People, when they are left alone, find that they cannot help behaving in an odd way. This is strange because one would expect those who do everything under public gaze to be less inhibited, and therefore have less to get out of their systems than those who enjoy privacy. However, the one desire which those who live in crowds have to suppress is that of self-discovery. This is suddenly aroused in momentary solitude and is expressed in acts which appear quite mad. Thus a man, normally sober and steady, who finds himself alone in a railway compartment, may get the urge to sing loudly, expose himself, or even indulge in adolescent pastimes. He will continue to behave oddly till he gets used to the idea of being alone.

Buta Singh’s home had made some concessions to Western notions in the matter of privacy. There were separate bedrooms for everyone with the married couple having a bathroom of their own. Champak spent as much time as she could in her own room with her radio. She was also given to taking a long time at her bath. On religious holidays, because everyone went out, she stayed at home. She could then stroll about the courtyard in her dressing gown with her hair loose about her shoulders, and she could also sing loudly to herself.

On Baisakhi day Sabhrai had ordered Mundoo to stay at home to scrub kitchen utensils and heat the water for Champak’s bath. Champak protested there was no need for hot water, but her mother-in-law had her way. ‘Hair washes better with hot water,’ she had insisted.

Champak sulked in her room. She switched on the radio and lay on her bed reading her favourite film magazine. After some time, she flung the magazine on the floor and looked out into the courtyard. Mundoo sat on his haunches scrubbing a big brass pitcher with ash. Beside him, on a smoking hearth, was a large tin canister.

‘Oi Mundoo, is the water hot or not?’

The boy patted the canister with his dirty hands. ‘No, Bibiji, not yet. It will be ready in a few minutes.’

He went down on his hands and knees and blew into the hearth. Smoke and ash whirled round the hearth and into his eyes. He stood up and wiped his tears with the hem of his greasy shirt. All he wore besides the shirt was a red loin cloth which only covered his front. His buttocks were bare except for the string which ran between them.

‘Bring it into the bathroom when it is ready.’

Champak got up, opened her wardrobe, fished out a shaving set hidden in the folds of her saris and went into the bathroom. She did not close either the door behind her or the other one which opened into the courtyard. Mundoo was not going to restrict her movements. He was just a servant and a grubby little boy at that. She decided to ignore his presence.