Graduation – a story by Ron Persaud

Graduation

 A Short story by Ron Persaud …  (see bio at end)

 The tension became almost unbearable as Graduation Day arrived and no results had been posted on the bulletin board. All sorts of rumors were going around, even that the ceremony would be postponed. That would have been a big disappointment in many ways; not the least of which was that all the students were going to be gone by next afternoon. (Some Trinidadians were planning to leave immediately after the ceremony). Every student was wilted and weak with nervous anticipation of the worst; but promptly at five o’clock the band and choir from the Mausica Teachers’ Training College led the assembly of Dignitaries, Clergy, Faculty, Students and Invited Guests in a roof raising rendition of the Trinidad National Anthem.

The Program went very smoothly indeed. Two students earned the ‘Honors’ Diploma- Rabindranauth Prasad from Guyana and Wazir Rahaman from Trinidad. As he turned away from the podium, Rabin sought to make eye contact with a girl in the third row. She gestured as if blowing him a kiss and he responded with a small and token salute with his rolled up diploma. His heart quickened its pace and sank a little at the same time as elation and depression dueled for dominance. ’Tonight I hold a symbol of success in my hand but what will I hold in my arms tomorrow night?’ he wondered gloomily. But soon the program was over and it was time to exchange congratulations and celebrate the occasion. Rabin was glad of the diversion because he was dreading the prospect of visiting with Merle and her parents for any great length of time.

Hamilton B Rickson was an impressive presence. Well built and black, of stern mien and penetrating eyes, he was variously described as introverted, secretive and even menacing. (Very few people knew that his middle name was Barnaby). His right hand was firmly clasped in a handshake with Rabin and he was mouthing well thought out congratulatory words but his eyes were probing and his mind was praying, fervently and very humbly: ‘Almighty Father, show your undeserving servant some sign that I may discern this young man’s true intentions and save my daughter from disappointment, disaster and worst of all, disgrace.’

Rabeya Rickson was pleasingly plump and still pretty in her middle age. She was almost like a big sister to her three daughters two of whom were already married.. Rabeya could comprehend, more than anyone else, her little daughter’s predicament. Almost thirty five years ago, she faced similar misgivings when she chose to marry outside of her Faith and worse, her race. Herself and Hammy were ostracized by their families and were married by legal process only after they had obtained permission from the Chief Justice in Colonial Trinidad. Over the years Trinidad had obtained its Independence and its people had become more broad-minded towards mixed marriages but Guyana was still anchored in traditions of religion and culture. Worse, a racial divide between Blacks and Indians appeared to be heading to genocide. And now her Merle was willing to follow her heart and leave for a country where she would certainly be unwanted and may even end up being unloved.

Unwanted and unloved!   Rabeya understood only too well the supreme solitude of that combination and her heart felt very heavy with emotion as she contemplated the future of her youngest and brightest daughter.

She gave Rabin a bosomy hug and clipped a silver adornment in the shape of Trinidad to his tie. He kissed her on the cheek and she simply glowed in sheer enjoyment of the moment.

And then it was time to celebrate. Students were piling into cars and soon friends were calling for ‘Robin’. He was anxious to go but Merle followed him to the car and casually enquired where they were going. A student burst into song “Arima tonight, Sangre Grande tomorrow  night….”

Chung’s Restaurant in Arima was the favorite haunt of students because it was close ($1.00 taxi fare), cheap (another dollar would buy a satisfying bowl of  wor mein soup) and it was quite safe. Just after midnight the place was throbbing – palpably. Bit by bit the party had broken up and as the last group was leaving, they were pleading with ‘Robin’ to leave also but he was feeling good and he knew his way home….. For the next half hour or so he found himself in a motley group which turned really boisterous, singing in ‘Hindi and West  Indi ‘. Rabin  was singing with great gusto, The Mighty Sparrow’s  Margarita. As he sang the last line…”good bye to you my darling and vaya con Dios,” Merle entered the bar room and joined the group. Someone offered her a drink and there were casual introductions. She reminded Rabin that he would be flying home the next day and he’d better get some sleep; she would give him a ride home. As she was talking Rabin was thinking how desirable she looked and his vision of the two of them alone in her Mustang was a great ‘turn on’.

