A Suitable Boy(173)

‘No, no, be our guest, Minister Sahib,’ sneered the Raja of Marh. ‘Read away. And in exchange, tell me when exactly you plan to vest the ownership of our lands in your own pocket.’

‘My own pocket?’

A silverfish scurried across the table. The Raja crushed it with his thumb.

‘I meant, of course, the Revenue Department of the great state of Purva Pradesh.’

‘In due course.’

‘Now you are talking like your dear friend Agarwal in the Assembly.’

Mahesh Kapoor did not respond. The Nawab Sahib said: ‘Should we move into the drawing room?’

The Raja of Marh made no attempt to move. He said, almost equally to the Nawab Sahib and the Minister of Revenue: ‘I asked you that question merely from altruistic motives. I am supporting the other zamindars simply because I do not care for the attitude of the government – or political insects like you. I myself have nothing to lose. My lands are protected from your laws.’

‘Oh?’ said Mahesh Kapoor. ‘One law for men and another for monkeys?’

‘If you still call yourself a Hindu,’ said the Raja of Marh, ‘you may recall that it was the army of monkeys that defeated the army of demons.’

‘And what miracle do you expect this time?’ Mahesh Kapoor could not resist asking.

‘Article 362. of the Constitution,’ said the Raja of Marh, gleefully spitting out a number larger than two. ‘These are our private lands, Minister Sahib, our own private lands, and by the covenants of merger that we rulers made when we agreed to join your India, the law cannot loot them and the courts cannot touch them.’

It was well known that the Raja of Marh had gone drunk and babbling to the dour Home Minister of India, Sardar Patel, to sign the Instrument of Accession by which he made over his state to the Indian union  , and had even smudged his signature with his tears – thus creating a unique historical document.

‘We will see,’ said Mahesh Kapoor. ‘We will see. No doubt G.N. Bannerji will defend Your Highness in the future as ably as he has defended your lowness in the past.’

Whatever story lay behind this taunt, it had a signal effect.

The Raja of Marh made a sudden, growling, vicious lunge towards Mahesh Kapoor. Luckily he stumbled over a chair, and fell towards his left onto the table. Winded, he raised his face from among the law-books and scattered papers. But a page of a law-book had got torn.

For a second, staring at the torn page, the Raja of Marh looked dazed, as if he was uncertain where he was. Firoz, taking advantage of his disorientation, quickly went up to him, and with an assured arm led him towards the drawing room. It was all over in a few seconds. The Rajkumar followed his father.

The Nawab Sahib looked towards Mahesh Kapoor, and raised one hand slightly, as if to say, ‘Let things be.’ Mahesh Kapoor said, ‘I am sorry, very sorry’; but both he and his friend knew that he was referring less to the immediate incident than to his delay in coming to Baitar House.

After a while, he said to his son: ‘Come, Maan, let’s go.’ On the way out, they noticed the Raja’s long black Lancia with its solid gold ingot-like licence-plates stamped ‘MARH 1’ lurking in the drive.

In the car back to Prem Nivas, each was lost in his own thoughts. Mahesh Kapoor was thinking that, despite his explosive timing, he was glad that he had not waited still longer to reassure his friend. He could sense how affected the Nawab Sahib had been when he had taken his hand.

Mahesh Kapoor expected that the Nawab Sahib would call him up the next day to apologize for what had happened, but not offer any substantial explanations. The whole business was very uncomfortable: there was a strange, unresolved air to events. And it was disturbing that a coalition – however volatile – of former enemies was coming into being out of self-interest or self-preservation against his long-nurtured legislation. He would very much have liked to know what legal weaknesses, if any, the lawyers had found in his bill.

Maan was thinking how glad he was that he had met his friend again. He had told Firoz that he would probably be stuck with his father the whole evening, and Firoz had promised to send a message to Saeeda Bai – and if necessary to take it there personally – to inform her that Dagh Sahib had been detained.





6.16


‘NO; be careful; think.’

The voice was slightly mocking, but not without concern. It appeared to care that the task should be done well – that the neatly lined page should not become a record of shame and shapelessness. In a way, it appeared to care about what happened to Maan as well. Maan frowned, then wrote the character ‘meem’ again. It looked to him like a curved spermatozoon.