He thought back to the last evening that he had spent in Saeeda Bai’s arms, and began to feel fuzzily amorous once more.
‘Because it’s her job not to,’ replied Pran. ‘If she fell in love with you it wouldn’t be at all good for her work – or her reputation! So she won’t. She’s too hard-headed. Anyone with one good eye can see that, and I’ve seen her for three Holis in succession.’
‘You just don’t know her, Pran,’ said his brother ardently.
This was the second time in a few hours that someone had told Pran that he just didn’t understand someone else, and he reacted impatiently.
‘Now listen, Maan, you’re making a complete fool of yourself. Women like that are brought up to pretend they’re in love with gullible men – to make their hearts light and their purses even lighter. You know that Saeeda Bai is notorious for this sort of thing.’
Maan just turned over onto his stomach and pressed his face into the pillow.
Pran found it very difhcult to be righteous with his idiot of a brother. Well, I’ve done my duty, he thought. If I say anything further it’ll have just the opposite reaction to what Ammaji wants.
He tousled his brother’s hair and said: ‘Maan – are you in difficulties with money?’
Maan’s voice, slightly muffled by the pillow, said: ‘Well, it isn’t easy, you know. I’m not a client or anything, but I can’t just go empty-handed. So, well, I’ve given her a few gifts. You know.’
Pran was silent. He did not know. Then he said: ‘You haven’t eaten into the money you came to Brahmpur to do business with, have you, Maan? You know how Baoji would react if he came to know of that.’
‘No,’ said Maan, frowning. He had turned around again, and was looking up at the fan. ‘Baoji, you know, said something sharp to me a few days ago – but I’m sure he doesn’t really mind at all about Saeeda Bai. After all, he’s had quite a lively youth himself – and, besides, he’s invited her several times to sing at Prem Nivas.’
Pran said nothing. He was quite certain that his father was very displeased.
Maan went on: ‘And just a few days ago I asked him for money – “for this and for that” – and he gave me quite a generous amount.’
Pran reflected that whenever his father was occupied with a piece of legislation or some other project, he hated being disturbed, and almost paid people off so as to be able to get on with his own work.
‘So you see,’ said Maan, ‘there isn’t a problem at all.’ Having made the problem disappear, he went on: ‘But where is my lovely bhabhi? I’d much rather be scolded by her.’
‘She’s do'wnstairs.’
‘Is she angry with me too?’
‘I’m not exactly angry with you, Maan,’ said Pran. ‘All right, get ready and come down. She’s looking forward to seeing you.’
‘What’s happening about your job?’ asked Maan.
Pran made a gesture with his right hand which was the equivalent of a shrug.
‘Oh, yes, and is Professor Mishra still furious with you?’
Pran frowned. ‘He’s not the sort of man who forgets little acts of kindness such as yours. Do you know, if you had been a student and did what you did at Holi, I might, as a member of the students’ welfare committee, have had to recommend your expulsion.’
‘Your students sound a very lively lot,’ said Maan approvingly.
After a while he added, with a happy smile on his face: ‘Do you know that she calls me Dagh Sahib?’
‘Oh, really?’ said Pran. ‘Very charming. I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes.’
6.8
ONE evening after a longish day in the High Court, Firoz was on his way to the cantonment for some polo and a ride when he noticed his father’s secretary, Murtaza Ali, bicycling down the road with a white envelope in his hand. Firoz halted the car and called out, and Murtaza Ali stopped.
‘Where are you off to?’ asked Firoz. .
‘Oh, nowhere, just within Pasand Bagh.’
‘Who’s that envelope for?’
‘Saeeda Bai Firozabadi,’ said Murtaza Ali rather reluctantly.
‘Well, that’s on my way. I’ll drop it off.’ Firoz looked at his watch. ‘It shouldn’t make me late.’
He reached out of the window to take the packet, but Murtaza Ali held back.
‘It isn’t any trouble at all, Chhoté Sahib,’ he said, smiling. ‘I must not palm off my duties on others. You are looking very well turned out in those new jodhpurs.’
‘It’s not a duty for me. Here –’ And Firoz reached out once again for the packet. He reflected that it would provide him with the ostensibly innocent means to see that lovely girl Tasneem once more.