Indian Spice

A note to the reader. This story is written from the perspective of a young girl living in the 1880's. As such much of the language and descriptions relating to the body and sexual activity are those common to the time and not those you might be used to.

I make no claim to being an expert on India, its customs or its religions, so please accept it purely as the entertainment intended.

Indian Spice

ONE

The year was eighteen eighty-one and I'd started upon a great adventure that would change my life forever. Of course, at this point, I had no idea what lay in wait for me. I was naive and innocent even by my cosseted English standards. But I was also not without some bravery or the understanding of my necessity that left me with but one option to secure my future.

With the death of my husband from Cholera the summer before I'd found myself widowed after little more than a year of marriage.

He'd been a kind man if a little cold in affection. But then he had been a lot older than me and perhaps that was just his way. I was but a child at nineteen while George had been a mature man of the world in his early forties. His wealth and connections had dazzled me and, just as importantly, my widowed father, who'd been keen to see me wedded into a good family.

Within weeks of my marriage, I understood why he had been so keen when he was also taken by the good Lord.

And so it was that in the spring of that year I found myself alone and in desperate need of a long-term plan to avoid a slow decline into poverty. I had inherited a tidy sum, but not enough that without further income I could live for many years as I had done to this point. Furthermore, I was still young. Just twenty-two. I was not ready for life as a spinster. But there were so few suitors in my home country so I'd decided to do as many women had done and seek a new husband in the Empire where all the eligible bachelors were making their fortunes.

It was a brazen decision. I had no experience of life outside England. Little outside of Woking. To board a boat destined for a country I knew little about other than newspaper tales of heroism and imperial prestige was to many an undertaking of madness. But I embarked on it with relish.

My journey to India took three months, sailing from Southampton. An arduous time at sea with short stops at St Helena and Aden. For guidance, I had only a copy of the somewhat wordily titled book 'A Few Words of Advice on Traveling and its Requirements Addressed to Ladies'. I'd read it cover to cover several times by my arrival in Bombay. I also had my old Bible. Well worn, it had been a source of comfort for as long as I could remember.

I'd heard that sometimes ladies found shipboard romance. I was open to the idea, but it wasn't to be for me. Perhaps my shyness was a barrier as there was no shortage of eligible bachelors on board. Young gentlemen keen to find wealth with new business opportunities, others engaged in Her Majesty's duties of colonial administration or attached to the military. I felt confident once I reached my destination things would be different. Away from the stuffiness of England I would blossom and find myself more at ease.

Eventually, we docked in a noisy, busy Bombay and I embarked on the journey across land to my eventual destination. First I travelled by train, which were it not for the unbearable crowding of natives and the clear blue skies the engine poured its steam into, could have come straight from an English mainline. Next, I went on by horse-drawn carriage, much more happy in my own company.

India was how I imagined it in many ways. Such great numbers of people, the constant background babble of languages I didn't speak. Scavenging dogs that seemed to have no owners and cattle, herded along roads that were no more than trodden down dirt tracks. Several times I spied Elephants employed to clear new fields or as transport for dignitaries while their mahouts guided them. Only once had I seen one of these beasts. On a visit to the London Zoo as a child, I witnessed their resident elephant, Jumbo. A giant of a creature by all accounts, but here they seemed more majestic than ever.

India was also greener than I had expected. And wetter. Fields of rice, wheat and cotton stretched to the horizon. Amongst them were simple dwellings that housed farm workers. Just mud or unfired bricks with straw roofs. Bungha's I subsequently learnt they were called. Then in the towns, more substantial brick-built homes. And Colonial Government buildings filled with Indians working as clerks under the direction of British officials.

All of it fascinated a young girl like me. It was a world that had only existed in books and newspaper articles for me until then.

And then of course there was the unbearable heat and a constant annoying buzz of insects. There was also a smell that was distinctly foreign to me. An aroma of cooking fires laced with exotic herbs and spices, but also a stench of garbage, animal excrement and human urine. Most unpleasant.

I found lodgings with an English family. Just a room, while I took my meals with the older couple who owned the small homestead.

