Then Arun, Meenakshi, Varun and Lata whizzed off to enjoy themselves.
They went to several parties, and landed up after eleven o’clock at Bishwanath Bhaduri’s, where Meenakshi saw the back of Billy’s head.
‘Billy!’ Meenakshi cooed in a carrying vibrato from halfway across the room.
Billy looked around and his face fell. But Meenakshi traversed the room and managed to detach him as blatantly and flirtatiously as possible from Shireen. When she had got him alone in a corner, she said: ‘Billy, I can’t make it on Thursday. The Shady Ladies just phoned to say they’re having a special meeting.’
Billy’s face expressed relief. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ he said.
‘So it will have to be Wednesday.’
‘I can’t!’ pleaded Billy. Then he became annoyed. ‘Why did you get me away from my friends?’ he said. ‘Shireen will begin to suspect me.’
‘She will not,’ said Meenakshi gaily. ‘But it’s good your back’s turned to her at the moment. If she saw you looking so angry, she certainly would. And indignation doesn’t suit you. In fact nothing suits you. Only your birthday suit. Don’t blush, Billy, or I shall be forced to kiss you passionately an hour before your New Year kiss is due. Wednesday then. Don’t evade your irresponsibilities.’
Billy was horribly unhappy, but he didn’t know what to do.
‘Did you watch the Test Match today?’ asked Meenakshi, changing the subject. Poor Billy, he looked so dejected.
‘What do you think?’ said Billy, cheering up at the memory. India had not done too badly, having managed to get England out for 342 in the first innings.
‘So you’ll be there tomorrow?’ Meenakshi said.
‘Oh, yes. I’m looking forward to seeing what Hazare will do with their bowling. The MCC have sent a second-rate team out to India, and I’ll be happy to see them taught a lesson. Well, it’ll be a pleasant way to spend New Year’s Day.’
‘Arun has a few tickets,’ said Meenakshi. ‘I think I’ll go and watch the match tomorrow.’
‘But you aren’t interested in cricket –’ protested Billy.
‘Ah – there’s another woman waving at you,’ said Meenakshi. ‘You haven’t been seeing other women, have you?’
‘Meenakshi!’ said Billy, so deeply shocked that Meenakshi was forced to believe him.
‘Well, I’m glad you’re still faithful. Faithfully unfaithful,’ said Meenakshi. ‘Or unfaithfully faithful. No, it’s me she’s waving at. Should I deliver you back to Shireen?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Billy mutedly.
16.18
VARUN and Lata were talking to Dr Ila Chattopadhyay in another part of the room. Dr Ila Chattopadhyay enjoyed the company of all sorts of people – and the fact that they were young did not count against them in her view. In fact this was one of her strengths as a teacher of English. Another was her devastating braininess. Dr Ila Chattopadhyay was as crazy and opinionated with her students as with her colleagues. Indeed, she respected her students more than her colleagues. They were, she thought, much more intellectually innocent, and much more intellectually honest.
Lata wondered what she was doing at this party: was she also chaperoning someone? If so, she was performing her duties laxly. At the moment she was entirely absorbed in conversation with Varun.
‘No, no,’ she was saying, ‘don’t join the IAS – it’s just another one of those Brown Sahib professions, and you’ll turn into a variant of your odious brother.’
‘But what should I do?’ Varun was saying. ‘I’m not good for anything.’
‘Write a book! Pull a rickshaw! Live! Don’t make excuses,’ said Dr Ila Chattopadhyay with hectic enthusiasm, shaking her grey hair vigorously. ‘Renounce the world like Dipankar. No, he’s joined a bank, hasn’t he? How did you do in your exams anyway?’ she added.
‘Terribly!’ said Varun.
‘I don’t think you’ve done so badly,’ said Lata. ‘I always think I’ve done worse than I actually have. It’s a Mehra trait.’
‘No, I really have done terribly,’ said Varun, pulling a morose face and gulping down his whisky. ‘I’m sure I’ve failed. I shall certainly not be called for the interview.’
Dr Ila Chattopadhyay said: ‘Don’t worry. It could be far worse. A good friend of mine has just had her daughter die of TB.’
Lata looked at Ila Chattopadhyay in amazement. Next she’ll say: ‘Now don’t worry. Just think – it could be far worse. A sister of mine has just had her two-year-old triplets decapitated by her alcoholic husband.’