The obstructed flow of Burjor's persuasion continues, ‘. . . so Feroze dikra, what I’m saying is, we’ll find you a strapping young Parsi woman. Marry her. You’ll get home-made dhanshak. You two can make a dozen dikra–dikris. In return I will marry Meher and see what I can do. Is that a deal?’

Feroze's smile is intact, but he moves his hand and says, ‘No.’ His hand is almost transparent. His eyes are the colour of honey. They shine with amusement.

‘You think this one will ever marry?’ says Soonu. ‘You need to say at least four words for that: “Will you marry me?”’

‘Sad. That's how the Parsi man is.’ Burjor drops his shoulders dramatically. ‘Women are no better. Won’t marry. Why? Because they want independent flats. No living with boy's parents. Independent flat in Mumbai equals two digit lakhs, sixty–forty white and black. Not everyone is Tata or Godrej. No flat, no marriage. So where will children come from? The sky?’

Jijabhau signals that the table is laid. They rise like a flock of cranes and settle at the table. There is silence after that except for the sound of eating. It is only when the Parsi Dairy Farm kulfi is polished off that Shireen says, ‘Burjor, ave ainyathi siddhu Meher paase jaeene propose to her. Then go home. You aren’t a Tata–Godrej but you have a flat.’

‘Done. But on one condition. That you’ll let me tell a Tata joke.’

Everybody groans. The catch with Burjor's jokes is that he forgets the punchline. Listeners remain suspended between anticipation and laughter till they realize it's not coming. But today, Burjor won’t be dissuaded because he thinks he's got a really good one. A deal is struck. He gets to tell his joke and takes Shireen as witness to the proposal. She could also give a helping hand if Meher faints. There's another condition. The minute he realizes he's forgotten the punchline, he must raise his hand and release the listeners from suspense.

Burjor moves forward in his chair to tell his joke. This dislodges Feroze's glass on the right and Najoo's plate on the left. The glass is empty but the plate upturns its load of chicken bones into Najoo's lap. With a resigned sigh, Najoo returns the plate to its place, gathers up the bones in her napkin and places the whole mess back on the plate. This operation over, Burjor clears his throat and begins.