Maan said: ‘Is there anywhere…’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Rasheed’s father, ‘go behind the cowshed if you want to piss. Is that it?’
‘Yes,’ said Maan, and went, gripping his torch tightly and stepping into cowdung as he made his way to the other side of the shed. One of the bullocks started lowing at his approach.
When he came back Rasheed poured some water over his hands from a brass pot. In the warm evening the water was wonderfully cool.
So was the sherbet. This was followed quickly by dinner, eaten again by the light of kerosene lamps. Dinner consisted of meat dishes and fairly thick wheat rotis. All four men ate together under the stars and among the insects that whirred all around. They concentrated on eating; conversation was desultory.
‘What’s this? Pigeon?’ asked Maan.
‘Yes. We have a pigeon-house up there – or, rather, my grandfather does.’ Rasheed pointed into the dark. ‘Where is Baba, by the way?’ he asked his father.
‘He’s gone off on one of his tours of inspection of the village,’ was the reply. ‘Probably also to talk to Vilayat Sahib – to try to convert him back to Islam.’
Everyone laughed except Maan, who did not know the two people involved. He bit into a shami kabab, and began to feel somewhat forlorn.
‘He should be back in time for the night prayer,’ said Rasheed, who wanted Maan to meet his grandfather.
When someone mentioned Rasheed’s wife, Maan sat up. He hadn’t known or imagined that Rasheed had a wife. A little later someone mentioned Rasheed’s two small daughters and Maan was further astonished.
‘Now, we’ll lay out some bedding for you,’ said Rasheed’s father in his brisk but toothless way. ‘I sleep on the roof there. In this season, it’s good to get what breeze you can.’
‘What a good idea,’ said Maan. ‘I’ll do the same.’
There was an awkward silence, then Rasheed said: ‘Actually, we should try sleeping under the stars here – outside the house. Our bedding can be laid out here.’
Maan frowned, and was about to ask a question, when Rasheed’s father said: ‘Good, then, that’s settled. I’ll send the servant out with the stuff. It’s too hot for a mattress. Spread a rug on the charpoy and a sheet or two on top of that. All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Later, lying on his bed, looking up at the clear night sky, Maan’s thoughts turned towards home. Luckily he was quite sleepy, so thoughts of Saeeda Bai were not likely to keep him up the whole night. Frogs were croaking in a pond somewhere at the edge of the village. A cat yowled. A buffalo snorted in the cattle-shed. A few crickets cried, and the grey-white flash of an owl settled on the branch of a neem tree. Maan took this as a good sign.
‘An owl,’ he announced to Rasheed, who was lying on the charpoy next to him.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Rasheed. ‘And there’s another one.’
Another grey shape flew down onto the branch.
‘I’m very fond of owls,’ said Maan sleepily.
‘Inauspicious birds,’ said Rasheed.
‘Well, they know they have a friend in me,’ said Maan. ‘That is why they are watching over my sleep. They will make sure I dream about pleasant things. About beautiful women and so on. Rasheed, you must teach me some ghazals tomorrow. Incidentally, why are you sleeping out here? Shouldn’t you be with your wife?’
‘My wife is at her father’s village,’ said Rasheed.
‘Ah,’ said Maan.
For a while Rasheed said nothing. Then he said, ‘Do you know the story of Mahmud of Ghazni and his peaceful Prime Minister?’
‘No.’ What that great conqueror and despoiler of cities had to do with what had gone before Maan could not see. But in that twilight state that precedes sleep, it was not necessary to see.
Rasheed began his story: ‘Mahmud of Ghazni said to his vazir: “What are those two owls?” ’
‘Oh yes?’ said Maan. ‘Mahmud of Ghazni was lying on a charpoy staring at these owls?’
‘Probably not,’ said Rasheed. ‘Different owls, and probably not on a charpoy. So he, the vazir, said: “One owl has a young boy owl, and one has a young girl owl. They are well-matched in every way, and the marriage plans are going ahead. The two owls – fathers-in-law- to-be – are sitting on a branch discussing their children’s marriage, especially the all-important question of the dowry.” The vazir pauses here. So Mahmud of Ghazni says, “What are they saying?” The vazir replies: “The owl on the boy’s side is demanding a thousand deserted villages as a dowry.” – “Yes? Yes?” says Mahmud of Ghazni, “and what is the other owl saying?” The vazir replies: “The owl on the girl’s side is saying: After the latest campaign of Mahmud of Ghazni he can offer five thousand…” Good night. Sleep well.’