A Suitable Boy(442)

‘What?’ said Pran.

‘Shall I read it again?’ asked Savita, smiling.

‘No, no, that’s fine. I’m feeling a bit light-headed. Your statutes are going to be as bad as that – or worse, you know. Read something else. Something from the Brahmpur Chronicle. No politics – some human interest story – like a child eaten by a hyena. Oh, sorry! Sorry, darling. Like someone winning a lottery – or the ‘Brahmpur Diary’ – that’s always soothing. How’s the baby?’

‘He’s sleeping, I think,’ said Savita, with a look of concentration.

‘He?’

‘According to my law-books, “he” includes “she”.’

‘Books, is it now?’ said Pran. ‘Oh, well.’





13.3


MRS RUPA MEHRA, torn between solicitude for Pran, concern for Savita, who was due to deliver any day now, and desperate anxiety on behalf of Lata, would have liked nothing better than to have an emotional breakdown. But the press of events would not allow it at present, and she therefore abstained.

When Savita was in the hospital, Mrs Rupa Mehra wanted to be with her. When Lata was at the university – especially when she was at one of her rehearsals – Mrs Rupa Mehra’s heart started pounding at the mischief she could be up to. Yet Lata was so busy that her mother hardly got a moment alone with her, let alone the chance for a heart-to-heart talk. At night it was impossible, for when Savita came home to sleep, emotional excitement in the house was the last thing her mother wanted to inflict upon her.

Mrs Rupa Mehra did not know what to do, and neither the Gita nor invocations to her late husband helped her in this exigency. To withdraw Lata from the play at this stage might drive her to God knows what rash action – even outright defiance. She could not avail herself of either Savita’s advice or Pran’s, since the one was close to birth, and the other – so Mrs Rupa Mehra had convinced herself – to death. She still recited her two chapters from the Gita when she woke up, but the world was too much with her, and the verses were occasionally interrupted by silent starings into space.

Pran, however, had begun to enjoy his stay in hospital. The monsoon weather was too muggy for his liking, but at least the moisture in the air was not too bad for his bronchial tubes. He had managed to rid his room of mosquitoes. He had exchanged the Brahmpur University Calendar and Regulations for Agatha Christie. Savita no longer complained that he spent no time with her. He felt like a calm captive, floating along on the currents of the universe. Occasionally the universe would fling someone up near him. If he was asleep, the visitor might wait for a while and then go away. If he was awake, they talked.

This afternoon a whispered and urgent conversation was taking place around him. Lata and Malati had come to visit him after a rehearsal. Finding him asleep, they decided to sit on the sofa and wait. just a few minutes later, Mrs Rupa Mehra arrived with Savita.

Mrs Rupa Mehra saw the two of them and her eyes narrowed with exasperation.

‘So!’ she said.

Lata and Malati could not mistake the tone of her voice, but could not understand the cause of it.

‘So!’ said Mrs Rupa Mehra in a strong whisper, glancing at the sleeping Pran. ‘You have come from the rehearsal, I imagine.’

If she thought that this oblique reference to the conspiracy would make the culprits collapse, she was mistaken.

‘Yes, Ma,’ said Lata.

‘It was an excellent rehearsal, Ma – you should see how Lata has opened out,’ said Malati. ‘You’ll really enjoy the play when you come for Annual Day.’

Mrs Rupa Mehra flushed red at the thought of Lata opening out. ‘I will certainly see the play, but Lata will not be in it,’ said Mrs Rupa Mehra.

‘Ma!’ said Lata and Malati simultaneously.

‘Girls should not be in plays –’

‘Ma, we thrashed all this out earlier,’ began Lata, with a glance at Savita. ‘Let’s not wake Pran up.’

‘Yes, Ma, that’s true,’ said Savita. ‘You can’t withdraw Lata now. You agreed to let her act. It’ll be impossible for them to find someone else. She’s learned her lines –’

Mrs Rupa Mehra sat down on a chair. ‘So you know as well?’ she said reproachfully to Savita. ‘Children cause one nothing but pain,’ she added.

Luckily, Savita did not relate this remark to her present condition. ‘Know? Know what?’ she said.

‘That – that that boy, K’ – Mrs Rupa Mehra could not bring herself to take his name – ‘is acting in the play with Lata. I am ashamed of you, Malati,’ she continued, her nose beginning to redden, ‘I am ashamed of you. I trusted you. And you have been so devious.’ Her voice rose, and Savita put a finger to her lips.