A Suitable Boy(663)

‘But what was she wearing? The woman, I mean, not this wretched girl.’

‘Malati, what’s the matter with you? It’s been weeks –’

‘What was she wearing?’ asked Malati desperately.

‘A green sari. Wait, I’d better make sure I get my colours right this time, or you’ll kill me. Yes, Purnima said she was wearing a green sari – and lots of flashy emeralds. And she was tall and quite fair – that’s about all –’

‘Oh, what have I done –’ said Malati. ‘Oh, poor fellow – poor Kabir. What a terrible mistake. What have I done, what have I done?’

*

‘Malati,’ said Ustad Majeed Khan, ‘carry the tanpura with respect, with both hands. It isn’t the offspring of a cat. What is the matter with you?’

*

‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Lata, as Malati burst into her room.

‘It was me he was with –’ said Malati.

‘Who?’

‘Kabir – that day in the Red Fox, I mean the Blue Danube.’

A pang of literally green-eyed jealousy shot through Lata.

‘No – I don’t believe it. Not you!’

The cry was so vehement that Malati was taken aback. She almost feared Lata would attack her.

‘I don’t mean that – I don’t mean that at all,’ said Malati. ‘I mean that he wasn’t seeing some other girl. He hasn’t been seeing anyone else. I was told the name of the wrong place. I should have waited to hear more. Lata, I blame myself. It’s entirely my fault. I can imagine what you’ve gone through. But please, please don’t take my mistake out on him – and on yourself.’

Lata was silent for a minute. Malati expected her to burst into tears of relief or frustration, but no tears came. Then she said: ‘I won’t. But Malu, don’t blame yourself.’

‘I do, I do. Poor fellow – he was entirely sincere all along.’

‘Don’t,’ said Lata. ‘Don’t. Don’t. I’m glad Kabir wasn’t lying to you – I can’t tell you how glad. But I’ve – well, I’ve learned something as a result of all this wretchedness – I have, Malu, I really have – about myself – and about, well, the strength of – really, the strangeness of my own feelings for him.’

Her voice seemed to come from a no-man’s-land between hope and despair.





18.8


PROFESSOR MISHRA, frustrated that he had not got Pran to withdraw either his application for the readership or his hare-brained schemes of syllabus reform, was grateful nevertheless that things were not going at all well for his father. Opinion in the press was strongly critical of the means deployed by his opponents, but on the question of whether he would win or lose the election, most people were agreed that he had almost certainly lost. Professor Mishra took a lively interest in politics, and almost all his informants told him that he should work on the assumption that Pran’s father would not be in a position to wield much power to undo or avenge any injustice done to his son in the matter of the readership.

Professor Mishra was also pleased that he would know this fact for certain by the time the selection committee met. Counting in Mahesh Kapoor’s constituency was due to be held on the 6th of February, and the selection committee was to meet on the 7th. He would thus be secure in the knowledge that he could safely stiletto the young lecturer who was proving to be such an obstacle in the smooth running of the department.

At the same time, since one of the prospective candidates, and by no means the worst one, was the nephew of the Chief Minister, Professor Mishra could ingratiate himself further in the eyes of S.S. Sharma by helping him out in this small particular. And Professor Mishra expected that when any committee assignments in the government, particularly – but not necessarily – in the field of education, opened up, the name of the by-then-retired Professor O.P. Mishra would be considered in a not unfavourable light by the reigning powers.

What if S.S. Sharma were called to Delhi, as it was rumoured that Nehru had not merely requested but virtually demanded of him? Professor Mishra reflected that it was not likely that even Nehru would succeed in dislodging so wily a politician as S.S. Sharma from his happy fief. And if he were to go and take charge of a ministry in Delhi, well, plums could fall from Delhi too, not merely from the Secretariat at Brahmpur.

What if S.S. Sharma went to Delhi and Mahesh Kapoor became Chief Minister in Brahmpur? This prospect was horrible, but it was utterly remote. Everything was against it: the scandal surrounding his son, his own recent widowerhood, the fact that his political credibility would be damaged as soon as it was known and published that he had lost his own seat. Nehru liked him, it was true; and was particularly impressed by his work on the Zamindari Act. But Nehru was not a dictator, and the Congress MLAs of Purva Pradesh would elect their own Chief Minister.