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Audio Theme : Sabbath Prayer | From Fiddler On The Roof |

Word Count : 2400

https://youtu.be/TbI8CkBOdvQ

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42 | A Manor In The Misty Meadows

14th May 2023

Morning

| 0700 Hours |

Wayanad, Kerala

"Jordon!" He roared. "Slow down!"

The butler didn't dare to shift even by an inch. He continued to stand under the dark emerald and rain-washed blackboard foliage with his head bowed down. "Your Lordship, your presence is expected at the dining table for breakfast."

"Jordon, I said, slow down!" Voice as deep as a magnificent waterfall, he roared again.

The majestic black Thoroughbred stallion, which was galloping at it's fastest gait, slowly maneuvered its speed to come to a standstill.

The butler finally looked up. His old eyes with crows feet littered around them hither and thither settled themselves on the man sitting on the horse, who held the reins wound around the horse in his left hand and the pommel in his right hand.

Taking his right foot out of the stirrup, he swung it over the horse's rump, stationing it down on the ground. He then took his left foot out of the stirrup and dismounted the stallion completely.

"Your Lordship-" The butler was cut off in his speech the very next moment.

Thunder struck, blustery winds blew, as heavy downpour graced the meadows in a trice, with the misty, viridiscent Western Ghats in the backdrop.

A pair of lucid azure eyes stared right into his old ones, with their owner's palm raised up, signaling him to put a halt on his speech. The intensity in those azure eyes caused him to bow down his head once again.

"Did I ask you to repeat, Simon?"

The butler's hands trembled. "No, your Lordship." He gulped.

Tightly grasping the reins in his right hand, he moved towards the stable. "You can take your leave then." The misty green grass crackled under his feet.

The butler, Simon Cohen, promptly turned around, picked up his umbrella, and started to walk towards the colossal Sassoon manor located on the other end of the Meadow, hidden under a thick veil of tall, dense, and dewy vegetation, the dark and bluish-green rainy firmament, and the pristine white and impenetrable fog.

***

The back and forth movement of his torso ceased as he finished reciting the Shema. Placing the Siddur back on the mahogany Siddur stand, he gently rubbed his palms on his face. Yakub Sassoon then got up from the cold yet intricate, blue-and-white Chinese porcelain tiled flooring with willow patterns. With his eyes still shut close, he turned away from the Mizrah.

Right in front of him on the other end of the dimly lit Elizabethan-era chamber was a wall with a massive photo frame hung on it. He slowly opened his eyes, causing his gaze to fall directly on the photograph inside the golden photo frame.

Immediately, a soft smile enlightened his visage. He then stood there for a minute straight, absolutely still, his eyes still stuck on the picture.

Two soft knocks on the chamber door shifted his attention from the frame.

Simon Cohen bent his waist forward and displayed a sophisticated bow, his eyes on the floor. "The breakfast is ready, my lord."

Yakub waved his left hand. "I will be there shortly."

With one quick nod and another well practiced to perfection bow, the butler turned around and retraced his path back to the ground floor of the manor.

Ten minutes later, Yakub Sassoon settled himself on the upholstered head armchair. He then picked up the delicate muslin napkin from above the seventeenth-century English Oak refectory table. Unfolding the snowy white napkin, he placed it on his lap. Aligned next to it's ocean blue borders, on the top right corner was a Hebrew alphabet embroidered in hues of ocean blue on the napkin.

With his visual senses fixated on it's sharply arched ends, he traced his fingers across the demurely stitched alphabet.

A faint sound of heels clicking on the floor fell on his ears. He didn't look up; instead, his calm eyes remained steadfast on the Hebrew letter engraved on the napkin spread over his lap.

"La La La! Here you go!" The frail old feminine voice jubilantly exclaimed. "Breakfast is going to be extremely heavy today, my son! Handle your stomach with care." Asherah Sassoon laughed. One after the other, she started stationing the serving plates, spoons and casseroles on the table along with the servants. "Look! There is Kubbah." Pointing at a plate filled with small, oval-shaped deep-fried savory goodies, she tried to discern the expressions of her son. "Then, we have Bulgar, Bureka, Ellachel, and Chuttuli meen! I have made Appam, Dosha, coconut milk stew, and Unniyapam as well." She clapped, the thin and wrinkly skin on her thin hands turning red due to the vigorous movements. "Where are my lovely grandsons though?" She turned around to face Simon. "Simon, where are Abraham and Jeremiah?" The rich fabric of her silky Podem Kuppayam flailed around her limbs, much below her knees, while the black headscarf covering her head gracefully trailed down her shoulders.

