'Has Government taken any such steps in similar situations in the past?'

'It has.'

'What are those steps that have been taken?'

'Such steps as were considered reasonable and proper.'

Begum Abida Khan looked at him as she would at a snake, wounded but still evading the final blow by twisting its head from side to side. Well, she was not done with him yet.

'Will the honourable Minister name the wards or neighbourhoods in which restrictions have now been placed with regard to the possession of cold steel? Have these restrictions been placed as the result of the recent firing? If so, why were they not placed earlier?'

The Home Minister looked at the pipal tree in the great seal, and said :

'Government presumes that the honourable member means by the phrase "cold steel" objects such as swords, daggers, axes, and similar weapons.'

'Household knives have also been wrested by the police from housewives,' said Begum Abida Khan in more of a jeer than a statement. 'Well, what are the neighbourhoods ?'

'Chowk, Hazrat Mahal, and Captainganj,' said L.N. Agarwal.

'Not Misri Mandi?'

'No.'

'Although that was the site of the heaviest police presence?' persisted Begum Abida Khan.

'Police had to be shifted in large numbers to the real trouble spots-' began L.N. Agarwal.

347He stopped abruptly, realizing too late how he had exposed himself by what he had started to say.

'So the honourable Minister admits -' began Begum Abida Khan, her eyes gleaming triumphantly.

'The Government admits nothing. The report will detail everything,' said the Home Minister, appalledby the confession she had elicited from him.

Begum Abida Khan smiled contemptuously, and decided that the reactionary, trigger-happy, anti- Muslim bully had just condemned himself out of his own mouth sufficiently for much further skewering to be productive. She let her questions taper away.

'Why were these restrictions on cold steel imposed?'

'In order to prevent crimes and incidents of violence.'

'Incidents?'

'Such as riots by inflamed mobs,' he cried out in weary rage.

'How long will these restrictions continue?' asked Begum Abida Khan, almost laughing.

'Till they are withdrawn.'

'And when does the Government propose to withdraw these restrictions?'

'As soon as the situation permits.'

Begum Abida Khan gently sat down.

There followed a notice for adjournment of the House in order to discuss the issue of the firing, but the Speaker disposed of this quickly enough. Adjournment motions were only granted in the most exceptional cases of crisis or emergency, where discussion could brook no delay; to grant them or not was in the Speaker's absolute discretion. The subject of the police firing, even had it been such a subject - which, to his mind, it was not - had been sufficiently aired already. The questions of that remarkable, almost unreinable woman had virtually become a debate.

The Speaker went on to the next items on the day's business : first, the announcement of bills passed by the state legislature that had received the assent of the Governor of the state or the President of India; next, the most

348important matter on the agenda for the entire session : the continuing debate on the Zamindari Abolition Bill.

But L.N. Agarwal did not stay to listen to discussions on the bill. As soon as the notice for an adjournment motion had been rejected by the Speaker, he fled - not directly across the well to the exit but along an aisle to the perimeter gallery, and then along the dark, wood-panelled wall. His tension and animus were palpable in the way he walked. He was unconsciously crushing his order papers in his hand. Several members tried to talk to him, to sympathize with him. He brushed them off. He walked unseeingly to the exit, and made straight for the bathroom.

5.8

L.N. AGARWAL undid the draw-string of his pyjamas and stood at the urinal. But he was so angry that he was unable to urinate for a while.

He stared at the long, white-tiled wall and saw in it an image of the packed chamber, the taunting face of Begum Abida Khan, the furrowed academic expression of Abdus Salaam, Mahesh Kapoor's uninterpretable frown, the patient but condescending look on the face of the Chief Minister as he had fumbled pathetically through the poisonous swamp of Question Time.

There was no one in the lavatory except a couple of sweepers, and they were talking to each other. A few words of their conversation broke in upon L.N. Agarwal's fury. They were complaining about the difficulties of obtaining grain even at the government ration shops. They talked casually, not paying any attention to the powerful Home Minister and very little attention to their own work. As they continued to talk, a feeling of unreality descended upon L.N. Agarwal. He was taken out of his own world, his own passions, ambitions, hatreds and ideals into a realization of the continuing and urgent lives of people other than himself. He even felt a little ashamed of himself.

349The sweepers were now discussing a movie that one of them had seen. It happened to be Deedar.

'But it was Daleep Kumar's role - oh - it brought tears to my eyes - he always has that quiet smile on his lips even when singing the saddest songs - such a good-natured man - blind himself, and yet giving pleasure to the whole world -'

He began humming one of the hit songs from the movie - 'Do not forget the days of childhood '

The second man, who had not seen the movie yet, joined in the song - which, ever since the film had been released, was on almost everyone's lips.

He now said : 'Nargis looked so beautiful on the poster I thought I would see the movie last night, but my wife takes my money from me as soon as I get my pay.'

The first man laughed. 'If she let you keep the money, all she would see of it would be empty envelopes and empty bottles.'

The second man continued wistfully, trying to conjure up the divine images of his heroine. 'So, tell me, what was she like? How did she act? What a contrast - that cheap dancing girl Nimmi or Pimmi or whatever her name is and Nargis - so high-class, so delicate.'

The first man grunted. 'Give me Nimmi any day, I'd rather live with her than with Nargis - Nargis is too thin, too full of herself. Anyway, what's the difference in class between them? She was also one of those.'

The second man looked shocked. 'Nargis?'

'Yes, yes, your Nargis. How do you think she got her first chance in the movies?' And he laughed and began to hum to himself again. The other man was silent and began to scrub the floor once more.

L.N. Agarwal's thoughts, as he listened to the sweepers talking, turned from Nargis to another 'one of those' Saeeda Bai - and to the now commonplace gossip about her relationship with Mahesh Kapoor's son. Good! he thought. Mahesh Kapoor may starch his delicately embroidered kurtas into rigidity, but his son lies at the feet of prostitutes.

350Though less possessed by rage, he had once again entered his own familiar world of politics and rivalry. He walked along the curved corridor that led to his room. He knew, however, that as soon as he entered his office, he would be set upon by his anxious supporters. What little calm he had achieved in the last few minutes would be destroyed.

'No - I'll go to the library instead,' he muttered to himself.

Upstairs, in the cool, quiet precincts of the library of the Legislative Assembly, he sat down, took off his cap, and rested his chin on his hands. A couple of other MLAs were sitting and reading at the long wooden tables. They looked up, greeted him, and continued with their work. L.N. Agarwal closed his eyes and tried to make his mind blank. He needed to establish his equanimity again before he faced the legislators below. But the image that came before him was not the blank nothingness he sought, but the spurious blankness of the urinal wall. His thoughts turned to the virulent Begum Abida Khan once more, and once more he had to fight down his rage and humiliation. How little there was in common between this shameless, exhibitionistic woman who smoked in private and screeched in public, who had not even followed her husband when he had left for Pakistan but had immodestly and spouselessly remained in Purva Pradesh to make trouble - and his own late wife, Priya's mother, who had sweetened his life through her years of selfless care and love.

I wonder if some part of Baitar House could be construed as evacuee property now that that woman's husband is living in Pakistan, thought L.N. Agarwal. A word to the Custodian, an order to the police, and let's see what I am able to do.

After ten minutes of thought, he got up, nodded at the two MLAs, and went downstairs to his room.