A Suitable Boy(522)

Mahesh Kapoor nodded, and the Nawab Sahib continued. ‘I know that this house was one of the strongholds of the Muslim League. I have never held with my father’s or my brother’s views on the subject, but people do not discriminate in these matters. To men like Agarwal the very name of Baitar is like a red rag – or perhaps a green one – to a bull. Next week he will try to force his Hindi bill through the Legislative Assembly, and Urdu, my lan- guage, the language of Mast, the language of most of the Muslims of this province, will be made more useless than ever. Who can protect us and our culture? Only people like you, who know us as we are, who have friends among us, who do not prejudge us because you can judge us from experience.’

Mahesh Kapoor did not say anything, but he was moved by the trust reposed in him by the Nawab Sahib.

The Nawab Sahib frowned, divided his black sharifa pips into two separate piles with his spoon, and went on. ‘Perhaps it is worse in this part of the country than elsewhere. This was the heartland of the struggle for Pakistan, this is where much of the bitterness was created, but those of us who have not been able to or have chosen not to leave our homeland are now a smaller minority in a predominantly Hindu territory. No matter what troubles rage around us, I will probably manage to keep my head above water; so will Firoz and Imtiaz and Zainab – those who have means always manage somehow. But most of the ordinary people I talk to are downcast and fearful; they feel beleaguered. They mistrust the majority, and they feel mistrusted by them. I wish you would fight from here, Kapoor Sahib. Quite apart from my support, I hear that your son has made himself popular in the Salimpur area.’ The Nawab Sahib allowed himself a smile. ‘What do you think?’

‘Why don’t you stand for election yourself?’ asked Mahesh Kapoor.‘Quite frankly, I would rather stand, if I have to, from my old urban constituency of Misri Mandi, re-drawn though it has been – or, if it has to be a rural one, from Rudhia West, where my farm is located. Salimpur-cum-Baitar is too unfamiliar. I have no personal standing here – and no personal scores to settle.’ Mahesh Kapoor thought for a moment of Jha, then continued: ‘It’s you who should stand. You would win hands down.’

The Nawab Sahib nodded. ‘I have thought about it,’ he said slowly. ‘But I am not a politician. I have my work – if nothing else, my literary work. I would not enjoy sitting in the Legislative Assembly. I have been there and I have heard the proceedings and, well, I am not suited for that kind of life. And I’m not sure I would win hands down. For a start, the Hindu vote would be a problem for me. And, most importantly, I just couldn’t go around Baitar and the villages asking people for votes – at least I could not do that for myself. I would not be able to bring myself to do that.’

He looked up again, rather wearily, at the sword-bearing portrait on the wall before continuing: ‘But I am keen that a decent, a suitable man wins from here. Apart from the Hindu Mahasabha and that lot, there is someone here whom I have been good to and who hates me as a result. He plans to try to get the local Congress ticket, and if he becomes the local MLA, he can do me all kinds of harm. I have already decided to nominate a candidate of my own who will fight as an Independent in case this man does get the Congress nomination. But if you stand – whether from this KMPP or from the Congress, or as an Independent – I will make sure that you get my support. And that of my candidate.’

‘He must be a very compliant candidate,’ said Mahesh Kapoor, smiling. ‘Or a self-abnegating one. A rare thing in politics.’

‘You met him briefly when we got down from the jeep,’ said the Nawab Sahib. ‘It’s that fellow Waris.’

‘Waris!’ Mahesh Kapoor laughed out loud. ‘That servant of yours, that groom or whatever, the unshaven chap who went off hunting with Firoz and my son?’

‘Yes,’ said the Nawab Sahib.

‘What kind of MLA do you think he would make?’

‘Better than the one he’d displace.’

‘You mean, better a fool than a knave.’

‘Better a yokel, certainly.’

‘You’re not serious about Waris.’

‘Don’t underestimate him,’ said the Nawab Sahib. ‘He may be a bit crude, but he’s capable and he’s tough. He sees things in black and white, which is a great help when you’re electioneering. He would enjoy campaigning, whether for himself or for you. He’s popular around these parts. Women think he’s dashing. He’s absolutely loyal to me and the family, especially to Firoz. He would do anything for us. I really mean that – he keeps threatening to shoot people who have done us harm.’ Mahesh Kapoor looked a little alarmed. ‘Incidentally, he likes Maan; he took him around the estate when he was here. And the only reason he’s unshaven is because he doesn’t shave from the sighting of the new moon till Bakr-Id, ten days later. Not that he’s all that religious,’ added the Nawab Sahib, with a mixture of disapproval and indulgence. ‘But if he doesn’t have to shave for one reason or another, he feels that he may as well take advantage of the dispensation.’