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.’

The family took Buta Singh’s stories of his candour with English officials with a pinch of salt. ‘Did you tell him that Baisakhi is a big day for us and he should not ask people to be on duty?’ asked his wife fanning flies away with a hand towel.

‘He apologized himself. He said since I was the only one who really knew the people in the city, he had to rely on me. He also tried to bribe me with promise of a title. I said, “Sahib, you keep your titles. I don’t care for such things.”’

‘Sardarji,’ said Shunno chiming in, ‘there is a policeman with a bayonet at our gate since the morning.’

‘ Oh yes, I had almost forgotten that part of Mr Taylor’s orders,’ said Buta Singh in a lordly way. ‘The seniormost official in the district is to have a sort of decorative guard outside his house just like the one outside the Deputy Commissioner’s. I don’t think the other magistrates will like that.’

‘It will hurt their eyes,’ commented Sher Singh expanding with filial pride.

Buta Singh suddenly realized that his daughter had spent the whole of the day before at Wazir Chand’s. ‘How are you getting on with the preparations for your exams?’