in the morning,' murmured Saeeda Bai, trying to still the confusion in her mind. 'Please sit down, please sit down.'

158Until now the Nawab Sahib had sent a servant with the monthly envelope. For the last two months, Saeeda Bai remembered it had been just a couple of days after her period. And this month too, of course....

Her thoughts were interrupted by Firoz, who said : 'I happened to bump into my father's private secretary, who was coming -'

'Yes, yes.' Saeeda Bai looked upset. Firoz wondered why y^his appearance should have distressed her so much. That many years ago there must have been something between the Nawab Sahib and Saeeda Bai's mother - and that his father continued to send a little something each month to support the family - surely there was nothing in this to cause her such agitation. Then he realized that she must have been upset even before his arrival by something quite different.

I have come at a bad time, he thought, and decided to go.

Tasneem walked in with the copper birdcage and, seeing him, suddenly stopped.

They looked at each other. For Tasneem, Firoz was just another handsome admirer of her sister's - but startlingly so. She lowered her eyes quickly, then looked at him again.

She stood there with her yellow dupatta, the birdcage in her right hand, her mouth slightly open in astonishment perhaps at his astonishment. Firoz was staring at her, transfixed.

'Have we met before ?' he asked gently, his heart beating fast.

Tasneem was about to reply when Saeeda Bai said, 'Whenever my sister goes out of the house she goes in purdah. And this is the first time that the Nawabzada has graced my poor lodgings with his presence. So it is not possible that you could have met. Tasneem, put the cage down, and go back to your Arabic exercises. I have not got you a new teacher for nothing.'

'But...' began Tasneem.

'Go back to your room at once. I will take care of the bird. Have you soaked the daal yet ?'

'I...'

159'Go and do so immediately. Do you want the bird to starve ?'

When the bewildered Tasneem had left, Firoz tried to orient his thoughts. His mouth was dry. He felt strangely disturbed. Surely, he felt, even if we have not met on this mortal plane, we have met in some former life. The thought, counter to the religion he nominally adhered to, affected him the more powerfully for all that. The girl with the birdcage had in a few short moments made the most profound and unsettling impression on him.

After abridged pleasantries with Saeeda Bai, who seemed to be paying as little attention to his words as he to hers, he walked slowly out of the door.

Saeeda Bai sat perfectly still on the sofa for a few minutes. Her hands still cradled the little parakeet gently. He appeared to have gone off to sleep. She wrapped him up warmly in a piece of cloth and set him down near the red vase again. From outside she heard the call to evening prayer, and she covered her head.

All over India, all over the world, as the sun or the shadow of darkness moves from east to west, the call to prayer moves with it, and people kneel down in a wave to pray to God. Five waves each day - one for each namaaz ripple across the globe from longitude to longitude. The component elements change direction, like iron filings near a magnet - towards the house of God in Mecca. Saeeda Bai got up to go to an inner room where she performed the ritual ablution and began her prayers :

In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate

Praise belongs to God, the Lord of all Being, the All-Merciful, the All-Compassionate,

the Master of the Day of Doom. Thee only we serve ; to Thee alone we pray for succour.

Guide us in the straight path, the path of those whom Thou hast blessed,

not those against whom Thou art wrathful,

nor of those who are astray.

160But through this, and through her subsequent kneelings and prostrations, one terrifying line fromthe Holy Book recurred again and again to her mind :

And God alone knows what you keep secret and what you publish.

'_ t in six months. Sanitation, drinking water, electricity, paving, civic sense - it was simply a question of making sensible decisions and having the requisite facilities to implement them. Haresh was as keen on 'requisite facilities' as he was on his 'To Do' list. He was impatient with himself if anything was lacking in the former or undone in the latter. He also believed in 'following things through'.

Oh yes; Kedarnath's son, what's his name now, Bhaskar! he said to himself. I should have got Dr Durrani's address from Sunil last night. He frowned at his own lack of foresight.

But after lunch he collected Bhaskar anyway and took a tonga to Sunil's. Dr Durrani looked as if he had walked to Sunil's house, reflected Haresh, so he couldn't live all that far away.

Bhaskar accompanied Haresh in silence, and Haresh, for his own part, was happy not to say anything other than where they were going.

Sunil's faithful, lazy servant pointed out Dr Durrani's house, which was a few doors away. Haresh paid off the tonga, and walked over with Bhaskar.

4.10

A tall, good-looking fellow in cricket whites opened the door.

'We've come to see Dr Durrani,' said Haresh. 'Do you think he might be free ?'

'I'll just see what my father is doing,' said the young

2-99man in a low, pleasant, slightly rough-edged voice. 'Please come in."

A minute or two later he emerged and said, 'My father will be out in a minute. He asked me who you were, and I realized I hadn't asked. I'm sorry, I should introduce myself first. My name's Kabir.'

Haresh, impressed by the young man's looks and manner, held out his hand, smiled in a clipped sort of way, and introduced himself. 'And this is Bhaskar, a friend's son.'

The young man seemed a bit troubled about something, but did his best to make conversation.

'Hello, Bhaskar,' said Kabir. 'How old are you ?'

'Nine,' said Bhaskar, not objecting to this least original of questions. He was pondering what all this was about.

After a while Kabir said, 'I wonder what's keeping my father,' and went back in.

When Dr Durrani finally came into the drawing room, he was quite surprised to see his visitors.

Noticing Bhaskar, he asked Haresh : 'Have you come to see one of my, er, sons ?'

Bhaskar's eyes lit up at this unusual adult behaviour. He liked Dr Durrani's strong, square face, and in particular the balance and symmetry of his magnificent white moustache. Haresh, who had stood up, said:

'No indeed, Dr Durrani, it's you we've come to see. I don't know if you remember me - we met at Sunil's party.

'Sunil ?' said Dr Durrani, his eyes scrunched up in utter perplexity, his eyebrows working up and down. 'Sunil ... Sunil ...' He seemed to be weighing something up with great seriousness, and coming closer and closer to a conclusion. 'Patwardhan,' he said, with the air of having arrived at a considerable insight. He appraised this new premise from several angles in silence.

Haresh decided to speed up the process. He said, rather briskly :

'Dr Durrani, you said that we could drop in to see you. This is my young friend Bhaskar, whom I told you about. I

300think his interest in mathematics is remarkable, and I felt he should meet you.'

Dr Durrani looked quite pleased, and asked Bhaskar what two plus two was.