A Fine Balance Page 6

  “Those are all gone bad,” said Rustom. “I’ve been meaning to sell them for scrap. Tomorrow, I promise.”

  “Don’t be silly, these are solid old things. They can be repaired and tinned. Nowadays you can’t buy such quality.”

  The next time a tinker yelled outside their window, she called him to fix the leaking vessels and rivet the broken handle of the kettle. She watched to make sure he did the work properly. As he finished each pot, she took it to the bathroom and tested it with water.

  The knife-grinder went by with his wheel slung over his shoulder. The tinker stopped hammering while she clapped twice to get his attention.

  The dull blades soon began glinting with sharp edges. She relished the energy, the attention, the pounding and banging that went into getting her household shipshape for decades of wedded bliss with Rustom. A lifetime had to be crafted, just like anything else, she thought, it had to be moulded and beaten and burnished in order to get the most out of it.

  The knife-grinder averted his face as sparks flew from the spinning grindstone. Like Divali fireworks, she thought, while the tinker’s hammer blows rang gaily in her ears.

  Dina and Rustom celebrated their first wedding anniversary by going to the cinema and dining out. They saw Submarine Command, starring William Holden, who played an American naval commander in Korea. They held hands during the film and, afterwards, ate chicken biryani at the Wayside Inn.

  The following year Dina wanted to see something less grim. So they picked Bing Crosby’s High Society, a brand-new release. She had bought a new frock for the occasion, blue, with a vivacious peplum that came alive with walking.

  “I don’t know if you should wear that,” said Rustom, coming up behind her and stroking her hips.

  “Why?” she smiled, wiggling to tease him.

  “You’ll drive the men wild in the streets. Better carry your pointy pagoda parasol to protect yourself.”

  “Won’t you protect me, and fight them off?”

  “Okay. In that case, I’ll carry your spear. Better still, I’ll bring my violin – the screeching will scare them more.”

  They enjoyed the film immensely. The blue frock was their private joke all evening as they imagined envious women and lustful men thirsting to get their hands on it. For dinner they went to Mongini’s; the desserts there had a wonderful reputation.

  On their third anniversary, they decided to invite Nusswan, Ruby, and the children (there were two now) to dinner. Relations between them had been cordial since the wedding. Dina and Rustom were always asked to the children’s birthdays, and also on Navroze and Khordad Sal. Dina, sometimes alone, sometimes with Rustom, had taken to dropping in with sweets for her nephews, or just to say hello. The ill feelings had disappeared so completely that it was hard to remember them with any clarity. One was tempted to conclude that it had all been exaggerated by the imagination.

  The little anniversary party proceeded most amicably. Dina could not afford a new outfit, and wore last year’s blue frock. Ruby admired it, and praised Dina’s cooking. She said that the pulao-dal was really tasty. Dina replied graciously that she had learned a lot from her sister-in-law. “But I still have a long way to go before reaching your standards.”

  For the two boys, who were only six and three, Dina had cooked separately, without spices. But Xerxes and Zarir insisted on having what the adults were eating. Ruby allowed them a taste of it, and they wanted more despite their tongues hanging out.

  “Never mind,” said Dina, laughing, “the ice cream will put out the fire.”

  “Can I have it now?” chorused the children.

  “Rustom Uncle has yet to go and get it,” said Dina. “We don’t have an icebox like yours to store it. Here, have this for the time being,” and she popped sugar crystals in their mouths from the ceremonial tray of garlands and coconuts.

  Later, while she cleared the table with Ruby helping, Rustom decided it was time to go for the Kwality Family Pack. “In case they don’t have strawberry, which one – chocolate or vanilla?”

  “Chocolate,” said Xerxes.

  “Lanilla,” said Zarir, and everyone laughed.

  “Lanilla!” teased Rustom. “You always have to be different, don’t you?”

  “I wonder from where he got the trait,” said Nusswan. “Certainly not his father,” and they all laughed again. He seized the opportunity to add, “But what about you two, Rustom? Time to start a family, I think. Three years is long enough for a holiday.”