Simon Cohen stood with his back tilted forward at a certain acute angle. "His Lordship was in the meadows with Jordan this morning, my lady. I personally conveyed the message to him." Wiping the sweat dribbling down his forehead even in such chilly weather, he continued. "He shall be here anytime now."

Asherah frowned and clicked her tongue. "I wonder how long that poor thing will survive. He is almost thirty-six. Much older than the average ages horses of his breed live." She paused. "Anyway, what about Jeremiah?"

"The young master..." He hesitated, glancing at the old lady beside him.

"The young master is out for a jog. He, too, shall be here soon." The said old lady completed his statement.

Asherah passed a short nod and volt-faced to look at Yakub.

Just then the gargantuan Kerala Teak wood doors of the dining hall opened and in walked a stout yet sturdily built man in black suit.

"My Lord." He bowed.

Yakub nodded.

He then turned around to face Asherah. "Ma'am"

Asherah waved off her right hand with a chuckle. "You are on time, Menon! We were just going to start with the breakfast." Beckoning him towards the dining table, she said. "Please have a seat."

Unnikrishnan Menon faintly smiled. "Thank you, ma'am." He paused, glancing at Yakub. "But as of now, I have something else to discuss with sir."

Asherah nodded with a smile. "Alright."

Unnikrishnan quickly strode towards his master with a hardbound file securely held in his hand.

"What happened?" Yakub questioned, his calloused fingers still tracing the Hebrew alphabet embroidered on the dinning table napkin.

"My Lord, you have been looking after the corporation from abroad for years now. That's absolutely fine, but there have been some legal disputes regarding a land under the corporation for the past one year." He paused, keeping the file on the table. "I fear this might turn even more dirty."

Yakub scrunched his brows together. "What's there to be scared of, in this? Jeremiah will surely handle it well."

Unnikrishnan sighed. "God fear my lord; we all know what kind of an entity the young master is when it comes to work, but the problem is something else here, my lord."

"What is the matter, Menon?" Yakub exhaled. "Out with it. Crisp and clear!"

"The Dogras." Unnikrishnan began.

Yakub's body movements came to a standstill while his eyes stared blankly at the file on the table and fingers ceased their soft movements on the napkin on his lap.

"Mahadevan Dogra. He has been eyeing that piece of land for the past seven to eight years now. He has manipulated the locals living around it to sell their lands to him at reasonable prices." Menon continued. "Around three months back, Karim Khan, his right hand man, was there to finalize the deal."

Yakub nodded. "If I am not wrong, you are talking about that piece of land surrounding Lawrence Hall in Lovedale, right?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Alright, I'll inform Abraham." Yakub voiced out, placing his left hand on the file. "Let me consult him first." He paused, his fingers regaining their delicate movements on the napkin once again. "But, in no way, can we loose that land. That's for sure."

Stealing his attention from his assistant and the file under his palm, the giant dining hall doors creaked again.

A tall yet leanly muscular man dressed in a pair of black jogging trousers, a greyish-black track jacket, and a pair of sports shoes entered the premises. Right behind him was another masculine figure, buff and towering in appearance and clothed in a tailored black double-breasted trench coat and pants, with a Vicuna scarf loosely wound around his neck, its ends fluttering along the lapels of his coat.

The color of their eyes provided a complete contrast to each other-midnight black against lucent azure-almost like the terrifying and mysterious ocean against the daunting yet mischievous dark sky.

"Good morning, folks!" Jeremiah Sassoon voiced out, his lips molded to form a beaming smile.

Unnikrishnan Menon faintly smiled. "Good morning, young master."

Asherah Sassoon clapped her hands for once in glee, promptly getting up from her chair. "My lovely children, come here!"

Jeremiah let out a laugh, his long and sturdy limbs rushing towards his grandmother for a hug.

