They were still laughing as they walked through the entry hall, leaving the heat, noise and dust of the street behind them. Already in competition, swapping phones to see who had the best picture. Japhir thought Sunita’s was the best, she had caught the resigned look of the donkey, hanging securely in his traces while his owner looked on with an arm crooked to his waist and a frown as though he blamed the donkey for not being fatter.
The others laughed on a different note, saying it wasn’t the phone that Japhir favoured.
“What is it? What is it?” Begum Singh, who a genius for finding the worst moment to arrive, appeared behind them, blocking the door. “Where have you been? What are you laughing at?”
[spoiler]The students made their bows, giggles fading away under the grey-haired disapproval of the hostel director. She sliced through their enjoyment of the day as swiftly as a scalpel. Japhir found himself pushed to the front of the group and held out his phone in supplication. “We were at the market, a cart was overloaded.” He essayed a smile, but it was not returned.
“It was just suspended there, in mid-air!” Sunita offered. The cart overbalanced and the donkey hanging calmly, waiting for salvation with the patience of a four-legged Buddha.
Begum Singh sneered at the phone without touching it. “And this is how you spend your study time, laughing at unfortunate creatures?”
Mutti pushed his way through the other students to face her, not quite as far forward as Japhir. “We must have a break sometimes, we are working very hard.”
“You are in the most prestigious residential programme in the whole of-“
“Yes, yes.” Mutti raised his hands in surrender, they had all heard the litany many times before. “But even the great professor allows us an afternoon in the marketplace every fortnight.”
A murmur of agreement grew in volume and quickly faded under another glare from the Begum. The students shuffled closer together, Japhir and Mutti gratefully rejoining the flock. Like a sheepdog, she herded them before her; not needing to bite, just needing them to think she could.
The donkey was gone the next time they were allowed to trade a few hours study for the freedom of the market. Japhir had joked with Sunita that it might have stayed there forever, another attraction for the foreign tourists to ‘ah’ over. Its owner could paint it in colours as bright as Begum Singh’s saris. Sunita had laughed with him, suggesting the wheels would have been stolen off the cart while the owner sought help, then she grew serious. “The donkey would not have raised the alarm!” No more than Begum Singh had raised the alarm over their frivolity.
But cart, owner and beast had all gone, the cart must have been lightened enough for the donkey to touch ground and begin working once more. As much as he tried, Japhir couldn’t make a joke out of the owner being torn between delivering his still-carted goods and protecting the remainder. Sunita just sighed and remembered her brother having been robbed in her home market.
They still shared the photos, the professor himself had smiled when they showed him. He had issued no punishments, made no recriminations. Bey Singh had smiled his ‘I’ve got a secret’ smile and asked Sunita to recap the last lesson.
She had stammered her reply at first and Japhir had been gratified when she looked for his approval. He’d grinned and nodded to encourage her, inadvertently letting her go ahead with an incorrect interpretation of the coursework.
The professor corrected her gently and her face flamed in embarrassment. She did not look at Japhir again that morning. He tried to apologise after lunch, following Sunita from computer room to library to study room, round and around while she pretended he wasn’t there.
Mutti was the first to leave; a visit from the family after the first exams; hushed conversation with the professor; bags packed by Begum Singh while the rest of the students ate lunch. Mutti slipped out of the mansion and no student saw him go.
They did not speak about him, the students. It was as though he had never been one of them at all. Japhir went through the photos on his phone, not deleting every photo of Mutti, just the ones where he was in the foreground. Later, people will ask who my friends were and I will not remember his name.
They had been told, when they were accepted for this most prestigious course, they had been warned that only a few would stay to complete it.
The rains came and went, taking a double handful of students with them. Washed out, the others joked. Their laughter was strained and the joke was told with an air of defiance.
“Come on Sunita, it’s market day.”
“I am studying, Japhir.
“Please, we’ll look for the donkey, buy it some oats so it will be heavier.”
“I am sorry, Japhir. I must study.”
Japhir had to study, too, harder than he had ever done. He, who had sailed through school without effort, now circled from computer room to library to study room. He was used to working hard for what he wanted, none of the students came from wealth. It was difficult applying his good work ethic to the only thing that had ever been easy.
It did not seem fair.
“Your father works too hard.” His mother informed him by email.
“Your sister insists she will marry for love, someone rich enough to hire a cook so she does not need to learn.”
