BAPSISIDHWA

Ice-Candy-Man

PENGUINBOOKS

Contents

AbouttheAuthor

PraiseforBapsiSidhwa

Dedication

Chapter1

Chapter2

Chapter3

Chapter4

Chapter5

Chapter6

Chapter7

Chapter8

Chapter9

Chapter10

Chapter11

Chapter12

Chapter13

Chapter14

Chapter15

Chapter16

Chapter17

Chapter18

Chapter19

Chapter20

Chapter21

Chapter22

Chapter23

Chapter24

Chapter25

Chapter26

Chapter27

Chapter28

Chapter29

Chapter30

Chapter31

Chapter32

Acknowledgements

Copyright

PENGUINBOOKS

ICE-CANDY-MAN

DistinguishedinternationalwriterBapsiSidhwalivesinAmericabuttravelsfrequentlytotheIndiansubcontinent.Shehaspublishedfivenovels:AnAmericanBrat,CrackingIndia,PakistaniBride,TheCrow-EatersandIce-Candy-Man,andhasbeentranslatedintoGerman,French,ItalianandRussian.

AmonghermanyhonoursSidhwareceivedtheLilaWallace-Reader’sDigestWriter’sAwardin1994,theUSNationalEndowmentfortheArtsgrantin1994,theSitara-i-Imtiaz,Pakistan’snationalhonourinthearts,andtheLiBeraturepreisinGermany.SidhwahasalsoheldtheprestigiousBuntingFellowshipatRadcliffe/Harvard.

Sidhwa,whowasontheadvisorycommitteetoPrimeMinisterBenazirBhuttoonWomen’sDevelopment,hastaughtatColumbiaUniversity,UniversityofHoustonandMountHolyokeCollege,andcurrentlyholdstheFannyHurstpositionatBrandeisUniversity.

Ice-Candy-Man(aNewYorkTimesNotableBookoftheYearandaQualityPaperbackBookClubselection),hasbeenmadeintothefilm1947—EarthbynotedCanadiandirectorDeepaMehta.

PraiseforBapsiSidhwa

‘BapsiSidhwadealswiththepartitionofIndia,asubjectasharrowingastheHolocaust.Beforeourdisbelievingeyes,sheperformstheremarkablefeatofbringingtogethertheribaldfarceofParseefamilylifeandthestarkdramaandhorrorsoftheriotsandmassacresof1947.

‘Shehasachievedtheimpossiblethroughonemasterlystrokecreatingachild’sworldofhomeandgamesintheparkamidstamotleycompany.Atthecenterofthisworldisthechild,Lenny.Forallthatshebearsthebitterburdenofhistoryonhereight-year-old-shoulders,Lennyisnotallowedtobecomemerelytheembodimentofanabstractidea.Sidhwa’striumphliesincreatingcharacterssorichinhilariousandaccuratedetail,soaliveandactive,thatlongafteronehasclosedthebook,theycontinuetoperformtheirextraordinaryandwonderfulfeatsbeforeoureyes.’

—Dawn

‘IfyouwishtorelivetheLahoreofthe’40sand’50s,gonofurther.InIce-Candy-Manthetaleistoldwithskillandcraftsmanshipunrivaledinthesub-continent.’

—She

‘Sidhwa’shumourcomesinpungentone-linersandherstyleishighlyvisual.’

—IndiaToday

‘Sidhwacapturestheturmoilofthetimes,withabrilliantcombinationofindividualgrowing-uppainsandthecollectiveanguishofanewlyindependentbutdividedcountry.Sidhwa’swork—particularlythedehumanizingeffectsofcommunalismshemovinglyrevealsinIce-Candy-Man—ispainfullyrelevanttoourpresentdayIndia.’

—EconomicTimes

‘Itmaybethattheatrocitiesof1947arebestseenthroughtheinnocent,naïveeyesofachild,whohasnoHindu,MuslimorSikhaxetogrind…Lennyisfreebothfromtheprejudicesofreligion,andfromtheprejudicesagainstwomen,andtheconstraintsshewillbesubjecttoasshegrowsolder.Theauthorialvoice(is)apowerfulvoiceofhindsight.’

—RalphCrane

‘BapsiSidhwacannotbeeasilylabeled…ShecannotbecategorizedasjustaPakistaninovelist,sheismuchmoreversatile.“LameLenny”canberelatedtoOscarofGuntherGrass’sTinDrum.Therearebooksaboutboysgrowingup(MarkTwain’sHuckFinn),howeverSidhwa’snovelisuniqueasitestablishesthegirl-child’spointofview.’

—R.K.Dhawan

‘Sidhwa’sevocationofaLahorechildhood,seenthroughtheeyesofaprecociouschildcalledLenny,isassweetandenticingasthepopsiclesthattheheroofhernovelsells.ItisapassionateaccountofPartitiontoldthroughthecoolingmistsofParsihumour.’

—Parsiana

‘LennycanbecomparedtothepersonathatChauceradoptsinhisProloguetoTheCanterburyTales,renderingcredibilitybybeingalmostapartofthereader’sconsciousness…Withthewonderofachildsheobservessocialchangeandhumanbehaviour,herpersonaasourceofsharpirony.’

—NoviKapadia

‘Sidhwa’sIce-Candy-Manisaboldexperimentinnarrativestrategiesandtime,inwhichtheunspeakablehorrorsofcommunalviolencearetoldmainlyfromalittlegirl’spointofview.’

—TimesLiterarySupplement(TLS)

‘Inthisrich,originalnovelSidhwacontrives,withoutfakenaïvete,totellthestorythroughtheeyesofasharp,inquisitiveeight-year-oldgirlLenny,whohasacrippledfootandiscaredforbyabeautifulyoungAyah.LennyisestablishedsofirmlyasatruthfulwitnessthatthemountinguneaseinLahore,theriots,firesandbrutalmassacresbecomerealthroughthechild’sexperience.Thecolossalupheavalofpartition,whencitieswereallottedtoIndiaorPakistanlikepiecesonachess-board,andtheirfrightenedinhabitantswereoftensavagelyuprooted,runslikeanearthtremorthroughthisthoughtfulnovel.’

—SylviaClayton

‘Withskillandsympathy,andadelightfulsenseofhumour,BapsiSidhwashowsthesmallgirlLennygrowingupincomfortandtranquillity.Thebook’smanycharactersallcometoexuberantlife,exhibitingtheoddtastesandunpredictablebehaviourofrealindividuals.’

—LondonMagazine

‘Sidhwa’sRabelaisianlanguageandhumourareenormouslyrefreshing,especiallyinthecontextofmodernIndianfiction,whichhastendedrathertowardstheprimandstilted.InIce-Candy-Man,asinherpreviousnovels,shesucceedsintransmittingintoEnglishmuchofthespiritofPunjabilanguageandculture,whichisnothingifnotearthy.Butherproseisalsobothdelicateandpreciseinitsimageryanddescriptions,withwordschosenascarefullyaspiecesofinlayinamarblewall.’

—TheLiteraryReview

‘LikeallSidhwa’swork,thenovelcontainsarichundercurrentoflegendandfolklore.ItcombinesSidhwa’saffectionateadmirationforherowncommunitywithacompassionforthedispossessed.Herownchildhoodmemoriesgivethenovelfurtherdepthandresonance.’

—TheOxfordCompanionToTwentieth-CenturyLiteratureinEnglish

‘Afluent,fastmovingnarrativeofwitandwisdom.’

—IrishTimes

‘Abornstoryteller,anaffectionate,shrewdobserver…shewriteswithauthorityandflair.’

—NewStatesman

‘Ice-Candy-Manisextremelytaut,highlysensitiveanditsheart-rendingrealismisbestbroughtoutwiththefamiliarelements.Thetreatment,muchtothefulfillmentofthereader,isnotonlydelightfullydifferentbutalsoinimitablyexclusive…Sidhwa’ssomewhatJoycianinsightintochildpsychologyandkeenobservationofchildbehaviouriswhatmakesthebooksocompellingandvirtuallyunputdownable.’

—Miscellany

‘ThebrilliantlycreatedIndiancharactersinthisnovelaremadewitharealface,thatturnsattimesintoamaskofhorrorandatothersintoapealoflaughter…Ofallthemarvellouspeoplebroughttolifeinthisnovelthereisonewhosignifiesresistancetochangeandusesthechaosaroundhimforhisownmaliciousends.AndsointheendthereisonepersonwhocomesoutunscathedandnowiserfromthebrutalpainofIndianindependence:Ice-Candy-Man.’

—WeeklyMail

‘AstheambiguitiesandcontradictionsresidinginthepoliticalsituationinthePunjabareexploredinthecourseofLenny’snarrative,soexamplesmultiplyofSidhwa’stalentforfusingbroadhumourandtrenchantcriticism,concreteobservationandimaginativeinsight,therealitiesofeverydayexistenceandtheabstractionsofpoliticsandreligion.’

—ThirdWorldQuarterly

‘Withoutawordofprotestationorpreachingandwithouthistrionics,SidhwahaswrittenoneofthemostpowerfulindictmentsoftheriotswhichoccurredduringthePartition.’

—WorldLiteratureToday

‘Thenovelisabouttheslowawakingofthechildheroinebothtosexualityandgrown-uppainsandpleasuresandtotheparticularhistoricaldisasterthatoverwhelmsherworld…compulsivelyreadable.’

—Observer

‘Apowerfulanddramaticnovelist.’

—TheTimes

‘Sidhwa,aParseelivinginPakistan,isararityeveninswiftly-changingAsia—acandid,forthright,balancedwomannovelist.HertwentiethcenturyviewofIndianlifecanonlybecomparedtoV.S.Naipaul’s.SidhwaisamongthemostinvigoratingIndianwriters.’

—BloomsburyReview

‘Ice-Candy-Manisanovelinwhichheartbreakcoexistswithslapstick…andjokesgivewaytolinesofglowingbeauty(“themoonlightsettleslikealayerofashesoverLahore”).Theauthor’scapacityforbringinganassortmentofcharactersvividlytolifeisenviable.InreducingthePartitiontotheperceptionsofapolio-riddenchild,agirlwhotriestowrenchouthertonguebecauseitisunabletolie,BapsiSidhwahasgivenusamemorablebook,onethatconfirmsherreputationasPakistan’sfinestEnglishlanguagenovelist.’

—NewYorkTimesBookReview

‘BapsiSidhwahasturnedhergazeuponthedomesticcomedyofaPakistanifamilyinthe1940sandsomehowmanagedtoevokethegreatpoliticalupheavalsoftheage…andIamparticularlytouchedbythewayshehasheldthewickedworlduptothemirrorofayounggirl’smindandcaughtsomuchthatislyricalandsignificant…amysteriousandwonderfulnovel.’

—WashingtonPost,BookWorld

‘MuchhasbeenwrittenabouttheholocaustthatfollowedthePartitionofIndiain1947.Butseldomhasthatstorybeentoldastouchingly,asconvincingly,orashorrifyinglyasithasbeenbynovelistBapsiSidhwa,seeingitthroughtheeyesofyoungLenny…thereisgreathumanityinthisnovel.’

—PhiladelphiaInquirer

‘ReadingBapsiSidhwa’sIce-Candy-ManislikeforagingthroughatablefulofdiscountedSwatchwatches,andfindingagoldRolex…itillustratesthepowerofgoodfiction:ahistoricaltragedycomesalive,yieldinginsightintoboththepastandthesubcontinent’sturbulentpresent.’

—USAToday

‘BapsiSidhwaisawriterofenormoustalent,capableofendowingsmalldomesticoccurrenceswithcosmicdramaandrenderingcalamitoushistoricaleventswithdeeplyfeltpersonalmeaning.HerIce-Candy-Manisalively,compellingnovel,ambitiouslyconceived,skillfullyplottedandbeautifullywritten.’

—NewYorkNewsday

‘SetagainstthepartitionofIndia,thisfast-paced,seriocomicsagatracksthedailyperegrinationsandcapriciousthoughtsofLennywhounwittinglylearnsthatpeopleandeventsarenotas“transparent”asshehadthought.’

—TheMiamiHerald

‘Imagineachildskippinginnocentlythroughthecarnageofwar.Thechild’slightheartedpresencemakesthedevastationaroundherallthemoreheartbreaking.ThisistheeffectofBapsiSidhwa’scompellingnovel.’

—MilwaukeeSentinel

‘Readerssooncometorealizethattheyareseeing1947Lahorethroughaskillfulnarrator’seyes(as)streetscenes,aswellasfamilylife,comealive.Sidhwaprovidesavivid,realisticpictureofIndianfamilylifeandhumaninteraction…withanintroductiontowhatcontinuestohappen(inthesub-continent)today.’

—ArizonaDailyStar

‘Ice-Candy-Manisasuperbnovel,brilliantlyandlovinglywritten.Itisalsoamasterfulworkofhistoryasitrelatespoliticaleventsinthemostsimplebutalsomosthumanlymeaningfulterms,withcomedyandanguish,throughtheeyesofachild.’

—AlbuquerqueJournal

‘Sidhwa’sviewpointisofsomeonetowhomthescenesshedepictsareknownwithgreatintimacy.Asforeignreaderswe’reinvitedtolearnwhatitwasreallyliketoliveasanIndianinthoseyearsofviolence.Lennyhastheprivilegeofdetachment:shegivesusthestorywhole,insteadofinfragments.’

—Remark

‘Foroneofthemostimportantappealingnarratorsyouwillevercomeacross,foracompellingandilluminatingviewofamomentinworldhistory,andforclear-eyedinsightsintohumannature,readthisbook.’

—ReadingWoman

‘Sidhwaisasuperbstoryteller,sprinklingthebookwithtersely-capturedvignettes,whichincreasinglyknittogetherintoastoryofpassionandbetrayal,“theunscrupulousnatureofdesire”and“thepitilessfaceoflove”.It’sagreat,throngingbazaarofabook,bustlingwithriches.’

—NewInternationalist

‘Thisexquisitelywritten,tightlyconstructednoveloffersanengagingglimpseintoAsianlifeandavividrecordofadarkchapterinhistory.’

—Masterplots:Women’sLiterature

‘BapsiSidhwaistechnicallyPakistani,butliteraturehasnoneedofpartitions,particularlyasSidhwa’snovelIce-Candy-Manisoneofthefinestresponsesmadetothehorrorofthedivisionofthesubcontinent.’

—TheNewYorker

‘TheoriginalityandpowerofSidhwa’ssplendidnovelonthepartitionofIndiaandthesubsequentcommunalviolencederivedfromherchoiceofprotagonist:Lenny,aneight-year-oldParseegirlfromLahore,aspectatorlivinginthemidstof,butapartfrom,therisingtensionsamongHindu,Muslim,andSikh…Throughout,thenovelsustainsthevitalityofLenny’sworldwithaseriesofwonderfullycomicscenes.Highlyrecommendedforalllibraries.’

—TheNewYorkerLibraryJournal

‘Sidhwa’sluminouspresent-tenseproseislaminatedwiththemagicofchildishwonder…Shemanagestodojusticetothecomplexityofracial,ethnic,andreligiousviolencethataccompaniedthepartitioningofIndia…Richlylayered,bothrealisticandmagicallyevocative,aswellastopical:anovelthatbringstotriumphantlifeanIndiathat“haslesstodowithfatethanthewillofmen”.’

—KirkusReviews

‘Thenovel’spoliticsareeffectivelyjuxtaposedagainstalush,sensualcenter,astheauthor’sproselingersonthehot,dryLahorestreets…Anoveltosavor.’

—Booklist

‘Lenny’shonestyiscompelling,andthereader,likemanyinthestory,cannothelpbuttrusther.Sheisalternatelythrilledandfrightenedbytheeventsshedutifullyrecords,andsointheend,isthereader.’

—PublishersWeekly

‘Ice-Candy-Manisamultifacetedjewelofanovel.LennyisasstrikingacreationasHarperLee’sScout,whoplaysasimilarroleinToKillaMockingbird.’

—HoustonChronicle

‘Sidhwaisthekindofwriterwhocatchesyoubysurprise.Inthesubtlestofways,sheteachesandedifiesassheentertains.’

—RadcliffeQuarterly

‘Sidhwaisafeministandarealist.Oneseesinherwomencharactersthestrengthofpassion,thetendernessoflove,andthecourageofone’sconvictions.’

—BellesLetters

ForXerxes

Chapter1

ShallIhearthelamentofthenightingale,submissivelylendingmyear?

AmItherosetosufferitscryinsilenceyearafteryear?

Thefireofversegivesmecourageandbidsmenomoretobefaint.

Withdustinmymouth,Iamabject:toGodImakemycomplaint.

SometimesYoufavourourrivalsthensometimeswithusYouarefree,

Iamsorrytosayitsoboldly.Youarenolessficklethanwe.

(Iqbal:‘ComplainttoGod’)

Myworldiscompressed.WarrisRoad,linedwithraingutters,liesbetweenQueensRoadandJailRoad:bothwide,clean,orderlystreetsattheaffluentfringesofLahore.

Roundingtheright-handcornerofWarrisRoadandcontinuingonJailRoadisthehushedSalvationArmywall.Sethigh,ateight-footintervals,arethewall’sdingyeyes.Mychild’smindisblockedbythegloomemanatingfromthewire-meshscreeningtheoblongventilationslits.IfeelsuchsadnessforthedumbcreatureIimaginelurkingbehindthewall.IknowitisdumbbecauseIhavelistenedtoitssilence,myeartothewall.

JailRoadalsoharboursmyenergeticelectric-auntandheradenoidalson…large,slow,inexorable.TheirhouseisadjacenttothedenoftheSalvationArmy.

Oppositeit,downabumpy,dusty,earth-packeddrive,istheone-and-a-half-roomabodeofmygodmother.Withherdwellherdocileoldhusbandandherslavesister.Thisismyhaven.MyrefugefromtheperplexingunrealitiesofmyhomeonWarrisRoad.

AfewfurlongsawayJailRoadvanishesintothedensebazaarsofMozangChungi.Attheotherendadistantcanalcutstheroadattheperipheryofmyworld.

***

Lordly,lounginginmybrisklyrollingpram,immersedindreams,myprivateworldisrudelypoppedbythesuddenappearanceofanEnglishgnomewaggingaleatheryfingerinmyayah’sface.Butforkeenreflexesthatenablehertopullthecarriageupshorttheremighthavebeenanaccident:andbloodspilledonWarrisRoad.WagginghisfingerovermyheadintoAyah’salarmedface,hetut-tuts:‘Letherwalk.Shame,shame!Suchabiggirlinapram!She’satleastfour!’

Hesmilesdownatme,hisbrowneyestwinklingintolerance.

Ilookathimpolitely,concealingmycomplacence.TheEnglishmanisshort,leathery,middle-aged,pointy-eared.Ilikehim.

‘Comeon.Up,up!’hesays,crookingabeckoningfinger.

‘Shenotwalkmuch…shegettired,’drawlsAyah.AndsimultaneouslyIraisemytrousercufftorevealtheleatherstrapsandwickedsteelcallipersharnessingmyrightboot.

ConfrontedbyAyah’sliquideyesandprimgloating,andthetriumphantrevelationofmycallipers,theEnglish-manwithers.

Butbackhebounces,bobbingupanddown.‘Sowhat?’hesays,resurrectinghissmile.‘Getupandwalk!Walk!Youneedtheexercisemorethanotherchildren!Howwillshebecomestrong,sprawledoutlikethatinherpram?Now,youlistentome…’helecturesAyah,andprancingbeforethecarriagewhichhasagainstartedtorollsays,‘Iwantyoutotellhermother…’

AyahandIholdoureyesaway,effectivelydampeninghisgood-Samaritanexuberance…andwagginghisheadandturningabout,theEnglishmanquietlydissolvesupthedrivewayfromwhichhehadsoenthusiasticallysprung.

ThecovetousglancesAyahdrawseducateme.Upanddown,theylookather.Stub-handedtwistedbeggarsanddustyoldbeggarsoncrutchesdroptheirposesandstareatherwithhard,alerteyes.Holymen,maskedinpiety,shoveasidetheirpretencestoogleherwithlust.Hawkers,cart-drivers,cooks,cooliesandcycliststurntheirheadsasshepasses,pushingmypramwiththeunconcernoftheHindugoddesssheworships.

Ayahischocolate-brownandshort.Everythingaboutheriseighteenyearsoldandroundandplump.Evenherface.Full-blowncheeks,poutingmouthandsmoothforeheadcurvetoformacirclewithherhead.Herhairispulledbackinatightknot.

And,asifherlookswerenotstunningenough,shehasarollingbouncywalkthatagitatestheglobulesofherbuttocksunderhercheapcolourfulsarisandthehalf-spheresbeneathhershortsari-blouses.TheEnglishmannodoubthadnoticed.

WecrossJailRoadandenterGodmother’scompound.Walkingbackwards,thebuffalo-hidewater-pouchslungfromhisback,thewatermanissprayingthedrivewaytosettlethedustforeveningvisitors.Godmotherisalreadyfittedintothebulginghammockofhereasy-chairandSlavesistersquatsonalowcanestoolfacingtheroad.TheirfacesbrightenasIscrambleoutofthepramandruntowardsthem.Smilinglikeroguishchildren,softlyclappinghandstheychant,‘Langerdeen!Paisayketeen!Tambamota,pagmahin!’Freelytranslated,‘LameLenny!Threeforapenny!Fluffypantsandfinefanny!’

FlyingforwardIflingmyselfatGodmotherandsheliftsmeontoherlapandgathersmetoherbosom.Ikissher,insatiably,excessively,andshehugsme.Sheischildless.Thebondthattiesherstrengthtomyweakness,myfiercedemandstohernurturing,mytrusttohercapacitytocontainthattrust–andmylonelinesstohercompassion–isstrongerthanthebondofmotherhood.Moresatisfyingthanthetiesbetweenmenandwomen.

Icannotbeinherroomlongwithoutinsomewaytouchingher.Somenights,clingingtoherbroadwhitebacklikeabug,Isleepwithher.Shewearsonlywhitekhaddarsarisandwhitekhaddarblousesbeneathwhichishercoarsebandage-tightbodice.

InalltheyearsIneversawthenaturalshapeofherbreasts.

***

Somewhereintheunchartedwastesofspacebeyond,isMayoHospital.Weareonaquietwideverandarunningthelengthofthefirstfloor.Thecementfloorisshiningclean.

Col.Bharucha,awesome,bald,aspink-skinnedasanEnglishman,approachesswiftlyalongthecorridor.Mymotherspringsupfromthebenchonwhichwe’vebeenwaiting.

Hekneelsbeforeme.Gentlyheliftstheplastercastonmydanglingrightlegandsuddenlylooksintomyeyes.Hiseyesareacomplexhazel.Theyaredirectasananimal’s.Hecanreadmymind.

Col.Bharuchaiscloakedinthunder.Theterrifyingauraofhisrenownandcompetencearewithhimevenwhenheiswithouthisposseofhousesurgeonsandheadnurses.Histhunderisreflectedinmymother’son-your-markattentiveness.Ifhebends,shebendsswifter.Whenhereachesforthesawonthebenchshereachesitfirstandhandsittohimwithtouchingalacrity.Itisafrighteningarm’s-lengthsaw.Itbelongsinawood-shed.Hewithdrawsfromhispocketsamallet,ahammerandachisel.

Thesurgeon’spinkhead,bentinconcentration,hidesthewhitecast.Ilookatmymother.Iturnawaytolookatacloudlesssky.Ipeerinquisitivelyattheclosedwindowsscreeningthelargegeneralwardinfrontofme.Theknocksofthehammerandchiselandthesawinghaveceasedtoalarm.Iamconfidentofthedoctor’scompetence.Iambored.Thecrunchofthesawbitingintoplastercontinuesasthesawisworkedtoandfrobythesurgeon.Ilookathisbowedheadandamarrestedbythesplotchofbloodjustvisibleonmyshinthroughthecrackintheplaster.

Myboredomvanishes.Theblooddemandsareaction.‘Um…’Imoandutifully.Thereisnoresponse.‘Um…Um…’Imoan,determinedtodrawattention.

Thesawingstops.Col.Bharuchastraightens.Helooksupatmeandhisdirecteyesboreintomythoughts.Hecockshishead,impishlydefyingmetoshedcrocodiletears.CaughtoutIputabravefaceonmyembarrassmentandmynon-existentpainandlookaway.

Itisallsopleasantandpainless.Thecastisoff.Mymother’sguilt-drivenattentioniswhereitbelongs–onthesteeplyfallenarchofmyrightfoot.Thedoctorbucklesmysandalandhelpsmefromthebenchsaying,‘Itdidn’thurtnow,didit?’Heandmymothertalkovermyheadincrypticmonosyllables,nodsandsignals.Iamtoorelievedtoseemynewlyreleasedfootanditsvaluabledeformityintacttobeinterestedintheirgrown-upexclusivity.MymothertakesmyhandandIlimpawayhappily.

Itisahappyinterlude.Iamsenttoschool.Iplay‘Isentalettertomyfriend…’withotherchildren.Mycousin,slow,intense,observant,sitswatching.

‘Whichofyou’ssickandisnotsupposedtorun?’askstheteacher:andboundbyourtelepathicconspiracy,bothCousinandIpointtoCousin.Hesquats,distributinghisindolentweightonhissturdyfeetandIshout,play,laugh,andrunonthetipsofmytoes.Ihaveanoverabundanceofenergy.Itcanneverbewhollyreleased.

Theinterludewashappy.

***

Ilieonawhitewoodentableinasmallroom.Iknowitisthesamehospital.IhavebeenluredunsuspectingtothetablebutIgetawhiffofsomethingfrightening.Ihatethesmellwithallmyheart,andmyheartpoundingItrytogetoffthetable.Handsholdme.Col.Bharucha,inastrangewhitecapandmask,looksatmecoollyandsayssomethingtoayoungandnervousladydoctor.Theobnoxioussmellgrowsstrongerasafrighteningmuzzleisbroughtclosertomymouthandnose.Iscreamandkickout.Themuzzlemovesaway.AgainitattacksandagainItwistandwrench,turningmyfacefromsidetoside.Myhandsarepinneddown.Ican’tmovemylegs.Irealisetheyarestrapped.Handsholdmyhead.‘No!No!Helpme.Mummy!Mummy,helpme!’Ishout,panicked.Shetooisalignedwiththem.‘I’msuffocating,’Iscream.‘Ican’tbreathe.’Thereisanunbearableweightonmychest.Imoanandcry.

Iamheldcaptivebythebrutalsmell.Ithasvaporisedintoamilkycloud.Ifloatroundandroundandupanddownandfallhorrendousdistanceswithoutlandinganywhere,fightingformylife’sbreath.Iamabandonedinthatsuffocatingcloud.Imoanandmyghoulishvoiceturnsmeintosomethingdespicableandeerieanddeservingoftheterriblepunishment.ButwhereamI?Howlongwillthehorrorlast?Daysandyearswithnoendinsight…

Itmusthaveended.

Iswitchawaketomaddeningpain;sittingupinmymother’sbedcrying.Imusthavebeencryingalongtime.Ibecomeawareofthenewplastercastonmyleg.Theshapeofthecastisalteredfromthelasttime.Thetoespointup.Thepainfrommylegradiatesallovermysmallbody.‘Dosomething.I’mhurting!’

Mymothertellsmethestoryofthelittlemousewithseventails.

‘Themousecomeshomecrying.’Mymotherrubsherknucklestohereyesand,energeticallyimitatingthemouse,sobs,‘“Mummy,Mummy,dosomething.Thechildrenatschoolteaseme.Theysing:‘Freakymouseywithseventails!Lousymouseywithseventails!’”So,thelittlemouse’smotherchopsoffonetail.Thenextdaythemouseagaincomeshomecrying:“Mummy,Mummy,thechildrenteaseme.‘Lousymouseywithsixtails!Freakymouseywithsixtails!’”’

Andsoon,untilonebyonethelittlemouse’stailsareallchoppedoffandthestorywindstoitsinevitableanddismalendwiththebabymousecrying:‘Mummy,Mummy,thechildrenteaseme.Theysing,“Freakymouseywithnotail!Lousymouseywithnotail!”’Andthereisnowayatailcanbetackedbackon.

Thedolefulstoryaddstomymisery.Butstoicallybearingmypainforthedurationofthetale,outofpityformymother’swanfaceandmyfather’sexaggeratedattemptstobecomethetragicmouse,Ionceagainsuccumbtothepain.

Mymothertellsmyfather:‘Gonextdoorandphonethedoctortocomeatonce!’Itisinthemiddleofthenight.Anditiscold.Fatherputsonhisdressinggownandwrappingascarfroundhisneckleavesus.Myscreaminglosesitsedgeofpanic.Anhourlater,exhaustedbythepainandnolongerabletopandertomymother’seffortstodistract,Iabandonmyselftohysteria.

‘DaddyhasgonetofetchCol.Bharucha,’soothesMother.Shecarriesmeroundandroundtheroomstrokingmyback.Finally,pushingpastthecurtainandthedoor,shetakesmeintothesittingroom.

Myfatherraiseshisheadfromthecouch.

Thebittertruthsinksin.Heneverphonedthedoctor.Heneverwenttofetchhim.Andmymothercollaboratedinthebetrayal.IrealisethereisnothingtheycandoandIdon’tblamethem.

Thenightmusthavepassed–asdidthememoryoffurtherpain.

Asnewsofmyoperationspreads,thesmallandentireParseecommunityofLahore,incluckingclusters,descendsontheSethihousehold.Idon’twishtoseethem.IcryforGodmother.Ifeelonlyshecanappreciatemypainandcomfortme.Shesendsherobeseemissary,MiniAunty,whowithherdoggeddevotiontomymother–andmultiplicityofplatitudes–onlyaggravates.‘My,my,my!Sohereweare!Flatonourbackslikeoldladies!’Sheclickshertongue.‘We’venoconsiderationforpoorMummy,havewe?’AsifI’vedeliberatelycommittedsurgeryonmyfootandsneakedmylegintoacast!

But,precededbytheslave,Godmothercomes.

Shesitsbymybedstrokingme,smiling,hereyestwinklingconcern,inhergreygoing-outsari,itsprettyborderofbutterfliespinnedtoironstrandsofscantcombed-backhair.

Theintensityofhertendernessandtheconcentrationofherattentionarenarcotic.Irequirenooneelse.

AlleveninglongMotherandFathersitinthedrawingroom,long-facedandtalkinginwhispers,answeringquestions,acceptingadvice,exhibitingmyplasteredleg.

WhenCol.Bharuchamakeshishousecallatduskheisusheredthroughthesittingroom–hushedbyhispassage–intothenurserybytheofficiatingandanxiousenergyofElectric-aunt.Father,cradlingmelikeababy,carriesmein.

Thevisitingladiesformaquietringroundmycotaswithalittlemalletthedoctorchecksmywrist,knees,elbowsandleftankleforreflexes:andinjectsapain-killerintomybehind.Cousin,watchingthespectacle,determinesseriouslytobecomeadoctororamalenurse.Anyprofessionthatpermitsonetojabpinsintopeoplemeritshisconsideration.

TakingadvantageofCol.Bharucha’sbriefpresenceMotherreadsoutherlistofquestions.Shouldshesitmeoutinthesun?Massagelikethis…orthat?Usealmondormustardoil?CanshegivemeMrPhailbus’shomeopathicpowders?Cod-liveroil?

‘I’mtoblame,’shesays,‘Ilefthertotheayahs…’

Amonthlater,freeofpain,Isitinmystroller,myrightlegstuckstraightoutinfrontonaccountofmycast,asAyahpropelsmetothezoo.Iobservethecuriousglancescomingmywayandsoakinthecommiseratecluckingoftongues,wearingapoliteandnonchalantcountenance.ThelessattentionIappeartodemandthemoreattentionIget.And,despitetheprovocativeagitationofAyah’sbouncywalk,despitethegravitationalpullofhermoon-likeface,Iamthestarattractionofthestreet.

Whenwestopbythechatteringmonkeysinthezoo,eventheythroughtheircagesogleme.IstareatthewhiteplasterforcingmyuniquefootintothebanalmouldofabillionotherfeetandIpondermyuncertainfuture.

Whatwillhappenoncethecastcomesoff?Whatifmyfootemergesimmaculate,fault-free?WillIhavetobehavelikeotherchildren,sloggingformyshareofloveandotherhandouts?Aren’tItoooldtolearntothrowtantrums–orholdmybreathandhaveafit?WhileotherchildrenhavetoclamourandjumparoundtoearntheircandyImerelysitorstand,wearingmypatient,butter-wouldn’t-melt…anddisplayingmycallipers–andIamshoweredwithcandy.

WhatifIhavetolabouratlearningspellingsandrecitingpoemsandstrivewithfortyotherdrivenchildrentostandfirst,secondorthirdinclass?SofarI’vebeensparedtheidiocy–Iambynatureuncompetitive–butthesuddenemergencefromitscocoonofabeautifullybalancedandshapelyfootcouldputmysanguinepersonalityandsitu-ationontheline.

Iflirt,briefly,withhope.Perhaps,inhiszeal,Col.Bharuchahasover-correctedthedefect–andIseemyselflimpinggamelyonthestubofmyheelwhiletheballofmyfootandmytoeswagglesuspended.

IamjoltedoutofmytroublesomereveriewhenIrealisethatAyahistalkingtoSherSingh,theslenderSikhzooattendant,andIhavebeenrolledbeforethelion’scage.Therehelies,theferociousbeastofmynightmares,lookingtoothlessandinnocent…lyinginwaittospring,fullydentured,intomydreams.

Chapter2

Fatherstirsinthebednexttoours.‘Jana?’Mothersayssoftly,proppingherselfuponanelbow.

Iliestillpretendingsleep.

ShecallshimJan:life.Inthefaintglowofthenight-bulbIseehimentirelyburiedbeneathhisquiltlikeinagrave.Motherhatesitwhenhecovershisface:asifheisdistancinghimselffromhereveninhissleep.Sheknowsheisawake.‘Jana?’shesaysagain,gropingforhishead.‘Don’tcoveryourfacelikethat…You’llsuffocate.’

‘So?’saysFatherdrowsily,hangingontotheheavycottonquiltandunveilingonlyhiseyes.‘You’llbeamerrywidow.You’llbloweverypiceI’vesaved.’

Icanalmostfeelalanguoroushappinesssettleinmymother’sflesh.Hesoundsteasing,affectionate:asshesayshedidinthefirstyearoftheirsix-year-oldmarriage.

‘Don’tsaythat,Jana.Evenasajoke,’Mothersays,hervoiceplaintive,grateful,husky.Sherollsoverandmouldingherselftohisbackmakessmallburrowing,yearningmovements.FatherturnsandliftingthequiltburieshisheadinthebreastsshehasinheritedfromasuccessionofbountifullyendowedParseegrandmothers.

Havingpolioininfancyislikebeingbornunderaluckystar.Ithasmanyadvantages–itpermitsmeaccesstomymother’sbedinthemiddleofthenight.

‘Baijee?Wakeup.’AyahtapsMother’shandurgently.‘Baijee?’

Mylidsflyopen.Motherlooksstartledandhereyes,stillglazedwithdreams,starefixedlyatAyah.

‘Something’shappenedtoPapoo…I’veputherinthenursery,’whispersAyah.‘You’dbettercome.’

InonestartingmovementMotherpushesawaythequiltandswingsherfeettotheicyfloor.Hercalvesgleamcreamilyinthepalelightseepinginthroughthenarrowwindows.Shanta,myeighteen-year-oldAyah,pushestheredfeltslipperstowardshermistress’sfeetandholdsoutMother’spashminashawl.

Isitup,whimpering,andAyahswingsmeupandplacesmeonherhip.IknowIamheavywithmycast.

Itiswarmerinmynursery.Athinwoollendhurriecoversthebrickfloorandthesweeper’sdaughterislyingonitinfrontoftheglowingrodsofanelectricheater.Sheisthreeyearsolderthanme,abittaller,butsheweighslessI’msure.

Ayahplacesmeinmycotandsquatsbesidemykneelingmother.Ifeelasickeninglurchoffear–andfury.Fromthewayshelies,ashen,immobile–therightsideofherdarkcheekandsmallmouthslightlyaskew,athreadofsalivastretchedtoawetspotonthedhurrie–IthinkthatthereissomethingterriblywrongwithPapoo.‘HasMucchobeatenheragain?’Iaskfiercely.

Ayahlooksupatme,shiveringinthesleevelesscardiganwornoverhercottonsari.Herhairisdishevelledandherlargeeyesaredilatedwithangertoo.‘Shush,’shesays.‘She’llbeallright.’Theshawlshehasflungasideearlierliesinaheaponthefloor.

‘Papoo,’Mothersays,smoothingbackherstraight,sun-bleachedhair,‘openyoureyes,child.You’resafe.Come?’

Butthegirl,normallysoresponsive,liesabsolutelystill.Shelooksunbearablyill:shrunken,hersmallfeaturesbarelydefined,showingmilkycrescentsbeneathherlids.

‘We’dbettergethertothehospital,’Mothersays,standingup.‘I’lltellSahibtomindLenny.’

Papooremainsinthehospitaltwowholeweeks.Shehasconcussion.Hermothersaysshefelloffherbedbutweknowshe’slying.Mucchomaltreatsherdaughter.

WhenPapooreturnsfromthechildren’swardoftheGangaRamHospitalsheissprightly,defiant,devilishandasdelightfulasever.

***

Myparentssitonwood-bottomedchairsinCol.Bharucha’sconsultingroom.Motherholdsme.I’vebeeninflatedtotwicemysizebyknittedunderwear,pullovers,afive-footKashmirshawlandaquilt.

Col.Bharuchaisapplyingastethoscopetotheemaciatedchestofaninfant.Awomaninashabbyblackburkaholdsthechild.Theinfantcoughssoseverelythathismotherhastoholdhimupright.

Col.Bharucharemovesthestethoscopefromhisearsandletsithangfromhisnecklikeatalisman.‘Howlonghashehadthiscough?’heasks.

Thefather,standingdeferentiallytooneside,bendstowardshiswife.Sheturnsherveiledfacetohimandwhispers.

‘Foraweek,doctorsahib,’themansays.Hisheadandneckarewrappedinamufflerandhisgauntfaceiscareworn.

‘Howoftendoeshethrowup?’asksthedoctor.

Againthemanstoopsand,relayinghiswife’swords,says:‘Quiteoften,sir.’

‘Onceaday?Twiceaday?Tentimesaday?’thedoctorboomsimpatiently.IfeelMother’sarmtwitch.

Thistimethewomanaddressesthedoctordirectly,lookingathimthroughthenettingcoveringhereyes.‘Hevomitseverytimehehasmilk…five,sixtimesaday.’Hervoiceisincrediblyyoung.Shecouldn’tbemorethantwelve,Ithink,surprised.

‘Whydidn’tyoubringhimearlier?’thedoctorroars.

‘I’msorry,sir,’themansays.‘Shedidn’ttellme.’

‘Shedidn’ttellyou?Areyouafatherorabarber?AndyouallwantPakistan!Howwillyougovernacountrywhenyoudon’tknowwhatgoesoninyourownhouse?’

Theman,shiveringslightlyinashort,scruffyjacketandcottontrousers,hangshisheadandsmilessheepishly.

HispatientsunderstandCol.Bharucha.Themoreheroarsandscoldsthemorelikelyheistoeffectacure.Theyhaveasmuchfaithinhistouchasinhismixtures.

‘Takethistothedispenser,’Col.Bharuchasays,handinghimaprescription.‘Hewon’tchargeyouforthemedicine.’

‘Yourfees,sir?’Themanfishesoutahandfulofgrubbyone-rupeenotesfromhiscoatpocket.

‘Noneed,’Col.Bharuchasayswithadismissivegesture,andturningtous,asks,‘Well?’

Themansalaamsandshepherdshiswifeoutofthetinyroom.

‘It’sLenny,’saysMother.‘Yousaidyou’dremoveherplastertoday?Shehasacold…Idon’tknowifyoushould…’Hervoicetrailsoffonaquaveringnote.

Iquake.Thenewscomesasacompleteshock.IthoughtIwasseeingthedoctorformycold.Misinterpretingmydevotiontothecastwhichconcealsmyrepairedfoot,MotherthinksI’mmerelyscaredofbeinghurt:andhaskeptthetruepurposeoftheappointmentfromme.

‘No!’Iscream,unabletobearthethoughtofanable-bodiedfuture.Thesuspense–althoughithasgivenmyforeheadprematurewrinklesofworry–ispreferabletothecertaintyofanaltered,laboriousandlovelesslife.

IopenmymouthwideandbawlasloudlyasIamableandcleavetomymother.

‘Itwon’thurt,mai,’soothesFathergently.

‘Don’tyouremember?Itdidn’thurtatalllasttime,’carolsMotherbrightly.‘DrBharuchawouldneverletyouhurt.’

Fatherwavesacrispten-rupeenotebeforemynoseasIturnmyfacefromsidetosidetoabjuretemptationandestablishdisdain.ItisatouchinggestureofextravaganceonFather’spart.Iwouldappreciateitinanyothercircumstance.

Buttrademyfuturefortenrupees?

Col.Bharuchamoveshisspindlychaircloserandlookseloquentlyatme,implying:Nowwhat’sallthisfussabout?Iwon’ttoleratenonsense.

Butmyterrorisgenuine:andthedoctorcompromises.‘Ionlywanttohavealookattheplaster,hesays,anddisplayshandsinnocentofsaw,chiselorhammer.‘See?Ihavenothing.’

HeshiftshiseyestoMother.‘Howdoyouexpectmetoexamineherthroughallthisquilting?’Andstandingupfromhisdesk,tallandstooping,directs:‘Bringhertothetable.’

MotherbrisklyremovesthequiltandhandsittoFather.Sheunwindstheshawl,removesmycoatandtrousersandlaysmeonthehardandtreacherouslynarrowtablethatiscoveredonlybyaniodine-stainedwhitesheet.

‘Takeherclothesoff,woman!’thedoctorhollers.

‘Shehassuchanawfulcoldandfever…’saysMotherhesitantly.

‘Thentakeherhomeandbroilher!Ifyouknowwhat’sgoodforher,whybringhertome?’

MotherandFatherhastilystripmeofmypulloversandknittedunderwear,sparingonlymycottonknickers.

Thedoctorapplieshiscoldstethoscope.I’mstilltremblingfromthethunderofhisangryroars–andnowIshiveralsofromthecold.

‘Shehasn’tgotafever,’thedoctordeclaresseverely.HesignalstoMotherandshecoversmynakedandtrem-blingtorsowiththeshawl.AtthedirectionofaswiftandsecretsignalImiss,FatherandMothermovetoeithersideofmeandfirmlystrokemyarmsandshoulders:and,atmyinstantalarm,makesoothingnoises.

‘Liestill!’thedoctororders,andpetrifiedbyhistone,Iliestill.

Col.Bharuchasaws,hammersandchiselsatmycast,andusingbothhands,tearsitapart.

‘See?Nopain,’hesays,movinghiseyesclosetomine.‘Havealook,’heoffers,helpingmesitup.MotherhastilywindstheshawlroundmyshouldersandIexaminethedoctor’shandiwork.

Iletgomybreathinamassivesighofrelief.Myrightleglooksdead:patheticallythin,wrinkledandsplotchedwithdiscolouredandpalepatches.Theshapeofmyanklehas

definitelychanged.Itjoinsmyfootatamuchmorereasonableangle.OnthewholeI’msurprisinglypleased.Myleglooksfunctionalbutitremainsgratifyinglyabnormal–andfarfrombanal!

Iamdressedandstoodonmybarefeet.Myheelstillclearsthefloor.Col.Bharuchatriesbrieflytopressmyheeldown.

‘Muchbetter!’heannounces,lookingup.‘Seethedifference?’

Myparents’twingeofinitialdisappointmentisatoncereplacedbyreadjustedexpectations.Theynodtheirheadswithadmiringsmilesofsatisfaction.

‘Mindyou,shemustwearhercallipersforsometime,’saysthedoctor:andturningtomeheadds,‘We’llgetyounewones.’Icouldhughim.‘Shestillneedscare…Massage,ultra-violetrays,physicaltherapy.’Heraisesmyrightarmandbendsmytorsototheleft.‘Herrightsideisaffected:shewillhavetoexerciseandstretchherwaistlikethis!’

Mother’seyesarebrimmingwithtears,herbeautifulmouthworking.

Col.Bharuchaplaceshisarmaroundher.‘What’sheretoworrynow?’hesaysgruffly,surprisedatMother’sagitation.‘Bythetimeshegrowsupshe’llbequitenormal.’

Motherblowshernoseinadaintilyembroideredcambrichandkerchiefandtakingthedoctor’shandpressesittohereyes.Fathersniffsandclearshisthroat.

‘Whataboutherschooling?’heasks,maskinghisemotion.Ican’ttellifheisinordinatelypleasedbytheconditionofmyleg–orinordinatelydisappointed.

‘She’sdoingfinewithoutschool,isn’tshe?’saysthedoctor.‘Don’tpressureher…hernervescouldbeaffected.Shedoesn’tneedtobecomeaprofessor.’Heturnstome.‘Doyouwanttobecomeaprofessor?’

Ishakemyheadinafirmnegative.

‘She’llmarry–havechildren–leadacarefree,happylife.Noneedtostrainherwithstudiesandexams,’headvises:therebysealingmyfate.

Mother’smouthisagainworking–hereyesagainbrimming.Anddrivenbyunfathomabledemons,againherguiltsurfaces.‘Idon’tknowwhereIwentwrong,’shesays.‘It’smyfault…Ineglectedher–lefthertothecareofayahs.Noneoftheotherchildrenwhowenttothesameparkcontractedpolio.’

‘It’snoone’sfaultreally,’saysCol.Bharucha,reassuringherasusual.‘Lennyisweak.Somechildwithonlythesymptomsofaseverecoldcouldhavepassedthevirus.’Andthenheroarsashockingpostscript:‘Ifanyone’stoblame,blametheBritish!TherewasnopolioinIndiatilltheybroughtithere!’

AsfarasI’mconcernedthisisinsurgence–anopendeclarationofwarbythetwohundredParseesofLahoreontheBritishEmpire!IamshockedbecauseCol.Bharuchais

thePresidentofourcommunityinLahore.And,exceptforafewdesignatedrenegades,theParseeshavebeencarefultoadoptadiscreetandpoliticallynaïveprofile.Atthelastcommunitydinner,heldontheroofoftheYMCAbuildingontheMall,Col.Bharuchahadcautioned(betweentheblood-chillingwhinesofthemicrophone):‘Wemusttreadcarefully…WehaveservedtheEnglishfaithfully,andearnedtheirtrust…So,wehaveprospered!ButwearethesmallestminorityinIndia…Onlyonehundredandtwentythousandinthewholeworld.Wehavetobeextrawary,orwe’llbeneitherherenorthere…’Andthen,surmountinghisuncharacteristichesitancy,andinthunderousvoice,hede-claimed:‘Wemusthuntwiththehoundsandrunwiththehare!’

Everybodyclappedandgravelysaid:‘Hear!Hear!’astheyalwaysdo,reflexively,everytimeanyoneairsaBritishproverbinsuitablyringingtones.

‘ThegoddamnEnglish!’Ithink,infectedbyCol.Bharucha’sstartlingferocityatthis‘dastardly’(oneofFather’sfavouritewords,justas‘plucky’isMother’s)instanceofBritishtreachery.‘Theygaveuspolio!’Andnotwith-standingthecompatibleandsanguinenatureofmyrela-tionshipwithmydisease,IfeelitismyfirstpersonalinvolvementwithIndianpolitics:theQuit-IndiasentimentthathasfiredtheimaginationofasubjectpeopleandwillsoonsweepawaytheRaj!

Chapter3

AyahandI,arrestedbyadiscordantbugleblast,cometoadeadstopoutsideGodmother’sgate.Thereisabriefrollofdrums.Thetalltin-sheetgatesoftheSalvationArmycompoundopenandthebandandmarchersemergefromtheleafygloamofneemtreesfermentingbehindthewalls.

ItisalwaysashocktoseetherawhandsandfacesoftheEnglishexposedtothelightofday;andasthecolumnmovesawaymymindtransformsitintoaslickredandwhitecaterpillar,itslegsmarching,marching,itshundredsightlesseyesstaringahead.

Atstartlingintervalsthecaterpillarburstsintosound.Drums,buglesandtambourinesclash–andasitcurvesoutofsightroundabendinJailRoaditmanufacturesacuriousvibration,likeaunisonofmuzzledvoicesraisedinsong.

Istandtransfixed,waitingforthecreature’sreturn.AyahtriestodragmeawaybutIresist,andsheleansresignedly–andattractively–againstthewhite-washedgatepost.

Whenthecaterpillarreturns,nowmarchingonoursideoftheroad,theredjacketsandwhitesarisseparatetotakethealienshapesofEnglishmenand-women.ObservedinmicroscopicdissectiontheheadofthecentipedeisformedbyastruttingEnglishmanholdingthestoutpoleofaredflagdiagonallyacrosshischest.OfitsownvolitionhisglanceslidestoAyahand,turningpurpleandshowingoff,hewieldstheflaglikeanacrobaticbaton.

Closebehind,orificesgluedtoconvolutedbrasshorns,struttworedjackets:andontheirheels,formingtheshoulderandchestofthecreature,atight-packedrowofredjacketsbeatingdrums,cymbalsandtambourines,theirleadeneyesattractedtothemagnetleaningagainstthegatepost.

ThesavioursmoveawayandthebitsandpiecesofEnglishmenand-womenfittogetheragaintoformtheelongatedandillusionarycaterpillarofJailRoad.

***

WenolongerusethepramtovisitGodmother’shouse:itisashorttenminutewalk.ButwhenAyahtakesmeupQueensRoad,pasttheYWCA,pasttheFreemasons’Lodge,whichshecalls‘TheGhostClub’,andacrosstheMalltotheQueen’sstatueintheparkoppositetheAssemblyChambers,I’mstillpushedinapram.Iloveit.

QueenVictoria,castingunmetal,ismajestic,massive,overpowering,ugly.HerstatueimposestheEnglishRajinthepark.Iliesprawledonthegrass,myheadinAyah’slap.TheFallettisHotelcook,theGovernmentHousegardener,andanelegant,compactlymuscledhead-and-bodymasseursitwithus.Ice-candy-manissellinghispopsiclestotheothergroupsloungingonthegrass.Mymouthwaters.IhaveconfidenceinAyah’schocolatechemistry…lankandlopingtheIce-candy-mancometh…

ItakeadvantageofAyah’sadmirers.‘Massageme!’Idemand,kickingthehandsomemasseur.Heloosensmylacesandunbucklesthestrapsgrippingmyboots.Takingafewdropsofalmondoilfromoneofthebottlesinhiscruetset,hemassagesmywastedlegandthenmyokayleg.Hisfingersworkdeftly,kneading,pummelling,soothing.Theyareknowingfingers,veryclever,andsometimes,lateintheevening,whenheandAyahandIarealone,theymassageAyahunderhersari.Herlidsclose.Shegrowsstillandlanguid.Apearlywedgegleamsbetweenherlipsandshemoans,afragile,piteoussoundofpleasure.Verycarefully,veryquietly,Imanoeuvremyeyesandnose.Itisdark,butnowandthenadartoftwilightilluminatesasubtleartistry.Mynoseinhalesthefragranceofearthandgrass–andtheotherfragrancethatdistilsinsights.Iintuitthemeaningandpurposeofthings.Thesecretrhythmsofcreationandmortality.Theessenceoftruthandbeauty.Irecallthechokinghellofmilkyvapoursanddiscoverthatheavenhasadarkfragrance.

ThingslovetocrawlbeneathAyah’ssari.Ladybirds,glow-worms,Ice-candy-man’stoes.Sheduststhemoffwithimpartialnonchalance.

IkeepaneyeonIce-candy-man’stoes.Sometimes,inthecourseofanengrossingstory,theytravelsocautiouslythatbothAyahandIaretakenunawares.Ice-candy-manisaraconteur.Heisalsoanabsorbinggossip.Whenthestoryisextragood,andthetentativetoespolite,Ayahtoleratesthem.

SometimesatoesnakesoutandzeroesinonitstargetwithsuchlightningspeedthatIhearoftheattackonlyfromAyah’sstartled‘Oof!’OnceinawhileIpre-emptthebigtoe’sromanticimpulseand,catchingitmid-crawlormid-strike,twistit.Itisameasuretokeepthecandybribescoming.

IlearnalsotodetectthesubtleexchangeofsignalsandsomeofthecomplexritesbywhichAyah’sadmirersco-exist.Dustingthegrassfromtheirclothestheyslipawaybeforedark,leavingtheoneluck,orthelady,favours.Idon’tenjoythegardener’sturnbecausenothingmuchhappensexcepttalk.HetalksandAyahtalks,andhelistensandAyahtalks.Iescapeintodaydreamsinwhichmyfatherturnsloquaciousandmymotherplayful.OrofheroicsinwhichIrescueGodmotherfromthedroolingjawsofhercannibalisticbrother-in-lawwhoisadoctorandvisitsfromwaybeyondtheperimeterofmyfamiliarworld.

Ilearnfast.IgainAyah’sgoodwillandcomplicitybyaccommodatingherneedtomeetfriendsandrelatives.Shetakesmetofairs,cheaprestaurantsandslaughter-houses.Icover

upforherandmaintainacannysilenceaboutherdoings.Ilearnofhumanneeds,frailties,crueltiesandjoys.Ialsolearnfromherthetyrannymagnetsexerciseovermetals.

Ihavemanyteachers.Mycousinshowsmethings.

‘Youwanttoseemymarbles?’heasks,andholdsouttheprettilycolouredglassballsformetoadmireandtouch–andifIsowish,toplaywith.HehasjustreturnedfromQuettawherehehadaherniaoperation.‘Letmeshowyoumyscar,’heoffers,unbuttoninghisflyandexposingmetotheglamorousspectacleofastitchedscarandahandfulofgenitals.Hetoohascleverfingers.‘Youcantouchit,’heoffers.Hisexpressionisdisarming,gallant.Itouchthefinescarandgingerlyholdthegenitalshetransferstomypalm.Webothstudythem.‘Iamalsohavingmytonsilsremoved,’hesays.Ihandbackhisgenitalsandlookathisneck.Ivisualiseared,scallopedscarrunningfromeartoear.Itisapremonition.

SometimesIspenddaysandnightswithmylimberelectric-auntandmyknowingandinstructivecousin.‘Seethispillow?’heasksonenight–andasitmovesneareritresemblesamuzzle.Iscream.Frightened,hecoversmyscreamwiththepillowandsitsonit.Istrugglemadlyatfirstandthenfeebly,andcautiouslyheallowsmetoemerge,screamless.

Thenextday,whenwearealone,mycousin’sfaceloomsconspiratoriallycloseandhesays,‘Comeon.I’llshowyousomething.’

Heleadsmethroughwire-meshdoorstothebackveranda.Hedragsawoodenstoolclosetothewhite-washedwallandclimbingonitpointstoaholeinasmallwhitechinaobjectstucktothewall.‘Seethis?’heasks.‘Putyourfingerthereandseewhathappens.’Hejumpsdownandalmostliftsmetothestool.Heisacoupleofyearsolderthanme.Iraisemyhand,indexfingerpointed,andlookdownathimexpectantly.Henods.IpokemyfingerintothesmalldepressionandanACcurrentteachesmeeverythingIwilleverneedtoknowaboutgullibilityandshock.Thoughmyfacultiesofreason,deductionandlogicadvancewiththeyears,mygullibilityandreactiontoshockremainthesameasonthedayItumbledscreaming,hair,nervesandlimbsspread-eagled,intomycousin’sarms.

Myelectric-auntisaresourcefulwidowaddictedtoquickdecisionsandswiftresults.Thespeedatwhichshemovesfromspottospot–fromdawntodusk–haveearnedheracitation.Sheiscalled,inmomentsofneedandgratitude,bijli:awordthatinthevariousIndianlanguages,withslightvariations,standsforbothelectricityandlightning.

Sheisalsoaddictedtonavy-blue.Sheandhersonshareabedroom.Ithasnavy-bluecurtains,navy-bluebedspreadsandnavy-bluelinendoiliesonthedressingtable.Itis,dependingonmymood,eitherarestfuloragloomyroom.ThenightofmylessoningullibilityandshockIfinditgloomy.MycousinandIspreadmattressesandsleeponthecarpetedfloorofthecheerfulsittingroomnexttothebedroom.

ThatnightIhavethefirstnightmarethatconnectsmetothepainofothers.

FarawayIhearasiren.Tee-too!Tee-too!itgoes,alarmingmyheart.Thenocturnalthrobandshriekinggrowlouder,closingin,comingnowfromthecompoundoftheSalvationArmynextdoor.Itstin-sheetgatesopenacracktoletoutalongkhakicaterpillar.Centipedallegsmarching,marching,itcurves,andasitapproachesElectric-aunt’sgateitmetamorphosesintoasingleGermansoldieronamotorcycle.Roaringupthedrivetheenginestops,asIknowitmust,outsideElectric-aunt’sdoorstep.Thesiren’stee-tootee-tooisnowdeafening.Myheartpoundsatthebrutalityofthesound.Thesoldier,hiscapanduniformimmaculate,dismounts.Carefullyremovingblackglovesfromhiswhitehands,hecomestogetme.

Whydoesmystomachsinkallthewaytohellevennow?IhadmyownstockofIndianbogey-men.Choorails,witcheswithturned-aboutfeetwhoatetheheartsandliversofstrayingchildren.Bearslurking,readytopounceifIdidnotfinishmypudding.Thezoolion.NoonehadtaughtmetofearanimmaculateNazisoldier.Yetherehewas,innightmareafternightmare,comingtogetmeonhismotorcycle.

Irecallanotherchildhoodnightmarefromthepast.Childrenlieinawarehouse.MotherandAyahmoveaboutsolicitously.Theatmosphereisbusinesslikeandrelaxed.Godmothersitsbymybedsmilingindulgentlyasmeninuniformsquietlysliceoffachild’sarmhere,alegthere.Shestrokesmyheadastheydismemberme.Ifeelnopain.Onlyanabysmalsenseofloss–andachillinghorrorthatnooneisconcernedbywhat’shappening.

Chapter4

Ipickupabrother.SomewheredownthelineIbecomeawareofhiselusiveexistence.Heisfour–ayearandamonthyoungerthanme.Idon’trecallhimlearningtocrawlortowalk.Wherewashe?itdoesn’tmatter.

Mybrotherisaloof.Vitalandalert,heinhabitsanothersphereofinterestsandprivatethoughts.Nodoubthetooisbusypickingupknowledge,gaininginsights.Iammorecuriousofhimthanheofme.Hiscuriositycomeslater.Iamskinny,wizened,sallow,wiggly-haired,ugly.Heisbeautiful.Heisthemostbeautifulthing,animal,person,building,riverormountainthatIhaveseen.Heisformedofgoldmercury.Heneverstandsstillenoughtosee.Heturns,ducks,moves,looksaway,vanishes.

TheonlywayIknowtoclaimhisundividedattentionistogethimangry.Ilearntobaithim.HisnameisAdi.IcallhimSissy.HeistooconfusedtoretaliatethefirstfewtimesIcallhimbyhisnewname.Atlast:‘MynameisAdi,’hegrowls,glowering.

ThenextdayIpersist.Hepretendsnottonotice.Intheevening,holdingupasari-claddollIsay,‘Hey,Sissy,look!She’sjustlikeyou!’

Adiraiseshisheadandlookssquarelyfromthedolltome.Hisjeteyesarevibrant.Hisflushedfaceholdstheconcentratedbeautyandvenomofanangrycobra.Andlikeacobrastriking,inonesweepheremovesaspikedbootandhurlsitatme.Istareathim,bloodblurringmyvision.Andhestaresbackcommunicatingcoldfuryanddeathlywarning.

It’snotthathedoesn’twanttoplaywithme.It’sjustthatIcan’tholdhisattentionformorethanafewseconds.Hisunfathomablethoughtsandmercurialplaypatternabsorbhim.Squattingbeforecornersorblankwalls,headbent,fingersbusy,heconcentratesontrains,bricks,mud-balls,strings.Quicklyheshiftstoanotherheapoftoysandgarbageinanothercorner;oroutthedoorsintothegarden,orvegetablepatch,orservants’quartersatthebackofthehouse.

Atnighthe’sintohisnightsuitandfastasleepwhileI’mstillsoakingmychilblainedtoesinscaldingsaltwater–orstandingonastoolbrushingmyteeth.Wesleepinoutsizeelongatedcots.Likeourlooselytailoredclotheswithhugetucksandhems,ourcotsaredesignedtolastalifetime.(Mybrotheroutgrewhiscot.Istillfitintomine.)Ayahtucksinthemosquito-netandswitchesoffthefaintlight.

Isthereanythingtocomparewiththecosyblissofsnugglingbeneathaheavyquiltwithahot-waterbagonafreezingnightinanunheatedroom?Particularlyifyou’vejustdashedfromthebathroomoverabarebrickfloor?Andyou’refiveyearsold?Andfreetogoovertheexcitementsandevaluatetheexperienceofthedayandweavethemintodaydreamsthatdriftintosleep?Thatis,providedthezooliondoesnotroar.Ifheroars–whichatnightisrare–mydaydreamsturnintoquakingdaymares:andthesetonightmaresinwhichthehungrylion,cuttingacrossLawrenceRoadtoBirdwoodRoad,prowlsfromtherearofthehousetothebedroomdoor,andinonebare-fangedleapcrashesthroughtosinkhisfangsintomystomach.Mystomachsinksallthewaytothebottomofhell.

Whetherheroarsatnightornot,Iawakeeverymorningtothelion’sroar.Hesetsaboutitatthecrackofdawn,blightingmydreams.BythetimeIdispelthefearsofthejungleandpeepoutofmyquilt,Adiisalreadyoutofbed.Agreatchunkofhislifeislivedapart:hegoestoaregularschool.

***

Springflowers,birdsandbutterfliesscentandcolourtheair.ItistheendofMarch,andalreadyitishotinthesun.CousinandIcomeindoorsandseemybrother,imbeddedinthesagofacharpoy,fastasleep.Wegentlyturnhimonhisbackandproppedonelbowsscrutinisehisface.

‘He’sputonlipstick,’Cousinsays.

‘Yes,’Iagree.

Hisfacehastheirresistiblebloomofspringflowers.TurnbyturnCousinandIsoftlybrushourlipsandcheeksagainsthisvelvetface,weprybackasleeklickofdarkbrownhairandkisshisforeheadandthecushionedcleftinhischin.Hisvulnerabilityisbreathtaking,andweravishitwithscrutinyandourchildishkisses.Carriedawaybyourardourwebecomerough.Adiwakesupandopensindulgent,jewel-jeteyes.Theyaretrustingandkindasasaint’s.

‘You’veputonlipstick?’Iask,invitingconfidence.

‘No,’hesaysmildly.

‘Ofcoursehehas!’saysCousin.

‘No,I’venot,’saysAdi.

‘CanIrubsometissueandfindout?’Iaskcourteously.

‘Okay,’hesays.

IstroketheKleenexacrosshislipsandlookatit.Itisunblemished.Imoistenitwithmytongueandrubharder.Cousinisarmedwithhisowntissue.Adiwithstandsour

vigorousscouringwiththepatienceoftheblameless.InoticebloodontheKleenex.Thenaturalredinhislipshascamouflagedthebleeding.Astonished,wefinallybelievehim.

‘Heshouldhavebeenagirl,’saysCousin.

BynowAdiisfullyawake.Iwatchhelplesslyasmercurialpreoccupationveilshiseyes.Hebecomesremote.Hisvulnerabilityvanishes.Hekicksout,pushingbackourhandswiththetissues.Heisincontrol.

Passingby,Ayahswoopsdownonhimandpickshimup.Afterhugginghimandnuzzlinghisfacesheabruptlyputshimdownagain,saying:‘HeismylittleEnglishbaba!’

LasteveningAyahtookusforawalkinSimla-pahariandapasser-by,nodoubtimpelledbyhersphericalagiationintospoutingsmall-talk,enquired:‘IsheanEnglish’sson?’

‘Ofcoursenot!’saidAyahimperiously.However,vanitysofteninghercontempt,sheadded:‘Cananydough-facedEnglish’ssonmatchhisspice?Theirlookslacksalt!’

AyahissoproudofAdi’spaucityofpigment.SometimesshetakesustoLawrenceGardensandencourageshimtorunacrossthespaceseparatingnativebabiesandEnglishbabies.TheayahsoftheEnglishbabieshughimandfussoverhimandpermithimtorompwiththeirprivilegedcharges.Adiundoesthebowsoflittlegirlswithblueeyesinscratchyorgandiedressesandwrestleswithtallow-hairedboysinthegrass.Ayahbeams.

***

Onbitterlycolddayswhenicesalesplummet,Icc-candy-mantransformshimselfintoabirdman.BurdenedwithenormouscagesstuffedwithsparrowsandcommongreenparrotsheparadesthepathsbehindtheLahoreGymkhanalawnsandoutsidethePunjabClub.Atstrategicmomentsheplantsthecagesonthegroundandrages:‘Ibreakyourneck,younaughtybirds!Youdotoomuchchichi!Whatwillthegoodmemsahibsthink?They’llthinkInoteachyou.Youlikejunglylionsinzoo.Icutyourthroat!’

Heflourishesabarber’srazor.Itisaninfalliblebait.Clutchesoftender-heartedEnglishwomen,sportingskirtsandtennisshoes,abandontheirgardenchairsanddaintycucumberandchickenteasandwichestorushupandscold:‘Youhorridman.Don’tyoudarecuttheirthroats!’

‘Themfreshparrots,memsahib.Theynotlearndirtywordsyet.Icatchesthemtoday,’coaxesBirdman,plunginghiscraftyhandsintothecages.‘Theyonlyonerupeefortwobirds.’

Hisbonelessfingerssetupsuchasquawkingandtwitteringamongtheparrotsandthesparrowsthattheladiesbecomefrantic.Theybuythebirdsbythedozen,and,cooing,‘Youpoorlittleitty-bittythings,’snugglethemtotheirbesoms.

Afterthekissingandthecuddling,holdingthestupefiedbirdsaloft,theyreleasethem,onebyone.Theirvaliantexpressionsandtriumphantcriesenthraltheraptcrowdofnativegawkersastheyexclaim:‘There!Flyaway,littlebirdie.Go,youpoorlittlethings!’

SquattingonhisheelsBirdmansurveysthetearfulandspiritedmemswithopen-mawedandmarvellingadmiration.Conjuringruefullittlenodsandacatchtohisvoice,heremarks:‘Itgostraighttomama-papa.’Or,sighingheavily,‘Itflytohungrylittlebabiesinnest.’

Andtoday,foreshadowingthepoeticimpulseofhisfuture,wipingtearsandpointingatagiddilyspinningandchirpingsparrow,Ice-candy-mansays:‘Look!Littlesparrowsinging,“See?See?Ifree!”tomad-with-griefwife!’

Ayah,AdiandIwatchtheperformancewithconcealedglee.Everynowandthenweheightenthehistrionicsandencouragesalesbyshouting,‘Cuttheirthroats!Cuttheirthroats!’Wecheerandclapfromthesidelineswhenthebirdsarereleased.

Ice-candy-manresortstohischangeinoccupationonlytwoorthreetimesayear,sohisingenuityworks.Heusuallyclearsapacket.Andifthesalehasbeenquickandlucrative,asonthisSaturdayafternoonjustbeforeChristmas,hetreatsustoamealatAyah’sfavouritewaysiderestaurantinMozangChungi.

Weareregulars.Theshornproprietoracknowledgesuswithasolemnnod.Heisapahailwan:awrestler.CoveringhismassivetorsowithasingletindeferencetoAyah’spresence,heapproaches.Despitethecold,hisshouldersgleamwithsweatandastripedlungiclingstohisbuttocksandlegs.

Wearedirectedtositonanarrowbacklessbench.OppositeusIce-candy-mandrapeshislankandflexiblelengthonanotherbench,andleaningacrossthetableoglesAyah.Hestraightenssomewhatwhenanurchin-apprenticeplonksdownthreetinplatesheapedwithriceandabowlofvegetablecurry.Thericeissteamingandfragrant.Wefalltoitsilently.Ayah’schocolatefingersmouldthericeintosmallgolfballswhichshepopsintohermouth.Sheeatswithherrighthandwhileherlefthandreposesinherlap.

HalfwaythroughthemealIsenseafamiliartensionandasmallflurryofmovement.Ice-candy-man’stoesareinvisiblybusy.Iglanceupjustasasupplicatingsmileonhisfacedissolvesintoapainfulgrimace:andIknowAyah’shandisengagedinanequallyheroicstruggle.

Meanwhilethemoundsofricesteadilydiminish.Outwardlycalm,systematicallypoppinggolfballs,Ayahsignalstheproprietorforanotherhelping.

Afterthemeal,aswedescendthericketywoodenstepsintothecrowdedgully,Ayahtries,tactfully,togetridofIce-candy-man.ButhehoistsAdiontotheseatofhisbicycleandpersistsinwalkingwithustoWarrisRoad.

Atthegateofourhouse,lesstactfully,Ayahsays:‘You’dbettergo.Ihavechores.’

‘Whatchores?’asksIce-candy-man,reluctanttoletAyahgo.

‘Atonofwashing…AndIhaven’tevendustedBaijee’sroom!’

‘Letmehelpyou,’saysIce-candy-man.

‘Yougonecrazy?’Ayahasks.

ImagineIce-candy-manworkingalongsideAyahinourhouse.Mother’dthrowafit!He’snotthekindoffellowwho’spermittedinside.Withhisthuggishwayofinhalingfromthestinkingcigarettesclenchedinhisfist,hisflashyscarvesandreekofjasmineattar,herepresentsashady,almostdisreputabletype.

‘Okay,I’llgo,’Ice-candy-mantemporisesreluctantly,‘butonlyifyou’llcometothecinemalater.’

‘ItoldyouI’veworktodo,’saysAyah,closetolosingpatience.‘AndIdarenotaskBaijeeforanothereveningoff.’

‘Talktomeforawhile…Justalittlewhile,’pleadsIce-candy-mansopiteouslythatAyah,whoseheartisaseasilyinclinedtomeltasIce-candy-man’spopsicles,bunchesherfingersandsays,‘Onlytenminutes.’

AwareoftheimproprietyofentertainingherguestonthefrontlawnAyahleadsustosettleonabaldpatchofgrassatthebackneartheservants’quarters.Thewintersunisdiffusedbythedustandacrimsonbankofcloudsstreaksthehorizon.Itisgettinguncomfortablychillyandmyhairalreadyfeelsdamp.Ayahnoticesitand,drawingmetoher,coversmyheadwithhersaripalloo.

‘Nowtalk,’shesaystoIce-candy-man.‘Sinceyou’resoanxioustotalk,talk!’

