‘Everyone is asleep,’ said Shunno to reassure her mistress.

‘I thought Beena was stirring,’ whispered Sabhrai to indicate that she knew what was on Shunno’s mind.

‘Beena Bibi, are you asleep?’

There was no answer.

‘No, she must be asleep. It is long after midnight,’ assured Shunno. After a few minutes, she spoke again.

‘Bibiji.’

Sabhrai mumbled inaudibly.

‘Bibiji, are you feeling sleepy?’

‘No.’

‘Bibiji,’ continued Shunno in low tones ‘One shouldn’t say such things, but . . .’

‘But what?’

‘If you don’t take it ill, this house our Bibi Beena has started going to, the one with those hairless Hindus, is not a very good one.’

‘Bus, bus, enough! You know nothing about them.’

‘I am just telling you what I have heard, it is my duty. If something happens don’t blame me for not telling you what people say.’

‘What do they say?’

‘The son is said to have bad habits. One hears he spends his time playing cricket and going to cinemas. He has other habits too . . . . One hears his wife is very unhappy.’

‘Bus, bus! You are always slandering people . . . . Who told you?’

‘Who told me? All the world knows.’

‘Accha, accha! Go to sleep and don’t gossip.’

‘Whatever I say is gossip,’ grumbled Shunno. ‘As you wish! Sat Sri Akal.’

‘Sat Sri Akal.’

Shunno heaved herself up and went down the stairs praising the Guru.

Sabhrai sat up in the bed once more and repeated the prayer for the night to wipe out the effect of Shunno’s words. She, too, had heard stories of Wazir Chand’s son. But Sher had made friends with him and Beena almost worshipped his sister, Sita. And Wazir Chand was a colleague of Buta Singh. Sabhrai did not know what she could do without upsetting the rest of her family. She had infinite faith in the Guru and was sure of His special interest in her husband and children. He had helped her husband to rise to the position of senior magistrate. He would no doubt get her Sher to settle down to a steady occupation and find Beena a nice husband, not necessarily rich, just well off, but a good Sikh with his hair and beard unshorn. That was not too much to ask or hope for. Sabhrai shut her eyes and invoked His blessings for her family with all the fervour she could command.

‘These English are funny.’

It was not usual for Buta Singh to be in good temper at breakfast. ‘Bhai, yesterday was great fun,’ said he, making a second attempt to interest his family. When no one asked him why, he continued of his own accord. ‘These English, they don’t know anything about our customs. Yesterday the Deputy Commissioner offered me a cigarette. I said, “Sahib, today you have done this and I do not mind because we are old friends, but don’t do it again.” Then he started apologizing.’