Free Cinnamon Gardens by Shyam Selvadurai Page A

the room to her son.
    She took his arm. “My dream was prophetic,” she said in a low tone. “Your brother is in trouble.”
    Balendran stared at her in surprise and dismay.
    “We heard through the bank manager, Mr. Govind, who gives him that monthly allowance your Appa sends. He was climbing the stairs at work, became breathless, and fainted.”
    “But is he all right now?”
    She nodded.
    Balendran sighed with relief. “It’s probably nothing, Amma. Just tiredness.”
    “Nothing? How can you say nothing? He should go and get an examination. But I know how your brother is. So stubborn. As a mother, I feel helpless. If he were here, I would have forced him to see a doctor.”
    Balendran could tell that she was suggesting again that he renew contact, but he chose to ignore the hint.
    Nalamma sighed, “And his son, Seelan.” She waved her hand to encompass the ballroom, “I can’t help thinking of what he has been denied.”
    The Mudaliyar, resplendent in a black dinner jacket and white bow tie, entered at this moment, putting an end to Nalamma and Balendran’s conversation. They went forward to greet him.
    Annalukshmi, even though she knew it was rude, had listened keenly to their conversation. The girls at Lotus Cottage were of course familiar with the story of their uncle’s expulsion from Brighton and his marriage to a woman who had worked in Brighton’s kitchen.
    Annalukshmi had quickly become intrigued by the romance of the story. An avid reader at that time of Gothic and romance novels, she had seen that her uncle’s story was a strange instance of real life imitating the world of fiction. Later, as a girl of fifteen, her romantic feelings about the story had come to fix themselves on her cousin, Seelan. The fact that he was a mysterious, doomed young man, in exile from his family heritage, raised him to the level of a hero of Gothic fiction or medieval romance. Annalukshmi smiled now to think that she had actually read those books and had thought of her cousin in that way. Like most revealed secrets, the novelty of it had worn off over the years.
    The first cars could be heard coming up the driveway, and everyone began to leave the ballroom. Annalukshmi, as she came down the stairs, saw that among the first guests were Nancy and Miss Lawton. With a smile of pleasure, she went to greet them. Before she could reach them, however, Miss Lawton was cornered by one of the other guests, an old pupil who was now married to a member of the Legislative Council. The woman, a well-known doyenne of Cinnamon Gardens society, shyly introduced herself to Miss Lawton. When the headmistress immediately remembered her, she blushed with pleasure.
    Nancy and Annalukshmi exchanged looks and smiled. This would likely be the pattern for the rest of Miss Lawton’s evening.
    The Wijewardena family were regular guests at the Mudaliyar’s birthday dinner. The son, F. C. Wijewardena, was Balendran’s best friend. Their friendship went all the way back to when they had studied at the Colombo Academy. They had left together for England, as well.
    It was a ritual at the Mudaliyar’s annual dinner for F. C., his wife, Sriyani, Balendran, and Sonia to gather for a chat on the side verandah, outside the drawing room where the party was in progress. Since most of the guests were of the Mudaliyar’s generation, they had very little in common with them.
    F. C. was a prominent member of the Ceylon National Congress, and they had no sooner sat down in the verandah chairs when he brought up the subject of the Donoughmore Commission and the new constitution.
    “Well, the gold rush will be on in two weeks.”
    “Gold rush?” Sonia asked.
    “Yes,” F. C. replied. “All this hullabaloo reminds me of a gold rush. Everyone running to stake their claim, to carve out their piece of the land.”
    He brought out a tortoiseshell cigarette case from the pocket of his coat. “Divisions are appearing where I didn’t even know there were any.”