Ice-candy-mantalks.Newsandgossipflowoffhisglibtonguelikeatorrent.HereadsUrdunewspapersandtheUrduDigest.Hecan,whenheapplieshimself,readtheheadlinesintheCivilandMilitaryGazette,theEnglishdaily.

Characteristically,Ice-candy-manstartsbygivingusnewsoftheworld.TheGermans,heinformsus,havedevelopedadeadlyweaponcalledtheV-bombthatwillturntheBritishintopowderedash.Alittlelater,driftingclosertohome,hetellsusofSubasChandraBose,aHindupatriotwhohasdefectedtotheJapanesesideinBurma.‘BosesaystheJapanesewillhelpusliberateIndiafromtheAngrez,’Ice-candy-mansays.‘IfwewantIndiabackwemusttakeprideinourcustoms,ourclothes,ourlanguages…Andnotgomouthingthegot-pitsot-pitoftheEnglish!’

Obviouslyhe’squotingthisBose.(SometimeshequotesGandhi,orNehruorJinnah,butI’mfedupofhearingaboutthem.Mother,Fatherandtheirfriendsarealwayssaying:Gandhisaidthis,Nehrusaidthat.Gandhididthis,Jinnahdidthat.What’sthepointoftalkingsomuchaboutpeoplewedon’tknow?)

Finally,narrowinghisfocustoourimmediatesur-roundings,hesaystoAyah,‘Shantabibi,you’rePunjabi,aren’tyou?’

‘Forthemostpart,’Ayahagreeswarily.

‘Thenwhydon’tyouwearPunjabiclothes?I’veneverseenyouinshalwar-kamize.’

Thoughithasneverstruckmeasstrangebefore–I’msoaccustomedtoAyahonlyinasari–Iseethelogicofhisquestionandwonderaboutit.

‘Arreybaba,’saysAyahspreadingherhandsinafetchinggesture,‘doyouknowwhatsalaryayahswhowearPunjabiclothesget?HalfthesalaryoftheGoanayahswhowearsaris!I’mnotsosimple!’

‘I’venoquarrelwithyoursaris,’saysIce-candy-mandisarminglydemure,‘Iwasonlyaskingoutofcuriosity.’

And,catchingusunawares,hisingenuoustoedartsbeneathAyah’ssari.Ayahgivesastart.Angrilysmackinghislegandsmoothinghersari,shestandsup.‘Duffaho!Go!’shesays.‘OrI’llgetBaijeetoV-bombyouintoash!’Applyingallhisstrength,AdirestrainsIce-candy-man’sirrepressiblytwitchingtoe.

‘Arrrrey!’saysIce-candy-manholdinghishandsupasiftostaveoffAyah’sassault.‘Areyouangry?’

‘Thenwhat?’Ayahretorts.‘Youhavenosenseandnoshame!’

Grinningsheepishly,grovellingandwrigglinginthegrasstotouchthehemofAyah’ssari,hesays,‘I’msorry,forgiveme.Iwon’tdoitagain…Forgiveme.’

‘Whatfor?’snapsAyah.‘You’llneverchange!’

Ice-candy-mancoilsforwardtosquatand,threadinghissupplearmsthroughhiscalvesfromtheback,latchesontohisearlobes.Itisapunishingposturecalled‘thecock’,usedinUrdu-mediumschoolstodisciplineurchins.HelookssoridiculousthatAyahandIlaugh.

ButAdi,hisfacegrim,dispensesatotallymirthlessandviciouskicktohisankle.

Ice-candy-manstandsupsoabruptlythathismovementsareablurr.

And,myeyespopping,IstareatAdidanglingintheairattheendofhisrangyarm.Ice-candy-manhasafirmgriponthewaistbandofAdi’swoollentrousersandAdilookslikeanastonishedandstockyspiderpluckedoutofhiswebandsuspendedabovethelevelofmyeyes.

‘I’mgoingtodrophim,’Ice-candy-mansayscalmly.Hetakesalopingstepand,holdingAdidirectlyabovethebrickpavingskirtingthegrass,raiseshisarm.‘Ifyoudon’tgotothecinemawithmeI’lldrophim.’

Ican’tbelievehemeansit.

ButAdidoes.Hisfacescarlet,heletsoutaterrifiedyellandhowls:‘He’lldropme!Saveme…someonesaveme!’

‘I’mgoingtodrophim,’repeatsIce-candy-man.

Ayah’sroundmouthopensinan‘O’,hereyesstare.Seeingherexpression,mywigglyhaircurlstighter.IlookinhorroruponthedistanceseparatingAdifromthebrick.Adikicks,crawlsandsquirmsintheairandyells:‘Saveme!Saveme!Bachao!Bachao!’

AndAyahshouts:‘Puthimdownatonce,oye,badmash!Iwillgotothecinema.’

Ice-candy-mancarefullylowersAdi–facedownanddribblingspit–onthegrass.

Ayahdeftlypullsoffasandleand,lungingwildly,strikesIce-candy-manwherevershecan.Ice-candy-mancowers;andgatheringhislungiabovehisknees,snatchinguphisslippers,managestomoveoutofherreach.Ayahchaseshimrightoutofthegate.

Chapter5

Richmen’swivesandchildrensoartotheSimlaorKashmirHillsinsummer.Wealsosoar,buttothelesserMurreeHillsatthefootoftheHimalayas.

Adiisperchedonatallpony.Iamonadonkey.MydonkeytrotsalongsideandIperceivejusthowshortitis.Mylegsstickoutbeneaththesafetyringonthesaddle.Igriptheringresentfully.Thedonkey-manholdsthereins.Iamnotsparedeventhisindignity!Mydonkeyperchisludicrous.

Iamabouttoshakeheavenandearthtosetthingsrightwhenanastonishingtidalwaveofreliefandfrivolitybarrelsovertheworld.ShopkeepersontheMurreeMallhavepickedoutafewwordsfromthestaticoftheir1944radiosandhappinessstrikesallhearts.Men,women,beast,mountain,tallponyandshortdonkeyallexult.Simultaneouslyweknowthatthewarisover.Wehavewon!Victory!Thewarisover!Facesaroundmearewreathedinsmiles.IncrediblyFatherisblowingawhistlethatuncoilsafoot-longpapertongue.God!Ihaveneverbeensohappy.IwhohavesubversivelyhopedthatthedefectorBoseandtheJapaneseenemywinthewar.AllthesameIamsweptbyasenseofreliefsounburdeningthatIrealiseIwasbornwithanawarenessofthewar:andIrecallthedim,farawayfearofbombsthattingedwithbitternessmymother’smilk.NowonderIwasacolickybaby.

Thegaietyonpeople’sfacesisinfectious.Mymother’sfaceswimsupwithasmileIneveragainsee;andpluckingpapercups,streamersandwhistlesfromtheairshegivesthemtoAdiandme.

FatherseldomvisitsMurreeformorethantwoorthreedaysatatime.HereturnstoLahore.Aweeklaterwecatchabusandfollowhimdownintotheplainswhichthesunhasscorchedandpulverisedintoadustyhell.Wepantunderceilingfans.Andnowthetemperaturessoar.

OurstayinMurreehasbeencutshortbecausetheParseesofLahoreareholdingaJashanprayertocelebratetheBritishvictory.

OnthedayoftheJashanthetemperatureis116°Fintheshade.Atongawaitsintheporch.Hollow-eyedanddazedwithheatwepileperspiringintothetonga.MotherandAyahinthebackandAdiandIupfrontwiththetongaman.Wesitbacktobackonabenchdividedbyaquiltedbackrest.Aflimsycanvascanopysheltersusfromthesun.The

tongaisheldtogetherbytwoenormouswoodenwheelsoneithersideoftheshaftandisbalancedbytheharnessedhorse.Upfrontwearemoresecure–unlessthehorsefalls.

Scarcelyoutofourgate,thehorsefalls.AdiandIshootovertheguardandspillonWarrisRoad.MotherandAyaharesuspendedhighintheair,clingingforalltheyareworthtotheotherendofthesee-saw.AdiandIgetupandscampertooneside.Thetongamanpickshimselfoffthehorsecursing:andtheBirdwoodBarracks’sepoyabandonshispostandrunsforwardtorenderhelp.Ayah’spresencegalvanisesmentomadsprintsinthenoonheat.Itisapityshehasnosucheffectonanimalsthough.

Thetongamanandthesepoylifttheshaftsandassisttheharnessedhorsetostandupright.Adipatsthehorse’srump.Theanimalswisheshisbristlytailandblowswindinourfaces.Thesepoymakesanencouragingsuckingnoisewithhistongueandpushesoneoftheenormouswoodenwheelstostartthetonga.Strainingandquiveringunderthedualburdenofpassengersandheat,theshakenanimaldragsuspastthebarracks,thebarricadingwallsoftheLucyHarrisonSchoolforgirlsnexttoit,upQueensRoad,pasttheprettypinkspreadofthePunjabHighCourtandbehindthesmall-causescourttotheFireTemple.

WeleavethetongamanandAyahtogossipanddozebeneathwhatevershadetheycanfind.

Themainhallofthetempleisalreadyfullofsmoke.Twopriests,sittingcross-leggedandswayingslightly,faceeachotheracrossafirealtar.Theyarerobedinaswollenfrothofstarchedwhitemuslin.TheywearclothmasksliketheoneCol.Bharuchaworeinthehospital.Theirchantingvoicesriseandboominfiercecompetitionandthemaskpreventsspecksofspittlefromprofaningthefire.Theysitonawhitesheetamidstsilvertraysheapedwithfruit–grape,mango,papaya–andflowers.Andthemalidacookedbythepriest’swife.AdiandIjointhechildrensittingpatientlyonawoodenbench–ourcollectivemouthsdrooling.

Thepriestscannotbehurried.Theygothrougharitualestablishedamillenniumago.Theystokethefirewithsilvertongsandfeeditwithsandalwoodandfrankincense.

Itiscomparativelycoolbeneaththehighceiling.Myeyesaregettingaccustomedtothedarkbutsmartingwithsmoke.Motherhasfoundaseatinthefrontrow.ThereisanemptychairbetweenherandCol.Bharucha.Hemusthavegrowntaller,becausehispinkscalpthrustshigherabovehishair-linethanbefore.Godmothersitsnexttohim,fanningherselfandthedoctorwithaslow,rotarymotionofherpalm-leafpunkah.Shecatchesmywateringeyeandwinks.OnlyIeverseeherwink.Herdignifiedbearingandnoblefeaturesprecludewinking.Sheonlyrelaxesherguardwithme.NooneseesherasIdo.Slave-sisterissnatchingafewblessedminutesofsleepinthelastrow.Godmotherknowsshe’sasleep.Sheknowseverything.SlavesistersleepspeacefullybecausesheknowsGod-motherwillnotmind.Godmother,afterall,isnotunreasonable.

Bothpriestsstandup,smoothingtheirbeardsandgarments.Chairssqueakastheladiesgreeteachotherandgraduallyconvergeonthefruittrays.Slavesisterwaddlesplumplyforwardonpainfulbunions,smilingherpatient,obligingsmile,securinghersaribordertoherhair.Thewomenshoousfromthebenchesandsitdowntopeelandcutthefruit.

MotherstandstalkingtoCol.Bharucha.Sheistense,alert,anxioustoplease.Electric-auntjoinsthem,alsotense.Herquick,intelligenteyesscantheroom.Iknowsheislookingforme.GodmotherreleasesmeandIrunuptothem.

‘Whatisthis?’saysCol.Bharucha.Copyingandexaggeratingmylimphelurcheshalfwayacrosstheroomlikeatipsygiraffe.‘Putyourheeldown!Youmustrememberto.’

Motherpurseshershapelymouthandlooksatmesternly.Electric-auntfrowns,herthinlipsatightanxiouslinebeneathhersharpnose.

Col.Bharuchastoopsandpushingdownonthecontractedtendonpressesmyheeltothefloor.‘Massagethebackofherlegdown:likethis,’hesays,kneadingandstretchingmystubborntendon.

Hestraightens,patsmybackanddismissesme.Iknowtheyarebeamingbehindmyback,pleasedwithmyprogresssincetheoperation.Cousiniswaitingformetobefreeofthegrown-ups.

‘Iwanttoshowyousomething,’hesays,drawingmetoawindowinthewings.Hereachesintothepocketsofhisshortsandpullsoutscrapsofcardboard.Heliftsoffonelayerandrevealsapressedbutterfly,itscoloursturnedtopowder,itswingsawry.

‘Holdoutyourhand,’hecommands.Iwithholdmyhand.TherearecertainthingsI’llholdandcertainthingsIwon’t.Cousingropesformyhandand,‘No,’Isay.‘Don’t!’

‘Butit’sforyou,’saysCousin.

‘Idon’twantit!’

Cousinis,foronce,confounded.

Thereisadriftnowtowardstheinnersanctum.Electric-auntbeckonsCousinandMothersignalsme.WestepintotheinnerroomandIcanseethroughtwobarredwindowsandanopenarchwaythemainfirealtar.Itislikeagiganticsilvereggcupandtheflamesaredancingaboveabedofwhiteashes.

IkneelbeforethealtarandtouchmyforeheadtothecoolmarblestepbeyondwhichIcannotgo.Exceptforthepriestswhotendthefireandseethatitnevergoesoutnoonecanentertheinnersanctum.Motherkneelsbesideme.IaskGodtoblessourfamilyandGodmotherandallourservantsandMasseurandIce-candy-man…untilMothersays,‘That’senough!Themeeting’sabouttostart.Hurry!’

AndAdihisses,‘Don’thogGod!’

Weenterthemainhall.Thechairshavebeenrearranged.Col.Bharuchaisstandingbeforethemike,testingitwithpractisedsnapsofhisfingers.‘Hellohello,’hesays,andknocksonitwithhisknuckles.Hestruggleswithbothhandstostretchtherod.MrBankwalla,anofficerattheCentralBankofIndia,hisslightbodycrispanddependableinsweatlesswhiteshirtandwhitetrousers,rushesupobligingly.Betweenthemtheyadjustthemiketosuitthecolonel’sheight.

Thebankermovesback,fleetandunobtrusivebeneathhismaroonskull-cap,tohisseatintheaislenexttohisjollywife.(Hiswifeissoindefatigablyjollythatitissaidaftertheinitialburstofgriefsheevenwisecrackedatherson’sfuneral.LaterIheardshecrackedjokesonherdeath-bedandpreparedtomeetAhuraMazdawithjests,andslywinksatthemourners,whoseappreciativelaughterturnedtoinconsolablegriefwhenthewillwasread.ShelefteverythingtotheTowerofSilenceinKarachi.)

BythetimeCol.Bharuchaclearshisthroat,anditisanimpressivethroat-clearing,weareallsettledinourchairs.

Col.Bharuchatellsus:‘Wearegatheredhere,etc.,etc.TothankGodAlmighty,etc.,etc.’

Themikehastransformedhimfromaplain-speakingdoctorintoaresoundingorator.Buthisrhetorichasacadencethatmakesmymindwander.

SuddenlyIhearhimdeclare:‘Gandhisays,wemuststopbuyingsalt.WeshouldonlyeatsaltmanufacturedfromtheIndianOcean!’

Thecolonelpauses,dramatically,andmyloafingmindbecomesattentive.Thepause,shrewdlytimedtopermitjustthattinylicencesodeartoaParseeaudience,issnappedup.‘WhodoesthisGandhithinkheis?’shoutsanobligingwagpromptlyfromsomewhereinthemiddle.‘Isithisgrandfather’socean?’

Col.Bharucha,smilingamiably,explainsthattheBritishgovernmentischarginganunfairsalttaxand,asaprotest,weshouldnotbuyit.Gandhijeeplanstowalkahundredmilestotheoceantomakesaltforus.Heisevenpreparedtogotojailtomakehispoint!

‘Andwhatdowedowhilehe’sinjail?Walkaroundwithgoitresforlackofsalt?’shoutsthewag.

‘Gotojailforus!’snortsDrManekMody.(HeisGodmother’sbrother-in-law,andishereononeofhisperiodicvisitsfromRawalpindi.)‘Bigdeal!’hebooms.‘There’ssuchademandforA-classinjailsthatthere’snoroomleftforfolklikeus!’

(EventhoughIcannotseehimIcantellit’sDrModybytheamazingvolumeofhisvoice.Heisashort,chubbyman,withatotallybaldandbrownhead.)

‘Yes,’chimesinthefirstwag.‘TheCongressgangstersprovokethepoliceandgetrewardedwithfreeboardandlodging.It’sashame!IproposethattheParseeAnjuman

lodgeaformalprotestwiththeInspectorGeneralofPolice.Whyshouldwebeleftoutofeverything?’

‘Hear!Hear!’agreesthecongregation,andthumpsthearmrestsofitschairsandwoodenbenches.

‘Letusmarchtojailnow!’thewagsays,jumpingtohisfeet.Heisapaunchymanwithaverydarkskin.

Col.Bharucharaisesarestraininghand.‘Nodoubtthemeninjailareacquiringpoliticalglory…Butthisshortcuttofameandfortuneisnotforus.ItisnolongerjustastruggleforHomeRule.Itisastruggleforpower.Who’sgoingtoruleoncewegetSwaraj?Notyou,’saysthecolonel,pointingalongandaccusingfingeratusasifweareharbouringsinfulthoughts.‘Hindus,MuslimsandeventheSikhsaregoingtojockeyforpower:andifyoujokersjumpintothemiddleyou’llbemangledintochutney!’

Wiseheadsnod–Godmother’s,Electric-aunt’s,Slave-sister’s–althoughSlavesister’scanhardlybecalledwise.

‘IhopenoLahoreParseewillbestupidenoughtocourttrouble,’continuesthecolonel.‘Istronglyadviseallyoutostayathome–andoutoftrouble.’

‘Idon’tseehowwecanremainuninvolved,’saysDrMody,whosevoice,withoutaidofmike,islouderthanthecolonel’s.‘OurneighbourswillthinkwearebetrayingthemandsidingwiththeEnglish.’

‘Whichofyourneighboursareyounotgoingtobetray?’asksapracticalsoulwithanimpatientvoice.‘Hindu?Muslim?Sikh?’

‘Thatdependsuponwho’swinning,doesn’tit?’saysMrBankwalla.‘Don’tforget,wearetorunwiththehoundsandhuntwiththehare.’

‘Nooneknowswhichwaythewindwillblow,’thundersthecolonel,silencingeveryonewithhisadmirablerhetoric.‘Theremaybenotonebuttwo–oreventhree–newnations!AndtheParseesmightfindthemselveschampioningthewrongsideiftheydon’tlookbeforetheyleap!’

‘Doesitmatterwheretheylookorwheretheyleap?’enquirestheimpatientvoice.‘Ifwe’restuckwiththeHindusthey’llswipeourbusinessesfromunderournosesandsellourgrandfathersinthebargain:ifwe’restuckwiththeMuslimsthey’llconvertusbythesword!AndGodhelpusifwe’restuckwiththeSikhs!’

‘Why?WhichmaddogbittheSikhs?Whyareyousoagainstthem?’saysDrModycontentiously.

‘Ihavesomethingagainsteverybody,’declaresthevoice,impartialandveryhurt.

‘Order!Order!’saysMrBankwalla.AndCol.Bharuchaclearshisthroatsoeffectivelythatthequestions,answers,andwisecrackssubside.

‘I’lltellyouastory,’thecolonelsays,andsusceptibletostoriesthecongregationandIsitstillinourseats.

‘WhenwewerekickedoutofPersiabytheArabsthirteenhundredyearsago,whatdidwedo?Didweshoutandargue?No!’roarsthecolonel,andhastilyprovideshisownanswerbeforeanyonecaninterrupt.‘WegotintoboatsandsailedtoIndia!’

‘WhytoIndia?’atotallynewwitsittingattheendofmybenchenquires.‘IftheyhadtogosomeplacewhynotGreece?WhynottoFrance?Prettierscenery…’

‘Theydidn’tkickushardenough,’saysDrMody,withheartyregret.‘Ifonlythey’dkickedusallthewaytoCalifornia…Prettierwomen!’

Thereisaneruptionofcommentsandsuggestions.ThemeetingisturningouttobemuchmorelivelythanI’danticipated.Godmother’sbrother-in-lawrestoresorderwithhisbuilt-inmicrophone.‘Shutup!’hebellows,startlinguswiththevelocityofhisvoice.

Col.Bharuchacontinuesasifhe’snotbeeninterruptedatall.

‘Doyouthinkitwaseasytobeacceptedintoanewcountry?No!’hebooms.‘Ourforefatherswerenotgivenpermissioneventodisembark!’

‘Whataboutourforemothers?’someoneenquires.

‘Andourforeskins?’aninvisiblevoicepipesupfromtheback.

‘Mind!Thereareladieshere!’saysthecolonelsternly.Thereisalongpausenoonedaresinterrupt.Satisfiedbyoursilence,thecolonelcontinues:‘Ourforefathersandforemotherswaitedforfourdays,notknowingwhatwastobecomeofthem.Then,atlast,theGrandVazirappearedondeckwithaglassofmilkfilledtothebrim.’Helooksintentlyatourfaces.‘Doyouknowwhatitmeant?’

Knowledgeableheadsnodwisely.

‘ItwasapolitemessagefromtheIndianPrince,meaning:“No,youarenotwelcome.Mylandisfullandprosperousandwedon’twantoutsiderswithadifferentreligionandalienwaystodisturbtheharmony!”Hethoughtweweremissionaries.

‘DoyouknowwhattheZarathushtisdid?Godresttheirsouls?’

Knowingheadsnod,andamongthemIspyCousin’s.Ifeelannoyed.Iamnotprivytoinformationthatisrapidlybeingrevealedasmybirthright.EvenifGodmother,Mother,SlavesisterandElectric-auntdidnottellme,Cousinoughttohave!

Col.Bharucha,againansweringhisownquestion,continues:‘Ourforefatherscarefullystirredateaspoonofsugarintothemilkandsentitback.

‘ThePrinceunderstoodwhatthatmeant.Therefugeeswouldgetabsorbedintohiscountrylikethesugarinthemilk…Andwiththeirdecencyandindustrysweetenthelivesofhissubjects.

‘TheIndianPrincethought:whatasmartandcivilisedpeople!Andhegaveourancestorspermissiontoliveinhiskingdom!’

‘Shabash!Welldone!’saytheParsees,regardingeachotherwithadmirationandcongratulatoryself-regard.

‘But,asyousee,wehavetomovewiththetimes,’roarsthecolonel,hisoratoricalcapacitiesinfullform.‘Timestandsfornoone!’

‘Hearhear!Hearhear!’

EvenIapplaudedoncue.

‘Timeandtidewaitfornoman!’

Thunderousapplause.

‘Letwhoeverwishesrule!Hindu,Muslim,Sikh,Christian!Wewillabidebytherulesoftheirland!’

ApolitesmatteringofHearhears!Thecongregation,waftedonself-esteemandBritishproverbs,doesnotwanttobebroughtbacktoearth.

‘Aslongaswedonotinterferewehavenothingtofear!Aslongaswerespectthecustomsofourrulers–aswealwayshave–we’llbeallright!AhuraMazdahaslookedafterusforthirteenhundredyears:hewilllookafterusforanotherthirteenhundred!’

LikeEnglishproverbs,AhuraMazda’snameelicitsenthusiasm.

‘WewillcastourlotwithwhoeverrulesLahore!’continuesthecolonel.

‘IftheMuslimsshouldruleLahorewouldn’twebesafergoingtoBombaywheremostParseeslive?’asksatremulousvoiceweakenedbyathirteen-hundred-year-oldmemoryofconversionsbytheArabsword.

Aslightnervousnessstirsamidstthetimorous.Thereismuchturningofheads,shiftingonseatsandwhispering.

‘WeprosperedundertheMuslimMogulsdidn’twe?’scoldsCol.Bharucha.‘EmperorAkbarinvitedZarathushtischolarstohisdarbar:hesaidhe’dbecomeaParseeifhecould…butwegaveouroathtotheHinduPrincethatwewouldn’tproselytise–andtheParseesdon’tbreakfaith!Ofcourse,’hesays,‘thosecockerelswhowishtogotoBombaymaygo.’

‘AgainBombay?’saysthemansittingattheendofmybenchwhohadobjectedtoourcomingtoIndiainthefirstplace.‘Ifwemustpackoff,let’sgotoLondonatleast.WearetheEnglishking’ssubjectsaren’twe?So,weareEnglish!’

Thesuggestioncausesanuproar:drowned,eventually,byDrManekMody’sremarkablevoice.‘Andwhatdowedo,’heasks,‘whentheEnglishking’sVazirstands

beforeuswithaglassfullofmilk?TellhimwearebrownEnglishmen,cometosweetentheirliveswithadashofcolour?’

MrBankwalla,preciseasthecrispnewrupeenoteshehandlesatthebank,says,‘Yes.Tellhim,wecameacrossonacoalsteamer…anddropasmalllumpofcoalinthemilk.Thatwillconveytheunspokenmessageofloveandharmony.’

‘Aslongasweconductourlivesquietly,aslongaswepresentnothreattoanybody,wewillprosperrighthere,’roarsthecoloneloverthemike.

‘Yes,’saysthebanker.‘Butdon’ttrytoprosperimmoderately.And,remember:don’tevertrytoexerciserealpower.’

Thewagattheback,who’sbeenchampingatthebittobuttin,standsupandirrelevantlyshouts:‘Thosewhowantfourwivessayaye!Thosewhowantvegetarianbhatsandfartssaynay!’

Thereisaraucousmedleyofayesandnays.ThereisnothinglikeagooddoseofbathroomhumourtoputusParseesinafinemood.Itisimpossibletoconductthemeetingafterthis.

Weemergeintothesun’sbrassyblastandourfacescrinkleinself-defence.Motherremindsustorubtheashfromourforeheads.Ayahlooksasifsheismelting.Thetongamanremovesthehorse’sfeedsackandwepileintothetonga.

Chapter6

IsitonthesmallwoodenstoolandAyah’ssoapyhandsmovealloverme.Waterfromthetapfillsthebucket.Ayah,squattingbeforeme,rubsbetweenmytoes.I’mticklish.Deliberatelysherubsthesolesofmyfeetand,screaming,Ifalloffthestoolandwiggleofftheslipperyfloor.Shepinsmetothecementwithherfootanddousesmewithwaterfromthetinbucket.BythetimeI’mdried,powderedandliftedtothebedAyahisdrenched.

NowitisMother’sturn.Ayahcallsherandsheappears:willing,conscientious,devout,herheadcoveredbyagauzywhitescarfandsmellingofsandalwood.Shehasbeenpraying.

EversinceCol.BharuchatuggedatmytendonandpressedmyheeldownintheFireTemple,Mothermassagesmyleg.Iliediagonallyonthebed,mysmallraisedfootbetweenherbreasts.Sheleansforwardandpushesbacktheballofmyfoot.Sheappliesallherfragilestrengthtostretchthestubborntendon.Herflesh,likesatin,shiftsundermyfoot.Igazeather.Shadedbythescarfherfeaturesacquiresharperdefinition.Thetippedchincurvesdeeptomeetthelowerlip.Thelips,full,firm,taperfromalavish‘M’inwidewings,theiroutlineetchedwiththeclarityofcutrubies.Hernoseisslender,slightlybumped:andthetautcurveofhercheekbonesisframedbyajawasdelicatelyovalasanegg.Thehintofcoldness,commontosuchchiselledbeauty,isoverwhelmedbytheexuberantqualityofherinnocence.Ifeelsheisbeautifulbeyondbearing.

Herfirmstrokes,herhealingtouch.ThemotherlinessofMother.Itreachesfromherbendingbodyandcocoonsme.Mythighstwitch,relaxed.

Hermotherliness.HowcanIdescribeit?Whileitisthereitisall-encompassing,voluptuous.Hurt,heartacheandfearvanish.Iswim,rise,tumble,float,andbloatwithbliss.Theworldiswonderful,wondrous–andIaperfectfitinit.Butitswitchesoff,thismotherliness.Iopenmyhearttoit.Iwelcomeit.Again.Andagain.Ibegintounderstanditson-offpattern.Itistreacherous.

Mother’smotherlinesshasauniversalreach.Likeherinvoluntaryfemalemagnetismitcannotbeharnessed.Sheshowersmaternaldelightonallandsundry.Iresentthislargesse.AsFatherdoesherunconsciousandindiscriminatesexappeal.Itisaprostitutionofmyconceptofchildhoodrightsandparentalloyalties.Sheismymother–fleshofmyflesh–

andAdi’s.Shemustloveonlyus!Otherchildrenhavetheirownmotherswholovethem…Theirmothersdon’tgoaroundlovingme,dothey?

***

AportionofourhouseatthebackislenttotheShankars.Theyarenewlymarried,fatandloving.Sheislighterskinnedthanhimandhasastoutbraidthatsnugglesdownherbackandculminatesinalargesatinbow,red,blue,orwhite.AtaboutfiveeveryeveningShankarreturnsfromwork.Hetrudgesupthedrive,upalongthesideofourhouse,andsomewhereinthevicinityofourbathroomletslooseamatingcall.

‘Darling!Darling!I’vecome!’

Nomatterwhereweare,Ayah,AdiandIrushtothewindowsandpeeroutofthewirenetting.

‘Mylife!MyLord!You’vecome!’rejoicesGita,asifhisreturnisatotallyunexpecteddelight.

Athismate’sansweringcallShankarpuffsout,andfurtherdiminishingaslenderleatherbriefcasehecarriesunderhisarm,breaksintoathuddingtrot.

Becausetheirsisanarrangedmarriage,theyarenowsteamilyinlove.IdropinonGitaquiteoften.Sheisalwayscookingsomethingandmixedupwiththefumesofvegetablesandlentilsisthesteamoftheirnight-longecstasy.ItisverylikethedarkfragranceMasseur’sskilfulfingersgeneratebeneathAyah’ssari.Gitaisalwayssmiling–bubblingwithgladness.Sheisfullofstories.ShetellsmethestoryofHeerandRanjah,ofRomeoandJuliet.

Ayah,too,knowsstories.Sittingonthelawninfrontofthehouseshestretchesherlegsanddreamilychewsonabladeofgrass.Harithegardener,squattinginhisskimpyloincloth,isdiggingthesoilaroundsomerosebushes.Hemovesontotrimthegardeniahedgebythekitchen.Itisthemiddleofthedayinmid-February.

Pansies,roses,butterfliesandfragrances–thebuzzofbeesandfliesandofvoicesdriftingfromthekitchen.Theoccasionalclip-clopoftongahorsesonWarrisRoad,andbicyclebellsandcarhorns.Hawkswheelinganddistantlyshriekingbeneathamassivebluesky.IthinkofGod,Ipickupadandelionandblow.‘Helovesme–helovesmenot.Helovesme–helovesmenot…’

Ayahhums.Irecognisethetune.

‘TellmethestoryofSohniandMahiwal,’Isay.

Ayah’shumbecomeslouderandshehalfcroons,halfspeaksthePunjabifolktaleimmortalisedinverse.WedrifttoruralPunjab–toabreezestirringinwheatstalksandyellowmustardfields.Tovillagebellesweavingthroughthefieldstowells.

Ayah’seyesarelargeandeloquent,rimmedwithkohl,softwithdreams.‘BeautifulSohni–handsomeMahi-wal…’

Theirloveisdefiant,daring,touching.Theirfamiliesbitterenemies.SohniisnotallowedtomeetMahiwal.

ThewideChenabflowsbetweentheirvillages,separatingthelovers.Butlateonenight,slippingfurtivelyfromhervillage,riskingtreacherouscurrentsandfiercereprisal,Sohnifloatsacrossonaninflatedbuffalo-hidetoherlover.

Mahiwal’sdelightisboundless.Hecelebratesinrapturousoutburstsofverse.ButheisdistraughtwhenhediscovershehasnothinginthehousetofeedhisSohni.

Itistoolatetosendforsweets–thebazaarisclosed,‘Butsuchisthestrengthofhispassion–thetendernessofhislove,’saysAyahloweringherlidsoverherfarawayanddreamyeyes,‘thathecutsahankoffleshfromhisthigh,andbarbecuingitonskewers,offershisbelovedkebabs!’

Ayahcannotspeakanymore.Hervoiceischoked,hereyesstreaming,hernoseblocked.

‘Doessheeatit?’Ienquire,astonished.

‘Shegobblesitup!’saysAyah,sobbing.‘Poorthing,shedoesn’tknowwhatthekebabsaremadeof…’

Intheendthedoomedloversdie.

***

Ashout,acoupleofcurses,alaugh,breakawayfromthehumofvoicescomingfromthekitchen.Andthenarecedingpatterofbarefeet.

Theyareafterthegardener’sdhoti.

AyahandIjumpupfromthegrassandfollowingthepatteringfeetrunalongthesideofthehouseandpastGita’swindow.

‘What’shappening?’Gitacallsfromwithin.

‘They’reafterHari’sdhoti!’Ishout.

Weapproachtheservants’yardand,sureenough,seetheraggedscufflearoundHari.Hari’sspare,darkbodyisalmosthidden.AyahstopstoonesideandIdiveintothetangleoflimbsyellingforallI’mworth,contributingmymiteofrowdyismtothegeneralrow.

Yousaftheodd-jobman,Greek-profiled,curly-haired,towersmischievouslyoverHari.Everybodytowersoverthegardener–eventhesweeperMoti.I,ofcourse,amstillfarfromtowering.AsisPapoo,thesweeper’sdaughter,whocomesgallopingandwhoopingfromtheservants’courtyard,aninfantwobblingdangerouslyonherhip,andbrandishing

alongbroom.Herwide,boldmouthflashingahandsomesmilesheplungesherself,theinsouciantbabe,andthefluffybroomintothescuffle.

YousafhasagriponHari’shand–whichishangingontotheknotathiswaist.Yousafcasuallyshakesandpullsthehand,tryingtoloosenitsholdontheloin-cloth,andHari’sslight,tautbodyrocksbackandforthandfromsidetoside.

ImamDin,genial-faced,massive,towersbehindHari.Heisourcook.Hisdustyfeet,shodincurly-toedleatherslippers,areplacedflatapart.Hedrumshischest,flexeshismusclesandemitsthefiercebarrukcrieswithwhichPunjabivillagewarriorsbluff,intimidateandchallengeeachother.‘Ovay!’heroars.‘I’llchewyouupandIwon’tevenburp!’Majestically,good-naturedly,helungesattheclothbetweenthegardener’slegs.

Hariishavingahardtimefendingoffthecook’shandwithhissparearm,andalsocopingwithMoti’sslyattacks,andPapoo’sticklingbroom.Thewasherman,whohasbroughtourlaundryfortheweek,hasalsojoinedthemêlee.Wearelikeapackofpuppies,worryingandattackingeachotherinahigh-spiritedgambol.

Butweplaytorules.Hariplaysthejester–andheandIandtheyknowhewillnotbehurtordenuded.Hisdhotimightcomeapartpartially–perhapsexposeaflashofblackbuttocktospicethesport–butthishappensonlyrarely.

Itisagood-naturedrompuntilsuddenlythreeshrillandfamiliarscreechesblastmyears.‘Bitch!Haramzadi!Mayyoudie!’AndMuccho’sgraspinghandreachesfortherootofherdaughter’sbraid.Thegaunt,bitterfingerscloseonthehair,yankingcruelly,andPapoobowsbackandstaggersbackwardsatanimprobableangle.Shefallssittingonhersmallbuttocks,herlegsstraightout;stillholdingthejoltedandblinkinginfantonherhipandthebroominherhand.

‘Haram-khor!Slut!Work-shirker!Movemyeyesfromyou,andoffyougo!’shrieksMucchoinungovernablerage,rainingsharp,hardslapsonPapoo’sheadandback.

Ayahswoopsdowntosnatchtheinfanttosafety,andwithanoutstretchedlegtriestofendofftheblows.WeabandonHari.Andthemen,Hariincluded,grouparoundPapoo,settingupaprotectivebarrierofarmsandhands,andmuttering:‘Forgiveher,Muccho,she’sjustachild…You’retoohardonher…’

TheycannotphysicallyrestrainMuccho.Handlingawomannotrelatedtothemwouldbeanimpropriety.Herhusband,Moti,daresnotinterfereeither.Mucchowouldmakehislifeintolerable.Submissiveinallotherrespects,Muccho’smurderoushatredoftheirdaughtermakesherirrational.

Despitetheinterveningarms,Mucchomanagestopoundherdaughterwithherfistsandwithswift,viciouskicks.HerhandsprotectingherheadPapoorollsinaraggedballinthedust,screaming,‘Hai,I’mdead.’

IhateMuccho.Icannotunderstandhercrueltytoherowndaughter.Iknowthatsomedayshewillkillher.FromtheimprobableangleofPapoo’stwistedlimbs,I’msureshehasalreadydoneso.

Papooliesdeathlystill,crumpledinadustyheap.Ayah,holdingMuccho’ssononherhip,dipsherpalloointoamugofwaterandspongesthedustfromPapoo’slifelessface.‘Idon’tknowwhatjinngetsintohereverytimesheseesPapoo,’shedeclares.‘Evenastepmotherwouldbekinder…Afterall,what’stheinnocentchilddonethat’ssoterrible?’

‘Whatdoyouknow?’Mucchoscreams.‘She’snoinnocent!She’sacurse-of-a-daughter…Disobedient,bonelazy,loosecharactered…she’llshameus.She’llbethedeathofme,thewhore!’

‘Howcanshebeyourdeath?You’vealreadykilledher!’saysImamDin.

ImamDinrarelyshowsangerandhisharshnessintimidatesMuccho.Afraidshemighthavegonetoofar,sheshakesPapoo’sshoulderroughly,asiftoawakenherfromsleep.‘She’llbeallright:don’tcarryonso,’shetellsImamDin.

‘Oye,Papoooo…Oye,doll,’shesayswithaffectedaffection.‘Comeon,getup.’

ShelaysPapoo’sheadonherthighandpinchinghercheeksforceshermouthopen.PapooshowsthewhitesofhereyesasMucchopourswaterbetweenherteethfromthemugAyahbrought.

SuddenlyMucchocurses–andshiesasifblinded.Papooisspittingafinesprayofwaterstraightintoherface.AsMucchoraisesherhandtolashoutPapooleapsup,miraculouslywhole.Skippingnimblyfromhermother’slunges,Papoojerksherboyishhipsandmakesdark,grinningfacesandrudeandmockingsoundsandgestures.Allatonceshepretendstogolimpand,againrollinghereyesuptoshowtheirwhites,crumplesdefencelesstotheground;andthenspinninglikeabundleofragsinagale,flingingherlimbsabout,twistsawayfromMuccho’seagerclutches;dodging,jeering,nowtantalisinglyclose,nowjustoutofreach.PapooisnotlikeanygirlIknow.Certainlynotliketheotherservants’children,whoarebrowbeatenintoearlysubmission.Sheisstrongandhigh-spirited,andit’snoteasytobreakherbody…Buttherearesubtlerwaysofbreakingpeople.

‘WaittillIfixyou,youshaitan!Youchoorail!’Mucchoscreamsvindictively.‘You’vegotajinninyou…butI’llknockitoutorI’mnotyourmother!JustyouseewhatIhaveinstoreforyou…It’llputyouright!You’llscreamtothedead…Mayyoudie!’

WelaughatPapoo’sfeigning–andherfunnyfaces–andhermother’sranting.ThemenstarttodriftawayandPapoo,followedbyacursing,shriekingMucchoaimingstonesather,imitatesmylimp–andlurchinghorribly,runsoutontheroad.

Papoo,recognisingthemanipulativepowerofmylimp–andperhapsempathisingwithmycondition,sometimesaffectsit.Sheneverdoessooutofanymalice.Besidesshe

knowsitaggravatesMucchonoend.

Chapter7

AyahcallsImamDintheCatcher-in-the-kitchen.Hesitsinacorneronawickerstoolneartheopenpantrydoorandgrabsanythingsoftthatentersthekitchen.Sittingit,him,orher,onhislaphegentlyrocks.Ayah,I,Adi,Papoo,strayhens,pups,kittensandRosyandPeterfromnextdoorhaveallhadourturn.RosyandIarebewilderedbyImamDin’sbehaviour.AdiandPeter,belongingperhapstothesamespecies,arelessconfusedandmoreaggressive.

OnedayIcomeuponadazedRosyrockingdizzilyonImamDin’slapandIpullheroff.‘Don’tdothat,youdamnfool!’Isay,unleashingmybottled-upfury.‘Whydoyoudothat!’

ImamDingivesasheepishgrin,geniallypullsusbothsquirmingonhislap,offersuspuffsfromhishookahandproceedstotellusweshouldnotmind.Itiswhatheplayfullycallsonlyalittle‘masti’–abitofnaughtiness.

Andhetellsme,‘Lennybaby,don’tswear–swear-wordsdon’tbecomeyou.’

Iknow.Adicanswearandit’sabigjoke.Rosycancurseandlookcute.Papoocanletflyastringofinvective,comparedtowhichthetongawallah’sinvectivesoundslikealullaby,andmanagestoappearstunninglyroguish.AndIcannotevensayadamned‘damnfool’withoutbeingtolditdoesnotsuitme!

ImamDinpossessesasixthsense–asensitiveantennathatbeamshimachartofourmovements.AndnomatterhowstealthilyAyahorIsneakintothekitchen,heisreadytopounce.HeknowsexactlywhoitisandheneverpouncesonMotherorYousaforHari.Orus,ifwearefollowedbyanyofthem.

ImamDinistoleratedbecauseofthegreybristlesinhiscloselycroppedhair.Theypermithimtogetawaywithlibertiesthatinayoungermanwouldprovoke,ifnotthewrathofGod,atleastdireconsequencesfromAyah.Asitis,GodlookstheotherwayandAyahmerelypullsawayfromhimsaying,‘Haveyounoshame?Lookatyourgreyhairs…FearGod,atleast!’

ImamDinistall,big-bellied,barrel-chested,robust:hebicyclestwentymilestoandfromhisvillageonceamonthtoimpregnatehisfourthwife.Happilyheisthreetimeswidowedandfourtimeswed.Heisthemostrespectedelderinhisvillage;andhisbenigntemperamentandwisdomhaveearnedhimapositionofrespectinourhouseandamong

theotherservantsonWarrisRoad.Heissixty-fiveyearsold.Nowyouseewhyheisallowedacertainlatitude?Indulgedeven,youmightsay?

Rockingapart,Ilikehimandtaketohimmycomplaints.SodoesAyah.Heisafairandimaginativearbitrator–andwhenAdigrowsupabit,andIgrow,andAdiresolutelypeepsthroughacrackinthebathroomdoorwithasingle-mindeddeterminationthatislikeanelementalforce,ImamDinistheonlyonewhocanhandlehim.

TwiceImamDinhastakenmetohisvillage.Ihaveonlyavaguerecollectionofpleasurablesensations.Iwastooyoungthen.

Itisnotyetwinter.IhavebeenbadgeringImamDinforthepastweektotakemeonhisnextjunkettohisvillagehome.

‘Lennybaby,I’mnotgoingtomyvillage,’hesays,sighingheavily.‘Ineedtogotomygrandson,DostMohammad’s,village.It’stoofar…PirPindoiswaybeyondAmritsar…FortymilesfromLahoreasthecrowflies!’

‘Itmaybetoofarforalittlecrow;butit’snottoofarforastrongoldoxlikeyou,’saysAyah.Sheistoastingphulkas(miniaturechapatties)ontheglowingcoalfireanddeftlyflippingthemwithtongs.‘Poorchild,’shesays.‘Shewantssomuchtogo…Itwon’tbreakyourbacktotakeher.’

‘Notonlymyback,mylegstoo!’saysImamDin.‘I’mnotsoyounganymore…I’llhaveaheartattackmerelyconveyingmyselfthere.’

‘Goonwithyou!’saysAyah.‘Youshouldtalkofgrowingold!I’llknowthatwhenIknowthat!’

‘I’llneverbetoooldtobotheryou,’murmursImamDin,sighing,pushinghishubble-bubbleawayandadvancingfromhiscorneronAyah.

Ayahwhirls,tong-handed,glowingironpointedatImamDin.

‘Arreybaba…’saysImamDinhunchinghisshouldersandholdinghishandsoutdefensivelyinfront.‘Istillhaven’trecoveredfromthelasttimeyouscarredme.Aren’tyouashamed…burningandmaimingaharmlessoldmanlikeme?’

‘Iknowwho’sharmlessandwhoisn’t!Goon,sitdown!’shecommands.

ImamDincollapsesmeeklyinhiscorneranddrawingdeeplyonthehookah,causingthewaterinthesmoke-filtertogurgle,offersherapuff.

ButAyahisinadeterminedmood.‘Willyoutakeherwithyouornot?’shedemands,tongsinhand:andImamDincapitulates.

‘Arreybaba,you’reaHitler!I’lltakeher.Eventhoughmybacksnapsintwo!Eventhoughmylegsfalloff!I’lltakeher.’

‘Sheweighslessthanthisphulka,’saysAyahturningherbackonusandtossingathindiskofwheatonthefireuntilitisswollenwithtrappedair.

ThenextmorningAyahwakesmeupwhenitisstillnight.Shehelpsmetodressquietly:wrestlingmyarmsintolastyear’scoatandmyearsintoahorriblepinkpeaked-capElectric-auntknittedmetwoyearsago.ImamDinandAyahhaveasmallaltercationinthekitchen.Rather,AyahscoldsandImamDinonlyprotestsandpacifiesaffably.Idon’tknowwhattheargumentisabout,butIcanguess.ImamDinmusthaveattemptedwithsomepartofhisanatomytheseductionIce-candy-manconductswithhistoes–withlessaudacityperhaps:andperhapswithlessingenuity–but,atlast,Ayahisappeased–andproperlyapologisedto–andwecycledownourdrivewiththefirstfaintsmudgeofdawndilutingthenight.

IsitonasmallseatattachedtothebarinfrontofImamDinandhislegs,likesturdypistons,propelusatastaidandunalteringpacethroughthegulliesandhuddledbazaarsbehindQueensRoad,thenalongtheMallpastthestatelypinksprawloftheHighCourt,andtheconstrictedalleysrunningononesideofFather’sshop.Itisanilluminatingexperience–myfirstglimpseoftheawakeningmetropolisoftwomillionbestirringitselftofaceanewday.

Atthecrackofdawn,Lahore,thecityknownasthegardenoftheMoguls,turnsintoatoilet.Creepingsleepilyoutofsaggingtenementsandhovelsthepopulacesquatsalongalleywaysandunpavedstreetedgesfacingcrumblingbrickwalls–andthindarkstainstricklebetweentheirfeethalfwaydownthealleys.

Cyclebellringing,ImamDinandIperambulatethroughtheprofusionofbaredLahoribottoms.IhangontothehandlebarsaswewobbleimperturbablyoverpotholespastaviewofbacksidesthedarkhueofPunjabisoil–andthesmooth,plumpspheresofyoungwomenwhohidetheirfacesintheirveilsandbaretheirbottoms.Theearlyriserssquatbeforetheirmugs,lostintheprivatecontemplativeworldoftheirablutions,andonlythechildrenfacethestreetunabashed,turningtheirheadsandbrighteyestolookatus.

PastDataSahib’sshrine,pasttheenormousmarbledomesoftheBadshahimosquefloatinginagreymist,andjustbeforewecrosstheRavibridgewerattlethroughthesmallPathansectionoftown.NowIseeonlyfiercetribesmenfromthenorthernfrontiersaroundtheKhyberandBabusarPasseswhodescendtotheplainsinsearchofwork.TheyleavetheirfamiliesbehindinflintyimpoverishedvalleysconcealedinthearidandmassivetumultoftheKarakorams,theHinduKushandtheHimalayas.Theycanaffordtovisitthemonlyeverytwoorthreeyears.Thetribesmen’sbroad,baredbacksidesaremuchpaler,andsplotchedwithred,andstrongdarkhairgrowsdowntheirbacks.InplaceofmugstherearesmallmoundsofstoneandscrapsofnewspaperandImamDinsniffs:‘Whatmannerofpeoplearethesewhodon’tcleantheirarseswithwater?’

AparticularlypalebottomarrestsImamDin’sattention.Theskinispink,stillfreshandtinglingfromcoldmountainwinds.

‘So.WehaveanewPathanintown!’hemusesaloud.

Atthatmomentthemountainmanturnshishead.Hedoesnotliketheexpressiononourfaces.Fulloffuryhesnarlsandspitsatus.

‘WelcometoLahore,brother,’ImamDincalls.

MonthslaterIrecognisethefacewhenIseeSharbatKhan,stilltouchyandbewildered,bentintentlyoverhiswhirringmachineashesharpensknivesintheMozangChawkbazaar.

Thesunisup,dispellingthemist.Filthywithdust,exhausted,werollintoWagah,avillagehalfwaytoAmritsar.Wehavecoveredsixteenmiles.I’vestoppedtalking.ImamDinisbreathingsohardI’mafraidhereallywillhaveaheartattack.Hepedalsslowlydowntheruttedbazaarlaneand,lettingthecycletilttooneside,stopsatateastall.

Afterabreakfastoffriedparathasandeggswegetarideatopastackofhayinabullock-cart.ImamDinstretchesanarmacrosshisbicycle,andlulledbythecreakingrhythmofwoodenwheels,wefallasleep.TwomilesshortofPirPindothecart-driverprodsusawakewithhiswhip.

Werattlealongapathrunningbetweenirrigationditchesandmustardfields.Aswecutthroughacornfieldasmallboy,followedbythreebarkingdogs,hurtlesoutofthedeepeninglightgatheredinthestalks.Hechasesus,shouting,‘Oye!Whoareyou?Oye!What’reyouupto?Oye!Cornthief!Cornthief!’

Thecyclewobblesdangerously.Cursing,ImamDinkicksout.Aribbypupyelps,andbacksaway.ImamDinroars:‘Oye,turdofDostMohammad!Don’tyourecogniseyourgreat-grandfather?’

Rannastopsshort,peeringatusoutofsmall,wide-seteyes.Hebendstoscrapesomeclayfromthetrackandthrowsitatthedogs,shooingthemaway.Heapproachesusgingerly,awkwardly.Heisalittletallerthanme.Hisskinisalmostblackinthedusk.Healreadyhassmallmusclesonhisarmsandshoulders.Awell-proportionedbody.Butwhatattractsmemostishisbelly-button.Itprotrudesaninchfromhisstomach,likeatruncatedandcheekyfinger.(Later,whenheseesmewalk,Icantellheisequallytakenbymylimp.)

AssoonasRannaiswithinrangeImamDinministerstwoquickspankstohishead;and,thepunishmentdispensed,introducesus.‘Saysalaamtoyourguest,oye,mannerlessfellow!’

Rannastaresatme,hismouthslack.Histeethareverywhite,andalittlecrowdedinfront.

‘Haven’tyouseenacitygirlbefore?’ImamDinrapsRanna’sheadlightly.Rannaflinches.‘Whyaren’tyouwearingashirt,oye?Shamelessbugger…Gotellyourmotherwearehere.Wewantsupper.TellDostMohammadwe’rehere.’BothDostMohammadandChiddaareImamDin’sgrandchildren.Muslimcommunitiesliketokeeptheirgirlsinthefamily;somarriagesbetweenfirstcousinsarecommon.

Rannaappearstoflyinhisskimpydrawers,thepalesolesofhisfeetkickingupdustashedissolvesdownthepath.

InRanna’svillagewedwellclosetotheearth.Sittingonthefloorweeatoffclayplates,withourfingers,andsleeponmatsspreadontheground,breathingtheearth’sodour.

ThenextmorningRannaandIrompinthefields,andRanna,fascinated,copiesmylimp.Iknow,then,thatlikePapoo,hereallycaresforme.Ilethimlimpwithoutcomment.Inreturn,heshowsmehowtomouldareplicaofhisvillagewithdung.And,lookinggenerouslyandintentlyintomyeyes,permitsmetofeelhisbelly-button.Itevenfeelslikeafinger.

Hissisters,KhatijaandParveen,barelytwoorthreeyearsolderthanus,alreadyweartheresponsibleexpressionsofmucholderwomen.Liketheothergirlsinthevillage,theyaffectthemannerismsandtoneoftheirmotherandaunts.Theyareprettygirls,withlarge,sereneeyesandaskininclinedtoflush.Painfullyshyofme,theyaredistressed–andperplexed–bythedisplayofmytwig-likelegsbeneathmyshortdress.(Idon’twearmycallipersasmuchnow.)Theydon’tknowwhattomakeofmycroppedhaireither.Busywithchores,basketsofgrainstucktotheirtinyhips,theyscuttleaboutimportantly.

EveryshortwhileRannasuspendsplaytoruntohismother.Chiddaiscookingattheclayhearthintheircourtyard;shefeedshersonandmescrapsofchapattidippedinbuttermilk.

LaterinthebluewinterafternoonabunchofbeardedSikhpeasants,theirlonghairwrappedinlooseturbansorinformallydisplayedintop-knots,visitPirPindo.TheyarefromDeraTekSingh,aneighbouringvillage.ThemenofPirPindo–thosewhoarenotoutworkinginthefields–comefromtheirbarnsandcourtyardsandsitwiththeSikhsinathickcirclebeneathahugesheeshamstandinginapatchofwildgrass.

Theroughgrasspricksmybottomandthighs.Rannahassidledintohisfather’slap.PromptedbyImamDin,hewearsabuttonlessshirthehasclearlyoutgrown.IsitbetweenDostMohammadandJagjeetSingh;aplump,smiling,bow-leggedSikhpriest,agranthi.KhatijaandParveen,lookinglikeminiaturewomenofeightandnine,theirheadsmodestlycovered,bringuspilesoffragrantcornbreadfriedinbutterandasteamingclaypotofspicymustard-greens.IseethewisdomoftheirbaggyshalwarsandlongkamizesasIfidgetinthegrass,tuggingatmydress.

TheSikhgranthi,grey-beardedandbenign,beckonsthegirls,and,shyeyeslowered,theycometohim.Hestrokestheircoveredheadsandsays,inPunjabi,‘Maytheseven

gurusblessyouwithlonglives.’Hedrawsthemtohimaffectionately.‘EverytimeIseeyou,youappeartohavegrowntaller!We’llhavetothinkaboutarrangingyourmarriagessoon!’HeleansacrossmeandaddressesDostMohammad.‘Don’tyouthinkit’stimetheirhandswerepaintedyellow?’

JagjeetSinghhasalludedtothehenna-decoratedhandsofMuslimbrides.Thesistersducktheirheadsandhidetheirmouthsintheirveils.Rannafindsthesuggestionoutrageouslyfunny.Slippingfromhisfather’slap,hisbelly-buttonpointedatthemlikeajabbingfinger,hejumpsupanddown.‘Marriedwomen!’hechortles.‘Ho!Ho!Marriedwomen!’

Alreadypractisedintheconducttheyhaveabsorbedfromthevillagewomen,thegirlstrynottosmileorgiggle.Theymusthaveheardtheirmotherandaunts(asIhave),say:‘Hasitophasi!Laugh(and),getlaid!’I’mnotsurewhatitmeans–andI’msuretheydon’teither–buttheyknowthatsmilingbeforemencanleadtodisgrace.

Wehaveeatenandbelched.Thehookah,stokedwithfreshtobacco,isbeingpassedamongtheMuslimvillagers.(Sikhsdon’tsmoke.)Inthesatedlullthevillagemullahclearshisthroat.‘Mybrothers,’hesays.Andasoureyesturntohim,runningfrailfingersthroughhissilkywhitebeard,hesays,‘Ihearthereistroubleinthecities…HindusarebeingmurderedinBengal…Muslims,inBihar.It’sstrange…theEnglishSarkarcan’tseemtodoanythingaboutit.’

Nowthathehasstartedtheballrolling,themullahraiseshiswhiteeyebrowsinaforeheadthatisalmosttranslucentwithage.Helooksabouthimwithanxious,questioningeyes.

Thevillagechaudhry–sittingbyImamDinandthemullah–says,‘Idon’tthinkitisbecausetheycan’t…IthinkitisbecausetheSarkardoesn’twantto!’Heisalargeman,asbig-belliedandbroad-beamedasImamDin,butatleasttwentyyearsyounger.Hehaslarge,clearblackeyesandanimposingcleftinhischin.Ashetalks,heslowlystrokeshisthick,up-twirledmoustache:withoutwhichnovillageheadmancanlooklikeachaudhry.‘Butallthatisinthecities,’hecontinues,asifhehasconsideredtheissueforsometime.‘Itwon’taffectourlives.’

‘I’venotcomeallthiswaywithoutareason,’saysImamDin.Thevillagers,whoarewonderingwhyheisvisitingthem,lookathimattentively.Herubshisfacewithbothhands;asifitpainshimtostatethereason.‘Idon’tthinkyouknowhowseriousthingsaregettinginthetowns.Slykillings;riotingandbatonchargesbythepolice…longmarchesbymobs…TheCongress-wallahshavestartedanewstunt…theysitdownontherailtracks–womenandchildren,too.Thepoliceliftthemoffthetracks…Butoneofthesedaysthesteamengineswillrunoverthem…Oncearoused,theEnglisharesavages…

‘ThenthereisthisHindu-Muslimtrouble,’hesays,afterapause.‘Uglytrouble…Itisspreading.Sikh-Muslimtroublealso…’

Thevillagers,SikhandMuslim,eruptinprotest.

‘Brother,’theSikhgranthisayswhenthetumultsubsides,‘ourvillagescomefromthesameracialstock.MuslimorSikh,wearebasicallyJats.Wearebrothers.Howcanwefighteachother?’

‘BareyMian,’saysthechaudhry,givingImamDinhisdueasarespectedelder,‘I’malerttowhat’shappening…Ihavearadio.ButourrelationshipswiththeHindusareboundbystrongties.Thecityfolkcanaffordtofight…wecan’t.Wearedependentoneachother:boundbyourtoil;byMandipricessetbytheBanyas–they’reourcommonenemy–thosecityHindus.Tousvillagers,whatdoesitmatterifapeasantisaHindu,oraMuslim,oraSikh?’

ImamDinnods.Thereisasubtlechangeinhisface;helookscalmer.‘AslongasourSikhbrothersarewithus,whathavewetofear?’hesays,speakingtothegranthi,andincludingtheotherSikhswithaglance.‘Ithinkyouareright,brothers,themadnesswillnotinfectthevillages.’

‘Ifneedsbe,we’llprotectourMuslimbrotherswithourlives!’saysJagjeetSingh.

‘IampreparedtotakeanoathontheHolyKoran,’declaresthechaudhry,‘thateverymaninthisvillagewillguardhisSikhbrotherswithnoregardforhisownlife!’

‘Wehavenoneedforoathsandsuch,’saysthemullahinafragileelderlyvoice.‘Brothersdon’trequireoathstofulfiltheirduty.’

Later,whenthemullah’svoicecallstheeveningprayer,andtheSikhshavebeguntosaunteracrossthefieldstotheirvillage,DostMohammadcarrieshissontoasmallbrickmosquewithagreendomeinthecentreofPirPindo.Istaybackwiththewomen.

***

Weareduetoleaveinanhour.Chiddahasawakenedearlytopreparebreakfast.Isitonthefloorcrosslegged,eatingmyparathaandomelette.Parveenshufflesclosertome.Withextremedelicacy,herfaceflushedandconfiding,shewhispersintomyear.Ittakesmeawhiletorealise,sheisaskingifmyhairwascutonaccountoflice.

‘Ofcoursenot!’Isay.Idon’tcarewhohearsme.‘It’sthecityfashion.’Iglareather.‘Evenmymother’shairisshort.’

Chidda,squattingbythehearth,summonsherdaughter.Rappingherontheheadshesays:‘Whotoldyoutobeuncivil?Whotoldyoutoaskquestions?Haven’tItaughtyoutomindyourtongue?Go!Getoutofmysight!’shesays.Rannaquicklygrabshissister’sshareofthebreakfast.

Abunchofvillagersaccompaniesusforamile,wheelingImamDin’sbicycleforhimaswewalk.IleavePirPindowithaheavyheartandaguiltyconscience.

Chapter8

WhenIreturnfromImamDin’svillagetotheelevatedworldofchairs,tablesandtoiletseats,ImamDincontinueshiseffortstokeepontherightsideofAyah.Sheisthegreatestinvoluntaryteacherever.Hepliesherwithbeautifullyswollenphulkashotoffthegriddle,slatheredwithbutterfatandsprinkledwithbrownsugar.Hepreparesseparateanddeliciousvegetariandishesforher.Infactheis,toalargeextent,responsibleforhersphericalattractions.Wherewouldshebewithouthisextraservingsofbutter,yoghurt,curryandchapatti?Wouldn’tshelooklikealltheotherstringy,half-starvedwomeninIndiawhomonelooksatonlyonce–andneverturnsaroundtolookattwice?

HecontinuestoappeaseAdiandmewithdizzyinginhalationsfromhishookah;andchickengibletsandliver,turnbyturn,onthoseoccasionswhenmyparentshaveguestsandhecookschicken.

Myparentsentertainoften:andwhenguestsareexpectedwearefedearly.AdiandIsitacrosstheoilclothonasmalltableagainstthewall,awayfromthesilvercutleryandembroidereddinnercloth.Yousaffoldsthestarchedwhitenapkinsintofancypeacocksandstuffstheirpropsintolong-stemmedcrystalglasses.Flowersblazeinsilvervases.

Glitterandglory,butverylittlefood.Weknowtheguestswillbeserveddelectablebutsmallportions.

Wehavealreadysharedthechickenliver,andtodayitismyturnforthesinglegiblet.Iplaceitonaside-plate,savingitfortheendwhenIcanchewandsuckonitforlonguninterruptedmoments.InoticethemovementofAdi’seyeballsunderhislidsastheysneaktothecorners,peeratthegibletandslipback.Thisonlyenhancesthequalityofmypossession.Iamatpeace–thereishonourevenamongthieves–andthefearofreprisal.Icasuallyplacemylefthandabovetheplateandmanoeuvreittoshieldthegiblet.Idon’twishtoputunduestrainonAdi’shonour.

Asithappens,theprecautionisunnecessary.IraiseaglassofwatertomylipsandAdi’sswifthandstrikes.Thegibletisjammedintohismouthandswallowedwhole.Histhroatworkslikeaboaconstrictor’sandhisfaceturnsred.Igrabathismouthandheopensitwide,saying‘Aaaaaa!’

Thereisnothinglefttoretrieve.

Whathurtsmemostishimswallowingmygibletlikeapill.Noteventastingit.Itisanaffronttomysenseoffairplay.Igrabhishairandletoutablood-curdlingshriekthatbringsMotherrushingfromthedrawingroomandYousaf,ImamDinandAyahfromthekitchen.

MotherspanksAdi,andAdi,cursingandfightingback,ispickedupbyYousafandspiritedawayintothedarknessoutside.

Ayahcarriesmescreamingintothekitchenandproceedstosplashmyfaceatthesink.ImamDinpopsachickenheartintomymouth.YousafcarriesAdibacktothekitchen.Adi’smouthisworking.Ittoohashadsomethingpoppedintoit.Iwonderwhat?Anuneasytruceiscontemplatedaswescrutiniseeachother’sruminatingmouths.Ashortwhilelaterwheneveryoneisbusypreparingdinnerweslipunobservedbeneaththedinnertable,friendsagain.

Wehavedonethisinnumerabletimes.Onewouldimaginethatsomeonemightthinktolookunderthetableandchaseusawaybeforedinnerisserved.

Thetableissupportedbystandsofpolishedwood.Thestandsareheldtobyabeamwhichrunssixinchesabovethefloor.Weroostquietlyonthebeamincloth-screenedtwilight,amidstadisplayoftrousercuffs,sariborders,ankles,shoesandamedleyoffragrance.

RosyandPeter’sparentsarepresent:wecantellbytheirlegs.Hisarecrossedattheankles,smellfranklyofcow-dungandarepronetoshakeinandoutattheknees.Hersareplantedsolidlysidebysidebeneathhersari.Peter’sfatherisaturbanedandbeardedSikh.Heisnotpermittedtocuthishairorshave–noteventhehairofhisarmpitsorcrotch.Peterhastoldusthis.

TheirmotherisAmerican.Shetiesherblondehairbackinasevereknotandalwayswearsawhitecottonsariwithwideborders.SometimesIfeelshedoublesasoneofthemarchingSalvationArmyband-women.Sheisgreen-eyedandverywhiteandplacidandother-worldly.Shecarriesonwithwhateversheisdoing–whichisforthemostpartamystery–andpaysscantattentiontotheworld.Nothingthatherchildren,orherhusband,docanwipetheplacidlookfromherfaceordisturbherunhurriedmovements.

Herhusbandisnotabadman.MrSinghdoesnotbeatherorwhite-slavetrafficinher.ButhehashabitsthatwoulddriveMotherupthewall…I’veheardhersayso.Heroamsonlonghairylegsinloosecottondrawers,barefoot.Hemilkshiswaterbuffalohimself.HeconversesloudlyinvituperativePunjabiandheclearshisthroatandspitsaround–generallyconductinghimselflikeacoarseJatinavillage.MotherexpectsmorerefinedconductfromamanmarriedtoanAmericanwoman.

Theyareinfrequentguests.

Thisappearstobeaneveningdedicatedtoneighbourlybrotherliness.TheotherguestsarefromtheBirdwoodBarracks:InspectorGeneralofPoliceandMrsRogers.Heistall,colourless,hefty-moustached,pale-eyebrowed;andshe,soft,pretty,plumpandsubmissive–withafascinatingproclivitytocleanoutandaroundherchildren’searswithahandkerchiefdampenedwithspit.

Theirtwochildrenareyoungerthanus.Theonlyreasonwecountenancethematallisbecauseoftheirglowingears.

Thereareonlyfourgueststodinnertonight,plusmyparents–whichmakessix.Fathercalculatessixportionstoachicken.Hencethesinglegiblet.

MeanwhileFatherhaslaunchedhisemergency-measuresjoke.

ABritishsoldierandaturbanednativefindthemselvessharingacompartment.TheyaretravellingbytheKhyberMailtoPeshawar.TheIndianliftsabottleofScotchtohismouthfrequently.Hedoesnotofferanytothesoldier.WhentheIndianleavesthecompartmentforamomentthesoldierstealsahastydraughtfromthebottle.

AgaintheIndiangoesout,andthetommysneaksanotherswig.

Theygettotalking.ThesoldierconfideshetookadrawortwofromtheIndian’sbottleofScotch.‘Sinceyoudidn’tofferittome,oldchap,Ihelpedmyself!’hesayscompanionably.

Thenativeisaghast.

‘Butthatismyurineinthebottle!’heexclaims.‘Myhakimprescribeditasacureforsyphilis…’

Poorsoldier.

FatherandMotherhootwithlaughter.TheirSikhguestisinguffaws.Andtwice,unabletoconstrainhisappreciation,MrSinghinsertstwofingersinhismouthandemitspiercingwhistles.HisAmericanwife,Ithink,titters.

IcannotseethembutIdoubtiftheRogersmanageevenasmile.AllIsee–andbarelyescape–isaviciouslittlekicktheInspectorGeneralofPolicegivesthebeam.Hisboots,smellingfaintlyofhorse-dungandstronglyofshoepolish,keepstabbingthewood.

Fatheraddsapostscript:‘Youknow–Ilearnttheotherday–therewasnosyphilisinIndiauntiltheBritishcame…’

‘Youwon’tbeabletoblameeverythingonusforlong,oldchap,’saysInspectorGeneralRogers.‘Thatoldbugger,Gandhi,isuptohisoldbagoftricks.’

‘WewillhaveSwaraj!’declaimsMrSinghindeafeningbelligerence.AsiftheEnglishman,insteadofhintingattheprematuredepartureoftheBritish,hasjustdeniedhimHomeRule.

‘Youthinkyou’llbeuptoit,oldchap?’saysMrRogerssnidely.

‘Whynot?’shoutsMrSinghasifheisarguingwiththeInspectorofPoliceacrossahockeyfield.‘IamuptorulingyouandyourEmpire!YourecruitallourSikhsoldiersintoyourWorldWarNumberTwoandwewinthewarforyou!WhyforethenyouthinkwecannotdoHomeRule?’

MrSingh’sbroadPunjabiaccentandloudvoiceneverfailtoannoyMother.ShemusthaveindicatedherdispleasurewithsomegesturebecauseMrsSinghplacidlysays,‘Don’tshout,dear.’

‘Iamnotshouting!’hollersMrSingh.‘I’mtellingthisman:QuitIndia!Gandhijeeisonafast,’hewarnsthepoliceofficer.‘Ifhedies,hisbloodwillbeonyourhead!’

‘ThatwilyBanyaisanexpertonfastinguntodeathwith-outdying,’saystheheftilymoustachedpolicemandemurely.

‘Andwhatifhedies?’questionsMrSinghrighteously.‘Youmarkmyword.Onedayhewilldie!Thenwhatyouwilldo?’

‘I’lltellyouwhatI’lldo.I’llcelebrate!’saystheInspectorGenerallosinghispatience.

‘Youwillnotcelebrate!Youknowwhy?Becauseriversofyourbloodwillflowinourgutters!’saysMrSinghinasarcasticsing-song.Heshakeshiskneesinandoutinanengagingrhythmandbangshisfistonthetable.IcantellbytheswiftlittlestabsoftheInspectorGeneral’sshoeonthewoodthathetooisangry.

‘Riversofbloodwillflowallright!’heshouts,almostasloudlyasMrSingh.‘NehruandtheCongresswillnothaveeverythingtheirway!TheywillhavetoreckonwiththeMuslimLeagueandJinnah.IfwequitIndiatoday,oldchap,you’llbloodyfallateachother’sthroats!’

‘Hindu,Muslim,Sikh:weallwantthesamething!Wewantindependence!’

InspectorGeneralRogersrecovershisImperialphlegm.‘Mydearman,’heintones,‘don’tyouknowtheCongresswon’tagreeonasingleissuewiththeMuslimLeague?TheCabinetMissionproposedaFederationoftheHinduandMuslimmajorityprovinces.Jinnahacceptedit;GandhiandNehrudidn’t!

‘TheyevenrejectedLordWavell’ssuggestionforanInterimGovernmentwithamajorityCongressrepresentation!They’relikethethreebloodymonkeys!Theyrefusetohear,orseethatJinnahhasthebackingofseventymillionIndianMuslims!ThosearrogantHindushaveblownthelastchanceforanundividedIndia…GandhiandNehruareforcingtheLeaguetopushforPakistan!’

‘Andwherewillthisso-calledPakistanbe?’enquiresourSikhneighbourwithwitheringandsnickeringsarcasm.

‘TheywanttheMuslimmajorityprovinces:Punjab,Sind,Kashmir,theNorthWestandBengal,’repliesthepoliceofficer,asifcoachingabackwardchild.IcanimaginethehaughtyflareofhisEnglishnostrils.

‘Theyareonlysayingthattobeinabetterbargainingpositionandyouarestringingthemalongbecauseofyourdivide-and-rulemonkeytricks!’accusesMrSingh.‘Youalwayssetoneupagainsttheother…YoujustgiveHomeRuleandsee.Wewillsettleourdifferencesandeverything!’

