‘He is a bit of a rascal,’ admitted Sher Singh.

‘You are telling me! He’s a big rascal. The way he looked at me! My God, it made me feel as if I had no clothes on. He had his eyes fixed on my breasts all the time. I couldn’t look up.’

Sher Singh knew what the turn of conversation to sexual matters before bedtime meant. ‘I don’t bother about his morals. I like men who have courage and daring, and he has both.’

‘He certainly has daring; I can tell you that after one meeting. I think your mother is quite right in sending someone to keep an eye on Beena—particularly when it is obvious to everyone how she feels about him.’

‘Oh, I am hot,’ said Sher Singh trying to change the conversation. ‘Why can’t we sleep out in the courtyard now that the rest of the family sleeps on the roof? It would be much cooler. Even Dyer refuses to stay with me at night.’

‘What privacy is there in the courtyard? They can see everything from the roof. There is also that not-so-little Mundoo of yours who sleeps in the courtyard these days. I don’t think he likes being on the roof of the servants’ quarters next to Shunno.’ There seemed no way of stopping Champak from giving a slant to the conversation.

‘This heat is terrible,’ he grumbled, taking off his vest. ‘I feel so sleepy.’ he yawned to prove what he said.

‘Just take your clothes off; they make you hot. I am going to strip myself. Have you bolted the door?’

Sher Singh bolted the door. He went into the bathroom to pour tumblers of cool water on his hot, sweaty body and went to bed. Fifteen minutes later he went back to the bathroom to wash himself.

A late moon rose over the line of trees and the day’s heat was slowly wafted away by a cool breeze. Buta Singh, Sabhrai, and Beena had their charpoys on the roof. The father and daughter were asleep; Sabhrai sat cross-legged on her bed saying her bed-time prayer. The sound of footsteps coming up distracted her attention. Dyer began to growl but as the steps came closer he recognized them and began to wag his tail. Shunno heaved herself up the stairs invoking the assistance of the Guru at each step. She sat down on her haunches beside Sabhrai’s bed and began to press her mistress’s legs. Sabhrai finished her prayer, made her obeisance, and spoke to the maid-servant in an undertone, ‘Where have you been all day? I went to look for you in the servants’ quarters in the morning and afternoon.’

‘Don’t ask me anything,’ moaned Shunno. ‘It was written in my kismet.’ She slapped her forehead and sighed. ‘Stretch your legs, I can press them better.’

‘What is the matter with you?’ asked Sabhrai lying down and stretching her legs.

‘Hai, Hai, Hai. Ho, Ho, Ho,’ wailed Shunno. ‘It would be better if you didn’t ask. I have died of shame.’