Mrs. Chatterjee’s Leo:

(I borrowed not the opening line but the whole paragraph from Maugham’s “Of Human Bondage”, an opening that has me mesmerized till date.Let me also tell you, in this connection, that this is a first in my life as anything copied or stolen from another writer’s works is tantamount to plagiarism in my opinion.)

Mrs. Chatterjee’s Leo

The day broke gray and dull. The clouds hung heavily, and there was a rawness in the air that suggested snow. A woman servant came into a room in which a child was sleeping and drew the curtains.

“Get up, Leo. We’ve got to flee before they come.”

There was a tremor in her voice as she walked across to the window and looked out. It’s snowing heavily now. Within minutes there was snow lying all over The Chatterjee Vila. Even snow or flakes of it were dripping down the rooftop and the window panes.

And they – the enemies of Master Chatterjee- were not very far. How long would they take to get to the villa? Half hour, one hour at the most? Then she saw a head, but for the pair of eyes, fully covered with what looked like a black, heavy woolen muffler, staring at her from the distance before deciding on ducking behind the maple outside the main gate.

God! The enemies were nearer than she thought! She felt numb for a moment. In the absence of Leo’s parents or even if they were around, the onus of saving him rested solely on her shoulders. She wouldn’t, couldn’t let any harm come his way!

How she wished then that at least some domestic helps were there. But there was no time for engaging in silly wistful thoughts now. Leo had to be saved at any cost and reached safely to the helipad of The Chatterjees. Wangyel was waiting for them there. That reliable fellow would ensure young Master Leo’s safety and fly him out of danger to reunite with his family.

As she hurriedly drew the curtain together, a bullet flew over her head, making a hole in the window, missing it barely by a whisker!

Sonam dashed to the bed. The sound of the bullet had woken Leo up. But there was no time for him to be dressed properly. The enemies must have jumped over the wooden fencing and been out in the gardens by now.

She lifted him from the bed, looking wide-eyed and groggy, up to her chest and scampered down the spiralling iron staircase at the back.

She had been fleeing breathlessly for how long, she didn’t know, clutching Master Leo to her chest with her left hand. With the steel ski stick in her right, she was sliding through the thickened snow.

How far was the helipad?

Oh, God! Have mercy on us. Let me reach Master Leo to Wangyel safely at any cost.

It was only then she noticed Wangyel, thickly dressed, waving his hands frantically from the cabin 200 meters or so below. 

She held her nerves as what looked like a shining instrument missed her head, flew over and struck the stem of a willow. As it fell off, a sticky liquid oozed out of the deep cut in the tree where the sword had hit it.

Had it hit her, she wouldn’t be alive by now.

Run, Sonam, run. Remember the promise you made to the elder Master?

She could visualise Linton‘s handsome face even in the freezing cold outside, with panic gnawing at her intestines!

“The life of my son lies in your hands, Love. You know why we can’t take him with us, don’t you? I’ve full faith in you and I love you dearly.”

Then he had kissed her lightly on the lips, sending shivers down her youthful body and setting it on fire.

She could see Wangyel clearly in the pilot’s seat now, some ten yards or so away, egging her on to join him.

Then there was a searing pain just around her right arm. She knew what it was as the stick flung out her hand and blood started gushing down.

Even then she didn’t slacken her speed and kept running. Later, Wangyel was to tell Mrs. Chatterjee how Sonam was almost flying in the air after being hit by that vicious bullet. How he had to bend down from his seat to snatch Master Leo up from her upraised hand, with her face contorted by the unbearable pain. He would also tell Master later how as he picked young Master with a few drops of her blood sprinkled over the wrapper and placed him across to the seat next to the pilot’s, there came a thundering typhoon.

Wangyel had marshaled the helicopter further up and out of the danger zone by then. The fireballs that were parts of Sonam even a minute or so ago, were flown into bits and pieces and still flying all over the helipad.

That was the last he had seen of that brave lass.

More than her inexpressible love for Linton, Sonam had sacrificed herself for the son that was never to be hers officially!

The end