Beena opened her eyes as Sabhrai’s soft hand touched her forehead. Sabhrai sat down beside the pillow and took her daughter’s head in her lap. Beena clutched her mother by the waist and burst into tears. Sabhrai began to chant:

‘The True, The True

The Great Guru.’

The mother pressed her daughter’s head as she chanted. The girl cried, sobbed, sighed, and then fell silent.

‘You have no fever?’

Beena shook her head.

‘When did you catch the cold?’

‘Night before last. We were all drenched.’

‘The True, The True

The Great Guru.’

Sabhrai was still with her daughter when Madan and the two girls returned. She heard the servant tell them of her arrival and Madan’s loud guffaw, ‘Wah ji wah! It is our good kismet that has brought auntie to our home. Where is she?’

‘I will get news of my Sardarji,’ added Champak jovially. ‘He is such a bad correspondent.’

The three came into the bedroom, led by Madan. They bowed to her to receive her blessings.

‘Auntie, you did not write about your coming: I would have come to receive you at the taxi stand.’

‘No, son, it was only yesterday that I decided to leave; there was no time to write a letter. And I do not like sending telegrams.’

They sat down on Beena’s bed. ‘First tell me the news of my Sardarji. Why didn’t you bring him with you? I don’t like it here without him. Now you have come, I can go back,’ said Champak.

‘Everyone is well. Sherji is very busy with whatever he is doing. He leaves early morning and seldom turns up for dinner.’

‘He’s got into the rut of leadership,’ explained Madan. ‘It is very demanding, but it will take him far, very far.’

Sabhrai changed the subject abruptly. ‘Madanji, have you good news of your wife?’

‘It is quite some time since she wrote,’ he replied without any hesitation, ‘but you know what girls are when they are with their mothers! All must be well otherwise I would have certainly heard.’ He did not let Sabhrai pursue the subject further. ‘Auntie, we must celebrate your arrival. I will take you all to Davicos for tea. They have a European band and all the world turns up. It will do Beena good; fresh air is good for a cold.’

Beena waved her hand to say no.

‘I think I will stay with Beena,’ said Sabhrai.

‘Bibiji, you go, I will stay with her,’ insisted Champak.

‘No, no, no,’ protested Beena angrily, ‘I don’t want anyone to stay with me. I have no fever. I will sit out in the garden in the sun. I don’t want to meet people; I can hardly talk. My nose is clogged.’