He stopped at a stall where a large number of tiny, almost formless grey-green balls of stubbly flesh lay imprisoned in a hooped cage.

'Ah!' he said.

His look of interest had an immediate effect on the white-capped stall-keeper, who appraised him, glancing at the book in his hand.

'These are not ordinary parakeets, Huzoor, these are hill parakeets, Alexandrine parakeets as the English sahibs say.'

The English had left more than three years ago, but Ishaq let it pass.

'I know, I know,' he said.

'I can tell an expert when I see one,' said the stall-keeper

152.in a most friendly manner. 'Now, why not have this one? Only two rupees - and it will sing like an angel.'

'A male angel or a female angel ?' said Ishaq severely.

The stall-keeper suddenly became obsequious.

'Oh, you must forgive me, you must forgive me. People here are so ignorant, one can hardly bear to part with one's most promising birds, but for one who knows parakeets I will do anything, anything.

Have this one, Huzoor.' And he picked out one with a larger head, a male.

Ishaq held it for a few seconds, then placed it back in the cage. The man shook his head, then said :

'Now for a true fancier, what can I provide that is better than this ? Is it a bird from Rudhia District that you want ? Or from the foothills in Horshana? They talk better than mynas.'

Ishaq simply said, 'Let's see something worth seeing.'

The man went to the back of the shop and opened a cage in which three little half-fledged birds sat huddled together. Ishaq looked at them silently, then asked to see one of them.

He smiled, thinking of parakeets he had known. His aunt was very fond of them, and had one who was still alive at the age of seventeen. 'This one,' he said to the man. 'And you know by now that I will not be fooled about the price either.'

They haggled for a while. Until the money changed hands the stall-keeper seemed a bit resentful.Then, as Ishaq was about to leave - with his purchase nestled in his handkerchief - the stall-keeper said in an anxious voice, 'Tell me how he is doing when you come by next time.'

'What do they call you ?' asked Ishaq.

'Muhammad Ismail, Huzoor. And how are you addressed ?' '-

'Ishaq Khan.'

'Then we are brothers!' beamed the stall-keeper. 'You must always get your birds from my shop.'

'Yes, yes,' agreed Ishaq, and walked hurriedly away. This was a good bird he had got, and would delight the heart of young Tasneem.

1532.15

ISHAQ went home, had lunch, and fed the bird a little flour mixed with water. Later, carrying the parakeet in his handkerchief, he made his way to Saeeda Bai's house. From time to time he looked at it in appreciation, imagining what an excellent and intelligent bird it potentially was. He was in high spirits. A good Alexandrine parakeet was his favourite kind of parrot. As he walked towards Nabiganj he almost bumped into a hand-cart.

He arrived at Saeeda Bai's house at about four and told Tasneem that he had brought something for her. She was to try and guess what it was.

'Don't tease me, Ishaq Bhai,' she said, fixing her beautiful large eyes on his face. 'Please tell me what it is.'

Ishaq looked at her and thought that 'gazelle-like' really did suit Tasneem. Delicate-featured, tall and slender, she did not greatly resemble her elder sister. Her eyes were liquid and her expression tender.

She was lively, but always seemed to be on the point of taking flight.

'Why do you insist on calling me Bhai ?' he asked.

'Because you are virtually my brother,' said Tasneem. 'I need one, too. And your bringing me this gift proves it. Now please don't keep me in suspense. Is it something to wear ?'

'Oh no - that would be superfluous to your beauty,' said Ishaq, smiling.

'Please don't talk that way,' said Tasneem, frowning. 'Apa might hear you, and then there will be trouble.'

'Well, here it is ' And Ishaq took out what looked

like a soft ball of fluffy material wrapped in a handkerchief.

'A ball of wool! You want me to knit you a pair of socks. Well, I won't. I have better things to do.'

'Like what ?' said Ishaq.

'Like ...' began Tasneem, then was silent. She glanced uncomfortably at a long mirror on the wall.

What did she do ? Cut vegetables to help the cook, talk to her sister, read novels, gossip with the maid, think about life. But before

154,

she could meditate too deeply on the subject, the ball moved, and her eyes lit up with pleasure.

'So you see -' said Ishaq, 'it's a mouse.'

'It is not -' said Tasneem with contempt. 'It's a bird. I'm not a child, you know.'

'And I'm not exactly your brother, you know,' said Ishaq. He unwrapped the parakeet and they looked at it together. Then he placed it on a table near a red lacquer vase. The stubbly ball of flesh looked quite disgusting.

'How lovely,' said Tasneem.

'I selected him this morning,' said Ishaq. 'It took me hours, but I wanted to have one that would be just right for you.'

Tasneem gazed at the bird, then stretched out her hand and touched it. Despite its stubble it was very soft. Its colour was very slightly green, as its feathers had only just begun to emerge.

'A parakeet ?'

'Yes, but not a regular one. He's a hill parakeet. He'll talk as well as a myna.'

When Mohsina Bai died, her highly talkative myna had quickly followed her. Tasneem had been even lonelier without the bird, but she was glad that Ishaq had not got her another myna but something quite different. That was doubly considerate of him.

'What is he called?'

Ishaq laughed. 'Why do you want to call him anything ? Just "tota" will do. He's not a warhorse that he should be called Ruksh or Bucephalas.'