‘Whowill?MasterTaraSingh?’Itisacontemptuous,curl-of-the-liptoneofvoice.

‘Yes.Heismyleader.Iwillobeyhim!’MrSinghsaysthissoquietlyandfirmlythatforamomentIwonderifsomeoneelsehasspokeninhisstead.

TheInspectorGeneralmakesaverypeculiarsound.Thenhesays,‘TheAkalisareabloodybunchofmurderingfanatics!’

EvenIcantellit’satactlessthingtosay.

MrSingh’srhythmicallyknockingkneesgrowperfectlystill.Inonequickmovement,drawinghislegstohischair,almostknockingitover,hestandsup.Everybody’sfeetmakeerraticmoves.AdiandI,terrifiedofdiscovery,retractourlegsandcowerinhunched-upbundles.

Fatherhasstoodupalso.IhearhimsayinPunjabi:‘Oye,sitdown,Sardarjee…Isay,yaar,don’tmindtheAngrezSahib.Hedoesn’tknow…’

ButbeforeFathercanfinishthesentenceMrSinghcutsin:‘Ohyes?Heknowsverywell!’andoneofhislegscompletelydisappears.Thereisaclatterofcrockery,aheavythumpoverourheads,andthreevariouslypitchedfeminine‘Oh’s!MrSinghmusthaveleanedclearacrossthetable.

‘Jana!Taketheforkaway!’Mothershouts.

‘Don’tyoudaretouchhim!’screamsMrsRogershysterically.‘Oh!He’llblindhim!’

‘Putthatforkaway,dear,’saysMrsSingh,hervoicequaveringintheefforttosoundfirm.

IrealisewithalittlethrillofexcitementrunningupmyspinethatMrSinghhastriedtostabtheEnglishman’seyeswithafork:andsinceMrRogershasnotcriedout,theattempthasfailed.Nobloodhassofarbeenshed.

Father’slegsskittlebehindMrSingh’ssolitaryleg.Thereisabriefscufflingsound.Apieceofcutleryfallsclatteringonthetabletop.MrRogersremainsdisappointinglyquiet.ObviouslyMrSinghhasbeende-forked.ThenMrSingh’swidebuttpoundsdownonthecane-bottomeddiningchair.

‘Tellhimtoapologise!’heroars,almostwailing,shufflingonhisseat.

‘Gotohell,youfathairyslob!’spitsthepoliceofficer,hisshortbreathbetrayinghisjoltednerves.

‘Please,’pleadsMother.‘Pleaseapologise.’

IcanvisualiseMother’shandontheInspector’sarm.None,exceptFather,canresisthertouch.

Thereisatensepause.

‘Oh,allright…I’msorry,oldboy!Ishouldn’thavesaidthat,’saystheEnglishmangruffly.

InsandalledfeetFathertoddlesbacktohisownseat,andMrSingh’smuscularthighscommencetheirrhythmictwitchingwithrenewedvigour.

MotherandMrsRogerschatterexcessivelyabouttheweather.Suddenlytheybecomequiet.

‘Youknow,oldchap,’InspectorGeneralRogershasjustsaidtoMrSingh,‘ifyouSikhsplantokeepyourlandsinLyallpurandMontgomery,you’dbetterstartfraternisingwiththeMuslimLeague.Ifyoudon’t,theMuslimswillthrowyouoffyourrichlands.’

‘Thatmother-fuckerisn’tbornwhocanthrowusout!Wewillthrowthemout!andyouout!’MrSinghbasheshisfistonthetablewithsuchforcethatthecutleryandcrockeryjangle.

‘Whowantspudding?’trillsMothershrilly,loudlybangingaspoonagainstherglass.

Inthestartledsilencethatfollows,MrsRogersenthusiasticallywarbles:‘Oh,I’dlovesomepudding!’

AndMrsSingh,musteringalltheemphasisofwhichsheiscapable,says,‘Metoo!’

Inadeterminedefforttofloodwithoiltheprecariouslytranquillisedwaters,MothertellsFather,‘Janoo[avariationonJana],youmusttelleverybodythatjokeaboutthecannibalsandthepadre’swifethatyoutoldme!Aboutbreakfastinbed…’

SincewhendidFatherstarttellingMotherjokes?Motherhasthishabitofvoicingherfantasies…Ifshepersistsinhervisionsofconjugalbliss,I’mafraidshewilllosetouchwithreality.

Thereareotherjokes.FatherandMothercrackupwithhootsthatI’msurecanbeheardbythelioninhiszoo.BeneaththetableAdiandImimictheirlaughter,takingcaretotimethewhoopsandblendourvoices.MrSinghisbreathlesswithlaughing.Hestampshisfeet,hereandthere,unawareofthehavocheiscausingbeneaththetable.

Aftertheyarethroughwiththepudding,andthethimblefulsofliqueurs,AdipinchesMrsSingh’scalfandIpinchMrsRogers’s.EventheimperturbableMrsSinghshrieks.

Theirfeetflyuptoourchestsandchins.Thetable-clothisraisedandsixbewilderedfacespokeunder.

Weemerge.Motherisangry.Apprehensive.SheglancesatFatherand,takinghercuefromhisamusedcountenance,relaxes.ShebeamsatusinthatwayIhavebeguntonoticeandresent:her‘other-people-are-around’way.Fatherlookspleasantandevenmakesindulgentsounds.Yousafgathersusbytheearsandpropelsustobed.

Father’sdinnerpartyjokesneverfail.TheRogershavescarcelyeaten.Overtheyearsitsavesthousandsofrupees’worthofchicken,lamb,caramelcustardandotherpartyfare.

HalfasleepIcanstillhearthemlaugh.WasthatreallyFather?thatcommunicativepersonmaking‘pooch-pooch’noiseswithhislipsandkindlysaying,‘Getalongyoutwo!’asYousaftookusfromtheroom?andthathooting,rollickingwomanmyremoteandsolemnmother?

***

AtaboutthistimeIbecomeawareofasecond-handMorrisMinorinourmidst.Ithasacrankupfronttostarttheengine,aradiatorthatconsumescountlesskettlesofboilingwater,andafive-man-powercrewtopush-starttheeight-horse-powermotor.

Thesnapofthecranknowfeaturesasoneoftheregularnoisesofthemorning.Togetherwiththelion’sroar,thebustleofdomesticactivitytoprovideFatherwithhisnewspaperandcupsoftea–andthebattleMucchowageswithPapoo–itawakensme.Inmynightsuit,barefoot,Igototheveranda.Thecrankchangeshandseveryfiveminutes.ImamDinisatit.Onehandonthecarbonnet,adusterwrappedroundthehandleforafirmgrip,helurchesmightilyandtheengineburps.Hestraightensandpressesthesmallofhisback.

Haritakesover.Stoopingbeforethehandlelikeafriskyterrierheenergeticallyturnsthecrankwithbothhands.

Adiburstsoutofthediningroomdoorinhispyjamas,holdinghistoothbrush,followedbyAyah’sshoutsandthenbyAyah.Hetoohasacrackatthecrank.

IhelpAyahpryhimlooseandMotitakesover.

IgotogreetFather.Heisinthebathroom,enthronedonthecommode.Withagreatrustlingofnewspaper,preoccupiedandmute,hesitsmeonhisbarethigh.

Fatherisinagoodmood.So,Mothertooisinagoodmood.Shegivesmeahug.SheputstoothpasteonFather’stoothbrush.ShetellsmetotakeFather’semptycupandsaucertothepantry.ButFatherlatchesontomewithsuchashowofspeechlessanguishandconsternationatthethoughtofbeingpartedfrommethatMothersays,‘Letitbe.Yousafwilltakethem.’

Shesmilesindulgently:asifshecouldcrossmyfatherifshehadamindto.

***

Fatherhasatwenty-minutenapafterlunch.Notnineteen,nottwenty-one,preciselytwenty.Heknotsakerchieftightlyroundhiseyesandliesdownflatonthebedwithhissandalson.Motherremoveshissandals,hissocksifheiswearingsocks,blowstenderlybetweenhistoes,andwithcooingnoisescaresseshisfeet.

Withasternfingeronherlipsshehushesthehousehold,untilFather’sinternalalarmclockcauseshimtojumpoutofbed,andwithinfourminutesontohisbicycle.

AfterlunchonaluminousNovemberSaturdayI’midlingonmycot,fillingmytediumwithdreams,whenahushedrushofsoundcomesfrommyparents’bedroom.Nottheharshangrysoundsthatstillmewithdreadfulapprehension,butthekindofnoisessignifyingFather’sfrolicsomemood.FathertakesalongerbreaksomeSaturdays.

Ileapfrommybedandburstintotheirroom.

MotherandFatherarestandingattheoppositeendsoftheirjoinedbeds.‘Janoo!Don’tteasemelikethis…Iknowyou’vegotit:Isawit!’

Mother’svoiceteetersbetweenamusementandawheedlingwhine.SheisavirtuosoatjugglingtherangeofhervoiceandachievingtheexactbalancewithwhichtohandleFather.Fatherhastheknackofextractingthemosttalentedperformancesfromusall–andfromallthosewhoworkforhim.

‘Jana!’Mothersaysinthroatyexasperation,‘youknowI’mgoingtogetyou!’andshelungesaroundthebed.

Father,limberinhisstripedcottonnightsuitandmaroondressinggown,maintainsastrategicdistance.‘Don’tbefoolish,’hesayswithfakeandsotto-voceirritability.Consciousoftheservants,myparentssquabbleinlowvoicesand,beingamoreprivateperson,Fatherismoreparticular.OutsidetheirwindowYousafisshavingtheleavesfromthetreeswithascythe,assistingthehalf-heartedLahorifalltocompleteitstask.

Motherclutchestheheadboardandtriestododge,takingastepthiswayandthat.Then,climbingonthebed,shescramblesacrossthemattressonallfours.

Fatherskipsawayeasily.‘Stoppesteringme,’hesays,‘I’mgettinglateforwork.’

‘Iwon’tletyougo,Jana,’saysMotherinavoicesotearfullychildishthatitcannotpossiblypresentathreattoFather’sauthority.Turningappealinglytome,herbosomheaving,sheenlistsmysupport.

‘Lenny,catchhim.’

‘Stopactinglikeachild,’Fathersaysdisgustedly.Hespreadshishandstoshowthatheisnotconcealinganything.

ButMother,anexpertatreadinghisface,says,‘Iknowyouaresmilingunderyourmoustache,Jana.Iloveitwhenyouarethisway.’Andattunedtothenuanceunderlyinghisdisgustedvoice,sheknowsshecanpersist.‘I’llgetmyhandsonthemoney,ormynameisn’tBunty.’

Irunroundthebed,exaggeratingmymodifiedlimp,andgrabholdofFather’sleg.

‘Oneminute.Oneminute,’hecoaxes,looseningmygripandmisleadingme.TheinstantIreleasehisleghevaultsthroughthecurtainsintothenarrowstudy,and,swiftlyshuttingthedoors,drawsthebolt.

‘Jana!Letmein,Jana,’Mothercriesshakingthedoorandrattlingthelooseironbolt.Ibangonit.Yousafandhisscythehavemovedtoshaveanothertreeandthewintrysunshinesthroughitsbaredbranches.

‘Youwillbreakthedoor,stupidtwit!’criesFatherinaharsh,hushedvoice.Uncomfortablyawareoftheubiquitousservants,hepullstheboltandopensthedoor.

MotherandIrushhimexcitedly.Expectingthecharge,FatherstaggersbackandplonksdownonthesetteewithMotherandmeontopofhim.Mother’ssearchinghandsmovealloverhisdressinggown,andbeneathit,probinghispockets,crotchandothercrannies.

KnowingnowI’mlookingformoney,Ialsostrokeandpathisclothes.

‘You’vehiddenit,Janoo,’criesMotherindismay.‘ButI’llfindit!I’mnotabouttogiveup!’

HeavingherselfoffFather,determinedlyandmethodicallyMotheropensandshutsdrawersinaricketyolddeskandinasteelfilingcabinet.Fatherloungesonthesetteelookingsmug.ButwhenMotherstridestowardsthelargeteakcupboardatthefarendoftheroomheboundsforwardand,spreadinghishands,standsbeforeit.Theheavypanelsonthetophalfofthealmirahconcealaneatarrayofnarrowdrawers,andthelowerhalfiscomposedoftwosetsofdeeperdrawers.

WeflingourselvesatFather.MywiryFatherisstrong,butMotherhastheadvantageofhervoluptuousweight.Inthetugofwarthatensueswemanagetoopenthedoorpanels–andtokeepthemopen–despiteFather’sdesperateeffortstodislodgeus.

Mother,breathingheavily,plungesherhandshereandthereandwithatriumphantcrysprintsoutoftheroom,herstubbyfingersclosedonalargewadofnotes.

‘Oye,uloo!’Fathersays,rushingafterher.‘It’snotmymoney,youcrazy!I’llbringyouyourhouse-keepingmoneyfromtheoffice.’

‘I’lltakeonlywhatIhaveto,’Mothershouts,lockingherselfintothebathroom.‘Ihaven’tevenpaidLenny’sphysiotherapistyet…I’vetobuythechildren’sclothesforChristmasandNewYear.’(Christmas,Easter,Eid,Divali.Wecelebratethemall.)

‘Oye,madwoman,’hissesFatherthroughthedoor,ostensiblymindfuloftheservants’ears.‘Showsomesense.Iowethemoney.Ihavetoreturnitonmywaytotheoffice.Giveitbackatonce.’

‘I’llgiveitafterI’vetakenwhatIneed,Jana,’Motherwarblesandsuddenlyopeningthedoorshovesthebundleatmyfather.

Beforeshe’shadtimetomovetohercupboardFatherhasflickedthroughthenotesandcountedthem.‘Arrey!You’vetakenfartoomuch!’heexclaimsasifshakentothecoreandbankruptedbythebanditry.ButIamalsoschooledtoreadbetweenthelinesofmyfather’sface.Hisheartisnotinhisanguish.Mothermusthavewithdrawnaverymeagreandreasonablesumindeed!

‘She’sbentondestroyingus,’Fathergrumbles,strikinghisforeheadagainandagain.‘MoneyMoneyMoneyMoney!Frommorningtonight.MoneyMoneyMoneyMoney!I’mfedup.’

ButMother,withdewinhereyesandamistysmile,blowshimkisses.And,havinglockedthemoneyinhercupboard,goesaboutherbusinessofpickingupFather’sclothesandtidyingthebedsandgettingdressed.

Chapter9

ToourleftistheSinghs’largebungalow.Thecompoundwallweshareispartiallybrokenbytheslopingtrunkofaeucalyptustreenearourkitchen.ThisiswhereRosy,Peter,AdiandI,andsometimesCousin,gathertodiscussworldaffairs,humanrelationships,MrandMrsSingh’suncuthairandRosy’ssister’simpendingbaby.

‘I’lltellyouhowbabiescome,’saysRosy.

‘Oh,weknow,’Isay,‘Ayah’salreadytoldus.’

‘How?’challengesRosy.‘Thestorkbringsthem?’

Rosysighs,rollinghereyes.‘I’lltellyouhowtheyaremade,’shepersists;‘mysister’stoldmeeverything.’

Rosyisobnoxiouslysmugandswollenthesedays.Shemaywalkaboutwithagrown-upair–buthercottonknickers,Inotice,remainwet.Herbigsisterunquestionablypumpsherwithquestionableknowledge.

‘Ifyoursisterknowssomuch,howcomeshecouldnotevenpassherMatricexam?’Iask.

Rosyhaspickedupareasonablewayoftalkingwhichgivesmegoosebumps.‘PassingMatricexamshasnothingtodowithhavingbabies,’sheexplainssweetly.‘Shehasahusbandwhosheloves–andwholovesher…’

‘She’sgottohaveahusband,stupid!She’smarriedisn’tshe?’Adibuttsin,‘andmarriedpeoplehavebabies!That’sallthereistoit!’

‘You’remuchtooyoungtounderstandsuchthings,’saysRosy.

‘I’llshowyouwho’stooyoung,’saysAdi,pushingherbackandjumpingthewallafterherandknockingherdownandthrowinghimselfuponher.Theyarguewiththeirlimbsandvoices,churningdust.HowisRosytoknowthatjustthatmorningCousinsettledanargumentwithAdibyshovinghimoffSkinny-aunt’sverandasaying:‘You’retoosmalltoknowanything,stupid.Scram!’

Thekitchendoorbangingshut,Yousafemergestoinvestigatetherow.HesnatchesAdiupandRosy,draggedtoherfeetbyherhair,emitsabloodyyellthatcurdlesthemilkinMrSingh’sbuffaloes.YousafcarriesAdikickingandcursingintothekitchen.

ForthemomentatleastAdihasknockedthestuffingoutofRosy’sintolerablegrown-uppishness.Red-faced,bawling,martyred,wetknicker-bottomscakedwithmudandarmsoutstretched,Rosytottersinslowmotionto-wardsherveranda.

PuttingonastraightfaceIjumpthewallafterRosy.Iplaceahypocriticalarmprotectivelyroundhershouldersandconsoleherallthewayuptheverandastepstoherroom.

‘Whatisit,Rosy?Whatisthematter,dear?’warblesMrsSinghinhercool-water-in-a-jugAmericanvoicefromsomewhereinthehouse.

RosybawlssomethingindecipherableandMrsSingh,apparentlysatisfied,asksnomorequestions.

Thethreeminiatureglassjarswinkatme!

LeavingRosytocopewithherhurtfeelingsandbruisedflesh,Icrouchbeforethem.OnebyoneIliftthefragilejarsandremovetheirtinycrystalstoppers.Theygleam,reflectingrainbowhues–insinuatingquestions…Whatiseternity?Whyarethestars?Wheredocatslaytheireggs?Andwhydon’thospitalshaveflushingbed-pansbuiltintothebeds?

RosyneverevenlooksatthejarsunlessIamthere.Iftheyweretofallthisminuteandsmashtosmithereensshewouldbesad–thedestructionofbeautyisdepressing–butshewouldn’tmissthemamongallherlittlepotsandpansandcupsandsaucers.Woulditbestealingthen?TakingawaysomethingRosydoesn’twantanyway?

Icannotbringmyselftoaskhertogivethemtome.Shemightrefuse.It’sanunthinkablerisk.Iknowwhenyouwantsomethingverymuchitgivespeoplepoweroveryou.IwillnotgiveRosythatpowertowithhold–ortogrant.Toomanypeoplehaveitasitis.

SilentlyRosygetsupandleavingadampindentationofherdustybottomonthebedspreadgoesoutoftheroom.

Myhandsfeelweak.Icannotstiroutofmycrouchedposition.Iforcemymindtoberational.Hundredsofthousandsofpeoplesteal…

Suddenlymybrainclicks.Myeyeslocatethefireplace.Myhandsspringtolife,deftandobedient,andIburythejarsinabedofashes.Itisalmostsummer.Noonewillkindleafireformonths.IcanleavethejarstheretillRosyforgetstheyeverexisted.

Rosyreturnsbearingasaucerandmyheartsinks.Onthesauceraresmallmoundsofsugar,riceandredpepper.Itisanoffering.Amanoeuvretoshoreupmyshakyallegiance;andasilenttestimonyofherworth.SheknowsIlovefillingthejars,liketheirenormouscounterpartsinthekitchen,withsugarandrice.

Thereisnohelpforit.WhileRosyfillsthetoyteapotwithwaterfromthebathroomIpryoutthejarsfromtheashesandfillthemwithriceandsugar.

Icouldweep.AnytimeImanoeuvreasetofcircumstancestosuitmethishappens.Fateintervenes.Thereisnootherwordforit.Fated!Doomed!NowonderIhavesuchascary-pussofaconscience.

***

Ayahhasacquiredtwonewadmirers:aChinamanandthePathan.

Motherwonderswhywearesuddenlyswampedwithsuchapersistentdisplayofembroideredbosky-silkandlinentea-cosies,tray-cloths,trolleysets,tablecloths,counterpanes,pillowcasesandbedsheets.

TwiceaweektheChinamancyclesupourdrive,rattlingandbumpingoverthestones,ahugekhakibundlestrappedtothecarrier.

Ourdriveismadeofpackedearth.Everyyear,wornbytrafficanderodedbymonsoons,thedrivelaysbarepatchesofbrickrubble.

TheChinamanisdapper,thin,brusqueandrude.Heparkshisbicycleintheporch,removesthecycle-clipsfromhiskhakitrousersandheaveshisbundletotheveranda.‘Comeon,comeon,Chinamancome!’heshouts,squattingbeforehisbundleandsortingouthiswaresfordisplay.‘ComeonMemsahib,comeonAyah.Comeon,comeon,Chinamancome!’

Motheryellsfrominside:‘Tellhimtogetout!Whatisthisnonsense?Comingeveryday!Ayah?Yousaf?Isanyonethere?’

Ayahcomestotheveranda.‘Go,go!’shesaysintartEnglish.‘BesidesCantonese,theChinamanspeaksonlyasmatteringofEnglish.)‘Memsahibnowant.Go,Go!’

ButtheChinamanhassprunghistrapwithcunning.Ayah’sattentionissnaredbytheshimmeringcolours.Hereyeswandertothesilks.

‘Comeon,comeon,’hecoaxes,gettingup.HereachesforAyah’sarmandpullshertohissilks.‘See?’hesays,strokinghisfreehandovertheboskyandthenoverherarm.‘Itsilkylikeyourskin.See?See?’hesaysburyingherhandinthesoftheap.

Ayahknowswellhowtohandlehisboldtiltedeyesandhisalienrudeness.‘Oh-ho,’shesays,allsing-songy.‘Ihavenomunneeey–howIbuy?’

‘Yousit,’coaxestheChinaman,pullingAyahtosquatbesidehimand,retaininghishold,engagesherinastaccatoanddesultoryconversation.WhenAyah’srestivenessbecomesuncontrollableheintroducesabribe:‘Now,whatIcangiveyou?’hemuses.‘Letmesee…Sit,sit,’hesaysandAyah’srestivenesssuccumbstothedualrestraintsofhandandpromises.

AlthoughAyahhasbeenallottedquarters,shedwellsandsleepsinourhouse.Soonthetabletops,mantelpieces,sideboardsandshelvesinourroomsblossomwithembroidered,bosky-silkdoilies.

TheattentionsofAyah’sPathanadmireralsobenefitourhousehold.Allourkitchenknives,tableknives,Mother’sscissorsandpaper-knifeandHari’sgardenshearsandAdi’sbluntpenknifesuddenlydevelopglitteringrazoredges.AnditisnotonlyourhouseholdthePathanservices.GitaShankar’s,Rosy-Peter’s,Electric-aunt’sandGodmother’shousesalsoflashwithsharpandefficientcuttingimplements.Eventheworn,stubbyknivesintheservants’quartersacquireredoubtableedges:forthePathanisaknife-sharpener.

Ihaveoftennoticedhiminthebazaar,plyinghistradebeforestreet-sideshops.Hepushesapedalonhismachineandalargeandslenderwheelturnsdizzilyroundandround.Withgreatdexterityandjudgementhebringstheknifebladestothewheel,andintheensuingconflagrationofsparksandswiftsteel-screeches,theknivesarehonedtojeweledges.Hewrapsthelooseendofhisfloppyturbanabouthismouthlikeathug–tofilteroutthefinesteelandwhetstonedust.

ItisonlywhenIseehiminasidewalkbrawlwiththerestaurant-wrestler,lookingbewilderedandfurious,hisfacenolongercoveredlikeathug’s,thatIrecognisethefaceandconnectittothepinkandtinglybottomwecycledpastonourwaytoImamDin’svillage.

ThePathan’snameisSharbatKhan.Hetoocyclesupourlongdrive,steelclatteringandwheelswobblingovertherubblethatsticksoutofthemud.ThecyclelookslikeatoybeneaththemanfromthemountainsandinvoluntarilyAdiandIgrowtense,expectingthepistol-shot-likereportofapuncturedtyre.Itislateintheafternoonandwestandontheveranda,hypnotisedbyhisapproach.

SharbatKhanwearsdraw-stringpantaloonssobaggytheyputtoshameMasseur’sshalwar–andoverthemaflaredtunicthatflauntstenyardsofcoarsewhitehomespun.HecyclespastourbedroomandGitaShankar’sroomstothebackofthehouse.AdiandIscootafterhim.

SharbatKhanparkshiscycleagainstatreeandsquattingbyitwaitsforAyah.

Ayahcomes.

Ayahisnervousinhispresence:giventosuddenmovement;hergoddess-likecalmreplacedbybreath-stoppingshyness.Theydon’ttouch.Heleansacrosshisbicycle,talking,andsheshiftsfromfoottofoot,smiling,duckingandtwistingspherically.Shehastakentostickingaflowerinherhair,pluckedfromourgarden.Theydon’tneedtotouch.HispresenceradiatesawarmththatisdifferentfromthedarkheatgeneratedbyMasseur’sfingers–thelightning-strikesofIce-candy-man’stoes.

SharbatKhantellsherofhiscousinwhohasadryfruitandnaswar(mixtureoftobaccoandopium)lean-toinGowalmandi.ItisacontactpointforthemanyPathansfromhistribearoundtheKhyberworkinginLahore.HegivesAyahnewsofthemeat,vegetable,teaandkebabstallownersandoftheirfamilies,whosekniveshesharpens.Heisdoingwell.Andnotonlyatsharpeningknives.

SharbatKhancautionsAyah:‘Thesearebadtimes–Allahknowswhat’sinstore.ThereisbigtroubleinCalcuttaandDelhi:Hindu-Muslimtrouble.TheCongress-wallahsareafterJinnah’sblood…’

‘What’sittousifJinnah,NehruandPatelfight?Theyarenotfightingourfight,’saysAyah,lightly.

‘Thatmaybetrue,’saysSharbatKhanthoughtfully,‘buttheyarestirringuptroubleforusall.’

SharbatKhanshiftsforward,hisaspectthatofamanabouttoconfessasecret.AyahleansclosertohimandIslideintoherlap.

Heglancesatmedubiously,butatareassuringnodfromAyah,says,‘Funnythingsarehappeninginsidetheoldcity…Stabbings…Eitherthepolicecan’tdoanything–ortheydon’twantto.Abodywasstuffedintoamanholeinmylocality…Itwasdiscoveredthismorningbecauseofthesmell:ayoung,good-lookingman.SeveralbodieshavebeenfoundintheguttersandgulliesoftheKashmiri,LahoriandBhattiGatesandShalmi…Theymusthavebeendumpedtherefromdifferentneighbourhoodsbecausenooneknowswhotheyare.’

‘AretheyHindus?’asksAyah,hercarefreemooddispelled.

‘Hindu,MuslimandSikh.Onecantelltheyarefromprosperous,eating-drinkinghouseholds…

‘Therehavealsobeenoneortwofires…Idon’tlikeit…’

Wefallintoapensivesilence.

Ayahsighs,‘ArreyBhagwan.’Shepushesmeoffherlapanduntiesaknotinhersarithatservesasherwallet.Sheholdsoutasmallbundleoftightlyfoldednotes.‘Look,’shesays,shakingherheadtodispelthesombremood.‘I’vesavedmywholesalarythismonth…fortyrupees!’

SharbatKhantakesthemoneyfromherand,removinghisturban,tucksitinsideitsrancid-smellinginterior.Hishair,mattedtohishead,isbrownandfallsfromacentrepartingtohisears.

SharbatKhanloansmoneyasasidebusinesslikemostPathans.HecarriesouttransactionsonAyah’sbehalfandgiveshertheprofits.Oftenhewearsagun.Therearefewdefaulters.

IlistenasSharbatKhantalkstoAyahofthecropsandsparseorchardsinhismountainvillage.Nowitistheappleseasonandtheseasonforapricots.Itisalsotimetocashthericecrop,themaizecrop,andhoethepotatoes…Heisgoingtohistribalvillageforamonthorsotohelphisfolkwresttheharvestfromthegritty,unyieldingsoilofhisland.Thereareleopardsinthegraniteravinesandstonysummitssurroundinghisvillage.Hehasencounteredthemonmountaintrails,theireyesgleamingemeraldbynight,theirspotscamouflagedbythefilteredsunlightdapplingtheunderbrushbyday.

‘HaiRam!’exclaimsAyah,herlipstremblingwithconcern.‘Don’ttheyattack?’

‘Onlyifthey’reshowndisrespect,’saysSharbatKhan.‘Wemountainfolkknowwhattodo.Wetouchourforeheadsandcourteouslysay“Salaam-alekummamajee[uncle]”andtheyletusalone.’

‘I’dneverhavethenervetosaythat!’saysAyah.‘I’dfaintrightaway!’

‘Thenhe’dthinkyouveryrudeandeatyouup!’

‘Arreybaba,I’dnevergotoyourvillage,’saysAyahfirmly.

SharbatKhangrins,hiseyesshiningwithlove.‘ThenImustbringthemountainstoyou!Whatwouldyoulike?’heasksAyah.‘Almonds?Pistachios?Walnuts?Driedapricots?’SharbatKhanwearssilverringsonhisfingers,roughlyembeddedwithturquoiseanduncutrubies.‘Ah,thetasteofthosenuts!’hesighs,raisinghisfingerstohislipsandsmackingthem,andslidinghiswarmtiger-eyesinawaythatleavesAyahsoshortofbreaththatshecanbarelysay,‘Bringmepistachios.’

SharbatKhanleansforward.‘What?’heasks,awareofhiseffectonher.‘Ididn’thearyou.’

Ayahshufflesherbarefeetandfidgetswithhersari.Hereyesareshy,fullofmessages.‘Bringmepistachios,’shesaysagain.‘Andalmonds:theyaregoodforthebrain.’

‘Andwhatarepistachiosgoodfor?’asksSharbatKhanknowingly,andAyahlowersherheadandfiddleswiththescarletroseanchoredtothetightknotinherhairandsays,‘HowshouldIknow?’AndSharbatKhansighsagain,andhiseyesturnsoradianttheyshinelikeamberbetweenhisbushylashes.

Somethinghappenswithinme.ThoughoutwardlyIremainasthinaseverIcanfeelmystomachmusclesretracttocreateawarmhollow.‘Takemeforaride–takemeforaride,’IbegandSharbatKhan,tearingawayhiseyesfromAyah,placesmeonthecycleshaft.Hegivesmeaturnroundthebackyard,grazingpastthebuffalo,theservants’quartersandtheShankars’veranda.Hesmellsoftobacco,burntwhetstoneandsweat.HebringsmebackandoffersAyaharide.

‘Sitinfront:it’ssafer,’hesays.

‘Aiiii-yo!’shesaysinalong-drawnway,asifhehasmadeanimpropersuggestion,andturningherfaceawaycoversherheadwithhersari.

SharbatKhancoaxesheragain,andwithagreatshowofalarmAyahwigglesontotheshaftinfrontandSharbatKhantakesheroffonacircuitofthebackyard.Hepretendstolosehisbalance:andasthefrontwheelswingswildly,‘Hai,I’lldie!’criesAyah.Theinhabitantsoftheservants’quarterspopouttowatchthetamashaandapplaud.Adilaughsandclaps.Laughing,SharbatKhanreleasesAyahbackunderthetrees.

HegivesAdiaride,anddepositinghimoutsidethekitchen,cyclesdownthedrivelikeamountainreceding.

***

IhearthemetallicpealofFather’scyclebellandrushouttowelcomehim.Motherrushesoutofanotherdoor.Itisalmostthreeintheafternoon:Fatherislateforlunch.TogetherweslobberalloverhimasFather,withaphoneyfrownandatightlittletwistofasmilebeneathhismoustache,placesthecycleonitsstandandremovestheledgersclampedtothecarrier.

Motherremoveshissolartopiandslipsoffthehandkerchieftiedroundhisforeheadtokeepthesweatfromhiseyes.Shebrusheshiswetcurlsback.AsIreachuptokisshimFatherbendsandputshisarmroundme.Motherrelieveshimoftheledgersandtakingholdofhisotherarmwindsitaboutherself,makinglittlemoaningsoundsasifhistouchfillsherwithexquisiterelief.WithmeclingingtohiswaistandMotherhangingontohisarmFatherlaboursuptheverandasteps.

MakingaffectionatesoundsweaccompanyFathertothebathroom.Hewasheshishandsandemptieshisbladderandweaccompanyhimtothediningtable.

MotherandIsitwithhim.Mothertalkswhilehechompswordlesslyonhisfoodandlooksatheroutoftheassessinganddisconcertingeyesofatheatrecritic.Motherchattersaboutfriendsandsuppliespoliticaltitbitsfilteredthroughtheirconsciousnesses:Col.BharuchasaysthatJinnahsaid…AndNehrusaidthat…Andoh,howIlaughedwhenMehrabai(that’sthemirthsomeMrsBankwalla)saidthisaboutPatel…andthatabout…

Unflagging,shegivesarésuméoftheanxiouslettersfromsistersandsisters-in-lawinBombayandKarachi,whohaveheardallsortsofrumoursaboutthesituationinthePunjabandareexhortingustocometothem.

Alittlelater,mentionofAdi’shostileanticscausesFathertoscowl.Leaningforwardtoshovelaforkfulofcurriedriceintohismouthhecrumpleshisforeheadup,andoutofsharpandjudgementaleyesgazesacutelyatMother.

SwitchingthebulletinimmediatelyMotherrecountssomeobservationsofmineasifI’vespenttheentiremorningmouthingextraordinarilybrilliant,saccharinelysweetandfetchinglynaïveremarks.‘Jana,youknowwhatLennytoldmethismorning?Shesaid:

“PoorDaddyworkssohardforus.WhenIgrowup,Iwillworkintheofficeandhecanreadhisnewspaperallday!”’

PealsoflaughterfromMother.AsmilefromFather.

AndwhenMotherpauses,oncue,IrepeatanyremarksI’msupposedtohavemade:andhamuptheperformancewithfurtherinnocentlyinsightfulobservations.

Fatherrewardsmewithsolemnnods,champingsmiles,andmonosyllables.

Andastheyearsadvance,mysenseofinadequacyandunworthadvances.Ihavetothinkfaster–onmytoesasitwere…offeringlengthierandlengthierchattertofilluptheinfernaltimeofFather’smutemeals.

IsthatwhenIlearntotelltales?

Chapter10

InsteadofschoolIgotoMrsPen’s.HerhouseisnexttoGodmother’sonJailRoad–oppositeElectric-aunt’s–andIwalktherewithAyahorwithHari.Channi,herslightbutstatelysweeper,takesoutasmalltableandtwochairsandwesitinthegardenunderbareFebruarytreesandlukewarmsunshine.MrPenloungesontheverandainaneasychair.

Aparrotmightrelishrecitingtables.Idonot.‘Twotwosarefour

Twothreesaresix

Twofoursareeight

Etc.,etc.’

BythetimeIreachthefive-timestableIamrestingmyheadonmyarmsstretchedflatoutonthetable,peeringsidewaysatMrsPen.Myjawsache–mymindwanders–IhearMrPensnore…

HeismuchdarkerthanMrsPen.HeisAnglo-Indian.

MrsPenisfair,soft,plump,English.

Ihaveatrick.Myvoicedroneson,mymindclicksoff.Itaketimeouttoeducatemyself.Iwatchthetreesshedtheirleavesandsproutnewbuds…andthepredatorykitesswooponpigeons.Andthecrows,inungainlyclusters,attackthekites…

AndIsniffawhiffoffMrsPenasitdriftsupfromunderthetable,itsmouldyrealitypercolatingthedustingofcheaptalcumpowder.

DespitehereffortstocluttermybrainwiththetriviaandtrappingsofscholarshipIslipinagoodbitoflearning.ThewhiffoffMrsPenenlightensme.Itteachesmethebiologyofspentcellsandageingbodies–andinsinuateshistoryintomysubconscious…ofthingspastandoftheBritishRaj…ofhumanfrailtiesandvulnerabilities–ofspentpassionandlingeringyearnings.WhereasawhiffoffAyahcarriesthedarkpurityofcreation,MrsPensmellsofmemories.

MrsPenreadsaloudprosaicEnglishhistory.

Iturnmyheadtheotherway.IobserveMrPen’sfingers.Theyarelong,fatandlarge.Hislegsarehugetubesencasedinflannelsandbeneaththem,visiblethroughaholeinhissocks,plopshismordanttoe.IfeelsorryforMrsPen.Ican’timaginehisfingersworking

thesubtleartistryofMasseur’sfingers–orhissluggishtoeconveyingthedashingimpulsesofIce-candy-man’stoes.

AfterMrsPen’sIgotoGodmother’s.

Godmotherrentsroomsinthebackofabungalow.Shehasalargeroom,andasmallroomwithakerosenestoveandadangerousPrimusstove.Thesmallroomservesaskitchen/pantry.Andoffit,abathroomwiththreecommodes.

Igostraighttothekitchen.Slavesister,shortandsquat,isslavingoverthekerosenestove.Ifollowherasshewalksonpainfulbunionstothewater-troughatthebackofthecompoundandwatchherscourtheheavypansandbrassutensilswithashandmud.Ihelphercarrythemback.

EverynowandthenSlavesisterservesGodmotherstronghalf-cupsofsteamingteawhichGodmotherpoursintohersaucerandslurps.Itootakeanoccasionalandguiltysip.Drinkingtea,Iamtold,makesonedarker.I’mdarkenough.Everyonesays,‘It’sapityAdi’sfairandLennysodark.He’saboy.Anyonewillmarryhim.’

***

YesterdayIcarriedagleamingimageofthejarsinmymind.

Somethingdarkerlurksintheirsteadtoday–fearandguilt.

Thethreejarsareinmypossession.

Iglanceabouttheroom.ThereisnotasinglehidingplacewhenIwantone.WhenIdon’tneedthemtheyabound,secretingawaythings.

Ituckthejarsinanoldpairoffeltslippersbeneathatangleofneglectedtoysinthebottomdrawerofourdresser.

Adibreezesinandmakesabeelineforthedresser.Heopensandclosesdrawers,rummagingamongthewreckedcars,trains,nurserybooks,gutlessbadmintonrackets,andcelluloiddolls.Hegrabsthedeflatedfootballhe’slookingforandIletmybreathgo.Ineedasaferhidingplace.

NextmorningItransportthejarstoMrsPen’s,wrappedintoiletpaperandtuckedinmyschoolbag.AftermytuitionItransportthemtoGodmother’s.Sheisproppeduponthreewhitepillowsthatarecement-hardandasheavy.Ireclinebesideheronhercot,proppedalmostupright.

Myeyeswanderallovertheroom.Anotherstring-cot,smallerandsagging,liesinfrontofthealmirahwiththethreedoors.Squeezedbetweentwocupboards,fittingoneintotheother,arethreemorecots.Oldhusbandsitshunchedandstillonabentwoodchairbeforeaheavymahoganydesk.Chairswithcaneseats,tintrunksandleathersuitcasesarestackedagainstthewalls.Myeyes,likehappyroaches,crawlintotheabundanceofcrevicesandcrannies.

Slavesistergoesintothekitchen.WhenshecallsGodmothertolightthePrimusIquicklyslipthejarsbetweentwostacksoftrunkscoveredbydhurries.

IhearGodmotherpumpthespiritstove:koochuck,koochuck,koochuck,koochuck.Iseeher,white-saried,bentforwardinconcentration,vulnerableandheroic.

ThetechnologyinvolvedinstartingthePrimusistoocomplexforSlavesistertohandle.Godmotherexposesherselftograveriskeverytimeshestartsthestove.LikeRussianroulette,anyoneofthepumpsmighttriggerthePrimustoblowupinherface.

Thereisafiercehissing.Itisnowsafetopeekin.TheringofflamefromthePrimusislikeafiercebluestorm.

IliebackonGodmother’spillows,absent-mindedlylisteningtoherscoldSlavesister.WhensheapproachesImakeroomforher.ShesettlesinthehollowofthebedandIwindmyselfaboutherlikearope.

ShecallstoSlavesister.Hervoiceisstillsternfromthescolding:‘IwantthatJapanesekimonoMehrabaibroughtmetwoyearsback.Thatredone.IwanttogiveittoBachamai’sRutti.Doyourememberwhereitis?’

Noanswer.

Sherapsherpunkahonthewalltoattracthersister’sattention,andraisinghervoicetoaccommodatethehissingstove,repeatsthetext,adding:‘Doyouhearme?’

Stillnoanswer.

‘Oh?Wearesulking,arewe?’

Nocomment.

‘Wearegettingallhoity-toitytoday?’

Godmotherblinksexaggeratedly,andmakesahaughty,naughtyfaceandholdsherlongpointedfingersinsuchasuperciliousanddaintymannerthatIburstintogiggles.Godmothershakeswithsuppressedchuckles.

Catchingherbreathandsoberingup,shesays:‘Willyoulookforthekimono–ordoIhavetogetup?’

ThebedcreaksasGodmotherslowlyheavesherselfupandlowersherfeet,andSlavesistercomesinflappingherslippersnoisilyandsaying,‘I’mcoming,I’mcoming…Really,Rodabai,youhavenopatience,haveyou?Ican’tcookandlookforthekimonoatthesametimetoo,canI?’

Godmothercaricaturesherexpressionandpantomimeshermartyredmovementsbehindherrotundback.

‘Iknowwhatyou’redoing.Goahead:doitinfrontofthechild!Asitisshedoesn’trespectme.Ihaveaskedyousooftennotto.Youneverconsiderhowyouhumiliateme,

doyou?’

Godmothercontinuesherperformance,pantomiming.

Slavesister’sgestures,openingandshuttinghermouthinadumbcharade.

Godmothernudgesme.Slavesisterhascommencedmumbling.

Godmothersetsupanimitativehum.AsSlavesisterpeersintoboxesandsuitcaseslookingforthekimono,shemumbleslouderandGodmothersays,‘Somepeopledon’tlikebeingscolded.Iftheydon’tlikebeingscoldedtheyshouldn’thoveraroundPrimusstoveswhenI’mpumpingthem!’

‘Mumble–grumble.’Aliftingandshuttingoftrunklids.ApuzzledexpressiononSlavesister’sface,awadoftoiletpaperinherhands.‘What’sthis?’

‘Careful!It’sglass!It’smine,’Isay,scamperingoffthecot.

Balancingherbifocalsonthetipofherrubberyandshapelessnose,Slavesisterexaminesthetinyjarsadmiringly.‘Wheredidyougetthem?’

‘Rosygavethemtome.’

PerhapsIhesitateafractiontoolong.Ormybodysignalscontrarily.ThemomentthesentenceisoutIcantellGodmotherknowsIhavestolenthejars.Ileapbacktomyoriginalroost,notabletomeethereyes,andhidemyfaceinhersari.

‘Youhavestolenthejars,haven’tyou?’sheasks.

‘No,’Isay,shakingmyheadvehementlyagainstherkhaddarblouse.

‘Don’tlie.Itdoesn’tsuityou.’

Thereitisagain!Lyingdoesn’tbecomeme.Ican’tgetawaywiththelittlestthing.

‘Whynot?’Ihowl.‘Whydoesn’titsuitme?NoonesaysthattoAdi,Ayah,Cousin,ImamDin,Mother,FatherorRosy-Peter!’

‘Somepeoplecanlieandsomepeoplecan’t.Yourvoiceandfacegiveyouaway,’saysGodmother.

‘ButIcan’tevencurse,’Ihowl,sittingup.

Adicanswearhimselfredinthefaceandlooklovable–Rosycancursesteadilyforfiveminutes,goingallthewayfrom‘Ullu-kay-pathay’to‘asshole’,fromPunjabiswearwordstoAmerican,andstilllookcute.It’sokayifCousinswears–butifIcurseorlieIamtolditdoesnotsuittheshapeofmymouth.Ormypersonality.Orsomething!

‘Everybodyintheworldlies,stealsandcursesexceptme!’Ishout,chokedwithself-pity.‘Whycan’tIactlikeeverybody?’

‘Somepeoplecangetawaywithitandsomecan’t,’saysGodmother.‘I’mafraidalifeofcrimeisnotforyou.Notbecauseyouaren’tsharp,butbecauseyouarenotsuitedtoit.’

Alifesentence?Condemnedtohonesty?Ademoninsaint’sclothing?

IwassetfirmlyandrelentlesslyonthepathtotruththedayIbrokeaWedgwoodplateand,puttingabrazenfaceonmymischief,noblyconfessedallbeforeMother.Iwasthreeyearsold.Motherbentoverme,showeringmewiththeradianceofherapproval.‘Iloveyou.Youspokethetruth!What’sabrokenplate?Breakahundredplates!’

Ibrokeplates,cups,bowls,dishes.Ismashedlivers,kidneys,hearts,eyes…Thepathtovirtueisstrewnwithbrokenpeopleandshatteredchina.

***

GandhijeevisitsLahore.I’msurprisedheexists.Ialmostthoughthewasamythicfigure.Someonewe’donlyhearaboutandneversee.Mothertakesmyhand.WewalkpasttheBirdwoodBarracks’sepoytotheQueensRoadendofWarrisRoad,andenterthegatesofthelasthouse.

Wewalkdeepintoawinding,eucalyptus-shadeddrive:sofarindowegothatIfearwemaylandupinsomeprivaterecessofthezooandcomefacetofacewiththelion.IdragbackonMother’sarm,vocalisingmyfear,andatlastMotherhaulsmeupsomestepsandintoGandhijee’spresence.Heisknitting.Sittingcross-leggedonthemarblefloorofapalatialveranda,heissurroundedbywomen.Heissmall,dark,shrivelled,old.HelooksjustlikeHari,ourgardener,excepthehasadisgruntled,disgustedandirritablelook,andnoone’ddarepulloffhisdhoti!Hewearsonlytheloin-clothandhisblackandthintorsoisnaked.

Gandhijeecertainlyisaheadofhistimes.Healreadyknowstheadvantagesofdieting.Hehasstarvedhiswayintothenewsandmadeheadlinesallovertheworld.

MotherandIsitinacirclewithGitaandthewomenfromDaulatram’shouse.Apink-satinbowdanglingfromthetipofherstoutbraid,Gitalooksetherealandcontent–asifwashedofalldesire.Inoticethesamelookonthefacesoftheotherwomen.Whateverhisphysicalshortcomings,Gandhijeemusthavesomeconcealedattractionstoinspiresuchpurifiedexpressions.

LeanyoungwomenflankGandhijee.TheylookdifferentfromLahoriwomenandareobviouslyapartofhisentourage.ThepleasantlyplumpPunjabiwomen,inshalwar-kamizesandsaris,shufflefromspottospot.Barelystandingup,theyholdtheirveilssothattheedgesdon’tslipofftheirheadsastheygotoandfromGandhijee.Thewomenaresubdued,receptive;aswhenonesitswithmourners.

SomeonetakesMother’shand,andhandinhandwegotoGandhijee.Butterwouldn’tmeltinourmouths.Gandhijeepolitelyputsasidehisknittinganduncreaseshisdisgruntledscowl;andwithanirrelevanceIfindalarming,sayssoftly,‘Sluggishstomachs

arethescourgeofthePunjabis…toomuchrichfoodandtoolittleexercise.ThecauseofIndia’sailmentsliesinourcloggedalimentarycanals.Thehungrystomachisthescourgeofthepoor–andthefullstomachoftherich.’

Beneathherblue-tintedandrimlessglassesMother’seyesaredowncast,herheadbowed,herbobbedhair–andwhatIassumeisherconsternation–concealedbeneathhersari.ButwhenGandhijeepauses,shegiveshimasidelonglookofraptandreverentinterest.Andtwominuteslater,nottheleastbitalarmed,sheearnestlyfurnisheshimwiththeodour,consistency,timeandfrequencyofherbowelmovements.Whensheisfinishedshebowsherheadagain,andGandhijeepasseshishandoverherhead:andthen,absently,asifitwereatiresomeafter-thought,overmine.

‘Flushyoursystemwithanenema,daughter,’saysGandhijee,directinghissagecounselatmymother.‘Useplain,lukewarmwater.Doitforthirtydays…everymorning.Youwillfeellikeanewwoman.

‘Lookatthesegirls,’saysGandhijee,indicatingtheleanwomenflankinghim.‘Igivethemenemasmyself–thereisnoshameinit–Iamliketheirmother.Youcanseehowsmoothandmoisttheirskinis.Lookattheirshiningeyes!’

Theenema-emaciatedwomenhavefaintshadowsbeneaththeirlimpideyesand,moist-skinnedornot,theyaremuchtoopale,theirbrownskinstingedbyaclayishpallor.

Gandhijeereachesoutandsuddenlyseizesmyarminastartlingvice.‘Whatasickly-lookingchild,’heannounces,avoidingmyeye.‘Flushherstomach!Herskinwillbloomlikeroses.’

ConsideringhehasnotlookedmywayevenonceIamenragedbyhisobservation.‘Anenemaadaykeepsthedoctoraway,’hecrowsfeebly,chortlinginanelderlyandghoulishway,hisslightbodytwitchingwithglee,hiseyesriveteduponmymother.

Iconsiderallthistalkaboutenemasandcloggedintestinesinshockingtaste:andItakeadimandbitterviewofhisconcernformyhealthandwelfare.Turningupmynoseandlookingdownseverelyatthisimprobabletoss-upbetweenaclownandademonIampuzzledwhyhe’ssofamous–andsuddenlyhiseyesturntome.Mybrain,heartandstomachmelt.Thepureshaftofhumour,compassion,toleranceandunderstandinghedirectsatmefusesmetoeverythingthatisfeminine,funny,gentle,loving.Heisamanwholoveswomen.Andlamechildren.Andtheuntouchablesweeper–sohewilllovetheuntouchablesweeper’sconstipatedgirl-childbest.Iknowjustwheretolookforsuchachild.Hetouchesmyface,andinaburstofshynessIlowermyeyes.ThisisthefirsttimeIhaveloweredmyeyesbeforeman.

Itwasn’tuntilsomeyearslater–whenIrealisedthefullscopeanddimensionofthemassacres–thatIcomprehendedtheconcealednatureoftheicelurkingdeepbeneaththehypnoticanddynamicfemininityofGandhi’snon-violentexterior.

Andthen,whenIraisedmyheadagain,themenloweredtheireyes.

Chapter11

TheAprildaysarelengthening,beginningtogetwarm.TheQueen’sParkispacked.Groupsofmenandwomensitincirclesonthegrassandchildrenrunaboutthem.Ice-candy-man,leanashispopsiclesandasaffable,swarmingwithchildren,isgoingfromgrouptogroupdoinggoodbusiness.

Masseur,too,isgoingfromgrouptogroup;handsome,reserved,competent,assured,massagingbaldingheads,kneadingknottyshouldersandsoothingachinglimbs.

Ilieonthegrass,myheadonAyah’slap,baskingin–andintercepting–thewarmfloodofstaresdirectedatAyahbyhercircleofadmirers.TheFalletisHotelcook,theGovermentHousegardener,asleekandarrogantbutcherandthezooattendant,SherSingh,sitwithus.

‘Sheisscaredofyourlion,’drawlsAyah,playfullytappingmyforehead.‘Shethinkshe’sletlooseatnightandhewillgobbleherupfromherbed.’

SherSingh,wearinganoutsizeblueturbanandacallowbeard,sitsup.DelightedtobesingledoutbyAyah,helooksatmeearnestly:‘Don’tworry.I’llhangontohisleash,’heboasts,stammeringslightly.‘Hewon’tdareeatyou!’

I’mnottheleastbitreassured.Onthecontrary,Iamterrified.Thiscallowyouthwithastem-likeneckholdthezoolion?

‘Whatkindofleash?’Iask.

‘A-anironch-chain!’

It’smuchworsethanI’dimagined.Alionroaringbehindbarsisbadenough.Butalionstrainingonastoutleashheldbythisthin,stutteringSikhisunthinkable.Iburstintotears.

‘Nowlookwhatyou’vedone,’saysAyahinherusualgood-naturedmanner.Gatheringmeinherarmsandhuggingmesherocksbackandforth.‘Don’tbesilly,’shetellsme.‘Thelionisneverletoutofhiscage.Thecageissostrongahundredlionscouldn’tbreakit.’

‘And,’saysRamzanathebutcher,‘Igivehimajuicygoateveryday.Whyshouldhewanttoeatadriedupsticklikeyou?’

ThelogicisirrefutableduringdaylighthoursasIsitamongfriendsbeneathQueenVictoria’slion-intimidatingpresence.Butalone,atnight,thelogicwillvanish.

MasseurandIce-candy-mandriftovertousandjointhecircle.Masseurisrakinginmoney.Hehasinventedanoilthatwillgrowhaironbaldheads.Itiscomposedofmonkeyandfishglands,mustardoil,pearldustandanassortmentofherbs.Themenlistenintently,butMasseurstopsshortofrevealingthesecretrecipe.HeholdsupthebottleandAyahreachesouttotouchtheoil.

‘Careful,’saysMasseur,whippingthebottleaway.‘It’llgrowhaironyourfingertips.’

‘HaiRam!’saysAyah,quicklyretractingherfingers,androllinghereyesfromonefacetothenextwithfetchingconsternation.

Wealllaugh.

Nottobeoutdone,Ice-candy-mansayshehasdevelopedafirst-classfertilitypill.Heknowsitwillworkbuthehasyettotryitout.

‘I’llgiveitatry,’offerstheGovernmentHousegardener.

‘Yourwife’salreadyproducedchildren,hasn’tshe?’

‘Tch!Notforher,yaar.Formyself.Ifeeloldsometimes,’confessesthegreyinggardener.

‘Itisnotanaphrodisiac.It’safertilitypillforwomen,’explainsIce-candy-man.‘It’ssopotentitcanimpregnatemen!’

Thereisastartledsilence.

‘You’reajoker,yaar,’saysthebutcher.

‘No,honestly,’saysIce-candy-man,neglectfulofthecigarettebuttthatisuncoilingwispsofsmokefromhisfist.Hetoowillrakeinmoney.

Masseurclearshisthroatand,breakingthespellcastbythefertilitypill,enquiresofthegardener:‘What’sthelatestfromtheEnglishSarkar’shouse?’

Thegardener,congenialandhoary,isourprimesourceofinformationfromtheBritishEmpire’slocalheadquarters.

‘Itisrumoured,’hesaysobligingly,rubbingthepatchesofblackandwhitestubbleonhischin,‘thatLatSahibWavelldidnotresignhisviceroyship.’

Hepauses,dramatically,asifhe’salreadyrevealedtoomuchtofriends.Andthen,asifdecidingtoconsecratediscretiontoourfriendship,heservesupthechoicetitbit.

‘Hewassacked!’

‘Oh!Why?’asksIce-candy-man.WeareallexcitedbyarevelationthatinvitesustosharetheinsidetrackoftheRaj’sdoings.

‘Gandhi,Nehru,Patel…theyhavemuchinfluenceeveninLondon,’saysthegardenermysteriously,asifacknowledgingthearbitraryandmischievousnatureofanticgods.‘Theydidn’tliketheMuslimLeague’svictoryinthePunjabelections.’

‘Thebastards!’saysMasseurwithhistrionicfurythatconcealsagenuinebitterness.‘SotheysackWavellSahib,afairman!AndsendforanewLatSahibwhowillfavourtheHindus!’

‘Withallduerespect,malijee,’saysIce-candy-man,surveyingthegardenerthroughabluemistofexhaledsmoke,‘butaren’tyouHindusexpertatjustthiskindofthing?Twistingtailsbehindthescene…andgettingsomeoneelsetoslaughteryourgoats?’

‘What’sthenewLatSahiblike?ThisMountbattenSahib?’asksAyah.

She,likeMother,isanoilpourer.‘Isawhisphoto.Heishandsome!ButIdon’tlikehiswife,baba.Shelooksachoorail!’

‘Ah,butJawaharlalNehrulikesher.Helikeshervaaarymuch!’saysIce-candy-man,luridlydraggingoutthelasttwowordsofEnglish.

‘NehruandtheMountbattensarelikethis!’thegardenerconcurs,holdinguptwoentwinedfingers.Hisexpression,anattractiveblendofsheepishnessandvanity,reinforcestheimageofaseasonedinsidetracker.

‘IfNehruandMountbattenarelikethis,’saysMasseur,‘thenwho’sgoingtoholdourJinnahSahib’shand?MasterTaraSingh?’

Masseursaysthisinawaythatmakesussmile.

‘Ah-ha!’saysIce-candy-manasifsuddenlyenlightened.‘Sothat’swho!’HeslapshisthighandbeamsatusasifMasseurhasproposedabrilliantsolution.‘That’swho!’herepeats.

Thebutchersnortsandaimsacontemptuousgobofspitsomeyardsawayfromus.Hehasbeenquietallthiswhileandasweturnourfacestohimhegathershisstylishcottonshawloveroneshoulderandsays:‘Thatnon-violentviolence-monger–yourpreciousGandhijee–firstdeclarestheSikhsfanatics!Nowsuddenlyhesays:“Ohdear,thepoorSikhscannotlivewiththeMuslimsifthereisaPakistan!”Whatdoeshethinkweare–somekindofbeast?Aren’ttheylivingwithusnow?’

‘He’sapolitician,yaar,’saysMasseursoothingly.‘It’shisbusinesstosuithistonguetothemoment.’

‘IfitwasonlyhistongueIwouldn’tmind,’saysthebutcher.‘ButtheSikhsarealreadysupportingsometrumped-upMuslimpartytheCongressfavours.’Hehasadead-panwayofspeakingwhichisveryeffective.

TheGovernmentHousegardener,hisexpressionwaryandsympathetic,givesaloudsigh,andsays:‘ItistheEnglish’smischief…Theyarepastmastersatintrigue.Itsuits

themtohaveusallfight.

‘JusttheEnglish?’asksButcher.‘Haven’ttheHindusconnivedwiththeAngreztoignoretheMuslimLeague,andsupportapartythatdidn’twinasingleseatinthePunjab?It’sjustthekindofthingwefear.TheymanipulateoneortwoMuslimsagainsttheinterestsofthelargercommunity.AndnowtheyhavemanipulatedMasterTaraSinghandhisbleatingherdofSikhs!’HeglancesatSherSingh,hishandsome,smooth-shavenfacealmostexpressionless.

SherSinghshiftsuncomfortablyand,lookingascompletelyinnocentofMasterTaraSingh’sdoingsashecan,frownsatthegrass.

‘Arrey,youfoolishSikh!YoufellrightintotheHindus’trap!’saysIce-candy-mansofacetiouslythatSherSinghlosespartofhisnervousnessandsmilesback.

Theafternoonisdrawingtoaclose.Thegrassfeelsdamp.Ayahstandsupsmoothingthepleatsinherlimpcottonsari.‘IfallyoutalkofnothingbutthisHindu-Muslimbusiness,I’llstopcomingtothepark,’shesayspertly.

‘It’sjustadiscussionamongfriends,’saysIce-candy-man,uncoilinghisframefromthegrasstositup.‘Suchtalkhelpscleartheair…butforyoursake,wewon’tbringitupagain.’

Therestofuslookathimgratefully.

***

Thereismuchdisturbingtalk.Indiaisgoingtobebroken.Canonebreakacountry?Andwhathappensiftheybreakitwhereourhouseis?OrcrackitfurtheruponWarrisRoad?HowwillIevergettoGodmother’sthen?

IaskCousin.

‘Rubbish,’hesays,‘noone’sgoingtobreakIndia.It’snotmadeofglass!’

IaskAyah.

‘They’lldigacanal…’sheventures.‘ThissideforHindustanandthissideforPakistan.Iftheywanttwocountries,that’swhatthey’llhavetodo–crackIndiawithalong,longcanal.’

Gandhi,Jinnah,Nehru,Iqbal,TaraSingh,MountbattenarenamesIhear.

AndIbecomeawareofreligiousdifferences.

Itissudden.Onedayeverybodyisthemselves–andthenextdaytheyareHindu,Muslim,Sikh,Christian.Peopleshrink,dwindlingintosymbols.Ayahisnolongerjustmyall-encompassingAyah–sheisalsoatoken.AHindu.Carriedawaybyareneweddevotionalfervoursheexpendsasmallfortuneinjoss-sticks,flowersandsweetsonthegodsandgoddessesinthetemples.

ImamDinandYousaf,turningintoreligiouszealots,warnMothertheywilltakeFridayafternoonsofffortheJumhaprayers.OnFridaystheysetaboutpreparingthemselvesostentatiously.Squattingatopthecementwallofthegardentanktheyholdtheirfeetoutbeneaththetapanddiligentlyscrubbetweentheirtoes.Theywashtheirheads,arms,necksandearsandnoisilycleartheirthroatsandnoses.Allinwhite,checkprayerscarvesthrownovertheirshoulders,steppinguncomfortablyinstiffblackBatashoeswornwithoutsocks,theywalkoutofthegatestothesmallmosqueatthebackofQueensRoad.Sometimes,atoddhoursoftheday,theyspreadtheirmatsonthefrontlawnandpraywhenthemuezzincalls.Crammedintoanarrowreligiousslottheytooarediminished:asareJinnahandIqbal,Ice-candy-manandMasseur.

HariandMoti-the-sweeperandhiswifeMuccho,andtheiruntouchabledaughterPapoo,becomeevermoreuntouchableastheyareentrencheddeeperintheirlowHinducaste.WhiletheSharmasandtheDaulatrams,BrahminslikeNehru,aredehumanisedbytheirloftycasteandcaste-marks.

TheRogersofBirdwoodBarracks,QueenVictoriaandKingGeorgeareEnglishChristians:theylookdowntheirnosesuponthePenswhoareAnglo-Indian,wholookdowntheirsonthePhailbuseswhoareIndian-Christian,wholookdownuponallnon-Christians.

Godmother,Slavesister,Electric-auntandmynuclearfamilyarereducedtoirrelevantnomenclatures–weareParsee.

WhatisGod?

***

AllmorningwehearMucchoscreechingatPapoo.‘Iturnmyback;thebitchslacksoff!Isaysomething;shebecomesadeaf-mute.I’llthrashthewickednessoutofyou!’

‘Idon’tknowwhatjinn’sgottenintothatwoman,’saysAyah.‘Shecan’tleavethegirlalone!’

Ihavemadeseveraltripstotheback,hangingaroundthequartersonsomepretextorother,andwithmypresenceprotectingPapoo.

Papoohardlyeverplayswithmenow.Sheisforeverslappingthedoughintochapatties,orwashing,orcollectingdungfromtheroadandplasteringitonthewallsoftheirquarters.Thedrieddungcakesprovidefuel.

Intheeveningshesweepsourcompoundwithastiffreedjharoo,spendinganhourinalittlecloudofdust,aninfantstucktoherhiplikeagrowth.

Thoughshelooksmoreragged–andthin–herfaceandhandssplotchedwithpaledrypatchesandherlipscracked,sheisascheekyaseverwithhermother.Andforeversmilingherhandsomeroguishsmileatus.

LatethateveningAyahtellsmethatMucchoisarrangingPapoo’smarriage.

Iamsevennow,soPapoomustbeeleven.

Myperceptionofpeoplehaschanged.

Istillseethroughtotheirheartsandminds,buttheirexteriorssuperimposeanewsetofdistractingimpressions.

Thetuftofbodhi-hairrisinglikeatailfromHari’sshavenheadsuddenlyappearsfiendishandludicrous.

‘Whydoyoushaveyourheadlikethat?’Isaydisparagingly.‘Becausewe’vealwaysdoneso,Lennybaby,fromthetimeofmygrandfather’sgrandfathers…it’sthewayofourcaste.’

I’mnotsatisfiedwithhisanswer.

WhenCousinvisitsthateveningItellhimwhatIthink.‘JustbecausehisgrandfathersshavedtheirheadsandgrewstupidtailsisnoreasonwhyHarishould.’

‘Notasstupidasyouthink,’saysCousin.‘Itkeepshisheadcoolandhisbrainfresh.’

‘Ifthat’sso,’Isay,challenginghim,‘whydon’tyoushaveyourhead?Whydon’tMotherandFatherandGodmotherandElectric-auntand…’

CousinstopsmymouthwithhishandandasItrytobitehisfingersandwigglefree,heshoutsintomyearsandtellsmeabouttheSikhs.

Istopwiggling.HehasinformedmethattheSikhsbecomementallydeficientatnoon.Mymouthgrowsslackunderhispalm.Hecarefullyremoveshishandfrommygapingmouthand,resuminghisnormalspeakingvoice,furtherinformsme:‘Allthathairnotonlydrainsawaytheirgrey-matter,italsowarmstheirheadslikeatea-cosy.Andattwelveo’clock,whentheheatfromthesunisatitscraziest,itaddlestheirbrains!’

ItissomehoursbeforeIcanclosemygapingmouth.ImmediatelyIrushtoImamDinandaskifwhatCousinsaysistrue.

‘Sure,’hesays,pushinghishookahawayandstandinguptoraketheashes.

‘JusttheotherdayMrSinghmilkedhiscowwithoutabucket.Hedidn’tevennoticethepuddleofmilkontheground…Itwasexactlytwosecondspasttwelve!’

CousineruptswithafreshcropofSikhjokes.

AndthereareHindu,Muslim,Parsee,andChristianjokes.

***

Ican’tseemtoputmyfingeronit–butthereisasubtlechangeintheQueen’sGarden.SittingonAyah’scrossedlegs,leaningagainstherchocolatesoftness,againtheuneaseatthebackofmymindsurfaces.

IfidgetrestlesslyonAyah’slapandsheasks:‘Whatisit,Lenny?Youwanttodosoo-soo?’

Inod,forwantofabetterexplanation.

‘I’lltakeher,’offersMasseur,gettingup.

MasseurleadsmetotheQueen’splatform.SquattingbeneaththeEnglishQueen’ssteelyprofile,mybottombaredtotheeveningthrong,Irelievemyselfofatrickle.

‘Oye!Whatareyougapingat?’MasseurshoutsatalittleSikhboywhohaspausedtowatch.Hislonghair,securedinatop-knot,isprobablyalreadyaddlinghisbrain.

Masseurraiseshisarmthreateninglyandshouts:‘Scram!’

Theboyflinches,butreturninghiseyestome,stayshisground.

TheSikhsarefearless.Theyarewarriors.

Islidemyeyesawayand,pretendingnottonoticehim,standupandraisemyknickers.AsMasseurstraightenstheskirtofmyshortfrockIleanbackagainsthislegsandshylyogletheboy.

Masseurgropesformyhand.ButItwistandslipawayandruntotheboyandhe,pretendingtobeasteam-engine,‘chook-chooking’andglancingmyway,leadsmerompingtohisgroup.

TheSikhwomenpullmetotheirlapsandaskmynameandthenameofmyreligion.

‘I’mParsee,’Isay.

‘Okee?What’sthat?’theyask:scandalisedtodiscoverareligionthey’veneverheardof.

That’swhenIrealisewhathaschanged.TheSikhs,onlytheirrowdylittleboysrunningaboutwithhairpiledintop-knots,arekeepingmostlytothemselves.

Masseurleansintothegroupandplacingafirmhandonmyarmdragsmeaway.

WewalkpastaMuslimfamily.Withtheirburka-veiledwomentheytoositapart.Iturntolookback.Ienvytheirchildren.Dressedinsatinsandhighheels,thelittleMuslimgirlswearmake-up.

Agroupofsmooth-skinnedBrahminsandtheirpamperedmaleoffspringformatightcircleofsuperciliousexclusivitynearours.

OnlythegrouparoundAyahremainsunchanged.Hindu,Muslim,Sikh,Parseeare,asalways,unifiedaroundher.

IdiveintoAyah’slap.

AssoonasIamsettled,andAyah’sabsorptionisbackwiththegroup,thebutchercontinuestheinterruptedconversation:

‘YouHinduseatsomuchbeansandcauliflowerI’mnotsurprisedyouryogislevitate.Theyprobablyfarttheirwayrightuptoheaven!’Heslipshispalmbeneathhisarmpitand,flappinghisotherarmlikeachicken-wing,generatesasuccessionoffart-likesounds.

Ithinkhe’ssofunnyIlaughuntilmytummyhurts.ButAyahisnotlaughing.‘Stopit,’shesaystomeinaharshsombrewhisper.

SherSingh,whohadfoundtherudesoundsasamusing,checkshimselfabruptly.InoticehiscovertglanceslideinMasseur’sdirectionand,lookingalittlefoolish,hesuddenlytriestofrown.

ItwistonAyah’slaptolookatMasseur.Heisstaringimpassivelyatthegrinningbutcher:andButcher’sface,confrontedbyhisstoliddisfavour,turnsugly.

Butbeforehecansayanything,thereisadistraction.Anoisyandlunaticholyman–instrikingattire–hasjustenteredtheQueen’sGarden.Thumpingafive-footirontridentwithbellstiednearitsbase,theholymanlopesto-wardsus,shouting:‘YaAllah!’Astraight,green,sleevelessshiftreachestohishairycalves.Hiswristsandupperarmsarecoveredwithsteelandbeadbangles.Androundhisneckandchestiscoiledacolossalhunkofcopperwiring.Evenfromthatdistancewecantellit’stheIce-candy-man!I’veheardhe’sbecomeAllah’stelephone!

Abeardedman,fromthegroupofMuslimsIhadnoticedearlier,goestohimanddeferentiallyconductshimbacktohisfamily.AsIce-candy-manhunkersdown,Iruntowatchhim.

Awomaninamodern,greysilkburkawhisperstothebeardedman,andthemansays,‘SufiSahib,mywifewantstoknowifAllahwillgrantherason.Wehavefourdaughters.’

Thefourdaughters,rangingfromtwotoeight,weargoldhigh-heeledslippersandpricklybrocadeshirtsoversatintrousers.FrightenedbyIce-candy-man’sash-smearedfaceandeccentricmanner,theyclingtotheirmother.Inoticeaprotrusioninthelowerhalfofthewoman’sburkaandguessthatsheisexpecting.

Hismovementsassuredandelaborate,eyeballsrolledheavenwards,Ice-candy-manbecomesmysteriouslybusy.Heunwindspartofthewirefromthecoilroundhisnecksothathehasanendineachhand.Holdinghisarmswide,mutteringincantations,hebringsthetwoendsslowlytogether.Thereisamodestsplutter,andarainofbluesparks.Themadholymansays‘Ah!’inasatisfiedway,andweknowtheconnectiontoheavenhasbeenmade.Thegirls,clearlyfeelingtheirdistrustofhimvindicated,leanandwiggleagainsttheirmother,kicktheirfeetup,andwhimper.Theirmother’shanddartsoutoftheburka,andinonesmartswipe,shespanksallfour.NervouseyesonIce-candy-man,thegirlsstickafingerintheirmouthsandcowerquietly.

Holdingtheendsofthecopperwireinonehand,theholymanstretchestheotherskywards.Pointinghislongindexfinger,murmuringthemysticnumbers‘786’,hetwirlsaninvisibledial.Hebringstheinvisiblereceivertohiscarandwaits.Thereisapervasiverumble;asofatigerpurring.Wegrowtense.Then,startlinguswiththevolumeofnoise,themusclesofhisneckandjawsstretchedlikecords,thecrazedholymanshoutsinPunjabi:‘Allah?DoYouhearme,Allah?Thispoorwomanwantsason!Shehasfourdaughters…one,two,three,four!Youcallthisjustice?’

