‘Yes,’ said Amit resignedly. ‘I’m the clever one.’
This delighted the dazzling lady.
‘I knew you when you were that high,’ she exclaimed. ‘You were very clever, even then, so I’m not surprised you’ve written all those books.’
‘Oh?’ said Amit.
Not to be outdone, the other lady asserted that she had known him since he was a bulge.
‘But a brainy bulge, no doubt,’ said Amit.
‘Now, now,’ said the lady.
There was a commotion at the gate. A group of five hermaphrodites, hearing that there was a wedding in progress, had turned up, and were singing and dancing and demanding money. So shameless were their gestures that the nearby guests were turning away in shock, but Sunil Patwardhan rushed over with his friends to enjoy the fun. Dr Kishen Chand Seth, brandishing his stick, was trying to drive them away; but they were making lewd remarks about both it and him. They would have to be paid to go away. He offered them twenty rupees, and their leader told him that he wouldn’t even service him for that amount. Dr Kishen Chand Seth hopped around in fury, but he could do nothing. They demanded fifty, and they got it.
‘It’s blackmail,’ said Dr Kishen Chand Seth furiously. ‘Sheer blackmail.’ He had had enough of hosting this wedding. He went inside to lie down and cool his head, and soon fell asleep.
Mrs Rupa Mehra, though she had broken her fast, had not done so with her usual gusto because she had to at the same time accept congratulations, introduce people to each other, watch over Haresh and Lata, keep a wary eye on Varun, and supervise the catering. But she was tearfully happy, and as she looked around her she felt even happier to see Pran talking to Professor Mishra, the Nawab Sahib talking to Mahesh Kapoor, and Maan and Firoz laughing together.
Sunil Patwardhan came up to her.
‘Many, many congratulations, Mrs Mehra.’
‘Thank you so much, Sunil. I’m so glad you’re here. You haven’t seen my father anywhere, have you?’
‘I’m afraid not — not after that altercation at the gate. . Mrs Mehra, I have a small problem. . Haresh left his cufflinks at my house, and he told me to put them in the room where he’ll be staying tonight.’ Sunil fished a pair of cufflinks out of his trouser pockets. ‘If you would tell me where I should take them—’
But Mrs Rupa Mehra would not be gulled so easily. She had been warned about Sunil Patwardhan’s pranks and practical jokes, and she was not going to allow him to disturb her daughter’s night of Ideal Marriage.
‘Give them to me,’ she said firmly, taking them from him. ‘I’ll make sure he gets them.’ And as a result, Haresh was the richer and Sunil the poorer by one pair of black onyx cufflinks.
19.15
Kabir had not been able to bring himself to come to the wedding. But though it was Thursday night, he had not gone to visit his mother either. Instead he took a walk by the Ganga: upriver past the banyan tree, along the dhobi-ghat, past the Pul Mela sands underneath the Fort, along the waterfront of the old town, following the black water for miles until he came to the Barsaat Mahal.
In the shadow of a wall, he sat down on the sand for an hour, his head in his hands.
Then he got up to walk again, up the tall stairs, across the parapet and to the other side.
After a short while he came to a factory, the walls of which came down to the Ganga and prevented him from going further. But he was too tired anyway. He pressed his head against the wall.
The ceremonies will be over by now, he thought.
He hailed a boatman, and took a boat downriver back to the university and his father’s house.
19.16
The morning after the wedding, Haresh suddenly decided over breakfast that since he happened to be in Brahmpur, he should look in on the local Praha factory.
‘But you can’t just leave me like this,’ said Lata, putting down her teacup in astonishment. They were sitting at a small table in the bridal bedroom in her grandfather’s house.
‘No,’ said Haresh. ‘I can’t. Why don’t you come too? You might enjoy it.’
‘I think I’ll go over to Savita’s,’ said Lata, and picked up her cup again.
‘What’s that shoebox?’ asked Haresh, and opened it.
Inside was a small, carved wooden cat with a knowing smile on its face. Lata picked it up and examined it with pleasure.
‘It’s from a cobbler I have to meet later today,’ said Haresh.
‘I like it,’ said Lata.
Haresh kissed her and went off.
Lata walked over to the window after a while and looked out at the bougainvillaea, a little puzzled. This was a strange way to begin her married life. But then she thought about it and decided that it was just as well that Haresh had not spent the day with her wandering around Brahmpur — going to the university, the ghats, the Barsaat Mahal. Since they were going to begin a new life, it was best to begin it elsewhere.
Haresh’s family left for Delhi that day, and Arun and Varun and the rest left for Calcutta. And the next day Lata and Haresh were themselves seated in a train bound for Calcutta. Haresh could not take a honeymoon immediately because of the pressure of work, but he promised to take one soon. He was even more considerate to her now than he had been on the journey from Kanpur to Lucknow. Lata smiled and told him to stop fussing over her, but she liked it.
Her mother came to see them off at the railway station, together with Savita and Pran. It was hot and noisy. Mrs Rupa Mehra dabbed first at her forehead and then at her eyes with her cologne-scented handkerchief. Standing on the platform between her two daughters and their husbands, she did not know how she could bear to be without either of them. She was suddenly tempted to go along with Lata and Haresh, but fortunately desisted.
Instead, she made sure that they had enough food for the journey; she had brought extra provisions, just in case they hadn’t thought of it themselves, including a large cardboard box marked Shiv Market: Superb Sweetmeats and a thermos flask filled with cold coffee.
She hugged Haresh, and clung to Lata as if she would never be seeing her again. In fact she planned to return to Calcutta on the 20th of June — the birthday of a dear friend — and would visit Prahapore the very day of her arrival. She was delighted by the fact that she had yet another home to travel to.
Lata waved from the window as the train pulled out of Brahmpur Junction. Haresh appeared relaxed and happy, and that, she found, made her happy too. Tears came to her eyes at the thought of leaving her mother. She looked at Haresh for a second, and then turned to the view. In a few minutes they would pass into the countryside.
An hour or so later, during a halt at one of the smaller railway stations, she saw a small crowd of monkeys. They became aware of her looking out at them and, anticipating a sympathetic soul, approached her window. She glanced at Haresh: he was taking a nap. It amazed her how he was able to go to sleep for ten or twenty minutes at a time whenever or wherever he wanted to.
She threw them a few biscuits: they gathered around, chattering and insistent. She looked for a moment or two at her hennaed hands, took out a musammi, peeled the thick green skin with care, and began to distribute the segments. The monkeys gobbled them down instantly. The whistle had blown when Lata noticed a rather old monkey, sitting alone almost at the end of the platform.
He was contemplating her carefully and undemandingly.
As the train began to move, Lata quickly reached down into the bag of fruit for another musammi, and threw it in his direction. He moved towards it, but the others, seeing it roll along, began running towards it too; and before she could see what had become of it, the train had steamed out of the station.