It was on the edge of a small but busy town and close to the garrison that provided ample employment for Indian servants and clerical staff. And it was there I hoped to find a future husband.

Few residents were English other than the soldiers. Just a handful of older couples like the Coolidge's, mostly ex-service who had decided to remain after leaving the army.

The food was a new experience. A mixture of English and Indian cuisine, all heavily spiced. It certainly wasn't unpleasant but it would take a while to become accustomed to such rich flavours and the abundance of rice in place of potatoes.

"I hope to find a position as a Governess and eventually perhaps a husband." I explained.

"There are many fine Officers at the Garrison who are in need of an English woman of good breeding. Perhaps you will find one there."

"I do hope so."

I'm not sure that Mrs Coolidge approved of my aims. Either she felt I was cavalier or perhaps mercenary, I was unsure which. But she didn't voice her opinions.

"The married officers with family and children here may also be interested in your services as a tutor." She added.

Mr Coolidge said very little. For that, I was pleased as I found him a little unsettling. I think the sight of a young lady in his home stirred feelings inside him that I'd rather not think about. The idea that he may see me as an object of desire was very unpleasant and raised memories of my duties as a wife to George.

Sex had been a chore to be undertaken perhaps weekly. I was naive but did my duty as he required. Mostly it was the same. I would lift my dress and remove my undergarments. Then as I sat on the side of the bed he would face me and hold my legs apart while he partook in that activity that men seemed to so enjoy. Occasionally he would ask me to face away and bend over. I'd support myself on the large chest at the bottom of our bed while he entered me from behind.

I can't say it was an unpleasant experience, but certainly, he found more pleasure in it than I did. I'd heard that it could be much more pleasurable for a woman than I experienced, but I put that down to rumour from the uninitiated and the imagination of street girls and trollops wishing to make their trade sound more exciting.

I just accepted that it was how it was and I was resigned that I would have to perform similar duties to my future husband when I found him. And of course, it would be especially necessary if I was to have a family. So far I hadn't been blessed which given my circumstances was not such a bad thing.

The Garrison held its first dance of my stay at the end of the month. Dressed in my most extravagant wear, I accompanied my Landlord and Lady on the short walk to the Garrison house.

It was a grand building of white Stone. Very imperial and imposing.

The sound of strings filled the grounds as we arrived. Well-dressed Indian servants greeted us and led us up the steps where a very posh-sounding gentleman announced us.

"Mr and Mrs Coolidge.

And Miss Rayne Phillips."

It sounded all very exciting and made me feel as though I was important, although I wasn't. I held my head high and entered the hall conscious of eyes upon me.

I spent the evening moving amongst the throng of people, mostly military, politely acknowledging anyone who looked my way while trying to catch the eye of any young man of suitable rank.

I had one or two ladies as competition I noted, but I was far prettier than them. That may sound pretentious but I was confident it was true. It didn't however, help me when it came to finding a dance partner. It seemed a demure composure was a hindrance and that I might need to be more outgoing if I was to be successful.

In the few days I'd been here I'd already become accustomed to the reality that there were two India's. The masses who lived simply, farming and tending their animals, and a much wealthier class that stood as equals with their British masters. Sometimes above.

The man I saw now was evidently the latter. A handsome, upright individual with bright attentive eyes and radiant complexion. He seemed to be studying me carefully as my gaze fell upon him.

I smiled back with a slight blush as he nodded an unexpected acknowledgement of me before turning away to talk to a high-ranking soldier.

It was then that I noticed I was being watched from another quarter. Not by one of the upright young military men as I had hoped, but by an elegant Indian woman. She certainly wasn't a servant and seemed to have a high position amongst the people here. Everyone that passed her gave deference. English and Indian alike. Almost as they might our dear Queen Victoria at a palace banquet. Not that I'd ever seen Her Majesty.

I wasn't so good at placing the ages of Native women, or indeed the men, but I guessed this lady was in her early to mid-thirties. Extremely beautiful with richly coloured clothes. Gold jewellery adorned her neck and wrists. Two fringe-style earrings hung just clear of long tied-back, black hair that gleamed with a natural sheen.

