arrived on condolence visits. After the formal purpose of the call was dealt with, the conversation took on the hue of a genial get-together, and Nusswan and Ruby enjoyed the socializing. “It’s the best thing possible for Dina,” they agreed.
Rustom’s Shirin Aunty and Darab Uncle had attended all four days of prayer at the Towers of Silence, but came again after a week. They sat for a while, had a glass of lemon cordial and said, “For us, it is like losing a son. But remember, you are still our daughter. If you ever need anything, you can come to us. Remember, anything at all.”
Ruby overheard this and prickled. “That’s very kind of you. But we are here, Nusswan and I, to look after her.”
“Yes, of course, thanks be to God,” said the elderly couple, taken aback by the sharpness in her voice. “May He give you both a long, healthy life. Dina is very fortunate to have you two.” They left shortly, hoping they had managed to salve Ruby’s feelings.
A month passed, and Dina settled into her old routine, assuming her former place in the household. The servant was let go. Dina did not mind, it gave her something to do with her long, empty days. Xerxes and Zarir, of course, were thrilled to have Dina Aunty living with them. Xerxes was in the second standard and Zarir had just started kindergarten. She volunteered to take them to school; it would be easy, on her way to the bazaar in the mornings.
On Sunday evenings Nusswan organized card games. The three adults played rummy for a couple of hours while the children watched. Sometimes Dina allowed Xerxes and Zarir to hold her cards. At seven, the women started dinner, and Nusswan amused himself by building a house of cards with the children or glancing over the Sunday newspaper a second time.
Once a week Dina went to her empty flat to dust and clean. There she followed the exact habit of housework that she had developed when Rustom was alive. At the end of the cleaning she made tea. There in the privacy of the dingy kitchen she sat with her cup, remembering, sometimes crying softly, and the tea usually went cold. She often poured it away after drinking half a cup.
After following this secret pattern of mourning for some weeks, she began allowing a part of herself to pretend everything was normal, the flat was occupied, the separation temporary. There didn’t seem to her any harm in it, and the make-believe was so comforting.
Then one evening, as dusk was falling and the headlights of cars had started to come on, she caught herself gazing out from the verandah to see if Rustom’s bicycle was approaching. A shiver ran down her spine. She decided enough was enough. Flirting with madness was one thing; when madness started flirting back, it was time to call the whole thing off.
She renounced the weekly cleaning ritual. If a visit to the flat was necessary, she preferred not to go alone, and took her little nephews with her. Xerxes and Zarir enjoyed exploring the unlived-in space. The familiar rooms suddenly seemed remote and mysterious, filled with furniture yet inexplicably empty. The museum-like stillness baffled them. They shouted and ran and skipped through the flat to see if they could banish the void.
One afternoon, when Dina stopped by to pick up a few of her things, she found an envelope from the landlord. The children began organizing a cross-country race, for which Xerxes mapped out the route. “We will start from the verandah, and run all the way to the kitchen, then all the way to the wc, and then all the way back, going through all the rooms. Understood, Zarir?”
“Okay,” said Zarir. Dina announced ready, get set, go. She opened the windows in the front room and read the letter. It stated that since the premises were no longer occupied, notice was hereby given for the flat to be emptied of its effects and the keys returned within thirty days.
That night, when she showed the letter to Nusswan, he was livid. “Look at the shameless rascal of a landlord. Not even three months since poor Rustom passed away, and the snake is ready to strike. Nothing doing. You
“Yes, I think I’ll go back there from next week,” she agreed.
“That’s not what I meant. Stay here for a year, two years — as long as you like. But don’t give up your right. Mark my words, the time is not far-off when accommodation will be impossible to find in the city. An old flat like yours will be a gold mine.”
“It’s true,” said Ruby. “I heard that Putli Maasi’s son had to pay a pugree of twenty thousand rupees just to get his foot in the door. And the rent is five hundred a month. His flat is even smaller than yours.”
“Yes,” said Dina, “but my rent — ”
“Don’t worry, I’ll pay it,” said Nusswan. “And my lawyer will reply to this letter.”
He was thinking ahead: sooner or later Dina would remarry. At that juncture, it would be very unfortunate if the lack of a flat were to pose an impediment. He definitely would not want the couple living with him. That would be a blueprint for friction and strife.
On Rustom’s first death anniversary, Nusswan took the morning off from work. The previous day, he had written notes to Xerxes’ school and Zarir’s kindergarten that they would be “absent in order to attend their late uncle’s prayers at the fire-temple.” Dina was grateful for the entire family’s presence.
“Hard to imagine,” said Nusswan when they got back home, “a whole year has gone by. How time flies.”
A few days later he formally signalled an end to the mourning period by inviting some friends to tea.
Among them were Porus and Solly, two of the many eligible bachelors whom he had strenuously recommended to Dina a few years ago. The two were still single, and still quite eligible, according to Nusswan, if one were willing to forgive minor flaws like incipient potbellies and greying hair.
Priding himself on his subtlety, he said to Dina in private, “You know, either Porus or Solly would jump at the chance to become your husband. Porus’s law practice is flourishing beyond belief. And Solly is now a full partner in the accounting firm. They would have no problem that you are a widow.”
“How kind of them.”
He did not like the sarcasm. It was a reminder of the old Dina — the stubborn, insolent, defiant sister, who he assumed had been transformed into a better person. But he swallowed and continued calmly.
“You know, Dina, I am very impressed with you. No one can accuse you of being frivolous in mourning. You have acted so correctly, so perfectly, this whole year.”
“I was not acting. And it was not difficult.”
“I know, I know,” he said hastily, regretting his choice of words. “What I meant was, I admire your dignity. But the point is, you are still so young. It has been over a year, and you must think of your future.”
“Don’t worry, I understand your concern.”
“Good, that’s all I wanted to say. Come on, time for cards. Ruby!” he called to the kitchen. “Time for rummy!” Now there would be progress, Nusswan was certain.
Over the next few weeks he continued to invite the old assortment of bachelors. “Come, Dina,” he would say, “let me introduce you.” Then, pretending a memory lapse, he would exclaim, “Wait, wait, what am I saying, where is my head? You already know Temton. So let it be a reintroduction.”
All this was enacted in a manner suggesting that a relationship of deep significance was being resumed, a passion rekindled. It irritated Dina intensely, but she tried to keep from frowning while pouring the tea and passing the sandwiches. When the visitors departed, Nusswan resumed with his sledgehammer hints, praising one’s looks, commending the merits of another’s career, pointing out the inheritance awaiting a third.
After four months of bachelor-entertaining and no sign of cooperation from Dina, Nusswan lost his patience. “I have been tactful, I have been kind, I have been reasonable. But which raja’s son are you waiting for? Every chap I introduce, you turn your face away from him and go to the other side of the room. What is it that you want?”
“Nothing.”
“How can you want nothing? Your whole life will be nothing. Be sensible.”
“I know you are doing it for my own good, but I am just not interested.”
The answer reminded Nusswan once again of the old Dina, the ungrateful little sister. He suspected that she looked down upon his friends. And they were such good fellows, all of them. Never mind, he would not let her anger him.
“Fine. As I said, I am a reasonable person. If you don’t like these men, no one is forcing you. Find one yourself. Or we can hire a matchmaker. I hear that Mrs. Ginwalla has the best track record for successful kaaj. Let me know what you prefer.”