He needed no second urging to go with her but as the car got moving she fairly waded into him. “Look at youself….an Honours graduate……nothing but a drunken bum…..drink up…..sing up….dance up….form the ass and make youself a blasted pappyshow ….that’s all you know or care about and keep hands to youself  dammit!. But Rabin was persistent and by the time she had pulled into the parking area of the Institute she was much disheveled and absolutely furious. “Stop it this minute”, she hissed as he reached for her “don’t forget that I am a nurse”. But there was no stopping him. As he leaned over to kiss her, she jabbed her right thumb into the angle formed by his jaw line and neck and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in the passenger seat and Merle was talking to him from outside the car on the driver’s side. She was still angry but her words were strung together in a manner which that only careful rehearsal could have produced. “………at last you show you true colors…… drinking up to do by force what you don’t have the courage to do when yuh sober……..you like Sparrow? Well here’s one of his lines…’get it from somebody else……NOT ME!’ And further, when you return to your mudland country, lissen to you nanee an you bhowjee an you tantis; dey  will find a pundit’s dautah fo you to marry, yes?…..an she will give you chirren wid fair skin an straight black hair an allyuh will  sit on the sea wall on Sunday afternoon…..and when you look out ovah the Atlantic, remember ME, Merle, the douglah beti and all the plans we made together…..the symphony….me the melody and you the accompaniment… .the novel we woulda written together …..you the brain behind it and me the spirit of it…..your ambitions to be the plant geneticist who would develop humble crops like cassava and dasheen to the stage where our people will never know malnutrition again…..I hope each time you look in the mirror you’ll see the face of a man who could have been great if only he had the guts or backbone to choose for himself.

Like the ole people seh ‘If you let oddahs lead your life, you will nevvah lead your own life.’ And now get outta mah  kha and outta my whole life…..you kunumunu you!” She slid behind the wheel of the Mustang and had it moving almost before he had quite stepped away from it. She deftly negotiated the roundabout which took her on to the main road where she floored the accelerator and seemed to forget that the Mustang had other gears. Just out of sight of the Institute buildings she made a sharp right turn and headed across the lawn of the Agricultural station. As she braked, the vehicle fishtailed scarily before stopping mere inches away from the massive trunk of the Pride of Burma tree. Merle Rickson crossed her hands on the rim of the steering wheel, bowed her forehead on them and sobbed as only those without hope know how to.

Rabin walked somberly up the stairs towards the dormitory. As he made his way along the cantilevered walkway, he paused to take in the moonlit scene. Two years ago he was standing right here admiring the well kept grounds when a senior student had told him, “the grass will turn brown twice before you can leave this place.” So much had happened in those two years. Forty minutes of flying time had brought him out of a life in which there were controls everywhere…elder relatives…..community leaders…..church. The night before he left Guyana there was this large gathering of family and it seemed that everyone was harping on the same tune. “Study hard……nah falla too much company….an stahn far from dem Trindad gal; dem  too much brazen….when you come back you go marrid decent people, clear skin Brahmin pickney “ Then the next afternoon at Piarco, as he settled in the taxi that would take him to the Agriculture Institute he felt almost giddy with exhilaration knowing that he was free of accountability for the conduct  of his personal life….how late he came home….where was he going……..who was he with  etc. etc.

He had met Merle at the traditional dance held at the beginning of each academic year. He learnt that she lived in Carapo, a nearby village, that she was a nurse assigned to the psychiatric unit  at St. Ann’s Hospital, the mad house. She did not have a boyfriend and that she wanted to travel a bit (Europe or North America) before committing to marriage. He had invited her to come by any Saturday afternoon and he would show her around the farm. Neither of them quite knew how she became his personal tour guide but over the next year he saw places like Maracas Beach, the pitch lake at La Brea, attended such Trinidadian events like the festival of  La Divina Pastora  or Siparia Mai.  Kaltick Najan , parranged at Christmas and played Mas’ at Carnival. Indeed it was on Ash Wednesday night that she broke the news that she was being reassigned to the Leprosarium at Chacachacare The news gave experience to a phrase he had so far only read about, a sinking feeling in the stomach. She made him promise to study hard and she would arrange for him to visit the Leprosarium after the first year exams were ended. Over the next four months he had done just that and took the “Barbados Prize” for obtaining the highest marks overall and then made the boat trip across the Bocas to Chacachacare an islet off the northwest tip of Trinidad.

