asked Firoz half.3 if lsnt gating you marri^ a , of nonsense- Tm ging down- At)ta will be wondering

'Well, the buff Sy e" a smile andTfro " Ci where n earth we've g0t tO" And s wil1 your father' And

disconsolatelv "w" Zne disaPpeared tonight ^"'-j ! besides, we ought to find out if your brother is formally

'No, no thank Vean0ther" * * ** married yet - and whether you really do now have a

enjoyed his d ^ u St'^ ^ave Plenty ' said P' * l beautiful sister-in-law to scold you and curb your

father would with a lightly e,,i]fv /"?' F'ro: excesses-'

the happy hourTi!"0^611 Jess than Maan? t ^ h'i 'M riht' a11 ri8ht' we'U a11 8 down" said Maan

'God knows j ' 3 d uncertainly. when genially. 'Maybe some of the bees will cling to us too. And

'At the firs/r ujS- 3t the enquiry stage ' said )U I if we get stung to the heart, Doctor Sahib here can cure us.

For some teas' Imt'aZ added' ' "' I Cant yU' Imtiaz? A11 yu would have to do would be to

readingF he ren3501!} ^"s de^ghted Maan 'A f, I app'y a rose"Peta"to r^e wound isn't that so ?' third reading i A j' '^ell, let's hope it n^ ^rsl 'As 'ong as t^lere are no contra-indications,' said Imtiaz

withholds his ass r' ^ 'f if do"' that th" ? tO thl seriouslyHe laueheH ss^nt- e * resident 'No centra- indications,' said Maan, laughing as he led

,k~,... .._ e 3nd took a Connie f !_.. . I thr wav Hnwn fbp stairs

: plenty,' slightly ;

aid Maai

id Firoz. FirV

-^-^ .nu rook a couple of long swigs. 'And what! about your marriage ?' he demanded of Firoz. I Firoz looked a little evasively around the room. It was asl bare and functional as most of the rooms in Prem Nivas -1 which looked as if they expected the imminent arrival of a I herd of constituents. 'My marriage !' he said with a laugh. I Maan nodded vigorously. M

'Change the subject,' said Firoz.

'Why, if you were to go into the garden instead of* drinking here in seclusion -' I

'It's hardly seclusion.'

'Don't interrupt,' said Maan, throwing an arm around f him. 'If you were to go down into the garden, a good- looking, elegant fellow like you, you would be surrounded within seconds by eligible young beauties. And ineligible I ones too. They'd cling to you like bees to a lotus. Curly I Jocks, curly locks, will you be mine ?' '

Firoz flushed. 'You've got rhf ~:~-:t-

c-j.VI ''

_ ...v,, uccs to a lotus. Curly .vo, vuny locks, will you be mine ?'

Firoz flushed. 'You've got the simile slightly wrong,' he said. 'Men are bees, women lotuses.' Maan quoted a couplet from an Urdu ghazal to the

"'en lotuses a couplet from a

2.6

besides, we ought to find out if your brother is formally married yet - and whether you really do now have a beautiful sister-in-law to scold you and curb your excesses.'

'All right, all right, we'll all go down,' said Maan genially. 'Maybe some of the bees will cling to us too. And if we get stung to the heart, Doctor Sahib here can cure us. Can't you, Imtiaz ? All you would have to do would be to apply a rose-petal to the wound, isn't that so ?'

'As long as there are no contra-indications,' said Imtiaz seriously.

'No contra-indications,' said Maan, laughing as he led the way down the stairs.

'You may laugh,' said Imtiaz. 'But some people are allergic even to rose-petals. Talking of which, you have one sticking to your cap.'

'Do I ?' asked Maan. 'These things float down from nowhere.'

'So they do,' said Firoz, who v/as walking down just behind him. He gently brushed it away.

1.8

BECAUSE the Nawab Sahib had been looking somewhat lost without his sons, Mahesh Kapoor's daughter Veena had drawn him into her family circle. She asked him about his eldest child, his daughter Zainab, who was a childhood friend of hers but who, after her marriage, had disappeared into the world of purdah. The old man talked about her rather guardedly, but about her two children with transparent delight. His grandchildren were the only two beings in the world who had the right to interrupt him when heI

was studying in his library. But now the great yellcr,

ancestral mansion of Baitar House, just a few minuta

walk from Prem Ni vas, was somewhat run dowrfclind tli

library too had suffered. 'Silverfish, you know,' "said tlj

Nawab Sahib. 'And I need help with cataloguing. It's f

gigantic task, and in some ways not very heartening. Son

of the early editions of Ghalib can't be traced now; an

some valuable manuscripts by our own poet Mast. M.

brother never made a list of what he took with him*%

Pakistan ' j

At the word Pakistan, Veena's mother-in-law, withered old Mrs Tandon, flinched. Three years ago, her wholi family had had to flee the blood and flames and unforgettable terror of Lahore. They had been wealthy, 'propertied people, but almost everything they had owned was lost and they had been lucky to escape with their lives. Her son Kedarnath, Veena's husband, still had scars on his hands from an attack by rioters on his refugee convoy. Several of their friends had been butchered. .

The young, old Mrs Tandon thought bitterly, are veryj resilient: her grandchild Bhaskar had of course only been! six at the time; but even Veena and Kedarnath had not let* those events embitter their lives. They had returned here to Veena's hometown, and Kedarnath had set himself up in a small way in - of all polluting, carcass-tainted things - the shoe trade. For old Mrs Tandon, the descent from a decent prosperity could not have been more painful. She had been f willing to tolerate talking to the Nawab Sahib though he was a Muslim, but when he mentioned comings and goings from Pakistan, it was too much for her imagination. She felt ill. The pleasant chatter of the garden in Brahmpur was amplified into the cries of the blood-mad mobs on the streets of Lahore, the lights into fire. Daily, sometimes hourly, in her imagination she returned to what she still thought of as her city and her home. It had been beautiful before it had become so suddenly hideous ; it had appeared completely secure so shortly before it was lost for ever.

The Nawab Sahib did not notice that anything was the matter, but Veena did, and quickly changed the subject I