‘What is the matter?’ asked Sabhrai impatiently.

‘Bibiji, I am so ashamed, I can’t even talk.’ Shunno explained her ailment at length.

‘How old are you?’

‘I don’t know; between forty-five and fifty-five.’

‘It may be more serious than you think! Bleeding at this age can be dangerous. Did you go to a doctor?’

‘It is all right. If it is written that I have to die, I will die.’

‘Have you been to a doctor?’

‘What do doctors know? Only God knows. I went to the Peer Sahib. He has some miraculous prescriptions which his ancestors have left him. Many women, who had remained barren for years and whose husbands threatened to take other wives, have been cured by Peer Sahib. He is a magician—a divine magician. Sometimes he writes verses from the Quran Sharif and makes people swallow the paper; sometimes he just blows magic formulas in their ears. There is a big crowd there every day—Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs—everyone. I had to wait till I got a chance to speak to him alone. You can’t mention such things before others, can you, Bibiji?’

‘Did he give you a magic potion?’ asked Sabhrai, sarcastically.

‘No, Bibiji, he said he couldn’t find out the trouble by feeling my pulse. He has asked me to come another day when there is no one and he can examine me carefully.’

‘Won’t you be ashamed showing yourself to a Muslim rascal?’ hissed Sabhrai.

‘Na, na,’ protested Shunno. ‘Don’t use such words for him; he is a man of God. He doesn’t charge any fee.’

‘Go to sleep. I don’t want any pressing.’

Shunno took no notice of her mistress’s temper and went on pressing. After a while she started again. ‘We have heard other things today.’

‘Bus, bus, it seems you can’t digest your food without slandering people.’

‘As you wish. Don’t be angry with me later on for not having warned you in time.’

The mistress relented. After waiting some time for Shunno to continue, she lost patience and asked meekly, ‘What is it?

‘Don’t blame me! We have heard that Wazir Chand’s son’s wife has gone away to her mother’s.’

‘She is going to have a baby. What is so important about her going to her mother’s to have it?’

‘We have heard that she has been turned out; she was old-fashioned.’

Sabhrai made no rejoinder. She had also heard from someone else that Madan had been describing his wife as illiterate.

‘Our Beena is growing up fast,’ continued the maid-servant after a significant pause.

‘What’s that to you?’ snapped Sabhrai; she knew what it was leading up to.

‘It is not good to keep a young girl at home. It is time we thought of her marriage. If you find a nice Sikh boy . . .’

‘You find one and then talk.’

Shunno realized that any talk about Beena would only lead to a snub, so she changed the subject. ‘Our queen, our daughter-in-law, is idle all day.’