  Rustom only smiled, not wanting to encourage a discussion. He opened the door to leave, and Nusswan jumped up. “Shall I give you company?”

  “Oh no, just relax, you’re the guest. Besides, if we walk, it will take too long. Alone, I can go on my cycle, return in ten minutes.”

  Dina set out clean plates and spoons for the ice cream, and put the kettle on. “The tea should be nice and ready by the time he is back.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were still waiting. “Where can he be? The tea is getting so strong. Maybe you two should drink yours now.”

  “No, we’ll wait for Rustom,” said Ruby.

  “There must be a big rush or something at the ice-cream shop,” said Nusswan.

  Dina boiled a second kettleful to dilute the infusion. She returned the pot under the tea-cosy. “Forty-five minutes since he left.”

  “Maybe it was sold out at the first place,” said Nusswan. “Strawberry is very popular, always out of stock. Maybe he went somewhere else, further away.”

  “He wouldn’t, he knows I would worry.”

  “Maybe he got a puncture,” said Ruby.

  “Even walking back with a puncture would take only twenty minutes.”

  She went to the verandah to see if she could spot him pedalling in the distance. It reminded her of the nights when they would part after the concert recitals, and she would be on the upper deck of the bus, trying to keep his disappearing bicycle in sight.

  The memory made her smile, but it quickly faded under the present anxiety. “I think I’ll go and see what’s the matter.”

  “No, I’ll go,” offered Nusswan.

  “But you don’t know where the shop is, or the road Rustom would take. You might miss each other.”

  In the end they both went. Seeing how tense Dina was, he kept repeating, “Has to be a perfectly simple explanation.” She nodded, walking faster. He had to make an effort to keep up.

  It was after nine, and the streets were quiet. In the lane at the end of which stood the ice-cream shop, a knot of people had gathered by the footpath. As they got closer, Nusswan and Dina noticed that the police were also present.

  “Wonder what’s going on,” said Nusswan, trying to conceal his alarm.

  Dina was the first to spot the bicycle. “It’s Rustom’s,” she said. Her voice had turned into a stranger’s, sounding unfamiliar to her own ears.

  “Are you sure?” He knew she was. The bicycle was mangled but the saddle was whole. He pushed his way through the crowd towards the policemen. A roaring storm filled her ears, and their words reached her feebly, as though from a great distance.

  “A bastard lorry driver,” said the sub-inspector. “Hit and run. No chance for the poor man, I think. Head completely crushed. But ambulance has taken him to hospital anyway.”

  A stray dog lapped at the thick pink puddle near the bicycle. Strawberry ice cream was in stock, thought Dina numbly. A policeman kicked the sand-coloured mongrel. It yelped and retreated, then returned for more. When he kicked it again, she screamed.

  “Stop that! What harm is it doing to you? Let it eat!”

  Startled, the policeman said “Yes madam” and stepped back. The dog slurped hungrily, whimpering with pleasure while keeping a wary eye on the man’s foot.

  Nusswan obtained the name of the hospital. The sub-inspector took his address, and asked Dina, who was staring at the twisted bicycle, for hers. The bicycle would be retained as evidence for the time being – in case the lorry driver was found, he ex
plained gently. He offered to give them a lift to the hospital.

  “Thank you,” said Nusswan. “But they will be wondering at home what happened.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll send a constable to say not to worry, there’s been an accident and you are at the hospital,” said the sub-inspector. “Then you can explain everything later.”

  Thanks to the sub-inspector’s help, procedures were expedited at the hospital, and Nusswan and Dina were able to leave quickly. “Let’s take a taxi,” said Nusswan.

  “No, I want to walk.”

  By the time they reached home, the tears were silently streaming down her cheeks. Nusswan held her and stroked her head. “My poor sister,” he whispered. “My poor little sister. I wish I could bring him back for you. Cry now, it’s all right, cry all you need to.” He wept a little himself as he told Ruby about the accident, in whispers.

