In the end they both went. Seeing how tense Dina was, he kept repeating, “Has to be a perfectly simple explanation.” She nodded, walking faster. He had to make an effort to keep up.
It was after nine, and the streets were quiet. In the lane at the end of which stood the ice-cream shop, a knot of people had gathered by the footpath. As they got closer, Nusswan and Dina noticed that the police were also present.
“Wonder what’s going on,” said Nusswan, trying to conceal his alarm.
Dina was the first to spot the bicycle. “It’s Rustom’s,” she said. Her voice had turned into a stranger’s, sounding unfamiliar to her own ears.
“Are you sure?” He knew she was. The bicycle was mangled but the saddle was whole. He pushed his way through the crowd towards the policemen. A roaring storm filled her ears, and their words reached her feebly, as though from a great distance.
“A bastard lorry driver,” said the sub-inspector. “Hit and run. No chance for the poor man, I think. Head completely crushed. But ambulance has taken him to hospital anyway.”
A stray dog lapped at the thick pink puddle near the bicycle. Strawberry ice cream was in stock, thought Dina numbly. A policeman kicked the sand-coloured mongrel. It yelped and retreated, then returned for more. When he kicked it again, she screamed.
“Stop that! What harm is it doing to you? Let it eat!”
Startled, the policeman said “Yes madam” and stepped back. The dog slurped hungrily, whimpering with pleasure while keeping a wary eye on the man’s foot.
Nusswan obtained the name of the hospital. The sub-inspector took his address, and asked Dina, who was staring at the twisted bicycle, for hers. The bicycle would be retained as evidence for the time being — in case the lorry driver was found, he explained gently. He offered to give them a lift to the hospital.
“Thank you,” said Nusswan. “But they will be wondering at home what happened.”
“It’s okay, I’ll send a constable to say not to worry, there’s been an accident and you are at the hospital,” said the sub-inspector. “Then you can explain everything later.”
Thanks to the sub-inspector’s help, procedures were expedited at the hospital, and Nusswan and Dina were able to leave quickly. “Let’s take a taxi,” said Nusswan.
“No, I want to walk.”
By the time they reached home, the tears were silently streaming down her cheeks. Nusswan held her and stroked her head. “My poor sister,” he whispered. “My poor little sister. I wish I could bring him back for you. Cry now, it’s all right, cry all you need to.” He wept a little himself as he told Ruby about the accident, in whispers.
“Oh God!” sobbed Ruby. “What is the meaning of such misfortune! In a few minutes, Dina’s whole world destroyed! How can it be? Why does He allow such things?” She composed herself before waking the children, while Dina went to change out of her blue frock.
“Can we eat the strawberry ice cream now?” asked Xerxes and Zarir sleepily.
“Rustom Uncle is not well, we have to go home,” said Ruby, deciding it was better to explain gradually.
Dina soon emerged from her room, and Nusswan went to her side. “You must also come home with us, you cannot stay here alone.”
“Of course, absolutely,” said Ruby, taking her hand and squeezing it.
Nodding, Dina went to the kitchen and began making a package of the leftover pulao-dal. Ruby watched curiously, half-fearfully, before asking, “Can I help?”
Dina shook her head. “No sense wasting this food. On our way home, we can give it to a beggar at the corner.”
Later, Nusswan would say to whomever he was recounting the events that he was really impressed with the dignified way his sister had behaved on that cruel night. “No wailing, no beating the chest or tearing the hair like you might expect from a woman who had suffered such a shock, such a loss.” But he also remembered their mother’s dignity on a similar occasion, and the disintegration that had followed in its wake. He hoped Dina would not follow the same pattern.
Dina packed her valise with a white sari and other things she would need for the next few days. It was the same one she had brought with her three years ago on her wedding night.
After the funeral and four days of prayers, Dina prepared to return to her flat. “What’s the rush?” said Nusswan. “Stay here a little longer.”
“Of course,” said Ruby. “Here you are with family. What will you do there all alone?”
Dina wavered easily, for she did not feel ready to go back. The most difficult hours were the ones before dawn. She slept with one arm over a pillow. Sometimes she nudged the pillow lightly with her elbow, her signal to Rustom that she wanted his arm around her. When the human weight did not materialize, she awakened to emptiness, relearning the loss in the darkness before sunrise. Occasionally, she called out his name, and Ruby or Nusswan, if they heard her, came into the room and held her tight, stroking her hair.
“It’s not as though you are going to be a burden on us by staying,” said Nusswan. “In fact, you will be company for Ruby.”
So Dina stayed. Word got about that she was temporarily at her brother’s place, and a stream of relatives 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.