‘Hmm,’ said Mahesh Kapoor.
‘Think about it.’
‘I will. I will think about it. But where I stand from is only one of three questions in my mind.’
‘What are the other two?’
‘Well – which party?’
‘Congress,’ said the Nawab Sahib, naming without hesitation the party which had done so much to dispossess him.
‘Do you think so?’ said Mahesh Kapoor. ‘Do you think so?’
The Nawab Sahib nodded, looked at the debris on his plate, then rose. ‘And your third question?’
‘Whether I should continue in politics at all.’
The Nawab Sahib looked at his old friend in disbelief. ‘It’s something you ate this morning,’ he said. ‘Or else a piece of wax in my ear.’
14.18
WARIS, meanwhile, was having a fine time away from his standard duties in the Fort and the officious eye of the munshi. He galloped happily along; and although he took with him the gun that he had obtained a licence for, he did not use it, since the hunt was not his prerogative. Maan and Firoz enjoyed the ride as much as the hunting; and there was enough game for them to spot or follow even though they did not actively seek it out. The part of the estate through which they rode was a mixture of firm woodland, rocky soil, and what in this season was sporadic marsh. Early in the afternoon, Maan saw a herd of nilgai splashing through the edge of the marsh at a distance. He aimed, fired, missed, and cursed himself good-naturedly. Later, Firoz got a large spotted deer with magnificent antlers. Waris noted the spot, and when they passed a small hamlet not far away he told one of the local men to get it to the Fort on a cart by the evening.
Apart from deer and wild boar, which they spied only occasionally, there were a great number of monkeys, especially langurs, and a great variety of birds, including peacocks, scattered throughout the forest. They even saw a peacock dancing. Maan was transported with pleasure.
It was a warm day, but there was plenty of shade, and from time to time they rested. Waris noticed how delighted the two young men were in each other’s company, and he joined in their banter whenever he felt like it. He had liked Maan from the first, and Firoz’s friendship with him cemented his liking.
As for the two young masters, having been cooped up in Brahmpur for a while, they were happy to be out in the open. They were sitting in the shade of a large banyan tree and talking.
‘Have you ever eaten peacock?’ Waris asked Maan.
‘No,’ said Maan.
‘It’s excellent meat,’ said Waris.
‘Come on, Waris, the Nawab Sahib doesn’t like people shooting peacocks on the estate,’ said Firoz.
‘No, no, by no means,’ said Waris. ‘But if you shoot one of them by mistake, you may as well eat the bastard. No point in leaving him to the jackals.’
‘By mistake!’ said Firoz.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Waris, making an effort at invention or recall. ‘Once there was a sudden rustling in the bushes when I was sitting under a tree – just as we are sitting now, and I thought it was a wild boar – so I shot at it, and it was only a peacock. Poor thing. Delicious.’
Firoz frowned. Maan laughed.
‘Shall I tell you the next time I do that?’ asked Waris. ‘You’ll like it, Chhoté Saliib, let me tell you. My wife is an excellent cook.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Firoz, who had several times eaten jungle-fowl cooked by her.
‘Chhoté Sahib always believes in doing the right thing,’ said Waris. ‘That’s why he is a lawyer.’
‘I thought that was a disqualification,’ said Maan.
‘Soon, if they make him a judge, he will get the zamindari decisions reversed,’ asserted Waris.
There was a sudden movement in the bushes not thirty feet away. A large wild boar, its tusks lowered, came charging in their direction, aiming either towards them or past them. Without thinking, Maan lifted his rifle and – hardly taking conscious aim – fired at it when it was just a dozen feet away.
The boar collapsed in its tracks. The three of them got to their feet – at first in fear – and then, standing around it at a safe distance, heard its grunts and squeals and watched it thrash about for a minute or so, while its blood soaked the leaves and mud around it.
‘My God –’ said Firoz, staring at the beast’s huge tusks.
‘Not a fucking peacock,’ was Waris’s comment.
Maan did a little dance. He was looking a little dazed and very pleased with himself.
‘Well, what will we do with it?’ said Firoz.
‘Eat it, of course,’ said Maan.
‘Don’t be an idiot – we can’t eat it. We’ll give it to – well, someone or other. Waris can tell us which of the servants won’t object to eating it.’