Ifindhisfamiliarityalarming.HeaddressesGodas‘tu’,insteadofusingthemorerespectful‘tusi’.I’msureifIweretheAlmightyI’dbeoffended;nomatterhowmadtheholyman!Idistancemyselffromhimmentally,andobservehimsternfacedandrebuking.

‘Haven’tYouheardherpray?’Ice-candy-manshouts.Coveringtheinvisiblemouthpiecewithhishand,inanapologeticaside,hesays:‘He’sbeenbusyoflate…Youknow;allthisIndianindependencebusiness.’Hebringsthereceivertohisearagain.

Suddenlyhespringsup.Thumpinghisnoisytridentontheground,performingacuriousjumpingdance,heshouts:‘WahAllah!WahAllah!’soloudlythatseveralpeoplewhohavebeenwatchingthegoings-onfromafar,hastilygetupandscamperover.Sikhs,Hindus,Muslimsformathickcircleroundus.InoticemylittleSikhfriend.IcantellfromthereverentfacesaroundmethattheybelievetheyareinthepresenceofaholymancrazedbyhisloveofGod.Andthemadderthemystic,thegreaterhispower.

‘Wah,Allah!’shoutsIce-candy-man.‘Thereisnolimittoyourmunificence!Toyou,kingandbeggararethesame!Toyou,thisson-lesswomanisqueen!Ah!theintoxicationofyourlove!Thedepthofyourcompassion!Theoceanofyourgenerosity!Ah!themiraclesofyourcosmos!’heshouts,workinghimselfintoastate.And,justassuddenlyasheleaptuptodancebefore,henowdropstothegroundinastonytrance.Ourearsstillringingfromhisshouts,weassumehissoulisincommunionwithGod.

Thewomanintheburka,believingthattheholymanhasintercededsuccessfullyonherbehalf,bowsherbodyingratitudeandstartsweeping.Thebeardedmanfumblesinthegathersofhistrousersandplacestwosilverrupees–bearingKingGeorge’simage–attheholyman’sentrancedtoes.

Holdingtheholyman’spiousfinger,feelingprivileged,Ireturntoourgroup.

‘Aiiayjee,aiiay!Sit,SufiSahib;sit!Wearehonoured!’exclaimthemeninhalfawed,halfmockingwelcome,makingroomforIce-candy-manbetweentheGovernmentHousegardenerandMasseur.Layinghistridentaside,lightingacigaretteandassuminghiscustomary,slouchingposeonthegrass,theholymanbecomesIce-candy-man.

TheGovernmentHousegardenerplaceshishandaffectionatelyonIce-candy-man’sthigh,andsays,‘Sufijee,haveyouheardthelatestabouttheLucknowMuslims?’Inhisquietway,heisgettinghisownbackforButcher’swise-cracksaboutthelevitatingvegetarianHindus.

TheoverlypoliteLucknowMuslimsarenotoriousforendlesslysaying:‘Afteryou,sir,’and‘No,sir,afteryou!’Myattentionisriveted.TheGovernmentHousegardenerrelateshisjoke.

TwoMuslimgentlemenarriveatapublictoiletatthesametime.

Oneinsists,‘Afteryou,sir.’

‘No,sir,youfirst!Afteryou!’insiststheother.

Until,eventually,oneofthemresignedlysays:‘Youmightaswellgofirst,sir…I’vebeen.’

Ayahbecomesbreathlesslaughingandalmostrollsonthegrass.Hersarislipsoffhershouldersandheradmirersrelishthebrowngleamofherconvulsedbellybeneathherskimpyblouse,andthefirmjoggleofherrotundbosoms.

AclutchofHinduchildrenwithcaste-marksontheirforeheads,curiousattheburstoflaughter,runuptimidlyandsuddenlyyell:‘ParseeParsee,croweaters!Croweaters!Croweaters!’

‘Wedon’t!Wedon’t!Wedon’t!’Iscream.

Thegardener,threateningtogetup,throwshisturbanatthemandtheyscamperinsquealingdisarray.

‘Whydotheysaythat?’Iaskfiercely.

‘Becausey’alldo“kaan!kaan!”atthetopofyourvoiceslikearowdyflockofcrows,’saysAyah.

Ice-candy-mantuckshisgreenshiftbetweenhislegsasifhe’swearingadhoti,andactinglikeatimidBanya,de-claims:

‘Wewereonlyseventeen;theywereagangoffour!

Howweran;howweran;aswe’dneverrunbefore!’

Itissoapttotheoccasionthatmyangervanishes.

Ihaveheardthiscoupletbefore.AglimpseoffourSikhs,MuslimsorParseesissupposedtosendamobofBanyasscurrying.

Chapter12

Astrangeblackboxmakesitsappearanceinmyparents’bathroom.

ItisSaturdayandCousinisvisitingfortheday.Mother,theindefatigablymirthsomeMrsBankwalla,MrsSinghandMaggiePhailbus,theschoolteacherwhoalsolivesonWarrisRoad,aresittingontheveranda.Havingdrawntheirchairsclosetothemarble-toppedcoffee-tabletheytalkinhushedvoicesthatfadeintosilencewhenwepass.EvenMrsBankwalla’sexplosiveconvivialityissubdued.I’venoticedalotofhushedtalkrecently.Inbazaars,restaurantsandlitteredalleysmenhuddleroundbicyclesorsquatagainstwallsinwhisperinggroups.

Weareplayingkick-the-caninthegarden.Cousin,AdiandPeterformoneteamandRosy,Ayah,Papoo-with-babe-on-hipandItheother.It’sgirlsversusboys,andhavingPapooonoursidecompensatesforRosy’serraticplay.

AbruptlyCousinputshishandonhisflyand,awkwardlyshufflinghisfeet,dashesaway.Thegameissuspended.

WhenCousinreturnswecantellbyhisstudiednonchalancehehassomethingtotell.Wegatherabouthim.Afterslidinghiseyesthiswayandthathelooksatusoutofthewideandinnocenteyeshedisplayswheneverhehassomethingtohide.Hesignalswithaslytiltofhishead,andAdi,shovingAyahfromtheback,rushesheroutofthegarden.Ayahgood-naturedlydisappearsintothekitchen.

‘Ihaveseensomethingstrange,’confidesCousinpor-tentously.‘Followme.’

Inafurtivegroupwemovepasttheporticotothesideofthehouse.Cousinpushesopenthebathroomdoor.WegetawhiffofDettoland,aswecrowdthesteps,Iimmediatelyseetheblackwoodenbox.Itisheavy-looking,aboutafoothigh,longand,narrow.Likeacoffinforaverythinman.Rosy,turningpale,whispers,‘Someoneisdead.’

Weareagreeditisacoffin.Itlookssinisterenough.Butthespeciesofthecorpsebafflesus.AdiandPetersquattoexaminethestays.

‘It’slocked,’saysCousin,whohasalreadyexaminedthelocks.Withoutawordheattemptstoliftthebox.Igiveahand.Rosyshiesaway.Theboxisheavy,andintheconstrictedspaceweareonlyabletoliftitafootorso.Wetrytoshakeitandtiltit.Thereisaveryslight,heavyanddullmovement.

‘Definitelyacorpse,’declaresPeter.

‘Asifyoucantell,’Isay.

‘Whatelsecantherebeinacoffin,stupid!’saysAdi.

WehearMother’svoice.Footstepsinthebedroom.Weexchangealertglancesandscamperintothegardentoresumeourgame.

Cousinkicksthemisshapencandistractedly,andourpursuitofhimishalf-heartedandabstracted.

Butnoonetellsuswhat’sinthatbox.

‘Asnake?Askeleton?Acorpse?’

Theservantsdon’tknow.Theotheradultsmaintainamaddeningsilence.Wearenottobeinquisitive:itbelongstoFatherandit’snobody’sbusinessbuthis.

Wewanderaboutwithglazed,preoccupiedeyesandpinchedfaces.Wewasteaway.

Electric-aunthasbeguntoforce-feedCousin.Shepincheshisnostrils:andwhenheopenshismouthtobreathepopsinatablespoonoffood.Shereleaseshisnostrilsonlyafterheswallowsthemorsel.

Motherbeginstositwithusatoursmalltablewiththeoil-clothand,beguilinguswithfairy-tales,charminguswithhervoice,slipsspoonfulsintoourmouths.

MucchochasesPapoowithabroomshouting:‘Hai,myfate!Ifthataccursedslutdiesonme,howwillIshowmyfacetoJemadarTotaRam?’

TotaRamisPapoo’sprospectivehusband…Analmostmythicalfigurenoone’sseen.

EvenMrsSinghhasbeguntosuperviseheroffspring’sfeed.

Gandhijeetooisoffhisfeed,wehear.ThereisaslaughterofMuslimsinBihar–hedoesnotwantittospreadtoBengal.

Itdoesn’t.

InspiredbyGandhijee,welaunchamoredeterminedfast.

Weturnsallow,hollow-eyed,pot-bellied.Electric-aunt’sfrenziedanxietybecomeschronic.Motherturnsintoaprophetessofdoom.‘Markmywords,’shesayseerily,‘you’llremainweaklingstherestofyourlives!’

Mucchohastakentobeatingherhollowbreastsandcrying:‘WhatfacewillIshowTotaRam?’AndMrsSinghismovedtowringherhands!

Theirstrategieschange.Cousinisforce-fedchocolatesandCarry-Homeice-creambymyresourcefulaunt.Theyareeasiertoforce-feedthanfood.Hegoesaboutwithstucknostrilsandanopenmouth.Mother’sfairy-talesturnintohorror-storiesandeverytimewe

formourlipsinan‘O’andsuckinourhorrifiedbreaths,weunwittinglyalsosuckinfood.TheirAmericanmotherissoupsetwhenshesitsbeforeRosy-Peter’shollowcheeksandfullplatesthatsheburstsintotears:andRosy-Peter,astoundedbythisspectacleofmaternalemotion,permithertopourfoodintotheirgapingmouths.Mucchohasstartedsweet-talkingandspoon-feedingherstupefiedandincredulousdaughter.

Col.Bharuchagivesuscalcium-and-glucoseinjections.

IftheywanttogetGandhijeetoeatthenexttimehefaststheyshouldsendforMucchoandElectric-auntandMotherandCol.Bharucha.AndeventheunformidableMrsSingh.

Asmysteriouslyasithasappeared,theboxdisappears.

***

WhileIleadthelifeofaspoiltlittlebratwithpretensionstodiet,fortymileseastofLahore,inaMuslimvillage,Rannaleadstheunspoiltlifeofavillageboyshornofpretensions.WhileAyahshovelsspoonfulsofchickenintomymouthasIdoodlewithPlasticine,Chidda,squattingbytheclayhearth,feedshersonscrapsofchapattidippedinbuttermilk.Allday,bakedbythesun,Rannarompsinthefieldsandplayswithdung.And–whenIclosemyeyesandIwishto–Iseeussquattingbeneaththebuffalo,ourmouthsopenandeyesclosed,asDostMohammaddirectssquirtsofmilkstraightfromtheudderintoourmouths–andIcanstilltasteitsfodderysweetness.

ItisalittleoverayearsincemyvisittoRanna’svillage.ImamDin,whofeelsthatthetensioninthecitieswillspreadtothevillages,andisconcernedforhisnumerouskininPirPindo,decidestopaythemanothervisit.WhenIexcitedlyprotestandexclaimthatIwillgowithhim,hesurprisesmebyagreeingatonce,inapreoccupiedway,thatIcanifMotherconsents.

MotherconsultsFather,herfriends,Ayah;andfinallygivesherhesitantpermission–providedwegobytrain.Trainsdon’tgotoPirPindo,butwecangetoffatThokar,andhireatongaforthetworemainingmiles.

WehavebeeninPirPindofortwodays.OnBaisakhi,thedaythatcelebratesthebirthoftheSikhreligionandofthewheatharvest,wegotoDeraTekSingh.IrideonImamDin’sshoulders,Rannaonhisfather’s–attheheadofaprocessionofnephews,uncles,cousins,brothers,grandsonsandgreat-grandsons.Thewomenandgirls–exceptforme,becauseIaminsistent,andfromthecity–staybehindasalways.ThemengototheBaisakhiFaireveryyear:beforeRannawasborn–beforehisgreat-grandfatherwasborn!

DostMohammadiswalkinginfrontofus.Hisheadwrappedinacrispwhitepuggaree,hislungibarelyclearingthemudbehindhissqueaky-newcurly-toedshoes,ahookahswinginginhisrighthand,helookslikeaprosperouslandlord:and,ridingatophisfather’sshoulders,Rannaimaginedthattheothervillagerslookedattheminaweandsaidamongthemselves(asPunjabis–evenlittleones–arewanttoimagine),‘Wah!There

goesthatfine-lookingzemindar;walkingattheheadofhisfamilywithhishandsomesononhishead!’

ItisthethirteenthofApril.Thewheathasbeenharvested;thespringrainshavespentthemselves,andtheearthispowdery.FromontopofImamDin’sheadIseetheothergroupsofvillagersconvergingonDeraTekSingh–Hindu,Muslim,Sikh–astheyraisetheirownmajestictrailsofdust.

Thefestivalisalreadyinfullswingwhenwearrive.Agroupoffourfierce-lookingSikhs,theirhairtiedinturbansandwearingcalf-lengthshirtsovertightchuridarpyjamas,performtheGhadkabeforedriftingwavesofadmirers.Wieldinglongswordsandstaves,clashingthemtothebeatofdrums,thedancerslunge,parry,andtwirltotheaccompanimentoffolksingersextollingthevalourofancientSikhwarriors.Thesingersshriek,theirvoiceshoarsefromthedust,andtheefforttobeheardabovetheuproar.Thereareseveralsuchgroups.

DostMohammadleadsustotheheartofthefair:totheridesandfoodstalls.Fryingonionpakoras.Abubbling,spicystewofchickpeas.Pinkandyellowcloudsofspun-sugarcandy.Helium-filledballoons.Oureverystepdeflectedbyaromas.Thefamilyscatters.RannaandIspendmostofoursmallallowanceonfood;stuffingourselvesonsyrupygulab-jamansandjalebis.Wescrambleforseatsonthecreakingferris-wheel,itssixwoodentraysswayingfromsixwoodenspokes.Eachtrayisjammedwithchildren,andthestonesthatarejuggledfromonetraytoanothertobalancethem.Agileattendantsscrambleamongthespokeslikeacrobatstoturnthewheelwiththeweightoftheirbodies.DostMohammadliftsusintoatray.Idon’ttrusttheshallowrailingguardingus;andasweorbit,ourdelightedlimbscramped,oureyesnarrowedagainstthewind,IclingtoRanna.Holdingthericketyedgeoftheswayingtraywithonehand,hesupportsmewiththeother.

Weridethemerry-go-roundswithmetalseatsandtheseesaws.Anddespitethegaietyanddistractions,Rannasensesthechillspreadbythepresenceofstrangers:theirunexpectedfacesharshandcold.ASikhyouthwhomRannahasmetafewtimes,andwhohasalwaysbeenkind,pretendsnottonoticeRanna.Othermen,whowouldnormallysmileatRanna,slidetheireyespast.Littlebylittle,withouthisbeingawareofit,hissmilebecomesstrainedandhislaughterstrident.‘What’sthematter?’Iaskhim.‘Nothing,’hesays,surprised.

IntheafternoonDostMohammadtakesuswithhimtovisitJagjeetSingh.HehashishookahwithhimsohewaitsoutsidetheGurdwarawhilewegointosummonthegranthi.JagjeetSinghissittingcross-leggedinfrontofanopenGranthSahib.Itisrestingonanelaboratelycarvedwalnutstand.Ihaveneverseenabooksolarge.Surely,ifGoddwellsinbooks,Hedwellsinoneaslarge!LaterthatnightRannatoldmethathehadwishedthattheholyKorantheirmullahoccasionallydisplayedwaslarger.

JagjeetSinghleadsustohischarpoybeneathayoungbanyanalreadyspreadingitstendershadeoverpartofthetemplewall.HeshoutstoaSikhboywashingutensilsatawelltofetchtea.DostMohammadasksthegranthi’spermissiontolighthishookah.

DostMohammadhasnoticedthepresenceofstrangerstoo.Aftertheboyhandsusourtea,andwesettledowntoblowingintoandsippingfromthesteamingbrassmugs,heasks:‘JagjeetSingh-jee,youhavealargenumberofvisitorstothefairthisyear…Allthosestalwartsinblueturbanswithstavesandlongkirpans…?’

Thegranthi’sgenialfacebecomesuncommonlysolemn.HerubsthepuffyskinaroundhiseyesandInoticehowoldandtiredhelooks.‘Idon’tknowwhattosay,’hesays,bowinghishead.‘TheyareAkalis…TheImmortals…MaharajaRanjeetSinghformedthesectwhenheconqueredthePunjabahundredyearsago.’And,thoughthereisnooneelsethatIcansee–theSikhboyisinanycasetoofarawaytohear–hemovesclosertoDostMohammad.Loweringhisvoice,hesays:‘IvisittheGoldenTempleatAmritsarfromtimetotime…TheAkalisswarmarounditlikeangryhornetsintheirblueturbans…Iwishthey’dremainthere!’Hepauses;then,scratchinghiscurlybeardandfrowninghesays:‘TheytalkofaplantodrivetheMuslimsoutofEastPunjab…TodividethePunjab.Theysaytheywon’tlivewiththeMussulmansifthereistobeaPakistan.Owlishtalklikethat!Youknow,citytalk.It’smadness…Itcan’tamounttoanything…butthey’vealwaysbeenlikethat.Troublemakers.You’llhavetolookouttillthisevilblowsover.’

Idon’tknowwhereImamDinis.IwishtoGodhewerehere!Itis,almostexactly,whathe’sbeentellingthevillagersforthepasttwodays.DostMohammadappearstohavesunklowerintothecharpoy.Heisquietforsolongthatthegranthiturnstolookathimanxiously.IfeelDostMohammad’sthightwitchagainstmine.Heraiseshisheadslowly,andatlasthesays,‘We’lllookout…Don’tworryJagjeetSingh-jee…Wekeeptrackofthingsonourchaudhry’sradio.’

‘MaytheTenGurushelpus,’thegranthisighs.‘WahGuru!’

Ashortwhilelater,pressingthesmallofhisback,andactingold,ImamDinlumbersup,sighing,‘YaAllah!YaRahman!YaRahim!’Seeingourmugs,heasksfortea.Othermen,SikhandHindufriendsandafewvillagersfromPirPindo,strollupintwosandthrees,andgrouparoundthegranthi’scot.TheytalkofeverythingbuttheintrusivepresenceoftheAkalis.BeforeduskDostMohammad’syoungerbrother,Iqbal,joinsus.HehasboughtsomelandinavillagefourmileswestofPirPindoandhadmovedthere.HiswifeisRanna’sfavouriteaunt.HelovesgoingtotheirvillagetoplaywithhiscousinsandtobespoiltbyhisNonichachi.Shealwayshassomethingspecialforhimtoeatorwear,hetellsme.Hisuncletossesaknittedskull-capintoRanna’slap,saying,‘Here’ssomethingfromyourNonichachi,pahailwan!’HecallsRannapahailwan,wrestler.Itisanaffectionateformofaddress.Rannawearsthecapatonceandhisunclelaughsandmusseshishair.

‘You’dbetterleavebeforeitgetsdark,’JagjeetSinghsaysquietlytoDostMohammad;theothermenaretalkingamongthemselves.‘There’snotellingwho’saboutthesedays…andnotallofthemareyourfriends.’

Thesunhasset,butitisstilllightenoughtosee.Rannawasleaningagainsthisfatherwhenthegranthispoke.Thetoneofthegranthi’svoice,thesadness,andtheresignationinit,turnedtheheavinessinRanna’sheartintothefirststaboffear.Eveninretrospect,theseisolatedimpressionsdidn’tadduptoareliablewarning.PirPindowastoodeepinthehinterlandofthePunjab,wheredistancesaremeasuredinfootstepsandatthespeedofbullock-carts,forlargerpoliticstopenetrate.

TheSikhsofDeraTekSinghescortushalfwaytoPirPindo.

Thateveningwecrowdintothechaudhry’scourtyardtolistentohisradio.TheCongressandMuslimLeaguespokesmen,theannouncersays,warnthepeasantsnottoheedmischievousrumours.EvenMasterTaraSingh,theleaderoftheAkaliSikhs,tellsthepeasants–especiallytheMuslims–toremainwheretheyare.Noonewilldisturbthem.

***

Afewdayslater,inLahore,wehearofattacksonMuslimvillagesnearAmritsarandJullunder.Buttheaccountsarecontrary–andthedetailssobrutalandbizarrethattheycannotbebelieved.ImamDintellsYousafandAyahthatheissureitisAkalipropaganda,calculatedtoscaretheMuslimpeasants.Andevenifitdoesscarethem,heasks,whatgoodwillitdotheAkaliSikhs?WherecanthescaredMuslimvillagersgo?Therearemillionsofthem.EvensupposeDostMohammadandhisfamilyleavePirPindo,whichtheycan’t…howcantheyabandontheirancestors’graves,everyinchoflandtheyown,theirotherkin?howwilltheyeverholduptheirheadsagain?SupposeeverysinglepersoninPirPindocanholdhisownsomeplaceelse–eventhenmillionsofMussulmanswillbeleftinEastPunjab!Wherewilltheygo?No,hesays,Ihaveseenformyself;theycannotthrowtheMussulmansout!

***

AfortnightaftertheBaisakhiFair,lateintheafternoon,anarmytruckdisgorgesafamilyofvillagersoutsideourgate.Hearingthenoise,Iruntothekitchen.ImamDinisstandingintheopendoor,staringatastringofmen,womenandchildrenastheytroopupourdrive.IrecognisesomeofthefacesfromPirPindo;theyaredistantkin–notofhisimmediatefamily–cousins,nephewsorgreat-grandnephewsthriceremoved.Iwonderhowhewillaccommodatethemallinhisquarters.Ayahhasonelookathisfaceandsays,‘Go,greetthem.I’llpreparetheteaandparathas.’YousafandHari,followedbyImamDin,welcomethevillagersandleadthemtothequartersattheback.

ThewomenandchildrenaredistributedamongImamDinandAyah’squarters.ThemenwillsleepinHariandYousaf’s.Thereisasteepfallinthetemperatureatnight,anditisstilltoocoldtosleepout.Itisdifficulttocountthem;thebabiesalllookalike.

Excludingthetinybabies,thereareatleastfifteenguests.Asthemensquatinthecourtyard,eatingfromacommontrayasMuslimsdo,theytelluswhathappenedthenightbefore.Theytellthestoryvividly,inthewayofpeasants,repeatingthedialogue,presentingeachdetailofexpressionandmovement,trans-portingustothevillage.

LateintheeveningthreemilitarylorrieshadlumberedintoPirPindogougingdeeprutsinthefieldsandlayingwasteswathesofsugarcane,TheywereGurkhasoldierscometoevacuatethem.

‘ThoseMussulmanswhowanttogotoPakistanhadbettergetintothetruck,’asoldiershoutedthroughamegaphone.Hewasshortandstockylikemostofhisrace,andhissmallTibetanfeaturesappearedfrighteninglyalientothevillagers.‘Wewillleaveatdawn.’

‘What?’thepuzzledvillagersasked.‘IsPakistanalreadythere?’

‘Whoknows,’saidtheGurkha.‘I’mtellingwhatI’mtoldtosay.’

Thevillagersgatheredintheopenyardoftheirmosque.Theysquattedinatightarcroundthemullahandthechaudhry.Iimaginetheirfaces:obstinate,dazed.Andthechaudhry’sas,smilingwryly,attemptingwithsarcasmandwisdomtomaskhispanic,hesays:‘Doyouexpectustowalkawaywithourhandsandfeet?Whatusewilltheyserveuswithoutourlands?Canyouevacuateourland?’heaskscunningly.Andthevillagers,asiftheyareatadebatewheretheirchaudhry’switisscoringpoints,nodtheirheadsandsay:‘Wha!Wha!Wellsaid!Whatanswerdoyouhavetothat,HawaldarSahib?’

TheypepperedtheGurkhaswithformidablequestions.‘Andwhataboutourharvest?’theyasked.‘Andthecropwehavejustsown?Andourcattle?Whowillevacuatethem?’

Thesoldiers,unimpressedbythesarcasmandindifferenttothevillagers’confusionandtroubles,shruggedandsaid,‘We’rejustheretoevacuateyou:hands,feetandheads.Nothingelse.We’vetoldyouwhywe’rehere;therestisuptoyou.’

‘Doyouexpectustoleaveeverythingwe’vevaluedandlovedsincechildhood?Theseasons,theangleandcolourofthesunrisingandsettingoverourfieldsarebeautifultous,theshapeofourroomsandbarnsisfamiliaranddear.Youcan’texpectustoleavejustlikethat!’

Thesoldierswereweary.Theystoodup.‘You’renottheonlyvillagewearetoevacuate,youknow,’oneofthemsaid.

Thechaudhryremainedquietandthesilencesettledlikeablackcloudovertheirheads,blockingoutthestars.Atlastthechaudhrysaid:‘Ifwehavetogo,ifit’sAllah’swill,wewillgowhenthetimecomes…Therighttime…’

‘Yes…Whenthetimecomes,weshallsee…saidthevillagers.

Thetrucksleftatdawn.Fivefamilies,wholikeourvisitorswerepoorrelativesandhiredhands,withnolandinthevillage,leftPirPindo,notcaringonewayortheotherwherethesunroseorset.

Chapter13

Thetimeshavechanged;theworldhaschangeditsmind.

TheEuropean’smysteryiserased.

Thesecretofhisconjuringtricksisknown:

TheFrankishwizardstandsandlooksamazed.

(Iqbal)

Alreadyitiswinter.Iamneverwarm.Ifeelcoldestinthemistymorningswhen,holdingHari’scallousedhandwithmychilblainedfingers,IwalkonchilblainedtoestoMrsPen’s.

ThecolderitgetsthemorereservedHaribecomes.Iknowheissecretlyshivering.ColdturnsmeweepyandHarisecretiveandMrsPenindulgent.Sheletsmeoffearly.

AtGodmother’sIgostraighttothekitchen.Iamhungry.Slavesisterwarmssomeleft-overcurryandgivesmethenewsthattheInspectorGeneralofPolice,MrRogers,isdead.Murdered.Hismutilatedbodydiscoveredinthegutter.

ForamomentIcannotbreathe.IfeelImightfall.

Iknowofdeath:agrandfatherdiedinKarachiandhisremainswereconsignedtotheTowerofSilence.Moti’srelativesareforeverdying…Buttheyweren’tmurdered.Ormutilated.Andtheyweren’tpeopleIknew!

‘Howmutilated?’Iask,shocked.

‘Neveryoumind,’saysSlavesister.

IhaveseengoatsslaughteredattheendoftheMuslimfastonEid.I’vewatchedthembeingdisembowelledand,withtheotherchildren,lineduptoblowintotheirmoistwindpipesandinflatetheirlungs.Butthoseweregoats.Nottallmenwithmoustachesandhaughtyvoicesandpolishedshoesandsubmissivewives…

‘Willhegotoheaven?’Iaskbreathlessly,clutchingatstraws.

‘Tohell!’saysMiniAuntywithunexpectedviciousness:givingmeanothershock.‘AllEnglishmenwillburninhellforthetroublethey’vestartedinthePunjab!Andletmetellyou.TheChristianhellisforever!’

Therelishinhervoiceisghoulish.IfeelsoupsetattheawfulfateawaitingMrRogers’smutilatedcarcassthatIcollapseonastool.Icannotfacethecurry.Irecallthepolice

inspector’schillyblueeyesthatsonarrowlyescapedmutilationbyMrSingh’sforkandthespit-polishedearsofhisorphanedchildren.

Istartsobbing.Godmothersitsupinbedandcalls:‘Hey!What’sthematter?’

‘MrRogersisdead,’Isaychokingonthewords.‘Hewillburninhellforever!’

‘Whosaidthat?’demandsGodmother,knowingverywellwho.

‘MiniAunty.’(That’sSlavesister’spet-name.I’veneverheardherrealname.)

‘Iknowwho’sgoingtoroastforeveriftheydon’twatchout!’saysGodmother.‘Don’tlistentoMini.Shehasnomoresensethanatwit!’

‘AftertheMountbattenplantotearupthePunjab…howcanyou…’mumblesSlavesister,shakingherheadatthestoveandlookingmartyred.

‘Ifyourmutilatedbodywasdiscoveredinthegutterthenyou’dknowhowitfeels!Bad-mouthingadeadman!’

Slavesisterclickshertongueandpeersintoasteamingpanandextrasweetlysmilesbecausesheisonthevergeoftears.Herpalebrownlips,thatdespitetheirclearoutlineandgenerouswidthareflat,flattenfurtherandstretchmoistly.

‘WilltheyputMrRogersintotheTowerofSilence?’Iask,comingtotheslave’srescue–andattemptingtogetthederailedconversationbackontrack.

‘He’sChristian.They’llburyhim,’saysGodmother.

ItoccurstomethatIdon’tknowenoughabouttheTower.PerhapsIwastooyoungwhenIfirstheardofit…TheshockofMrRogers’sdemisemakesmecuriousaboutallaspectsofdying.‘WhatistheTowerofSilence?’Iask.

‘WecallitDungarwadi:notTowerofSilence.TheEnglishhavegivenitthatfunnyname…Actuallyitisquiteasimplestructure:justabigroundwallwithoutanyroof,’saysGodmother.

‘So?’Ipersist.

‘Sonothing!’interjectstheungratefulslavecrankily.‘Whenlittlegirlsasktoomanyquestionstheirtonguesdropoff!’

‘Iwasn’taskingyou,’Iretort,andpokingmytongueather,pointedlyturntoGodmother.Godmothernevertalksdowntomelikethat.

‘ThedeadbodyisputinsidetheDungarwadi,’explainsGodmother.‘Thevulturespickitcleanandthesundriesoutthebones.’

ImustlookfrightfulbecauseGodmotherpatsthebedandsays,‘Comehere.’

Isitdown,facingher,anddrawingmecloseshesays:‘Mindyou…It’sonlythebodythat’sdead.Insteadofpollutingtheearthbyburyingit,orwastingfuelbyburningit,we

feedGod’screatures.Thesoul’sinheaven,chattingwithGodinanycase…OrbroilinginhelllikeMini’swill.’

Ifeelcuriouslydeprived.Here’sanarchitecturalwondercreatedexclusivelybythecharitableParseestofeedGod’screaturesandIhaven’tevenseenit.AndIdon’twanttowaituntilI’mdead!MrRogers’smurderedandmutilatedbodyisforgottenandmyeyesstoptearing.

‘Iwanttoseeit,’Idemand.

‘Wedon’thaveoneinLahore,’saysGodmother.‘TherearetoofewParsees:thevultureswouldstarve.ButwhenyougotoKarachiorBombayyoucanseeitfromtheoutside.Onlypall-bearerscangoin…Wehaveagrave-yardinLahore.’

‘ThankGod!’saysMiniAuntysoemphaticallythatGodmother–whoviewsallemphaticstatementsfromMiniAuntyasdirectchallengestoherauthority–rearsupfromherpillowsdemanding:‘Why?What’stheretothankGodfor?’

‘Iprefertobeburied.’

‘Oh?Why?’

‘Youknowwhy!Itgivesmethecreeps…Thethoughtofvulturessmackingtheirbeaksovermyeyeballs!’

‘You’dratherhaveyoureyeballsriddledbymaggots?Wouldyoulikemetopostasignoveryourbodystating:Maggotsonly.Novulturesallowed?’

‘Really,Rodabai!Idon’twanttotalkorthinkaboutit.PleaseforgetIever…’

‘Idon’tknowwhatyouhaveagainstthepoorvultures…favouringthemaggotsandwormsoverthem!I’dbeashamedtocallmyselfaZoroastrianifIwereyou.’

‘Beingdevouredbyvultureshasnothingtodowiththereligion…SurelyZarathustrahadmoreimportantmessagestodeliver…’

‘SincewhenhaveyoubecomeanauthorityonZarathustra?’demandsGodmother.‘Haven’tyouheardofParseecharity?OnlylastmonthSirEduljeeAdenwallahadhislegamputatedinBombay.Sickashewas,hesatinawheelchairallthroughtheceremoniesandhadhislegdepositedintheDungarwadi!AndwhatdoyouthinkhappenswhenParseediabetics’toesarecutoff?Doyouthinktheydiscardtheminthewaste-basketanddeprivethevultures?’

HoldingthedrippingladlealoftMiniAuntycoversherearswithherplumpandmusculararmsandsays:‘Idon’twanttoknow!’

EvenI’mfeelingqueasy.Godmotherlooksatmeandholdsherpeace;andMiniAunty,pressingheradvantage,says:‘Imustsay,youcanbeghoulishsometimes.Iwishyouwouldn’ttalksuchnonsensebeforethechild…’

‘Whatdoyoumean,nonsense?’challengesGodmother.‘Whowastheonetalkingabouteternalroastingsinhell?’

‘YouknowwhatImean,Roda…Nowdon’t…’

‘Who’sRoda?Who’spermittedyoutocallmeRoda?Sincewhenhaveyoubecomemyeldersister?’

‘YouknowIdidn’tmeanitthatway.’

‘Whichwaydidyoumeanit,then?’

Slavesister,almostontiptoe,hoversquietlyoverthestove.Herwetsmileisflattening.Hereyesdonotdaretoshiftfromthebubblingcontentsofthepansheisstirring.

‘Somepeoplearegettingtoobigfortheirboots…Somepeoplearebecomingquiteairy-fairy!’

Slavesistermumbles:‘Onlymybunion’sgettingtoobig…I’llcutitoffandmailittotheDungarwadi.’

‘What?’queriesGodmother.‘WhatisyourHighnessmumbling?’

‘Oh!Allright,allright!Carryon…youmusthaveeverythingyourway,Rodabai…fillingthechild’smindwithsuchnotions…mumble,mumble.’

‘Don’tyouallright,allrightme!I’llhaveyourcarcassflownstraighttothevultures!’

Slavesisterdoesn’tanswer.Onlyshakesherheadandmutters.Shewillnotanswerbacknow.Shetoohaslearnedfromexperience.

‘Smallmouth,bigtalk!’grumblesGodmotherasiftoherself,butloudenoughforSlavesistertohear.‘Littlemindsshouldnotattempttoweighinbigfish!’

Stillpoisedforattack,eyesbright,GodmotherwaitstoseeifSlavesisterwillrespond.

ButSlavesister’sinsurgencehasbeeneffectivelysquashed.Shemaintainsastrategicsilence,suppressingevenhermumbles.

Godmothermakesamagicallytriumphantface.Sheholdsherpointyfingersina‘V’forvictory,winksatmeandleansbackonherconcretepillows.

IgointothekitchentofinishmycurrybutIcannoteat.MrRogers’sEnglishtoesandkidneysfloatbeforemydisembodiedeyeballs…

AndthevisionofatornPunjab.Willtheearthbleed?Andwhataboutthesunderedrivers?Won’ttheirwaterdrainintothejaggedcracks?NotsatisfiedbybreakingIndia,theynowwanttotearthePunjab.

Yousafcomestofetchme.Thesunhashadtimetowarmtheafternoon.Itisbalmy.‘Let’sgothroughtheLawrenceGardens,’Iurge,andYousaf,unabletodenyanyone,makesthedetourthroughthegardens.Westopalongatrimmedgardeniahedgetolookatthesunken

rose-garden;andweclamberuptheslopesofartificialhillsandrundownbougainvillaeavalleysablazewithwinterflowers.CastinglongshadowswetakeapathleadingtowhereYousafhasparkedhiscycle.

OurshadowglidesoveraBrahminPandit.Sittingcross-leggedonthegrassheiseatingoutofaleaf-bowl.HelooksatYousaf–andatme–andhisfaceexpressesthefullrangeofterror,passionandpainexpectedofaviolatedvirgin.Ourshadowhasviolatedhisvirtue.ThePanditcringes.Hisfeaturesshrivelintoaridlittleshrimpsandhisbodyretracts.Thevermillioncaste-markonhisforeheadglowslikeanaccusingeye.Helooksathisfoodasifitisinfectedwithmaggots.Squeamishlypickinguptheleaf,hetipsitscontentsbehindabushandthrowsawaytheleaf.

Iamadiseasedmaggot.IlookatYousaf.Hisfaceisdrainedofjoy,bleak,furious.Iknowhetoofeelshimselfcomposedofshit,crawlingwithmaggots.

NowIknowsurely.Oneman’sreligionisanotherman’spoison.

Iexperiencethisfeelingofutterdegradation,ofbeinganuntouchableexcrescence,anoutcastagain,yearslaterwhenIholdoutmyhandtoaParseepriestataweddingandhe,thinkingIammenstruatingbeneathmyfaçadeofdiamondsandasequinnedsari,cringes.

***

Latethateveningthereisafamiliarpatternofsound.

Againthey’reafterHari’sdhoti.Butinsteadofthelight,quickpatterofbarefeetthereistheharshscrapeanddragofleatheronfrozenearth.

Itdoesn’tseemquiterighttotoywithaman’sdhotiwhenitissocold.Itisasummersport.

Someoneshouts,‘Gethimbeforehegetsintohisquarters!’IhearImamDin’sbullying,bluffbarrukashebellows:‘Aha-hurrr!A-vaaaaaaay!’And,closertohisquarry,Yousaf’sprovocativebubbly‘Vo-vo-vo-vo-vo-vo,’asrunninghetapshismouthinquicksuccession.Curses!HairallovermybodycreepsaslantasIhearHari’salarmedcry.

SnatchingmeupandstraddlingmeonherhipAyahflingsopenthebathroomdoorandrunsout.Iamstruckbythecold:andtheapproachofnightcastsuneasyshadowsoverasceneIhavewitnessedonlyindaylight.Somethingelsetooisincongruous.ThewintershawlwrappedaroundHari.

Yousafistwirlinghisplumeofhairandtuggingatitasifhe’stryingtolifthim.IfeelagreatswelloffearforHari:andasurgeofloathingforhisbodhi.Whymusthepersistingrowingit?andflaunthisHinduism?andinviteridicule?

Andthatpreposterousandobscenedhoti!wornlikeadiaperbetweenhisstringylegs–justbeggingtobetakenoff!

Mydreadassumingaviolentandcruelshape,ItearawayfromAyahandflingmyselfonthehumantangleandfighttoclawatHari’sdhoti.

Someonepullsoffhisshawlanditistrampledunderfoot.Handsstretchandpullhisunravellingmauvelady’scardigan(Mother’shand-me-down)andripoffhisshirt.Hisdhotiishanginginraggededgesand,suddenly,it’soff!

LikeawitheredtreefrozeninawinterlandscapeHaristandsisolatedinthebleakcentreofourviolence:pricklywithgoose-bumps,sootygenitalsondisplay.

Withheavy,old-man’smovements,ImamDinwrenchestheshawlfromunderourfeetandthrowsitatthegardener:andthetatteredragthatwashisdhoti.‘Coverup,youshamelessbugger,’hesays,attemptinghisusualbanteringmanner:butthereisagruffuncontrollableedgetohisvoice.Heisnotateasewithcruelty.

Ilookback.TheShankarsstandontheirverandalikefatshadows.Ayahhasturnedherfaceaway.Iruntoher.Idigmyfaceinhersariandstretchupmyhands.Ayahtriestoliftmebutherfluidstrengthisgone.Hergripisweak.Ihugherfiercely.HerheartbeneathherspringybreastsisflutteringlikeIce-candy-man’snervoussparrows.Sheraisesfrightenedeyesfrommyfaceand,turningtofollowhergaze,Iseeanobscuredshapestandingbythecompoundwall.Stirredbyabreeze,theshadowscastbyaeucalyptustreeshiftandsplinter,anddefinethestillfigureofaman.

Themanmovesoutofthedarkness,andasheapproachesIamrelieved.ItisonlyIce-candy-man.

Chapter14

AyahisseeingmoreofMasseur.So,soamI.WhenAyah’sworkisdone,andshestretchesoutintheafternoonsun,massagingbutterintohercalvesandsmoothshins,shehumsanewtuneandsighs:‘Siskihawanelee:HarpatiKanpoothi.Thebreezesuckedinhisbreath…Theleavestrembled,breathless.’It’sMasseur’ssong.Hesingsitinarumbling,soulfulbaritone:andhesingsoften.

IamseeingmoreofLahore,too.AyahandIroamonfootandbybus:fromEmperorJehangir’stombatShahdaratoShahjehan’sShalimarGardens.FromtheoutskirtsoftheslaughterhousetothebanksoftheRaviinlowflood.Weamblethroughthetallpampasgrass–purposefullypurposeless–andsniffingtheattarofroses,happenuponMasseur:hiscreamybosky-silkshirt,hisstrongforearmsandbroadanklesstretchedoutonadhurrieonthegreysand.

Hiscruetsetofoilsbesidehim,Masseurturns,makingroomforAyah,andhiseyes,fullofhoney,showerherwithhismaddeningdreams.Theylie,sidebyside,astalkofgrassstuckatathoughtfulanglebetweenMasseur’steethashetraceswithaskilfulfingerAyah’spartedlips.

IgetupandMasseursays,‘Lennybaby,don’tgofar.’Hisvoiceisgravellywithdesireanditmakessomethinghappeninmystomach:aswhenSharbatKhan,radiantwithlove,oglesAyah.

IknowAyahisbeyondspeech–herwillgivenovertoamaestro’svirtuosity.Masseur’sconsummatearmcirclesAyah…

Caressingmethroughthepampasthebreezemoanswithlove–andbringstomeMasseur’ssong:

‘Springbloomedinmoonlitwildernesses–

Headywithsaptheflowersswayed–

Andarose,bubbling,

Dancinginthebreeze,

Attractedabumble-bee–

Floating,frolicking,thebumble-beecame–

Struttingamongtheflowers,strumminglove.’

Andso,thebumble-beecourtstherose.Ilistentothewordsunfoldingtherose’stragicstoryandwaitintentlyforthechangeinMasseur’svoice.

‘Andthenoneday[hesingsinaverylowandurgentkey]

Whenallwashushed–

Nostars,andintheskynomoon–

Thebeestoletherose’syouth–’

Thereitis.Thefearfulandtragicclimax!Theroseawakens,weeps,shrivels,swoons!Andnature,inallitsmarvelloustenderness,commiserates:

‘Thebreezesuckedinhisbreath–

Theleavestrembledbreathless–

Moist-eyedthestarswinkedout–

Iwaitawhile,watchingtheshallowboatsdriftsluggishlyontheshallowRavi.Themeninthem,stillasthedead,remaincomatoseastheboats,bumpingalongtheshoals,rightthemselvesandfloatslowlydownstream.

***

WehearMasseur’ssongcallingfromthefountains,cypressesandmarbleterracesoftheShalimarGardens.WehearhimsingingfromthegiddyheightsoftheminaretsloomingaboveEmperorJehangir’stomb–directinghisvoicelikeashowerofpetalstosummonAyah.

Ayahcomes.Andwithher,likealamelimpet,comeI.

WefindMasseurwaitingforusontheartificialhillbehindthezoolion’scageandbythechatteringmonkeysandamongthepeacocks.TheheavypleatsofhisMultani-silklungifallinslenderfoldstohisanklesasleaningagainstthepalinghewaitsforAyah.Andwhenshecomes,thepeacocksspreadtheirtailfeathers.AndMasseur’smovementsunfoldtherichpleatsinhischeckedlungi.

WhereMasseuris,Ayahis.AndwhereAyahis,isIce-candy-man.

Isensehispresence.

WhileMasseur’svoiceluresAyahtothedizzyeminenceofoneminaret,itcompelsIce-candy-mantoclimbthewindingstairstotheotherminaret.OntheriverbankIsensehisstealthypresenceinthetallclumpsofpampasgrass.HelurksinthedenseshadeofmangoesintheShalimarGardensandinthefearsomesmellsskirtingtheslaughterhouse…Heprowlsontheothersideoftheartificialhillbehindthezoolion’scage,andconcealshimselfbehindthepeacockswhentheyspreadtheirtailfeathersandopentheirturquoiseeyes:hehasasmanyeyes,andtheyfollowus.

IntheeveningshevisitsAyahandsquattinglikeanungainlybirdinhiscottonshawlastoundsherwithhisknowledgeofourwanderings.Andwhenhisdriventoesaretoo

wearytoperformtheiramazingseduction,hisglibtonguetakesover.Ayah,wide-eyed,wrappedinthesilkenwebofhisgossip,drawscloser…

Ice-candy-manhasaninexhaustiblefundofgossip.

‘Ourliontamergotridofhistenantsatlast!’heannouncesonesultryafternooninElectric-aunt’sgarden.Hehasfollowedusthere.Myauntisbusyinsidefilingheraccountsinneatfiguresbeneaththecreditanddebitcolumns.WearesittingoutsidesoasnottodisturbherwhilewewaitforCousintoreturnfromschool.

‘Howdidhegetridofthem?Didhewinacase?’asksAyah.‘Didhegetthepolicetothrowthemout?’

‘Ifyouawaitcourtdecisions,youwaitforever,’saysIce-candy-manwithsuchcontemptandauthoritythatmyfaithinthejudicialsystemisforevershattered.

‘ItoldSherSinghtotakemattersinhand,’hecontinues.‘Itoldhim:Whygothroughalltherigmaroleofcourtsandnoticeswhenwehavetime-honouredremediesathand?’

AyahandIleancloser.Ayahispositivelywithinstrikingdistance.Ice-candy-man’stoetwitches,butitisaweary,footsorelittletwitchanditsimpulseeasilychecked.Imerelyglanceitswaysternlyandthetwitchceases.

‘AtfirstSherSinghhemmedandhedged,’saysIce-candy-man.‘Thenhesaid:“You’reaMussulman…ThetenantsareMussulmans…WhyshouldyouhelpaSikh?”’

Hisraconteur’sgiftplacesusinSherSingh’sshoesandwelookathimwiththesamequestionsinoureyes.

‘“Oye,youdonkey,”Itoldhim.“Sowhatifyou’reaSikh?I’mfirstafriendtomyfriends…Andanenemytotheirenemies…AndthenaMussulman!Godandthepoliticianshaveenoughservers.So,Iservemyfriends.”’

Nowhehasusinhisshoes.Ayahhasananimatedlookonherraptface.‘Tellus…whathappenedthen?’sheasksbreathlessly.

‘Lennychild,beagoodgirl,’saysIce-candy-man,snappinghisfingerstoflicktheashfromhiscigarette.‘Askthecooktomakemeastrongcupoftea.Go:putch-putch.’(Kissingnoisesusedtowheedlechildrendispatchedontrivialerrands.)

‘No,’Isay.‘I’mnotgoinganywhere:Ialsowanttolistentoyou.’

HeglancesatAyah.SinceAyahappearscontenttohavemestay,hesays:‘Well,SherSingh,hisbrothersPremandPratab,andoneortwocousins–allstrappingfellows…andI.Armedwithhockey-stickswewenttotheirtenants’housewhilethemenwereatwork.Wemadeabitofhulla-goollaoutsidethebuilding.Wavedourhockey-sticksandshouted:“Cometoyourwindows,prettyladies:don’thide.Wehavesomethingtoshowyou.”’

AyahandI,oureyesround,ourlipsparted,scarcelybreathe.

‘Weattractedacrowd.Therewerequiteafewdazzlingeyesatsomeoftheotherwindowsinthebuilding…Buttheladiesforwhosebenefitwewerestagingtheshowweremorebashful.

‘WhenIwassurewehadtheirattention–andtheywerepeepingatusthroughtheirreedblinds–asonemanweopenedourlungis!Insuchawayastoshieldourrears:andinfrontourdanglingdingdongs!’

TakingmycuefromAyah,Itoowearafaintlyscandalised,faintlyamusedexpression.

‘Weexposedourselvessothatonlytheycouldseeus.Thecrowdbehindusguessedwhatwashappening.Therewereoneortwocurses–oneortwocoarseremarks–butnointerference.Wemadeafewsuggestivegestures…youknow…Itlastedonlyfiveminutes…

‘Butwhatahulla-goolla!Thewomenscreamedandcursed…You’dhavethoughtwe’drapedthem!

‘Wegotwindthepolicewerecoming.Bythetimetheyappearedwe’dwrappedourlungisbackonandclearedout!’Ice-candy-man,halfstanding,moveshisbodyandhisarmslikeamagicianconjuringimages.

‘Ihearthemensworevengeanceandwhatnot.Butthismorningtheyclearedout!’

Thetriumphonhisfaceisinfectious:heseesitreflectedinours,andhisteethshowincreasinglywhiteashislipsstretchandstretchintoasmileinhisnarrowface.Hecrushesthestubofhiscigaretteintothegrass–andIheartheschoolbussqueaktoahaltasitdepositsmycousinoutsidethegate.

***

NexteveningwhenIce-candy-mancomestoourhouseInoticehistoeismorevigorous.Itisrested.Wedidn’twanderfartoday.OnlywenttoGodmother’s.

MasseurmassagesOldhusbandeveryThursday.Ayahwascontenttositonherhaunchesandwatchas,beforeourveryeyes,beneathhissupplefingers,Oldhusbandacquiredayouthfulglow!

Later,whenElectric-auntandCousinalsocametoGodmother’s,CousininformedmethatIce-candy-man’sbicyclewasparkedoutsideGodmother’sgate.InfactCousinhadpurchasedanddevouredaraspberrypopsicle.Heshowedmetheinsideofhisraspberry-stainedlowerlipanddrewmyattentiontoapaleredstainonhiskhakishorts.

Cousinislikethat.EvenwhenIbelievehim,heshowsme,showsme,showsmethings…

‘DidyouhearaboutBhagwandasthetailor?’Ice-candy-manasks,settlingdowncross-leggedonamatontheser-vants’verandaoutsideAyah’squarters.Ayahhasjustwashed

herlonghairand,havingbroughtitforwardoverhershoulder,isrunningacombativewoodencombthroughthewettangles.

‘Lennybaby,’Ice-candy-mantellsme,almostburyinghisheadinhiscuppedhandsashelightsoneofhissmellycigarettes,‘getmeaglassofwater.TellImamDinit’sformeandhewillputabitoficeinit.’

‘No,’Isay,leaningfirmlyonhistoe.‘I’mnotgoinganywhere.Ialsowanttoknowaboutthetailor.Tellme!’

‘Letherbe,’saysAyah,whoisascuriousasme.Bhagwandasishertailortoo.

‘Well,heranoffwiththeMissionpadre’swife!’Ice-candy-manpusheshispill-boxcapforwardrakishlyandlooksatAyahoutofthecornersofhisgleaminglightbrowneyes.

‘Hai!No!’saysAyah,lookingappropriatelygraveandscandalisedandforamomentpermittingthecombtoceaseitsstrugglewiththetangles.

‘Yes,’saysIce-candy-man,grinningintoouravidfaces.‘Youknowhowitiswhenyouwomenvisittailors…Thisisloose,thatistight.Alterthis,alterthat.Thetailor’sfingerstouchhere,smooththecloththere…’Ice-candy-man’shandstraystoAyah’sknees,andasheraisesittohershoulderhisfingersbrushherbosom.Ayah’seyesflashawarningandIce-candy-man’sserpentinearmfloatsaway.Heshiftshiseyesfromusandstaresingenuouslyintothefadingday.

‘Thepadre,poorfellow,stilldoesn’tknowwhathappened,’hesaysdreamily.‘He’samanofGod.Youknowhowtheyare.Simple.Butthetailorsareaslylot.Nevertrustthem,Lennybaby,withtheirmeasuringtapes,needlesandthreads–andsmoothingfingers.’

‘Where’syourwife?’Iask.I’veneverthoughttoaskhimbefore.

‘Inthevillage,withhermother.’

‘Whatifsherunsaway?’

‘Shewon’t.Theyhavenotailorsinthevillage.Nomasseurseither…withtheircunningfingerstakingliberties!’

Ayahlooksstartled.SodoI.ThisisthefirsttimehehasopenlyexpressedhisjealousyofMasseur.Althoughwehavebeenconsciousoftheundercurrentofhostilitybetweenthem,neitherAyahnorIrealiseditsdevelopmentintotheacrimonyIce-candy-man’sbittervoicehasjustexpressed.

Itchangesthecomplexionoftheevening.Ibecomeawareoftheduskthathasgatheredinshadowsonthedung-plasteredverandaandisthickbehindtheopendoorofAyah’squarters.Theearthfloor,compressedandsprinkledwithwaterandsweptclean,andhersmallstring-cot,largetintrunk,andpicturesandstatuesofgodsandgoddessesinthenichesareallobscured.

‘Whydon’tyoueverbringyourwifehere?Iwanttoseeher.Pleasebringherhere,’Iplead,frettinghim,tryingtotalkawaymymisgivings.

And,havingatthesametimetorestrainhisrefreshedtoes,Isitonthem.

‘What’llshedohere,Lennybaby?’saysIce-candy-man,onceagainfar-away-eyedandincontrol.‘She’susedtovillageways,andtoherfolkthere…Shedoesn’tliketostayinthecity…soIleaveherthere.’

‘Issheyouronlywife?’Iask.

ButAyahisrestiveandclampsmymouthshutwithherhand.‘Stopaskingsomanyquestions,’shesayswithunaccustomedirritability.‘Mendon’tlikesomuchtalkabouttheirwomenfolk.’

‘Oh,Idon’tmind.Letherbe,’saysIce-candy-man,pushinghiscapbacknowthattheimpressivebitofgossiphasbeenrelated.Hemussesmyhairand,openinghisthermos,reachesforapopsicle.

‘Raspberry!’Idemand,hopingthereisstillsomerasp-berryleft.

Thereis.RelinquishingmyseatonhistoesIstandup.

‘Oof!’saysAyahsuddenly,hercombcaughtpainfullyinhertangledhair.

Chapter15

TheperipheryofmyworldextendstoMozangandTempleRoad.EverySundayweaccompanytheShankarstotheDaulatrams’two-storeybrickhouseforaneveningofclassicalIndianmusic.ThesingersallmakefacesandstrangenoisesbutIsrarAhmedismyfavouritesingingboy.Wesitoncarpetsandthesingersonwhitesheetsfacingus.Theaccompanists–aharmoniumplayerandatabla-drumplayer–wiggletheirtoesandchewbetel-nut.

IsrarAhmed,anondescript,unassuming,middle-agedclerk,istransformedintoadervishwhenhetakeshisturnonthewhitesheet.Heflingshisarmsabout,openswidehismouth,displayspaan-stainedmolarsandmakesnoisesthatwouldturnthezooanimalsgreenwithenvy.Hegarglesupanddownthescale!Heroars!Hedislocateshisjawandhoistshismouthtooneside–andthentotheother.

Adi,CousinandIcannotcontainourselves.Inourfervourtoacquireclassicalculturewecopyhismovements,contortourfaces,twistournecksandareslappedandshushedforourpains.

***

Processionsarebecomingapartofthestreetscene.Ayouthholdsaloftastickwithagreenrag,bellowsaslogan,andagroupofrowdyurchinsrallytothecry.

AdiandIslippasttheattentionofourvigilantsandjointhetinytinpotprocessionsthatarespawnedonWarrisRoad.Weshoutourselveshoarsecrying,‘JaiHind!JaiHind!’or‘PakistanZindabad!’dependingonthewhimortheallegianceoftheprincipalcrier.Withinhalfanhourtheprocessionsdisintegrate.Theraggedflagholders,theirtrousersgreywithwashing,theirsingletspepperedwithholesandgreasespots,makeafewdesultoryattemptstorallythestragglers.Then,loweringthebanner,whichrevertstobecomingalowlyragonatwig,therabble-rouserusuallyclimbsamulberrytreeforitsfruitandwesneakbackunnoticed.

***

WearegraduallywithdrawingfromtheshadowcastbytheQueen’sstatueinthepark.AstheBritishpreparetoleavewemeetlessandlessattheparkandmoreoftenatthewrestler’srestaurant.

AdiandIclimbthericketywoodenstepsbehindAyahandpickourwaybetweentheemptytablestoourcrowd.Itisstillabitearlyfortheregulardiners.Ourfriendsaresittingattheback,oneithersideoftwonarrowtablesjoinedtogether.Theyarearguing.Everybodyappearstobequarrellingthesedays.

ThewrestlershoutstoChotay,askinnytwelve-year-oldinaskimpylungi,toplacewoodenstoolsateitherendofthetables.AdiandIsitonthestools,attheheadandtailofthetable,andAyahsitsdownnexttoMasseuronthebenchoppositethebutcher.

Chotayhangsaround,waitingforourorder,andAyah,withprincesslyauthorityandindulgence,ordersthreeplatesofvegetablebiryani.‘Seethatit’shot,’shesays,adoptingMother’stonewithservants,‘orI’llseetoyou!’

LikeallurchinsapprenticedtosuchestablishmentsChotayisbullied,teasedandslappedaround.

Continuingtheconversation–andthefeeding–ourarrivalhasinterrupted,Masseursays:‘IfthePunjabisdivided,LahoreisboundtogotoPakistan.ThereisaMuslimmajorityhere…’

‘LahorewillstayinIndia!’saystheGovernmentHousegardener,cuttinghimshort.Heissittingnexttothebutcher.‘ThereistoomuchHindumoneyhere,’hesaysinhisquiet,seasonedway.‘Theyownmostofthepropertyandbusinessinthecityand…’

‘ButtherearetoomanyMussulmans!’insistsMasseur.

‘Sowhat?Peopledon’tmatter…Moneydoes!’

Welookhisway,startledbytheunexpectedcynicism,ashetucksagobofriceintohismouth.

‘Itwon’tbehardtoputthefearofGoduptherichHindus’dhoties–moneyornomoney,’saysthebutcherinacoarse,harshvoice.

‘Itjustmightbetheotherwayround,’murmursthegardener.

Inthetensesilencethatfollowsthisexchange,onlyAdiandIlookatthem.Therestaverttheireyesandappeartobepreoccupiedwiththeirfood.

Chotayappearswithourplates,holdingallthreeinonehand,andplacesthembeforeuswithanoisyclatter.

Thebutcherrapshisplateonthetabletoindicatehewantsanotherhelping.Theboypicksuptheemptyplateandthebutcher,turningsharply,slapshisshavenhead.Itisatemptingtarget.

‘Oye!Yougonestupid?’saysthebutcherbelligerently.‘D’youknowwhatIwant?’

‘Thesame?’Chotaysays,wincing.Hisbared,narrowchestmakeshimlookfrighteninglyvulnerable.

Thebutcherspankshisheadagain.‘DidIaskforthesame?’

Chotaystaresathimfoolishly.

‘Bringmechops!’saysButcherasifhe’sjusttaughtChotayaninvaluablelesson.

‘Youheardhim,oye!’saysthewrestler,alsolightlyspankingtheboy’shead.‘What’reyoustaringatourfacesfor?Hurry,orI’llbreakyourbottom!’Heexchangesaconcurringglancewiththebutcher,showinghisappreciationofthepainshisfriendhastakentosmartenuptheboy.

Chotay,duckingoutofrangeoftheirhands,scampersaway,dutifullysaying,‘Berightback,janab!’

‘Whatd’youmean,putthefearofGoduptherichHindus’dhoties?’saysIce-candy-man,turninghissus-piciouslyinnocent,olive-oileyesonthebutcher.

‘YouknowwhatImean,yaar,’saysthebutcherimpassively.

Iclosemyeyes.Ican’tbeartoopenthem:theywillopenonasuddenlychangedworld.Itrytoshutoutthevoices.

AllatoncetheSikhzooattendantshouts,‘Andwhataboutus?’soloudlythatmyeyespopopen.‘TheSikhsholdmorefarmlandinthePunjabthantheHindusandMuslimsputtogether!’

‘Theydon’t!’saysthebutcherflatly.

‘Areyoucallingmealiar?’SherSingh’svoicecrackswithexcitementandhisagitatedfingersdispersebitsofriceinhisbeard.

‘Theonlywaytokeepyourholdings,Sardarjee,istoarriveatasettlementwiththeMuslimLeague,’intervenesMasseur,smoothingthequarrelwithhisvoice.HeduststhericefromSherSingh’sbeard.‘Ifyoudon’t,thePunjabwillbedivided…Thatwillmeantroubleforusall.’

‘Bigtrouble,’concursSherSinghportentously:asifhehassecretknowledgehecoulddisclose.

‘You’rewhat?Onlyfourmillionorso?’asksMasseur.‘AndifhalfofyouareinPakistan,andtheotherhalfinIndia,youwon’thavemuchcloutineitherplace.’

‘Youdon’tworryaboutourclout!’saysSherSinghoffensively.‘Wecanlookoutforourselves…You’llfeelourcloutallrightwhenthetimecomes!’

‘TheBritishhaveadvisedJinnahtokeepclearofyoubastards!’saysthebutcherjustasoffensively.‘TheAngrezcallyoua“bloodynuisance”!’

‘Wedon’twanttohaveanythingtodowithyoubastardseither,’roarsthepunySikh,soundingmoreandmorelikethetigerinhisname.

‘Historywillrepeatitself,’saystherestaurant-owningwrestlerphlegmatically.Heslowlylowershisarm,andstretchesitacrossthetable.‘OncethelineofdivisionisdrawninthePunjab,allMuslimstotheeastofitwillhavetheirballscutoff!’

Hisquietlyspokenwordshavetheimpactofanexplosion.And,asintheaftermathofablast,thesilenceexcludesallextraneoussound…Theshrillvoicesofthechildreninthegully,thenoiseoftrafficfromtheChungi.OnlyIce-candy-man’svoiceasiffromadistance,saying:‘Oye!Yougonecrazy?youson-of-an-owl!’

Andthewrestler,quietlysaying,‘Mycousin’saconstableinAmritsarDistrict…hesaystheSikhsarepreparingtodrivetheMuslimsoutofEastPunjab–totheothersideoftheRavi.’

‘ButthoseareMuslimmajoritydistricts,’saysMasseur.

‘TheSikhsarethefightingarmoftheHindusandthey’repreparedtouseit…likewhentheybutcheredeverysingleMussulmanfromAmbalatoAmritsaracenturyago,duringtheMogulempire’sbreakup.’

‘Behold!ThesavagearmofthemurderousSikh!’saysMasseur,holdingaloftanddanglingSherSingh’spunyarm;hisfingertipsshoweringcurriedrice.MasseurplaceshisarmaroundtheSikhandhugshimaffectionately.

‘It’sfitonlyforbanglesnow!’saysthebutchercontemptuously.Hetossesthegnawedskeletonofalambchopoverhisshoulder.‘TheSikhshavebecomesoftlivingoffthefatoftheland!’

‘Don’tfoolyourself…Theyhaveatraditionofviolence,’saysthewrestler.‘Haven’tyouseentheportraitsofthegurusholdingthedrippingheadsofbutcheredenemies?’

‘Shutup,yaar,’saysMasseur,hisfaceunusuallydarkwitharushofblood.‘It’sallbuckwas!TheholyKoranliesnexttotheGranthSahibintheGoldenTemple.TheshiftGuruNanaikworecarriedinscriptionsfromtheKoran…Infact,theSikhfaithcameabouttocreateHindu-Muslimharmony!’Helooksaroundthetabletoseehowwearetakinghisimpassionedpleaforreason.‘Inanycase,’hecontinuesmoremildly,‘therearenodifferencesamongfriends…Wewillstandbyeachother.’

‘Ofcourse,yaar,’agreestheoff-dutysepoy.(Ican’ttellwhatfaithhebelongsto.)‘Whoarewetoquarrel?Letthebigshotsfightitout!’

‘You’reright,brother,’saystheGovernmentHousegardener.‘Thepoliticianswillsayanythingintimeslikethesetosuittheirpurpose…ButtheEnglishSarkarwon’tletanythinglikethathappen…YousawhowtheyclampeddownontheIndependencemovement.’

Thereisaninstanthumofagreementanddisagreement.

‘TheEnglisharenottobereliedon,yaar,’interposesIce-candy-man,pushinghisemptyplateawaytoshowhe’sdonewitheating.‘They’retoobusypackingoffwiththeirloottocarewhathappens…ButthatNehru,he’saslyone…He’sgotMountbatteneatingoutofhisonehandandtheEnglish’swifeoutofhisotherwhat-not…He’stheonetowatch!’

Heshouldknow.He’sworkingintheGovernmentHouseasachaprassithesedays.Andgivenhisinquisitivenatureandwilyways–

‘Don’tunderestimateJinnah,’saystheoff-dutysepoy.‘Hewillstickwithinhisrights,nomatterwhomNehrufeeds!He’safirst-ratelawyerandheknowshowtoattacktheBritishwiththeirownlaws!’

‘JinnahornoJinnah!SikhornoSikh!Rightlaw,wronglaw,Nehruwillwalkoffwiththelion’sshare…Andwhat’smore,comeoutofitsmellingliketheQueen-of-the-Kotha!’Ice-candy-manspeakswithanassurancethatisprophetic.

Theygoonandon.Idon’twanttohearthem.IslipintoAyah’slapand,closingmyeyes,hidemyfacebetweenherbreasts.Itrynottoinhale,butImust;thechargedairaboutourtabledistilspoisonousinsights.Blueenvy:greenavidity:thegreyandblackstirringsofpredatorsandtheincipientdistillationoffearintheirprey.Aslimygrey-greenballoonformsbehindmyshutlids.ThereissomethingsodangerousaboutthetangiblecoloursthepassionsaroundmehaveassumedthatIblinkopenmyeyesandsitup.

Someinstinctmakesmecountus.Wearethirteen.

Iamnottooyoungtoknowitisanuneasynumber.Icountusagain,usingmyfingerslikeMotherdoes.ThereisIce-candy-man,Masseur,GovernmentHouseGardener,Butcher,SherSingh,thesepoyfromthebarracks,thewrestler,YousafandHariwho’vebeenlisteningquietly,theFalletisHotelcook,me,AdiandAyah.

***

‘Whyisthirteenanunluckynumber?’IaskMother.

‘Whotoldyouit’sunlucky?Therearenounluckynumbers,dear–onlyluckynumbers.’

IaskGodmother.

‘Peoplesayit’sunlucky–Idon’tknow.AskMini:sheshouldknow.’

‘It’sunlucky,’saysMiniAunty,promptlyanddefinitelyandnoddingherhead.‘Iknow.IwasbornonthethirteenthofMarch.’

IaskCousin.

‘SomethingtodowithJesusChrist…Hehadafarewellparty,youknow.Somethingtodowiththat.’

IaskMrsPen.ShetellsmethatthefarewellpartywascalledtheLastSupper.ShetellsmeaboutChrist,thetwelveapostlesandaboutJudas’sbetrayalandChrist’scrucifixion.

Fromthedistance,drawingstridentlynearer,clamoursthe‘tee-too,tee-too’ofthedreadsiren.Thesoundshrivelstime–thewayHari’sgenitalsshrivelled.Iambackinthefactoryfilledwithchildrenlyingontheirbacksonbeds.Godmothersitsbyme,lookingcomposed,ascompetentsoldiersmoveabouthammeringnailsintoourhandsandfeet.Theroomfillswiththehopelessmoansofcrucifiedchildren–andwiththeircollectivesighsastheybreatheinandout,inandout,withaneeriehorrifyinginsistence.

Iawakentoadistant,pulsatingsound.Thechantofsloganscarriedtomeongustsofwind.

Chapter16

Weleaveearly.MasterTaraSinghisexpectedtomakeanappearanceoutsidetheAssemblyChambers,behindtheQueen’sGarden.ExceptforMucchoandherchildren,whoremainbehindintheservants’quarters,ourhouseisdeserted.MotherandFatherleftbeforeuswiththeSinghsandthePhailbuses.

ThereisnoroomforusintheQueen’sGarden.SeenfromtheroofoftheFalettisHotel–theFalettisHotelcookhassecuredaplaceforus–itappearsthattheparkhassproutedadensecropofhumans.Theyoverflowitsboundariesontotheroadsandsitontreesandontopofwalls.ThecrowdisthickestonthecencretebetweenthebackofthegardenandtheAssemblyChambers.Policemenareholdingthethrongfromsurgingupthewide,imperiousflightofpinksteps.

Thereisastirofexcitement,anincreaseinthevolumeofnoise,andMasterTaraSingh,inawhitekurta,hissilkenbeardflowingcreamilydownhisface,appearsonthetopstepsoftheAssemblyChambers.Iseehimclearly.Hischestisdiagonallyswathedinabluebandfromwhichdanglesadecorativelysheathedkirpan.Thefoldsofhisloosewhitepyjamasfallabovehisankles;aleatherbandroundhiswaistholdsalongreligiousdagger.

Hegetsdowntobusinessrightaway.Holdingalongswordineachhand,thecurvedsteelreflectingthesun’sglareasheclashestheswordsabovehishead,theSikhsoldier-saintshouts:‘WewillseehowtheMuslimswinegetPakistan!Wewillfighttothelastman!WewillshowthemwhowillleaveLahore!RajkaregaKhalsa,akirahinakoi!’

TheSikhsmillingaboutinahugeblobinfrontwildlywaveandclashtheirswords,kirpansandhockey-sticks,andpunctuatehisshriekswithroars:‘PakistanMurdabad!DeathtoPakistan!SatSiriAkaal!Bolaysenihaal!’

AndtheMuslimsshouting:‘So?We’llplayHoli-with-their-blood!Ho-o-o-liwiththeirblo-o-o-d!’

AndtheHolifestivaloftheHindusandSikhscomingupinafewdays,wheneverybodysplatterseverybodywithcolouredwaterandcolouredpowdersandlaughsandromps…

Andinsteadtheskylineoftheoldwalledcityablaze,andpeoplesplatteringeachotherwithblood!AndIce-candy-manhustlingAyahandmeupthestepsofhistenementin

BhattiGate,saying:‘WaittillyouseeShalmiburn!’Andpointingoutlandmarksfromthecrowdedtenementroof:

‘That’sDelhiGate…There’sLahoriGate…There’sMochiDarwaza…’

‘Isn’tthatwhereMasseurlives?’Ayahasks.

‘Yes,that’swhereyourmasseurstays,’saysIce-candy-man,unabletomaskhisire.‘It’saMuslimmohalla,’hecontinuesinanefforttodispelhisrancour.‘We’vegotwindthattheHindusofShalmiplantoattackit–pushtheMuslimsacrosstheriver.TheHindusandSikhsthinkthey’lltakeLahore.Butwe’llsurprisethemyet!’

‘HaiRam!That’sGowalmandiisn’tit?’saysAyah.‘HaiRam…Howitburns!’

Andoureyeswideandsombre.

