“Wear it yourself,” she said, refusing to take it.
Three years after his father’s death, Nusswan married. A few weeks later, his mother’s withdrawal from life was complete. Where before she had responded obediently to instructions — get up, drink your tea, wash your hands, swallow your medicine — now there was only a wall of incomprehension.
The task of caring for her had outgrown Dina’s ability. When the smell from Mrs. Shroff’s room was past ignoring, Nusswan timidly broached the subject with his wife. He did not dare ask her directly to help, but hoped that her good nature might persuade her to volunteer. “Ruby, dear, Mamma is getting worse. She needs a lot of attention, all the time.”
“Put her in a nursing home,” said Ruby. “She’ll be better off there.”
He nodded placatingly, and did something less expensive and more human than shipping his mother to the old-age factory — as some unkind relatives would doubtless have put it — he hired a full-time nurse.
The nurse’s assignment was short-lived; Mrs. Shroff died later that year, and people finally understood that a doctor’s wife was no more immune to grief than other mortals. She died on the same day of the Shahenshahi calendar as her husband. Their prayers were performed consecutively at the same fire-temple by Dustoor Framji. By this time, Dina had learned how to evade the trap of his overfriendly hugs. When he approached, she held out a polite hand and took a step back, and another, and another. Short of pursuing her around the prayer-hall amid the large thuribles of flaming sandalwood, he could only smile foolishly and give up the chase.
After the first month’s prayer ceremonies for Mrs. Shroff were completed, Nusswan decided there was no point in Dina’s matriculating. Her last report card was quite wretched. She would have been kept back were it not for the principal who, loyal to the memory of Dr. Shroff, preferred to see the marks as a temporary aberration.
“Very decent of Miss Lamb to promote you,” said Nusswan. “But the fact remains that your results are hopeless. I’m not going to waste money on school fees for another year.”
“You make me clean and scrub all the time, I cannot study for even one hour a day! What do you expect?”
“Don’t make excuses. A strong young girl, doing a little housework — what’s that got to do with studying? Do you know how fortunate you are? There are thousands of poor children in the city, doing boot-polishing at railway stations, or collecting papers, bottles, plastic — plus going to school at night. And you are complaining? What’s lacking in you is the desire for education. This is it, enough schooling for you.”
Dina was not willing to concede without a struggle. She also hoped that Nusswan’s wife would intervene on her behalf. But Ruby preferred to stay out of the quarrel, so next morning when she was sent to market with a shopping list, Dina ran to her grandfather’s flat.
Grandfather lived with one of her uncles, in a room that smelled of stale balm. She held her breath and hugged him, then poured out her troubles in a torrent of words. “Please, Grandpa! Please tell him to stop treating me like this!”
Already started on the road to senility, he took a while to realize who Dina was exactly, and longer to understand what she wanted. His dentures were not in, making it difficult to decipher his speech. “Shall I get your teeth, Grandpa?” she offered.
“No, no, no!” He raised his hands and shook them vehemently. “No teeth. All crooked, and paining in the mouth. Bastard stupid dentist, useless fellow. My carpenter could make better teeth.”
She repeated everything slowly, and at last he grasped the issue. “Matric? Who, you? Of course you must do your matric. Of course. Of course. You must matriculate. And then college. Yes, of course I will tell that shameless rascal to send you, I will order that Nauzer. No, Nevil — that Nusswan, yes, I will force him.”
He dispatched a servant with a message for Nusswan to visit him as soon as possible. Nusswan could not refuse. He cared deeply about the family’s opinion of him. After delaying for several days, citing too much work at the office, he went, taking Ruby along to have an ally by his side. She was instructed to ingratiate herself with the old man in any way possible.
Grandfather had misplaced more of his memory since Dina’s visit. He remembered nothing of their conversation. He was wearing his teeth this time but had very little to say. With much prompting and reminiscing he appeared to recognize them. Then, ignoring Ruby altogether, he abruptly decided that Nusswan and Dina were man and wife. He refused to relinquish this belief, however much Dina coaxed and cajoled.
Ruby sat on the sofa holding the old man’s hand. She asked if he would like her to massage his feet. Without waiting for an answer she grabbed the left one and began kneading it. The toenails were yellow, long overdue for a clipping.
Enraged, he tore his foot from her grasp. “Kya karta hai? Chalo, jao!”
Too startled at being addressed in Hindi, Ruby sat there gaping. Grandfather turned to Nusswan, “Doesn’t she understand? What language does your ayah speak? Tell her to get off my sofa, wait in the kitchen.”
Ruby rose in a huff and stood by the door. “Rude old man!” she hissed. “Just because my skin is a little dark!”
Nusswan said a gruff goodbye and followed his wife, stopping to turn and look triumphantly at Dina, who was trying to sort out the confusion. She stayed behind, hoping Grandpa would summon some hidden resource and come to her rescue. An hour later she too gave up, kissed his forehead, and left.
It was the last time she saw him alive. He died in his sleep the following month. At the funeral, Dina wondered how much longer Grandpa’s toenails had grown under the white sheet that hid everything from view but his face.
For four years, Nusswan had been faithfully putting money aside for Dina’s wedding expenses. A considerable sum had collected, and he planned to get her married in the near future. He was certain he would have no trouble finding a good husband — as he proudly said to himself, Dina had grown into a beautiful young woman, she deserved nothing less than the best. It would be a lavish celebration, befitting the sister of a successful businessman, and people would talk about it for a long time to come.
When she turned eighteen, he started inviting eligible bachelors to their home. She invariably found them repugnant; they were her brother’s friends, and reminded her of Nusswan in all they said and did.
Nusswan was convinced that sooner or later there would be one she liked. He could no longer place restrictions on her comings and goings — she had outgrown those adolescent controls. So long as she did the housework and daily shopping according to Ruby’s lists, relative calm prevailed in the house. Nowadays the quarrelling, if there was any, was between Ruby and Dina, as though Nusswan had delegated this function to his wife.
At the market Dina sometimes used her initiative and substituted cauliflower for cabbage; or she felt a sudden yearning for chickoos and bought them instead of oranges. Then Ruby promptly accused her of sabotaging the carefully planned meals: “Wicked, malicious woman, ruining my husband’s dinner.” She delivered the charge and the verdict in a matter-of-fact, mechanical manner, all part of her role as the dutiful wife.
But it was not always squabbles and bickering between them. More and more, the two women worked together amicably. Among the items that Ruby had brought to the house following her marriage was a small sewing-machine with a hand crank. She showed Dina how to use it, teaching her to make simple items like pillowcases, bedsheets, curtains.
When Ruby’s first child was born, a son who was named Xerxes, Dina helped to look after him. She sewed baby clothes and knitted little caps and pullovers. For her nephew’s first birthday she produced a pair of bootees. On that happy morning they garlanded Xerxes with roses and lilies, and made a large red teelo on his forehead.