He was almost sick with excitement and anticipation as the launch was moored and when he saw Merle, his heart started beating so fast that he feared that he might have a heart attack. They embraced tightly and as he kissed her he felt her tears.

“You’re crying Merle?”

“Oh Rabin” she murmured brokenly, “I missed you so bad; sometimes I thought I would go crazy, yes?”

“And I missed you too Merle, more than you will ever know.”

Hand in hand they walked up to the main building which housed under one roof all the accommodations, amenities and facilities  required by the staff. Patients were housed in neat little cottages scattered over the islet. Rabin was introduced around and soon it was time for lunch which lasted a pleasant conversational hour. Rabin and Merle found themselves alone as everyone else went about their duties.

“Well, what would you like to do now?”  She asked.

“If you must know, a cold beer is what I’m thinking of”.

For the briefest instant he thought he saw a glimmer of disappointment in the way her eyelashes flickered but she replied mischievously, “I am the only person on this island who knows where to find that. Follow me!”  She led him to her room and from somewhere in the bathroom she brought out a bottle of “Sugar cane Brandy”.

“Oh Merle, I could kiss you”

“Your expressions of gratitude will have to wait” She poured generously into two drinking glasses, set them and the bottle down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, and settled down comfortably next to him. They raised their glasses and sipped deeply. “Now you may kiss me!” After a while Rabin became acutely conscious of her body pressed against his, the inviting and almost hypnotic fragrance of Avon’s “Here’s My Heart” and how little it would take to convert the sofa into a bed. These thoughts excited him tremendously and as he sensed her quickening breaths and acquiescing movements he felt that every nerve and fiber in their bodies seemed to cry out for fulfillment.

The sharp shriek of the launch whistle rudely interrupted their efforts and Merle murmured, “The devil and an imp, saved from eternal damnation…….”

“………………by Divine Intervention in the form of the ship’s siren”, he rejoined.

“Will you remember me when you are in Guyana, Rabin?” she asked as they stood on the jetty.

“I have missed you so much these last three months even though you were only a phone call away; I don’t know what I will do when we are separated by an ocean and unreliable phones.”

“Promise me that you will write often.”

“I promise, Merle, and  I will write SWALK on the envelope flap so that you will know that it was sealed with a loving kiss.”

“Oh Rabin, you are too romantic to become a scientist”.

“To become a scientist you first have to be a romantic”, was his parting shot  because, with a roar of its diesel engine and another piercing blast of its whistle, the launch was underway. Rabin stood in the stern of the launch and stared at Merle standing on the jetty until she disappeared in the waning light or beyond the horizon, he was not sure which.

He spent the next six weeks in Guyana and expectedly, he was questioned and cross questioned by all the many elders about affairs of the heart. He gave them the answers which they wanted to hear and they all seemed satisfied except his sister Liloutie. Although she was two years younger than him, Rabin could not hide anything from her and now he was telling all….his love for Merle……but could he face the collective wrath of the family?…would her life be in danger given the racial conflict in Guyana and her obviously “douglah” features?. Should he marry her and live in Trinidad?……break his contract with the Guyana Government…..they would be sure to track him down and at the very least he would have to pay back the thousands of dollars or go to jail or both. She showed unexpected empathy with his dilemma and she started to sing a song from their childhood. “Idhar mohobat, udhar zamana hai…….this way there is love; that way there is life. Idhar chalay hammm udhar ray chalay…..this way I will go; that way you will go”.  He was not sure of the translation but it fitted the circumstances.

Rabin returned to Trinidad early in September, determined to do well in the second of his two-year course. Merle was still at Chacachacare and she forbade him to visit her while school was in session. Early in the New Year she was reassigned to the Chest hospital on Caura Hill, close to home and closer to him but she elected to stay in the nurse’s hostel and the ban remained in place. “You’re a good man, Rabin, and one day you will be a great man! But right now you have to graduate with nothing less than ‘Honours’”.

