Jai said it with all the emphasis he could muster, so that his father knew full well just how treacherous a path it was that they were treading. Rajan looked rather taken aback.

‘You’ve been meeting Pakistanis, Ma?’

‘Well, I think they’re quite all right. In fact, we’ve all been invited by them to an art show this Friday at the Aicon Gallery,’ said Toshi. ‘The girl’s grandfather is an artist, and he said there will be art by leading Indian and Pakistani artists on display.’

Rajan’s brows knitted together, as they tended to do when an idea didn’t find favour.

‘I think Arathi was planning a visit to the Sherlock Holmes museum on Baker Street on Friday, Ma,’ he said. ‘But we can drop you off and pick you up after, if you like?’

Toshi turned to Jai. ‘You’re not keen on Sherlock Holmes. Would you like to come with me, Jai?’

‘There’s nothing I would like less, Badi Ma,’ said Jai, picturing Inaya peeping out from behind every piece of artwork, doing her jarringly hideous hyena imitation.

Acrylics and Oils

The art show was an incredibly pompous affair where the glitterati rubbed shoulders with the literati—sipping cocktails and commenting on how deeply moved they were by the ideological pathos of the acrylics and oils.

Toshi almost regretted having come. It was quite unlike her to take up an invitation like this, but the prospect of perhaps seeing Rawalpindi again, even if it was through an artist’s eyes and not in person, had been the clincher.

The only problem was that since the cityscapes were mostly done in the style of abstract art, none of the paintings looked remotely like the Rawalpindi she remembered. To make matters worse, Toshi had already mistaken an art installation for a fire extinguisher and had proceeded to have an excruciatingly embarrassing conversation about it with the artist herself, so her agenda now was to simply blend into the background and wait until Rajan picked her up.

As she reached the far end of the hall, Toshi decided to park herself in front of the paintings there, given that it was comparatively less busy than the other sections of the gallery. There was only one couple stationed there—and they nodded rapturously as Toshi approached them.

‘This is such an enigmatic interpretation of life, isn’t it?’ said the lady, indicating a display. ‘I can see the whole universe in here.’

Toshi saw nothing of the sort, nevertheless she nodded politely. The painting was another of the abstract kind. To Toshi, it merely looked like six circles, piled one on top of the other, with a line running through them. Yet, as she looked at it, she had to concede that there was something about it that seemed to draw her in. Toshi leaned in for a closer look at the painting, hoping to make some sense of it, when someone touched her lightly on her shoulder. She turned around to see Habib.

‘It was very good of you to come,’ he said.