A Fine Balance

more respect. Appearances are very important to some people.”

In Dina’s present state, anything that sounded like half-sensible advice was welcome. She touched up his grey gabardine trousers with the iron. For herself, she selected her most effective frock, the blue one from her second wedding anniversary, with the vivacious peplum that came alive with walking. Would it still fit? she wondered. Shutting the adjoining door, she tried it on, pleased to discover that a little squeezing was all it took to fasten the zipper. She went into the front room.

“How about some makeup, Aunty?”

Unused for years, the lipstick poked up its head reluctantly as she rotated the base. She made a false start and smudged the lip line, but the labial acrobatics soon came back to her, the pursing and puckering and tautening, the simian contortions that seemed so absurd in the mirror.

The rouge was caked stiff, but under the discoloured crust there was enough to blush her cheeks. The round velvet pad had desiccated into a leathery scab. Once, Rustom had teased her while she was making up, and she retaliated by rouging his nose with the pad. Soft as a rose petal, he had said.

If Nusswan mentioned marriage today, she didn’t know what she would do — overturn his desk, perhaps. She surveyed herself in the mirror. Her reflection nodded approvingly. She hoped that Maneck’s theory linking appearance and respect was correct.

“Are you ready?” she called into his room.

“Wow! You look absolutely beautiful.”

“That’s enough from you,” she scolded, inspecting him from head to toe. He passed muster except for his shoes. She made him shine them before they left.

The office peon made the two wait in the corridor while he disappeared to check with the boss. “Just watch, Nusswan will be busy,” she predicted.

The man returned to announce in a regretful voice, “Sahab is busy.” The peon had worked here for many years, but it always embarrassed him to have to abet his employer’s charade. “Please sit for a few minutes.” He lowered his head and withdrew.

“Goodness knows why Nusswan still tries to impress me in these silly ways,” said Dina. “His busyness will end in exactly fifteen minutes.”

But in her second prediction she was proved wrong, for the peon had mentioned to Nusswan that his sister was beautifully dressed today and accompanied by someone.

“Who?” said Nusswan. “Have we seen her before?”

“Not her, sahab. Him.”

Very curious, thought Nusswan, feeling his chin where he had nicked it that morning. “Young? Old?”

“Young,” said the peon. “Very young.”

Even more curious, decided Nusswan, his imagination wandering wishfully. Boyfriend, maybe? Dina was very attractive at forty-two. Almost as beautiful as she was twenty years ago, when she married that poor, unfortunate Rustom. Unfortunate from beginning to end. In looks, in money, in his life span…

Nusswan paused in his thoughts, gazed ceilingward, and patted his cheeks alternately, reverently, with his right fingertips, to ensure that his brother-in-law rested in peace. He had no desire to speak ill of the departed. So sad, his death. But also a God-given second chance for Dina to set things right, find a more suitable husband. If only she had grabbed the chance.

Such a terrible thing her pride was, and her strange idea of independence. Working like a slave to earn a pittance, humiliating the whole family. And now this latest fiasco with the export company. Slowly, he had learned to let his skin grow thick. But shaking off embarrassment was easier than discarding his sense of duty. She was still his little sister, he had to do his best for her.

What a waste, he thought, what a waste of a life. Like watching a tragic play. Only, instead of three hours it had lasted almost three decades — a family estranged, Xerxes and Zarir growing up deprived of the love and attention of their Dina Aunty, she hardly knowing her two nephews. So much sadness and misery.

But perhaps there was still a chance of a joyful ending. There could be nothing better than becoming one happy, united family again. Soon it would be time for grandchildren in his own life. If Dina had abdicated as aunty, she could be a grand-aunty.

And this young man with her today, her boyfriend. If they were serious and got married, how wonderful. Even if the chap was only thirty, he should consider himself lucky to have Dina — so attractive that she could put women half her age in the shade.

Yes, that was it — she wanted to introduce the fellow and get her older brother’s approval. Or why bring him along? As to their age difference, there could be no objection, Nusswan decided reluctantly. One had to be broad- minded, in these modern times. Yes, he would give them his blessing, even pay for this second wedding. As long as the expenses were reasonable — one hundred guests, modest flower arrangements, a small band…

Reviewing a lifetime, brooding, regretting, revising, it seemed like ages to Nusswan since their arrival had been announced. He checked his watch — it had been less than five minutes. He put the dial to his ear: it was working. Astonishing, how time and mind conspired in their tricks.

He told the peon to send in the visitors immediately. He wanted to continue in reality the celebration he had begun in imagination.

“What?” said Dina to the peon. “So soon?” She whispered to Maneck, “See, already you have brought us good luck — he never calls me in so fast.”

Nusswan rose and shot his cuffs, ready to extend a warm greeting to the man who would be brother-in-law. When he saw Maneck’s youth enter the office, his knees almost gave way. His crazy sister had done it again! He clenched the edge of the desk, pale with visions of shame and scandal in the community.

“Are you turning into a European, Nusswan? Or are you sick?” asked Dina.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he answered stiffly.

“How are Ruby and the boys?”

“They are well.”

“Good. I’m sorry to trouble you when you are so busy.”

“It’s all right.” Not two seconds in his office, and she was at him. Stupid to have raised his hopes. Where Dina was concerned, it was wiser to despair. Not one paisa would he spend on this wedding. If child marriage was a terrible ancient scourge, child-and-adult marriage was a modern madness. He wanted no part of it. And the doctor telling him to watch his blood pressure, to curtail his activities on the Share Bazaar — while here was his own sister, doing her share to shorten his life.

“But where are my manners,” said Dina. “Talking on without introductions. Maneck, this is my brother, Nusswan.”

“How do you do?” said Maneck.

“Plea… pleased to meet you.” Nusswan fell back in his chair after shaking hands. A typewriter pounded away in the next room. The ceiling fan hiccuped discreetly. Under a paperweight, a sheaf of papers fluttered like a bird in trouble.

“Maneck has heard a lot about you from me,” said Dina, “and I wanted the two of you to meet. He came to live with me a few months ago.”

“Live with you?” His sister had gone mad! Where did she think she was, in Hollywood?

“Yes, live with me. What else would a paying guest do?”

“Oh yes! Of course! What else?” The relief was so keen, it was unbearable. He wanted to fall to his knees. Oh, thank God! Saved! Thank God Almighty!

Then, hiding behind the sunshine and rainbow that had burst on the horizon, Nusswan discovered his pot of sludge: there would be no wedding. He felt cheated. Just like her. Cruel, unfeeling, leading him on with false hopes. To think how genuinely happy he had been for her a few minutes ago. Once again she had mocked him.

“The prices keep going up,” she said. “I couldn’t manage, I had to take a boarder. And I was so lucky to find a wonderful boy like Maneck.”

“Yes, of course. Very nice to meet you, Maneck. And where do you work?”

“Work?” said Dina indignantly. “He is just seventeen, he goes to college.”

“And what are you studying?”