Rabin remembered how good he felt when she had said those words and was filled with self disgust at the way he had just behaved towards her. At the moment he felt so low that he could walk under a closed door with a hat on his head. Just before he fell asleep it occurred to him that he might not see her tomorrow and he would not have to make a decision.

Rabin awoke to find himself looking straight into the eyes of Wazir lying in his own bed diagonally across the dormitory room outfitted to accommodate four students.

“Time to go home, Robin-boy”.

“Yes”, agreed Rabin, “the difference being that  ‘home’ for you is forty miles away; while for me, it’s four hundred miles away! By the way, congratulations on coming first in the final exams. Man; I really tried my best to beat you but my best was not good enough”

”It was a good challenge and it made me learn a lot; I hope it was the same for you. You decide about Merle yet?”

“I really don’t know what to do”

“It’s tough,” agreed Wazir  “don’t forget to write, man.”

“I won’t”

They shook hands and went their separate ways.

Rabin scanned the Airport parking lot for Merle’s Mustang but either it was not there or he missed it. At the counter, he checked in all his bags, keeping only his passport and ticket. He made his way to the bar, almost empty except for some tourists and Merle.

“I knew that you would come in here sooner or later so I just waited.”

He took a long sip of his beer and said “ Merle, look; I am really sorry for the way I behaved last night….”

“Rabin, I said some hurtful things to you and I want to forgive and forget. What will happen to us? Have you decided if I can be in your future at all? And if so, how?”

“Merle, I cannot think straight. I need time to think this through”

“O.K. Rabin, go to Guyana and take your time and come to your decision; if you decide we can get married, I will be here waiting. I will come to Guyana although I am afraid of the racial thing there and your family is something again. If you decide not to get married, tell me; I will get on with my life although it will not be the same. I will never forget you and I know that I will always yearn for the great life we would have had together.”

He held her tightly to him and tried to think of the right and decent things to say but neither his thoughts nor his vocal cords could overcome the emotional turmoil within him.

Mercifully, they were calling passengers for “Cubana Airlines flight 455”.

She set off for the waving gallery and him, for the departure gate. Neither of them made it to where they were going. Merle felt that she would break down and retraced her steps for the comfort and privacy of her Mustang. Rabin sensed a panicky feeling rising in him and found himself heading to the parking lot where he too sought out the Mustang. He leaned against it and settled in for a long wait but almost immediately he saw Merle coming up the lane. When she saw him she seemed to freeze in mid stride like a still frame in a movie; then they were running toward each other and then they were locked in a tight embrace oblivious to the world around them.

As they were passing the Agricultural station Rabin suddenly said “Let us stop a while”. She made the right turn and headed for the Pride of Burma tree In the brilliant sunlight he could see why they called it the ‘queen of flowering trees’. It was covered with scarlet blooms that were held in a loose chain-like formation and suspended like ornaments from every branch. Rabin reflected romantically on the scientific name, Amherstia nobilis, for Lady Amherst, the wife of a Governor of Burma. She must have been an enchantress because both a tree and a bird were named in her honor. They spent the next hour making plans and worrying about the consequences of Rabin’s impulsive decision but at last it was time to “get up and get “. Let’s go get something to eat and we’ll go break the news to my people” suggested Merle.

As they swung out on the main road Merle observed “You really graduated last night yes?”

“In agriculture I graduated last night, in life I have been graduating over the last two years.”

Rabin tuned the radio to a different station, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Ten minutes down the road, the radio program was interrupted to announce that  Cubana Airlines flight 455 had disappeared over the Caribbean Sea.

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The Author: Ron Persaud:

Guyana-born Ron Persaud immigrated to the USA in 1982. He attended Carmel R.C. School (1946-54), St. Stanislaus College (1955-59). In 1965 he graduated from ECFI (Eastern Caribbean Farm Institute) which is now ECIAF (Eastern Caribbean Institute of Agriculture and Forestry) in Trinidad. After one year as a teacher at Sand Creek and Aishalton R.C schools in the South Rupununi, he worked in the Guyana Sugar Industry from 1961 to 1982.  He can be contacted at : ronalawn82@gmail.com

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