Page 43 of A Thousand Painted Hours

“Excellent,” William said. “I’ve been invited to a country house party three weeks hence. You may tag along, and I’ll introduce you to the right set.”

I blinked at his snobbery, thinking with a sudden ache of the mixed English and Indian company I’d kept in Nainital. But I would go along with the plan if it meant I could have my own wishes.

—24—

November 3, 1911

Mayo College, Ajmer

[In Urdu]

Dear Elsie,

I offer my regrets that you did not know how to address me, for that was my fault in attempting to end our correspondence. I introduced the awkwardness between us when there has never been anything but purest trust.

Truth.

Let us keep to that truth now. More letters between us are a kind of madness, but I was so overjoyed to see your words that I cannot hold to my resolve. Please write to me. I will write back. Surely there is no temptation in words on a page, when we are parted by thousands of miles!

Thank you for sharing that vision of Venus shining on the sea. I could picture it so clearly, the fresh breeze and nose-biting cold, the sky stretching above, so vast and full of stars, and only the two of us, apart from the world.

I would that it were so.

Truth. In truth, Elsie, your absence has leeched my world of all color. I taste no salt in the food, or sugar in my chai, essential things that make each day fine and good. Everything reminds me of you—the lake, the kittens, a tangle of flowers, my own sketchbook, filled with things you taught me, even if I am a poor artist at best.

At least now I may think of Venus, and imagine you raising your hand to her as I am, and, thus, will we be connected for a moment.

I have returned to school and will devote myself to my studies. I am most engaged with maths and discussions of economics, but I have also found a friend here, Sunil, who shares my love of literature. We find ways to discuss books most deeply. We are reading a novel of the Sannyasi Rebellion, which some say was the beginning of Indian independence. Sunil believes as I do that the time will be coming in our lifetimes, sooner rather than later, that India shrugs off the yoke of the British and we make our own way into the future. I suppose by attending my studies of economics and systems (along with the British way of doing everything), I will be more thoroughly prepared, much as I would love to study only astronomy and poetry. I can take those up on my own. In this moment in history, there are more pressing questions. How will India become her own nation? How can that best be accomplished?

Which is what our fathers discussed endlessly, I suppose. Will your father still support such ideas, or will he settle into becoming a bastion of English gentry?

And now you, too, are one of that number,LadyElsie. How will that change you, I wonder? Because of course it must.

I hope it does not, at least very little. I pray you remain as fierce and independently minded as you ever have been. Your soul holds a great light.

Perhaps one day, while gazing at Venus, I will discover some new star. If I do, I will name her for you. Will that make up for my harsh first letter?

And at last, this—we can continue our poetry study and translations as easily here as in person. I have enclosed an Urdu ghazal for you to translate. Do not be afraid! It is quite simple.

Now I am off to post this and hope for a letter in return. Our paths have split in different directions, but it feels too much to ask that we not be able to continue the conversation of our minds.

Be well,ham-nawa,

Your own Tanveer

PS: One small beauty: watching a chestnut mare frolic in her pen, mane dancing the long light of afternoon.

[Enclosed Urdu poem]

December 12, 1911

Herewich Manor, England

[In Urdu]

Dear Tanveer,

When I saw your handwriting, and felt the solid weight of your letter, I was filled with such gratitudeand relief that I wept. I can bear leaving India (just), but not if I am also required to sever our connection.