A Suitable Boy(62)

Not a great deal of this was known to the maidservant Bibbo, who was, however, keyed into the gossip that the Raja had some years previously proposed to her mistress. Saeeda Bai was talking to Tasneem’s bird – rather prematurely, considering how tiny it was, but Saeeda Bai felt that this was how birds learned best – when Bibbo appeared.

‘Are any special arrangements to be made for the Raja Sahib?’ she asked.

‘Why? No, of course not,’ said Saeeda Bai.

‘Perhaps I should get a garland of marigolds –’

‘Are you crazy, Bibbo?’

‘– for him to eat.’

Saeeda Bai smiled.

Bibbo went on: ‘Will we have to move to Marh, Rani Sahiba?’

‘Oh do be quiet,’ said Saeeda Bai. ‘But to rule a state –’

‘No one really rules their states now; Delhi does,’ said Saeeda Bai. ‘And listen, Bibbo, it would not be the crown I would have to marry but the buffalo underneath. Now go – you are ruining the education of this parakeet.’

The maidservant turned to leave.

‘Oh, yes, and get me a little sugar, and see if the daal that you soaked earlier is soft yet. It probably isn’t.’

Saeeda Bai continued to talk to the parakeet, who was sitting on a little nest of clean rags in the middle of the brass cage that had once held Mohsina Bai’s myna.

‘Now, Miya Mitthu,’ said Saeeda Bai rather sadly to the parakeet, ‘You had better learn good and auspicious things at an early age, or you’ll be ruined for life, like that foul-mouthed myna. As they say, if you don’t learn your alif-be-pe-te clearly, you’ll never amount to a calligrapher. What do you have to say for yourself? Do you want to learn?’

The small, unfeathered ball of flesh was in no position to answer, and didn’t.

‘Now look at me,’ said Saeeda Bai. ‘I still feel young, though I admit I am naturally not as young as you. I am waiting to spend the evening with this disgustingly ugly man who is fifty-five years old, who picks his nose and belches, and who is going to be drunk even before he gets here. Then he’ll want me to sing romantic songs to him. Everyone feels that I am the epitome of romance, Miya Mitthu, but what about my feelings? How can I feel anything for these ancient animals, whose skin hangs from their jaws – like that of the old cattle straying around Chowk?’

The parakeet opened his mouth.

‘Miya Mitthu,’ said Saeeda Bai.

The parakeet rocked a little from side to side. His big head looked unsteady.

‘Miya Mitthu,’ repeated Saeeda Bai, trying to imprint the syllables on his mind.

The parakeet closed his mouth.

‘What I really want tonight is not to entertain but to be entertained. By someone young and handsome,’ she added.

Saeeda Bai smiled at the thought of Maan.

‘What do you think of him, Miya Mitthu?’ continued Saeeda Bai. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, you haven’t yet met Dagh Sahib, you have just brought your presence here today. And you must be hungry, that’s why you are refusing to talk to me – you can’t sing bhajans on an empty stomach. I’m sorry the service is so slow in this establishment, but Bibbo is a very scatterbrained girl.’

But soon Bibbo came in and the parakeet was fed.

The old cook had decided that a little daal should be boiled and then cooled, rather than merely soaked, for the bird. Now she too came to look at him.

Ishaq Khan came in with his sarangi, looking a little shame-faced.

Motu Chand came in and admired the parakeet.

Tasneem put down the novel she was reading, and came in to say ‘Miya Mitthu’ and ‘Mitthu Miya’ several times to the parakeet, delighting Ishaq with each iteration. At least she loved his bird.

And in due course the Raja of Marh was announced.





2.18


HIS HIGHNESS THE RAJA OF MARH was less drunk on arrival than he usually was, but rapidly remedied the situation. He had brought along a bottle of Black Dog, his favourite whisky. This immediately reminded Saeeda Bai of one of his more unpleasant characteristics, the fact that he would get incredibly excited when he saw dogs copulating. In Marh, when Saeeda Bai had visited, he had twice got dogs to mount a bitch in heat. This was the prelude to his flinging his own gross body on Saeeda Bai.

This took place a couple of years before Independence; despite Saeeda Bai’s revulsion she had not been able immediately to escape from Marh, where the crass Raja, restrained only by a succession of disgusted but tactful British Residents, held ultimate sway. Afterwards, she was too frightened of the sluggish and brutal man and his hired ruffians to cut off relations completely with him. She could only hope that his visits to Brahmpur would become less frequent with time.