To my surprise she came over and stood next to me, making a show of looking out over the waltz being danced before us.

"It is an exquisite party wouldn't you say?"

She spoke well, excellent English with only a hint of accent.

"Yes, it is." I answered.

"Alas, I haven't been asked to dance yet."

"Beautiful ladies often scare young men away. They fear they aren't worthy enough."

She continued surveying the hall as if judging.

"Perhaps they aren't."

I didn't see it that way.

"Most here are British army officers. I'm sure the majority are honest and upstanding." I countered.

I feared I might be offending her, but I would not stand by if her intention was to be anti-British. I would not countenance that.

It seemed I needn't have feared as she turned to me and warmed.

"My name is Maya."

"That's a very beautiful name." I said kindly.

"It means illusion in Sanskrit. Also compassion and wisdom."

I couldn't help but think that with her perfect complexion and natural beauty, she might indeed be an illusion. But I was forgetting my manners.

"Sorry." I said shaking off the momentary awe that held me in silence.

"I'm Rayne.

I've no idea what it means. But I'm pleased to meet you."

Maya's face was inscrutable. I found it hard to fathom her, but she smiled genuinely and her brown eyes seemed to look deeply into my soul.

"In means queen. A name fit for royalty." She said calmly.

"Really?" I was quite taken aback by how this native girl could know anything of an English name but then I was already suspecting she was anything but an ordinary woman, in any society.

"You are new to India." she smiled.

"Does it show so easily?"

Her eyes smiled almost as strongly as her mouth as they lowered to my hands before coming back to hold my gaze.

"The English protect their pale complexion from the Indian sun but eventually it shades the skin. Yours is still the colour of a woman who has lived under rain and cloud."

"It doesn't always rain in England." I protested gently.

"And the sun doesn't always shine in India. But perhaps it will shine on you if you are open to new experiences."

I started to view this Maya as quite the sophisticated lady and swallowed back a sudden fear she was more than my match. However, she was the first person here to show me friendship and I was already falling under whatever spell she cast.

I endeavoured to turn the attention away from myself.

"Tell me. Who is that fine gentleman?" I asked pointing out the Indian man I'd spied on earlier.

"That is the Maharaja."

I'm not sure she even looked where I indicated. She just knew who I meant.

"An Indian prince. How exciting."

I wondered if I might have the opportunity to meet him, but then I was just another unimportant person amongst many.

"He is at all the parties. He's a big supporter of British rule and is close to the Lieutenant-Governor."

"And which one is that?" I just didn't know anyone here apart from the old couple, Mr and Mrs Coolidge, who rented me my room.

Maya looked around.

"That one." She pointed unashamedly at a greying rather portly uniformed man.

"He's not as dashing as your Maharaja." I joked.

Maya smiled again.

"Not the husband type?"

I blushed. Was it that obvious why I was here? I didn't deny it.

"I would hope for better."

She turned to face me. Piercing brown eyes that portrayed deep intelligence and a depth of understanding, as she'd already demonstrated to me.

"Why don't you come to my residence for afternoon tea tomorrow? There is much I would like to explain about my country, and... perhaps help you in your quest.

Just ask to be taken to the Villa."

"The Villa."

"Yes. Shall we say three o'clock?"

Maya's aura was powerful. It gripped me as firmly as Britain held India itself. I was thrilled to be invited and had no intention of saying no. But I was also conscious of how hard I would have found it had I wished to.

"Yes. That would be lovely."

"Excellent."

Again that knowing smile. Then she was gone back into the crowd, vanishing like an illusion played by a street magician. Just as her name had implied.

I was quite in awe of her already and was pleased that I would see her again tomorrow. I just felt a little unworthy. Why would someone so beautiful, and evidently wealthy so quickly befriend someone such as me?

"May I have this hand?"

I spun around to the voice to find a dashing young Captain waiting for my answer.

"Captain Andrews Ma'am. Henry."

I held my hand out for him to take as I forgot my new friend and concentrated on my search.

"Thank you. You may." I responded as a warm smile spread along my lips.