SuddenlyaposseofsweatingEnglishtommies,wearingonlykhakishorts,socksandboots,runsupinthelanedirectlybelowus.AndontheirheelsamobofSikhs,theirwildlonghairandbeardsrampant,largefeveredeyesglowinginfanaticfaces,poursintothenarrowlaneroaringslogans,holdingcurvedswords,shovingupamanicwaveofviolencethatsetsAyahtotremblingassheholdsmetight.Anakedchild,twitchingonaspearstruckbetweenhershoulders,iswavedlikeaflag:herscreamlessmouthagapesheisstaringstraightupatme.Acrimsonfuryblindsme.Iwanttodiveintothebestialcreatureclawingentrails,pluckingeyes,tearinglimbs,gouginghearts,smashingbrains:butthecreaturehastoomanystonyhearts,toomanysightlesseyes,deafears,mindlessbrainsandtonsofentwinedentrails…

AndthenaslowlyadvancingmobofMuslimgoondas:packedsotightthatwecanseeonlythetopoftheirheads.Roaring:‘Allah-o-Akbar!YaaaaAli’and‘PakistanZindabad!’

Theterrorthemobgeneratesispalpable–likeanevil,paralysingspell.Theterribleprocession,likeasluggishriver,flowsbeneathus.Everyshortwhileagroupofmen,likeawhirlingeddy,stalls–andlikethewideningcirclesofatreacherouseddydissolvinginthemainstream,leavesinitscentrethepulpyredflotsamofamangledbody.

Theprocessionistsaremillingabouttwojeepspushedbacktoback.Theycometoahalt:themeninfrontoftheprocessionpullingaheadandthemobbehindbankedcloseup.Thereisaquickeningintheactivityaboutthejeeps.MyeyesfocusonanemaciatedBanyawearingawhiteGandhicap.Themanisknockeddown.Hislipsaredrawnawayfromrotting,paan-stainedteethinascream.ThemenmovebackandinthesmallclearingIseehislegsstickingoutofhisdhotirightuptothegroin–eachthin,brownlegtiedtoajeep.Ayah,holdingherhandsovermyeyes,collapsesonthefloorpullingmedownwithher.Thereistheroarofahundredthroats:‘Allah-o-Akbar!’andbeneathitthegrowlofrevvingmotors.Ice-candy-manstoopsoverus,lookingconcerned:themusclesinhisfacetightwithastrangeexhilarationIneveragainwanttosee.

RamzanathebutcherandMasseurjoinus.Ayahsitssheathingherheadandformwithhersari;coweringandlumpishagainstthewall.

‘Youshouldn’thavebroughtthemhere,yaar,’saysMasseur.‘Theyshouldn’tseesuchthings…Besides,it’sdangerous.’

‘Wearewithher.She’ssafe,’saysIce-candy-manlaconi-cally.Headds:‘Ionlywantedhertoseethefires.’

‘Iwanttogohome,’Iwhimper.

‘AssoonasthingsquietdownI’lltakeyouhome,’saysMasseurreassuringly.HepicksmeupandswingsmeuntilIsmile.

Ice-candy-manoffersmeanotherpopsicle.I’veeatensomanyalreadythatIfeelsick.Hegatherstheemptytinplatesstrewnaboutus.TheuneatenchapattionAyah’splateisstiff:thevegetablecurrycold.Ice-candy-manremovestheplate.

‘Look!’shoutsthebutcher.‘Shalmi’sstartedtoburn!’

Werushtotheparapet.Tonguesofpinkflamelicktwoorthreebrickbuildingsinthebazaar.Theflamesarehardtospot:nomatchforthemassivegrowthofbrickandcementspreadingoneithersideofthestreet.

‘Justwatch.You’llseeatamasha!’saysIce-candy-man.‘Waittillthefiregetstotheirstockofarsenal.’

Asifoncueadeafeningseriesofexplosionsshakesthefloorbeneathourfeet.Ayahstandsuphastilyandjoinsusattheparapet.Thewallsandbalconiesofatwo-storeybuildinginthecentreofthebazaarbulgeandbulge.Thenthebricksstartslowlytumbling,andthedarkslabofroofcavesintotheexplodingfurnace…

PeoplearepouringintotheShalmilanesfromtheirhousesandshops.Weheartheincrediblypromptclam-ourofafirebrigade.Theclankingfireengine,crowdedwithladders,hoseandhelmetedmen,manoeuvresitselfthroughthestreet,thetruckwiththewatertankfollowing.

Themenexchangesurprisedlooks.Ice-candy-mansays:‘Wheredidthosemother-fuckersspringfrom?’

Thefiremenscamperbusily,attachinghoses,shovingpeopleback.Ridingonthetruckstheyexpertlydirecttheirpowerfulhosesattherestofthebuildingsoneithersideoftheroad.

Asthefirebrigadedrivesaway,theentirerowsofbuildingsonbothsidesofthestreetigniteinanincredibleconflagration.Althoughweareseveralfurlongsawayascorchingblastfromahotwindmakesourclothesflapasifinastorm.IlookatIce-candy-man.Theastonishmentonhisfeaturesisreplacedbyahugegrin.Hisface,reflectingthefire,islit

up.‘Thefuckingbastards!’hesays,laughingaloud,spitflyingfromhismouth.‘Thefuckingbastards!Theysprayedthebuildingswithpetrol!TheymustbeMuslim.’

TheHindusofShalmimusthavepiledalotofdynamiteintheirhousesandshopstodrivetheMuslimsfromMochiGate.TheentireShalmi,anareacoveringaboutfoursquaremiles,flashesinexplosions.Themenandwomenonourroofareslappingeachother’shands,laughing,huggingoneanother.

Istareatthetamasha,mesmerisedbythespectacle.Itislikeagiganticfireworksdisplayinwhichstifffigureslookinglikespread-eagledstick-dollsleapintotheair,blackagainstthemagentafurnace.TrappedbythespreadingflamesthepanickedHindusrushindrovesfromoneendofthestreettotheother.Manydisappeardownthesmokinglanes.Somecollapseinthestreet.Charredlimbsandburntlogsarefallingfromthesky.

Thewholeworldisburning.TheaironmyfaceissohotIthinkmyfleshandclotheswillcatchfire.Istartscreaming:hystericallysobbing.Ayahmovesaway,herfeetsuddenlyheavyanddragging,andsitsontheroofslumpedagainstthewall.Sheburiesherfaceinherknees.

‘Whatsmallheartsyouhave,’saysIce-candy-man,beamingaffectionatelyatus.‘Youmustmakeyourheartsstout!’Hestrikeshisout-thrustchestwithhisfist.Turningtothemen,hesays:‘Thefuckingbastards!Theythoughtthey’ddriveusoutofBhatti!We’veshownthem!’

Itisnotsafetoleaveuntillatethatevening.AsthebutcherdrivesushomeinhiscartthemoonlightsettleslikealayerofashesoverLahore.

***

InarushIcollectthedollslongabandonedinbottomdrawersandtoychestandclimbstoolstoretrievethemfromthedustytopsofoldcupboards.Ilinethemupagainstthewall,onmybed,andAdi,intriguedbymysuddeninterestindolls,standsbyquietlywatching.

Ican’trememberatimewhenIeverplayedwithdolls:thoughrelativesandacquaintanceshavepersistedingivingthemtome.China,clothandcelluloiddollsvariouslystuffed,sized,andcoloured.Blackgolliwogs,Britishbabydollswithpinkcomplexions,Indianadultdollscoveredinwhitecloth,theirfacespaintedon.

Ipickoutabig,bloatedcelluloiddoll.Iturnitupsidedownandpullitslegsapart.Theelasticthatholdsthemtogetherstretcheseasily.Iletoneleggoanditsnapsback,attachingitselftothebrittletorso.

Adimovescloser.‘What’reyoutryingtodo?’heenquires.

Iexaminethesari-anddhoti-cladIndiandolls.Theyareunreal,theirexaggeratedfacestooobviouslypainted,theirbodiestoofragile.Iselectalargelife-likedollwithachina

faceandblinkingblueeyesandcoarseblackcurls.Ithasasturdy,well-stuffedclothbodyandasubstantialfeel.

Iholditupsidedownandpullitspinklegsapart.Thekneesandthighsbendunnaturally,butthestitchinginthecentrestaysintact.

IholdonelegouttoAdi.‘Here,’Isay,‘pullit.’

‘Why?’asksAdilookingconfused.

‘Pull,damnit!’Iscream,soclosetohysteriathatAdiblanchesandhastilygrabstheprofferedleg.(HeisoneofthefewpeopleIknowwhoisfairenoughtoblanch–orblushnoticeably.)AdiandIpullthedoll’slegs,stretchingitinafiercetug-of-war,untilmakingawrenchingsounditsuddenlysplits.Westaggeroffbalance.Theclothskinisrippedrightuptoitsarmpitsspillingchunksofgreyishcottonandcoiledbrowncoirandtheinnardsthatmakeitseyesblinkandmakeitsquawk‘Ma-ma’.Iexaminethedoll’sspilledinsidesand,holdingtheminmyhands,collapseonthebedsobbing.

Adicrouchesclosetome.Ican’tbearthedisillusionedandcontemptuouslookinhiseyes.

‘Whywereyousocruelifyoucouldn’tstandit?’heasksatlast,infuriatedbythepointlessbrutality.

***

HowlongdoesLahoreburn?Weeks?Months?

WeclimbtotheroofoftheDaulatrams’two-storeyhousetowatch.TheDaulatramsflee.

TheShankars,too,go.Thebackportionofourhouseisuntenanted.TheShankars’abandonedbelongingsarestoredbyMotherinemptyservants’quarters.Gita,withhershortfatplaitandsatinbows,andhersteamy,bellowingmate,havedisappeared.

StillwegototheDaulatrams’abandonedhousetoseeMozangChawkburn.HowlongdoesMozangChawkburn…?

MozangChawkburnsformonths…

andmonths…Despiteitsbrickandmortarconstruction:despiteitssteelgirdersandthedensityofitsterracesthatruninanunevenhigh-low,broad-narrowcontinuityformilesoneitherside:despitethesmallbathroomsandgodownsandcorrugatedtinsheltersforcharpoysdeployedtosleepontheroof–anditsdoorsandwoodenrafters–thebuildingscouldnothaveburnedformonths.Despitetheresidueofpassionandregret,andlossofthosewhohaveinpanicfled–thefirecouldnothaveburnedfor…Despitealltheruptureddreams,brokenlives,buriedgold,bricked-inrupees,secretedjewellery,lingeringhopes…thefirecouldnothaveburnedformonthsandmonths…

Butinmymemoryitisbrandedoveraninordinatelengthoftime:memorydemandspoeticlicence.

AndthehellishfiresofLahorespawnmonstrousmobs.ThesenomoreresemblethelittleprocessionsofchantingurchinsthatWarrisRoadspawned–andthatAdiandIshoutedourselveshoarsein–thanthefiresthatfusesteelgirderstomortarresemblethefiresthatImamDinfansaliveinourkitchengrateseverymorning.

Chapter17

PlayingBritishgodsundertheceilingfansoftheFalettisHotel–behindQueenVictoria’sgardenedskirt–theRadcliffCommissiondealsoutIndiancitieslikeapackofcards.LahoreisdealttoPakistan,AmritsartoIndia.SialkottoPakistan.PathankottoIndia.

IamPakistani.Inasnap.Justlikethat.

Anewnationisborn.Indiahasbeendividedafterall.Didtneydigthelong,longcanalAyahmentioned?Althoughitismybirthdaynoonehastimeforme.MyquestionsremainedunansweredevenbyAyah.

Mothermakesadisappointinglittlefussovermethatlastsforaboutthreeminutes.ShewishesmehappybirthdayandkissesmeandinstructsImamDintomakesweetvermicelliwithfriedcurrantsandalmondsandhandsAyahacupofmilkafloatwithrosepetalstopourovermyheadbeforemybath.

Fatherhugsme,askshowoldIam.ItellhimI’meight.(Yes,timehasflownforward.Itwillflybackyet.)

‘Good,good,’saysFatherabsent-mindedly.Hedoesn’tevensay,‘You’reabiggirlnow,’ashedidlastyear.Ihangaroundhimfeelingbored,whilehesitsonthecommodeabsorbedinnewsprint.

Igotothekitchenandannouncemybirthday.‘Sowhat?’saysAdi,resuminghisunseemlyclamourforthesugarbowl.ImamDinandYousafsay:‘Hownice.Hownice.Greetings,Lennybaby.’Buttheyarepreoccupied.Ayahhaulsmeoffforabath.Ihavetoremindhertodousemewiththemilk-and-rose-petals.

It’sthesameatGodmother’s.Igethuggedandkissed,butinsufficiently.Godmotherisbusyinthekitchen.Shemovestoandfro,lookinglikeanupendedwhaleinherwhitesariwithherslopingshouldersandbroadeningtorsoandthesarinarrowingroundherankles.Shehasthesamenoblebearingandalert,accommodatingairofthatintelligentmammal.Asshemovestoandfro,GodmotherdirectsanonstopstreamofinstructionandcriticismatSlavesister.Justso’stokeepheronhertoesandinfairworkingorder.Besides,Godmotherisinahurry.Lefttoherownassessmentofprioritiesandspeed,Slavesistercanbogdowntoastop.

‘Haveyousoakedthericeyet?’Godmotherenquires.‘Afteryou’vesoakeditIwantyoutokneadthechapattidough.AndItoldyoutotightenthecotstringsyesterday…Did

you?Wellthen,youmayhavethepleasureofsleepingonittonight!GiveyourstoManek!Willyouhurryup?Halftheday’sgone,’saysGodmother,brisklyputtingSlavesisterthroughherpaces.‘Ifyoudon’tpickupyourfeetyou’llcutoffmynose!Manekwillbeatourdooranyminute!Ihatetothinkwhathe’lltellPilooaboutthedisorderinthishouse…AndIhaven’tevenstartedpreparingthehalvaforhim.’

DrManekModyismarriedtotheirmiddlesister,Piloo.Despitetheloud-speakerinhisthroat,heiseasy-goingandgenialandhardlythetypetotattletohiswifeaboutadisorderlyhouse.

Iamhurt.Ithoughtthepreparationsforthesweetatleastwereonmyaccount.Isayso.‘Aren’tyoumakingthehalvaformybirthday?’

‘Ofcourse,’saysGodmotherpre-emptorily.‘It’sforyou.Whoelse?’

‘Ofcourse,’saysSlavesister.Evertheopportunist,sheadds,‘Butwemustn’tbeselfish,mustwe?It’sforyou,andtosweetenManekUncle’smouthinwelcomeand,don’tforget,wehavetocelebratethenewarrivalyet!’

GodmotherandIlookatherblankly.‘SomebodyhasababyIdon’tknowof?’asksGodmothersuspiciously.

‘Haveyouforgottenalready?’saysSlavesisterwithreproof.‘We’veallproducedababy…We’vegivenbirthtoanewnation.Pakistan!’

‘Youaresilly,’saysGodmothercrossly.Butwithoutthedevastatingartilleryfiresuchanabsurdwayofputtingthingsmightbeexpectedtoprovoke.

GodmotherisaheadtallerthanSlavesister.Standingontiptoeshereachesforthesemolina.‘Whereistherose-water?’sheasks,peeringintothetopshelf.‘Andwhereisthesugar?Can’tanythingeverbeinplace?’

‘Everythingisinplace…Ifyou’donlybothertolook,Rodabai.’

‘Isthatso?Thesugarandtherose-waterjumpedlastnight?And,now,where’sthetea?Where’sthetea?’

‘Underyournose.Rightunderyournose.Ifyou’donlylookproperly!’saystheworm,turning!

Godmotherlocatestheboxoftealiterallyunderhernose.Shedoesn’tsayanything.Ican’tbelieveit.

Iamsoastonishedmyjawhangsopen(eversince,I’vehadtroublewithmymandibular).Hung-jawedIgotoOldhusband,andstandingbeforehiminadaze,say,‘It’smybirthday.’

Oldhusbandemergesfromhishabituallysour-facedstuporandkissesmyforehead.LikeasomnambulistIreceivefromhimasmallpacketwrappedintissuepaper.

Iopenthepacket.Itisanautographbookwithcolouredpages,anditfallsopenonayellowpagewithwritingonit.IlookatOldhusband.Hetakesthebookfrommyhandandreadsaloudinresoundingtones:

‘TomydearLenny,

“Thelivesofgreatmenallremindus

Howtomakeourlivessublime;

Anddepartingleavebehindus

Footstepsonthesandsoftime!”’

Hemusthavebeenquitesomethingwhenyoung!Iamunutterablyimpressed!I’veneverseenhimsoanimated.

‘Willyouleaveyourfootstepsonthesandsoftime?’heasks.

Iimagineaseriesoffootsteps,obscuredbylitter,onthegreysandbythemuddyRavi.Ayah’s,Masseur’sandmine.Inodgravely,awedandovercomebythethunderofthewords.

TheonlyonewhoproperlycountenancesmybirthdayisCousin.

WhenAyahtakesmeandAdiacrosstheroadfromGodmother’stoElectric-aunt’shecomesgallopingtothegateshouting,‘Happybirthday!Happybirthday!’Andthen,veryseriously,likeinfilms,hecautiouslyholdsmebymyshouldersandpuckershismouth.Ireadtheintentinhiseyesand,beingtheatricallyinclinedmyself,Iclosemyeyesandreadilybunchmylips.IfeelCousin’swet,puckeredmouthonmybunched-uplips.IknowI’msupposedtofeelathrill,so,Imusterupalittlethrill.

ThethrillcomesandgoesbutCousin’smouthremainsinexactlythesameposition,exertingexactlythesamepressureasatthemomentofimpact.Themusclesofmymouthbegintoache.Iopenmyeyes:anddiscoverCousin’sbewilderedeyesgazingdirectlyintomine.Hedoesn’tknowifheisdoingitright.Orwhentostop.Thekissingscenesinthefilmsgoonmuchlonger.ButIcantellatthatalarmingproximitythatthemusclesinCousin’sjawsaretrembling.Myneck,too,isbeginningtoacheatthatawkwardangle.Kissing,I’mconvinced,isoverrated.TrustCousintoenlightenme.Whenourmutualagonybecomesunbearable,AyahsuddenlyslapsCousinhardonhisback,therebyungluingourstalemate,andscolds:‘Oye!Whatisthisbadmashi?Shameonyou!’

Cousintottersoffbalanceandlookssheepish.AndbecomesdefensivewhenAyahcasuallyspankshimagain.IthinksheisrepayingmeformindingIce-candy-man’stoes.

Electric-auntappearsonherverandaandholdinghandswegallopuptoher,trailedunenthusiasticallybyAdiandgood-naturedlybyAyah.

‘What?Noparty?’saysElectric-aunt,raisingherscantyeyebrowsandrubbingitin.Shebaresawhiterowoftinyteeth,asneatlypackedandevenasagoat’s,inabrightsmile.

Cousinlooksatmepityingly:‘We’llhaveonerighthere!’hevolunteersgallantly.

WhileAyahmakeshard-boiled-eggsandwichesCousintearsElectric-aunt’scookawayfromtheradio.Theytakeoffontheircyclestobuyacakeandpotatochips.Electric-aunt,compensatingforherlackofcharmwithanabundanceofenergyandthrift,brisklyopensalockedcupboardinherstoreandremovespapernapkins,plates,partyhatsandstreamersthathavealreadyservedCousin’sbirthdaysontwooccasions.Shecountsouteightlittlecandlesfromaneconomy-sizedboxoffifty.

Cousinreturnswithbrownpaperbagsandadentedcardboardcakebox.Iblowoutthecandlesandcutthesquashedcake.AndthenwesitaroundtheradiolisteningtothecelebrationsofthenewNation.Jinnah’svoice,inauguratingtheConstituentAssemblysessionson11August,says:‘Youarefree.Youarefreetogotoyourtemples.YouarefreetogotoyourmosquesoranyotherplaceofworshipintheStateofPakistan.Youmaybelongtoanyreligionorcasteorcreed,thathasnothingtodowiththebusinessofState…etc.,etc.,etc.PakistanZindabad!’

Chapter18

MrSingh,longhairknottedontopofhishead,onlonghairylegs,inhisyellowpyjama-shortsandwearinghiskirpan-dagger,carryingahockey-stickandtrailedbyhismodestAmericanwifeandtwosweatyandsubduedchildren,comesupourdrivejustasthehugeredsunrestsonthetopofthehouseoppositeours.

Thefamilysettlesinwickerchairsontheverandabeneaththeslowlysqueakingceilingfan.Mother,heryoungfacegraveandcomposedbehindhertintedglasses,greetsthemwithastylishhandshake–whichMrSinghstandsuptoreceive.Mother’stouchignitesmen.MrSingh’sbeardglowsandhisforeheadturnsincandescent.

MrSinghisobviouslyuncomfortableperchedonthedaintywickerchair.Hewouldprefertositcross-leggedbutmanagestokeepbothdusty,slipperedfeetfirmlyonthefloor.IsignaltoRosy-Petertocomeinsidebuttheyshaketheirheadsandsitlistlesslyontheirchairs.

‘TheMehtashavegone!TheMalothrashavegone!TheGuptashavegone!’saysMrSingh,comingstraightoutwithwhatisuppermostinhismind.Heisnotamanforpreliminaryniceties.

‘TheGuptastoo?When?’asksMother,hervoicethrobbingwithconcern.

‘Abouttwohoursback.Theyarejoininganescortedconvoyofcars.’

Mother’seyesgrowmoist.MrsSinghdiscreetlywipesthetearsthathaverolledintotherecentlyacquiredindigosmudgesbeneathhereyes.Rosygetsupand,exposingherdampcottonknickers,whichlookabsurdonhereight-year-oldbottom,scramblesontohermother’slap.MrsSinghsmoothsherdaughter’shair.

MrSinghclearshisthroat.‘Idon’tthinkthereareanyHindufamiliesleftonWarrisRoad,’hesays.

‘Therearen’t,’Motheragrees.

‘JusttwoSikhfamilies.ThePritamSinghsandus.’

Wehearacyclerattleupthedriveandthecontinuouspealofacycle-bellasFatherpedalsslowlyandlaboriouslyintotheportico.Smilingandnoddingatourvisitors,heparksthecycleonitsstandnexttotheMorrisandlocksit.Fatherhasrevertedtogoingtoworkonhiscycle,leavingtheMorrisforMother.

MrSingh,noticeablyrelievedbyFather’spresence,shakeshandsaffablyandFather,tuckinghisshirtintohisflaringknee-lengthkhakishorts,sitsdownwithaquestioningcountenance.

Alertedbythecycle-bellYousafbringsFatherafrostedglassofwateronatrayandtakesawayhiskhakisolartopi.ThereissilenceasFathertipshisheadanddrainstheglass.Hepushesbackashortfringeofcurlsplasteredtohisforeheadandremovinghisspectacleswipestheperspirationfromthedeepindentationsoneithersideofhisnose.

Gurdaspur’sgonetoIndia,’heremarks,settlingintohischairandcleaninghisglasseswithadamphandkerchief.

‘Yes!That’sasurprise,’saysMrsSinghunexpectedly.Thefactshehasspokenoutherthoughtsindicatesthemeasureofherinnerturmoil.‘IheartheyhadhoistedthegreenPakistaniflagandall.There’sboundtobetrouble,’shesays,makingwhatisforheraremarkablypertinentstatement.

Fathernodssignificantly.HesnapshisfingerstosummonYousaf,andturninghisthumbdownmutelyindicateshiswishformorewater.

NowthatFatherishereMrSinghspreadshisthighscomfortablyand,placinghishandsonhisknees,leansforward:‘SethiSahib,wehavejustreceivedordersfromourleaders…WearetoleaveLahoreforever!’

Fatherraisessurprised,questioningeyebrowsandMrSinghcontinues:‘I’mmeetingthemtonight.They’veworkedoutplansforacompleteSikhevacuation.We’llformourownarmedescort.I’lltakeourbuffaloes…Andwhateveressentialswecanpileintoatruck.Eachfamilyisallottedatruck.’

Father’ssharpeyesgrowseverelycomprehendingandsympathetic.Hefrownsandclearshisthroat.‘Isthereanythingwecando?’

‘Canyoustoreafewthingsforus?Furnitureandwhatwecan’ttake?’saysMrSingh.‘Youknow,housesarebeinglooted.Emptyonesespecially.Theyhaven’tcometothebetterneighbourhoodsyet,butwhoknows?I’llcomebackforthemlater.Thingshavetosubside.’MrSinghspreadshishandsinaconfusedandhelplessgesture.

‘Sure,’Fathernods.

Asalwayseconomical,Fathermakesthesinglewordworkonbothcounts:thathewillbegladtostoreanythingforMrSingh;andthatthingsmustsubside.

‘Ofcourse!’saysMotherwarmly.‘Bringanything!We’llkeepitwiththeShankars’things.Youcanleaveitwithusforaslongasyouwant!’

MrSingh’sandFather’seyesglisteninthedusk.Thesunhasdisappeared.MrSinghhawksanddirectshisspitinalongarcintotheportico,nearsomeflowerpotswithferns.FatherdirectsacommiseratinggobofspittonestlenexttoMrSingh’s.

AsobescapesMrsSingh.Mother’smouthtwitchesandshesniffs.‘Goandplayoutside!Orinside!’shesayssternlytome,indicatingRosyandPeterwithherquiveringchin.Shegetsuptoswitchonthelights.

WegointothekitchentoImamDinforchapattieswithsugarandbutter.ImamDinsprinklesamoregeneroushelpingofsugarthanusual,andflappinghisarmsandcrowingpretendstobearoostertoamuseRosy-Peter.Theyareamused.

TheyfollowmetothebackofthehousewhereIgolookingforAyah.

***

Thingshavebecometopsy-turvy.We’vestoppedgoingtotheQueen’sGardenaltogether.We’vealsostoppedgoingtothewrestler’srestaurant.ThereisdissensionintheranksofAyah’sadmirers.Intwosandthrees,orsingly,theycomeinsteadtoourhouseandsitwithAyahonthepatchoflawnatthebackor,asonthiseveningwhenRosy-PeterandIjointhem,ontheShankars’neglectedveranda.Ayahcomesandgoes,asdutyorMothercalls,andthevisitorstalkamongthemselves.Butcherandtherestaurantwrestlerhaveceasedtovisit.

Tonight,illuminatedbythedustyyellowverandalight,wearegroupedaroundaradio.Masseuristhere.AlsoHari,SherSinghandtheGovernmentHousegardener.ImamDinandYousafarestillcateringtothedemandsofmyparentsandtheirvisitors.AdiisclingingtoAyah’sback,rockinghertoandfroandpullingstrandsofhairoutofherbun.Rosy,PeterandIsettledownonthebrickfloortolisten.Thebroadcastisfragmentedbystatic.

‘So!Gurdaspur’sgonetoIndiaafterall,’saysthezooattendant,shakinghisoutsize,turbanedhead.

‘Shush!’saystheGovernmentHousegardener,cuppinghishandbehindhishoaryeartolistenbetter.

Theradioannouncesthroughthecrackling:‘TherehavebeenreportsoftroubleinGurdaspur.Thesituationisreportedtobeundercontrol.’

‘WhichmeansthereisuncontrollablebutcheringgoingoninGurdaspur,’saysthegardenerflatly,reflectingthegeneralopinion.‘ItistheKali-yuga,nodoubtaboutit,’hesaystoacollectiveandresignedsighofassent.

Masseurturnstheradiooff.MotiandhisuntouchablewifeMucchohavesilentlyjoinedthegroup.Theysitontheverandasteps,justalittlebitapart.

‘Iftheworstcomestotheworst,youcangotoGurdaspur–ortoAmritsar,’saysMasseurtotheSikhyouth.

‘I’mnotgoinganywhere,’saysSherSingh,bristling.Buthesoundsmoreobstinatethandetermined.

‘Isaid,iftheworstcomestotheworst,’saysMasseurmildly.

‘Whoevermustgo,willgo,’saystheGovernmentHousegardener,leaningforwardlaboriouslytopickuphiscurly-toedslippers.Hetapsthemonthefloortoshakeoffthedriedmanureandpicksoffbitsofgrassadheringtothesides.

‘Aeeee!Yourascal!’groansAyah,tuggingherhairoutofAdi’sfistsandtumblinghimforwardonherlap.‘I’llteachyoutobehave,youbadmash!’ShegrinsandholdsAdistrugglinginthepowerfulviceofherthighs.Raisingherarmsshecalmlyplaitsherhair.

Westirandstretch,preparingtobreakupfortheevening.Andjustthen,inthemutedrustle,weheartherattleofabicyclehurtlingupourdriveatanalarmingspeed.Wegrowstill,expectant.Andemergingfromthenightlikeablunderingandscraggybird,scrapinghisshoeontheverandasteptochecktheheedlessvelocityofhisapproach–MotiandMucchoscrambleoutofhisway–Ice-candy-mancomestoanabruptandjoltedhalt.Heisbreathless,reekingofsweatanddust,andhisfranticeyesrakethegroup.TheyrestforaninstantontheSikh,andflutterbacktous.‘AtrainfromGurdaspurhasjustcomein,’heannounces,panting.‘Everyoneinitisdead.Butchered.TheyareallMuslim.Therearenoyoungwomenamongthedead!Onlytwogunny-bagsfullofwomen’sbreasts!’Ice-candy-man’sgriponthehandlebarsissotightthathisknucklesbulgewhitelyinthepalelight.Thekohllininghiseyeshasspreadforminghollow,skull-likeshadows:andasheraiseshisarmtowipetheperspirationcrawlingdownhisface,hisglanceonceagainflitsoverSherSingh.‘Iwasexpectingrelatives…Forthreedays…Fortwelvehourseachday…Iwaitedforthattrain!’

WhatI’veheardisunbearable.Idon’twanttobelieveit.ForagrislyinstantIseeMother’sdetachedbreasts:soft,pendulous,theirbeigenipplesspreading.IshakemyheadtofocusmydistractedattentiononIce-candy-man.Heappearstohavegrownshadesdarker,andhisfaceisalldriedupandshrivelled-looking.Icanseethatbeneathhisshockheisgrieving.

InstinctivelyIlookatthezooattendant.SherSinghisstaringatthepopsicleman.Hispupilsareblackanddis-tended.Hischeckedshirtisopenatthethroat:andhisnarrowpigeon-chestisgoingupanddown,upanddown,intheeerieverandalight.

***

Acrowdhasgatheredinthenarrowalleyinfrontofthetobacco-naswarshop.IfitisonethingIam,it’sinquisitive.IslipawayfromAyah,andslidingbetweenthethicketoflegseasemywayintothecentre.IseethePathan.SharbatKhanhasreturnedfromthemountains!

Ishout,‘Saalamailekum,KhanSahib!’Butbusypushingthepedalonhisscrapingandsparkingmachinehedoesn’thearme.Peopleareholdingouttohimtheirknives,choppers,daggers,axes,stavesandscythes.Andintheclamour,nosetothegrindstone,SharbatKhansharpensonebluntedgeaftertheother.

ThecrowdswellsasmoreandmorepeoplegettoknowthatSharbatKhanisback.Children,sentbytheirmothersandgrandmothers,runupwithanassortmentofkitchenknivesandmeat-cleaversandcirclethecrowdtryingtosqueezein.Somearegood-naturedlypickedupandpassedthrough,butforthemostpartthemenappearnervous–andsoanxioustogettheirownimplementssharpenedthattheythreatenandabusethechildren.Theymusthavealotofwoodtochop.Alotofmeattocut.Alotofgrasstomowwiththeirscythes.

IspotSherSingh.HeisstrugglingtowardsSharbatKhanwithatangledarmloadofdaggersandswords.Hehastobecarryingtheentirestockofhisfamily’sreligiousarsenal!Hehasatouchy,defensivelookthatIhavenoticedonhisfaceoflate.Itmakesmewanttobringhimintoourhouseandaskeverybodytobenicetohim.Ayahtooisverycarefulhowshetalkstohim.Hebristlesevenathermildlyflirtatiousteasing.ShehandleshimwiththecautionSherSinghlavishesonthenervouslittlelioncubsinthezoo.Hehastakenustoseethecubs.It’sallverywelltoseethemrompandmew,butwithinayeartheywillroartheirwayintomynightmaresandsinktheirfangsinme.Kittensaredrowned.Whynotthem?

Ahandsuddenlygripsmyarmandyanksmeout.ItisMasseur’sunerringhand.‘Whatareyoudoinginthiscrowd?’heasks.‘Youcouldgethurt.’

WespotAyah.Sheappearspanicked.AndwhensheseesussherushesuptomeandpicksmeupandfussesovermeasifI’vebeenlostandfound.

‘It’sallright,’Isay,wishingtoreassureher,‘IwasonlylookingatSharbatKhan.’

‘Oh,’shesays.‘He’sback?’

‘Yes,’Isay,pointingatthecrowd.‘He’ssharpeningtheirknives.’

ThateveningSharbatKhanvisitsus,bringingAyahalmonds,pistachiosanddriedapricotstiedinasquareofredsatin.‘Howlong’veyoubeenback?’asksAyah,undoingtheknotsinthebundlewithherteethandexaminingthecontentswithherfingers.

‘Twodays,’hesays,hisvoicehoneyedwithadoration.‘Iwould’vecomeearlierbuttherewassucharushofbusiness.IneverknewthereweresomanydaggersandknivesinLahore!’

‘Ifyou’dwaitedmuchlongermypresentswouldhaverotted,’saysAyah.

Iamsurprised.AyahappearstohavelosthersenseofaweandexcitementinSharbatKhan’spresence.Sheisnottheleastbitawkward.Insteadofhidingherfaceandfidgetingwithhersarishelooksathimoutofcalmandbemusedeyes.

Masseur,perfumedandprimed,comeshalfanhourlater.Heiswearingalongcreamysilkshirtoverhisheavylinenlungiandhismoustacheisoiledandgleaming.Themen

appraiseeachotherwithcautioussuspicionasMasseur,hitchinguphislungi,hunkersdownonthefloor.

‘You’vebeenawayforquitesometime,’drawlsMasseur,twirlingthepointedtipsofhismoustachewithasignifi-canceImiss.‘Threemonthsorso?’

‘Yes,’saysSharbatKhan,pensivelysmoothingthethickgrowthofhair,croppedlikearug,onhisupperlip.‘Andyou’vebeenhereallthattime?’

‘Obviously,’saysMasseurcoolly.

Theylookasifeachisawhiskereddogcirclingtheother–weighinginandwarninghisfoe.

Ayah,meanwhile,iscrackingthealmondswithhersmallstrongteethandchewingthemwithappreciativesmacks.SheoffersthekernelstomeandthentoMasseur.Masseursmilesandshakeshishead,no.Heliftshisshirtandwithdrawsfromaknottiedinhiselegantlungiasmallpacketofpreparedpaan.Heholdsthebetel-leafouttoAyah.Ayahlooksatthesucculentpaan,plumpwithcardomom,andthenatMasseur’smouth.Herfacereflectsananswer.AndSharbatKhanturnsawayhisface,honourablyconcedingtheround.

Enoughisenough!TheyhavestaredateachotherandsecretlycommunicateduntilAyah’smouthisredwithpaan,andIamfittoscream.SharbatKhancarefullyplacesthegoldkulla–aroundwhichhisturbaniswrapped–onhisheadandstandsup.Withoutawordhemountshisbicycleandwobblesawaywithhismachineclatteringdejectedlybehindhim.

HisdeparturebringstomindtheChinaman.ItoccurstomethatIhaven’tseenhimforalongtime.‘Whereishe?Tellme.Tellme,’IshoutintoAyah’sears,andholdingherbythem,forcehertoturntome.

‘TheChinaman?’sheasksabsently.‘Oh,hewentawayatthefirstsmelloftrouble,’shesays,withmelodiousindulgenceforthecowardlyChinaman.

‘Whattrouble?’

‘ThisPakistan–Hindustanbusiness…’

‘Wheredidhego?’Iask.

‘Oh,Idon’tknow,’saysAyah.‘ProbablybacktohisChina.’

Masseur’sbeenwithAyahpracticallyallevening,yetthere’snosignofIce-candy-man.Iwonderaboutit.

ThenexteveningMasseurhasAyahalltohimself.Andthenext.Stillnosignofthepopsiclevendor.

Iamdisturbed.SoisAyah.‘Whereiseverybody?’sheasksMasseur:meaningtheGovernmentHousegardener,thewrestler,thebutcher,thezooattendant,ice-candy-manandtherestofthegang.EvenYousafandImamDinappeartohavebecomelessvisible.

Chapter19

PapooandIarehelpingHaribathethebuffalointheafternoonwhenAdiwalksupintheslushand,manoeuvringhimselfbetweenmeandthebuffalo,standsabsolutely,intenselystill.Asifthisaloneisnotenoughtorivetmyattention,hemurmursinmyear:‘Followme!’

Heturnsandcasuallywalksaway.Icantellheiswildwithexcitementandhasexercisedallhisself-controlnottobreakintoarun.I’dfollowhimtotheendsoftheearthtodiscoverthecauseofhisexcitement.

WhenweareoutsidetheShankars’emptyrooms,heturnstomehisshiningeyes.Hehasnorighttolooklikethis…Asiflitupfromwithin.Regardless–I’dfollowhimtotheendsoftheearth.

‘Whatisit?’Iwhisperinafrenzy.

‘Theblackboxisbackinthebathroom.’

Itisarareoccasion:Adi-made-of-mercurystandingstill,andconfidinginme.

Notonlyistheblackboxback,saysAdi,buthealsoknowswhat’sinit.

‘What?What?Tellme,’Iplead.

ButAdi,likeacatplayingwiththepoortail-lessmousey,says:‘Seeforyourself.’

Itiptoeupthebathroomstepsandapproachthelongbox.Itisassinisterasever.ItakeAdi’swordforitthatitisopen–butIdarenotliftthelid.Ihave-nowishtobescaredoutofmywits:Whatifit’sagrinning,skeletalcorpse?

Adiputsacautioningfingeronhislipsandliftsthelid.Nestledinscarletvelvet,inadepressionspeciallycarvedforit,likeadarkjewelinitssetting,isanenormousdouble-barrelgun.Ifeelitssmoothbarrelsanditspolishedwood.

Nowonderwecouldn’tcarrythebox.Thegunisheavy.Betweenuswecarrythegun,Adicautiouslyleadingatthebarrelend,andmeattheother.Nervousthatwemightbediscovered,orthatthegunmightfireitsdoublebarrelsintoAdi’sbehind,weatlastreachthegate.

Aditakesfirstturn.IhelphimstandupthegunandhelookslikeadiminutiveGurkhawithacannon.

Idon’tknowhowlongwetaketurnsholdingthegun.Anhour–perhapstwo.Weheartheubiquitouschantingofthemobsinthedistance:‘Allah-o-Akbar!’comesthefragmentedroarfromtheMuslimgoondasofMozang.‘Bolesonehal:Satsiriakal!’fromtheSikhgoondasofBeadonRoad.StandingatattentionwiththegunIfeelreadytofaceanymob.

Thereislittletraffic;afewtongas,halfadozencyclists.Agroupofprisoners,thechainsalongtheirarmsandlegsclanking,eyethegunspeculativelyandthepolicemanshepherdingthemprudentlycrossestheroad.Noonetalkstous.Thepresenceofthedualbarrelsisintimidating.

Luckilyit’snotmyturnwhenFathercyclesupandcomestoagrimhaltinfrontofAdi.Notloquaciousathiscalmest,Fatherisrenderedspeechless.HeglaresatAdi.‘Putitbackatonce!’hesaysatlast.HeslapsAdiforthefirsttimeinhislife.

PushingthecyclewithonehandFathercomestomeandthumpsmyback.Asthumpsgoitisahalf-heartedthump–unlikeMother’swhole-heartedwhacksthatcauseustostaggerclearacrossrooms–butnobeatingofMother’severyhurtsomuch.

AfterdinnerFathersitsusonhislapandexplains:‘Yourlivesweren’tworthtwopicewhenyoushowedoffwiththatgun.’

Theblackboxagaindisappears.

***

Ice-candy-manvisitsatlast.OnceagainwearegatheredontheShankars’abandonedveranda.Icannotbelievethechangeinhim.Goneisthedarklygrievinglookthathadaffectedmesodeeplytheeveningheemergedfromthenightandalmostcrashedintouswiththegrimnewsofthetrain-loadofdeadMuslims.

Ice-candy-manhasacquiredanunpleasantswaggerandastrangewayoflookingatHariandMoti.Heisfullofbravado–andstillfullofstories.‘YourememberKirpaRam?Thatskinflintweallowemoney?’heasks,barelybotheringtogreetanyoneashesettlesamongus,chompingonapaan.Hismouth,slimyandcrimsonwithbetel-juice,bloated–asifhe’sbecomeaccustomedtoindulginghimself.

‘Thatmoney-lenderwouldsqueezebloodfromafly!’hesays,bendingovertospitbetel-juiceintoaflowerpotholdingadelicatetraceryofferns.‘Well,’hecontinues,‘KirpaRam’spackedhisfamilyofftoDelhi.Butcanhebeartopartfromthoseofushe’sbeenfatteningon?No!So,hestays.Hethinkshe’sthatbrave!’Ice-candy-man’smouthcurlsinacontemptuoussneer.‘ButtheinstantweenteredhishouseIsawhisfatdhotiedtailslipoutofthebackdoor!Ramzanathebutchernoticedadamppatchononeofthewalls.Ithadbeenhastilywhitewashed.Hescrapedthecementandremovedabrick.Whatd’youthinkhefound?Poucheswithninehundredguineassewnintothem!Ninehundredgoldenguineas!’

Ice-candy-manstudiesus,movinghisswaggeringeyestriumphantlyfromfacetoface.

Ayah,theGovernmentHousegardener,HariandMotistarebackwithset,expressionlessfaces.Masseurfrowns.Yousafscowlsatthenakedverandabulb.ImamDingetsup,leaningheavilyontheGovernmentHousegardener,andinvokingAllah’smercyandblessingsandsighing,headsforthekitchen.

‘Showmeyourhand,’saysIce-candy-mantoAyah.

Ayah,surprisedintothinkinghewantstoreadherfuture,opensherplumppalmandshowsittoIce-candy-man.Ialsothinkheisinitiatingseductionthroughpalmistry.Insteadheplacesagoldcoininherhand.Ayahstudiesitminutelyandbitesittotestthegold.

Itisbittenandpassedfromhandtohandandontome.IexamineQueenVictoria’sembossedprofilewithfascination.Despitethedifferenceinthemetalsitisthesameprofileshedisplaysinherstatue.

AyahreturnsthecointoIce-candy-man.

‘Keepit.It’sforyou,’hesaysgrandly,foldingherfingersoverit.

‘No,’shesays,shakingherheadandhidingherhandsbehindherback.

She’slikeme.Therearesomethingsshewillnothold.

‘ButIbroughtitspeciallyforyou!Pleaseacceptit,’pleadsIce-candy-man,forthefirsttimesoundinglikehisoldingratiatingself.

Ayahavertsherface.‘Where’sSherSingh?’shesuddenlyasks.Asifthezooattendantissomewhereheoughtnottobe.

Thereisnoreply.

‘He’sleftLahore,Ithink,’saysYousafatlast,glancingatIce-candy-man.

Ice-candy-manmakesaharsh,crudesound.‘There’snaturaljusticeforyou!’hesays,spittingtheredjuiceintothefernsagain.‘YourememberhowhegotridofhisMuslimtenants?Well,thetenantshadtheirownback!Exposedthemselvestohiswomenfolk!Theywentabitfurther…playedwithoneofSherSingh’ssisters…Nothingserious–butherhusbandturnedugly..Hewaskilledinthescuffle,’saysIce-candy-mancasually.‘Well,theyhadtoleaveLahoresoonerorlater…AfterwhatonehearsofSikhatrocitiesit’sbettertheyleftsooner!Therefugeesareclamouringforrevenge!’

‘Wereyouamongthemenwhoexposedthemselves?’askstheGovernmentHousegardener.Histoneimpliesmoreamildassertionthanaquestion.

‘What’sittoyou,oye?’saysIce-candy-manraisinghisvoiceandflaringintoaninsolentdisplayofwrath.‘Ifyoumustknow,Iwas!I’lltellyoutoyourface–IlosemysenseswhenIthinkofthemutilatedbodiesonthattrainfromGurdaspur…thatnightIwentmad,Itellyou!IlobbedgrenadesthroughthewindowsofHindusandSikhsI’d

knownallmylife!Ihatedtheirguts…IwanttokillsomeoneforeachofthebreaststheycutofftheMuslimwomen…Thepenises!’

Inthesilencethatfollows,thegardenerclearshisthroat.

‘You’reright,brother,’hesays.IfeelhecannotmeetIce-candy-man’seyes.Heislookingsodeliberatelyatthefloorthatitappearsasifheishanginghishead.‘Therearesomethingsamancannotlookuponwithoutgoingmad.It’sthemischiefofSatan…Evilwillspawnevil…Godpreserveus.’Hisvoiceisgruffwiththeburdenofdisillusionandloss.‘I’vesentmyfamilytoDelhi.AssoonastheSarkarpermitsIwilljointhem.’ThegardenerturnshiswearygazeuponHari.‘Haveyoumadeplanstogo,brother?’heasks.

‘Whereto?’saysHari,shakinghisheadandwipinghiseyeswithhisarm.‘I’llridethestormout.I’venowheretogo.’

‘You’llfindsomeplacetogo,’saystheGovernmentHousegardener.‘Whenourfriendsconfesstheywanttokillus,wehavetogo…’Hemakesnomovetowipethetearsrunninginlittlerillsthroughhisgreystubbleanddrippingfromhischin.Theredrimsofhiseyesareblurredandsoggyandblendintothesoftfleshasifhehasbecomeaddictedtoweeping.

MotiandPapooaresittingbowedandsubduedontheverandasteps.‘Whataboutyoutwo?’Masseurasks.‘Areyouleaving?’

Afterapause,duringwhichwehearMoti’sknucklescrackashepresseshisfingersagainsthispalm,speakinghesitantlyandsolowthatIcanbarelyhearhim,hesays,‘ItalkedtothepadreattheCantonmentMission…We’rebecomingChristian.’

Ice-candy-man,appearingrestless,nodscasually.‘Quiteafewofyourpeopleareconverting,’hesays.‘You’dbetterchangeyourname,too,whileyou’reatit.’

ThelongerIobserveIce-candy-manthemoreInoticethechangewroughtinhim.Heseemstohavelosthislithe,cat-likemovements.Andheappearstohaveputonweight.Perhapsit’sjusttheairofconsequenceonhimthatmakeshimappearmoresubstantial.

‘TheFalettisHotelcookhasalsorunawaywithhistailbetweenhislegs!’heinformsus,unasked.Andonceagainheappearsbloatedwithtriumph…andahorridirre-pressiblegloating.

Itisverylate.Thefrogsarecroakingagain.Wemighthavesomerainyet.ExceptforMasseur,everyonehasgone.Wemovetothepatchofgrassneartheservants’quarters.Thereisafullmoonoutbutitispitch-darkwherewesitunderamulberrytree.Thereisnobreeze.Andexceptfortheoccasionalrustleintheleavescausedbyarestlessbird,ortheindiscerniblemovementofafrog,thenightisstill.

Ayahiscryingsoftly.‘Imustgetoutofhere,’shesays,sniffingandwipinghernoseonhersari-blousesleeve.‘IhaverelativesinAmritsarIcangoto.’

‘Youdon’tneedtogoanywhere,’saysMasseur,soassuredlypossessivethatIfeelastabofjealousy.‘Whydoyouworry?I’mhere.Noonewilltouchahaironyourhead.Idon’tknowwhyyoudon’tmarryme!’hesays,sighingpersuasively.‘YouknowIworshipyou…’

‘I’malreadyyours,’saysAyahwithdisturbingsubmission.‘Iwillalwaysbeyours.’

‘Don’tyoudaremarryhim!’Icry.‘You’llleaveme…Don’tleaveme,’Ibeg,kickingMasseur.

‘Sillygirl!Iwon’tleaveyou…AndifIhaveto,you’llfindanotherayahwhowillloveyoujustasmuch.’

‘Idon’twantanotherayah…Iwillneverletanotherayahtouchme!’

Istartsobbing.IkissAyahwhereverMasseurisnottouchingherinthedark.

Chapter20

Rosy-Peterhavegone.TheGovernmentHousegardenerhasgone…

Andthegramophonesandspeakersmountedontongasandlorriesscratchily,endlesslypouringoutthemelodyofNurJehan’spopularfilmsongthatisnowsostrangelyapt:Merebachpankesathimujhebhoolnajana–

Dekho,dekkohensenazamana,hansenazamana.

Friendsfromourchildhood,don’tforgetus–

Seethatachangedworlddoesnotmockus.

Instead,waveuponscruffywaveofMuslimrefugeesfloodLahore–andthePunjabwestofLahore.WithinthreemonthssevenmillionMuslimsandfivemillionHindusandSikhsareuprootedinthelargestandmostterribleexchangeofpopulationknowntohistory.ThePunjabhasbeendividedbytheicycard-sharksdealingoutthelandvillagebyvillage,citybycity,wheelinganddealinganddolingoutfavours.

Fornowthetideisturned–andtheHindusarebeingfavouredovertheMuslimsbytheremnantsoftheRaj.NowthatitsobjectivetodivideIndiaisachieved,theBritishfavourNehruoverJinnah.NehruisKashmiri;theygranthimKashmir.Spurninglogic,defyingrationale,ignoringtheconsequenceofbequeathingaMuslimstatetotheHindus:whileJinnahfutilelyprotests:‘Statesmencannoteattheirwords!’

Statesmendo.

TheygrantNehruGurdaspurandPathankot,withoutwhichMuslimKashmircannotbesecured.

Nehruwearsredcarnationsinthebuttonholesofhisivoryjackets.HebandieswordswithLadyMountbattenandispresumedtobeherlover.Heischarming,too,toLordMountbatten.Suave,Cambridge-polished,hecarriesabouthimanauraofpowerandapresencethatflattersanyonehecomplimentstenfold.Hedolesoutpromises,smiles,kisses-on-cheeks.HeisintheprimeofhisBrahminmanhood.Heishandsome:hischeeksglowpink.

Jinnahisincapableofcompliments.Austere,driven,pukka-sahibaccented,deathlyill:incapableofcheek-kissing.Insteadofcarnationshewearsakarakulicap,sombrewithtight,greylamb’s-woolcurls:andinsteadofpalejackets,blackachkancoats.Heispasttheprimeofhiselegantmanhood.Sallow,whip-thin,sharp-tongued,uncompromising.

HistrainingattheOldBaileyandpracticeinEnglishcourtroomshasgivenhimfaithinconstitutionalmeans,andheputshismisplacedhopesintotallstandardsofuprightjustice.ThefadingEmpiresacrificeshiscausetotheirshiftingallegiances.

Mothershowsmeaphotograph:‘SheisJinnah’swife,’shesays.‘She’sParsee.’

Thewomaninthephotographisastonishinglybeautiful.Largeeyes,liquid-brown,radiatingyouth,promisingintelligence,declaringinnocence,shiningfromanovalmarble-firmface.Full-lipped,delightingintheknowledgeofherownloveliness:confidentintheknowledgeofhergenerousimpulses.Giving–likeAyah.Daring–likeMother.‘Plucky!’Mothersays.

Fortheladyinthephotographisdaring:anIndianwomanbaringherhandsomeshouldersinastraplessgowninanerawhensuchunclothingwasconsideredreprehensible.Defying,ateighteen,herwealthyknightedfather,bravingthedisapprovaloftheirrigidcommunity,excommunicated,shemarriesaMuslimlawyertwenty-twoyearsolderthanher.Jinnahwasbrilliant,elegantlyhandsome:hehadtobetomarrysucharavingbeauty.Andcold,too,hehadtobe–towinsuchagenerousheart.

‘Whereisshe?’IaskMother.

Mother’seyesturninwards.Herlipsgiveatwitch:‘Shediedattwenty-nine.Herheartwasbroken…’

Herdaringtonoaccount.Herdefiancehumbled.Herenergyextinguished.Onlyherimageinthephotograph–andherinnocence–remainintact.

Butdidn’tJinnah,too,dieofabrokenheart?Andtoday,fortyyearslater,infilmsofGandhi’sandMountbatten’slives,inbooksbyBritishandIndianscholars,Jinnah,whoforadecadewasknownas‘AmbassadorofHindu-MuslimUnity’,iscaricatured,andportrayedasamonster.ThemanaboutwhomIndia’spoetessNaiduSarojiniwrote:

…thecalmhauteurofhisaccustomedreservemasks,forthosewhoknowhim,anaïveandeagerhumanity,anintuitionquickandtenderasawoman’s,ahumourgayandwinningasachild’s–pre-eminentlyrationalandpractical,discreetanddispassionateinhisestimateandacceptanceoflife,theobvioussanityandserenityofhisworldlywisdomeffectuallydisguiseashyandsplendididealismwhichisoftheveryessenceoftheman.

Chapter21

Harihashadhisbodhishaved.HehasbecomeaMuslim.

Hehasalsohadhispeniscircumcised.‘Byabarber,’saysCousin,unbuttoninghisflyinElectric-aunt’ssittingroom.Treatingmetoaviewofhisuncircumcisedpenis,hestretcheshisforeskinbacktoshowmehowHari’scircumcisedpenismustlook.

IrecallHari’sdarkgenitals,partiallyobscuredbythedustandduskandcrumpledwithfearashestoodinthecircleofhistormentors.Myimaginationpresentsunbearableimages.IshakemyheadtodispelthemandrevertmyattentiontoCousin’sexposedflesh.

HisgenitalshavegrownsinceIlastexaminedthem–threeyearsago–afterhe’dhadhisherniaoperation.Thepenisislongerandthickerandgracefullyarched–anditseemstobebreathing.

‘Feelit,’offersCousin.

Ilikeitsfeel.Itiswarmandcuddly.AsIsqueezethepliantfleshitstrengthensandgrowsinmyhand.

‘Hey!’Isay.‘What’sthis!’

CousinhasafunnylookinhiseyesthatIdon’ttrust.

‘Ihavebecomeahoney-comb,’hesays.‘Lickme,here,andseewhathappens.’

Ilickthetipgingerly.Nothing.Nohoney.

‘You’vegottosuckoutthehoney.’Cousinarcheshisbackandmanoeuvreshispenistomymouth.

‘Suckityourself!’Isay,standingup.

‘Ican’t,’saysCousin.

Iseetheabsurdityofmysuggestion.Ishrugaway.

IlikeCousin.I’veeventhoughtofmarryinghimwhenwegrowup:butthisisasideofhimI’mbecomingawareofforthefirsttime,andIdon’tlikeit.

‘Allright,I’llshowyouanyway,’saysCousininaconciliatoryvoice.‘Justlook:I’llshowyousomething.’

CousinpumpsandpumpshispenisanditbecomesallredandIthinkhewilltearhimselfandIsay,‘Stopit!You’llbleed,’buthepumpsandpumpsandIbegintocry.

Cousintooisclosetocrying.Hemopesaroundfortherestoftheafternoonwithhisflylookingstuffed.Ihaven’tbeenabletokeepmyeyesofffliessince:intriguedbythefleshymachinery.

Harihasadaptedhisnametohisnewfaith:hewantsustocallhimHimatAli.Hehasalsochangedhisdhotiforthesubstantialgathersofthedraw-stringshalwar.

***

IspendthenightaftermybirthdayatGodmother’s.Lateintheeveningherroomresemblesthebarracksdormitorywepeepintofromtheservants’quartersroof.Fivecotsarelaidoutatallanglesandthereishardlyanyspacetowalk.

Ilieonmycot,betweenGodmotherandDrManekMody.Oldhusbandisalreadysnoringgentlyfromthedirectionofourfeet.OnlythekitchenlightisonandSlavesisterissoftlylayingoutthecupsandsaucersforthemorning’stea.

‘Hurryupandgotosleep,Lenny,’saysDrMody,sogleefullythatIbecomesuspiciousandask,‘Why?’

‘BecauseIwanttopounceonyourRodaAuntyandeatherup.I’mhungry.’

Therehegoesagain.

Godmotherissilent.Ireachoutmyhandandtapthewoodenframeofhercharpoyinthedarkandsheholdsmyhandtight.

DrModymakesa‘slurp-slurp’soundandrubshishandstogetherinthedark.

‘Don’tbesilly.Youcan’teatpeople,’Isay.

‘Gotosleep,can’tyou?’hesays,ignoringmycomment.‘Now,wheredoIstart?…RoastlegofAuntyorbarbecuedribs?Ofcourse!I’llmakeanicejellyfromhertrotters!Seasonedwithcinnamonandorangejuice–slurp-slurp.JustlikeImamDin’sjelly.’

ImamDinmakesadeliciousjelly–butoutofsheep’strotters.

DrMody’scotcreaksashesitsup,andIseehispyjama-suitedsilhouetteand,baldheadshiningmenacinglyinthefaintlightfromthekitchen.IspringoutofbedandwrapmylimbsaboutGodmother.Shelieswithinmysmallarmsandlegslikeatrustingandtremulouswhaleinherwhitegarments.‘Ifyoutouchher,Iwillkillyou!’Iscream.‘Ihaveadouble-barrelgun!’

‘IthinkIwillstartwithcrumbedchopsàlaRoda,’saysthedoctorundeterred.

ThelightisblockedbrieflyasSlavesistercomesthroughthedoor,carefullybalancingasaucerofhotteaforGodmother.Shenoticestheseateddoctorandasks,‘CanIgetyouanight-cap?’

‘Yes,please.I’dloveahotcupofbloodàlaRoda:withsaltandpepper.’

Ihaveabrilliantidea.‘YoucanhaveMiniAunty.Sheisfatter.’

‘Thankyouverymuch!’saysMiniAunty.

‘Idon’twantMini.I’minthemoodforatougholdthingIcanchewon.’

‘You’reaghoul!’Iscreechsternly.

‘Oh,no.I’monlyavampire.’

‘Now,now.Nomoreofthat,’intervenesSlavesister.‘Someonewillhavenightmares…Andthensomeonemightwetherbed.’

‘Someonewillnotwetherbed!’Isayfirmly,usingthetoneGodmotherusestosquashher.

‘Nevermindyourcheek.Getbacktoyourcharpoy.Youshouldbefastasleep,’saysSlavesister,completelyunabashed,andpatientlyholdingoutGodmother’ssaucerofhottea.

‘Chi,chi,chi!Shewetsherbed?’saysDrModyholdinghisnose.‘Chi,chi,chi!Don’tsleepnexttome.’

‘Shedoesnotwetthebed,’saysGodmother,risinggallantlytotheoccasion–andtotakehersauceroftea.

‘Youwouldn’tknow.Youdon’twashthesheets,’saysSlavesisterrecklessly.She’sprobablycountingontheinchGodmotherallowedherwhen,bemusedbytheeventsofthathistoricday,sheletSlavesistergetawaywithinsubordinationonmybirthday.ButherluckybreakhasgonethewayofallsuchbreaksandGodmother,rearinguponherpillows,retaliates:‘Don’tthinkI’venotbeenobservingyourtongueoflate!Ifyou’renotcareful,I’llsnipitoff!Thenyou’llprobablylearnnottoberudeinfrontofguests.IhatetothinkwhatManekwilltellourmiddlesisteraboutyourbehaviourbeforeyourelders!’

‘Really,Rodabai!Howlongwillyoutreatmelikeachild?’

‘Tillyougrowup!Godknows,you’vegrownolder–andfatter–butnotup!Thischildherehasmoresensethanyou.Nowstopeatingourheads.Sayyourprayersandgotosleep.’

Slavesisterretreatstothekitchenandcommencesmumbling.

DrManekModyrepresseshiscannibalisticprowlingandliesdownquietly.

It’slovelytohavesomeonefightyourbattlesforyou.Speciallywhenyou’relittle.IadoreGodmother.Ilatchontohertighter,andkissherroughkhaddarnightgown.Thepantrylightgoesout.Slavesistergropesherwaytohersaggingcharpoyandcontinueshermumblesinthevicinityofourheads.

‘Um!Um!’warnsGodmother.

Themumblesstop.

IknowDrModyisonlyteasing.Afterall,I’meight!Whenwilltheystoptreatingmelikeababy?AndI’mfedupofbeingcalledLennybaby,Lennybaby,Lennybaby…

WhenGodmothercomesoutofherbaththenextmorning,clatteringintothekitchenonwoodenthongs,herdolphinshapewrappedinonlyhersari,oneshoulderbare,hairdripping–alldewyandfresh–shelookslikeadaintyyoungthing.Asifthewaterhaswhittledawayherage.

BythetimeSlavesisteremergesfromherbath,lookinglikemeltingtallowandoozingmoisturefrompowderedpores,GodmotherhasputonherbodiceandblouseandvelvetslippersandpumpedalivethehissingPrimusstove.Sheappearsacceptingoflife.Consciousofherirrepressiblyyouthfulspirit–raringtogo.

‘Whattookyousolonginthebath?’shesays,gettingthedayofftoaflyingstart.‘YouknowManekhastogooutearly.Youknowthere’ssomuchtobedone–theboysarecomingintheevening–andyouretiretosplashfromthebucketlikeCleopatra!’

Slavesisteristoosedatedfromherbathtoreact.Oozingmoisture,shemovesaboutgatheringtheingredientsfortheomelettesandbeginschoppingtheonionsandgreenpeppers.

DrMody,anxiousnottomissthechatter,burstsintothekitcheninhisstripedpyjamas.Andasifhisloudvoicewerenotenough,heclapshandstogainattention:‘Where’sbreakfast?Where’sbreakfast?I’msohungryIcouldeatRodabai!SuchapityLenny’shere…’hesays,grinningfromeartoear–andnicelyfanningbankedfires.

‘IfBathingBeautydidn’ttakehourswallowinginherbathlikeCleopatra,you’dhavebreakfast!Comeon.Comeon.Moveyourfingers!’

‘Yes,Mini!Moveit.Moveit,’saysthedoctorputtinghisshortarmsroundSlavesister’sheavyshouldersandhuggingheraffectionately.

‘Mindyoudon’tcutyourself,’cautionsGodmother.

‘It’snotthefirsttimeI’musingaknife,Rodabai,’saysAuntMinireasonably.

‘Isaid“mind”.Ihaveenoughworrieswithoutyouraddingtothem!’

‘Yes,yes!Mindyoudon’tchopoffyourfatlittlefingers,’saysDrManekMody,echoingGodmother.

‘Now,don’tyougojoininghandswithher,’saysMiniAunty.

‘Her?Her?’asksGodmother,lookingconfusedlyatherbrother-in-lawandatme.‘Who’sher?Where’sher?’

Slavesisterchopsthetomatoessilently.

‘Yes?Who’sher?’asksherbrother-in-law.

Oldhusbandemergesfromthebathroom.Heis,asalways,dryandbrittle,andirritated.

‘HisSourship’shadhisbath.Manek,you’dbettertakeyourturnbeforeCleopatradecidestosettledowntoherbusinessonthecommode.’

‘Really,Rodabai…Ihatetosayit,butyoureallyaregoingtoofar,’saysSlavesister.

‘Oh?Whereto?WhereamIgoing?’

‘Don’tmakemesaysomethingyou’llregret…’

‘Comeon.Outwithit!I’dliketoknowwhereI’mgoing…andwhereIstand!’

‘Yes.Outwithit!WhereareyoupackingmyRodabaioffto?’

‘Manek,you’dbewisetokeepoutofthis,’saysSlave-sistersolemnly.‘Don’taggravatethesituation…It’sbadenoughwithoutyourencouragingher.’

‘Isthatso?’Godmotherisingoodform.‘MayIaskwhoyouaretotellManeknottomeddle?Areyousomebody?QueenCleopatraofJailRoad,perhaps?’

‘Youknow!I’mnothing…nobody…’

‘ThenwhodoesyourNobodyshipthinksheisorderingabout?Youmeddleallyouwant,Manek!Youaremarriedtooursister.Youhaveeveryrighttoencouragewhomyouwishtointhishouse!’Godmotherturnstofaceherstoickidsister.‘Andhe’sonlyaskingwhatIwishtoknow!Howfar,exactly,amIgoing?’

‘Ihatetosayit…but,youarebecoming…vulgar!’

‘Oh?Isthatso?Andwhatdoyouthinkyouarebecoming…whenyoulollonthecommodeallmorningspreadingperfumes?’

‘Chi,chi,chi!’saysDrMody,holdinghisfleshynose.

‘I’llchopoffyournose,youchi-chi-chiwallal’saysMiniAunty.Sheoftenactsthespoiltsis-in-lawwithhim.

‘NowonderMrsPenaskedtheothermorningifthegarbagecarthadbeentous.Nowonder!Ifeelsoembarrassed…’saysGodmotherbattinghereyes.

‘Ifit’sconstipation,Icanhelpherout,’saystheprofessionalmedicine-man.

‘Isthatwhatitis?’asksGodmother,allintelligentandalertandconcerned.‘Issheconstipated,doyouthink?Couldyouprescribeherastrongpurgative?’

‘Icangiveherahorse’sdose,ifyouwish.’

‘Sogoodofyou,Manek,’saysGodmother.‘Peoplewillstoptakingusfortheneighbourhoodmanuredump.’

Slavesisterwipesherfaceonhersleeve.Herlipsaremoistandflattened:theyappeartobemoving.

‘Areyoumuttering?’demandsGodmother.‘Kindlypermitustoshareyourmutters.’

‘No…it’sjusttheonions…’Slavesistermanagestosay.‘Theomelettemasalaisready.Wheredoyouwantmetomaketheomelette?’

Slavesisterhaswiselyelectedtosounddocileandmatter-of-fact.

Oldhusbandshufflesoutofthekitchenandsettleswithhisprayerbookinthebentwoodchair.Thewhitestubbleonhischeeksquiversashesilentlymumbleshisprayers.

GodmotherhasinvitedfourstudentsfromtheKingEdwardMedicalCollegedormstotea.Theirparents,whohaveatsomepointintimeknowneitherGodmotheroroneofherkin,haverequestedhertokeepanoccasionaleyeonthem.

Godmotherinvitesthemwheneverherbrother-in-lawvisitsLahore.Shefeelsitisgoodforthefledglingstobeinthecompanyofafully-fledgeddoctor.Though,asfarasIcantell,theydiligentlycompeteinsettingeachotherabadexample.

Onlytwostudents,YakoobfromPeshawarandCharlesChaudhry,anIndianChristianfromMultan,showupthatevening.

‘PrakashandhisfamilyhavemigratedtoDelhi,’saysYakoob,explainingtheabsenceoftheHinduboy.

Wearesittingonthedriveinaroughcircle;GodmotherinhereasychairandIonherlap.

‘RoshanSinghleftforAmritsaronlylastMonday,’saysYakoobexplainingtheabsenceoftheSikhstudent.‘SomegoondasfromBhattiwereafterhissisters.Weescortedthem,andthewholefamily,toaconvoy.’

Slavesister,sittingonherlowstoolwithherpodgykneesspreadbeneathhersari,clucksmournfullyandshakesherhead.

‘It’stobeexpected,Isuppose,’saysGodmothersighing.

‘Prettygirls?’enquiresDrManekMody.‘Sikhgirlshavebeautifuleyes,’hestates,airinghiseye-fetish.

‘Ohyes!’saysCharlesChaudhrywithbatedbreath.‘Lighteyes.Hazel.Greenish…Youcangetlostinthem,man!’

AyahhelpsMiniAuntyservetea.

‘Youra-y-a-hhasthemostenormouseyesI’veeverseen,’saysthedoctortomeinEnglish.‘Gorgeous!Ravishing!’

PeoplespelloutthelettersthinkingAyahwillnotunderstandthealphabet.Thisoccurssofrequentlythatshe’dhavetobearealnitwitnottocatchon.

Ayah,awaresheisthestarattraction,rollsandslidesherthicklyfringedeyestoglamorouseffectasshepassesthetea.Shegoesinandfetchesaplateofalmondfudgeandsweetlentilladoos.

‘Lookout!There’saflyontheladoos,’saysDrMody.

Beingadoctorheismoreagitatedbythefly’spresencethanweare.

‘Areyoubotheredbysuchalittlefly?’saysAyah,peekingatthebalddoctorfromthecornersofherteasingeyes.‘Letitbe:itwillhardlyeatanything.’

DrModylooksather,surprised:tootakenabacktocomment.

Thenhespringsoutofhischairandfluttershissmallhandovertheladoos,saying:‘Shoo,shoo!’Thedisturbedflyliftssluggishlyandthedoctor,inaswiftbrownmovement,catchesitinhisfist.Hepuffsupandsurveysusasifhe’scaughtalion.

‘Welldone!’saysMiniAunty:everthesycophant.

‘Whydon’tyoueatit,’Itellhim.‘You’realwayshungry!’

DrModyslaughterstheflywithaloudclap.‘No,I’llsaveitforyou,’hesays,steppinguptomeandshovinghishandwiththedeadflytowardsmymouth.

IscreamandburymyfaceinGodmother’sblouse.Shefendshimoffwithonehandandholdsmeprotectivelywiththeother.Ifeelhermovementsasshechucklesandflays.

DrModysitsdownlaughing;andwhenIturntolookathimhemakesastraightfaceandpretendstoeatthefly.

‘You’reapig!’Isay.

Butoncelaunched,DrModycannotbedistractedlongfromhisfetish.Hepeersatmeacutely:Whydoyouhavesuchanunfortunatepairofeyes?’heenquires.‘You’reabitcross-eyed,aren’tyou?’

‘No.I’mnot!’Iprotestloudly.

‘Notcross-eyed,’saysSlavesister,andtreacherouslyadds,‘Sheonlysquints.’

‘No!’Ishout.‘Idon’t!’

‘Don’tshout,’saysmytraitorousaunt,coveringherears.‘We’renotdeaf.’

‘Idon’tunderstandit,’saysthespitefulcannibal.‘Yourmotherhassuchsweetchinkylittleeyes–suchapityherdaughter’seyesarelikethis.’Hecrosseshisindexfingers.

Iignorehim.

‘WhataboutyourRosy-Peter’sAmericanmother?Howisshe?’thedoctorsuddenlyasks.It’shardtokeeptrackofhisabruptshiftsinconversation.

‘Theyleftlongago,’Isay.Caughtoffguard,I’mcivil.

‘Anothersetofgreeneyesgone!’lamentsthedoctor,sadlyshakinghishead.‘I’dfollowthemtotheendsoftheearth!’

Ifonekeepshissingletrackinmindthedoctorisnotsohardtofollowafterall.Thewoolly,ruminativesilencethatsucceedsthedoctor’ssoulfulsighsisabruptlyshatteredbyOldhusband.

‘What’sallthisbusinessabouteyes!eyes!eyes!’heexplodes.‘Youcan’tpokethedamnthingintotheireyes!’

Slavesistergasps,shockedoutofherhostesssmile.Theboystittersheepishly.DrManekModylookscompletelyconfounded.

