“Refrigeration and air-conditioning.”
“Very wise choice,” said Nusswan. “These days only a technical education will get you ahead. The future lies with technology and modernization.” Filling the silence with words was a way of dealing with the tumult of emotions his sister had exploded in him. Empty words, to carry away the foolishness he felt.
“Yes, the country has been held back for too long by outdated ideologies. But our time has come. Magnificent changes are taking place. And the credit goes to our Prime Minister. A true spirit of renaissance.”
Dina didn’t mind his rambling, relieved that at least the matrimonial topic had not been revived. “I have a boarder, but I have lost my tailors,” she said.
“What a pity,” said Nusswan, slightly confused by her interruption. “The main thing is, now we have pragmatic policies instead of irrelevant theories. For example, poverty is being tackled head-on. All the ugly bustees and filthy jhopadpattis are being erased. Young man, you are not old enough to remember how wonderful this city once was. But thanks to our visionary leader and the Beautification Programme, it will be restored to its former glory. Then you will see and appreciate.”
“I was able to finish the last dresses only because Maneck helped,” put in Dina. “He worked so hard, side by side with me.”
“That’s very good,” said Nusswan. “Very good indeed.” The sound of his own voice had made him loquacious as usual. “Hardworking, educated people like Maneck is what we need. Not lazy, ignorant millions. And we also need strict family planning. All these rumours of forced sterilization are not helping. You must have heard that nonsense.”
Dina and Maneck shook their heads in unison.
“Probably started by the CIA — saying people in remote villages are being dragged from their huts for compulsory sterilization. Such lies. But my point is, even if the rumour is true, what is wrong in that, with such a huge population problem?”
“Wouldn’t it be undemocratic to mutilate people against their will?” asked Maneck, in a tone that suggested total agreement rather than a challenge.
“Mutilate. Ha ha ha,” said Nusswan, avuncular and willing to pretend it was a clever joke. “It’s all relative. At the best of times, democracy is a seesaw between complete chaos and tolerable confusion. You see, to make a democratic omelette you have to break a few democratic eggs. To fight fascism and other evil forces threatening our country, there is nothing wrong in taking strong measures. Especially when the foreign hand is always interfering to destabilize us. Did you know the CIA is trying to sabotage the Family Planning Programme?”
Maneck and Dina shook their heads again, again in perfect unison and with straight faces. There was the subtlest touch of burlesque about it.
Nusswan eyed them suspiciously before continuing. “What’s happening is, CIA agents are tampering with consignments of birth-control devices and stirring up trouble among religious groups. Now don’t you agree that Emergency measures are necessary against such dangers?”
“Maybe,” said Dina. “But I think the government should let homeless people sleep on the pavements. Then my tailors wouldn’t have disappeared and I wouldn’t have come here to bother you.”
Nusswan lifted his index finger and waggled it like a hyperactive windshield wiper. “People sleeping on pavements gives industry a bad name. My friend was saying last week — he’s the director of a multinational, mind you, not some small, two-paisa business — he was saying that at least two hundred million people are surplus to requirements, they should be eliminated.”
“Eliminated?”
“Yes. You know — got rid of. Counting them as unemployment statistics year after year gets us nowhere, just makes the numbers look bad. What kind of lives do they have anyway? They sit in the gutter and look like corpses. Death would be a mercy.”
“But how would they be eliminated?” inquired Maneck in his most likeable, most deferential tone.
“That’s easy. One way would be to feed them a free meal containing arsenic or cyanide, whichever is cost- effective. Lorries could go around to the temples and places where they gather to beg.”
“Do many business people think like this?” asked Dina curiously.
“A lot of us think like this, but until now we did not have the courage to say so. With the Emergency, people can freely speak their minds. That’s another good thing about it.”
“But the newspapers are censored,” said Maneck.
“Ah yes, yes,” said Nusswan, at last betraying impatience. “And what’s so terrible about that? It’s only because the government does not want anything published which will alarm the public. It’s temporary — so lies can be suppressed and people can regain confidence. Such steps are necessary to preserve the democratic structure. You cannot sweep clean without making the new broom dirty.”
“I see,” said Maneck. The bizarre aphorisms were starting to grate on him, but he did not possess the ammunition to launch even a modest counterattack. If only Avinash were here. He would straighten out this idiot. He wished he had paid more attention when Avinash talked politics.
Still struggling with the earlier maxim, about breaking democratic eggs to make a democratic omelette, Maneck tried to formulate a variation by juggling democracy, tyranny, frying pan, fire, hen, hard-boiled eggs, cooking oil. He thought he had one: A democratic omelette is not possible from eggs bearing democratic labels but laid by the tyrannical hen. No, too cumbersome. And anyway, the moment was past.
“The important thing,” said Nusswan, “is to consider the concrete achievements of the Emergency. Punctuality has been restored to the railway system. And as my director friend was saying, there’s also a great improvement in industrial relations. Nowadays, he can call the police in just one second, to take away the union troublemakers. A few good saltings at the police station, and they are soft as butter. My friend says production has improved tremendously. And who benefits from all this? The workers. The common people. Even the World Bank and the IMF approve of the changes. Now they are offering more loans.”
Keeping her expression as grave as she could, Dina said, “Nusswan, can I make a request please?”
“Yes, of course.” He wondered how much it would be this time — two hundred rupees or three?
“About the plan to eliminate two hundred million. Can you please tell your business friends and directors not to poison any tailors? Because tailors are already hard to find.”
Maneck smothered a laugh before it broke. Nusswan spied the facial effort as he said to her disgustedly, “It’s useless talking to you about serious things. I don’t know why I even bother.”
“I enjoyed listening,” said Maneck gravely.
Nusswan felt betrayed — first her, now him. He wondered what sort of mockery and ridicule took place at his expense when the two were alone.
“I had fim too,” said Dina. “Coming to your office is the only entertainment I can afford, you know that.”
Glowering, he began moving papers on his desk. “Tell me what you need and leave me alone. There’s a lot of work to do.”
“Be careful, Nusswan, your eyebrows are doing funny exercises.” She decided not to press her luck further, and got down to business. “I haven’t given up the export work. It’s just a matter of time before I find new tailors. But till then I cannot accept more orders.”
The moment of asking, the moment she hated, did not become less unpalatable with the brisk matter-of-fact explanation or the levity leading up to it. “Two hundred and fifty will be enough to get me through this month.”
Nusswan rang for the peon, and filled out a cash voucher. Dina and Maneck were treated to a vehement display of penmanship, the ballpoint scratching savagely across the form. He crossed his t’s and dotted his i’s with heavy blows, as though competing with the typewriter being battered in the next room.
The peon carried the voucher to the cashier across the corridor. The run-down ceiling fan laboured like a noisy little factory. So much money, thought Dina, and he still hadn’t air-conditioned the office. She lowered her eyes, fixing them on a sandalwood paper-knife stuck strategically inside a half-opened envelope. The peon delivered the money and retreated.
Nusswan began, “None of this would be necessary if only — ” He glanced at Dina, unable to reach her downcast eyes, then at Maneck, and abandoned the thought. “Here,” he held out the notes.
“Thank you,” she accepted, eyes still averted.
“Don’t mention it.”
“I’ll return it as soon as possible.”
He nodded, picking up the paper-knife, and opened the rest of the envelope.
