Delhi, India – 23 December 1912
Anna Fraser stood waiting on the ornate balcony of one of thehavelimansion houses lining the route. At eleven in the morning, the streets had been washed and sprayed with oil, but still the wind-swirled dust irritated the eyes of the gathering crowd. The rows of wide-spreading neem and peepal trees along the centre of ancient Chandni Chowk blew about wildly, as if in defiance, while crows added their voices, cawing and cackling high above the narrow lanes fanning out from the main square.
Anna held up her white parasol and nervously glanced down at the vendors selling everything from fresh sherbet to fried fish with chilli. There were strange-looking fruits, chiffon sarees, books and jewellery, and, behind fine latticed windows, women losing their eyesight embroidering delicate silk shawls. Where the smell of sandalwood permeated the air, apothecaries made fortunes from oddly coloured oils and potions. Snake oil, David called them, though Anna had learnt that some were obtained from crushed lizards and the colour was that of the pomegranate. It was said that whatever you desired you could find it here in the heart of the city.
Whatever you desired! Oh the irony of that, she thought.
She turned towards the spot where the Viceroy would soon appear seated on an elephant, accompanied by his wife the Vicerine. Bursting with pride, Anna’s assistant district officer husband, David, had informed her that he too would be riding an elephant, one of fifty-three, all picked to follow immediately behind the Viceroy at the head of the procession. Delhi was to take over from Calcutta as the centre of British Government, and this was the day Viceroy Lord Hardinge would be sealing the deal by making a ceremonial state entry into the old walled city, starting from the main Delhi railway station on Queen’s Road.
Anna identified the sound of canaries and nightingales hanging in dozens of cages gracing the frontages of the shops below and, further away, the harsh noise of the few tram cars still running. Then she looked down at the riot of oriental colour as the teeming crowd continued to assemble. She called to her daughter, Eliza.
‘Come now, darling. They’ll be here in a few minutes.’
Eliza had been sitting quietly reading to pass the time, but rushed out at the sound of her mother’s voice.
‘Where, where?’
‘Ants in your pants? Again. Just be patient,’ Anna said and glanced at her watch. Eleven thirty.
Eliza shook her head. She had been waiting too long and with this level of unprecedented excitement it was hard when you were only ten.
‘It must be nearly time to see Daddy now,’ she said.
Anna sighed. ‘Look at you. Your dress is already crumpled.’
Eliza glanced down at her frilly white dress, especially made for today. She had tried her best to keep it nice, yet somehow she and dresses never quite got on. It wasn’t that she didn’t try to keep them clean but there were always such interesting things to do. Luckily her father never minded if she ended up in a mess. She loved him ferociously; handsome and funny, he always had a warm hug for her and a wrapped sweet lurking in the fluff at the bottom of his shirt pocket.
Behind the natives the British, arrayed in pale cottons and linens and seated in stands lining the street, seemed colourless by comparison. Despite the splendour of the day Anna couldn’t help thinking that many of the Indians looked listless, though perhaps it was because of the bitterly cold wind blowing in from the Himalayas. At least the British looked suitably excited. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of ginger and ghee in the air and, drumming her fingers on the railing, continued to wait. David had promised so much when he suggested she come out to India with him, but with each passing year the magic had soured. Down below, fidgeting children began to break free. A very young toddler had stepped out of the line and into the path where the procession would pass on its way to the fort.
Anna tried to work out who the child’s mother might be. How careless to allow such a young child to be so far from her, she thought. She spotted a woman, wearing a bright emerald skirt and matching shawl, who seemed to be lost in thought while staring up at the balcony, and it crossed Anna’s mind she could be the child’s mother. It was almost as if the woman was looking directly at her and, as their eyes met, Anna raised a hand to alert her to the child’s plight. Just as she did, the woman dropped her gaze and stepped out to draw her wayward child back into the safety of the crowd.
As Anna watched the hordes flowing in below, she was glad to be set apart from the complex mix of toothless hags, their heads and faces covered, the lone beggars in threadbare blankets, the mixed traders and their children, plus the local residents wrapped up in shawls, all of whom seemed to be screeching at each other. As cats prowled the street, heads raised to watch the pigeons flocking in the branches of the trees, middle-aged men looked on importantly, casting their eyes now and then on the so-called dancing girls, and in the background the voices of children singing lifted Anna’s heart a little.
She couldn’t help but be aware of the past pervading every inch of the historic square, seeping even into the bones of the buildings. Everyone knew this was where the processions of the emperors had taken place, where the Moghul Princes had pranced on their dancing horses, and where the British had come flaunting plans to build a powerful new Imperial Delhi. Since the King’s arrival in Delhi a year before, peace had triumphed, with no political murders at all; hence it had been deemed unnecessary to engage special precautionary measures to police the day.
She heard the loud boom of guns signalling the imminent arrival of the Viceroy. The guns sounded again and a roar went up from the crowd. Now people hung from all the windows and balconies, heads turned towards the repeated booming. Anna experienced a jolt of something unaccountable, almost a premonition, she would think after it had happened, but for now she shook her head. She glanced at her watch again, then glimpsed the biggest elephant she had ever seen, carrying a splendid open-topped silverhowdah, or seat, from where Lord Hardinge and his wife viewed the scene. The blue-grey elephant itself was decorated in the flamboyant native way, painted with coloured patterns and covered in trappings of velvet and gold. The procession had already passed through the Queen’s Gardens, where the public had not been allowed to collect; now, as they entered Chandni Chowk, the cheering reached a crescendo.
‘I can’t see Daddy yet,’ Eliza tried shouting above the din. ‘He is there, isn’t he?’
‘Goodness, are you not the most impatient child who ever lived?’
Eliza gazed down at the street, where dozens of children were attempting to surge forward. She raised her brows. ‘I don’t think so. Look at them, and their fathers aren’t even in the procession.’
She leant out as far as she dared, pressing her hand into the railings and jumping, and, as the long line of elephants gradually came into sight, she could hardly contain her joy.
‘Be careful,’ her mother scolded. ‘If you insist on leaping about like that you’ll fall out.’
Behind the Viceroy were two specially chosen district officers, then the Princes of Rajputana and the Punjab chiefs on even more elaborately decorated elephants. They were surrounded by their own native soldiers, carrying swords and lances and wearing the usual ceremonial armour, and behind them would come the rest of the British Government on plainer elephants. Eliza knew the order off by heart. Her father had explained every moment of the day and she had insisted that he pause and look up to wave at her as his elephant reached the spot beneath their balcony. The wind had now dropped, the sun had come out and it had turned into a perfect morning. The moment had finally come.
Anna glanced at her watch again. Eleven forty-five. Bang on time. Across the street the woman in emerald now held the small child in her arms so that it might see. That’s better, Anna thought.
Loud cheers broke out from the British, with shouts ofHurrah!andGod save the King!While Lord Hardinge saluted back, Eliza spotted her father. She waved excitedly and, as the Viceroy’s elephant took another few steps forward, David Fraser’s animal was made to pause so that he might fulfil his daughter’s wish. As he glanced up at the balcony to return her wave, a shattering explosion, just like the massive roar of a cannon, instantly silenced the crowd. The buildings seemed to shake and the entire procession came to a shuddering halt. Anna and Eliza stared in shock as flying particles and white smoke belched outwards. Feeling as if she’d been punched in the chest, Eliza rubbed her watering eyes and leapt away from the rail. She couldn’t see what had happened, but as the air trembled and the smoke cleared a little her mother gasped.
‘Mummy, what is it?’ Eliza cried out. ‘What is happening?’
No reply.
‘Mummy!’