IhaveneverseenOldhusbandsoawesome–notevenwhenhethunderedLongfellowatme.

‘He’squiteright!’saysGodmother,standingbyhermatter-of-factspouse.

Oldhusbandhasbeenhauledthroughthebook,zombie-like,inhiscane-bottomedchair,white-stubbied,un-prepossessing…Hehasbeendragged,disgruntled,fromtheearliestpagestositmuteonthedrivewithGodmotherandSlavesisterwhiletheychatterandfightandclaphandsandsing:‘LameLenny!Threeforapenny!’Hehasbeencompelledtosnoreatourfeet–andtospoutverseandshufflehisfeet.Allsothathemayintheendconfoundthecarnivorousdoctorwithhistestyoutburst!

Nowthathe’shadhissay,hecanpeaceablypassaway…

Ofcourse,IonlyappreciatedwhatOldhusbandhadsaidyearslater.

Chapter22

Motherdevelopsabusyairofsecrecyandpreoccupationthatmakesherevenmoreremote.SheshootsoffintheMorris,afterFatherdrudgesoffonhisbicycle;andreturnslateintheafternoon–andscootsoutagain.Electric-auntoftenaccompaniesher,herthinlipscompressedindeterminedsilence,herefficienteyesconcentratedoninwardthoughts.

Ourbewilderedfacesagaingrowpaleaswepondertheirabsences.Weeatless.Wearefretful.

Theyaren’ttheleastbothered.

‘Whatcantheybeupto?’wondersCousinonawarmAprilafternoon,lyingfacedownonthecoolliving-roomflooroftheSinghs’emptyrooms.

‘Whydon’ttheytakeus?’Isay,hurtatbeingdeprivedofdriveswhilemymotherandmyauntgallivantGodknowswhere.

‘Iknowwheretheygo.Iknoweverything,’saysAdi,withatransparencethatconvincesusheknowsabsolutelynothing.

Ayah,almostasmystifiedasus,volunteersanintriguingbitofinformation.‘Getalookinthecar’sdickysometime.’

‘Why?’Idemand,surprised.

‘Becauseitisfullofpetrolcans!’sheconfides.Andonthisdramaticnoteattemptstoslipaway.

ButCousingrabstheendofhersari.AndIjumpuptoblockherexit.Andasshetriestoescape,thesariunravels.Giggling,turninggiddilyontheballsofherfeetlikeagaudytop,shewrapsherselfbackinandbouncesdownamongus.‘Toba,toba!’shesays,andtouchingthetipsofherearsinquicksuccessionsaying,‘I’veneverseensuchbadmashchildren!Who’sgoingtoironyourmother’ssari?You?’

MotherandFatheraregoingouttodinnerlater.Fourhourslater!Thesaricanwait.Mattersofmoremoment–likethedickyfulofpetrol–havetobeconsideredfirst.

Thecardickyisalwayslocked.IacceptAyah’sstatementonfaith,butCousinissuspicious.‘Howdoyouknowaboutthepetrol?’heasks,permittingmistrusttoshadehisvoice.

‘Iknow!’saysAyah,buttoningup.

Cousincanbesillysometimes.Hereweare,onthebrinkofarevelation,andheinsultsAyah.

‘IfAyahsaysthereispetrolinthecar’sdicky,thereispetrolinthecar’sdicky!’Isay.

AdiholdsAyahbyherearsand,shakingherheadlikeacoconut,says:‘Comeon,tellmore.Please,please!’

‘Wewon’ttellanybody.Iswear!’Isay.Andtoestablishfaith,pinchtheskinonmythroat.

‘IswearIwon’teither!Youknowyoucantrustme,’saysmymistrustfulCousin,adequatelyhumbledandathismostadultandcharming.HetoopinchestheskinonhisAdam’sapple,andonhiskneesmovesclosertoAyah.

Ayahturnsherheadthiswayandthatandrollshereyesabouttheroom.Cousinquicklygetsupandpeersintotheotheruninhabitedroomsoftheannexetomakesuretherearenoeavesdroppers.

WhenCousinreturns,Ayahsays:‘IfyourmothersgettoknowItoldyouthis…HareKrishna!They’llkillme!’

Againwetakeanoathofsilence,andfurtherreassureherbyoursolemnfaces.

‘Lookintothegodownnexttomyquarterssometime,’shesays.‘It’sfullofgallonsandgallonsofpetrol!’

Wearestupefied.Petrolisrationed.Itisanoffencetostoreit.

‘Yourmotherbringsthecansinthecar,’shesays,guiltilyremovinghereyesfrommine,‘andtakesthemoutagain!Ihelphercarrythemin…andIhelphercarrythemout!’

‘Doesn’tanyoneelseknowaboutit?’enquiresmystupefied,mystifiedandcircumspectCousin.

‘Onlyyourmothers,’saysAyah.‘Wedotheloadingandtheunloadingwheneveryone’sasleep.Wecoverthecanswithsheetsandtable-cloths.’

Iamsoshockedthatmyjawdrops.IlookatAdiandCousin.They,too,havebeenstruckbysimilarthoughts.Theireyesarecrossedindismayandtheirjaws,too,areunhinged.

‘Whatareyougapinglikethatfor?Closeyourmouths!’saysAyahsharply–lookingbewildered–sensingthatweareincriminatingourmothers.‘Iftheydosomethingwedon’tunderstand,theyhaveagoodreasonforit!’

I’mastonishedshehasnotcaughton.Weclamourmouthsshut.

Wenowknowwhothearsonistsare.OurmothersaresettingfiretoLahore!

Backandforth,backandforth,goourmothersontheirsecretmissions,carryingtheirsinisterfreightinthedickyofourMorrisMinor.Andthemoretheyabsentthemselves,thehigherrisetheflamesinthewalledcity,andalloverLahore–andthequickertheyreturn,thecloserswirltheangrybillowsofsootysmoke.

Andbyoursilencewecommitourselvestocomplicity.We’resureFatherknows.WhyelsewouldheleavetheMorrisforMother?

Myheartpoundsatthedamnationthatawaitstheirsouls.Mykneesquakeatthehorroroftheirimminentarrest.InominousdreamstheyparadeWarrisRoad.Inhighheels:inchiffonsaris:escortedbysoldiers:insinglefile:handcuffed,legcuffed,clankingchains…TheirmournfuleyesseekingusastheyaremarchedintoBirdwoodBarracks.

Forthefirsttime,unbidden,IcovermyheadwithascarfandinsecludedcornersjoinmyhandstotaketheIOInamesofGod.TheBountiful.TheInnocent.TheForgiverofSin.TheFulfillerofDesire.HewhocanturnAirintoAshes:FireintoWater:DustintoGems!TheangleofthewallsdeflectstheancientwordsofthedeadAvastanlanguageandtheprayerresoundssoothinglyinmyears.OftenInoticeCousinwithhisskull-caponhisheadlurkinginlockedbathroomsandIfeelmyconcernisshared.AndatnightwhenAdiwhipsthedarknesswithhiskusti,ashegoesthroughtheritualofthesacredthread,Iknowwhatevilhepraystobanishfromourmotherandaunt’sthoughts.

AttheendofthemonthwhenAyahconductsherbi-yearlysearchfornitsonourheads,shediscoverswehaveeachsprungonewhitehair!

I’msurprisedourhairhasn’tallturnedwhite.

***

HimatAliholdsmyschoolsatchel,andIholdhisfinger,aswewalkdownWarrisRoadtoMrsPen’s.

AttheSalvationArmywallItugonHari-alias-Himat-Ali’sfingertocrosstheroad.Ihavebecomeincreasinglyfearfulofthetallbrickwallwithitswire-veinedeyes.Todaytheslitventsemanateasteelyreekthatsetsmyteethonedge–andfillsmewithasuperstitiousdread.

HimatAli,too,isuneasy.Hepullsbacksaying:‘Stayhere.Thereissomethingontheotherside.’

Butmyfearofthewallandmycongenitalcuriosityprevail.Itisonlyabulginggunny-sack.Wecrosstheroad.

Theswollengunny-sackliesdirectlyinourpath.Haripushesitwithhisfoot.ThesackslowlytopplesoverandMasseurspillsout–halfonthedustysidewalk,halfonthegrittytarmac–dispellingthestilettoreekofviolencewiththesmelloffreshroses.

Hewaslyingononeside,theupperpartofhisvelvetbodybare,abrownandwhitecheckedlungiknottedonhiships,andhisfeetinthesack.IneverknewMasseurwassofairinside,creamy,andhisarmssmoothanddistendedwithmusclesandhisforearmslinedwithpalebrownhair.Awidewedgeoffleshwasneatlyhackedtofurthertrimhisslenderwaist,andhisspine,inavelvettrough,dippedintohislungi.

TheminuteItouchedhisshoulder,thinkinghemightopenhiseyes,Iknewhewasdead.Buttherewastoomuchvigourabouthimstill…andhisknowingtaperingfingerswiththeirwhitecrescentsandtrimmednailsappearedpliantandreadytoasserttheirconsummateskill.

HimatAli,trembling,suddenlybucklesandsquatsbyMasseurasifsettlingtoalongvigilbyasickfriend.Heremoveshispuggaree,revealinghisshavenbodhi-lesshead,andplacingitonhiskneewipesasmudgeofdustfromMasseur’sshoulder.

‘Oye,pahialwan.Oye,myfriend,’hewhispers.‘Whathavetheydonetoyou?’AndhestrokesMasseur’sarmwithhistremblinghandasifheismassagingMasseur.

Facesbobaroundusnow.Someconcerned,somecurious.ButtheylookatMasseurasifheisnotaperson.

Heisn’t.Hehasbeenreducedtoabody.Athing.Onesideofhishandsomefacealreadyburiedinthedustysidewalk.

Chapter23

BeadonRoad,bereftofthecolourfulturbans,hairybodies,yellowshorts,tightpyjamas,andglitteringreligiousarsenaloftheSikhs,lookslikeanyotherpopulousstreet.Lahoreissuddenlyemptiedofyetanotherhoarydimension:therearenoBrahminswithcaste-marks–orHindusindhotieswithbodhis.OnlyhordesofMuslimrefugees.

EverybitofscrapthatcanbeusedhasbeensalvagedfromtheguttedshopsandtenementsofShalmiandGowalmandi.ThepalatialbungalowsofHindusinModelTownandtheotheraffluentneighbourhoodshavebeenthoroughlyscavenged.Thefirstwaveoflooters,inmobsandprocessions,hascarriedawayfurniture,carpets,utensils,mattresses,clothes.Succeedingwavesofmarauders,ridinginricketycarts,havesystematicallystrippedthehousesofdoors,windows,bathroomfittings,ceilingfansandrafters.Casualpassers-by,urchinsanddogsnowstrayintothehousestoscavengeamidstspiders’websanddeeplayersofdust,hopingtopickupoldnewspapersandcardboardboxes,oranyotherleavingsthathaveescapedtheeyeanddesireoftheprecedingwaveofgoondas.

InRosy-Peter’scompound,andinthegauntlootedhousesoppositeours,untendedgardeniahedgessprawlgrotesquelyandthelawnsandflowerbedsareoverrunwithweeds.Therearepatchesofparchedcrackedclayinwhichnothinggrows.Eventhemangoandbanyantreeslookmonstrous,stalkingtheunkemptpremiseswiththeirshadows.

WestillwanderthroughtheSinghs’annexebutthemainbungalow,theHindudoctor’sabandonedhousebehindtheirs,andparalleltoours,showssurreptitioussignsofoccupation.Awindowboardedwithnewspaper,atatteredcurtain,ashadowofsomeonepassingandthemurmurofstrangers’voiceskeepusaway.

Monthspassbeforeweseeournewneighbours.Frightened,dispossessed,theyarecopingwithgriefoverdeadkinandkidnappedwomenfolk.Gratefulfortheroofovertheirheadsandtheshelterofwalls,ourneighboursdwellinshadowedinteriors,quietlygoingaboutthebusinessofsurviving,terrifiedofbeingagainevicted.

Rosy-Peter’shouseandthehouseoppositestillremainunoccupied.Thesearetobeallottedtorefugeeswhocanprovetheyhaveleftequallyvaluablepropertiesbehind.

Itisastonishinghowrapidlyanuninhabitedhousedecays.TherearecracksinthecementflooroftheSinghs’annexeandbigpatchesofdamponthewalls.Cloudsofmosquitoes

riseindarkcornersandlizardscleavetotheceilings.Itlookslikeahousepiningforitsdeparted–haunted–likeAyah’seyesarebymemoriesofMasseur.Shesecretlycries.OftenIcatchherwipingtears.

Theglossychocolatebloominherskinislosingitssheen.

***

Ayahhasstoppedreceivingvisitors.HerclosestfriendshavefledLahore.Shetrustsnoone.AndMasseur’sdeathhasleftinherthegreatemptyacheIknowsometimeswhenthemusclesofmystomachretractaroundhungryspaceswithinme…butIknowthereisanaddeddimensiontoherlossIcannotcomprehend.Iknowatleastthatmyloverlivessomewhereinthedistantandpossiblefuture:Ihavehope.

ShehauntsthecypressesandmarbleterracesoftheShalimarGardens.SheclimbstheslenderminaretsofJehangir’stomb.Wewanderpastthezoolion’scageandpastthechatteringmonkeysandstandbeforethepeacock’sfeatheryspread.WesitamongtherushesonthebanksoftheRaviandfloatintheflatboatsonitsmuddywaters…AndasMasseur’ssong,lingeringintherarefiedairaroundtheminaretsandinthefragranceofgardens,driftstousintherustleofthepampasgrass,Ayahshiversandwhisperingcroons:

‘Thebumble-beecame–

Struttingamongtheflowers,strumminglove…’

Andholdingtheendofhersariinherhandslikeasupplicant,sheburiesherunbearableacheinherhands.Istrokeherhair.Ikissherears,feelingmyinadequacy.

WhileMasseur’svoicehauntsAyah,itimpelsIce-candy-mantoclimbthesteepstepsoftheminaretsafterus.Heprowlsthehillsbehindthezoolion’scageandlurksinthetallpampasgrass.Hefollowsuseverywhereaswewalk,handinhand,twohungrywombs…Impotentmothersundertheskin.

***

Mother’sjauntsintheMorrisarebecominglessfrequent,andfiresalloverLahorearesubsiding.Orhavingbecomesomuchapartofthesmokingskylinetheynolongerclaimourattention.

Doesonegetusedtoeverything?Anything?

Processionsstillchantfromvariousdistancesandvaryingdirections,buttheyhavelosttheirurgency:soundingmorelikethecriesofmerchantshawkingwares.Closer,weheartherumbleofcartsashorsescanterdownQueensRoadtoMozangChungi,accompaniedbyrecedingcriesof‘Allah-o-Akbar!’and‘PakistanZindabad!’

Weshrug.Theyprobablyhavewindofsomeabandonedhousethathasnotbeenproperlyransacked.Thesemerchant-lootershavebypassedourstreetforsometime.

AndthenonemorningweagainheartherumbleofcartsandtheroarofmenshoutingslogansonWarrisRoad.

FromtheveryfirstinstantIsensedanger:wealldo.Perhapsitisthespeedoftheirapproach:perhapstheaimoftheirintentbuffetingusinthreateningwaves.Thereisaheighteninginthenoiseandashiftintheclatterofhorseshoesonthetarmac:aslowingthatdefinestheirtarget.Itiseitherthehouseinfrontofours,orours.Thehouseopposite,withgapingholeswhereoncethereweredoorsandwindows,hasnothinglefttoloot.

MothercomesoutandjoinsAyah,Adiandmeontheveranda.Theinhabitantsoftheservants’quartersruntothefrontandgatherbeforethekitchenandinthevacantportico.FatherhastakentheMorristowork.Apparentlyunperturbed,ImamDinbeatseggsinthekitchen.

Mother,voluptuousinabeigechiffonsari,isalert.Incharge.Alionesswithhercubs.Ayah,withherhaunted,nervouseyes,islionessnumbertwo.OurprideontheverandaswellsasMoti’swifeandfivechildrenjoinus.

Thereisastampingandsnortingofhorsesandscrapingofwoodenwheelsontheroadasthecart-cavalrycomestoadisorderlyhaltoutsideourgate.Weseethecartsmillingaboutinthedusttheyhaveraised,themenstandinginthem.Wehearthemaskingquestions;debating;shoutingtobeheardabovethenoise.

And,suddenly,themenroaragain:‘Allah-o-Akbar!’Andrideintothehouseoppositeours.

Ayahisnotontheveranda.Shehasdisappeared.

‘Where’sAyah?’Iask.I’mhushedbyahissofwhispers.Mothercommunicatesaquick,secretwarningthatisreflectedonallfaces.AyahisHindu.Thesituationwithallitsimplicationsisclear.Shemusthide.Weallhaveaparttoplay.Myintelligenceandcomplicityaretakenforgranted.

Thentheyareroaringandchargingupourdrive,wheelscreaking,hoovesclatteringasthewhippedhorsesstretchtheirscabbynecksandknottedhockstohaultheloadfortheshortgallop.Upthedrivecomethecharioteers,feetplantedfirmlyinshallowcarts,insingletsandclinginglinenlungis,shouldersgleaminginthebrightsun.Calculatingmen,whoseidealsandpassionshavecooledtoice.

Theypourintoourdriveinanendlesscavalryandthelootersjumpoffinfrontofthekitchenasthecartsmakeroomformorecartsandtheporticoanddrivearefilledwithmenandhorses;someofthehorses’nosesalreadyinthefeedbagsaroundtheirnecks.Themeninfrontarequiet–likemerchantsgoingabouttheirbusiness–butthosestalledinthechokeddriveandontheroadchantperfunctorily.

Themen’seyes,linedwithblackantimony,rakeus.Notethedoorsbehindusandassessthewell-tendedpremiseswithitssurfeitofpotsholdingfernsandpalmfronds.A

hesitancysparksintheirbrasheyeswhentheylookatourmother.Flankedbyhercubs,herhandsrestingonourheads,sheisthenobleembodimentoftheatricalmotherhood.Undaunted.Endearing.Hercut–crystallipssetinadefiantpuckerbeneathhertintedglassesandhercropped,wavedhair.

MengatherroundYousafandHariaskingquestions,peeringhereandthere.PapooandI,holdinghands,stepdownintotheporch.Motherdoesn’tstopus.

Stillbeatingeggs,aluminiumbowlinhand,ImamDinsuddenlyfillstheopenkitchendoorway.Hebellows:‘Whatd’youharamzadasthinkyou’reupto?’Thereisalullintheprocessionists’clamour.Eventhemenontheroadhearhimandsuspendtheirdesultorychanting.ThedoorsnapsshutandImamDinstandsonthekitchenstepslookingbomb-belliedandmagnificentlygoondaish–thegrandfatherofallthegoondasmillingaboutus–withhisshavenhead,hennaedbeardandgrimylungi.

‘WherearetheHindus?’amanshouts.

‘TherearenoHindushere!Younimak-haramdogs’penises…TherearenoHindushere!’

‘ThereareHinduname-platesonthegates…ShankarandSethi!’

‘TheShankarstookofflongago…TheywereHindu.TheSethisareParsee.Iservethem.SethiisaParseenametoo,youignorantbastards!’

ThemenlookdisappointedandsheddingalittleoftheirsuretyandarrogancelookatImamDinasatanelder.ImamDin’smannerchanges.Hedescendsamongthem,bowlandforkinhand,aMussulmanamongMuslims.ImamDin’svoiceislow,conversational.Hegoesintothekitchenandbringsoutalargepanofwaterwithice-cubesfloatinginit.HeandYousafhandoutthewaterinfrostedaluminiumglasses.

‘Where’sHari,thegardener?’someonefromthebackshouts.

‘Hari-the-gardenerhasbecomeHimatAli!’saysImamDin,roaringgeniallyandglancingatthegardener.

HimatAli’sresigned,duskyfacebeginstotwitchnervouslyassomemenmovetowards,him.

‘Let’smakesure,’amansays,hitchinguphislungi,hisswaggeringgaitbentonmischief.‘Undoyourshalwar,HimatAli.Let’sseeifyou’reaproperMuslim.’Heisyoungandveryhandsome.

‘He’sRamzana-the-butcher’sbrother,’saysPapoo,nudgingmeexcitedly.

Inoticetheresemblancetothebutcher.Andthenthemenarenolongerjustfragmentedpartsofaprocession:theybecomeindividualpersonalitieswhosefacesIstudy,seekingfriends.

ImamDinisstandinginfrontofthegardener,hisarmsoutstretched.‘Getaway!Ivouchforhim.Whydon’tyouaskthebarber?Hecircumcisedhim.’

SomeoneyellsinloudPunjabi:‘Oyay,nai!Didyoucircumcisethegardenerhere?’

Fromoutontheroad,transmittedbyachainofraucousvoices,comesthereply:‘Ididagoodjobonhim…I’llvouchforHimatAli!’

Thehandsomeyouth,cheatedoutofhisbitoffun,triestolungepastImamDin.

‘TellhimtorecitetheKalma,’someoneshouts.

‘Oye!You!RecitetheKalma,’saystheyouth.

‘LaIlahaIllallah,MohammadurRasulullah.’(ThereisnoGodbutGod,andMohammadisHisprophet.)Astonishingly,HimatAliinjectsintotheArabicversethecadenceandintonationofHinduchants.

Themenletitpass.

‘Whereisthesweeper?Where’sMoti?’shoutsahoarsePunjabivoice.ItsoundsfamiliarbutIcan’tplaceit.

‘He’shere,’saysYousaf,puttinganarmroundMoti.‘He’sbecomeabeliever…AChristian.Behold…MisterDavidMasih!’

Themensmileandjoke:‘Oho!He’sbecomeablack-facedgen-tle-man!MistersweeperDavidMasih!Nexthe’llbesailingofftoEng-a-landandmarryingamemsahib!’

Andthensomeoneasks,‘Where’stheHinduwoman?Theayah!’

Thereisasplit-second’ssilencebeforeImamDin’sreassur-ingvoicecalmlysays;‘She’sgone.’

‘She’sgonenowhere!Whereisshe?’

‘Itoldyou.SheleftLahore.’

‘When?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘He’slying,’saysthefamiliarvoiceagain.‘Oye,ImamDin,whyareyoulying?’

Irecognisethevoice.ItisButcher.

‘Oye,BarayMian!Don’tdisgraceyourvenerablebeard!’

‘Forshame,oldman!AndyousoclosetomeetingyourMaker!’

‘Lyingdoesnotbecomeyouryears,youoldgoat.’

Theraucousvoicesareturningugly.

‘CalluponAllahtowitnessyouroath,’someonesays.

‘Oye!Badmash!Don’ttakeAllah’sname!Youdefileitwithyourtongue!’saysImamDinlosinghisgeniality.

‘Ha!Soyouwon’ttakeanoathbeforeAllah!You’reablack-facedliar!’

‘Mindyourtongue,youdog!’shoutsImamDin.

Othervoicesjoinintheattackand,suddenly,veryclearly,Ihearhimsay:‘Allah-ki-kasam,she’sgone.’

Istudythemen’sfacesinthesilencethatfollows.Someofthemstilldon’tbelievehim.Someturnaway,orlookattheground.ItisanoathaMuslimwillnottakelightly.

Somethingstrangehappenedthen.Thewholedisorderlymêléedissolvedandconsolidatedintoasingleface.Theface,amber-eyed,spreadbeforeme:hypnotic,reassuring,blottingouttheuglyfrighteningcrowd.Ice-candy-man’sversatilefacetransformedintoasaviour’sinourhourofneed.

Ice-candy-maniscrouchedbeforeme.‘Don’tbescared,Lennybaby,’hesays.‘I’mhere.’Andputtinghisarmsaroundmehewhispers,sothatonlyIcanhear:‘I’llprotectAyahwithmylife!YouknowIwill…Iknowshe’shere.Whereisshe?’

AnddredgingfromsomefoultruthfuldepthinmeafragmentofoverheardconversationthatIhadnotregisteredatthetime,Isay:‘Ontheroof–orinoneofthegodowns…’

Ice-candy-man’sfaceundergoesasubtlechangebeforemyeyes,andasheslowlyuncoilshislankframeintoanuprightposition,IknowIhavebetrayedAyah.

Thenewsisswiftlytransmitted.InadazeIseeMotherapproach,herfacestricken.AdiandPapoolookatmeoutofstunnedfaces.Thereisnojudgementintheireyes–noreproach–onlystone-facedincredulity.

ImamDinandYousafaretakingsmallstepsback,theirarmsspread,asthreementrytopushpast.‘Where’reyougoing?Youcan’tgototheback!Ourwomenarethere,theyobservepurdah!’saysImamDin,againfutilelylying.Themenarenotaggressive,theirgameisathand.Itisonlyamatterofminutes.AndwhilethethreemeninsouciantlyconfrontImamDinandYousaf,othermen,eyesaverted,slippastthem.

IcannotseeButcher.Ice-candy-mantoohasdisappeared.

‘No!’Iscream.‘She’sgonetoAmritsar!’

ItrytorunafterthembutMotherholdsme.Ibuttmyheadintoher,bouncingitoffherstomach,andeverytimeIthrowmyheadback,IseeAdiandPapoo’sstunnedfaces.

ThethreemenshovepastImamDinandsomethingabouttheirinsolentanddeterminedmovementsaffectstheproprietiesthathaverestrainedthemobsofar.

Theymoveforwardfromallpoints.Theyswarmintoourbedrooms,searchtheservants’quarters,climbtotheroofs,breaklocksandenterourgodownsandthesmallstore-roomsnearthebathrooms.

TheydragAyahout.Theydragherbyherarmsstretchedtaut,andherbarefeet–thatwanttomovebackwards–areforcedforwardinstead.Herlipsaredrawnawayfromherteeth,andtheresistingcurveofherthroatopenshermouthlikethedeadchild’sscreamlessmouth.Hervioletsarislipsoffhershoulder,andherbreastsstrainathersari-blousestretchingtheclothsothatthewhitestitchingattheseamsshows.Asleevetearsunderherarm.

Themendragheringrotesquestridestothecartandtheirharshhands,supportingherwithcarelessintimacy,liftherintoit.Fourmenstandpressedagainsther,proppingherbodyupright,theirlipsstretchedintriumphantgrimaces.

Iamthemonkey-man’sperformingmonkey,thetrainedcircuselephant,thesnake-man’scharmedcobra,ananimalwithconditionedreflexesthatcannotlie…

ThelastthingInoticedwasAyah,hermouthslackandpiteouslygaping,herdishevelledhairflyingintoherkidnappers’faces,staringatusasifshewantedtoleavebehindherwide-openandterrifiedeyes.

Chapter24

Theeveningsresoundtothebeatofdrums.Papooisgettingmarried.Inthewakeofmyguilt-drivenandflagellatinggriefandpiningforAyahthedrumssoundmournful,andthepreparationsfortheweddingjoyless.

ForthreedaysIstandinfrontofthebathroommirrorstaringatmytongue.Iholdthevile,truth-infectedthingbetweenmyfingersandtrytowrenchitout:butslipperyandslickasafishitslipsfrommyfingersandmocksmewithitssharprapiertipdartingaspoisonousasasnake.Ipunishitwithrigorousscouringsfrommypricklingtoothbrushuntilitissoreandbleeding.I’msoconsciousofitsunwelcomepresenceatalltimesthatitswellsun-comfortablyinmymouthandgagsandchokesme.

Ithrowup.Constantly.

Forthreedays,asIscourmytongue,familiesofsweepers,huddledinbunches,ingaudysatinsandbrocades,driftupourdrive,andpastthebathroomwindow.Thewomenshadetheirduskyfacesbeneathdiaphanousshawlswithsilverfringes,theirglassbanglesandsilverankletsjinglingastheyshuffletheirfeet,themenstruttingamidstthemlikecocksintall,crisplycrestedturbans.

Attheback,ontheservants’verandas,twooldcroneswithmissingteethtaketurnsbeatingasausage-shapeddrumwithbothhandsanddroningribaldditties.Papoo,cowedbyalltheunwontedattention,sitsgloweringinacorneroftheirquarterslikeapunishedchild,herskinglowingfrommustard-oilmassagesandapplicationsofturmericandMultanimud-packs.Sometimes,whenIsitlistlesslybyherholdingherhand,smilingpolitelyattheremarksandwisecracksofthewomen,drawingcouragefrommyfingersPapoo’seyesregaintheirroguishsparkleandshesnapsandlungesatthewomen,andflingingherselfonthedirtfloorenactstemptestuoustantrumsofprotestation.Infuriatedbyherdaughter’sintractablebehaviourbeforeherkinswomenMuccholashesoutandiswithdrawncursing,whiletheremainingwomen,wheedling,cajolingandbribingPapoowithsweets,restorehertoaprecarioussemblanceofdocility.

Ayahlessandsore-tonguedIdriftthroughtheforlornroomsofmyhouse,andbackandforthfromthefestivequarters.Thekitchenhasbecomeadepressinghell-holefilledwithsighsasImamDingoesabouthisworkspirit-lessly.EvenYousafcrackshissmileslessfrequently.Motherisoutallday.AndwhensheishomeshehassuchaforbiddingexpressiononherexhaustedfacethatAdiandIelecttokeepoutofherway.

WithnoonetoawakenmeIsleeplateonthemorningofPapoo’swedding.ItisSaturday:exactlyaweekfromthedayAyahwascarriedoff.Aditugsmytoesoithurtsandsays:‘Aren’tyougettingup?Theguestshavecome…thebridegroom’sbaraatwillbeheresoon!’

Iquicklyslipintoastifflystarchedandfrothyfrockandputonmywhitesocksandbuckledshoesandruntotheback.

Thecaterershavealreadylitlogfiresbeneathtwoenormouscauldronsandthesultryairispermeatedbythearomaofbiryaniandspicygoatkorma.Iweavethroughthemaleguestssquattinglikepatientsheepoutsidethescantlemonhedgethatdemarcatestheservants’courtyard.Theyarditselfisthrongedbywomeninbrightsatinsedgedwithgoldandsilvergota.Thecrowdisthickoutsidethesweeper’squartersandIhavetosqueezemywaythroughtheknotofwomenatthedoor.Butevenaftermyeyesgetaccustomedtothedingylightinthesmall,squaredung-plasteredroomittakesmeawhiletorealisethatthecrumpledheapofscarletandgoldclothesflungcarelesslyinacornerisreallyPapoo.Isquatbyher,smilingandawkward,and,liftingherghoongat,peerintoherface.Shehasanenviablequantityofmake-upon.Shocking-pinklipstick,whitepowder,smudgedkohl:andsheisfastasleep.

Thereisastiramongtheseatedwomenandasuddenairofexcitement.Someoneoutsideshouts:‘TotaRam’sbaraathascome!’

IshakePapoo:‘Wakeup…Comeon!’Papoositsup,shovingherghoongatbackdrowsily,andlooksatmewithastrangecock-eyedgrin,asifsheisdrunk.

Irunoutwiththerestoftheimmediatekintoreceivethebaraatjustasthebridegroom’spartyentersourgatesandthesix-manband,infadedreduniformswithtarnishedgoldbraid,burstsintobrassyclamour.Iglimpsetheshortbridegroombehindthemusicians,bobbingamongthemenintheentourage.Thewomen,someonfoot,somecrammedintotongaswiththeirbabies,follow.Thegroomiswearingapurplesatinlungiandalong,whitelygleamingsatinshirt.Hischestisbristlingwithgarlandscentredwithgold-beribbonedcardboardheartsandstrungwithcrisp,newone-rupeenotesandflowers.Hisheadiscoveredbyathickwhiteturbanwithagoldkulahandbeneathithangsthesehra,veilinghisfacewithchainsofmarigolds.Judgingbyhisheight,TotaRammustbePapoo’sage–aboutelevenortwelve.Iamconfused.ThedistraughtwayMucchocarriedonwhenPapoowasoffherfeedledmetobelievethatTotaRamwasanimportant,frighteningandgrownman.

ThegroomisledintoHari’squarters,whichhavebeenclearedoftheirmeagrebelongingstoreceivehim.Nowthecuriouswomensurgetoseethedoolha.Ifightmywayinwiththem.Heissittingstraightonahigh-backedchair,hislegsdanglingbrand-newtwo-toneshoes.

Somethingabouthisgesturesdisturbsme:thewayheshiftsinthechair,themannerinwhichheinsertshishandbehindtheticklingflowerstoscratchhisnose.Hesneezes–anunexpectedlyviolentsound–and,snortingwetly,clearshisthroat.ForamomentIwonderifsomeoneolderisresponsibleforthesounds.Theydon’tbelongbehindthesehra.Againthebridegroomsneezes:somightilythatthesehraswingsout.ThenhepartsthecurtainofflowershangingfromhisheadandIseehisface!

Heisnoboy!Heisadark,middle-agedmanwithapockmark-pittedfaceandsmall,brash,kohl-blackenedeyes.Hehasaninsouciantairofinsolenceabouthim–asthoughitisallatediousbusinesshehasbeenthroughbefore.Icannottakemyeyesoffhimashescrutinisesthewomenwithassertive,assessingdirectness.Thereisaslightcastintheclosesetofhiseyes,andthesmirklurkingabouthisthin,drylipsgivesanimpressionofcruelty.Thewomenintheroombecomehushed.Heshiftshisinsolenteyestotheceiling,asifpermittingthewomentogapeuponhisunsavouryperson,andthenlowershissehra.

Aftertheinitialshock,twoorthreeolderwomenfromPapoo’sfamilypullthemselvestogetherandmoveforwardtogreetandblesshimasisrituallyrequired.Theelderlyandcynicaldwarfpermitstheirembracesandthensitsback,hisspreadlegsswingingcarelessly,andthewomen,someofthemtitteringinashockedwaybehindthefingersscreeningtheirmouths,resumetheirchattering.Iremainrootedtothedirtfloor,unabletoremovemyeyesfromhim,imaginingtheshock,andthegrotesquepossibilitiesawaitingPapoo.

***

Isitquietlybesidethebride.Thewomenfromthegroom’sfamilyliftherghoongatandcommentindulgentlyontheinnocencethatpermitsthechild-bridetosleepthroughhermarriage.Bendingfrequently,steppingoverthesatinyspreadoflegsandthighsofabouttwentywomenjammedtogetheronthefloor,theyexhibitanimpressivedisplayoftheclothesandthetawdryjewellerytheyhavebroughtforthebrideandhermother.

Alittleafternoontwoenormousroundcopperplatters,heapedwithfragrantpilafandgoatcurry,arebroughtintotheroom.Thewomengatheraroundthemandsilentlyfalltoeating.Thecaterersprovideaseparatechinaplateforthebride.Mucchoshakesherdaughterawake,urging:‘Come,doll,situpandeat,doll.’IstudyMuccho’sfacéwithcuriouseyes.Thereisacontentedsmileonherlips–smugandvindicated.

AsPapoostrugglesgroggilytositup,hereyesswivelweaklyunderherhalf-openlids.Mucchoshakesherroughlyagain,andformingsmallmorselsofricewithherfingers,strokingPapoo’sback,feedsher.Papoochewsslowly,absently,herchildish,lipstickedmouthslack.‘Oi,dopey.Ufeemi!Wakeup!’saysMucchoaffectionately.Andthoughthetoneofvoicecallingheranopium-addictisdisarminglyfacetious,itsuddenlystrikesmethatPapoohasinfactbeendrugged.Ihaveseenenoughopiumaddictstorealisethis.MrBankwalla’sandCol.Bharucha’scooksarebothaddicted.

Towardseveningthedoolhaisbroughtintotheroomandmadetositbyhiscomatosebride.Hekeepshisfacecoveredbythesehra,butbythewayhisheadshiftsIcantellheisslylyoglingmeandtheyoungwomenmovingabouttheroom.

LaterintheafternoontheMissionpadrestandsinthedoorinhislongblackcassockwithahigh,whitecollar.Hisheavylaced-upbootsappearincongruouswithhisflowinggarments.Hishairiscroppedveryshortandhehasawell-bredandtimidexpressiononhishumbleface.Iwonderifheisthepadrewhosewifeabscondedwiththeseductivetailor.

Thewomenhugtheirkneesandshufflebacktomakeroomforhispassageasthepadre,accustominghiseyestothedark,stepshesitantlyintoMoti’squarters.Holdinghisgilt-edgedBibleandrosarydeferentiallyhemakesthesignofthecrossandsquatsbeforethecouple.PapooisshakenawakeandsurreptitiouslyproppedupbyMucchoasthepadrerecitestheChristianmarriagelitanyinPunjabi.

Chapter25

Therearemysteriousdevelopmentsafootintheservants’quartersbehindtheHindudoctor’shouseparallelingours.ThecourtyardhasbeenwalledoffandaverytallandburlySikhwithcurlinghaironhislegsstandsguardoutsideahigh,tin-sheetgate,criss-crossedwithwoodenbeams.Thereisapadlockthesizeofagrapefruitonthegate,andalargekeyhangsfromthesteelbanglearoundtheSikh’swrist.Heunlocksthegatesometimestopassthewomeninsidesacksofgrainandbasketsofvegetables.

Theservantsevadequestionsasifthereissomethingshamefulgoingon.Cousin,AdiandIareagog.AndonaSundayafternoon–itisalreadyOctober–wesneakupthestairsand,mindingtheholesintheroof,tiptoetolookintotheenclosedcourtyard.Ourservants’quarters’roofrunsinacontinuouslineofclaytotheirroof,demarcatedonlybyafoot-highbrickwall.

Weassumeit’sawomen’sjail,eventhoughtheylookinnocentenough–villagewomenwashingclothes,crossingthecourtyardwithwatercanisters,chaffingwheatanddryingrawmangoesforpickling.Thereisverylittlechatteramongthewomen.Justapatheticmovementstoandfro.

TheSikhguardsquatsinfrontofasmallwatertankinhiswhitecottondrawers,scouringhisteethwithawalnuttwig.Hemusthavejustwashedhishairbecauseitisflungroundhisnecklikeacoarsescarftokeepitfromtrailinginthemud.

Theguardspotsusontheroofandglowersferociously.Ashestandsuphishairuncoilsandhangsdownalmosttohisknees.Wescamperfromhisviewlikescaredspiders,carefulnottofallthroughtheholeswherethemudhasgivenwaybetweenthedecayingrafters.

Afterawhile,takingcaretotreadquietlyandnotdaringtotalk,wepeerbetweentheraftersintothedim,smoke-filledcubicles.Ifeelanervous,nauseousthrill,asImakeoutthedarkshapesofwomeninshalwar-kamizesmovinglethargicallybetweentheircots.Inoneofthecubiclesathinlongfacelooksupunseeingthroughtheveilofsmokeandtheeeriedesolationofthatpallidfaceremainsstampedonmymind.

***

TheHindudoctor’shousesounobtrusivelyoccupiedbyournewrefugeeneighbourssprawlsinanungainlyoblongblockbetweenthewomen’sjailandRosy-Peter’sannexe.

Itscementplastershowsbeneathscabsofpeelingwhitewash.Idon’tknowhowmanypeopledwellintheabandonedbungalow,butthenumberofitsoccupantsappearstobeincreasing.Thereismoremovementbehindthewindowsboardedupwithcardboardandnewspaper,agreaterfrequencyandlaxityinthesuddenshoutingandsubduedchatter.

Westilldon’tknowanythingaboutthem.Whotheyare,wherethey’refrom.Theykeeptothemselves,unobtrusivelyconductingtheirlives,lurkinglikenightanimalsinthetwilightinteriorsoftheirlairs,stillafraidofbeingevictedfrompropertytheyhavesomehowmanagedtooccupy.

***

Thewomanispullingafadedkamizethatistooshortforheroverawash-greyedshalwar.HerheadiscoveredbyafrayedvoilechuddarandsheisstandingbeforeMother,awkwardanduncomfortablytall.IrecogniseherthemomentIseeher.Hereyesaredowncastandanervous,apologeticsmile–thatismorelikeatwitch–jerksaboutherlips.Ifeelasurgeofpanic.DoesMotherknowshe’sinterviewingacriminaltoreplaceAyah?ButthereisaqualitysoanxiousanddespairingaboutthenarrowpallidfacethatIconcealmyknowledge.Iwouldrathertrustmyselftothedangerouscareofthejailbirdthanbetrayher:sostrongisthedragofguiltandcompassionshehasexertedonme.ShelooksatMotheroutofappealingeyes.Docile.Readytoplease.Soinneed.Servilelymurmuring:‘Yes,jee,Iwilldoeverything…Anythingyouwant.’

‘Thesearedecentfolk,mindyou!They’renotthekindthatletflydog-and-catabuses,’interjectsImamDingruffly,leaningagainstMother’sbedroomdoorwiththeproprietoryairofanelderlyandpamperedflunkey.‘You’llbelookedafterifyouworkproperly.’

Heisastransparentasme.Hecannothidehispity.

‘Iamnotfrightenedofwork,brother,’saysthewomaninthicklyaccented,villagePunjabi.‘Iwillsweep,clean,milkthebuffalo,churnthebutter,washclothes,cleanoutlatrines,makechapatties…Afterall,I’vebeenahousewife.’

Shestopsspeakingabruptlyandlooksunaccountablyguiltyandevenmorebashful.Suddenly,foldingherknees,shehunkersdownonthebedroomflooranddrawsherchuddarforwardoverherface.

‘Youwon’tneedtodoanyofthat!’saysMother.Sheindicatesmewithherglance.‘Here’syourcharge.AllIwantyouforisthecareofthechildren…Don’tletthemoutofyoursight.’

ThewomanswivelsonherheelsandgazesintomyeyessointenselythatIfeelitisI,andnotMother,whoisempoweredtoemployher.Thejerkysmileaboutherlipsdistendsfearfully.‘Iwillguardherlikethepupilsinmyeyes,’shesays.‘Don’tIknowhowcarefulonehastobewithyounggirls?Especiallythesedays!’Hertoneofvoiceandchoiceof

words–asofvillagewomenutteringplatitudes–isgrotesqueintheobviouslystraitenedandabnormalcircumstancesofherlife.

Wecallherbyhername,Hamida.Wecan’tbeartocallherAyah.

***

LookingforAyah.WearealllookingforAyah.MotherandElectric-aunt,headstogether,gogoos-goosingandwhispering,contortingtheirfacesinstrangeandsolemnways.Andwhentheyseeustheyhushanddramaticallyaltertheirfierceexpressions.Theirreassembled,we-were-just-talking-of-this-and-thatfeaturesfrightenmemorethanthenewstheyareattemptingtospareme.

Fatheronceagaincyclestowork,leavingtheMorrisforMother.Electric-auntandMotherdriveoff,comeback,andareoffagainwithsuchfrequencyandurgencythatIachewithexpectationandshatteredhopeeachtimeIanxiouslylookintothereturningAyah-lesscar.

SharbatKhanreturnsfromthehillsandHari,aliasHimatAli,squattingonhistremblinghaunchesandweepingshamelessly,tellshim:‘Hesprangatmeoutofagunny-sack,dead!’Andwipinghistearingeyessays,‘Thedeadbastard!Didn’theknowshe’dbealone?’

Wrappedinablanket,turbanwoundroundhismouth,SharbatKhancyclesupforlow-voicedconversationswithImamDinandYousaf.Herattlesaway–sometimesaccompaniedbyYousaf–andthewaytheirlegspedal,andthewaytheyleanintothewind,IcantelltheyarelookingforAyah.

SharbatKhanlooksdifferent.Histigereyesaregrimandbloodshot.Hedriveshisfoothardonthepedalofhismachineandexaminestheedgesofthekniveshesharpensasthoughhewillusethemtokillusall.SometimeshelooksatmeasifheistryingtoprobemysoulandsearchouttheaberrationsinmypersonalitythatmademebetrayAyah.Thenheshakeshisheadandbitterlysays:‘ChildrenaretheDevil…Theyonlyknowthetruth.’

Icannolongerlookintohiseyes.

***

HamidakeepsherbowedheadcoveredandhereyesavertedfromFather.Sheshufflesandpivotsawkwardlyonherlonglegs,hunchinghernarrowshouldersmeekly,carefulnottooffendanyonebyherunusualheight.

Hamidahastobetrainedfromscratch.YousafteachesherhowtomakebedsthewayMotherlikes.Mothershowsherhowtostackclothesintidypilesincupboards,howtowashwoollensanddrythemonspreadtowels.Hamidahasneverusedaniron.Sheneverdoes.Sheissoterrifiedofelectricitythatshedoesn’tevenswitchonthelights–until

Cousinshowsherhowtowithawoodenclotheshanger,which,itisdinnedintoherhead,makeshershock-proof.

WetellherwhereourthingsgoandMothershowsherhowtobatheusandmassagemylegs.

Ibarelylimpnow.

HamidahastoberestrainedfromlatchingontoMotherandmassagingandpummellingherlimbswhenevershefindsMothersitting,sewingorreadinginbed.Hamidadoesn’tknowwhattodowithherhandsinMother’spresence.And,whenidle,influtteringpanictheyreachoutandmassagewhoeverisathand.Adiwigglesandslipsawayfromhergrasp.Or,ifsheistooinsistent,kicksout.Iletherhandshavetheirwillwithmeandtolerateherirksomecaress.SheislikeastarvedandgroundedbirdandIcan’tbeartohurther.

Sometimeshereyesfillandthetearsrolldownhercheeks.Once,whenIsmoothedherhairback,shesuddenlystartedtoweep,andnoticingmyconsternationexplained:‘Whentheeyeiswounded,evenascentedbreezehurts.’

***

HamidacomestofetchmefromMrsPen’s.Whenweareclosetothehouse,shecasuallysays:‘ImamDinhasguests…Poorthings:theyhavesufferedalot…TheSikhsattackedtheirvillage.’

‘Wherearetheyfrom?’Iask,mypulsequickening.

‘PirPindo…orsomesuchvillage.’

IleaveherhandandasIruntowardsthehouseIhearhervoicetryingtorestrainme.‘Becareful,Lennybaby,’shecries.‘Waitforme!’Andsherunsafterme.Myheartbeatingwildly,Irunintotheservants’courtyard.

Asmallboy,sopainfullythinthathiskneesandelbowsappearswollen,issquattingafewfeetawayconcentratingonstrikingamarblelyinginanotchinthedust.Heiswearingragged,draw-stringshortsofthincottonandthedirtycordtyingthemingathersroundhiswaisttrailsinthemud.Hisaimscores,andheturnstolookatme.Hisfaceisapatchworkofbrownandblackskin;awizenedblemish.Hestartstogetup,showinghisteethinacrookedsmile;andwithashockIrecogniseRanna.Hislimbsareblackandbrittle;thecircularprotrusionofhiswindpipeandribssoskeletalthatIcanseethepassageofairinhisthroatandlungs.Heiscoveredwithwelts;asifhisbodyhasbeenchoppedup,andthenwelded.Heseesmyhorrorandwinces,turningaway.‘Ranna,’Isay,movingquicklytotouchhim.‘Ranna!Whathappenedtoyou?’Ican’thelpit;Ilookattheuglyscabwherehisbelly-buttonusedtobe.Hestaresatmehisfacecrumbling.And,aswheelingabruptly,herunsintoImamDin’squarters,Iseetheimprobablewoundonthe

backofhisshavedhead.Itisagrislyscarlikeabrutallygougedandprematurebaldspot.Intimethewoundacquiredtheshapeofafour-day-oldcrescentmoon.

Ialmostliveinthequarters.Hamidasitswithusforshortperiods,andwhenshepullsRannatoherlapandhepressesagainsther,herdisorderlyhandsgrowtranquil.Ionlygotothehousetosleep.IeatmymealsinImamDin’squarters,relishingeverythingRanna’sNonichachicooks.That’swhentheytalk–usingplainPunjabiwordsandgraphicpeasantgestures–Ranna,bitbybit,describingtheattackonPirPindo,Nonichachirecountingherpartinthestory,andIqbalchachainterveningwithclarification,conjectureandcomment.Itishardtograspthattheeventstheydescribetookplaceonlyacoupleofmonthsago…that,likeRanna,PirPindoisbrutallyaltered…thathisfamily,asIknewit,hasceasedtoexist…

***

Noonerealisedthespeedatwhichthedestructionandtherampageadvanced.Theydidn’tknowtheextenttowhichitsurroundedthem.JagjeetSinghvisitedPirPindoundercoverofdarknesswithfurtivegroupsofSikhs.AfewmorefamilieswhohadclosekinnearMultanandLahoreleft,disguisedasSikhsorHindus.Butmostofthevillagersresistedthemove.Theuncertaintytheyfacedmadethemdiscreditthedanger.‘Wecannotleave,’theysaid,and,likearefrain,Icanhearthemsay:‘Whatfacewillweshowourforefathersonthedayofjudgementifweabandontheirgraves?Allahwillprotectus!’

JagjeetSinghsentwordhewasriskinghislife,andthelivesoftheothermeninDeraTekSingh,ifhevisitedPirPindoagain.TheAkaliswereawareofhissympathiesfortheMuslims.Theyhadthreatenedhim.Theywereincontrolofhisvillage.

JagjeetSinghadvisedthemtoleaveassoonastheycould:butitwasalreadytoolate.

Ranna’sstory

Latethatafternoontheclamourofthemonsoondownpoursuddenlyceased.Chiddaraisedherhandsfromthedoughshewaskneadingand,squattingbeforethebrasstray,turnedtohermother-in-law.SittingbyhisgrandmotherRannasensedtheirtensionastheoldwomanstoppedchaffingthewheat.Sheslowlypushedbackherage-brittlehairand,holdingherknobbyfingersimmobile,grewabsolutelystill.

Chiddastoodintheirnarrowdoorway,hereyesnervouslyscouringthecourtyard.Rannaclungtohershalwar,peeringout.Hiscousins,almostnakedintheirsoakingrags,wereshoutingandsplashingintheslushintheircourtyard.‘Shutup.Oye!’Chiddashoutedinavoicethatrushedsoviolentlyfromherstrongchestthatthechildrenquietenedatonceandleanedandsliduneasilyagainstthewarmblackhidesofthebuffaloestetheredtotheroughstumps.Thecloudshadbrokenandthesunshotbeamsthatlitupthefreshlybathedcourtyard.

Theothermembersofthehousehold,Ranna’solderbrothers,hisuncles,auntsandcousinswerequietlyfilingintothecourtyard.WhenshesawKhatijaandParveen,Chiddastrodetoherdaughtersandpressedthemfiercelytoherbody.Thevillagewassoquietitcouldbethemiddleofthenight:andfromthedistance,buffetingtheheavy,moisture-ladenair,camethewailsandthehoarsevoicesofmenshouting.

Alreadytheirneighbours’turbansskimmedthetallmudrampartsoftheircourtyard,theirbarefeetsquelchingonthepaththerainhadturnedintoamuddychannel.

Icanimaginetheoldmullah,combinghisfadedbeardwithtremblingfingersashewatchesthevillagersconvergeonthemosquewithitsunevengreendome.Itisperchedonanincline;andseenfromtherethefields,floodedwithrain,arethesamemuddycolourasthehuts.Themullahdragshiscotforwardasthevillagers,touchingtheirforeheadsandgreetinghimsombrely,filltheprayerground.Thechaudhryjoinsthemullahonhischarpoy.Thevillagerssitontheirhaunchesinunevenrowsliftingtheirconfusedandfrightenedfaces.Thereisamurmurofvoices.Conjectures.Firstthenameofonevillageandthenofanother.TheSikhshaveattackedKot-Rahim.No,itsoundscloser…ItmustbeMakipura.

Thechaudhryraiseshisheavyvoiceslightly:‘DostMohammadandhispartywillbeheresoon…We’llknowsoonenoughwhat’sgoingon.’

Athisreassuringpresencethemurmuringsubsidesandthevillagersnervouslysettledowntowait.Somewomendrawtheirveilsacrosstheirfacesand,shadingtheirbosoms,impatientlyshovetheirnipplesintothemouthsofwhimperingbabies.Grandmothers,mothersandauntsrockrestivechildrenontheirlapsandthumptheirforeheadstoputthemtosleep.Thechildren,conditionedtothenumbingjolts,growgroggyandtheireyesbecomeun-focused.Theyfallasleepalmostatonce.

Halfanhourlaterthescoutingparty,drenchedandmuddy,thelowerhalvesoftheirfaceswrappedintheendsoftheirturbans,picktheirwaythroughthesquattingvillagerstothechaudhry.

Removinghiswetpuggareeandwipinghisheadwithacloththemullahhandshim,DostMohammadturnsonhishaunchestofacethevillagers.Hisskinisgrey,asiftherainhasbleachedthecolour.Castingashadeacrosshiseyeswithahandthattremblesslightly,speakinginamatter-of-factvoicethatdisguiseshisacheandfear,hetellsthevillagersthattheSikhshaveattackedatleastfivevillagesaroundDehraMisri,totheireast.Theirnumbershaveswollenenormously.Theyarelikeswarmsoflocusts,movinginmaraudingbandsofthirtyandfortythousand.TheyarekillingallMuslims.Settingfires,looting,paradingtheMuslimwomennakedthroughthestreets–rapingandmutilatingtheminthecentreofvillagesandinmosques.TheBias,floodedbymeltingsnow,andthemonsoon,iscarryinghundredsofcorpses.Thereisanintolerablestenchwherethebodies,caughtinthebends,havepiledup.

‘Whatarethepolicedoing?’amanshouts.HeisDostMohammad’scousin.Onewayoranotherthevillagersarerelated.

‘TheMuslimsintheforcehavebeendisarmedattheordersofaHinduSub-Inspector;thedog’spenis!’saysDostMohammad,speakinginthesameflatmonotone.‘TheSikhandHindupolicehavejoinedthemobs.’

Thevillagersappearvisiblytoshrink–asifthelossofhopeisaphysicalthing.Awomanwithachildonherlapslapsherforeheadandbeginstowail:‘Hai!Hai!’Theotherwomenjoinher:‘Hai!Hai!’Olderwomen,beatingtheirbreastslikehollowdrums,cry,‘Nevermindus…savetheyounggirls!Thechildren!Hai!Hai!’

Ranna’stwo-toothedoldgrandmother,herfrailvoicequaveringbitterly,shrieks:‘WeshouldhavegonetoPakistan!’

Itwashardtobelievethatthedecisiontostaywastakenonlyamonthago.EmbeddedintheheartofthePunjab,theyhadfeltsecure,inviolate.Andtouprootthemselvesfromthesoiloftheirancestorshadseemedtothemakintotearingthemselves,likeancienttrees,fromtheearth.

Andthemessagesfilteringfromtheoutsidehadbeenreassuring.Gandhi,Nehru,Jinnah,TaraSinghweretellingthepeasantstoremainwheretheywere.Theminoritieswouldbeasacredtrust…Thecommunaltroublewasbeingcausedbyafewmischief-makersandwouldsoonsubside–andthenthereweretheirbrothers,theSikhsofDeraTekSingh,whowouldprotectthem.

ButhowmanyMuslimscantheSikhvillagersbefriend?Themobs,determinedtodrivetheMuslimsout,arepreparedforthecarnage.TheirranksswollenbythousandsofrefugeesrecountingfreshtalesofhorrortheyrolltowardsPirPindoliketheheedlessswellsofanocean.

Thechaudhryraiseshisvoice:‘Howmanygunsdowehavenow?’

Thewomenquieten.

‘Sevenoreight,’amanrepliesfromthefront.

Thereisadisappointedsilence.Theyhadexpectedtoprocuremoregunsbuteveryvillageisholdingontoitsmeagrestockofweapons.

‘Wehaveouraxes,knives,scythesandstaves!’amancallsfromtheback.‘Letthosebastardscome.We’reready!’

‘Yes…we’reasreadyaswe’lleverbe,’thechaudhrysays,strokinghisthickmoustache.‘Youallknowwhattodo…’

Theyhavebeenovertheplanoftenenoughrecently.Thewomenandgirlswillgatheratthechaudhry’s.Ratherthanfacethebrutalityofthemobtheywillpourkerosenearoundthehouseandburnthemselves.Thecanistersofkerosenearealreadystoredinthebarnat

therearofthechaudhry’ssprawlingmudhouse.TheyoungmenwillengagetheSikhsatthemosque,andatotherstrategiclocations,foraslongastheycanandgivethewomenachancetostartthefire.

Afewmenfromeachfamilyweretoshepherdtheyoungerboysandlockthemselvesintosecludedbackrooms,hopingtoescapedetection.Theywerepeaceablepeasants,notskilledinsuchmatters,andtheirplansweresketchyandoptimistic.Comfortedbyeachother’spresence,reluctanttodisperse,thevillagersremainedintheprayeryardasduskgatheredaboutthem.Thedistantwailingandshoutinghadceased.Laterthatnightitrainedagain,andcomfortedbyitsseasonalsplatterthetiredvillagerscurledupontheirmatsandslept.

Theattackcameatdawn.Thewatchfromthemosque’ssingleminarethurtleddownthewindingstepstospreadthealarm.Thepanickedwomenrantoandfroscreamingandsnatchinguptheirbabies,andthemenbarelyhadtimetogettotheirposts.InfifteenminutesthevillagewasswampedbytheSikhs–tallmenwithstreaminghairandthickbicepsandthighs,wavingfull-sizedswordsandsten-guns,roaring,‘BolaysoNihal!SatSiriAkal!’

Theymoweddownthevillagersinthemosquewiththesten-guns.Shouting‘Allah-o-Akbar!’thepeasantsdiedofswordandspearwoundsintheslushylanesandcourtyards,thescreamsofwomenfromthechaudhry’shouseringingintheirears,wonderingwhythehousewasnotburning.

Ranna,abandonedbyhismotherandsistershalfwaytothechaudhry’shouse,ranhowlingintothecourtyard.Chiddahadspankedhisheadandpushedhimaway,shrieking,‘Gotoyourfather!Staywiththemen!’

Rannaranthroughtheirhousetotheroomtheboyshadbeeninstructedtogatherin.Someofhiscousinsanduncleswerealreadythere.Moremenstumbledintothedarkwindowlessroom–thenhistwoolderbrothers.Theremustbeatleastthirtyoftheminthesmallroom.Itwasstifling.Heheardhisfather’svoiceandfoughthiswaytowardshim.DostMohammadshoutedharshly:‘Shutup!They’llkillyouifyoumakeanoise.’

Theyellingintheroomsubsided.DostMohammadpickeduphisson,andRannasawhisuncleslipoutintothegreylightandshutthedoor,plungingtheroomintodarkness.Someoneboltedthedoorfrominside,andtheyheardtheheavythudofcottonbalesstackedagainstthedoortodisguisetheentrance.Withlucktheywouldremainundetectedandsafe.

Theshoutingandscreamingfromoutsideappearedtocomeinwaves:recedingandapproaching.Fromalldirections.SometimesRannacouldmakeoutthewordsandevenwholesentences.Heheardawomancry,‘Doanythingyouwantwithme,butdon’ttormentme…ForGod’ssake,don’ttortureme!’Andthenanintolerablescreaming.‘OhGod!’amanwhisperedonasobbingintakeofbreath.‘OhGod,sheisthemullah’s

daughter!’Themencoveredtheirears–andtheboys’ears–sobbingunaffectedlylikelittlechildren.

Ateenager,hiscrackedvoiceresoundinglikethehonkofgeese,startedwailing:‘Idon’twanttodie…Idon’twanttodie!’Catchinghisfear,Rannaandtheotherchildrensettowhimpering:‘Idon’twanttodie…Abba,Idon’twanttodie!’

‘Hush,’saidDostMohammadgruffly.‘Stopwhininglikegirls!’Then,withwordsthatmusthavebubbledupfromadeepsourceofstrengthandcompassion,withinfinitegentleness,hesaid,‘What’stheretobeafraidof?Areyouafraidtodie?Itwon’thurtanymorethanthestingofabee.’Hisvoice,unseasonablylight-hearted,carriedatendernessthatsoothedandcalmedthem.Rannafellasleepinhisfather’sarms.

Someonewasbangingonthedoor,shouting:‘Openup!Openup!’

Rannaawokewithastart.Whywasheonthefloor?Whyweretheresomanypeopleaboutinthedark?Hefeltthestirofmengettingtotheirfeet.Theairintheroomwasoppressive:hotandhumidandstinkingofsweat.SuddenlyRannarememberedwherehewasandthedarknessbecamechargedwithterror.

‘Weknowyou’reinthere.Comeon,openup!’Thenoiseofthebangingwasdeafeninginthepitch-blackroom,drowningtheotherchildren’salarmedcries.‘Allah!Allah!Allah!’anoldmanmoanednon-stop.

‘Who’sthere?’DostMohammadcalled;andputtingRannadown,stumblingoverthesmallbodies,madehiswaytothedoor.Ranna,terrified,gropingblindlyinthedark,triedtofollow.

‘We’reSikhs!’

TherewasapauseinwhichRanna’sthroatdriedup.Theoldmanstoppedsaying‘Allah’.Andinthedeathlystillness,hisvoiceechoingfromhisproximitytothedoor,DostMohammadsaid,‘Killus…Killusall…butsparethechildren.’

‘Openatonce!’

‘Ibegyouinthenameofallyouholdsacred,don’tkillthelittleones,’Rannaheardhisfatherplead.‘MakethemSikhs…Letthemlive…theyaresolittle…’

Suddenlythenoonlightsmotetheireyes.DostMohammadsteppedoutandwalkedthreepaces.Therewasasunlitsweepofcurvedsteel.Hisheadwasshornclearoffhisneck.Turningonceintheair,eyeswideopen,ittumbledinthedust.Hishandsjerkedupslashingtheairabovethebleedingstumpofhisneck.

Rannasawhisunclesbeheaded.Hisolderbrothers,hiscousins.TheSikhswereamongthemlikehairyvengefuldemons,wieldingbloodiedswords,draggingthemoutasasprinklingofHindus,dartingaboutatthefringes,theirfacesvaguelyfamiliar,pointedoutandidentifiedtheMussulmansbyname.Hefeltablowcleavethebackofhisheadand

thewarmflowofblood.Rannafelljustinsidethedooronatangledpileofunrecognisablebodies.Someonefellonhim,drenchinghiminblood.

Everytimehiseyesopentheworldappearstothemtobefloatinginblood.Fromthedirectionofthemosquecometheintolerableshrieksandwailsofwomen.Itseemstohimthatawomanissobbingjustoutsidetheircourtyard:greatanguishedsobs–andatintervalsshescreams:‘You’llkillme!HaiAllah…Y’allwillkillme!’

Rannawantstotellher,‘Don’tbeafraidtodie…Itwillhurtlessthanthestingofabee.’Butheishurtingsomuch…Whyisn’thedead?Wherearethebees?Oncehethoughthesawhiseleven-year-oldsister,Khatija,runstarknakedintotheircourtyard,herlonghairdishevelled,herboyishbodybruised,herlipscutandswollenandabloodyscabwhereherfrontteethweremissing.

Laterintheeveningheawoketosilence.Atoncehebecamefullyconscious.Hewiggledbackwardsoverthebodiesandslippingfreeoftheweightontopofhimfelthimselfsinkknee-deepintoaviscousfluid.Thebodiesblockingtheentrancehadturnedtheroomintoapoolofblood.

Keepingtotheshadowscastbythemudwalls,steppingoverthemangledbodiesofpeopleheknew,Rannamadehiswaytothechaudhry’shouse.Itwasdarkinside.Therewasanauseatingstenchofkerosenemixedwiththesmellofspiltcurry.Helethiseyesgetaccustomedtothedimness.Carefullyheexploredtheroomsclutteredwithsmashedclaypots,brokencharpoys,spilledgrainandchapatties.Hehadnotrealisedhowhungryhewasuntilhesawthepileofstalebread.Hecrammedthechapattiesintohismouth.

Hisheartgavealurch.Awomanwassleepingonacharpoy.Hereachedforherandhishandgraspedherclammy,inertflesh.Herealisedwithashockshewasdead.Hewalkedroundthecottoexamineherface.Itwasthechaudhry’solderwife.Hediscoveredthreemorebodies.Inthedimlightheturnedthemoverandpeeredintotheirfacessearchingforhismother.

Whenheemergedfromthehouseitwasgettingdark.Movingwarily,avoidingcontactwiththebodieshekeptstumblingupon,hewenttothemosque.

*

Forthefirsttimeheheardvoices.Thewhispersofwomencomfortingeachother–ofwomensoftlyweeping.Hisheartpoundinginhischesthecrepttoonesideofthearchingmosqueentrance.Heheardamangroan,thenaseriesofanimal-likegrunts.

Hefrozenearthebodyofthemullah.Howsoonhehadbecomeaccustomedtothinkingofpeoplehehadknownallhislifeasbodies.Hefeltonsucheasytermswithdeath.Theoldmullah’sfacewassereneindeath,hisbeardpaléagainstthebrickplinth.Thefiguresinthecoveredportionattherearofthemosquewereadarkblur.Hewassurehehad

heardChidda’svoice.Hebeganinchingforward,preparedtodashacrosstheyardtowherethewomenwere,whenamanyawnedandsighed,‘WahGuru!’

‘WahGuru!WahGuru!’respondedthreeorfourmalevoices,soundingdrowsyandreplete.RannarealisedthatthemeninthemosquewereSikhs.Awaveofrageandloathingswepthissmallbody.HeknewitwaswrongoftheSikhstobeinthemosquewiththevillagewomen.Hecouldnotexplainwhy:exceptthathestillsleptinhisparents’room.

‘Stopwhimpering,youbitch,orI’llbuggeryouagain!’amansaidirritably.

Othermenlaughed.Therewasmuchmovement.Stifledexclamationsandmoans.Awomanscreamed,andsworeinPunjabi.Therewasaloudcrackingnoiseandtherattleofbreathfromthelungs.Thenamomentofhorriblestillness.

Rannafledintothemoonlessnight.Skiddingontheslickwetclay,stumblingintotheirrigationditchesdemarcatingthefields,heraninthedirectionofhisUncleIqbalandhisNonichachi’svillage.Hedidn’tstopuntildeepinsideathicketofsugar-canehestumbledonaslightlyelevatedslabofdrierground.Theclayfeltsoftandcaressingagainsthisexhaustedbody.Itwasasafeplacetorest.ThemomentRannafeltsecurehisheadhurtandhefainted.

Rannalayunconsciousinthecanefieldallmorning.Intermittentshowerswashedmuchofthebloodanddustoffhislimbs.Aroundnoontwomenwalkedintothecanefield,andatthefirstrustleofthedriedleavesRannabecamefullyconscious.

Slidingonhisbutttothelowerground,crouchingamidsttheprickingtangleofstalksanddriedleaves,Rannafollowedthepassageofthemenwithhisears.Theytrampledthroughthefield,selectingandcuttingthesugar-canewiththeirkirpans,talkinginPunjabi.RannapickedupanexpressionthatwarnedhimthattheywereSikhs.Halfburiedintheslushhescarcelybreathedasoneofthemencamesoclosetohimthathesawthebluecheckonhislungiandtheflashofawhitesinglet.Therewasacracklingrustleasthemansquattedtodefecate.

Halfanhourlaterwhenthemenleft,Rannamovedcautiouslytowardstheedgeofthefield.AclusterofaboutsixtySikhsinlungisandsinglets,theircarelesslyknottedhairsnakingdowntheirbacks,stoodtalkinginafallowfieldtohisright.Atsomedistance,inanotherfieldofyounggreenshoots,SikhsandHindusweregatheredinamuchlargerbunch.Rannasensedtheirpresencebehindhiminthefieldshecouldn’tsee.Theremustbethousandsofthem,hethought.Shiftingtoasafespothesearchedthedistanceforthegreendomeofhisvillagemosque.Hehadtravelledtoofartospotit.Butheknewwherehisvillagelayandguessedfromthecoilingsmokethathisvillagewasonfire.

Muchlater,whenitwastimefortheeveningmeal,thefieldscleared.Hecouldnotmakeoutasinglehumanformformiles.Asheranagaintowardshisaunt’svillagetheredsun,asifengorgedwithblood,sankintothehorizon.

Allnighthemoved,scuttlingalongthemoundsofearthprotectingthewaterways,runninginshallowchannels,burrowinglikeasmallanimalthroughthestandingcrop.Whenhestoppedtocatchhisbreath,hesawtheglowfromburningvillagesmeasuringthenightdistancesoutforhim.

Rannaarrivedathisaunt’svillagejustafterdawn.Hewatcheditfromafar,confusedbytheactivitytakingplacearoundfiveorsixhugelorriesparkedintheruttedlanes.Soldiers,holdinggunswithbayonetsstickingoutofthem,weredirectingthevillagers.Thevillagerswereshoutingandrunningtoandfro,carryingontheirheadscharpoysheapedwiththeirbelongings.Somewereherdingtheircalvesandgoatstowardsthetrucks.Othersweredumpingtheirhouseholdeffectsinthemiddleofthelanesintheirscrambletoclimbintothelorries.

TherewerenoSikhsabout.Thevillagewasnotunderattack.PerhapsthearmytrucksweretheretoevacuatethevillagersandtakethemtoPakistan.

Rannahurtleddownthelanes,weavingthroughtheburdenedanddistraughtvillagersandstrayingcattle,intohisaunt’shut.Hesawherrightaway,heapingherpotsandpansonacot.Afatrollofwinterbeddingtiedwithastringlaytooneside.Hescreamed:‘Nonichachi!It’sme!’

‘ForaminuteIthought:Whoisthisfilthylittlebeggar?’Nonichachisays,whensherelatesherpartinthestory.‘Isaid:Ranna?Ranna?Isthatyou?What’reyoudoinghere!’

Themomenthecaughtthelightofrecognitionandconcerninhereyes,thepaininhisheadexplodedandhecrumpledatherfeetunconscious.

‘Itisfunny,’Rannasays.‘AslongasIhadtolookoutformyself,Iwasallright.AssoonasIfeltsafe,Ifainted.’

Herhandstrembling,hischachiwashedthewoundonhisheadwithawetrag.Clotsofcongealedbloodcameawayandfloatedinthepaninwhichsherinsedthecloth.‘Ididnotdareremovethethickscabsthathadformedoverthewound,’shesays.‘IthoughtI’dseehisbrain!’Theslashingbladehadscalpedhimfromtheriseinthebackofhisheadtothetop,exposingawoundthesizeofalargebaldpatchonaman.Shewonderedhehadlived;foundhiswaytotheirvillage.Shewassurehewoulddieinafewmoments.Ranna’schacha,Iqbal,andothermembersofthehousegatheredabouthim.Anoldwoman,thevillagedai,checkedhispulseandhisbreathand,coveringhimwithawhitecloth,said:‘Lethimdieinpeace!’

*

Aterrifyingroar,likethewarningofanalarm,throbsinhisears.Hesitsuponthecharpoy,takinginthedisorderinthehastilyabandonedroom.Theothercot,heapedwithhisaunt’sbelongings,lieswhereitwas.Hecanseethebeddingrollabandonedinthecourtyard.Claydishes,mugs,chippedcrockery,andhand-fanslieonthefloorwith

scatteredbitsofclothing.Wherearehisauntanduncle?Whyishealone?Andinthefearsomenoisedrawingnearer,herecognisestherhythmoftheSikhandHinduchants.

