A Suitable Boy(487)

Mrs Khandelwal flashed her eyes at him, and he quailed.

‘I know what you got and when,’ said Mrs Khandelwal.

‘Yes, yes –’ said her husband in rather a worried tone.

‘Nice furniture!’ said Haresh, in the belief that this was the kind of small talk that needed to be made.

Meenakshi looked at him and forbore from comment.

But Mrs Khandelwal gazed at him with her sweetest, most charming expression. He had provided her with an opportunity to say what she had been waiting to say. ‘Do you think so?’ she asked Haresh, ‘It has been done by Kamdar’s – Kamdar’s of Bombay. Half our rooms are decorated by them.’

Meenakshi looked at the heavy corner-settee – in dark, solid wood with dark blue upholstery. ‘If you like this sort of thing, you can always get it in Calcutta,’ she said. ‘There’s the Chowringhee Sales Bureau, for instance, for old-fashioned furniture. And if you want something more modern in style, there’s always Mozoomdar. It’s a little less’ – she paused for a word – ‘a little less ponderous. But it depends on your taste. These pakoras are delicious,’ she added by way of compensation, helping herself to another one.

Her bright laugh tinkled across the china, though there was nothing very obviously humorous in her previous remarks.

‘Oh, but I think,’ said Mrs Khandelwal, oozing charm, ‘I do think that the quality of workmanship and the quality of wood at Kamdar’s is unbeatable.’

And the quality of distance, thought Meenakshi. If you lived in Bombay, you’d be importing your furniture from Calcutta. Aloud she said: ‘Well, Kamdar’s is Kamdar’s, of course.’

‘Do have some more tea, Mrs Mehra,’ said Mrs Khandelwal, pouring it out herself.

She was exquisitely charming, and believed in winning people over – including women. Though she suffered from some insecurity because of her past background, she was never aggressive with them. It was only where sweetness didn’t work that she gave vent to fury.

Mr Khandelwal appeared to be getting impatient. After a little while he excused himself to get a breath of fresh air. He came back a minute or two later, smelling of cardamoms and looking happier.

Mrs Khandelwal viewed him with suspicion when he returned, but he looked completely innocent.

Suddenly, without warning, three large alsatians bounded into the room, barking frenetically. Haresh was bewildered and almost spilled his tea. Arun jumped up. Khandelwal was perplexed; he wondered how they could have got in. Only the two women remained cool. Meenakshi was used to the vicious Cuddles and was fond of dogs. And Mrs Khandelwal turned on them in a low, commanding hiss: ‘Sit down ! Down, Cassius, down – down – Crystal – down, Jalebi!’

The three dogs sat down in a line, trembling and silent. Each of them knew that if they disobeyed, Mrs Khandelwal would have thought nothing of whipping them unmercifully there and then.

‘See –’ said Mrs Khandelwal, ‘see how sweet he is, my Cassius, look at him, my little pet – how unhappy he looks. He didn’t mean to disturb anyone.’

‘Well,’ said Arun, ‘I’m afraid my wife is in rather a – a – well, a delicate state, and these sudden shocks –’

Mrs Khandelwal, horrified, turned on her husband. ‘Mr Khandelwal,’ she said in a tone of absolute authority, ‘do you know what you have done? Do you have any idea?’

‘No,’ said Mr Khandelwal in fear and trembling.

‘You have left the door open. That is how these three beasts have entered. Take them out at once and close the door.’

Having dispatched the dogs and her husband, she turned – dripping concern – towards Meenakshi.

‘My poor Mrs Mehra, I cannot apologize enough. Have another pakora. Have two. You must build up your strength.’

‘Excellent tea, Mrs Khandelwal,’ said Haresh bravely.

‘Do have another cup. We get our own blend directly from Darjeeling,’ said Mrs Khandelwal.





13.31


THERE was a pause, and now Haresh decided to beard the lion.

‘You must be Lata’s brother,’ he said to Arun. ‘How is Lata?’

‘Very well,’ said Arun.

‘And your mother?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ said Arun, with some hauteur.

‘And the baby?’

‘The baby?’

‘Your niece.’

‘Flourishing, no doubt.’

There was another pause.

‘Do you have any children?’ asked Haresh of Meenakshi.

‘Yes,’ said Meenakshi. ‘A girl.’ This cobbler, she decided, would make a very poor rival to Amit.

Arun turned to Haresh and said: ‘What is it you do exactly, Mr Khanna? I understand you’ve been taken on by Praha’s in some sort of position. A managerial position, I presume.’