A Suitable Boy(628)

At about one o’clock, the doctors emerged from the operating theatre. They looked tired. It was impossible to read Dr Bhatia’s expression. But when he saw Imtiaz, he drew a deep breath and said: ‘It’s good to see you, Dr Khan. I hope it will be all right. He was in severe shock when we operated, but we couldn’t wait. And it’s a good thing we didn’t. We did the usual laparotomy. There was severe laceration of the small intestine, and we had to perform several anastomoses, apart from cleaning out the abdominal cavity. That’s why it took us so long.’ He turned to the Nawab Sahib. ‘Your handsome son is now the proud possessor of a handsome seven-inch scar. I hope he will be all right. I am sorry we couldn’t wait for your permission to anaesthetize and operate.’

‘May I –’ began the Nawab Sahib.

‘What about –’ said Imtiaz simultaneously.

‘What about what?’ said Bhatia to Imtiaz.

‘What about the danger of sepsis, of peritonitis?’

‘Well, let us pray that that has been averted. There was quite a mess inside. But we will keep a close watch. We have given him penicillin. I am sorry, Nawab Sahib, what were you about to say?’

‘May I speak to him?’ said the old man falteringly. ‘I know he will want to speak to me.’

Dr Bhatia smiled. ‘Well, he is still under chloroform. If he does say something, you may not be able to make much sense of it. But you might find it interesting. Indeed, people have no idea what interesting things they say under anaesthesia. Your son kept talking about his sister.’

‘Imtiaz, you must call Zainab,’ said the Nawab Sahib.

‘I’ll do that at once, Abba. Dr Bhatia, we cannot thank you enough.’

‘Not at all, not at all. I only hope they get whoever did this. A single incision, the work of a second, and I don’t mind telling you, Dr Khan, if they hadn’t brought him to us directly, we would not have been able to save him. Indeed –’ He stopped.

‘Indeed, what?’ said Imtiaz sharply.

‘Indeed, it’s odd that what one person does in a second can take seven of us – and all this – three hours to undo.’

‘What did he say?’ said the Nawab Sahib to Imtiaz when Dr Bhatia had taken his leave. ‘What did they do to Firoz?’

‘Nothing very exciting, Abba,’ said Imtiaz, attempting reassurance. ‘They cut out the injured parts of his intestinal loops, and joined the healthy parts together again. But we have yards and yards of the stuff, so Firoz won’t miss what he’s lost.’

In the event, his reply sounded flippant, and far from reassuring to his father.

‘So he’s all right?’ said the Nawab Sahib, searching Imtiaz’s face.

Imtiaz paused, then said: ‘His chances are good, Abba. There were no complications. The only concern now is infection, and we can deal with that much better now than we could just a few years ago. Don’t worry. I am sure he will be well. Inshallah.’





17.16


THE Sub-Inspector would have followed up the trail of Firoz’s words the next morning if it had not been the case that a trail of his blood led to within a few yards of Saeeda Bai’s gate. When informed of this, he decided to act at once. Together with Bihari and another constable, he arrived at Saeeda Bai’s door. The watchman, who had been questioned in a threatening manner by the policemen earlier, and who had himself been perplexed and worried by the events of the night, admitted that he had seen both the Nawabzada and Kapoor Sahib from Prem Nivas earlier in the evening, as well as Dr Bilgrami.

‘We will need to speak with Saeeda Bai,’ said the Sub-Inspector.

‘Daroga Sahib, why not wait till morning?’ suggested the watchman.

‘Did you not hear me?’ said the Sub-Inspector, smoothing his moustache like a movie villain.

The watchman knocked and waited. There was no reply. He rapped at the door a few times with the blunt end of his spear. Bibbo emerged, saw the police, shut the door promptly and latched it.

‘Let us in at once,’ said the Sub-Inspector, ‘or we will break down the door. We have questions to ask you about a murder.’

Bibbo opened the door again. Her face was white. ‘A murder?’ she said.

‘Well, an attempt at it. You know what we are talking about. It’s pointless to deny it. The Nawab’s son might have been dead by now but for our prompt action. For all we know he might be dead anyway. We want to talk with you.’

‘I know nothing –’

‘He was here this evening, and so was Kapoor.’

‘Oh – Dagh Sahib,’ said Bibbo, looking daggers at the watchman, who shrugged his shoulders.