Rannaleaptfromthecotandranthroughthelanesofthedesertedvillage.Exceptfortheanimalslowingandbleatingandwanderingownerlessontheslushypathstherewasnooneabout.Whyhadn’ttheytakenhimwiththem?

Hisheartthumping,Rannaclimbedtothetopofthemosqueminaret.HesawthemobofSikhsandHindusinthefieldsscuttlingforwardfromthehorizonlikegiantants.Roaring,wavingswords,partlyobscuredbytheveilofdustraisedbytheirtramplingfeet,theyapproachedthevillage.

Rannaflewdownthesteepsteps.Heraninandoutoftheemptyhouseslookingforaplacetohide.Themobsoundedclose.Hecouldhearthethudoftheirfeet,makeoutthewordsoftheirchants.Rannaslippedthroughthedoorintoabarn.Itwasalmostentirelyfilledwithstraw.Hedivedintoit.

HeheardtheSikhs’triumphantwarcriesastheyswarmedintothevillage.Heheardthesavagebangingandkickingopenofdoors:andthequickconfusedexchangeofshoutsasthemenrealisedthatthevillagewasempty.Theysearchedallthehouses,movingsystematically,lootingwhatevertheycouldlaytheirhandson.

Rannaheldhisbreathasthedoortothebarnopened.

‘Oye!D’youthinktheMusslasarehidinghere?’acoarsevoiceasked.

‘We’llfindout,’anothervoicesaid.

Rannacrouchedinthehay.Themenwereclimbingalloverthestraw,slashingitwithlongsweepsoftheirswordsandpiercingitwiththeirspears.

Rannaalmostcriedoutwhenhefeltthefirstsharpprick.Hefeltsteeltearintohisflesh.Asifrecallingadream,heheardanoldwomansay:He’slosttoomuchblood.Lethimdieinpeace.

Rannadidnotloseconsciousnessagainuntilthelastmanleftthebarn.

***

AndwhiletheoldcityinLahore,crammedbehinditsdilapidatedMogulgates,burned,thirtymilesawayAmritsaralsoburned.NoonenoticedRannaashewanderedintheburningcity.Noonecared.Thereweretoomanyuglyandabandonedchildrenlikehimscavenginginthelootedhousesandtherubbleofburnt-outbuildings.

Hisragsclingingtohiswounds,strawstickinginhisscalpedskull,Rannawanderedthroughthelanesstealingchapattiesandgrainfromhousesstrewnwithdeadbodies,riflingthecorpsesforanythinghecoulduse.Heateanything.Rawpotatoes,uncookedgrains,wheat-flour,rottingpeelsandvegetables.

Noonemindedthesemi-nakedspectreashelookedindoorswithhisknowing,wide-setpeasanteyesasmencopulatedwithwailingchildren–oldandyoungwomen.Hesawanakedwomen,herlightKashmiriskinbruisedwithpurplesplotchesandcuts,hangingheaddownfromaceilingfan.Andlookedonwithachild’sboundlessacceptanceandcuriosityasjeeringmensetherlonghaironfire.Hesawbabies,snatchedfromtheirmothers,smashedagainstwallsandtheirhowlingmothersbrutallyrapedandkilled.

CarefullysteeringawayfromthemurderousSikhmobshearrivedatthestationontheoutskirtsofthecity.Itwascordonedoffbybarbedwire,andbeyondthewireherecognisedahuddleofMuslimrefugeessurroundedbySikhandHindupolice.Hestoodbeforethebarbedwirescreaming,‘Amma!Amma!Nonichachi!Nonichachi!’

ASikhsepoy,hishairtiedneatlyinakhakiturban,ambleduptotheothersideofthewire.‘Oye!What’reyoumakingsucharacketfor?Scram!’hesaid,raisinghishandinathreateninggesture.

Rannastayedhisground.HecouldnotbeartolookattheSikh.Hisstomachmusclesfeltlikechokeddrains.Buthestayedhisground:‘Iwastremblingfromheadtotoe,’hesays.

‘O,me-kiya!Isay!’thesepoyshoutedtohiscroniesstandingbyanopeninginthewire.‘Thislittlemother-fuckerthinkshismotherandauntareinthatgroupofMusslas.’

‘Sendhimhere,’someoneshouted.

Rannaranuptothemen.

‘Don’tyouknow?Yourmothermarriedmeyesterday,’saidafat-faced,fat-belliedHindu,hishairylegsbulgingbeneaththeshortsofhisuniform.‘AndyourchachimarriedMakhanSingh,’hesaid,indicatingatallyoungsepoywithashakeofhishead.

‘Letthepoorbastardbe,’MakhanSinghsaid.‘Goon:runalong.’TakingRannabyhisshoulderhegavehimashove.

Therefugeesinfrontwatchedthesmallfigurehurtletowardsthemacrossthegravellyclearing.Amiddle-agedwomanwithoutaveil,herhairdishevelled,movedforwardholdingoutherarms.

ThemomentRannawascloseenoughtoseethecom-passioninherstranger’seyes,hefainted.

WiththeotherMuslimrefugeesfromAmritsar,RannawasherdedintoarefugeecampatBadamiBaug.Hestayedinthecamp,whichisquiteclosetoourFireTemple,fortwomonths,queuingforthedoledoutchapatties,befriendedbyimprovidentrefugees,untilchance–iftherandomqueriesoffivemillionrefugeesseekingtheirkininthechaosofmammothcampsalloverWestPunjabcanbecalledanythingbutchance–reunitedhimwithhisNonichachiandIqbalchacha.

Chapter26

Cousin’scookdropshints.HetellsCousinhesuspectswhereAyahis.Yes,hethinksshe’sinLahore.

Thenheclamsup.AndnomatterhowmuchCousinthreatensorcajoleshim,doesn’taddoneilluminatingword.Idarenotquestionthecook.Infrontofmeheclamsup.AndinprivatethreatensCousinhewon’ttellhimanythingifheblabstome.

IroamthebazaarsholdingHimatAli’swizenedfinger,Hamida’sglutinoushand.Ivisitfairsandmelas,ridingonYousaf’sshoulders,lookinghereandthere.AndwhenIrideonthehandlebarofhisbicycle,peeringintotongas,buses,bullock-cartsandtrucks,IsometimesthinkIspotAyahandexclaim!ButitalwaysturnsouttobesomeonewhoonlyresemblesAyah.

***

Godmotherisinfluential.EvenCol.Bharuchavisitsher.Neighboursofallfaithsdropintotalk:andtopaytheirrespects.ButGodmotherseldomventuresout.Sheonlyvisitsifsomeoneisverysickorinextremeneedofher.

Orifshefeelsthecalltodonateblood.

ThecallnagsherthisstiflingJulymorning.Godmothertucksacologne-wateredhandkerchiefintoalittlepocketinhersari-blouse,putsonhermaroonvelvetgoing-outslippers,pinshergoing-outbeigesilksaritoherhairandarmedwithablackumbrellasetsoffinatongatobequeathblood.Iaccompanyher.SchoolsandtuitionsaresuspendedforsummervacationsandIamspendingtheweekwithher.HamidaandAdispendmosteveningswithus.MothervisitsoccasionallyandIfeeldistancedfromher–likewithaguest.

Godmotherliesdownonahardhospitalbenchcoveredonlywithawhitesheet.AnursebendsherarmbackandforthandrubsthecreaseinherarmwithcottonwoolthatsmellsjustlikethemuzzledidwhenCol.Bharuchaoperatedonmyleg.Thelady-doctorapproacheswithahideousinjectionsyringeandsicktomystomachIturnmyfaceawayandsqueezeGodmother’shand.Heranswer-inggripremainssteady.

WhenIlookatheragain,theblood-suckingneedlewithdrawn,sheappearstohavegrownlonger–asifthenobledeedhasaddedstaturetoherhorizontalform.Iamcertainherbloodwillsavemanywoundedlives.

Perspiringandhalfdeadfromtheheat,wereturnfromthehospital.MiniAuntyhandsGodmotheraprecioushalf-glassoficedwaterfromathermosandsaysshewouldalsoliketodonateblood.

Godmotherisfirmwithhermiddle-agedkidsister.‘No,’shesays,‘youmaykindlynotdonateyourblood!Ican’taffordtohaveyougoallfaintandlimponme.’

Slavesisterlooksunutterablydeprived.‘Allright,’shesays,saggingagainstthekitchendoorjamb.‘Gotoheavenallbyyourself,then.Denymeevengooddeeds!’

Godmotheristrulyastonished.

‘Isthatwhatyoubelieve?’sheasks,staringatSlavesisterslack-jawedandopen-mouthed;foronceatacompleteloss.

Atlast,shakingherhead,Godmotherrotatesherthumbagainsthertemple:‘Ascrewloosesomewhere,’shesays,lookingdazed.‘What’stobecomeofher,Idon’tknow…Inheavenorinhell!’

***

OvertheyearsGodmotherhasestablishedanetworkofespionagewithareachofwhichevensheisnotaware.Itisinhernaturetoknowthings:tobeawareofwhat’sgoingonaroundher.Theday-to-daycommonplacesofourlivesunraveltoherundercurrentsthatarelosttolessperceptivehumans.Nobaby–notevenakitten–isdeliveredwithinthesphereofherinfluencewithoutherbecominginstantlyawareofitsexistence.

Andthisisthesourceofherimmensepower:thisreservoirofrandomknowledge,andherknowledgeofancientloreandwisdomandherbalremedy.Youcannotbenearherwithoutfeelingheruncannystrength.Peoplebringtohertheirjoysandwoes.Showhertheirsoresandswollenjoints.Distillingtherightherbs,adroitlyinstillingtherightwordintherightear,shesecureswishes,smoothsrelationships,curesillnesses,battleswrongs,solacesgriefandpreventsmistakes.Shehasaccesstomanyears.Nooneknowshowmany.And,whentalkingincessantlyaboutmyresurrectedfriendIrelatetohertherigoursofRanna’sexperience,sheachievesforhimaminormiracle!RannaissuddenlysiphonedintotheConventofJesusandMaryasaboarder.

ItsurprisesmehoweasilyRannahasacceptedhisloss;andadjustedtohisnewenvironment.So…onegetsusedtoanything…Ifonemust.ThesmallbitternessesandgrudgesItendtonursemakemefeelashamedofmyself.Ranna’sreadyabilitytoforgiveapastnoneofuscouldcontrolkeepshimwhole.

TheConventisontheoutskirtsofShahdara,abouthalfwaybetweenImamDin’svillageandLahore.Barricadedbytallbrickwallsthegirls’schoolacceptsboysuptoacertainage.GettingapoorrefugeechildadmittedtoaConventschoolisasdifficultastransposinghimtoaprosperouscontinent:andasbeneficial.Notonlyforhim,itissaid,

butforsevensucceedinggenerationsoftheRannaprogeny.RannavisitsusontheweekendshecangetacyclerideintoLahore.

Godmothercanmovemountainsfromthepathsofthoseshebefriends,anderectmountainousbarrierswhereshedeemsitnecessary.

Sheisontosomething.Icantell.WhenIcatchhergoos-goosingwithSlavesisterandtheystopwhisperingabruptly,IknowtheyaretalkingofAyah.Slavesisterbehavesasiftheyarenothidinganythingfromme.ButGodmother,tohercredit,looksguiltyashell.

Shehasneverletmedownyet.IhavemorefaithinherinvestigativecapacitiesthanIhaveinMother’sandElectric-aunt’ssorties.

***

Themysteryofthewomeninthecourtyarddeepens.Atnightwehearthemwailing,theircriesvergingontheinhuman.SometimesIcan’ttellwherethecriesarecomingfrom.Fromthewomen–orfromthehousenextdoorinfiltratedbyourinvisibleneighbours.

Thereisagreatdealofactivitybyday:oftrucksgoingtoandfromthetingatessealingthecourtyard;ofwomenshouting;butnohintoftheturmoilandsufferingthateruptsatnight.

Andcloser,andasupsetting,thecagedvoicesofourparentsfightingintheirbedroom.Mothercrying,wheedling.Father’sterse,brash,indecipherablesentences.Terrifyingthumps.Iknowtheyquarrelmostlyaboutmoney.Butthereareotherthingstheyfightaboutthatarenotcleartome.SometimesIhearMothersay,‘No,Jana;Iwon’tletyougo!Iwon’tletyougotoher!’Soundsofascuffle.Fathergoesanyway.Wheredoeshegointhemiddleofthenight?Towhom?Why…whenMotherloveshimso?AlthoughFatherhasneverraisedhishandstous,onedayIsurpriseMotheratherbathandseethebruisesonherbody.

AndatdawntheinsistentroarofthezooliontrackingmetowhateverpointoftheworldIcannothidefromhiminmynightmares.

ItgetssothatIcannotsleep.AdiisasleepwithinmomentsbutIliewithmyeyesopen,staringattheshadowsthathavebeguntohauntmyroom.Thetwenty-foot-highceilingrecedesandthepalelightthatblurstheventilatorscreepsin,assumingtheangryshapesofswirlingphantombabies,ofgapingwoundsformingdeformedcres-cents–andofMasseur’sslender,skilfulfingerssearchingthenightroomforAyah.

AndwhenIdofallasleeptheslogansofthemobsreverberateinmydreams,piercedbywomen’swailsandshrieks–andIawakenscreamingforAyah.

Motherrushestomysideandbendsoverme.Inthefaintglowfromthenigh-lightIseeherhandsweepmybodyasshesymbolicallycatchesmischievousspiritsandbanishesthemwithaloudsnapofherfingers.Atthesametimesheblowsonme,makinga

frighteningnoiselikemoaningwinds:Whooooo!whoooooo!Thesoundiseerieenoughtobanishanypresence:naturalorsupernatural.Sheplacesasix-inchironnail,blessedbytheParseemysticMobedIbera,thediscipleofDasturKookadaru,undermymattresstowardofffear.

SometimesMotherliesbesideme,hertouchasfreshandsoothingasdaylight,andtellsmetheoldstoryofthelittlemousewithseventails.Motherhaswiselychangedtheending.‘Andthentherewasonlyonetailleft,’shesays,‘andthelittlemouseycamehomelaughing:“Ha,ha,ha,ha!”’Mother’sartificiallaughbouncesoffthewallssoheartilythatitdispelsfearandItoolaugh.‘Andthelittlemouseysaid,’saysmymother,‘“Mummy,mummy,nooneteasedme.Theysaid,‘Littlemouseywithonetail.Niceymouseywithonetail!”’

Ihaveoutgrownthestory–buttheintimacyitrecallslullsthedoubtsandfearsinmygrowingmind.

MotherasksHamidatosleeponamatinourroom.HamidasquatsbymybedandwetalkinwhisperstillIfallasleep.

OnecoldnightIamawakenedbyahideouswail.Myteethchattering,Isitup.Imusthavejustdozedoff,becauseHamidaisstillsittingbymybed.

‘Shush,’shesays.‘Gotosleep…It’sjustsomewoman.’

IliedownandHamidapatientlystrokesmyarm.

‘Whydotheywailandscreamatnight?’Iask.

ItisnotasubjectIhavebroachedtillnow,mindfulofHamida’ssensibilities.

‘Poorfate-smittenwoman,’saysHamida,sighing.‘Whatcanasorrowingwomandobutwail?’

‘Whoarethosewomen?’Iask.

‘Godknows,’saysHamida.‘Gotosleep…thereisnothingwecando…She’llbeallrightinthemor-ning.’

Myheartiswrungwithpityandhorror.Iwanttoleapoutofmybedandsoothethewailingwomanandslayhertormentors.I’veseenAyahcarriedaway–andithadlesstodowithfatethanwiththewillofmen.

‘Didyoucry?’IaskHamida.

‘Whodoesn’t?We’reallfate-smitten…’

‘Imean,whenyouwerethere?’

Herhandonmyleggoesstill.

‘Isawyoubeforeyoucametous,youknow.Isawyouinthejailnextdoor.’IspeakasgentlyasIknowhow.

‘Whatnonsenseyoutalk…’

‘Ilookeddownatyoufromaholeintheroof.Youcouldn’tseeme–butIsawyou.IrecognisedyoustraightawaywhenyouweretalkingtoMotheraboutthejob…ButIdidn’ttellher!’

Afterapause,breathingheavilyinthedark,Hamidasays,‘YourmotherknowsIwasthere.’

Thewomaninthejailhasstoppedwailing.Itissoquiet–asitmustbeatthebeginningoftime.

‘Whywereyouinjail?’Iaskatlast.

‘Itisn’tajail,Lennybaby…It’sacampforfallenwomen.’

‘Whatarefallenwomen?’

‘Hai!Thequestionsyouask!Yourmotherwon’tlikesuchtalk…Nowkeepquiet…’

‘Areyouafallenwoman?’

‘Hai,myfate!’moansHamida,suddenlyslappingherforehead.Sherocksonherheelsandmakesacrazykeeningnoise,suckingandexpellingtheairbetweenherteeth.

‘What’sthematter?Don’tdothat…pleasedon’tdothat,’Iwhisper,leaningovertotouchher.

‘Ifyourmotherfindsoutthisishowyoutalk,she’llthrowmeout!Hai,myfate!’

Againsheslapsherforeheadandmakesthatstranglingnasalnoise.

‘Iwon’ttellher…Ipromise!Stopit.Pleasedon’tdothat!’

Igetoutofbedandpressherfaceintomychest.Irockher,andHamida’stearssoakrightthroughmyflannelnightgown.

Iwon’tmentionherfalleveragain.Ican’tbeartohurther:I’dratherbitemytonguethancausepaintohergrief-woundedeye.

Butthisresolve,too,goesthewayofallresolutions.

‘What’safallenwoman?’IaskGodmother.

‘Awomanwhofallsoffanaeroplane.’

Godmothercanbelikethatsometimes.Exasperating.Shecan’thelpit.

‘Wouldn’tshebreakherheadanddie?’Isaypatiently.

‘Maybe.’

‘ButHamidadidn’tbreakherhead…Shesaysshe’safallenwoman.’

‘Oh?’Godmother’sexpressionchanges.

AsItellherofmyconversationwithHamida,Slavesisterloitersabouttheroom.Shepretendstoarrangepapersonthedesk.Thelettersandpapersarealreadysortedoutandneatlystacked.Althoughshehasherbacktome,Icantellherearsareswitchedon.

‘HamidawaskidnappedbytheSikhs,’saysGodmotherseriously.OnseriousmattersIcanalwaystrusthertolevelwithme.‘ShewastakenawaytoAmritsar.Oncethathappens,sometimes,thehusband–orhisfamily–won’ttakeherback.’

‘Why?Itisn’therfaultshewaskidnapped!’

‘Somefolkfeelthatway–theycan’tstandtheirwomenbeingtouchedbyothermen.’

It’smonstrouslyunfair:butGodmother’stoneisaccepting.IthinkofwhatHimat-Ali-alias-HarioncetoldmewhenIreachedtoliftatinysparrowthathadtumbledfromitsnestonourveranda.

‘Letitbe,’he’dstoppedme.‘Themotherwilltakecareofit.Ifourhandstouchit,theothersparrowswillpeckittodeath.’

‘Eventhemother?’Iasked.

‘Eventhemother!’he’dsaid.

Itdoesn’tmakesense–butifthat’showitis,itis.

‘That’swhyyourmummytellsyoutostaywithHamidaallthetime–orwithus,’saysSlavesisterunctuously.‘Whenyourmothertellsyousomething,it’sforyourowngood.’

Thereshegoesagain:buttinginandmakingseriousmatterstrivial.

‘Hermother’snothere,’saysGodmother.‘Itwon’tdoyouanygoodbutteringherupinherabsence.’

‘AndI’mnotmarriedeither!Itdoesn’tmatterifI’mkidnapped,’Ispeakup.

‘Ohyes?Andwho’llmarryyouthen?It’llbehardenoughfindingsomeoneforyouasitis.’

‘Mummysays:myhusbandwillsearchtheworldwithacandletofindme!’

‘Poorfellow…Hewon’tknowyouthewaywedo,willhe?Yourhusbandwillclutchhisheadinhishandsandweep!’

‘Cousinwantstomarryme!’I’msurprisedhowsmugIfeelsayingit.Idon’tthinkIparticularlywanttomarryCousin–butthoughhehasnotactuallyaskedmeto,Ithinkhehasimpliedit.It’sacomfortingthought.Ifonlyasalastresort.

‘Hehasn’tseenanygirlsbesidesourLameLenny,ThreeForaPenny.Waittillheseestheworld!’saysMiniAunty.

WhatanasininethingtosayaboutmyworldlyCousin!EvenGodmothersuppressesasmile.

‘Kindlygoaboutyourbusiness,’shetellshersister.‘Andstopmessingwiththosepapers!Asitis,Ican’tfindany-thingwhenIwantit.’

‘Whatisthemtterwithyou?’Cousinasks.

‘Nothing.’

I’mfeelingdespondent.WhensomethingupsetsmethismuchIfinditimpossibletotalk.Itusednottobeso.Iwonder:amIgrowingup?AtleastI’vestoppedbabblingallmythoughts.

Thisidiocyofbottled-upemotionscan’tbeasymptomofgrowingup,surely!MorelikelyI’mrevertingtoinfancythewayoldpeopledo.Ifeelsosorryformyself–andforCousin–andforallthesenile,lameandhurtpeopleandfallenwomen–andtheconditionoftheworld–inwhichcountriescanbebroken,peopleslaughteredandcitiesburned–thatIburstintotears.IfeelIwillneverstopcrying.

‘Isyourstomachhurting?’Cousinaskscautiously,afraidofarebuff.

I’mgratefulthathehasstayedhisgroundatleastandnotgonetearingoffonsomepretexttoavoidmyirrationaloutburst.

‘No.’Ishakemyhead.‘I’mnothurting.’

Andthen,ofitsownaccord,mymouthblurts,‘Noonewillmarryme.Ilimp!’AlmostatonceIfeellessag-grieved.

‘ButI’llmarryyou,’volunteersmygallantcousin.

Isearchhisfacethroughmytears.ThankGod,hedoesn’tsoundtheleastmartyred.Icouldn’tbearit.Helooksfondandsincere.Ifindithardtorecallmymultitudinousanguishesofamomentbefore.Ievenfeelalittlefoolish.Andalarmed–lestIirrevocablycommitmyselftoCousin.

‘Aslightlimpisattractive,’saysCousin,solemnandauthoritative.

‘Ohyes?’!say,airingmydoubt.

‘Ilikethewayitmakesyourbottomwiggle.’Hewavestwofingersbackandforth.

Itwiststrenuouslyand,tuggingmyshortdresstautacrossmybuttocks,peerdown.Thereisverylittlebottomtosee.

‘Whenyougrowup,you’llhaveamuchbiggerbottom,’assertsmysolicitousandperceptivecousin.‘Itwilllookveryattractive,then…’hesayssomewhatuncertainly.

Mydeepeningscepticismhasinfectedhimtoo.

‘Ireadastory,’hecontinuesgravely,‘inwhichtheheroinelimped.Heronelegwasshorter.Shedidn’tevenhaveaprettyface.Butherlimpwassosexy,everybodywantedtomarryher!’

Idon’tcareforCousin’ssecond-handconsolations.Inanycase,Idon’twanthimharpingonmylimp.

‘Col.BharuchasaysI’IIstoplimpingbythetimeIgrowup.’

‘Apity,’saysCousin.‘Ifinditattractive.’

‘Icanalwayskeepit,ifyoulike,’Isaypolitely,andfurtherguardingmyoptionsIadd:‘Let’sseehowIfeelaboutmarryingyouwhenIgrowup.’

‘Doyoufindmeattractive?’Cousinsuddenlyasks,gazingcompellinglyintomyeyes.

‘Yes,’Isaycourteously,andavertmyeyes.

‘Howattractive?’Cousinisinsistent.‘Doyouthinkyoucouldlovemepassionately?Dieforme?’

Ireflectamoment.CousincertainlydoesnotarouseinmetheraptureMasseurarousedinAyah…IrecallthebewilderinglongingsthelookonMasseur’sfacestirredinmewhenhelookedatAyah…Andotherstirrings…

‘Idon’tfindyouthatattractive,’Isaytruthfully.

‘Isupposeyou’retooyoung,’saysCousin.‘Youhaven’tknownpassion.’

IopenmyeyeswideandlookdemurelyatCousin,andletitpass.

ButCousincan’t:‘Doyoufindanyonemoreattractivethanme?’

‘Yes,’Isay,‘IthinkIfoundMasseurmoreattractive…’

Isurprisemyself.Mouthingthewordsarticulatesmyfeelingsandrevealsmyselftome.

‘Buthewasold!’saysCousinequallysurprised.

IsuddenlyfeelshyandCousinlooksunutterablydejected.Ithinkmysuddenshynessconvinceshimofmywaywardheartmorethananyprotestationswould.

‘Whoelsedoyoufindattractive?’Cousinasks,managingtowipehisfaceandvoiceofallexpression.

‘OhIdon’tknow…TherewasalittleSikhboy…’

‘Domeafavour,’Cousinsays.‘Thinkaboutallthepeopleyoufindmoreattractivethanme–andletmeknow.’IhavebeensoengagedbymyreactiontothenamesnamedthatIfailtonoticethebitternessandsarcasmthathavecreptintohisvoice.

Ilookaboutmewithneweyes.Theworldisathrobwithmen.Aslongastheyhavesomepleasingattribute–height,width,orbeautyofface–nomanistoooldtoattractme.Ortooyoung.Tongawallahs,knife-sharpeners,shopkeepers,policemen,schoolboys,Father’sfriends,allexerttheircompellingpullonmyrunawayfantasiesinwhichIamrecurringlyspiritedawaytoremoteHimalayanhideouts;theretobeworshipped,foughtover,diedfor,importunedandwooeduntil,arousedtoapassionthattinglesfrommyscalpintotheverytipsofmyfingers,Ifinallypermitmylovertolayhishandsuponmychest.Itisnosmallbestowaloffavour,formychestisnolongerflat.

Twolittlebumpshaveeruptedbeneathmynipples.Fleshofmyflesh,exclusivelymine.AndIamhardputtoprotectthem.IguardthemwithapossessivepassionbesidewhichmypassionforpossessingRosy’slittleglassjarspales.OnlyImaytouchthem.NotCousin.NotImamDin.NotAdi.Notanybody.Ican’ttrustanyone.

NotevenMotherwhohastakentobathingme;andwithhercharacteristicprimandsolemnexpressionbunchesherfingersroundthemandgoes:‘Pom-pom.’

‘Letme,letme…’saysCousinandpokeshishandoutevery-which-wayeverychancehegets.Ifinditfatiguingtomaintainmydistancefromhim.

AndfromAdi,whoresolutelymaterialiseswheneverI’mbathingandglueshiseyetoacrackinthebathroomdoor.WhenHamidablocksit,Adishiftstoanothercrack:andwhenthattooisplugged,hejumpsupanddownonaledgeoutsidethebathroomwindowwitharaptdeterminationthatislikeanelementalforce.HearingHamida’stwitteringremonstrancesandmyshrillscreams,ImamDinemergesroaring:‘WaittillIcatchyou,youshamelessbugger,’andcarriesAdi,wigglingandkicking,towardsthekitchen.I,peeroutofthewindowandAdi’sface,flushedwithacoldrage,bodesillforanyideasImamDinmighthaveofsittinghimonhislap.EvenImamDincouldnothandlethatfrustratedcobrafury.

Asthemoundsbeneathmynipplesgrow,myconfidencegrows.ItellImamDintoholdAdiinthekitchen,pushHamidaoutofthebathroomandlockthedoor.Iexaminemychestinthesmallmirrorhangingatananglefromthewallandplaywiththemaswithcuddlytoys.Whatwithmylimpandmyburgeoningbreasts–andtheprojectedgirthandwiggleofmyfuturebottom–IfeelassuredthatIwillbequiteattractivewhenI’mgrownup.

CousinwalkswithmeandHamidatothebazaarsandgardens,rideswithusintongas,andIdutifullypointouttohimallthemenandboysIfindappealing.‘Seetheboywiththecutelittlebuckteeth?’Iask.‘Icoulddieforhim!’and‘Look-look-look,’IsayphysicallyturningCousin’shead.‘Lookatthatfellowinthetongawithhisfeetup!’

‘I’mkeepingtabs,’saysCousinmournfullyafterthishasgoneonforsomedays.‘YouareattractedbyroughlytenpercentofthemalepopulationinLahore.’

‘Isthattoomuch?’Ienquire.

‘Whynotme?’Cousindemands,ignoringmyquestion.‘What’swrongwithme?’

‘You’retooyoung,maybe.’

‘Butsomeoftheboysyoulikedareyounger…I’llgrowup!’

MyheartsinkssadlyformyCousin.Whydon’tIfeelallsuffocatedandshywhenI’mwithhim?Itrytofathommyemotions.

‘MaybeIdon’tneedtoattractyou.You’realreadyattrac-ted,’Isay.

ItislikethatwithCousin.Heevenshowsmeme!

I’veadmitteditbefore:Ihaveawaywardheart.Weak,susceptibleandfickle.ButwhydoIcallitmyheart?Andblamemyblamelessheart?Andnotblameinsteadtheincandescenceofmywomb?’

Chapter27

Ispendhoursontheservants’quarters’rooflookingdownonthefallenwomen.Theturnover,astheyarerescued,sortedoutandrestoredtotheirfamilies,issorapidthatIcanbarelykeeptrackofthenewfacesthatappearandsosoondisappear.Thecampisgettingcrowded.Ifthisiswheretheybringkidnappedwomen,thisiswhereI’llfindmyAyah.

HamidaknowswheretofindmewhenMotherasksforme–orwhensomeoneisgoingtoGodmother’sonanerrandandthinksoftakingmealong.Sometimes,furtivelyclimbingthestairs,Hamidasitsquietlywithmeandtogetherwelookatthedazedanddullfaces.Iftheylookupwesmile,andHamidamakeslittlereassuringgestures;butthewomenonlylookbewilderedandrarelysmileback.

Iwonderaboutthewomen’schildren.Don’ttheymisstheirmothers?Ipraythattheirhusbandsandfamilieswilltakethemback.Hamidaseldommentionsherchildren.AllI’vebeenabletogetoutofheristhatshehastwoteenagesonsandtwodaughters,oneasoldasmeandoneyounger.

‘Theyoungestwasjustbeginningtowalk,’saysHamidaonecrispafternoonaswesunourselvesontheroof.Hamidahascometofetchmeforlunch,butsheiswillingtostayforawhile.

‘Don’tyoumissyourchildren?’Iask.

‘Ofcourse,’saysHamida.

‘Thenwhydon’tyougotoseethem?’

‘Theirfatherwon’tlikeit.’

‘Theymustmissyou.Youcouldseethemsecretly,couldn’tyou?’

‘No,’saysHamidaturningherfaceaway.‘They’rebetteroffastheyare.Mysister-in-lawwilllookafterthem.IftheirfathergetstoknowI’vemetthemhewillonlygetangry,andthechildrenwillsuffer.’

‘Idon’tlikeyourhusband,’Isay.

‘He’sagoodman,’saysHamida,hidingherfacebashfullyinherchuddar.‘It’smykismetthat’snogood…wearekhut-putli,puppets,inthehandsoffate.’

‘Idon’tbelievethat,’Isay.‘Cousinsayswecanchangeourkismetifwewantto.Thelinesonourpalmscanalsochange!’

Hamidagivesmeaqueerquizzicallook.‘Haveyouheardoftheprincewhowaseatenbyatiger?’sheasks.

‘No,’Isay,shakingmyheadandsettlingcomfortablyagainsttheroofwalltolisten.

Itistheperfectdayforastory.Thesuniswarmonourskins,castingaquiet,lazyspellontheafternoon.ItisthefirststoryHamidatellsme.LaterIdiscovershehasafundofunusualanddepressinglittletales.

Onceuponatimetherewasakingwhohadnochildren,saysHamida.Nightanddaythekingandhisqueenprayedforason.Theytravelledafar,visitingoneholy-manafteranother,andvisitedalltheshrinesofsaintsintheirkingdom.Thequeenwovetemplesarisforthevariousgoddesses,stuckflowersintheirimagesandcoveredthegoddesseswithgold.

Onenightthekinghadadream.Inhisdreamaraggedholy-manwithwildhairsaid:‘O,king,yourdearestwishwillbegranted.Beforetheyearisoutyouwillhaveason.Butyouhaveaccumulatedanunfavourablekarma.Inyourpastlifeyouweredisobedienttoyourguruand,attimes,evenirreverent.Youwillbepunishedforyourinsolence.Yoursonwillbeeatenbyatigerinhissixteenthyear.’

Asforetold,theroyalcouplewasblessedwithabeautifulson.Thekingandqueenrejoicedanddiligentlydistributedfoodandmoneyamongtheirpoorersubjectstoimprovetheconditionoftheirkarmasandearnblessings.

Thekingdecreedthatalltigersbehuntedandkilled.Heorganisedtigerhuntsandrodeattheheadoftheelephantcavalrytodecimatethebeastsroundedupbythedrummers.Heofferedhandsomerewardsforthepeltsbroughtbythehunters.

Theprincegrewtallandbeautiful.Hewascompassionateandfilledwithlaughter.Themoretheylovedhimthemorehissubjectsfearedtheprophecy.

Bythetimetheprincewastenyearsoldtheyhadkilledallthetigersand,asanaddedprecaution,allthedomesticandalleycats:forwhatisacatifnotaminiaturetiger?Thetigersinthesurroundingkingdomswerealsokilled.

Astheprincegrewolderheyearnedtohunt:andatlastthekingwassatisfiedthatitwassafefortheprincetoventureintotheforest.Mostpeoplehadforgottenwhatatigerevenlookedlike!

Thefatefulyeardawned.Theprinceturnedsixteen.

Onceagainthewild-hairedholy-manappearedintheking’sdream.‘Thetigerwhowilleattheprinceisalreadynear,’hesaidtothetremblingking.

Againthehuntersbeatthebushesandsearchedthewoods.Therewerenopugmarksordroppingseven–notracetoshowthattigershadonceinhabitedtheforests.

Theprincewasconfinedtothepalace.Hewasneverleftunattended.Huntsmenpatrolledtheforestsandarmedguardsthepalacegates.

Thekingandqueenprayedmore,fastedoftener,anddidallmannerofpenance.Thekinggavehisfinerobestothebeggarsandworethecoarsegarmentsofthefakirs.Hedistributedlargeportionsofhiswealthamongthepooranddonatedfortunestoshrines,mosques,templesandchurches.Heundertookvowsandoathsthatwouldbindhimtoalifetimeofpenitenceifhissonwasspared.

Theyearwasalmostpast.Theking,inhispenitent’ssackcloth,wasdiscussingaffairsofstateinthedarbarwhentheprincewalkedin.Thekingmaderoomforhissononthemarbletakth,coveredwithsilkrugs.Theassemblybowedtilltheprincesettledamidstthevelvetcushionsandsignalledthemtosit.Helaybackonthebolstersandafterawhilehefellasleep.

Thedarbarwasalmostoverwhentheprinceawakenedfromaterrifyingdream.Hisfrightenedeyesopenedonafinelywroughthuntingscenepaintedontheceiling.Royalhuntsmen,spearspoisedinvaryingattitudesofattack,surroundedafiercetiger,bare-fangedandrichlystriped.Suddenlytheprincescreamedandcried:‘Oh!Thetiger!Thetiger!He’sgotme!’Hefellbackandwrithinginagonydied.

Inthepandemoniumthatfollowed,theking’seyesquicklytracedthepathofhisson’scongealedstare:and,horrified,hesawthelifelikeglowontherichpeltdim,andthetiger’sshiningeyesreverttoyellowpaint!

Hamida,whohasbeengawkingskywardslikethehorrifiedmonarch,returnshalfwaytoearthandlooksatme.

ButI’minnomoodtocountenancetragedy.Despitetheunnaturalangleofmyupendedhairs,despitetheacceleratedbeatofmyheart,despitethegloamingimagesofthescreamingprinceandthechillonmyskinIrendthestorywithsavagelogic.Iftheking’skarmawassolousyhowcomehewasking?Andwhyshouldthepoorprincesufferforhisfather’s…?Andhowcanapaintedtiger…?

‘Perhapsit’snotsounrealasitisunfair!’Iconclude.

‘WhatdoesFatecare?’saysHamidawithplacidandomniscientcertainty.‘That’swhyitisfate!’

Webecomestill:cockingourearstoadinanduproarcomingfromthekitchen.

‘ImamDin’scaughtthebilla!’saysHamida,hernarrowfacelightingup.AndjustasAyahandIrantothebackatthesoundsofstrugglewithHari’sdhoti,wenowruntowardsthekitchen:Hamidaholdingmebythehandandmyfeetflyingtomatchherlongstrides.

Neighboursandtheservantsalreadyformasmallcrowd.ImamDin,onelegonthegroundandoneonthekitchensteps,hasahugeblackandbattle-scarredcattrappedinthescreendoorandispressinghiswholeweightontheframetoholdtheslipperyintruder.Thecat,caughtbelowitsribs,issuspendedafootoffthefloor.Franticallytwisting,itsteethbared,thepanickedcreatureisspittingwildly.

ImamDinroars:‘That’llteachyoutosneakintothekitchen,youone-earedmonster!Makeallthenoiseyouwant!I’mnotlettinggoofyou,youbadmashbilla!’

Thecrowdoutsidethekitchengrowsasmorepeoplerunupfromtheroad.Someoneshouts:‘Thattomsneaksintoourkitchentoo!Teachthefellow!’andsomeoneelseyells:‘Hesurewon’tpokehissnoutintoyourpansagain!’AndYousafyells,‘That’senough,yaar!Baskar!’andImamDinsays,‘ThistimeI’mgoingtoteachhim…It’sthethirdtimeI’vecaughtthethug!Pokeyournoseintothemilkwillyou?’

‘Lethimgo,’Iscream.‘He’lldie.’

‘He’snotabouttodie,’saysHamida.‘He’satougholdalleycat!’

TheMorrisrollsupthedriveandcomestoastopintheporch.Motherbeepsthehornandshouts:‘What’sgoingon?’

ImamDinissointentonchastisingthecatthathedoesn’thearher,andobliviousofherpresenceroarsinvectiveatthecaterwaulinganimal.

‘Lethergoatonce!’screamsMother,slammingshutthedoorofthecar.Shecannotseethecat’sgender–itissecretedbehindthedoor–buttherestofusseemtoknowit’sahim.

MothergrabsholdofImamDin’sshirtandpullsbutIdon’tthinkheevennotices.

‘Getthefly-swat,Lenny!’screamsMotherinanabsolutefrenzy.

Idashinandfetchthefly-swatwithalongreedhandleandawire-meshflap.Mothersnatchesitfrommyhandand,wavingherarmsinanawkwardlyfeminineandenergeticway,swatsImamDinwithit.Shestrikeshislegs,arms,shoulders,andevenhisshavenhead.

AllatonceImamDinletsgothedoorandgripshisarm.Thesurprisedcatboundsdownthestepsandspittingandbouncinglikeacharredfire-crackerstreakszigzaggingpastthestartledcrowd.

ImamDinturnstofaceMother.Glassesdramaticallyawry,faceflushed,shecontinuestowhackhim.ImamDinlooksbewildered–andsearchesconfusedlyforthefliessheisswattingonhisperson.Whenherealisesherfuryisdirectedathim,hisbewildermentturnstoincredulity,andthentoshock.Heholdsouthishandandlikeamantakingawayadangeroustoy,snatchesthefly-swatfromMother.Heexaminesitasifhe’sneverseenafly-swatbefore.

SurprisedatbeingsoperemptorilydisarmedMotheryells:‘Getoutofmysight!Duffaho!’

Largetearswellingfromhisoldeyes,ImamDinturnshisbroadbackonher,andfollowedbymyexcitedmotherwalkszombie-likeintothecrowd.AbsorbedandprotectedbythecrowdImamDinscrutinisesthetearsinhisshirtandthefinelinesofbloodcongealingonhisforearms.

‘Shameonyou!Tormentingasmallcat!Getoutofmysight!’Mothershoutsoncemore,andwhirlingaroundinhersilksariandtintedglassesmatchesinside.

‘Look!’saysImamDintothesympatheticcrowd.‘Ican’tbelieveit…Shedrewblood!’

‘Itwasonlya,fly-swat,yaar,’saysYousaftakingholdofhisarm.Heshoutsatthegawkers:‘What’stheretosee?Goon,pushoff!’

Mutteringandlaughingamongthemselvesthecrowdbreaksup.Somevaultthewallstoneighbouringhousesandsomewalkdownthedrivetotheroad.

YousafleadsImamDinintothekitchen.HamidaandIfollow.Hamidasayinginherconciliatoryandsubmissivemanner:‘WhatifBaijeehadawhip,brother?Whatwouldyou’vedonethen?Oh,ho!Lookatthetearsinyourclothes,’sheexclaims.‘Tch-tch-tch!Don’tworry.I’llsewthemsothey’lllooklikenew!’

ImamDinrefusestohavehisclothesmendedandremainssullenallafternoon.

WhenFatherreturnslateintheeveningImamDinpresentshimselfbeforeFather’sbicycleandwithamostinjuredcountenancesays:‘Baijeestruckmewithafly-swat!Ibled!’

Fatherplaceshiscycleonitsstandandraisinghisbrowsinaclutchofsurprisedwrinkleslooksatusoutofbaffledeyes.

‘ImamDincaughtthebillainthekitchendoor,andwouldn’tlethimgo.AndMummyhithimwiththefly-flapper,’Iexplain.

FatherturnshisastonishedeyesuponImamDin.

Turningandtwisting,ImamDindisplaysascatteredandspiderymeshofwoundswherethewirescratchedhim.‘This…Andthis.Andseethis!’hesaysstretchingthesmalltearsinhislungiandshirt.

Fatherlockshiscycle.Makingafewcluckingnoisesofinsinceresympathyhepreparestogoin,whenMotherburstsoutofbangingspringdoorsshouting:‘StopsnivellinginfrontofSahib,youbigidiot!You’reluckyitwasonlyafly-flap!Goin,someone,andgethimbangles.Ifhewhineslikeawomanhemustwearbangles!’

DespitehershoutingMothersoundsgood-humouredandwereleaseoursuppressedlaughter.EvenFathercannotsuppresshistightlittlesmile.

ShakinghisheadsheepishlyImamDinamblesofftowardsthekitchenandMotherlaughsandclingstoFatherandFathercontinuestosmile,despiteherclinging,andsays:‘Thefly-flap’supsethim.Ifyou’dusedastickhewouldn’thavemindedsomuch.’

AdiandIlaughandlaughandhugFatherandourclingingmother.Ifeeldeliriouslylight-hearted.SodoesAdi.FatherhasspokendirectlytoMother:addressingherinsteadofthewalls,furniture,ceiling–orusingusasdeflectingconduitstosoundhismessagesoff.Itisbecominganincreasinglyrareoccurrence–thisbusinessofhistalkingtoourmother:outofpublicorpartyviewthatis.

***

Andsuddenly,thehuntforAyahisoff.Isenseit.SodoesAdi.

Theyonlypretendtolookforher.MotherstilltakesoffintheMorrisbutIknowitisnottolookforAyah.Icantellbythewaythecar’swheelsflattenonthestonesandbythedeterminedangleofSkinny-aunt’schin–thatthecar’sdickyisloadedwithpetrol.TheycansetfiretotheworldforallIcare!IwantmyAyah.

Chapter28

Itisabadphaseinmylife.EvenCousinisavoidingme.Ihaven’tseenhimforaweek.ImusttalktohimaboutmyconcernsorI’llcrackup.AdiandIgoovertoElectric-aunt’s.Cousinisstudyingforhisexams.

‘Idon’tknowwherethesunrisesthesedays,’saysElectric-auntinawedandperplexedpleasure,holdingthescreendooropenandusheringusin.‘Yourcousindoesn’twishtobedisturbedevenbyyou!’Shelooksatmearchlyandflashesallherlittlegoat’steethinaconceitedsmile.

Electric-auntpartsthenavy-bluecurtainsand,pokingonlyherheadthrough,quietlywhispers:‘LennyandAdiarehere,dear.Won’tyouseethemforjustfiveminutes?’

SinceIcan’thearhisresponse,andI’mdeterminedtoseehim,Ithrowhimaline:‘AllworkandnoplaymakesJackadullboy!’

Iknowhe’llbite.ImaginegettingawaywithcallingCousindull.

Cousindriftsintothesittingroominhislongshortsandshortsocks,lookingallstand-offishandpreoccupied,andgreetsusunenthusiastically.Heperchesontheedgeofthethree-piecesofa,tiltinghislegsprimlytoonesideand,asifhe’sagrownmanmasqueradinginshortlegs,makesdesultorysmalltalkwithAdi.Hedoesn’tevenlookatme.ExceptwhenIforcehimtobyaddressinghiminsistently–andthenheglancesmywaybrieflyandcoldly,beforeagainbestowinghisattentiononAdi.Toleavenodoubtofhistediumatourpresencehefoldsthenewspaperintoastiffbatand,withnerve-rackingspringsandexplosivewhacks,swatsfliesonthesofas,tablesandradiotop.

Electric-auntcoversherears.‘Oh!Dostopbeingsojumpy,dear,’sheexclaimsand,likeanangularstreakofzigzaglightning,dartsfromtheroom.

Cousinperchesonthesofaagain,elegantlycrossinghisanklesthistimeandhastily,beforehehasachancetospringupandswatmoreflies,Iwhisper:‘They’vestoppedlookingforAyah!’

‘Havethey?’saysCousin,lookingdownatmecoolly,andturnstoAdiasifI’vesaidsomethingasuneventfulanduncomplicatedas:‘GodmotherrappedMiniAunty’sknuckleswithherpunkah!’

Ican’tunderstandit.I’mfurious.‘Let’sleavehimtohisdrearystudies,’Isaywitheringly.ButAdi,whohasnotreceivedsuchsingularattentionfromCousinsincethetimehewasalmostkidnappedandbaskedfortwodaysinglory,isreluctanttoleave.Ihavetodraghimaway.

***

Itisunnerving.ThemorealoofCousinbecomes,themoreIthinkabouthim.Ifindmyday-dreams,forthefirsttime,occupiedbyhisstubbypersonandadenoidalvoice.Theyarepedestrianandcolourlesscomparedtomycavemanandkidnapperfantasies,buttheyareascompletelyengrossing.Ithrill.Ifeeltinglesshootfrommyscalptomytoetips.AndCousin’sproximity,comparedtotheremotenessofimaginedloverstuckedawayinunseenwildernesses,drivesmetorecklessexcess.

Againstallmyinstinctsandsenseofdignity,IchaseCousin.IhangaroundElectric-aunt’shouseandaroundCousin–whenhetoleratesmypresence.Ifetchhimglassesofwaterandbunchesofgrapesandsharpenhispencilsandcopyouthishomeworkandfollowhimwhereverhegoes.IfhegoesintothebathroomIwaitpatientlyoutsidethedoor–hungeringforanycrumbshemightthrowbywayofaloofcommentorobservation.Theseherestricts–likemyfatherwithMother–toimpatientanddisparagingmonosyllables,mutesignalsandiratescowls.

AndwhileIhangaboutCousin,myeyeshangonhim,andIshamelesslyandeloquentlyogleCousin.

‘Areyouinlovewithhimorsomething?’Adiasksartlessly,butIcatchaslyglitterattheedgeofhiseyeswhenheturnsaway.Idon’tcare.Lethimthinkwhathelikes.

RannastillvisitsusonSundays,ifhegetsarideonabicycleorinacart.ButthisSundaywhenhecomes,hisscarscoveredbycrispwhitecotton,hisbruisedfaceeager;thoughmyheartgoesouttohim,mymindisfilledwiththoughtsofCousin.Mytimeconsumedinhispursuit.Rannatagsalong.Butafterthishevisitslessfrequently.HegoestoImamDin’svillageinstead,tobewithhisuncleandNonichachiandhiscousins.Inanycasewearegrowingapart.Itisinevitable.Thesocialworldsweinhabitaretoodifferent;ourinterestsdivergent.

***

Cousinisrestoredtomeonagreatsurgeofexcitementwhenheburstsintomyroomandboltingthedoorbreathesintomyear,‘IsawAyah!’

MyheartpoundssowildlyIcannotspeak.Where?Here?Inourhouse?ButthenCousinwouldn’thaveboltedthedoor.AyahmustbeattheRecoveredWomen’sCamp!

‘Whereisshe–inthecamp?’Iask,voicingmyassump-tion.Andfeelingweak-kneed,Isitonthebed.

‘Isawherinataxi.AtCharingCross,’saysCousin,breathingsocloseI’mforcedtolieback.Lookingannoyinglycomplacentandplacinganarmoneithersideofme,Cousin,thebearerofgreatgoodnews,therestorerofwithheldwarmth,bearsdownonme:andinthatinstantIrealisethathisaloofnesswasonlyashamcalculatedtoarousemyardour.Bentonfurtherpleasuringme,squashinghispantingchestonmyflattenedbosom,Cousingivesmeasoggykiss.PoorCousin.Hissenseoftimingisallwrong.ThenewsaboutAyahhascooledmypassion.Pushinghimbackandholdinghimatarm’slength,Isay,‘Ifyoudon’ttellmeeverythingatonce,I’llkneeyourballs!’(Ihavegrownup!)‘Whowasshewith?Whereisshe?’

Cousin,resuminghisaloofstance,examineshisnailsandsnottilysays:‘Isaid,Isawherinataxi.Youknow…passby.’

‘Youcouldhavefollowedthetaxi,’Ihowl.

‘How?Ihaveenginesinmylegs?’

I’mnotperturbedbyhissarcasmorhisdisdain.Hiscoldnessisahoaxanyway.

‘Didsheseeyou?Howdidshelook?Didyouwave?’

‘Idon’tthinkshesawme,’saysCousin,thawingbeforemyimportunatequeries.‘Shewasallmadeup!’

‘Really?Tellme!Whatdoyoumean,madeup?’

IscrambleacrossthebedonmykneesandgrabCousinbyhiscurlyhair.

‘Likeafilmactress,’hesays.

Cousinturnsinordertoaccommodatetherestofhisbodytohistwistedneckand,focusinghiseyesonmychest,carefullyplaceshishandsonmybreasts.Idrawback,slappinghishandstillmypalmssting,feelingsickandallshrivelledup.

Cousinlooksatme,lovesickandsheepish,hisspankedfingersquiveringguiltilyonhisthighs.

‘Ifyoueverdothatagain,I’llbreakyourfingers,knucklebyknuckle,’Isayseverely.(Thepreviousthreatappearstohavehadnoeffect–hencethechangedperspective.)

‘ButIloveyou,’saysCousin.Asifthatcondoneshislasciviousconduct.

‘WellIdon’t!’

‘Thenwhydidyouhangaroundme?Andmakeallthosefunnyeyesandstareatme?’

‘Iwon’tanymore.Youwereonlypretendingtobestand-offish!You’reaphoney!’

‘Ha!Itworked,didn’tit?Ihadyoupantingwithpassion!’

‘Youdidn’t!’

‘Oh,yes?Look,’saysCousin,conciliatory:‘Iloveyou.ButIcan’tpretendnottoallmylifejustsoyou’llrunafterme.’

‘You’resupposedtochaseme!’Isay.‘Boysaresupposedtochasegirls!’

‘Butyourunaway!’

‘It’sonlywhenyouputyourhandshereandthereandeverywhere.’

‘Evenbeforeyougrewyourbreastsyoudidn’tloveme,’saysCousinbitterly.‘Youfindeverybodybutmeattractive!’

‘Ican’thelpit.Ifthat’sthewayIfeel–that’showitis.’

Thenextday,angrilyhaulingmebymyorgandysleevebeforeGodmother,Cousincomplains,‘ShelovesapproximatelyhalfofLahore…Whycan’tsheloveme?’

Godmother,inherwisdom,says:‘It’ssimplyacaseofGharkimurg;dalbarabar.Aneighbour’sbeansaretastierthanhouseholdchickens.’

‘Butshe’sjustahouseholdchicken,too!StillIloveher!’wailsCousin,hisnasalvoicecrackingandsqueaking.Passiondoesmakeonesilly…Ishouldknow!Ifeelawfullysorryforhim.

‘Don’tworry,’saystheslave,waddlingupandmussinghishair.‘It’sonlypuppylove.Wait’llyoustartnoticingyourneighbouringchicks!’

‘So?’demandsGodmother.‘WhatabouttheyoungcocksLennywillnotice?’

‘Yes?Whataboutthem?’Irepeat.

IfCousinwasn’ttryingsohardtobemanful,he’dbecrying.

Wearriveatacompromise,afinelydelineatedcovenant:Iwillkeepanopenmindandletbygonesbebygones,andCousinwillstopwooingmeandwaitacoupleofyearsbeforetouchingmybreastsagain.WeshallseehowIfeelaboutitthen.

InthemeantimeCousinsensiblysetsaboutbecomingindispensable.Knowingthewaytomyheart,hescurriesabouttryingtofindoutthewhereaboutsofAyah.Hebringsmerumours,andactingonthemisleadingleads,wastesenergyonfutileforaysintotheremotest,seediestandmostdangerouspartsofthecongestedcity.

Chapter29

Andthen,lateoneevening,I,too,seeAyah.Itdoesn’tregisteratonce.Itisonlyafterthetaxihasdrivenpast,slowingatthecornerofMozangChawkandTempleRoad,thatIrealisethattheflashywomanwiththeblazinglipstickandchalkypowderandahugepinkhibiscusinherhair,andunseeingeyesenlargedlikeanactress’swithkohlandmascaraedeyelashes,sittingsquashedbetweentwothinpoets,wasAyah.

IntheeveningIpesterHamidatotakemetotheQueen’sGarden.Shehasnevertakenusthere.Shesaysshefeelsshysittingamongallthosestrangers.

WhenIfinallygethertoagreetotakeus,MotherannouncesthatGodmotherwantsAdiandmetospendthenightwithher.

DrManekModyisvisitingagain,andhewishestoseeus.

***

‘It’sthethirdtimeI’vetoldyoutoputthewatertoboil!’scoldsGodmotherfromherbed.‘What’sthematterwithyou?TheDemonofLazinessfinallygetyou?’

‘I’mgoing,I’mgoing.’Slavesister’sstring-bedcreaksasshestandsupinhercrumplednightie.‘Rodabai,youaresoimpatient.Really…’

‘I’mimpatient?Doyouknowwhattimeitis?DoyouknowManekattendedtothemilkmanwhileyourLazyshipsnored?’

DrManekModypeepsalertlyfrombehindhisrustlingnewspaper.Havingbeenawakeforanhour,he’sreadyforexcitement.

Adistirsbesidemeandsitsupsleepily.Ipropmyselfuponmyelbows.

‘Eventhechildrenawakebeforeyou,’saysGodmothersternly.

‘Shame,shame,’saysDrModyfastidiouslyholdingthetipofhisnose.‘Poppyshame!’

Slavesister’srat-tailbraidhascomelooseanduntidystrandsofgreyinghairplasterherneckandback.AlthoughitisonlythemiddleofAprilwerequiretheceilingfanthatisgroaningroundandround.Slavesisterwipeshermoistfaceonhersleeve.

‘Ithinkthedemonhasfoundpermanentlodginginher!’muttersGodmother.

Abandoningthenewspaper,thedoctorspringsoutofhischair,saying,‘I’llexorcisethedemon.Iknowhow!’

TiltingforwardandextendinghisindexfingerhesaystoMiniAunty:‘Here,pullit.’

‘Don’tbesilly,Manek,’saysMiniAunty.

‘Comeon,pull,’coaxesthedoctor,lookinglikeabrown-domedelf.‘Iswear,you’llhearthedemonleave.’

TheflapsofAdi’searsmoveforward.He’sthatcurious.SoamI.

Godmother,proppedonherpillows,displaysasolemnface.Butcuriosityandamusementquiverinthetensionofherrestrainedmuscles.

‘DoasManeksays,’sheorders,asifinstructingachildtodrinkMilkofMagnesia.

Ignoringherandshakingherhead,Slavesistercarriesherdrowsy,martyr’ssmileintothekitchen.

DrModyrushesinafterherand,listingforwardonceagain,pointshisfinger.

‘Please,MiniAunty,pleasepullit,’AdiandIclamour,crowdingintothekitchen.

Godmotherlowersherfeettothefloorand,sittingforwardonhercot,peersatus.‘Yourhandwon’tfalloffyouknow,’shecalls.‘Here’ssomeoneperfectlywillingtoexorciseyourdemonsandwhatdoyoudo?Insulthim!’

‘He’sadoctor,notamagician!’saysSlavesister.

‘Ipractiseexorcisminmysparetime–didn’tyouknow?Tryit…Myfingerwon’texplode.’

‘Stubbornasadonkey!’decreesGodmotherthroughthedoor.

‘Please,MiniAunty,beasport,’Ibeg.Adiissoexcited,andsonervousthattheexorcismmaynotmaterialise–ortakeplaceinhisabsence–thathedancesfromfoottofootandhastearsinhiseyes.

‘Oh,allright!’saysSlavesister,suddenlycapitulating.Shetugsatthedoctor’sfingerand,acquiringanairofintenseconcentration,thegifteddoctorfarts.

Hestandsupstraightandlooksasstartledasus.‘Somedemon!Didyouhearhim?Healmosttoremyass!’

‘Muchobligedtoyou,Manek,’callsGodmotherfromherbed.

‘Whatd’youhaveinyourstomach?Atombombs?’enquiresMiniAunty,givingthedoctorawhackonhischest.

‘That’snowaytotreatanexorciser,’thedoctorsays,staggeringbackastepandlookingatherwithaslightedcountenance.

‘Itis,’saysMiniAunty,givinghimanotherwhack.

‘Behaveyourself,Mini!’shoutsGodmotherfromthebedroom.‘Thepoormanriskedhislifeforyou!’

‘Howdidyoudothat?’asksAdi,hislegsperfectlystill,hisfaceagog.

‘Prayerandpractice,’saysDrMody.‘Here,pullmyfinger.’

HetiltsforwardandAditugsathispointingfinger.Withcompressedlipsandquiveringchinthedoctorletslooseacracklingbatteryofcrispwind.AgainAdipullsandagainhefarts.

‘Metoo,Iclamour.

Thedoctorobliginglydirectshisfingeratme.WhenIpullnothinghappens.I’mdisappointed.

‘Toobad,’saysthedoctor.‘Youhavenodemonstoday.We’lltrytomorrow.’

InthenextthreedaysCousin,AdiandIarepossessedbyaposseofdemonssonumerousthatthedoctorishardpressedtoexorcisethem.HedirectsMiniAuntytofeedhimhugequantitiesofwhathecallsanti-demonpotions:andGodmother’sroomsreekofcabbage,beansandhard-boiledeggs.

Sinceweallingestthesamenourishment,Ifallasleeptoamedleyofwinds:thedoctor’smagnificentexplosions,Godmother’sandSlavesister’smutedput-putterings,Old-husband’sbassbubblingsandAdi’sandmyhigh-pitchedandprotractedeeeeeeeps.

Oldhusband?He’sstillinhabitingthepages?

Clearly,hehasnot,asI’dthought,passedaway.

Lethimstay,asweallstay,inGodmother’stalcum-powderedandintrusivewake.

***

Icannotbelievemyeyes.TheQueenhasgone!Thespacebetweenthemarblecanopyandthemarbleplatformisempty.Agroupofchildren,playingknuckles,squatwherethegunmetalqueensatenthroned.Bereftofherpresence,thestructurelooksunwomaned.

Thegardenscenehasdepressinglyaltered.MuslimfamilieswhoaddedcolourwhenscatteredamongtheHindusandSikhs,nowmonopolisethegarden,deprivingitofcolour.Eventhechildren,coveredinbrocadesandsatins,cannotalleviatetheausterityoftheblackburkasandwhitechuddarsthatshroudthewomen.Itisastonishing.TheabsenceofthebrownskinthatshowedthroughthefineveilsofHinduandSikhwomen,andbeneaththedhotiesandshortsofthemen,haschangedthecomplexionofthequeenlessgarden.Therearefewerwomen.Moremen.

Hamida,herheadandtorsomodestlycoveredbyhercoarsechuddar,holdingherlanklimbsclose,sitsself-consciouslyonthegrassbyherself.Thereislittlecomfortinlaying

myheadonherrigidlap.

AdiandIwanderfromgrouptogroup,peeringintofacesbeneathwhiteskull-capsandaboveasceticbeards.TheAzanmusthavesounded.Somewomenspreadprayermatsonthegrassandkneelingstarttopray.Ifeeluneasy.LikeHamida,Idonotfit.Iknowwewillnotfindfamiliarfaceshere.

***

‘IsawAyah!Itwasher!’

Itiscooloutside.Thesunhasset–andintheprotractedduskIamstraddlingGodmotherandclutchingherfaceinmyhands.MylegshavegrownsolongIcantouchthegroundwithmytoes.

‘ItmustbesomeonewholookslikeAyah.Withallthatmake-uponit’shardtotell.’

Godmotherisbeingintractable.

‘Isawherwithmyowneyes,’Isay,pullingdowntheskinbeneathmyeyes.

‘Sometimesweonlyseewhatwewishtosee,’saysMiniAunty,issuingthenuggetofwisdomasifshe’sanoracle.‘Anddon’tdothat,’sheadds,‘you’llgrowpouchesunderyoureyes.’

‘IknowthedifferencebetweenwhatIseeandwhatIonlywanttosee,’Ishout.Iwishshewouldn’tintrude.Asitis,it’shardertoconvinceGodmotherthanI’dexpected.Shemustbelieveme.She’stheonlyonewhotakesmeseriously–exceptCousin–andhehasn’tbeenabletounearthanythingyet.

‘ButCousinalsosawher,’Isay.

‘Itcan’tbeher.AyahiswithherfamilyinAmritsar!’Godmotherconveysacertaintythatforaninstantunderminesmine.Itcanonlymeanthathernetworkhasfailedher.Iamdismayed.

‘Howcanyoubesosure?’Iask.

Godmotherhesitates,thenshesays,gravely,‘Askyourmother.’

‘What’sshegottodowithit?’

I’msurprised.It’snotlikeGodmothertopassthebuck.‘What’shappening?’Icry.‘Whyisn’tanyonetellingmeanything?’

‘Lenny,there’ssomethingsbestleftalone,’saysGodmother.

‘Youshouldsendforthefamilyexorcist,Rodabai,’saysMiniAunty.‘Manekwillridherofherstubbornness.’

‘Ifyoucan’tkeepyourmouthshut,goinside,’Godmothersayssharply.Hernostrilsaretwitching.I’veseldomheardhertalktoSlavesisterlikethis–totallywithouthertonguein

hercheek.

Ifeelhopeless.IrubmyrunnynoseandmytearsonGodmother’sblouse.I’mhorriblyfrightenedthatGodmother,despiteallhercannyanduncannyresources,mightbemisled.

AndGodmother,unabletobearmyconfusionandanguish,andguiltybecauseofherowndeviousness,says,‘Lenny,haveyounoticedhowbusyyourmummy’sbeenallyear?Goingoutallthetime?’

Inod.

‘I’lltellyouasecret,’saysGodmother,‘butIwanttobesureyouwon’ttellanyone.Itcouldgetyourmotherintorealtrouble.’

IdrawbackandpermitGodmothertosearchmysolemnfaceandmyhonourableeyes.Shetrustswhatsheseesbecauseshesays:

‘Mummyandyourauntrescuekidnappedwomen.Whentheyfindthem,theysendthembacktotheirfamilies:or,totheRecoveredWomen’sCamps.ShearrangedforAyahtobesenttoherrelatives.Shedidn’twantyoutoknow.Shefeltyouhadacceptedherabsence-you’donlystartfrettingagain.’

Don’tIknowtheywentonfutileAyahhunts?OrweretheyjustpretendingtolookforAyah,usingitasacoverformoresinisteractivities?Doesn’tGodmotherknowaboutthepetrolinthedicky?Doesn’tsheknowthatElectric-auntandMotherweredashingoffarmedwithpetrol-cansandtintedglasseslongbeforeanyonehadevenheardofkidnappedwomen?

ObviouslyGodmotherdoesnotknow.I’mdumb-founded.Godmother,whomakesitherbusinesstoknoweverythingabouteverybody,doesn’tknowaboutthearsonists!Istillliveindreadofmymotherandaunt’simminentarrest.Hand-and-leg-cuffedandjanglingchains!AndGodmother’snaïvetycompoundsmyfear.Sheisslippingdangerously,justwhenhercapabilitiesaremostneeded.Iamtemptedtotellherthetruth,butIbitemywretchedtruth-infectedtonguejustintime.Onebetrayalisenough.I,thebuddingJudas,mustlivewiththeirheinoussecret.

Itisgettingquitedark.Alreadythedewissettlingonourclothes.IshiveronGodmother’slap.Godmothersays,asifmusingaloud:‘Cometothinkofit,wehaven’tseenthatpopsicle-maninalongtime.’

MiniAuntycallsfromwithin,‘You’dbettergetin,orsomeonewillbesneezingherheadofftomorrow.’

***

Cousin,too,bindsmetosecrecy.CrowdingmeintoacornerofRosy-Peter’sstilldesertedroomhewhispersintorayear:‘WanttoknowwhyAyahwasallmadeup?’

Irespondwithabreathlessnod.

‘Becauseshehasconvertedherprofession!’

‘She’sbecomeChristian?’Ienquiretentatively,notknowingwhattomakeoftherevelation.

‘Notherreligion,silly!Herprofession.D’youthinkVirginMary’dbecaughtdeadwearingallthatmake-up?’

‘Idon’tknow,’Iconfess.WhatdoesVirginMaryhavetodowithAyah?

‘Shewouldn’t!’declaresmyknowingCousin.‘AyahhasbecometheoppositeofVirginMary.She’sbecomeadancing-girl!’

‘Anactress!’Iexclaim,enthralled.Thatwouldexplainthemake-up.Theonlydancing-girlsI’veseenareinIndianfilms.

‘Well,’saysCousin,atrifleuncertain.‘Dancinggirlsdogrowintoactressessometimes…’

‘Oh?’Isay,andwaitpatiently.

‘AyahisjustadancerintheHiraMandi…Thered-lightdistrict.’

HiraMandimeansDiamondMarket.Cousinisbeingdeliberatelyobtuse.HeknowshowimportantanynewsofAyahistome.Iwouldliketoshakehim.Instead,likesteppingoneggshells,Iask,‘WhereisthisDiamondMandiwiththeredlight?’

‘BehindtheBadshahimosque.It’swheredancing-girlslive.’

‘Andthediamonds?Whosellsthediamonds?’Iprodgingerly.

‘Therearenorealdiamondsthere,silly.Thegirlsarethediamonds!Themenpaythemtodanceandsing…andtodothingswiththeirbodies.It’stheworld’soldestprofession,’saysCousinasifhe’sutteringprofunditiesinsteadofdrivel.

Mypatienceiswearingthin.Still,‘Whatthings?’Iask.

AlthoughI’mcautiouswithCousin,waryofsurprises,thegullibilitythatmademeclimbastooltoinsertmyfingerintotheACcurrentremains.

Everreadytoilluminate,teachandshowmethings,Cousinsqueezesmybreastsandliftsmydressandgrabsmyelasticisedcottonknickers.Buthavingonlythetwohandstodoallthiswithhecan’tpullthemdownbecausegalvanisedtoactionIgrabthemupandjabhimwithmyelbowsandknees:andturningandtwisting,withmytoesandheels.

Becomingredintheface,Cousinletsmebe.Andstandingapart,andwithexasperation,says:‘Howdoyouexpectmetotellyouwhat?Ifyoudon’tletmeshowyouhow?’

AndCousinstartsalloveragaintoshowme,andpullingmykickingfeetfromunderme,succeedsinde-knickeringme.Andputtinghishandthere,tremblesandtrembles…

UntilIpunchhisearsandshout:‘You’rebreakingyourpromise!’

‘Whotoldyouallthis?’Idemand,pullingmyknickersupandscowling,mysharpelbowsbristlinglikedangerousquillsasIsettledownwarilyinthecorner.

‘Mycooktoldme.’

‘Whichmendosuchthingstoher?’Idemandtoknow.

‘Oh,anymanwhohasthemoney…Mycook,wrestlers,ImamDin,theknife-sharpener,merchants,pedlars,thegovernor,coolies…’

IfthosegrownmenpaytodowhatmycomparativelysmallCousintriedtodo,thenAyahisintrouble.IthinkofAyahtwistingIce-candy-man’sintrusivetoesandkeepingthebutcherandwrestleratarm’slength.Andofthosestrangers’handshoistingherchocolatebodyintothecart.

ThatnightItakeallI’veheardandlearntandbeenshowntobedandbymorningIreeldizzilyonafleetinglyglimpsedandterriblegrown-upworld.

Idecideit’stimetoconfrontMother.

***

IhoundMotherwithamuteanddoggedsullenness.ItisFriday,thedaytoinvokethegreatTroubleEasers,theangelsMushkailAssanandBehramYazd.(IntroubledtimestheyarefrequentlyevokedbytheParsees.)AsMotherpreparesfortheceremony,spreadingawhitesheetonthebedroomfloorandplacingthesmallfirealtarandphotographsofthesaintsonit,shecastsperplexedeyesmyway.ThelessIamabletospeakout,themoreturbulentgrowsthetemperofmypent-upaccusations.Motherkneelsonthefloorandstrikesamatchtolightthejosssticks.Shearrangesthesandalwoodshavingsonthefirealtarandplacesacriss-crossofsmallsandalwoodsticksontopofthem.Sheholdsouttheboxandsays:‘Here,Lenny,wouldyouliketolightthefire?’

Iwhipmyhandsbehindmybackasifshehasofferedmeascorpion.Ishakemychurlishhead.

‘What’sthematter?’sheenquires,onherkneesbeforetheunlitaltar.

Inaharsh,squeakyrushofwordsIcanhardlybelieveareissuingfrommeIhearmyselfsay:‘Don’tthinkwedon’tknowwhatyou’reuptowiththepetrol-cansandmatches!’

MotherlookssobewilderedandalarmedthatIwonderforaninstantifCousin,AdiandIarenotmistaken.Thetwingeofdoubtpasses.

‘Iknowaboutthepetrolinthecar’sdicky!’Iaccuse,onceagainsteadfastinmyrighteousandindignantconviction.

‘Oh?’saysMotherlooking,ifanything,moreperturbedandbaffled.‘Ididn’tthinkitnecessaryyouchildrenshouldknowaboutit…Itcouldbedangerous…’

‘Butwedoknow!’Icry.‘Wearen’tdumb!YouandAuntyshouldbeashamedofyourselves!Deceivingeverybody!PretendingtolookforAyahandinsteadburningLahore!’Icannolongerholdbackmytearsorpreventthetragicbreakinmyvoice.

