A Suitable Boy(178)

The Rajkumar and his friends ate together, played cards together, and shared each other’s company a good deal. Each of them spent fifteen rupees a month on mess fees (they had their own cook) and another twenty rupees a month on what they called ‘girl fees‘. These went to support a very beautiful nineteen-year-old dancing girl who lived with her mother in a street not far from the university. Rupvati would entertain the friends quite often, and one of them would stay behind afterwards. This way each of them got a turn once every two weeks by rotation. On the other nights, Rupvati was free to entertain any of them or to take a night off, but the understanding was that she would have no other clients. The mother would greet the boys very affectionately; she was very pleased to see them, and often told them that she did not know what she and her daughter would have done if it hadn’t been for their kindness.

Within half an hour of meeting the Rajkumar of Marh and drinking a fair amount of whisky, Maan had spilt out all his troubles on his shoulder. The Rajkumar mentioned Rupvati, and suggested that they visit her. Maan cheered up slightly at this and, taking the bottle with them, they began to walk in the direction of her house. But the Rajkumar suddenly remembered that this was one of her nights off, and that they would not be entirely welcome there.

‘I know what we’ll do. We’ll visit Tarbuz ka Bazaar instead,’ said the Rajkumar, hailing a tonga and pulling Maan onto it. Maan was in no mood to resist this suggestion.

But when the Rajkumar, who had placed a friendly hand on his thigh, moved it significantly upwards, he shook it away with a laugh.

The Rajkumar did not take this rejection at all amiss, and in a couple of minutes, with the bottle passing between them, they were talking as easily as before.

‘This is a great risk for me,’ said the Rajkumar, ‘but because of our great friendship I am doing it.’

Maan began to laugh. ‘Don’t do it again,’ he said. ‘I feel ticklish.’

Now it was the Rajkumar’s turn to laugh. ‘I don’t mean that,’ he said. ‘I mean that taking you to Tarbuz ka Bazaar is a risk for me.’

‘Oh, how?’ said Maan.

‘Because “any student who is seen in an undesirable place shall be liable to immediate expulsion.” ’

The Rajkumar was quoting from the curious and detailed rules of conduct promulgated for the students of Brahmpur University. This particular rule sounded so vague and yet at the same time so delightfully draconian that the Rajkumar and his friends had learned it by heart and used to chant it in chorus to the lilt of the Gayatri Mantra whenever they went out to gamble or drink or whore.





6.19


THEY soon got to Old Brahmpur, and wound through the narrow streets towards Tarbuz ka Bazaar. Maan was beginning to have second thoughts.

‘Why not some other night –?’ he began.

‘Oh, they serve very good biryani there,’ said the Rajkumar.

‘Where?’

‘At Tahmina Bai’s. I’ve been there once or twice when it’s been a non-Rupvati day.’

Maan’s head sank on his chest and he went off to sleep. When they got to Tarbuz ka Bazaar, the Rajkumar woke him up.

‘From here we’ll have to walk.’

‘Not far?’

‘No – not far. Tahmina Bai’s place is just around the corner.’

They dismounted, paid the tonga-wallah, and walked hand in hand into a side alley. The Rajkumar then walked up a flight of narrow and steep stairs, pulling a tipsy Maan behind him.

But when they got to the top of the stairs they heard a confused noise, and when they had walked a few steps along the corridor they were faced with a curious scene.

The plump, pretty, dreamy-eyed Tahmina Bai was giggling in delight as an opium-eyed, vacant-faced, red-tongued, barrel-bodied, middle-aged man – an income tax clerk – was beating on the tabla and singing an obscene song in a thin voice. Two scruffy lower division clerks were lounging around, one of them with his head in her lap. They were trying to sing along.

The Rajkumar and Maan were about to beat a retreat, when the madam of the establishment saw them and bustled quickly towards them along the corridor. She knew who the Rajkumar was, and hastened to reassure him that the others would be cleared out in a couple of minutes.

The two loitered around a paan shop for a few minutes, then went back upstairs. Tahmina Bai, alone, and with a beatific smile on her face, was ready to entertain them.

First she sang a thumri, then – realizing that time was getting on – she fell into a sulk.

‘Oh, do sing,’ said the Rajkumar, prodding Maan to placate Tahmina Bai as well.

‘Ye-es –’ said Maan.