Mahesh Kapoor sat through all this with head bowed, silent and unresponsive. He had attended because it was his duty to do so. He would rather have been almost anywhere else. Begum Abida Khan, thinking of her nephew lying on what could well have been his deathbed, appealed loudly from the Speaker to God for justice, so that condign punishment would be meted out to the butcher responsible for his grievous injury. Dramatically she pointed a finger at Mahesh Kapoor, and then raised it heaven-wards. Mahesh Kapoor closed his eyes and saw the image of Maan in jail; he knew too well that if he had ever had the power or the influence to save his son, he did not have it now.
The vote of thanks passed as overwhelmingly as expected. Various other bits of legislative business were also taken up – such as the announcement of the President’s or the Governor’s assent to various bills, the resignation of various MLAs who had also been elected as MPs, and the tabling of various ordinances that it had become necessary to promulgate when the legislature had not been in session. The session then broke off for a few days for Holi before going on to the vote on account, which it passed after brief debate.
18.27
HOLI was not celebrated at Prem Nivas at all this year, nor at Pran’s house. Maan and Imtiaz, high on bhang, helping Professor Mishra into a large tub of pink water; Savita, drenched in colour, laughing and crying and promising revenge; Mrs Mahesh Kapoor making sure that her grandnieces and grandnephews from Rudhia all got their favourite sweets; the bejewelled Saeeda Bai singing ghazals before a charmed audience of men while their wives looked down from the balcony in fascinated disapproval: these must have appeared as scenes of an unreal fantasy to anyone who remembered them.
Pran took some dry pink and green powder and smeared a little on his daughter’s forehead, but that was all. It was her first Holi, and he blessed her for her unawareness of all the darkness and sadness that existed in the world.
Lata tried to study, but she was unable to. Her heart was full, as much with Maan and the deep sorrow of his family as with her own forthcoming marriage. Mrs Rupa Mehra, when she heard of Lata’s unilateral action in writing to Haresh, was both furious and delighted. Lata had passed on Haresh’s message of love for her mother and his words of regret before she had broken the real news. Torn between hugging her daughter to her bosom and giving her at least one tight slap for not having consulted her, Mrs Rupa Mehra burst into tears.
Needless to say, there was no question of the wedding taking place in Prem Nivas. Given Arun’s views on Haresh, Lata had refused to get married from Sunny Park either. The Chatterji house at Ballygunge was impossible for several reasons. That only left Dr Kishen Chand Seth’s house.
Had Dr Kishen Chand Seth been in Mrs Rupa Mehra’s position, he would certainly have slapped Lata. After all, he had slapped Mrs Rupa Mehra when Arun was a year old because he thought she wasn’t controlling the baby properly. He had never had any truck with incompetence or insubordination. He now bluntly refused to countenance, let alone assist, the marriage of a granddaughter in which he had not been consulted from the beginning. He told Mrs Rupa Mehra that his house was not a hotel or a dharamshala, and that she would have to look elsewhere.
‘And that is that,’ he added.
Mrs Rupa Mehra threatened to kill herself.
‘Yes, yes, do so,’ said her father impatiently. He knew that she loved life too much, especially when she could be justifiably miserable.
‘And I will never see you again,’ she added. ‘Never in all my life. Say goodbye to me,’ she sobbed, ‘for this is the last time you will see your daughter.’ With that she flung herself weeping into his arms.
Dr Kishen Chand Seth staggered back and nearly dropped his stick. Carried away by her emotion and by the greater realism of this threat, he too started sobbing violently, and pounded his stick several times on the floor to give vent to his feelings. Very soon it was all settled.
‘I hope Parvati does not mind,’ gasped Mrs Rupa Mehra. ‘She is so good – so good –’
‘If she does, I will get rid of her,’ cried Dr Kishen Chand Seth. ‘A wife one can divorce – but one’s children – never!’ These words – which it seemed to him he had heard somewhere before – sent him into a renewed paroxysm of weeping.
When Parvati came back from shopping a few minutes later, holding out a pair of pink high-heeled shoes and saying, ‘Kishy darling, look at what I’ve bought from Lovely,’ her husband grinned weakly, terrified to break the news of the inconvenience he had just taken on.
18.28
THE NAWAB SAHIB had heard about Mahesh Kapoor’s question to Waris about Firoz’s health. He also knew that when the count was over, Mahesh Kapoor had refused a recount. Later he heard from his munshi that he had even refused to lodge an election petition.