  “Oh God!” sobbed Ruby. “What is the meaning of such misfortune! In a few minutes, Dina’s whole world destroyed! How can it be? Why does He allow such things?” She composed herself before waking the children, while Dina went to change out of her blue frock.

  “Can we eat the strawberry ice cream now?” asked Xerxes and Zarir sleepily.

  “Rustom Uncle is not well, we have to go home,” said Ruby, deciding it was better to explain gradually.

  Dina soon emerged from her room, and Nusswan went to her side. “You must also come home with us, you cannot stay here alone.”

  “Of course, absolutely,” said Ruby, taking her hand and squeezing it.

  Nodding, Dina went to the kitchen and began making a package of the leftover pulao-dal. Ruby watched curiously, half-fearfully, before asking, “Can I help?”

  Dina shook her head. “No sense wasting this food. On our way home, we can give it to a beggar at the corner.”

  Later, Nusswan would say to whomever he was recounting the events that he was really impressed with the dignified way his sister had behaved on that cruel night. “No wailing, no beating the chest or tearing the hair like you might expect from a woman who had suffered such a shock, such a loss.” But he also remembered their mother’s dignity on a similar occasion, and the disintegration that had followed in its wake. He hoped Dina would not follow the same pattern.

  Dina packed her valise with a white sari and other things she would need for the next few days. It was the same one she had brought with her three years ago on her wedding night.

  After the funeral and four days of prayers, Dina prepared to return to her flat. “What’s the rush?” said Nusswan. “Stay here a little longer.”

  “Of course,” said Ruby. “Here you are with family. What will you do there all alone?”

  Dina wavered easily, for she did not feel ready to go back. The most difficult hours were the ones before dawn. She slept with one arm over a pillow. Sometimes she nudged the pillow lightly with her elbow, her signal to Rustom that she wanted his arm around her. When the human weight did not materialize, she awakened to emptiness, relearning the loss in the darkness before sunrise. Occasionally, she called out his name, and Ruby or Nusswan, if they heard her, came into the room and held her tight, stroking her hair.

  “It’s not as though you are going to be a burden on us by staying,” said Nusswan. “In fact, you will be company for Ruby.”

  So Dina stayed. Word got about that she was temporarily at her brother’s place, and a stream of relatives arrived on condolence visits. After the formal purpose of the call was dealt with, the conversation took on the hue of a genial get-together, and Nusswan and Ruby enjoyed the socializing. “It’s the best thing possible for Dina,” they agreed.

  Rustom’s Shirin Aunty and Darab Uncle had attended all four days of prayer at the Towers of Silence, but came again after a week. They sat for a while, had a glass of lemon cordial and said, “For us, it is like losing a son. But remember, you are still our daughter. If you ever need anything, you can come to us. Remember, anything at all.”

  Ruby overheard this and prickled. “That’s very kind of you. But we are here, Nusswan and I, to look after her.”

  “Yes, of course, thanks be to God,” said the elderly couple, taken aback by the sharpness in her voice. “May He give you both a long, healthy life. Dina is very fortunate to have you two.” They left shortly, hoping they had managed to salve Ruby’s feelings.

  A month passed, and Dina settled into her old routine, assuming her former place in the household. The servant was let go. Dina did not mind, it gave her something to do with her long, empty days. Xerxes and Zarir, of course, were thrilled to have Dina Aunty living with them. Xerxes was in the second standard and Zarir had just started kindergarten. She volunteered to take them to school; it would be easy, on her way to the bazaar in the mornings.

  On Sunday evenings Nusswan organized card games. The three adults played rummy for a couple of hours while the children watched. Sometimes Dina allowed Xerxes and Zarir to hold her cards. At seven, the women started dinner, and Nusswan amused himself by building a house of cards with the children or glancing over the Sunday newspaper a second time.

  Once a week Dina went to her empty flat to dust and clean. There she followed the exact habit of housework that she had developed when Rustom was alive. At the end of the cleaning she made tea. There in the privacy of the dingy kitchen she sat with her cup, remembering, sometimes crying softly, and the tea usually went cold. She often poured it away after drinking half a cup.

