A Suitable Boy(396)

‘I wish you wouldn’t call him that,’ said Mrs Rupa Mehra in exasperation. ‘He has a degree from England. And I wish you would take care of your health. How can you take care of Savita if you don’t?’

‘I like him well enough,’ said Pran. ‘But I can’t help thinking of him as a cobbler. When he came to Sunil Patwardhan’s party he brought along a pair of brogues he’d made just that morning. Or that he wanted made. Or something like that –’ he ended.

‘What are you talking about, Pran?’ cried Mrs Rupa Mehra. ‘l wish you wouldn’t speak in riddles. How can you bring along something that you want made? Who is this Sunil Patwardhan, and what brogues are these? And’ – she added with a particular air of grievance – ‘why didn’t I know about all this?’

That Mrs Rupa Mehra, whose special business it was to know everyone else’s, should not have known that Haresh had met Pran, in all likelihood before she had, irked her greatly.

‘Now don’t be annoyed with me, Ma, it’s not my fault that I didn’t tell you. I think things were a bit fraught here at home at the time – or perhaps it just slipped my mind. He was here on business a few months ago, and stayed with a colleague and I happened to meet him. A short man, well-dressed, straightforward, and quite definite in his opinions. Haresh Khanna, yes. I particularly remembered his name because I thought he might be a suitable prospect for Lata.’

‘You remember thinking –’ began Mrs Rupa Mehra. ‘And you did nothing about it?’ Here was unbelievable dereliction of duty. Her sons were thoroughly irresponsible in this regard, but she had not believed it of her son-in-law.

‘Well –’ Pran paused for a while, considering his words, then said: ‘Now I don’t know how much or how little you know about him, Ma, and it’s been a little while since the party, and I can’t say that it all comes back to me exactly as I heard it, but it is my understanding from Sunil Patwardhan that there was some girl in his life, some Sikh girl, who –’

‘Yes, yes, we know,’ Mrs Rupa Mehra cut him off. ‘We know perfectly well. But that will not stand in our way.’ Mrs Rupa Mehra made it clear by her tone that an armoured corps of Sikh damsels could not come between her and her target.

Pran continued: ‘Sunil had some perfectly idiotic couplet about him and this girl. I can’t recall it right now. At any rate he gave me to understand that our cobbler was spoken for.’

Mrs Rupa Mehra let the appellation pass. ‘Who is this Sunil?’ she demanded.

‘Don’t you know him, Ma?’ said Pran. ‘Well, I suppose we haven’t had him over when you’ve been here. Savita and I like him a lot. He’s very lively, very good at imitations. He’d enjoy meeting you, and I think you’d enjoy meeting him. After a few minutes you’ll imagine you’re speaking to yourself.’

‘But what does he do?’ asked Mrs Rupa Mehra. ‘What is his work?’

‘Oh, sorry, Ma, I see what you mean.‘He’s a lecturer in the Mathematics Department. He works in some of the same areas as Dr Durrani.’

Lata turned her head at the name. A look of tenderness and unhappiness passed over her face. She knew how difficult it would be to avoid Kabir on the campus, and she was uncertain now about whether she wanted to – or would be able to force herself to – avoid him. But after her long silence, what would his feelings towards her be? She feared that she had hurt him, as he had her, and neither thought gave her anything but pain.

‘Now you must tell me all the other news about Brahmpur,’ said Mrs Rupa Mehra quickly. ‘Tell me about this terrible thing we’ve all been hearing about – at the Pul Mela. This stampede. No one we know was injured, I hope.’

‘Well, Ma,’ said Pran thoughtfully, unwilling to mention anything about Bhaskar tonight, ‘let’s talk about the news tomorrow morning. There’s lots to tell – the Pul Mela disaster, the zamindari verdict, its effect on my father – oh yes, and on your father’s car, the Buick’ – here he began coughing – ‘and, of course, my asthma’s been cured by Ramjap Baba, except that the news doesn’t seem to have reached my lungs yet. You’re both tired, and I admit I feel a bit exhausted myself. Here we are. Ah, darling’ – for Savita had come up to the gate – ‘you really are foolish.’ He kissed her forehead.

Savita and Lata kissed. Mrs Rupa Mehra hugged her elder daughter tearfully for a minute, then said: ‘My father’s car…?’