rooftop, dense fog lifting from the nearby river as dawn threatened to bring the day Sara had set to go back. Ram twined his arms around her waist and pressed his face to hers, his dark hair tickling her cheeks as the cold breeze lifted it.
But to Moon she said, 'Daughter, because you remembered your mother, and kept for her a share in your own enjoyment, from henceforth, you shall be ever cool, and calm, and bright.
His skin felt overheated as she put her hands on his cheeks; his brow where it pressed to hers was damp in the cold.
No noxious glare shall accompany your pure rays, and men shall always call you blessed.
Ram kissed her, a soft touch that sent shivers down her spine. It was a kiss born of longing, a whisper of promises, a taste of forever. In that fleeting moment, the world faded away, leaving only the warmth of his lips.
Just then, the wind grew stronger and nudged them. It was as if the story had brought back to that wayward child its own inadequacies. It seemed to catch Ram somehow and made him adjust his weight. There was the sound of a tile cracking, and though Sara clutched wildly at him, they both fell heavily against the sharp slates. Sara lost her grip on Ram as a cascade of roofing let go, clattered over the edge, and took him with it into the dense fog!
The only sound was Sara’s scream and a distant splash from the unseen river.
#
Sara kneeled sanctimoniously, her heart beating to fast with fear and anger. Ram's father, the Indian Raj, raged at Ram's servants in Hindustani:
"Who is this peasant girl screaming stories about the wind taking my son? His only companion was to be the heiress, Sara Crewe, when she was found. Where has Ram gone? You will all be punished...!"
"You donkey! You don't know the worth of salt!" Sara spat in perfect Hindustani. "I am Sara Crewe!"
#
They found, under a bridge near the fateful roof, a pair of gangrels inspecting Ram's soaked sherwani.
Other of his clothes were draped over rocks and straggling shrubs to dry. One imbecile was frightened into babbling by his interrogators and gestured to an area under the trusses.
Sara beat them all up the steep bank to where he lay, naked, in the dirt. Blue lips, skin gray under the once warm brown hue. His hands were stiff and white against his chest. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, repeatedly calling out his name as she wept.
Epilogue
On the Ganges
Holy River,
to see you flowing is to see Brahman,
with eyes fully open.
Plunging into your sacred self
is to be forever embraced,
Mother Ganges.
In all time, and beyond conscious memory,
my body was carried upstream
in your loving arms,
forever protected in you,
Mother Ganges.