The rest of the evening passed much too quickly. Captain Andrews was attentive and the perfect gentleman. He danced exquisitely and talked without fear. Even when he walked me home he behaved impeccably. In England, such a thing would have been scandalous, but here the normal rules of etiquette were greatly relaxed.

"I bid you good evening Miss Phillips.

I do hope we will meet again."

"I'm sure we will." I responded as he kissed my hand.

TWO

She had said residence. A villa. I don't know what I had expected, but certainly not the grand white house with domed Bengal roofs that greeted me when I stepped from the rickshaw. It was more like a royal palace. A blending of Indian architecture and English formal gardens.

A long path bordered by well-maintained lawns ran straight from where I stood, past richly coloured, red and gold' tents up to wide steps. Already a servant was walking towards me.

"Welcome Miss Rayne. You are expected.

He was a native, dressed exactly as I imagined an Indian manservant would be. Pressed, pale European clothing while a turban encased his hair.

"Thank you."

Inside was much cooler. Everywhere smelt of jasmine and roses. So much more pleasant than the stench of people and cooking that filled the town. High ceilings and large windows, heavy wooden carved furniture and decorative drapes dominated by intensely coloured patterns of elephants and birds. It was a picture of Indian decadence.

Maya appeared as if from nowhere, again reminding me of an illusion. She looked just as elegant as she had at the party. Dressed extravagantly in what I'd learnt was called a salwar kameez she waited for me to approach her.

"Thank you again for inviting me." I offered politely.

She put her hands together in a greeting and lowered her head ever so slightly.

"Come. Tea is being served for us."

I followed her into what I assumed was the Indian equivalent of a drawing room. In reality, a large hall bathed in bright sunlight from enormous windows that emphasised the opulence of the furniture. It gleamed with a magical quality under the foreign sun.

It was surreal to sit in a palace drinking tea from Staffordshire pottery with a native. But despite Maya's heritage, she could just as easily have been any lady in a London Townhouse. She had the manners and deportment of any well-to-do lady I had ever met.

Her clothing was a joy to the eye. Strong reds, golds and greens in elaborate patterns, all amplifying her natural beauty. I felt surprisingly plain next to her in my lightly coloured bodice. My fair hair was up at the sides but hung down in ringlets at the back while Maya's was so black and straight, flowing down her back like a dark waterfall.

"This is such an extravagant home." I observed.

"It's most fabulous."

Maya looked coy for a moment. Then came the revelation.

"It is the residence of the Maharaja."

I gasped. It hadn't occurred to me that there was another owner of this beautiful residence other than the mysterious Maya.

"That is him." She pointed up at a large picture.

"The man you saw last night."

A handsome face looked back down at me. A regal man in brightly coloured clothes. He looked more like a god in the portrait but no less attractive. Inexplicably I felt a twinge of desire. Lewd thoughts that made no sense rushed through my mind. I pushed the thoughts aside putting it down to the heat and the unaccustomed surroundings.

"This is his palace?"

For a moment I was confused. I glanced at the servants standing silently in wait to remind myself this woman was not one of them.

"My husband." She clarified reading my bemused look.

"So, you're a princess?"

"Maharani is the correct term."

"Oh."

I was shocked and felt small and unimportant

"I think there has been some mistake. I'm no one special. Perhaps I shouldn't be here." I felt like a fake. An imposter. Out of my depth.

Maya placed her hand on mine, smiling that reassuring smile of hers again.

"You are here because I asked you to be here. What we are is not so important as who we are."

She glanced downward.

"To our shame, the cast system, much like the class structure in your culture defines people's worth. I don't adhere to that more than convention demands of me. And as women, we often find ourselves at the wrong position in the hierarchy."

"Yes. We do."

I felt a little more settled at her kindness.

"Have you finished your tea?

Perhaps you would like to see a place where women are not subservient to men?"

"Does such a place exist?"

"Yes. Right here in this house."

I was intrigued.

The Maharani, Maya, led me through her home. It was even more expansive than I'd realised from outside with corridors that seemed to go on forever. At the end of one such corridor, Maya stopped near to where a large man stood on guard. He did not acknowledge us but I felt his eyes assessing me. A guard.