The World Beyond Read Online Free PDF

kaka, Nayansukh’s uncle. Salim tugged Afreen’s rein and brought her to a halt.
    While the rest of the soldiers stood still, Ramu kaka walked up to the dais, his hands joined in supplication.
    ‘You’re late,’ barked the commanding officer who now stood over him.
    ‘It not my fault—’ Ramu kaka muttered.
    THWACK!
    The officer had slapped Ramu kaka right across his cheek. Salim was aghast and looked at Ahmed in disbelief. Ahmed was equally bewildered. With an exclamation of ‘Ya Ali’, Salim pulled Afreen’s rein. He was about to charge into the parade ground when Ahmed put a restraining hand on his arm.
    ‘Don’t lose your cool, Salim mia,’ he said quietly. ‘Remember, this is the Company’s army, not your Abba Huzoor’s.’
    ‘But how can that firangi slap a man double his age?’ Salim asked. ‘Does he have no respect?’
    The commanding officer raised his hand again. Ramu kaka cowered. Just then another hand stopped the officer’s hand in mid flight. It was Nayansukh’s.
    ‘This man is old enough to be your father,’ Nayansukh hissed slowly through clenched teeth. ‘I will break your hand if it goes anywhere near Ramu kaka again.’
    The commanding officer turned on Nayansukh. ‘How dare you, you uncouth barbari—’
    The other firangi soldier, who had been quietly standing on the podium until now, hastily came between the two hostile men. ‘Let it go, sir. Don’t lower yourself fighting with a native. It’s not worth it, sir.’
    The commanding officer looked disdainfully at Nayansukh as he straightened his collars. Nayansukh stared back at him defiantly, twirling his moustache. ‘Son of a pig,’ the commanding officer spat as he walked back to the podium. ‘Parade, dismiss,’ he bellowed.
    Ramu kaka was visibly shaking. Nayansukh took his hand and led him out of the parade ground.
    Salim shook his head angrily as he and Ahmed started trotting down the road again. ‘These firangis need to be taught a lesson,’ he eventually said.

    Later that afternoon, Salim sat at the edge of the water, a fishing rod in hand. This was not a good time for fish, the Gomti having shrunk to half its size, but an excellent time for fishing. You could almost catch them with your bare hands while wading through the shallow end.
    He turned up his nose as he watched his servant attaching the smelly bait to the hook of his fishing rod. He looked at Ahmed. He was sitting patiently, waiting for a fish to bite, humming a tune. Salim smiled at him as he threw the line into the water. Ahmed had already forgotten how he had spoken to him yesterday. It was typical of him never to hold a grudge. He was now trying to balance his fishing rod between his knees, as he reached out for another paan.
    ‘Ahmed, stop chewing so much paan else all your teeth will fall out. No one will want to marry you then,’ said Salim.
    ‘Start lighting the fire, Salim mia. I think I’ve caught our dinner,’ said Ahmed as he started hauling in his line.
    ‘So we are having grilled sandals for dinner, are we?’ Salim hooted, when he saw Ahmed’s catch. A wooden sandal. It must belong to one of the priests who bathed in the river every morning.
    ‘These priests should be banned,’ Ahmed replied, as he disentangled the slimy sandal from his fishing rod and threw it back in the river, while Salim continued to laugh at him.
    Suddenly he grew serious. ‘Ahmed, what do you make of the rumours? About the Company taking over Avadh?’
    ‘Don’t worry, Salim mia. They’re just that – rumours. Annexing Avadh? Not a chance. There’s no need for that.’ He clicked his betel box shut and placed it next to his cap, on the grass. ‘After all, it’s a golden goose which lays an egg for the Company whenever it needs funds. And right now it needs loads of money for all the wars it’s engaged in.’
    ‘But what if they decide they want all the golden eggs at once?’ Salim asked.
    ‘That’d be foolish. The people love the nawab. They