‘OhmyGod!’Motherexclaims.‘Isthatwhatyouthink?’

Andasunderstandingslowlyreplacestheastonishmentonherface,shepullsmetoherlap.Wipingmytearswithhersofthands,speakingsimplyandgravely,shesays,‘IwishI’dtoldyou…WewereonlysmugglingtherationedpetroltohelpourHinduandSikhfriendstorunaway…Andalsofortheconvoystosendkidnappedwomen,likeyourayah,totheirfamiliesacrosstheborder.’

‘Youshouldhavetrustedme!’Icry,tryingtostaythethreateningsurgeofself-loathingandembarrassmentfromannihilatingme.

‘Yes,’shesays,solemnlyshakingherheadupanddown.‘Ishouldhave!’

Howcouldshehave?Howcananyonetrustatruth-infectedtongue?

***

OnMondayIcomestraighttoGodmother’sfromMrsPen’s.Iremovemysatchel,kickoffmyshoesandIampeelingoffmydampsockswhenGodmotherabruptlysays:

‘Youwereright.AyahisstillinLahore.’

Ifeelgoose-bumpseruptallover.Mybodyfeelsdrainedofstrength.ItotteracrossthecoolcementtoGodmother’sbed.‘Howdidyoufindout?’Iask,whenIamabletogetmybreathback.

‘Ihavemysources,’shesays.

Irealisethequestionwasredundant.

‘Whatdidyoufindout?’Iask.

‘She’smarried.’

‘Iheardshe’sconvertedintoadancing-girl,’Isay.

Godmotheristakenaback.‘Whotoldyouthat?’

‘Cousintoldme,’Isay.‘Hiscooktoldhim.’

‘Sheisn’tadancing-girlanymore:she’sawife.Herhusbandiscomingtoseemethisevening.’

‘IsAyahcoming?’Iaskatonce.

‘Heisn’tbringingher.’

‘Who’sherhusband?’Iaskeagerly.

‘You’llsee.’

***

Ican’twaitforevening.When’sevening?Four?Six?Eighto’clock?Itisalreadythree.Thewatermanissprayingthedrivefromtheleatherpouchslungonhisbackandthefinedustclingsinlittleballstodropsofwater.Icanseehimthroughthescreendoorandsmellthesteamofftheparchedearth.

‘Let’ssitout,’Isayimpatiently.

‘We’llgooutsideatfiveo’clock.Likewedoeveryday,’saysMiniAunty.

‘Can’tItakethechairsoutatleast?’Isayimpatiently.

‘My,my!Onewouldthinksomeonewasexpectingherownbridegroom!He’llcomewhenhecomesandyoursittingoutsidewillnothurryhimthetiniestbit!’

‘Whenyou’vefinishedlayingyoureggsofwisdom,’saysGodmother,‘youcanmakemesometea.’

MiniAunty,sittinginherpetticoatandblouse,fansherselfharder.Herfaceisbeadedwithsweat.‘Letmecooloffabit,’shesays:‘Ihaven’thadamoment’srespiteallday.’

Sheisexaggeratingofcourse.Shehasbeenfloppedinthatarmchairforthepasthalf-hour.

‘Ifyouthinkyouhavetoomuchtocopewithyoucanlivesomeplaceelse,’saysGodmother.

‘Ididn’tsaythat,now,didI?’saysMiniAuntyplacidly.

‘Oh?Ineedtooilmyears?’saysGodmother.‘IthoughtIheardyousayyouwereoverworked.’

MiniAuntygetsupwithasighand,shiftingherweightfromonebulgingbuniontotheother,waddlesintothekitchen.

Byfiveo’clockweareseatedoutside,waiting.Itisoppressivelyhot.Thethin,pointedleavesoftheeucalyptusdroopinbrittleclustersoverourheadsandrattleasthesparrows,twitteringfeverishly,settlefortheevening.Thetable-fanisineffectualagainstthedustsuspendedintheair.

‘We’reboundtohaveadust-storm.It’stoostill,’MiniAuntyremarks.Raisingherpetticoataboveherspreadkneessheflapsapunkahbeforehermodestlyavertedthighs.

‘Iwishyouwouldn’tchattersowitlessly,’saysGodmother,soundingundulyirascible.‘Predictingdust-stormsintheseasonfordust-stormsisnotverybright.’

IstallmyrestlessmovementsonGodmother’slap.Irealisehowtensesheis.Wearealltense,waiting.Itisalmostsixo’clock…thenbehold!Thebridegroomcomes.Lean,lankandloping,inflowingwhitemuslin,raisingdustwithhissandalledfeet,thepoetapproacheth.

OnlynowdoIrealisethatoneoftheleanandlanguidpoetsflankingAyahwasIce-candy-man.

*

Ice-candy-manacknowledgesourpresencethroughdreamykohl-rimmedeyesandremovinghislamb’s-woolJinnahcap,touchinghisforeheadinamuteandprotractedsalaam,squatsbowedbeforeGodmother.Hehasgrownhishairandlongoilystrandscurveonhischeeks.Hesmellsofjasmineattar.

‘Livelong,’saysGodmother,leaningforwardtostrokehisshoulder–andcrushingmeintheprocess.

Ice-candy-manshufflesbackand,pushinghishairbehindhisears,drawsusintotheorbitofhispoeticvision.Hewaitsquietlywhileweabsorbhisincredibletransformation.Hehaschangedfromachest-thrustingpaan-spittingandstruttinggoondaintoaspitlesspoet.Hisnarrowhawkishface,asifrecastinadifferentmould,hassoftenedintoasensuousoval.Heisthinner,softer,droopier:hisstreamofbrashtalkreplacedbyacannysilence.NowonderIdidn’trecognisehiminthetaxi.

‘Wherehaveyoubeenallthesemonths?’exclaimsGodmotherpleasantly.‘Itwasimpossibletotraceyou.Iwasworried.Godforbid,Ithoughtyoudiedintheriots!’

ForastartledinstantIce-candy-man’seyeslosetheirpoeticmistandfocusasclearlyasaneagle’sonGodmother.Butquicklyretrievinghiscomposurehesays:‘I’mtrulysorry.HadIknownyouwishedtoseemeIwouldhavepresentedmyselfearlier.’HerecitesFaiz:

‘Tumayehonashab-e-intezarguzrihai–

Talashmainhaiseherbaarbaarguzrihai!

Younevercame…Thewaitfulnightneverpassed–

Thoughmanydawnshavepassedinthewaiting.’

Astonishingly,wearenotamazedatthesurgeofwordspouringfromhim:sowelldotheysuitthepoeticmouldofhismetamorphosedcharacter.

‘Shabash!Wellsaid!’saysGodmother.

Withastart,Iscrutiniseherface.Exceptforathinsmileitisclearofallexpression.Yet,insomeindefinableway,ominous.

‘Youhavebecomeagiftedpoet!Andnot,asrumoured,aMandipimp!’Thethrustofherwordsisstillsmooth.‘Buttellme,’shesays,‘whydoyouliveintheHiraMandi?It’sthered-lightdistrict,isn’tit?Nowondertongueswag.itisnotasuitableplaceforafamilyman.’

Thelinesonthepoet’sfacetracehishurtfeelings.‘Notasuitableplace?Noplacecouldbemoresuitable,’hesays,settlingloweronhisheels.‘WhydoyouthinktheMandiliesin

theshadowoftheOldMogulFort?’

‘HowshouldIknow?Idon’tfrequentbrothels,’saysGodmother.

AnuncertainsmileflickersonIce-candy-man’sface.Butthenhecastshiseyesdown:hedoesn’tknowwhattomakeofGodmother’sremark.

‘Baijee,Idon’twantyoutomisjudgeme,’hesayscircumspectly.‘YouknowhowdeeplyIrespectyou…Iwanttoexplainsomethingalmostnooneremembersanymore…Iwantverymuchthatyouunderstand…Thenjudgeme!’

Godmothernodsslightly,gravely,herfacedeadpan.

‘TheMogulprincesbuiltHiraMandi–tohousetheirillegitimateoffspringandfavouriteconcubines,’saysIce-candy-man,speakingwithlessassurancethanbefore.‘Butyouknowourworld…Whocaresfororphans?Eachemperorprovidedonlyforhisownchildren,andneglectedthesonsofhisfather.Thegirls,lefttofendforthemselves,danced,andthemselvesbecameroyalconcubines.Andtheboysbecamemusicians,singersandpoets.Royalindulgences–inthosedaysatleast.’

HadInotbeenlookingatIce-candy-manashespoke,Iwouldnothavebelieveditwashim.Notonlyhashisvoicechanged,buthisentirespeech.Hisdeliveryisflawless,formal,likeaneducatedandculturedman’s.And,continuinginthatsameconfidingmanner,hemurmurs,‘Youaremymotherandfather…I’vetoldnoonethis–theywouldn’tunderstand…Yousee,IbelongtotheKothamyself…Itisthecradleofroyalbastards.’

Ice-candy-man’seyesshinewithacurious,pricklymixtureofshameandprideasheglancesatGodmother.

Godmother’seyesonhisfaceremainimpassive.

‘MymotherwasfromtheKotha,’hesays.‘ShemovedtoBhattiGatewhenshemarriedmyfather.HediedwhenIwasveryyoung…Hewasawell-knownpuppeteer.

‘Mymotherbelongedtotheoldstock–shecamefromtheHouseofBahadurShah.There’sastrictdistinction–theoldfamiliesfromdistinguishedhousesdon’tmixwiththenewgirlsandtheirset-up.Theyarenothingbutprostitutes–younggirlskidnappedbypimps!Anythinggoeswherethey’reconcerned.Poorgirls…Theirlotispitifulandhideous,Iadmit.Theyareforcedintoallkindsofdepravitiesonpainofdeath…andoftendie.Butweprotectourwomen.Wemarryourgirlsourselves.Noonedarelayafingeronthem!Theyareartistsandperformers…beautifulprincesseswhocommandfancypricesfortheirsinginganddancingskills!

‘BecauseofmyfamilyconnectionmywifeandIliveintheoldquarteroftheMandi.Theyhaveacceptedher.Formysake…andforthesakeofherdivinegifts!Shehasthe

voiceofanangelandthegraceandrhythmofagoddess.Youshouldseeherdance.Howshemoves!’AndtheninanotherpoeticoutburstIce-candy-mandeclaims:

‘Shelivestodance!AndItotoastherdancer’sgrace!

Princespledgetheirlivestocelebratehercelebratedface!’

IamhypnotisedbytheplayofemotiononIce-candy-man’selasticface:bythemusicinhisvoiceconjuringvoluptuousimagesofsmittenMogulprincesandofAyahdancingasstatuesofHindugoddessescometolife.Consideringhisrevealedlineageitislittlewonderhesoundslikeaculturedcourtier.Hisface,too,hasacquiredthealmond-eyed,thin-lippedprofileofthehandsomeMogulsportrayedinminiatures.

SocarriedawayamIbythevirtuosityofhisperformancethatIdon’tnoticeGodmother’sreactionuntilshespeaks.

‘Haveyousaidallyouwishtosay?’sheasks:andIturnonherlaptolookatheragain.KnowingherasIdoIcantellbythehoodeddroopofherwrinkledlids,bythesombreshapeofhertonguelesscheeks,thatsheisinacoldrage:andGodhelpIce-candy-man.

ButIce-candy-mandoesn’tknowheraswell.QuotingWali,misjudgingherfury,andasifpresentingcredentials,hedeclares:

‘Kiyamujhishqnezalimkoaabahistaahista

Keaatishgulkokartihaigulabahistaahista.

Slowly,mylovehascompelledher,slowly–

Thewaythesuntouchesopentherosebud,slowly.’

AffectedatlastbyGodmother’sstonysilence,Ice-candy-manlowershiseyes.Hisvoicedivestedoforatory,hesays,‘Iamherslave,Baijee.Iworshipher.Shecancometonoharmwithme.’

‘Noharm?’Godmotherasksinadeceptivelycoolvoice–andarchingherbacklikeascorpionitstail,sheclosesinforthekill.‘Youpermithertoberapedbybutchers,drunks,andgoondasandsayshehascometonoharm?’

Ice-candy-man’sheadjoltsbackasifit’sbeenstruck.

‘Isthatwhyyouhadherliftedoff–lethundredsofeyesprobeher–sothatyoucouldmarryher?Youwouldhaveyourownmothercarriedoffifitsuitedyou!Youareashamelessbadmash!Nimakharam!Faithless!’

‘Yes,I’mfaithless!’Stungintolerably,andtakenbysurprise,Ice-candy-manpermitshisinsolencetoconfrontGodmother.‘I’maman!Onlydogsarefaithful!Ifyouwantfaith,lethermarryadog!’

‘Oh?Whatkindofman?Aroyalpimp?Whatkindofmanwouldallowhiswifetodancelikeaperformingmonkeybeforeothermen?You’renotaman,you’realow-born,two-bitevillittlemouse!’

Ice-candy-manisvisiblyshaken.Hishazeleyesdartfrantically–likethesparrowsheoncetrappedforthemems–asheglancesatMiniAunty,theroad,me,forsympathyorameansofsuccour.Andthen,hisyelloweyesnarrowed,hestaresatGodmotherwithnakedmalevolence.

IseehimnowasGodmotherseeshim.Treacherous,dangerous,contemptible.Adestructiveforcethatmustbeannihilated.

‘Youhavepermittedyourwifetobedisgraced!Destroyedhermodesty!Livedoffherwomanhood!’saysGodmotherasifdriventorecountthechargesbeforeaninvisiblejudge.‘Andyoutalkofprincesandpoets?You’rethesonofpigsandpimps!You’renotworththetwo-cowriesonethrowsatlepers!’

Struckbythenakedpowerandfuryofherattack,Ice-candy-man’sbodytwitches.Hisheadjerksforwardandhislongfingersgougetheearthbetweenhissandals.And,asifcommittedagainsthiswilltowitnessthelitanyofhistransgressions,hisgazeclingstoGodmother’s.‘Is-savedher,’hestammers.‘Theywould’ve…killedher…Imarriedher!’

‘Icanhaveyoulashed,youknow?IcanhaveyouhungupsidedownintheOldFortuntilyourot!’

Ice-candy-manshiftshiseyestotheground.Andinthepausethatfollows,tears,andalongstrandofmucusfromhisnose,dripintothefissuresathisfeet.

‘It’snogoodcryingnow.You’llbeshownaslittlemercyasyoushowedher.’

‘Idon’tseekmercy,’hesays,hisvoicesomuffledandblockedthatitregisterslikeanafterthought.‘IfIdeservetobehung,thenhangme!’

ItisfrighteningtowatchthesilenttumultofIce-candy-man’scapitulation.Thebackofhisneckisstretchedinalong,shallowarchandhisheadhangsbetweenhisknees.Hisarmsmovehelplessly,notknowingwheretorest.

‘Getoutofmysight,youwhiningharamzada!’saysGodmother.

Ice-candy-manjustsquatsthere,excretinghispainandtears,andasIlookathim,IrealisethereismoretohisturmoilthantherageandterrorgeneratedbyGodmother’sattack.

‘It’stoolatetorepent,’saysGodmotherwithamagnitudeofgriefthatmakesmyeyessmartwithsuddentears.‘YouhavetrappedherinthepoisonousatmosphereoftheKotha.’

‘Allahismywitness,I’mmarriedtoher,’hesaysinahorrible,gruffvoice.

‘ThereisnoGodforthelikesofyoushaitans!’Godmothersaysremorselessly.‘YouarenomoremarriedtoherthanIam.’

‘Whatdoyouwantmetodo?Slitmythroat?Stabmyheart?’Hiscapliesontheground.Hisdustyhands,thenailsdarkwithdirt,trembleonhisknees.

‘RestorehertoherfamilyinAmritsar.’

‘Whatifsherefusestoleaveme?’saysIce-candy-man,asifdredgingfromadeepdoubtinhischestascrapofhope.‘Ihavebeenagoodhusband…Askher.I’vecoveredherwithgoldandsilks.I’ddoanythingtoundothewrongdoneher.Ifitweretohelptocutmyheadoff,I’dcutmyheadandlayitatherfeet!Noonehastouchedhersinceournikah.’

‘Whendidthemarriagetakeplace?’asksGodmother,unmoved.

‘InMay.’

‘ShewasliftedinFebruaryandyoumarriedherinMay?Whatwereyoudoingallthattime?’

Ice-candy-manremainssilent.

‘Whydon’tyouspeak?Can’tyoubringyourselftosayyouplayedthedrumswhenshedanced?Countedmoneywhiledrunks,pedlars,sahibs,andcut-throatsusedherlikeasewer?’Godmother’sfaceisslipperywithsweat.Herthighsbeneathmearetrembling.Ihaveapotentsenseofherpresencenow.AndwhenIinhaleIcansmellthefor-midablepowerofherattack.

‘Didyoumarryher,then,whenyourealisedthatLenny’smotherhadarrangedtohavehersenttoAmritsar?’

Ice-candy-man,hismuddiedhairfallingforwardfromhisbowedhead,remainsstill.

‘Whydon’tyouspeak?Alittlewhilebackyoucouldn’tstoptalking!’

SuddenlyIce-candy-manclencheshishairinhisfists.Hiseyesarebloodshot.Hisfaceisapuffypatchworkoftearsandmud.Hetugshishairbackinsuchawaythathisthroatswellsandbulgeslikeagoat’sbeforeaknife,andinarawandscratchyvoicehesays:‘Ican’texistwithouther.’Then,rockingonhisheelsinhisstrange,bonelessway,hepoundshischestandpoursfistfulsofdirtonhispenitent’shead.‘I’mlessthanthedustbeneathherfeet!Idon’tseekforgiveness…’

Thereisasuffocatingexplosionwithinmyeyesandhead.Ablindingblastofpityanddisillusionandasavagerage.Mysightisdisoriented.IseeIce-candy-manfloatawayinabubbleanddwindletoagreyspeckintheaftermathoftheblastandthencomesoclosethatIcanseeeveryporeandmuddycreaseinhisskinmagnifiedindazzlingluminosity.Thepopsicleman,Slavesisterandweandourchairsandthetablewiththefanskidatatremendousangletodashagainstthecompoundwallandthewallsbulgeandflyapart.Godmother’shouseandMrsPen’shouseswaycrazily,thebrickstumbling.

TheimagesblurandItrydesperatelytosucktheairintomydeflatedlungsandGodmotherholdsmyviolentlyshiveringbodytightandIhearhersayasiffromfaraway,‘Lookhowyouhaveupsetthechild!You’veturnedusallinsane!’Andshepatsmybreathlessfaceandsharplysays,‘Stopit!Stopit!Takeadeepbreath!Comeon,inhale.Everythingisgoingtobeallright!’

ShemusthavesignalledtoSlavesisterbecausetheslaveheavesherselfoffherstooland,anxietyquickeninghermovements,stoopstoliftme.Herface,too,isstreakedwithtearsandhereyesredandsheismuttering:‘Finishitnow,Rodabai,that’senough.Packhimoff.’AndIclingtoGodmother.Andstretchlikebubble-gumwhenSlavesistertriestopullmeaway.AndatasignalfromGodmothersheletsmebe.AndI,rubbingmyfaceinGodmother’stightlyboundbosom,grindtheclothbetweenmyteethandshakemyheadtillthekhaddartearsandIsmellbloodandtasteit.

‘Ouch!Stopit!You’veturnedintoapuppyhaveyou?’saysGodmotherpushingmyfaceaway.

AndwhenmyteetharepriedawayfromherbloodiedblouseandIatlastlookintohershrewd,ancienteyes,Icantellhertongueisonceagaininhercheek.

Everything’sgoingtobeallright!

Jinnah-capinhand,Ice-candy-manstandsbeforeus.Hisravagedface,cakedwithmud,hasturnedintoatragedian’smask.Repentance,griefandshockarecompressedintothemouldofhisfeatures…Andhisinflamedeyesarerawwithdespair.

Thestormthathasbeengatheringalldayrushesupthedrive,slammingopenthedoorsandwindows.Thethree-prongedeucalyptusdipsthreateninglyaboveourheads.Aswescurrytoshutthewindowsandcarrythechairsinside,wavesofmudobscurethedriveandswallowthepoet’sflutteringwhiteclothes.

Theinnocencethatmyparents’vigilance,theservants’careandGodmother’sloveshelteredinme,thatneitherCousin’scarnalcravings,northestoriesoftheviolenceofthemobs,couldquitedestroy,waslaidwastethateveningbytheemotionalstormthatragedroundme.TheconfrontationbetweenIce-candy-manandGodmotheropenedmyeyestothewisdomofrighteousindignationovercompassion.Tothedemandsofgratification–andtheunscrupulousnatureofdesire.

Tothepitilessfaceoflove.

Chapter30

JustasGodmotherfeelstheurgetodonatebloodsheisimpelledbyanurgetopopupattherightplaceinthehourofaperson’sneed.YetIamsurprisedwhenfingeringhergreysilksariandmatchingblouselaidoutonthestackoftrunksIask,‘Whereareyougoing?’andshe,afteranunintendedanddramaticpause,replies,‘I’mgoingtoseeAyah.’

Myheartstops.IfeelasifI’verunallthewayfromWarrisRoadinsteadofwalkinghere,holdingHamida’sfinger.IfIdon’tholdherfingerHamidaturnshystericalandbabbles,‘Hai!We’llberunoverbythecarsandtongas.’

ItisSaturdaymorning.AdiandCousinhavegonetothegrasslessWarrisRoadparktoplaycricket.Thatis,CousinwillplayandAdiwillprobablybeforcedtospectate.Motherisout.

Icannotspeak.Godmotherholdsmytwiggyarmbeneathmystarchedandpuffed-outsleeveandpullsmetothecot.Oldhusband,sittingbeforehisdeskonthebentwoodchair,isreadinghisprayerbook.Sibilanthissesflutterbetweenhislipsandeveryshortwhileheclearshisphlegmythroat.And,inavoicethatsoundsinaudible,andquiverswithanxiety,Ifinallyask,‘CanIcomewithyou?’

Godmotherstaressombrelybeforeherandremainsquiet.

‘Please.’Iswallowonalumpinmythroat.

‘Ican’ttakeyou,’Godmothersays.‘It’snoplaceforchildren.’

‘IwanttoseeAyah,’Isay,mylongingmakingmesighbetweenthewords.

‘IreallywishIcouldtakeyou.’

‘Whydon’tyouaskhertocomehere?Won’therhusbandbringher?’

‘Heiswillingto.Butsherefusestocome.’

IcannotbelieveAyahwouldn’twanttoseeme.Seeus.

‘Herhusbandislying,’Isayfiercely.‘He’smakingexcuses.’

‘No,sheisashamedtofaceus,’saysGodmother.

‘Ashamed?’Isaysurprised.AndevenasGodmothersays:‘Shehasnothingtobeashamedof,’IknowAyahisdeeply,irrevocablyashamed.Theyhaveshamedher.Not

thosemeninthecarts–theywerestrangers–butSharbatKhanandIce-candy-manandImamDinandCousin’scookandthebutcherandtheothermenshecountedamongherfriendsandadmirers.I’mnotveryclearhow–despiteCousin’silluminatingtutorials–butI’mcertainofherhumiliation.SensingthisImorethaneverwanttoseeAyah:tocomfortandkissheruglyexperiencesaway.

‘IwanttotellherIamherfriend,’IsaysobbingdefencelesslybeforeGodmother.AndrememberingHamida’sremarks,Icry,‘Idon’twanthertothinkshe’sbadjustbecauseshe’sbeenkidnapped.’

Ihavenevercriedthiswaybefore.Itishowgrown-upscrywhentheirheartsarebreaking.

***

MiniAuntyreturns,silentlybearinggrocerybagsandice,lookinglikeafatandelderlysari-cladwaxdollmelting.

Godmothergreetsher.‘Ithoughtthetongamanhadrunoffwithyou!Whattookyousolong?’

ItisapurelyrhetoricalsalutationandMiniAuntyneednotreplyifshedoesn’twantto.IgnoringGodmother,lookingneitherguiltynorannoyed,Slavesisterispreoccupiedwithstashingthegroceriesandsplinteringandstuffingtheiceintoathermos.

Wehearahorsesnort,andthecreakoftongawheelsoutsidethedoor.Thenasteadyliquidnoise,asofwatergushingfromahoseunderpressure.

Oldhusbandraiseshisprayingvoiceinforbiddingcensure.

‘Ummm,umM,uMM,UMM!’humsGodmotherinarisingcrescendoofdisapproval,andbreakingintospeechshesays,‘MyGod!Howdoyouexpectustositoutsidethisevening?’

‘Itwillevaporate…Youcan’timaginehowhotitis!’saysSlavesister,unperturbed.

‘Can’tI?WheredoyouthinkIlive?IntheNorthPole?’andthen,revertingtothematterinhand:‘Whatifthehorsedecidestoperformonagranderscale?Willthatevaporatetoo?HowoftenmustItellyounottoletthetongacomein?’

‘I’vetoldthetongawallahtotakecareofthat.’

‘Oh?Whatwillhedo?Diaperthehorse?’

MiniAuntycontinuesplacidlytounwraphersari,andturningmildlypleadingeyestoGodmothersays,‘Thetongawallahsaidthepoorhorsereallyhadtogetsomewaterorhe’dcollapse.’

Wehearthetongamancluckhistongueandleadhishorseandtongatothetroughattheback.

‘You’dbetterremembertosprinkletheevaporatedpuddlewithrose-waterbeforewesitout,’saysGodmothersarcastically,butinasoftertone,therebyconcedingMiniAuntyareprieveoncompassionategrounds.

‘I’vearrangedforthetongatotakeyouto–’IndeferencetomyyouthfulpresenceMiniAuntyabruptlychecksherself.Sheendsbyenigmaticallysaying,‘You-know-where,attwoo’clock.’

‘Thenyou’dbettersetaboutgettinglunchready,’saysGodmother.

***

Godmother’sfingersareslightlytrembling.Notwiththetremorofagebutwithnervousconcentrationasshedrapeshersari,withitsfinelyembroideredfloralborder,beforeaslenderhalf-mirrorembeddedinthecupboard.Herconcentrationisatributetothesixyardsofheavygreysilk,andtotheoccasionforwhichitisbeingworn.Normally,notbotheredwiththeirappearance,bothsheandSlavesisterwraptheirsariswithouttheaidofmirrors.UnlikeMother,whopivotsfastidiouslyinhighheelsinfrontofafull-lengthmirrortoadjustthehemofhersariandpreciselyarrangethedaintyfallofherpleats.Itwouldn’tbefittingifMotherdressedwithlesscircumspection.InhercaseIfeeladorningandembellishingherpersonisanobligatoryriteandnotavanity.

Godmothermovesclosertothemirror.Asshecarefullybeginstopinthebordertoherhair,MiniAunty,lookingasifshehasarrivedatadecision,suddenlyandgravelydeclares:‘IthinkI’dbettercomewithyou.You’llneedmysupport!’

HerteethclampedonatangleofU-shapedhairpinsGodmotherturnsabruptly.FacingSlavesistershesays:‘SincewhenhaveIstartedneedingyoursupportinsuchmatters?’

‘Youcan’tgotherealone,Roda.Youmusthavesomeonewithyou.’

NoticetheunembellishedRoda?MiniAuntyusesthisformofaddresstosidleintoamoredominantrole.Thishasbeenoccurringwithalarmingfrequencyoflate:andtheslavegetsawaywithit–andthemeagreRoda–withalarmingfrequency.

‘Oh,allright!Ifitmakesyoufeelanybetter,I’lltakeLennyalong,’saysGodmother,attemptingtoappearreason-ablebutonlymanagingtosounddevious.

‘Youcan’tbeserious!’exclaimsMiniAunty.

‘Whynot?Shewon’tbecontaminated–ifthat’swhatyou’reafraidof.’

‘Howcanyouevendreamoftakingthechildthere!’saysMiniAunty,hereyesbrimmingwithreproach,thechubbydiscofhercheekslengtheninginsolemnconsternation.

‘I’mnottakingherthere,’saysGodmother.‘Weareonlyvisitingasimplehousewifeinhersimplehouse.Thehousemerelyhappenstobethere.’

‘Butwhatwillhermothersay?’

‘That’sbetweenmeandhermother.Youknowperfectlywellshetrustsmyjudgement…NotlikesomeungratefulbratsIcouldname!’

‘Iknowyou…’saysSlavesister,paleandhangdog.‘ThemoreIsaythemorestubbornyoubecome.Onecan’ttellyouanything.Haveyourway…’

‘HaveIeverdoneotherwise?’

‘Oh,Iknow!Youalwayshaveyourway…’

‘Thenwhyareyouwastingmytime?’

‘Buthaveyougivenathoughttowhatpeoplemightsay?’

‘ThatI’vebecomeadancing-girl?Withbellsonmyankles?Orworse?’

ItistoomuchforSlavesister.Blinkingtearsshegoesintothekitchenandcommencesmumbling.

Cometothinkofit,I’mhearinghermumblesafteralongtime.

Attwoo’clockthetongamantapsonthedoorwiththebambooendofhiswhipandshouts:‘I’vearrived,jee.I’mparkedbythegate.’

Godmotherquicklycompressesherlipsanddaubsherfacewithtalcumpowder.Shepeersatmethroughthechalkstormand,almostshyly,winksintomyawedandsmittencountenance.Shelooksgrand.Hernobleghost-whitefaceandgenerousmouthsetofftoadvantagebytheslate-greysarianditsprettyborder.Sheismyveryownwhale–andhergreatloveformeisplaininhershiningeyes.

‘Wearegoing.Lockthedoor,’Godmothercalls,andhandinhandwestepintotheabrasiveheat.

TheincreasingcongestionanduproarinthestreetsaswepassDataSahib’stombandapproachtheBadshahimosquebarelyregistersasleaningagainstGodmotherIfallintoastuporinducedbytheheatandglareandthejoltingrhythmofthetonga.

WhenGodmothergentlyshakesmeawakewearealreadyparkedbeneathastragglingsheesham,itssmallleavesbrittlewiththeheatanddust,infrontofanarrowalley.Thetongamanhasplacedthefeedsackinfrontofhishorseandistyingthereinstotheshaft.Thesweat-darkenedanimaljuststandsthere,itsneckhanging,tooexhaustedtofeed.Precededbythetongamanwewalkintotheblessedshadeoftheconstrictedgulliesoftheoldcity.

Godmotherisnervous.Icantellfromthepressureofhergrip.Aftertheclamourofthestreetsthesilenceinthealleysisvaguelydiscomforting.Therearefewpeopleaboutandtoofewchildren.Thenakedbabiestotteringaboutthedrainsanddoorstepswhimper

listlesslyandarescoldedbyirritablemothersfrominsidewhosoundasifit’sdawninsteadofthreeintheafternoon.

Weemergeonabroaderlanewhichhastheappearanceofabazaarwithrowsofshopsatthegroundlevelandlivingquarterswithfrailarchedwindowsanddecayingwoodenbalconiesteeteringabove.Stillhalfasleepanddruggedbytheoppressivehumidityandheat,Ilookforatincan,oranythingelsetokickasIwalk,butthereishardlyanylitter.

Wewalkpasttwoyoungwomen,yawningandstretchinginfrontofastalloverflowingwithgarlandsofscarletroses,jasmineandmoundsofmarigolds.Theowner,wearingonlyalungi,isperchedlikeacontentedandcontemptuousdeityamidsthiswares.

Comingsuddenlyuponthefragranceofsprinkledflowersandtheblazeofcoloursfreshensmysenses.Thewomenchattingwiththeflower-manlooktousled,asiftheyhavejustawakenedandarestillloiteringintheshalwar-kamizestheyhavesleptin.Exceptforthebetel-leafandcigarettestallsandafeweatingplaceswheremeatandpakorasarebeingfried,thereisverylittlesignofcommerce.Theancient,roughlycarveddoorsareshutforthemostpart.AndthefewthatareopenrevealsteepflightsofnarrowstepsortwilitinteriorsIcannotseeinto.

Mypreviousexcursionsinsidetheoldcityhadbeenenlivenedbythecriesofshop-keepersandhawkersandthebawlingandshriekingofurchins;thelanesteemingwithmenandburka-veiledwomenandlitteredwiththediscardednewspaperbagsusedbyvendors.Imissthemoundsofrottingfruitandvegetablesandthebonespickedcleanbythekites,theirenormouswingsstirringinthegarbage:andthesuddenyelpofkickedmongrelsandraucousflightsofcrowsandscrapsofcardboardandrustedironandtheotherdebriseventhepoorhavenousefor.

Godmotherpincheshersariausterelybeneathherchinandmaintaininghereyesstraightinfrontofhermarchesregallybehindthetongaman.Hersari,catchingthebreezethecunninglystructuredalleysmiraculouslygenerateinanotherwisewindlesscity,billowsgreylyabouthershouldersandback.Noneofthewomenhereisveiled.Theboldgirls,withshort,permedhair,showingtracesofstalemake-up,stareatusasifwearefreaks.Theywhisperandburstintogiggleswhenwepassandburytheirfacesineachother’sshouldersandnecks.Theircrumpledkamizesaretooshortandthepencha-bottomsoftheirshalwarstoowide.EvenIcantelltheyarenotwellbroughtup.Ihaveneverseenwomenofthisclasswithcroppedandfrizzedhair:norusingthebroadandcomfortablegesturesofmen.Thefewmen,insingletsandfadedlungis,scratchtheircarelesslybaredstomachsastheyloiterinthelane,orpausetojokewiththegirls.Somehavetheirhandsinsidetheirlungisandarecleaningthemselvesafterurinatingasprescribed,unconsciouslyindulginginwhatI’veheardsnidelydescribedas‘thenationalpastime’.

Ourtongamanhaltsbeforeaweathereddoorwithdeepgrooves.Iglimpsethechainholdingthepanelsclosedfrominside.‘Thisistheaddress,Baijee,’hesays,andatanod

fromGodmother,battersthedoorwithhishand.

Thereisaninstantshout:‘Coming!’followedbythelightfootedpatterofalightweightpoethasteningdownthesteps.Thedooropensandthepoetblinkshiskohlrimmedeyesintheglare.Ice-candy-manlookssubdued,flustered,honoured.DisplayingtheexquisitecourtesyofMogulcourtiers,spoutingsnatchesoffelicitousverse,pickingmeupwithonehandandsupportingGodmotherwiththeotherasweslowlymountthesteps–Godmotherpausingtocatchherbreath–Ice-candy-manushersusintothesittingroom.GuidingGodmothertoasofacoveredinglossygreenvelvet,headjuststhecushionsbehindheranddrawsapegtableconvenientlyclose.Thenhebreathlesslysays:‘I’llfetchMumtaz,’anddisappearsbehindthepinkandwhitecheckedcurtains.

‘So!’whispersGodmother,blinkingandnoddingimpishly.‘HehaschristenedourayahMumtaz!’

‘Ilikethename,’Isay.

Ithinkitfittingthatacourtier’swifebenamedafteraMogulqueen.Andtheroom,too,isbefitting:longandnarrow,filledwithornatechairscoveredinvelvet,sportinglittletableswithcrocheteddoiliesandthickglassandbrassvasescrammedwithredpaperpoppies.Thearchedwindowsareshadedbyreedscreensandthewallsareagleamingpink.Theroomhasthegratifyingappealofacoolanddelicioustutti-fruttiice-cream.

AndthenAyahcomes:teeteringonhighheels,trippingonthemassivedividedskirtofhergarara,janglinggoldbangles.Hereyesareloweredandherheaddrapedinagold-fringedandgauzyredghoongat.Ajewelledtikanestlesonherforeheadandbunchesofpearlsandgolddanglefromherears.Ice-candy-manguideshisrougedandlipstickedbridetositbesideGodmother.GodmotherlightlystrokesMumtaz’scoveredheadandsays:‘Blessyoumydaughter…Livelong.’

Ifeelfrightfullyshy.IhadexpectedtoleaponAyahandhughertobits.Butnowthatsheishere,intheawesomeshapeofabride,Icandonomorethanshiftuneasilyinmychairandstareather.Inoticethetinypiecesoftinselglitterstuckonherchinandcheeks.

‘Lennybaby,aren’tyougoingtoembracemybride?’Ice-candy-manasks.

AndAyahraiseshereyestome.

Wherehavetheradianceandtheanimationgone?Canthesoulbeextractedfromitslivingbody?Hervacanteyesarebiggerthanever:wide-openedwithwhatthey’veseenandfelt:widereventhanthefrighteningsaucersanddinnerplatesthatdescribethewatchfulorbsofthethreedogswhoguardthewickedTinderBoxwitches’treasuresinundergroundchambers.ColderthantheicethatlurksbehindthehazelinIce-candy-man’sbeguilingeyes.

AtlastAyahcastsherlidsdown:andbowingherhead,extendsherhennaedhandstome.Imoveawkwardlyintothevoluminousskirtofherbrocadegarara.Andthroughthe

pricklingbrocadeandsilverlaméofherkamizeatlastfeelthesoftandroundedcontoursofherdiminishedflesh.Sheburiesherheadinmeandburiesmeinallherfinery;andinthedarkandmuskyattarofherperfume.

LeavingMumtaztositawkwardlywithusIce-candy-mangoesinsidetomakethetea.

GodmothermovestotheedgeofthesofaandtenderlyraisesMumtaz’schin,saying,‘Letmehaveagoodlookatourbride.’

Ayah’sface,withitsdemurelyloweredlidsandtinseldust,bloomslikeaduskyroseinGodmother’shands.Therougeandglitterhighlightthesweetcontoursofherfeatures.Shelooksachinglylovely:aswhenshegazedatMasseurandinwardlyglowed.Buttheillusionisdispelledthemomentsheopenshereyes–nottimorouslylikeabride,butfrenziedly,starkly–andsays:‘Iwanttogotomyfamily.’Hervoiceisharsh,gruff:asifsomeonehasmutilatedhervocalcords.

EvenGodmothercan’tbearthelookinhereyes.Shegentlyremovesherhand,andAyah’sunsupportedfacecollapsesandisagainhalfhiddenintheghoongat.Godmothercomposesherselfwithavisibleeffort.Andthelookofshockandpityfading,sittingtautontheedgeofthesofa,sheatlastsays:‘Isn’thelookingafteryou?’

Mumtaznodsherheadslightly.

‘What’shappenedhashappened,’saysGodmother.‘Butyouaremarriedtohimnow.Youmustmakethebestofthings.Hetrulycaresforyou.’

‘Iwillnotlivewithhim.’Againthatcoarse,raspingwhisper.

IhavemovedtomychairacrosstheroombutIhearAyah’sdiscordantmurmursclearly.(ItisnotwithoutreasonMiniAuntyhasdesignatedmytalentedears‘cricketears’.)

‘Doeshemistreatyou…inanyway?’Godmotheraskswithuncharacteristichesitancy.

‘Notnow,’saysMumtaz.‘ButIcannotforgetwhathappened.’

‘Thatwasfated,daughter.Itcan’tbeundone.Butitcanbeforgiven…Worsethingsareforgiven.Lifegoesonandthebusinessoflivingburiesthedebrisofourpasts.Hurt,happiness…allfadeimpartially…tomakewayforfreshjoyandnewsorrow.That’sthewayoflife.’

‘Iampastthat,’saysMumtaz.‘I’mnotalive.’

Godmotherleansbackandwithdrawsthelargecambrichandkerchieftuckedintoherblouse.Shewipesherforehead.

‘Whatifyourfamilywon’ttakeyouback?’sheasks.

‘Whethertheywantmeornot,Iwillgo.’

Weheartheclatterofill-fittedcupsandsaucers.ThecurtainbulgesandIce-candy-mancomesthrough,carefullybearingatray.Hepausesinfrontofthecurtainandmanifesting

anawedandfelicitousaspect,sweepinghisdramaticeyesfromGodmothertothepinkwallsofhishouse,recitesGhalib’sfamouscouplet:

‘’Tisamiraclewondrousthatyouhavecome:

Marvelling,Ilookfromyoutothewallsofmyhouse…’

HeplacesthetrayonasmalltablenearGodmotherand,interminablystirringtheteawithaspoontodissolvethesugar,deferentiallyhandsherthecup.‘Isitstrongenough?’heenquires.‘Moremilk?Sugar?’

Godmothertakesasip.‘It’sallright,’shesaystersely.

Turningtome,flourishinganautumnalforestofpopsicles,Ice-candy-mansays,‘LookwhatIhaveformyLennybaby.’

Itaketwosticks.Oneforeachhand.

Ayahrefusesherteawithashakeofherloweredhead.Ice-candy-manstoopsand,holdingthecupclosetoAyah’sfingers,coaxes,‘Havesome,merikasam.DrinkitforBaijee’ssakeatleast…’

‘Idon’twantany,’shesaysharshly.Whilehepassesthepastrywiththelittledabsofjam,hisanxiouscourtier’seyeskeepalightingonMumtaz.AssumingtheroleofthemisusedloversodeartoUrdupoets,hequotesMir:

‘Haiashiqikebeechsitamdekhnahilutf

Marjanaankhemoondkekuchhunarnahin.

’Tisnothing…torollupone’seyesanddie.

Ienduremylover’styrannywide-eyed.’

Ice-candy-manappearstohavesensedthecontentoftheexchangebetweenGodmotherandhisbride.Maintaininganervousstreamofchatter,quotingsnatchesofpoetry,pressingustoeatanddrink,heattemptstoconcealhismisgiving.

‘I’llgetthekebabs,’hesaysafterawhile,lookingatourfaceshesitantly,seekingourapproval.‘Theyshouldbedonebynow.’

Godmothernodsbriefly.

Ice-candy-manleavestheroomand,slippingtothefloorlikeafloatingbundleofcrumpledsilk,AyahgraspsGodmother’slegs.‘Please–Ifallatyourfeet,Baijee–pleasegetmeawayfromhim.’

‘Areyousurethat’swhatyouwant?’saysGodmother,bendingtolookintoherface.‘Youmightregretyourdecision…Youshouldthinkitover.’

‘Ihavethoughtitover…Iwanttogotomyfolk.’

‘Let’sseewhatIcando,’Godmothersaysgently.‘I’lltrymybest.’

AyahissniffingandrubbingherfaceonGodmother’slegs.

‘Getup,mydaughter…Havefaith…Havepatience,’saysGodmotherholdingherandtryingtopullhertothesofa.

Steppingonandgettingentangledinherenormousskirts,Mumtazscramblestorisejustasthepoetenterswithafragrantdishofkebabs.HequicklyreachesforAyahandhelpshertositonthesofa.

Thepoet’smannerissubdued,hisfacedrawn,apprehensive:andhiseyes,redwiththestrainofcontaininghistears,hovercaressinglyonAyah.TheyflittoGod-motherinmuteappeal.

GodmotherstrokesAyah’sback.Ayahishuddledover,silentlyweeping,herbodytrembling.‘Havepatience,daughter,havefaith.Go.Goandwashyourface,’saysGodmother,helpingAyahtostandup.Gatheringherskirtwithbothhands,Ayahclumsilystaggersoutoftheroomonherunnaturalheels.

Godmother’smouthisset.SheturnsheraustereeyesonIce-candy-man.

‘Howlonghasshebeenlikethis?’

‘Likehow?’

‘Emptiedoflife?Despairing?’

Inaslow,coilingmovementIce-candy-mansquatsdirectlyinfrontofGodmother.‘Thepastisbehindher,’hesays.Takingthekitchenragfromhisshoulderhewipeshisface.Itisasifhehaswipedoffallartifice,allpride:hishumilityanddespairaremanifest.‘Icannothelpthepast,’hesays.‘Butnowshehaseverythingtolivefor.’

Godmother’seyesonthepoet’sexposedfacearedis-passionate.Cold.AndglidingforwardonhishaunchesIce-candy-manclaspsherhandsinbothhisandplacesthemonhisbowed,penitent’shead.

‘Please.Pleasepersuadeher…explaintoher…Iwillkeepherlikeaqueen…likeaflower…I’llmakeherhappy,’hesays,andsuccumbingtothepressureofhispent-upmiserystartsweeping.

‘Weshallsee,’saysGodmother:andinacoldlysignifi-cantgesturewithdrawsherhandsfromIce-candy-man’shead.Heremainslikethat,stranded,crouchedforward,hisfacehiddenbylongblackstrandsoffallinghair.Afterwhatseemslikehoursheturnstome,swivellingonhishaunches,andhisbeguilingeyes,weighedwithinsupportableuncertainties,pleadhiscause.

ThelongerIlookathimthemorewillingIamtobebeguiledbythosetearing,forlorneyes.Howlonghavetheybeenlikethat?WhenIthinkofAyahIthinkshemustgetawayfromthemonsterwhohaskilledherspiritandmutilatedher‘angel’s’voice.AndwhenIlookatIce-candy-man’snakedhumilityandgriefIseehimasundeservingofhisbeloved’sheartlessdisdain.

Heisadeflatedpoet,acollapsedpedlar–andwhileAyahishauntedbyherpast,Ice-candy-manishauntedbyhisfuture:andhismacabrefuturealreadyappearstobestampedonhisface.

***

IamfeverishtoseeCousin.Ihaven’ttoldanyoneaboutourvisitwithAyah.NotevenAdi.IsitonElectric-aunt’sverandawaitingfortheschoolbustodelivermycousin.Hamidaisinthekitchentalkingtothecook.Electric-auntisinside,whirlingherselfintohersari,issuingabatteryofinstructionstohersweepressandatthesametimelisteningtothefouro’clocknews.

TheminuteIseethebusIruntothegatetoreceivemycousin.Theschoolbus,windowscrammedwithboys’faces,lurchesawayspewingexhaustsmokeandCousinscowlsatme.Hedoesn’tlikemeseeingallthoseboys–orallthoseboyslookingatme.Besideshe’sembarrassedtobeseenassociatingwithsuchaskinnygirl.

Cousinisflushedandsweatyandweigheddownbyhisschoolbag.Irelievehimoftheprecariouslybulginggeometryboxinhishandandsay,‘IwenttoseeAyahandIce-candy-manyesterday!’

Cousincomestoadeadstopjustinsidethegate.

‘Where?’

‘Attheirhouse.’

Cousinlooksamazed.Thenpale,andveryserious,heleadsmeintotheshadeofthegardeniahedgeinfrontofthegardenwall.WesitonthewarmanddustygrassandCousinenquires,grimly:‘Whotookyouthere?’

‘Godmother.’

‘Godmother?’Cousinisincredulous.Heisalsodisconcerted.

‘Shedidn’twanttotakeme.ButIcried…andshetookmealong.’

‘Sheshouldn’thave,’saysCousin,inatoneofvoicethatsuggestsheisGodmother’sage,andGodmotheranaughtylittlegirl.

‘Okay,’hecontinues,inthesamecensorioustone.‘TellmewhatyousawintheHiraMandi.Tellmewhathappened.Tellmeeverything.’

Itellhimeverything.ItellhimthedetailsofAyah’sdespairandthespurnedcourtier-poet’sanguish.

‘Isthatall?’Cousinappearsdisappointed,andatthesametimemollified.‘Youwouldhaveseenalotmoreifyou’dgonethereafterdark.’

‘Likewhat?’Isayfeelingthateitherheisdeliberatelyaggravatingme,orweareatcrosspurposes.

‘Girlsdancingandsinging–andamorouspoets.Andyouwouldhavebeenraped.’

‘What’sthat?’

(Ineverlearn,doI?)

‘I’llshowyousomeday,’saysCousingivingmeaqueerlook.

Idon’tpressthepoint.‘Whatdoyouthinkwillhappennow?’Ienquireinstead.

‘IfGodmothersaysshe’llhelpAyahgetaway,she’llgetheraway.’

Yousee?EveryonehasconfidenceinGodmother.

‘WhatdidyousayAyah’snewnamewas?’Cousinasks.

‘Mumtaz.’

‘That’sanicenameforadancing-girl,’saysCousin,rollingthewordsandrollinghiseyesandleeringhorribly.

‘Can’tyoutalkstraight?’Isay,readytohithim.

‘You’vebeentotheKotha!Youvisitthedancing-girls!andyouwantmetotalkstraight?’

‘Ithinktheheathasscrambledyourbrains,’Ideclare,standingupindisgust.

CousinyanksthehemofmyskirtandIthudbackonthescratchygrass.

‘Ifyouwantmetostay,’Isay,‘you’dbettermindhowyoutalk!’

‘Okay,’saysCousinchanginghistoneandcomposinghisfeatures.‘Youwantmetotellyouwhatgoesonthere?’

Heknowshehasmehooked.

‘Aslongasyoutellmeanddon’tstartdemonstrating,’Isay,warninghimwithmyvoiceandalsoawaggingfinger.

Iwaitformymessagetosinkin,andthenIask,‘What’sKotha?GodmotherhadusedthewordwhentalkingtoIce-candy-man:andnowCousin.

‘TheHiraMandi,’explainsCousin,‘isalsoknownastheKotha.Roof.Becausethedancing-girlscarryontheirmainbusinessupstairs.’

AsCousintalksafascinatingpictureemerges.

TheKothaistheculturalpulseofthecity.Itiswherepoetsareinspired,wheretheirsongsaresungandmadefamousbythegirls,andsinging-boys.Itisalsoasteppingstonetofilmstardomforthenautch-girls.ThegirlsaretaughttosinganddanceandtalkelegantlyandlookprettyandbeattractivetomenitsoundsverymuchlikeacrossbetweenaSwissfinishingschoolafemalecousinofmineinBombaywassenttoandaSchoolfortheFineandPerformingArts.

AftermullingoverthecomplexitiesofthediscourseontheculturedKotha–whichIknowisalsothecradleofroyalty,Ienquire:‘Butwhatarepimps?’Anotherwordthatarousespeculiarreactionsinpeople.

‘Theylookafterthedancing-girls,’saysCousin.

‘Akindofmaleayah?’

‘No,’saysCousin,soundingcondescendingandpainfullyadenoidal.‘Theyprotectthegirlsfromdrunksandlookaftermoneythegirlsget.Theybringmenandintroducethemtothedancing-girls.’

I’mbeginningtounderstand.Thepimpsareakindofadultandmercantilecupid.

IalsohaveaninsightintothepotentcreativeforcegeneratedwithintheKothathathasmetamorphosedIce-candy-mannotonlyintoaMogulcourtier,butintoaMandipoet.Nowonderhefountspoetryasifhepoppedoutofhismother’swombspoutingrhymingsentences.

Butallthisstilldoesn’texplainthetwitteringflapandthehush-hushanymentionoftheHiraMandievokes.OrthecontemptinwhicheverybodyappearstoholdthisIn-stituteofCulture.

…OrthegirlswholookedtooateaseloiteringintheMandigulliesandlackedthedocilemodestyofproperlybroughtupMuslimwomen.

Ihavemanyquestions,butCousinappearstohavehadhisfillofenlighteningme.Heishungryandthirstyandwegoinside.

Chapter31

‘DrSelzer!Comehere.Comehere,’Motheryellscheerfullyfromtheveranda:summoninghimalsowithasnappywaveofherhand.SheispouringteaforMrPhailbus,hisdaughterMaggie,andhissonTheo.SincetheyareIndianChristianstheyareamongthefewremainingneighbourswestillknow.

TheShankars’roomsatthebackhavebeenlettoDrSelzer.TheGermandoctordoesnotinhabittheroomsasmuchaspossessthem.Helivesaloneandhepadlockstheroomswhenhegoesout.Hehasonlyoneservant.

Thedoctor’ssteps,deflectedfromtheircoursebymyMother’svoice,falter.Andturningroundpolitelyheapproachesusfromthedrive.

‘Iwasjustthisminutetalkingaboutyou!’warblesMotherenthusiastically,flashingallherbeautifulteethinamagicalsmile.

DrSelzeristallerthanCol.Bharucha.TallereventhanthemurderedInspectorGeneralofPolice,MrRogers.Butheismuchlessintimidating.HelacksCol.Bharucha’schargeofthunderandthedepartedpoliceman’sI’m-in-charge-hereairofhaughtiness.Heispolite:andassuredinasubdued,understatedway.Andthoughhedoesn’ttalkmuchIcantellfromtheexpressiononhisfacethatheisagentlegentleman.HekeepssomuchtohimselfIthinkbecausehe’sshy.

DrSelzerpractiseshiscallingintworoomshehasrentedonBirdwoodRoad,behindWarrisRoad.Oneroomisoccupiedbyaself-trainedandindigenouschemistwhodeciphersanddispensestheprescriptions.

Thedoctorwalkstoandfromhisoffice.Hesaysheneedstheexercise.HesayshewillbuyacarwhenhiswifecomesfromGermany.EvenFatherlikeshim.Motherissoimpressedbyhisdoctoringthatshehastransferredmydiminishinglimp–andsundrycolds,coughsandattacksofdiarrhoea–tohiscareandtakenituponherselftopromotehispractice.BetweenhispermanentpresidencyoftheParseeAnjumanandhisthrongingpatientsCol.Bharuchahasbecometoobusyinanycase.

MrPhailbus,whoisaretiredmagistrate–andabuddinghomeopathbesides–standsuptoshakehands.MrPhailbus’skindnessandcongenialitytwinkleinhisdarkeyes.HissereshockofcroppedwhitehairbarelyclearstheGermandoctor’sshoulders.Theo,lean,reservedanddarkasathundercloud,alsoshakesDrSelzer’shand.

‘MrsSethiwasjusttellingusallaboutyou,’saysMaggieaffably.Sheiscomfortablyensconcedinthechair,oneslipperlessfootrestingjauntilyonherred-satin-shalwaredthigh.ShewigglesherdustytoesinvitinglyandDrSelzer,withquietresignation,settlesdownbesideher.

‘LookatLenny!’Motherexclaims,yankingmeclosertothePhailbusesforbetterobservation.‘Isn’tshelookingbetteralready?’

‘Muchbetter.Muchbetter,’murmurthethreePhail-buses,noddingtheirheads.

‘Eatandrun!Eatandrun!That’sallshe’sdoneallyear!’saysMother,lovinglyandgraphicallysqueezingbothmybottoms.‘It’sawondershehasanybottomleft.’

‘Tch,tch,tch,’saysMaggiePhailbussympathetically.

‘Look,’saysMother.Jackinguptheskirtofmystarchedpinkfrockandtherimofmyknickersshepointsoutasmallincisionandbumpinmygroin.‘Heinsertedthepillhere:rightundertheskin:andovernightherdysenterywasfinished!Haveyoueverheardofamoebicdysenterybeingcuredjustlikethat?’Shesnapsherfingers.

Headsnodagainandeyeswideninwonderasthespellofmymother’svoiceconjurestheJewishdoctorintoasavagewizardandmycureintoafeatofunparalleledsorcery.

‘He’sexcellent!Itellyou,he’sexcellent!’assertsMotherexuberantly.‘Lenny,walk!’commandsMother,andlikeaperformingpoodleIparadeupanddownbeforethePhailbuses,takingcaretoplacemyawkwardheelonthefloor.

‘See?’saysMothertriumphantly.‘He’scuredherlimp!’

DrSelzerstretcheshislipsinamildsmileandhiseyes,assuredyetshy,searchherfaceforacluetohisrelease.

ButMotherhasnomindtolethimgoyet.Inherzealaspromoterandtown-crierofDrSelzer’sgeniusshehasneglectedMrPhailbus’saccomplishments:andbeingscrupulouslyfairsheinformsDrSelzer–inanawedwhisperthatportendsrevelations–thatMrPhailbusisahomeopath:anothermiracleworker!HoldinghershapelylipsandchiselledchinintherefinedandmanneredwaysheassumeswhentalkingtoEnglishmenandothersofthewhitespecies,shesays:‘GodblessourMrPhailbus.DoyouknowIhadacystthatbiginsidehere?’Shegathersherfingersintoafistandwavesthefistdiscreetlyandvaguelyinthedirectionofherlowerabdomen.‘Eventhedatefortheoperationwasfixed.ItwasjustbychancethatItoldMrPhailbusaboutit.Hesaid:“Letmehaveatry.Ifmypowdersworkyoumayspareyourselfanoperation.”Iknowhomeopathyisharmless.SoIhadoneofthosesweetpowdersofhisbeforegoingtobed.Thenextmorningthecysthadmelted!Icouldn’tfeelit:justalittlebitofdischarge.Col.Bharuchawasamazed!Hesaidhehadneverseenacystvanishlikethat!’

MrPhailbus’sgentleeyesbeamandtwinkleabovehishalf-moonglassesandDrSelzerlooksmildlyandsuitablyimpressed.

AtthispointIbecomeawareofasuddencommotioninRosy-Peter’scompound.Mingledwiththethudofhoovesandthecreakingofwoodenwheelsaretheraisedvoicesofmensquabblingandcursingandthesoundsofrunningfeetandofcombat.Wecockourearsandexchangealertglances.Andtakingadvantageofourmomentaryinat-tentionDrSelzer,discreetlymurmuringhisgoodbyes,slipsaway.

MotherandI,followedbythePhailbuses,rundowntheverandasteps.ImamDinisalreadystandingonthehandykitchenstoollookingoverthewallandHariandYousafarescramblingontoitforaring-sideview.

‘Whathappened?’Mothershouts.

Hamida,herheadcovered,ishoveringexcitedlynearthemen.Shedirectsasqueakystreamofsentencesatusthatwecannotmakeanythingoutof.

‘Oye,Sardarjee,stopit!You’llkillhim!’shoutsImamDin.

Moti-alias-David-Masihisrunningupfromtheback,followedbyhiswifeandprogenyandparentsandsistersandtheotherinhabitantsoftheservants’quarters.Thesoundsofcombatincrease.AmanbellowsinpainandthenbeltsoutabreathlessstringofvintagePunjabicursesinahoarse,wailingvoice.Hari-alias-Himat-AliandYousafjumpthewallanddisappearontheotherside.

‘Willsomeonetellmewhat’sgoingon?’Mothershoutsinanimperiousfrenzy.

IclimbaboardthekitchenstoolandclamourtobepickedupbyImamDinandheliftsmeupandsitsmeonthewall.

Threehorse-drawncartsarecrowdedanyoldhowtothefarsideofourneighbours’compoundandinfrontofthem,quiteclosetothewall,isthesceneofbattle:anentwinedjumbleofarmsandlegsandtornclothingtumblingthroughameshofsnarledhair.Yousaf,HimatAliandtheothermenintheforefrontaretryingtorestrainandlifttheheftySikhguard.TheSikhisentwinedwithsomeoneonthefloorandisviciouslyattackingandbellowing:‘Dog!Mother-fucker!Sonofanowl!’

Justthenthemensucceedinpullingthefightersapartandslowly,assistedbyseveralpairsofhandsanddustinghisclothes,amanarisesfromthedust.Hisfaceandarmsaregrimedwithbloodanddirtandhishandistwistedatanunnaturalangle.Someonewipeshisfacewithawetragandastheman,inobviouspain,pushestheragaway,Iseefranticambereyes.

‘It’stheIce-candy-man,’IscreamtoMother.‘They’vebeatenhimup!’

Agroupofmenhastilybundlehimintoacartandthreescruffy-lookinggoondasinsingletsandlungisjumpinafterhim.Oneofthem,standingupinthecarriage,whipsthe

horsesavagelyandthecart,followedbytheothercarts,groansandcreaksdowntherutteddrive.

TheremainingmengrouparoundtheoutragedSikhwhoishollering:‘I’llbreakthebastard’snecknexttime!I’veneverhadtroublebefore!Letanyonetouchthewomen…SeewhatI’lldototheircocksandballs!Theyaremysistersandmothers!’Hethumpshismassivechest.Hisknee-lengthhair,mauledbyIce-candy-man,isindramatic,spikydisarray.Themenstareathiminwondermentandnodtheirheads.

ImamDinplucksmeoffthewallanddepositsmenearHamida.Motherisyellingatthegate.TrailedbyHamidaIruntoherasMotherscreamsafterthedepartingcart,‘Duffaho!Showyourblackenedfacesatsomeoneelse’sdoor!Thatscoundrel!Hecan’tdeceivemeagain!IfhedaresshowhisfaceI’llcallthepoliceandhavehimhungupsidedown!’

Sheisflushedandfumingandpantinginafierceway.HerpenetratingvoiceIamsurecanbeheardbythemeninthedisappearingcarts.

MaggieandMrPhailbustrytosootheMother.MrPhailbus,whohasthepowertohealandcalminhishands,strokesMother’sheadandshouldersandMother’sragesubsidessomewhat.ThePhailbusessaygoodbyeatthegateandsaunteraway,talkinginsubduedvoices,andMothermarchesupourdrivewithapreoccupiedexpressionthatbetraysthebattlesheisstillengagedinwiththeobjectofherrecriminations.

HamidaandIruntothebackandrushupthestairstotheservants’roof.Thewomenandchildrenfromthequartersarealreadylookingovertheshortparapetwallintothecourtyard.SinceitwouldbeimproperforMotiandHaritolookatthewomen,theyaresquattingatapolitedistance,anxiousforwhatevernewsofAyahtheycanacquiresecond-hand.Thewomeninthecourtyardappearagitated.Theyflutterinandoutoftheroomsandanswerourinsistentquerieswithmoreanimationthantheyhaveeverdisplayedbefore.Theirvoicesriseuptousfromupturnedfaces:Ayahisexhausted.She’sallright.Shedoesn’twishtoseeyou…bestleaveheralone.She’sbeingregistered.

‘Letherbe.It’lltakehoursifshe’sbeingregistered,’saysHamida,slappingherforeheadinagestureofsympathy,andtalkingfromexperience.‘They’llbeaskingherahundred-and-onequestions,andfillingoutahundred-and-oneforms.’SheisreferringtotheclerksfromtheMinistryfortheRehabilitationofRecoveredWomen.‘Yes,sister,letherdoasshewishes…’saythewomenontheroof.

AndIchant:‘Ayah!Ayah!Ayah!Ayah!’untilmyheartpoundswiththechantandthechildrenontheroofpickingitupshoutwithalltheirheart:‘Ayah!Ayah!Ayah!Ayah!’andourchantflowsintothepulseofthewomenbelow,andthewomenontheroof,andtheybeattheirbreastsandcry:‘Hai!Hai!Hai!Hai!’reflectingthehistoryoftheircumulativesorrowsandthesorrowsoftheirMuslim,Hindu,SikhandRajputgreat-grandmotherswhoburntthemselvesaliveratherthansurrendertheirhonourtotheinvadinghordesbesiegingtheirancestralfortresses.

TheSikhguard,noisilysplashinghimselfatthetapoutsidethegate,standsuptolookatus–andwhenhebeholdsonlythewomenandchildrenontheroof,heholdshispeace–andonceagainsettlestowashthebloodandmudfromhisclothesandhair.

‘Ayah!Ayah!Ayah!’wechantand‘Hai!Hai!Hai!’theweepingwomen:andsupportedbytwooldwomenAyahappearsinthecourtyard.Shelooksupatusoutofglazedandunfeelingeyesforamoment,asifwearestrangers,andgoesinagain.

Iinstituteavehementandimportunateenquiry.AfteragreatdealofpainstakingprobingandpryingIferretoutafairlyaccurateaccountoftheeventsthatledtoAyah’sextraditionfromtheHiraMandi.

ThelonganddiversereachofGodmother’stentaculararmisclearlyevident.ShesetanentireconglomerateinmotionimmediatelyafterourvisitwithAyahandsingle-handedlyengenderedthesocialandmoralclimateofretributionandjusticerequiredtorehabilitateourfallenAyah.

Everythingcametoaheadwithinafortnight.Whichinthenormalcourseofevents,unstructuredbyGodmother’sstratagems,couldhavebeenconsignedtotheingeniousbureaucraticeternityofatoddlernationgreenlyflutteringitsflag–withawhitestriptorepresentitsminorities–andacrescentandstar–fromtheNationalAssemblybuildingbehindtheunqueenedgardenanditsevisceratedmarblemarquee.

Brand-newflagsflutter,too,fromthefiligreedturretsofthepinkHighCourtandtheGeneralPostOfficeandothergovernmentofficesandthenewfrontsofbazaarshopsintheShalmiandGowalmandiandtheoilandengineeringcompanies–thoseubiquitousvisitantsfromforeignlands–andthedomesandminaretsofnewmosqueseruptingalloverLahore…somebeautifulaspoemsandsomebe-draggled.

Andarmedwiththemightofasmallandflutteringgreenflagaposseofpolicemeninajeep–andawiredblackvan–squeezedtheirwayrightintotheconstricted,drain-dividedheartoftheHiraMandiandstoppedbeforethepopsicleman’ssplintereddoor.Thepolice,wavingsignedpapersandbatons,swarmedthroughtheroomsofIce-candy-man’sKothaandfindingAyahtheretookheraway,awillingaccompanist,totheblackvan.AndalltheMandipimpsandpoetsandmusicians…andalltheflower-sellers,prostitutes,butchers,cigaretteandpaanvendors,wrestlersandtoughsoftheculturedKothacoulddonothingaboutit.NordoIce-candy-man’sthreats,pleading,remonstrance,bellows,declamations,courtlymanners,resourcefulnessorwailingimpedetheprogressionofthevaninitsdeterminationtodepositAyah,withherscantbelongingswrappedinclothbundlesandasmalltintrunk,attheRecoveredWomen’sCamponWarrisRoad.TobefollowedthereinthreegallopingcartsbyIce-candy-manandhiscronies–alltheiroutrageandbrokenbonesandpimpyinfluencetonoavail.

Chapter32

Givemethe(mystic)winethatburnsallveils,

Thewinebywhichlife’ssecretisrevealed,

Thewinewhoseessenceiseternity,

Thewinewhichopensmysteriesconcealed.

Liftupthecurtain,givemepowertotalk.

Andmakethesparrowstrugglewiththehawk.

(Iqbal)

Ice-candy-manhastakentopatrollingWarrisRoad:hisbrokenleftarmsupportedinaslingandpressedtohischestasifaffirmingatruth.

SometimeshesquatsacrosstheroadfromourwallandsometimesinsideRosy-Peter’scompound–patiently,andfromadistance,watchingthetin-sheetgates.OccasionallyherecitesZauq:

‘Whydidyoumakeahomeinmyheart?

Inhabitit.BoththehouseandIaredesolate.

AmIathiefthatyourwatchmanstopsme?

Tellhim,Iknowthisman.Heismyfate.’

Theguardisgettingusedtohispresence;andtohispoeticoutbursts.WhenhefirstspiedhimtheSikhadvancedthreateningtotearhimlimbfromlimbandstuffhisgenitalseverywhichwhere.Ourhousehold,attractedtothewallbytheshouting,sawIce-candy-man’ssplinteredarmraisedtodefendhimselffromtheblows,andhistearingeyes,andImamDinandYousafshouted:‘Lethimbe,yaar,he’sharmless.’

TheSikhmerelypulledthepopsicle-mantohisfeetbyhisunbrokenandfrailarmandIce-candy-manmeeklywalkedaway.

EventheSikhhasgivenwaytohisindefatigablepersistenceandnoweyeshimwithacertainawe.ForIcy-candy-manisacquiringanewaspect–thatofamoonstruckfakirwhohasrenouncedtheworldforhisbeloved:beitwomanorGod.RepeatingacoupletbyFaizasifitisaprayer,hemurmurs:

‘Thereareotherwoundsbesidesthewoundsoflove–

Othernightsbesidespassionatenightsoflove–’

Drivenmore,Isuspect,byprivatedemonsthanbyfearofMother’sthreats,Ice-candy-manhasnotsteppedinsideourgates.Sometimeshebringswithhimhisthermosofpopsiclesanddoesbusinessinadesultoryfashion,givingawaymoreicesthanhesells.Andsometimes,whentheSikhguardaccompaniesourunseeingandunfeelingAyahtoMrPhailbusforhomeopathictreatment,Ice-candy-mansquatspatientlyoutsidethePhailbuses’wall.

OftenIaccompanyAyahtoMrPhailbus’s;andwhenwewalkpastthecandy-man,hegreetsuscourteouslyanddoesnotstareatAyah,butcastshiseyesdown.Ayahbehavesasifheisinvisible.And,hisovergrownhairshadinghiseyes,hesometimesmurmursacoupletbyanotherromanticpoet,Ghalib:

‘Mypassionhasbroughtmetoyourstreet–

WherecanInowfindthestrengthtotakemeback?’

Ayahbehavesasifheisinaudibletoo.

Hehasbecomeatrulyharmlessfellow.Myheartnotonlymelts–itevaporateswhenIbreatheout,leavingmefaintwithpity.Eventheguardletsdownhisguardandattimes,wheninthemoodforcompany,squatsbyIce-candy-man,gleaningwisdomfromhiscommentsonlifeanditswaysandthewaywardwaysofGodandmenandwomen,untilit’stimetoaccompanyAyahback.Then,Zauq’spoemsandIce-candy-man’svoicehumminginourminds,wemurmur:

‘Don’tberateme,beloved,I’mGod-intoxicated!

I’llwrapmyselfaboutyou;I’mmysticallymad.’

EachmorningIawakennowtothefragranceofflowersflungoverourgardenwallatdawnbyIce-candy-man.ThecourtyardoftheRecoveredWomen’sCamptooisstrewnwithpetals;andsometimeswiththeaddedglitterofcheapcandywrappedincellophane.AndafterHimatAlisweepsuptheredrosescrushedbythesun,andthecampwomenthepetalsscatterednearthetingatesintheircourtyardasiftheywerenomorethangoatdroppings,Ice-candy-man’svoicerisesinsweetandclearsongtoshowerAyahwithpoems.

‘Bewitchingfacesdon’tremainburied

Theyreappearintheshapesofflowers.’

Until,onemorning,whenIsnifftheairandmissthefragrance,andruninconsternationtothekitchen,IamtoldthatAyah,atlast,hasgonetoherfamilyinAmritsar.

…AndIce-candy-man,too,disappearsacrosstheWagahborderintoIndia.

Acknowledgments

IthankRanaKhanforsharingwithmehischildhoodexperiencesatthetimeofPartition.HelivesinHouston,andstillbearsthedeepcrescent-shapedscaronthebackofhishead,andinnumerableotherscars.

Iwouldalsoliketothankmygoodfriends:NergisSobaniforsopainstakinglytypingthefinal(andsemi-final)draftsofmynovels;SafderButt,whowithhisraconteur’sgiftinspiredmetowriteinthefirstplace;PhillipLopateforhisscrutinyofthemanuscriptandforhiscomments;RosellenBrownandMaxApplefortheirgoodcheerandsupport;AliAsani,andNomanHaqforassistingmewiththeselectionoftheUrdupoems;ReetikaVazirini,myhaplessflatmate,forherhelp;andfinallytheBuntingInstituteandtheNationalEndowmentfortheArtsforprovidingmewiththetime,spaceandmeanstocompletethisnovel.

GratefulacknowledgmentismadeforpermissiontoreprintexcerptsfromUrduLiteratureeditedbyD.J.Matthews,C.ShackleandShahrukhHusain,publishedbyUrduMarkaz,London,1985.

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