“Fully. This discussion is very fascinating.”
By the time I return to what’s being said, it’s to hear Ram Nekchalan, the man who wants to be everyone’s best friend. “We shouldn’t help the Kampani to gather its false information. We should fight.”
Hypocrite! I can’t help it, I say, “What’s changed, Nekchalan? Last week you were talking as if this clinic was your idea.”
Someone laughs, it’s Farouq. Ram Nekchalan looks like he wants to kill.
Now everyone is looking at me, who’s crouched forward to hide the shape in his pants. Fool that I am, why did I speak? Was there ever a worse fucking time to draw attention to myself?
“Hah!” I give a shout.
Instantly there’s a loud ringing in the air, people are looking round to see from where it has come. It’s the instruments. Hundreds of strings singing tiny songs. Somraj whose eyes were closed as if to escape this futile discussion, now opens them and comes back from wherever he’s been. He says, “The boy is right. You people have no proof, yet you’d start fighting. This clinic is much needed, I for one will not support a boycott.”
Nisha’s arm round my shoulder tightens. Oh dear, caught between her dad and her lover, this means trouble. Somraj’s friends make matters no better by loudly agreeing with him. Says his student Shastri, who resembles a lizard, his jaw juts from beneath his ears like an iguana’s, “In a just society, a person is innocent until proven guilty.”
“Of women it’s said, do not despise them,” chimes in Somraj’s other pal, a rough and ready beardo is he, Somraj’s best friend plus his tabla player from the old days, I don’t remember his name, Something Khan, all tabla players in this city are something Khans. “Why should we not despise them? Because we might be despising a thing through which god has planned much good.”
The debate goes back and forth with the three musicians ganged up anti the rest. Why are they opposed? Is it because Elli too is a musician? Somraj, who listens to all sounds, maybe he’s heard her playing her piano.
On Zafar’s face, I guess because of Something Khan’s bringing god into it, are signs of irritation. “Is poison presumed harmless until it kills?” he retorts. “Isn’t this the lesson of Khaufpur, that you don’t wait to be harmed before you take action to protect? Friends, at long last we have a chance, however slim, of forcing the Kampani to court and winning proper compensation for our folk. We dare not put that at risk. We have to act together, so if you can’t support, at least don’t oppose.”
At this everyone starts talking at once. Some are grumbling, from other quarters comes loud support.
“I am not comfortable with this,” says Somraj, the only one who dares speak openly against Zafar’s proposal. “We need better evidence before we deny to people something that could help them.”
Says Zafar, “Abba, we have failed to find any trace of this woman’s history. This alone is suspicious, she’s almost certainly operating under a false name. We have tried all usual channels. Nisha has searched on the internest, nothing.”
“Nothing is not evidence,” says the stubborn Voice of Khaufpur.
“Abba,” says Zafar again, I hate to hear him calling Somraj father, “Animal is cultivating a friendship with Elli Barber. I feel confident that he’ll soon extract some useful information, then we will be in a position to judge.”
“Papa, if we could win this compensation,” says Nisha to her father, “think what a difference it will make to people.”
Still he’s not looking happy. I am happy, Nisha’s warm thigh is pressing against me, the demon below is thank god back to sleep.
“Just think, papa,” wheedles Nisha, “what the Kampani has paid till now is so small, hardly does it amount to the price of one cup of daal a day.”
Somraj sighs. “All right, I can’t support, but I won’t oppose.”
Now all can relax, what a wonderful thing is democracy. A general hubbub starts up, Timecheck looks at his watch.
Nekchalan giggles and says, “Three rupees.”
“Three rupees, what?” asks Farouq.
“Three rupees for a cup of daal.”
“Depends which daal,” someone else says.
“Urad daal, tuwar is dearer,” says the shopkeeper. “But it costs me more to get it in,” he adds quickly lest anyone should suspect him of profiteering.
“Pitiful it’s,” says Zafar. “What else does three rupees buy? Pir Gate tea, one glass? Yes, Animal?” This time I’ve raised my hand to speak.
“One tea plus one samosa at Chunaram’s.”
They laugh, so things are back to normal, good even, lund’s back under control, two speeches made at this important meeting.
“Talking of tea,” says Nisha, “would everybody like some?”
I’m up onto my four feet. Thé pour tous. The gurgling and bubbling of the pan on the fire sounds like laughter. We return bearing uneven loads, Nisha carrying a tray loaded with glasses, me with a single glass.
“Zafar brother, this is for you.”
The unsuspecting bugger accepts it gratefully, pulls me down beside him.
“Sit here, Animal,” he says to me. “You have a wise head. Let us plan how you shall interrogate Elli Barber.”
“What do you really think of her?” asks Nisha on my other side.
“What do I think?” I say, watching him drink. I can’t say what I really think. Poor Elli, you’re about to be betrayed by these undeserving arse-holes you came to help.
“I think she has blue legs.”
The last few days before Elli doctress’s clinic opens Zafar brother can be seen wandering with gleaming specs, frowning to himself, tugging at his beard. I whistle this tune whenever I see him, it’s that one, you know, that goes
Strolling down the highway I’m
eating my bhel-puri I’m
if your granny’s careless, what can I do?
if your heart is jealous, what can I do?
“Yaar Animal,” says Zafar, “do me a favour, don’t drive me mad.”
“Don’t you like my singing?”
“It’s not that,” says he, who hates saying a bad thing about anyone. “Just that lately I’m not feeling too good. Eaten something, must’ve.”
In Somraj’s house is an uneasy tension. Somraj won’t do anything to upset Zafar’s plan, but there is a tug of war and Nisha is the rope.
“A daughter should obey her father,” I’ve given a pull to Somraj’s side.
“Fine one you are to talk of duty,” says Nisha, “really Animal you are so transparent.” After a while she adds, “But quite sweet.” After some more time she says, “Zafar is upset. Some people came this afternoon from the bastis, they begged him to not boycott the clinic. Even Pyaré Bai came.”
“That day,” I said, “when I paid off the moneylender, I was thinking that when Elli doctress starts giving free treatment, people like Pyaré Bai will no longer need to borrow.”