‘Honestly, Saeeda Begum, this is news to me. I have not seen him for two weeks,’ said Maan. He noticed that her pale neck was flushed.
‘That is hardly surprising. He returned here two weeks ago. If, as appeared from your protests, you have arrived recently –’
‘Recently’ exclaimed Maan. ‘I have barely had time to wash my face and hands –’
‘Do you mean he never breathed a word of this? That is very unlikely.’
‘Indeed not, Saeeda Bai. He is a very earnest soul; he didn’t even want to teach me ghazals. Yes, he talked once or twice about socialism and methods for improving the economic status of the village – but love! Why, he is a married man.’
Saeeda Bai smiled. ‘Has Dagh Sahib forgotten that men have not forgotten to count to four in our community?’ she asked.
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Maan. ‘Of course. But – well, you are not pleased –’
‘No,’ said Saeeda Bai, with a flash of anger. ‘I am not pleased.’
‘Is Tasneem –’
‘No, she is not, she is not, and I will not have her be in love with some village lout –’ said Saeeda Begum. ‘He wants to marry her for my possessions. Then he will spend them on digging a village ditch. Or planting trees. Trees!’
This did not at all accord with Maan’s sense of Rasheed, but he thought better than to contradict Saeeda Bai, who had worked herself into a state of indignation.
‘Well, how about a true-hearted admirer for Tasneem?’ he suggested by way of diversion.
‘It is not for admirers to choose her but to be chosen by me,’ said Saeeda Bai Firozabadi.
‘May not even a Nawabzada admire her, even if from afar?’
‘Whom precisely are you referring to?’ asked Saeeda Bai, her eyes flashing dangerously.
‘Let me say, a friend,’ said Maan, enjoying her unfeigned interest, and admiring the brilliance of her expression – like swordplay at sunset, he thought. How beautiful she looked – and what a wonderful night lay ahead.
But Saeeda Begum got up and went to the gallery. She was biting the inside of her cheek. She clapped her hands again. ‘Bibbo!’ she shouted. ‘Bibbo! Bibbo! That stupid girl must have gone to the kitchen. Ah’ – for Bibbo had come running up the stairs at the note of danger in her mistress’s voice – ‘Bibbo, you’ve decided to grace us with your presence at last? I have been shouting myself hoarse for the last half hour.’
Maan smiled to himself at the charming exaggeration.
‘Dagh Sahib is tired, Bibbo. Kindly show him out.’ Something caught in her voice.
Maan started. What on earth had got into Saeeda Begum?
He looked at her, but she had averted her face. She had sounded not merely angry but painfully upset.
It must be my fault, he thought. I have said or done something terribly wrong. But what on earth have I done or said? he asked himself. Why should the thought of a Nawabzada paying court to Tasneem worry Saeeda Begum so greatly? After all, Firoz is the very opposite of a village lout.
Saeeda Bai walked past him, picked up the birdcage, and went back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Maan was stunned. He looked at Bibbo. She was astonished too. It was her turn to look at him with sympathy.
‘Sometimes this happens,’ said Bibbo. But in fact it happened very rarely. ‘What did you do?’ she continued with immense curiosity. Her mistress was normally unshockable. Nothing even the Raja of Marh had done recently – and he had been in a foul mood because of the result of the Zamindari Abolition case – had had this effect.
‘Nothing,’ said Maan, staring at the closed door. After a minute he said softly, as if speaking to himself: ‘But she can’t really be serious.’ And, he thought to himself, I, for my part, am not going to be brushed off like this. He went to the bedroom door.
‘Oh, Dagh Sahib, please, please –’ cried Bibbo, horrified. The bedroom, when Saeeda Bai entered it, was sacrosanct.
‘Saeeda Begum,’ said Maan in a tender and puzzled voice, ‘what have I done? Please tell me. Why are you so angry with me? Was it Rasheed – or Firoz – or what?’ There was no answer from inside.
‘Please, Kapoor Sahib –’ said Bibbo, raising her voice and trying to sound firm.
‘Bibbo!’ came the parakeet’s metallic and commanding voice from the bedroom. Bibbo started giggling.
Maan was now trying to open the door, but the handle wouldn’t work. She must have locked it from the inside, he thought angrily. Aloud he said, ‘This is an unjust way to treat me, Saeeda Begum – you promise me heaven one minute and you throw me the next minute into hell. I hardly had time to bathe and shave after arriving in Brahmpur, and I came to see you. At least tell me why you are so upset.’