The grandmother-grandson duo hugged as Simon and the lady beside him, Sudha, both chuckled. "Good morning, young master."

Yakub Sassoon surveyed both his sons with a faint tugging of his lips.

"Did you sleep properly last night, Perrakkutti?"

"Yes, Valyamma!"

Meanwhile, the imposing figure behind Jeremiah reached the long refectory table at his own pace, his eyes vacantly staring at nothing in particular.

The moment their eyes finally fell upon him, Menon, Simon, and Sudha, all three of them bent forward by an angle of ninety degrees.

"Your Lordship!"

"Your Lordship!"

"Your Lordship!"

Three different voices echoed in reverence at the same time.

Abraham Sassoon nodded. "Solitude." A command followed, the tone of voice accurately measured-neither too loud nor too soft.

On the dot, all three of them strode out of the dining hall.

A minute later, the family of four was settled down to have the first meal of the day.

"Here, I have made Kubbah!" Asherah pushed the plate of Kubbah towards Abraham. "Have them. You like them! Don't you?" She then brought forward another casserole. "Here is your favorite-Chuttuli meen! Both of my grandsons love fish; I know it!" She exclaimed, placing a piece of the fried fish on Jeremiah's plate.

The latter laughed. "Valyamma is too excited!" He commented, deboning the fish on his plate with a fork and a knife.

"Obviously, I would be!" She picked up another piece of fish to place on Yakub's plate. He passed a nod. "I am finally back at my birthplace! In my motherland! Oh, how badly I want to breathe my last here itself, within the confines of my own home!"

Jeremiah chuckled, chewing on a piece of the now deboned fish.

Asherah then turned to look at her oldest grandson. He was silently sipping on a glass of juice.

She extended her hand to serve him as well. He raised his left palm up, signaling her to stop. "Jeremy, pass me the toasts, please." She heard him say.

Her face fell while her eyes turned a tinge sad. With a heavy sigh, she focused back on her plate.

Yakub Sassoon silently consumed his meal without looking up.

Jeremiah, on the other hand, glanced at his grandmother in confusion first and then at his older brother. Gently picking up the toast basket, he eventually handed it over to Abraham.

"Abraham," Yakub called. "Jeremy"

Both of them looked up. "Yes, Achan?" Jeremiah answered.

"Come to my office at two today. There is a legal dispute regarding a land that we need to look after." Yakub explained.

"Alright, Achan." Jeremiah smiled.

"I can't come." Came a crisp reply. "For the time being, Jeremiah will look after everything in my place. We have had a discussion regarding this."

The younger Sassoon sibling cleared his throat. "I have got a lot of legal matters to look after as of now." His onyx swirls clashed against his brother's azure ones. "But I can manage."

Yakub sipped some water and kept the glass back on the table. "Why can't you be there?"

Pin drop silence graced his eardrums.

"You are wasting your time, Perrakkutti." Asherah trailed.

"I didn't ask for your opinion, did I?"

The old lady instantly shed a drop of tear. "Don't talk to me like that!"

Abraham Sassoon finally looked up, his eyes cold and sharp, piercing through her old soul. "Like what?" He paused, tapping his index finger on the table. "Like you were the one due to whom, I still don't know where he is today. For that matter, if he is even alive or not?!"

"It was a mistake, okay?" The old woman wailed. "How many times should I apologize more?!"

Jeremiah looked on at the scene unfolding in front of his eyes in absolute confusion, unaware of whom his grandmother and brother were having an argument about, his nerves slowly turning anxious with every passing second.

Yakub Sassoon, meanwhile, chose to stay quiet, chewing a morsel of Dosha dipped in the stew at a leisurely pace.

"Not a mistake." Abraham's eyes turned dark and tone even darker. "It was a crime."

The old woman gasped. "What if he is dead? What will you do then?" She spat out.

Yakub Sassoon stilled, his jaws tight.

The lucid pair of azure eyes stared blankly at the food on the plate, then their beholder promptly got up from the chair and strode straight out of the massive dining area.

Asherah Sassoon jumped up from her chair in a hurry to stop her grandson.

"Let him be." She heard a soft whisper coming from the head chair.

The winds outside the manor windows howled as the sound of the crisp footfall slowly became distant.

***