  After following this secret pattern of mourning for some weeks, she began allowing a part of herself to pretend everything was normal, the flat was occupied, the separation temporary. There didn’t seem to her any harm in it, and the make-believe was so comforting.

  Then one evening, as dusk was falling and the headlights of cars had started to come on, she caught herself gazing out from the verandah to see if Rustom’s bicycle was approaching. A shiver ran down her spine. She decided enough was enough. Flirting with madness was one thing; when madness started flirting back, it was time to call the whole thing off.

  She renounced the weekly cleaning ritual. If a visit to the flat was necessary, she preferred not to go alone, and took her little nephews with her. Xerxes and Zarir enjoyed exploring the unlived-in space. The familiar rooms suddenly seemed remote and mysterious, filled with furniture yet inexplicably empty. The museum-like stillness baffled them. They shouted and ran and skipped through the flat to see if they could banish the void.

  One afternoon, when Dina stopped by to pick up a few of her things, she found an envelope from the landlord. The children began organizing a cross-country race, for which Xerxes mapped out the route. “We will start from the verandah, and run all the way to the kitchen, then all the way to the wc, and then all the way back, going through all the rooms. Understood, Zarir?”

  “Okay,” said Zarir. Dina announced ready, get set, go. She opened the windows in the front room and read the letter. It stated that since the premises were no longer occupied, notice was hereby given for the flat to be emptied of its effects and the keys returned within thirty days.

  That night, when she showed the letter to Nusswan, he was livid. “Look at the shameless rascal of a landlord. Not even three months since poor Rustom passed away, and the snake is ready to strike. Nothing doing. You must keep the flat.”

  “Yes, I think I’ll go back there from next week,” she agreed.

  “That’s not what I meant. Stay here for a year, two years – as long as you like. But don’t give up your right. Mark my words, the time is not far-off when accommodation will be impossible to find in the city. An old flat like yours will be a gold mine.”

  “It’s true,” said Ruby. “I heard that Putli Maasi’s son had to pay a pugree of twenty thousand rupees just to get his foot in the door. And the rent is five hundred a month. His flat is even smaller than yours.”

  “Yes,” said Dina, “but my rent –”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pay it,” said Nusswan. “And my lawyer will reply to this letter.”


  He was thinking ahead: sooner or later Dina would remarry. At that juncture, it would be very unfortunate if the lack of a flat were to pose an impediment. He definitely would not want the couple living with him. That would be a blueprint for friction and strife.

  On Rustom’s first death anniversary, Nusswan took the morning off from work. The previous day, he had written notes to Xerxes’ school and Zarir’s kindergarten that they would be “absent in order to attend their late uncle’s prayers at the fire-temple.” Dina was grateful for the entire family’s presence.

  “Hard to imagine,” said Nusswan when they got back home, “a whole year has gone by. How time flies.”

  A few days later he formally signalled an end to the mourning period by inviting some friends to tea.

  Among them were Porus and Solly, two of the many eligible bachelors whom he had strenuously recommended to Dina a few years ago. The two were still single, and still quite eligible, according to Nusswan, if one were willing to forgive minor flaws like incipient potbellies and greying hair.

  Priding himself on his subtlety, he said to Dina in private, “You know, either Porus or Solly would jump at the chance to become your husband. Porus’s law practice is flourishing beyond belief. And Solly is now a full partner in the accounting firm. They would have no problem that you are a widow.”

  “How kind of them.”

  He did not like the sarcasm. It was a reminder of the old Dina – the stubborn, insolent, defiant sister, who he assumed had been transformed into a better person. But he swallowed and continued calmly.

  “You know, Dina, I am very impressed with you. No one can accuse you of being frivolous in mourning. You have acted so correctly, so perfectly, this whole year.”

  “I was not acting. And it was not difficult.”

  “I know, I know,” he said hastily, regretting his choice of words. “What I meant was, I admire your dignity. But the point is, you are still so young. It has been over a year, and you must think of your future.”