‘Ummm, ummm. Little darling wants to wear Papa’s shoes. Namaste Bhraji.’

‘Sat Sri Akal,’ replied Madan without getting up or removing the cigarette from his lips.

Beena hugged the child and wheeled him round and round; her pigtails flew in the air. The child began to whimper. She thrust him into his father’s lap. ‘He likes you more than he likes me. Bhraji, where is Sita and Lila sister and Auntie and Uncle?’

‘Father has gone to see the Deputy Commissioner. Mother is in the kitchen. Sita is studying. Lila is in her room; she is not feeling too well. And yours sincerely is at your service.’ Madan got up and bowed.

Beena ignored his pleasantry. ‘Hai! What’s wrong with Lila sister?’ she asked with exaggerated concern; she frequently used ‘hai’ to express it. ‘Nothing serious, I hope. I must go and see her.’

‘No, no, it’s nothing, really nothing. Just a little out of condition,’ answered Madan. ‘She is in her room.’

Beena picked up the child once more and hurried to Lila’s room, Lila explained that she was not really ill; the feeling of nausea came on only in the mornings. When Beena persisted in her inquiries, Lila patted the back of her hand and said she would understand better when she was married. Beena understood and blushed with embarrassment. She sat with Lila till Sita came to take her away. ‘Madan says he can take us to a matinee show this afternoon. We can work for two or three hours and go with him. Lilaji, you will be all right by the afternoon, won’t you?’

‘I’d better not go. The stuffy atmosphere of the cinema will make me sick and your brother will get cross with me. You two go with him.’

Beena had a twinge of conscience. Studies were considered sacred enough to excuse going to the temple. But in her home the cinema was still associated vaguely with sin. The only time the family went to the pictures was to see the life of some saint or other or some story with a religious theme. Regular cinema goers were contemptuously described as tamasha-lovers. If her mother learned that she had spent the afternoon at a cinema instead of the temple, she would use it as an excuse to stop her coming to Sita’s house. ‘No, I really could not. I haven’t asked my mother,’ said Beena quickly.

‘She would not object if you came with us. I am sure she would not,’ assured Sita.

‘And yours sincerely is not going to invite you every day,’ added Madan in his half-baked stage manner as he came in. ‘Besides we won’t tell anyone. We will go in when the show has started and you can cover your face during the intermission.’ He drew his hand across his face to imitate a woman drawing her veil.