“Should I make a complaint to the police?” asked Dina.
He gave her a weary look. “If you like. But you might as well complain to that crow on your window.” The bird cawed and flew away; he felt vindicated.
Beggarmaster’s assurances could not fully assuage Dina’s doubts. She went to Nusswan’s office in order to inform him of the situation. In case his help was required later, she decided, or he would say: Digging a well when the house is on fire.
The peon informed her sadly that Nusswan sahab was out of town for a meeting; he always felt sad about sahab’s sister. “He won’t be back till tomorrow night.”
Dina left the office, tempted to stop at the Venus Beauty Salon and talk with Zenobia. But to what purpose? Empty consolation would solve nothing; besides, it would be accompanied by Zenobia’s infuriating “I warned you but you wouldn’t listen.”
She returned to the flat, praying that Beggarmaster would come through. A stench followed her inside the door, and she puzzled about it. “Can you smell it?” she asked Ishvar.
They went around room by room, checking the kitchen and wc as well. The malodour trailed them everywhere without revealing itself. “Maybe it’s from outside, from the gutter,” said Om. But when they stuck their heads out through the window, the smell seemed to diminish.
“Those stinking goondas must have left it behind,” she said, and Ishvar agreed. Then Om, who was kneeling on the floor, picking up the last bits of broken glass, discovered the smell was coming from her shoe. She had stepped in something on the pavement. She went outside, scraped off the brown mess from the sole, and washed it.
For most of the day Maneck stayed in bed with a thundering headache. Dina and the tailors attempted to restore some order to the shambles of the flat. They swept up the cotton fill, stuffed it back in, and sewed up the slashes, but the cushions still looked deflated. Plumping and patting could not take away their limpness. Next they tackled the paan stains, which were everywhere.
“God knows why we are wasting our energy,” she said. “Tomorrow night we could be thrown out, if your Beggarmaster is just big talk.”
“I think it will be all right,” said Ishvar. “Shankar always says Beggarmaster is very influential.”
When he had repeated this for the fourth time late in the day, Dina was irritated. “So now a poor legless beggar is your fountain of wisdom and advice, is he?”
“No,” said Ishvar, taken aback. “But he has known Beggarmaster a long time. I mean… in the work camp he helped us.”
“Then why isn’t he here yet? The evening is almost over.”
“Beggarmaster has betrayed us,” said Om. His uncle did not contradict him.
Their hopes of rescue faded with the twilight. As the night deepened, the four sat in silence, attempting to discern the face of tomorrow. So this was it, thought Dina, the end of the independence she had struggled so long to preserve. There was no use raising her hopes about Nusswan. Even his lawyer couldn’t do much if the landlord’s goondas put her furniture on the pavement. What was it that lawyers said — possession is nine-tenths of the law. And, in any case, the idea of independence was a fantasy. Everyone depended on someone. If not on Nusswan, she would have to continue relying on the tailors, and on Au Revoir Exports — which came to the same thing … and Nusswan could arrange for a lorry to remove her things, take them to her parents’ house — which he liked to call his house. Always saying it was his duty to look after his sister. Now he could, as long as he wanted.
A cat screeched outside the kitchen window, and they sat up, startled. More cats took up the cry. “Wonder what’s scaring them,” said Ishvar uneasily.
“They just like to scream sometimes,” said Maneck. But he went to look, and the others followed. There was no sign of anything unusual in the alley.
“You think the goondas will come back tonight?” said Om.
“Ibrahim gave us forty-eight hours’ notice,” said Dina. “So maybe tomorrow night. Listen, even though I am going to ask my brother’s help, our chances are not very good. The time is so short. And who knows what will happen? I don’t want more fighting here. Tomorrow morning, you must take your belongings and leave. Later, if everything is fine, you can return.”
“I was thinking the same,” said Ishvar. “We will go to the nightwatchman. And Maneck can try at the hostel.”
“But we must keep in touch,” said Om. “Maybe we can sew in your brother’s house. Other companies will give you business, even if this one cancels.”
“Yes, we’ll do something,” she said, not having the heart to tell them Nusswan would forbid it. “But you shouldn’t depend only on me, you must also look for work elsewhere.”
Maneck was silent as they persevered to rescue the shreds of their livelihood. Not all their skills with needle and thread could sew it together again, he thought. Did life treat everyone so wantonly, ripping the good things to pieces while letting bad things fester and grow like fungus on unrefrigerated food? Vasantrao Valmik the proofreader would say it was all part of living, that the secret of survival was to balance hope and despair, to embrace change. But embrace misery and destruction? No. If there were a large enough refrigerator, he would be able to preserve the happy times in this flat, keep them from ever spoiling; and Avinash and chess, which soured so soon, he would save that too; and the mountains of snow, and the General Store, before it all went gloomy, before Daddy became unrecognizable, and Mummy his willing slave.
But it was an unrefrigerated world. And everything ended badly. What could he do now? The thought of the hostel was more nauseating than ever. And if he went home, the fighting would start with Daddy. There was no way out, it was checkmate for him.
“Listen, the cats have stopped screaming,” said Ishvar. “So quiet now.” They strained to hear. The silence was as perturbing as the screeching had been.
The tailors had a quick early-morning wash before the tap went dry. There was no telling when they would have again the luxury of a bathroom. In their immediate future they could only see alleyways and standpipes.
Maneck was not in a hurry. His lip was better today, the swelling reduced, and his headache was gone. He sat around listlessly, or moved from room to room as though searching for something.
“Come on, Maneck,” said Dina, “it’s getting late. Do something, pack your boxes. Or go to the hostel first, see if they have a place for you.”
He returned to his room, pulled the suitcase out from under the bed and opened it. When she looked in a few minutes later, he had the chessboard set up, and was staring at the pieces.
“Are you crazy?” she yelled at him. “Time is running out, you have still so much to do!”
“I’ll do it when I feel like it. I’m an independent person, even if you are giving up.” He deliberately picked the word she used when talking about herself.
It stung, but she ignored it. “Big talk is easy. We’ll see how independent you are when the goondas come back and break your head open. One beating wasn’t enough for you, it looks like.”
“Why should you care? You are packing up and leaving, not even showing a little regret.”
“Regret is a luxury I can’t afford. And why should you make such a long face? You would have gone anyway, when you finished your diploma. If not now, then six months later.” She left the room angrily.
Ishvar left the trunk he was packing on the verandah, and came in. He sat on the bed, putting his arm around him. “You know, Maneck, the human face has limited space. My mother used to say, if you fill your face with laughing, there will be no room for crying.”
“What a nice saying,” he answered bitterly.
“Right now, Dinabai’s face, and Om’s, and mine are all occupied. Worrying about work and money, and where to sleep tonight. But that does not mean we are not sad. It may not show on the face, but it’s sitting inside here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “In here, there is limitless room — happiness, kindness, sorrow, anger, friendship — everything fits in here.”
“I know, I know,” said Maneck, and began putting away the chess pieces. “Are you going to meet the nightwatchman now?”
“Yes, we’ll fix up with him and return. To help Dinabai pack her things.”
“Don’t forget to give us your hostel address before leaving,” said Om. “We’ll come see you there.”
