Pran and Savita walked down to the river, Pran leading the way with a torch, and helping Savita with a hand where the path was steep. He warned her to watch out for the roots of the banyan tree.
The boatman they hired from near the dhobi-ghat happened to be the same one who had taken Lata and Kabir to see the Barsaat Mahal some months previously at dawn. As usual he demanded an outrageous price. Pran brought it down slightly, but was in no mood for further haggling. He was glad Uma was too small to come with them; he was happy to be alone with Savita if only for an hour or two.
The river was still high, and a pleasant breeze was blowing.
‘Ma was right – it is cold – you’d better hold onto me for warmth,’ Pran said.
‘Aren’t you going to recite a ghazal by Mast for me?’ asked Savita as she looked out, past the ghats and the Fort towards the vague silhouette of the Barsaat Mahal.
‘Sorry, you’ve married the wrong brother,’ said Pran.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Savita. She leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘What is that thing there with the walls and chimney – beyond the Barsaat Mahal?’
‘Hmm – I don’t know – perhaps the tannery or the shoe factory,’ said Pran. ‘But everything looks different from this side, especially at night.’
They were silent for a while.
‘What’s the latest on that front?’ said Pran.
‘You mean Haresh?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t know. Lata’s being secretive. But he does write and she does reply. You’re the one who’s met him. You said you liked him.’
‘Well, it’s impossible to judge someone on the basis of a single meeting,’ said Pran.
‘Oh, so you think so!’ said Savita archly, and they both laughed.
A thought struck Pran.
‘I suppose I too am going to be judged soon enough on the basis of a single meeting,’ he said.
‘Soon enough!’ said Savita.
‘Well, things really are going ahead at last –’
‘Or so Professor Mishra assures you.’
‘No, no – in a month or two at the latest they’re going to have their interviews – someone who works in the Registrar’s Office mentioned it to one of my father’s ex-PAs. So let’s see, it’s the middle of October now –’ Pran looked across towards the burning ghat. He lost the thread of his thoughts.
‘How quiet the city looks,’ he said. ‘And when you think that Maan and Firoz could have been murdered –’
‘Don’t.’
‘Sorry, darling. Anyway, what were you saying?’
‘I’ve forgotten.’
‘Oh, well.’
‘I think,’ said Savita, ‘that you’re in danger of becoming complacent.’
‘Who – me?’ said Pran, surprised rather than affronted. ‘Why should I be complacent? A humble university lecturer with a weak heart, who will have to puff his way up the cliff at the end of this boat-ride.’
‘Well, perhaps not,’ said Savita. ‘Anyway, what does it feel like to have a wife and child?’
‘What does it feel like? It feels wonderful.’
Savita smiled into the darkness. She had fished for a compliment, and landed one.
‘This is where you’ll get the best view,’ said the boatman, driving his long pole deep into the bed of the river. ‘I can’t go further back into the current. The river’s too high.’
‘And I suppose it must be quite pleasant to have a husband and child,’ added Pran.
‘Yes,’ said Savita thoughtfully. ‘It is.’ After a while she said: ‘Sad about Meenakshi.’
‘Yes. But you’ve never been very fond of her, have you?’
Savita did not reply.
‘Has her miscarriage made you like her more?’ said Pran.
‘What a question! It has, in a way. Well, let me think about that. I’ll know immediately when I see her again.’
‘You know,’ said Pran, ‘I don’t look forward to staying with your brother and sister-in-law over the New Year.’ He closed his eyes; there was a mild and pleasant breeze on the river.
‘I’m not sure there’ll even be room for all of us at Sunny Park,’ said Savita. ‘Ma and Lata can stay with them as usual. And you and I can camp in the garden. Rock-a-bye Baby can hang from the tree-top.’
Pran laughed. ‘Well, at least the baby doesn’t rake after your brother, as I feared she might.’
‘Which one?’
‘Either. But I meant Arun. Well, they’ll have to put us up somewhere – I suppose at the Chatterjis’. I liked that boy, what’s his name –’