“Your grandmother is no better, her hips, her eyes.”
“Your uncle begs for help. We have nothing to spare.”
“Your brother is lazy.”
“Your mother is so proud, work hard.”
Japhir felt the ownership of them all; his father, his sister – all their faults were his fault.
Other students had gone. They heard the sounds of festival outside the mansion walls while they narrowed their essays down, ever finer, seeking approval from the professor.
He smiled at them, secretively, always two steps ahead. No matter how well they performed their tricks, he had seen it all before. He could demolish an entire theory with a sentence, a look, a flick of his finger. They studied harder, wrote more furiously, disappeared silently when Begum Singh packed their bags.
Japhir looked at his early notes, seeing what he’d believed to be impeccable, wonderful logic reduced to a desperate grasping at straws. His most recent work showed marked growth. He knew he was doing well, one of the brighter students the professor had said in an unguarded moment. This gave Japhir no comfort, complacency would win him no accolades, just another smile.
No-one took an afternoon off anymore. No-one laughed over pictures of the donkey, no-one flashed their phone and joked about hanging around the market place for the afternoon.
“Our guests today could be your future employers.” Begum Singh advised them over breakfast. The remaining students looked at her, dumb as animals. “That is, if you complete your coursework to a satisfactory standard.” She added with studied malice. They were less than half the number that had begun. They had a hunted look about them.
Japhir enjoyed the visit, as much as he enjoyed anything these days. Charm had always been one of his reliable tools. The foreigners asked simplistic questions that required complex answers. Japhir performed well, keeping his speech slow so they would understand him.
“How would you feel about travelling?”
Ecstatic? Free? Over the moon and far away? “I am happy to undertake any endeavour that is required to fulfil my duties.”
He saw Sunita with an older man, her bangles and earrings caught flashes of sunlight as she gestured and bowed. The man nodded his approval and touched her arm before moving on to another student.
The professor chatted with the foreigners like he was one of them, all quiet vowels and flat intonation. They shook his hand and laughed at his wit. Japhir made a note to buy a western suit when he got his job. They stare at his dhoti like it’s the circus master’s costume!
Begum Singh gave them no answers when they asked how they’d done. She smiled, not secretively like the professor, but openly gloating over her withheld information.
“You think you are this close to working for them.” She said, holding her fingers a hair’s breadth apart. “Hah!”
They heard no more of the foreigners. Nothing more could be done, it had been a visit for entertainment, not recruitment. See the dancing monkeys, how they strive for the promise of food. Don’t give them crumbs, not yet, let them dance some more. Japhir saw the mansion with new eyes, an old dilapidated building with a once important academic and his wife taking in students to make ends meet.
“Please, Japhir.” Sunita said, her hands pressed together and head bowed. “I must pass this course – my family.”
But everyone’s family had the same claim. None of them came from wealth.
“No-one must know.” He said, almost silently. The papers might have fallen from his bag as he rose from the table. No name, no handwriting to trace the notes back from. He would not risk sending her the original file.
That would be time-stamped. She would know when they’d been written.
He did not watch her during the next class, as she received the full impact of the secret smile and the dismissive flick. He could imagine the flaming of her face.
She did not accuse him afterwards. What could she have said?
They were close to an exam. It was easier after that. Japhir deleted more photos from his phone, telling himself that he needed the space. He stared at the picture of the donkey, wondering if it understood what had happened. Did it relish the new experience? Was it enjoying the view? Too shocked to react? Terrified into the semblance of apathy?
An email arrived during his final exams. It started as a wish of good luck, but soon descended into the litany of relative’s needs to be laid at his feet.
He waited for the results with the others, not too much of a crowd around the notice board. The professor had carried this tradition from his foreign schooling, this posting of scores for all to see and compare.
Japhir had come second in the class and the shame made bile rise in his throat. He joined in the boasting, how he would be the first to find a job, paid better than the others, too.
Bey Singh had waited until each had seen their results before he cleared his throat. “Well done each and all of you. Now the real work begins!”
All the months of intensive study seemed to swirl through Japhir’s mind, as busy as the market place during a festival. He felt dizzy and sick, even before the other students carried him with them, a pack of howling release out of the mansion and into the world.
He felt his feet leaving the ground and understood the donkey’s resigned acceptance at last.
[/spoiler]