Mrs Taylor came in carrying the tea-tray. She poured out the tea and handed Buta Singh his cup. Buta Singh took a noisy sip and put away the tea. Now for the fifth. He pulled a long face to preface the subject. ‘Mrs Taylor, I want to seek your very kind advice on an important matter. I wish to erect a memorial for my late wife—a small library or a ward in a hospital or some such thing. I would be most grateful if you could advise me.’

‘How thoughtful of you, Sardar Sahib! I will be delighted to help. Since she was so religious perhaps she would have liked to have given something to a religious institution—like a temple. I believe having wells dug is also a very popular form of charity in this part of the world. You must have known her mind?’

‘You are right; she was very religious.’ Buta Singh pondered. He couldn’t possibly get Mr or Mrs Taylor to do anything with the building of a new Gurudwara or having a well dug in some village. The object of the charity would be lost. ‘You see she was illiterate,’ he repeated ‘If I had asked her, she would have said, “Anything you like.” That is why I ask you.’

‘If you like I can find out what is needed in the city; we are short of practically everything. I will certainly let you know.’

Buta Singh was very pleased. He had succeeded in drawing Mrs Taylor into his plans. Now he needed no appointments to come here nor would he have to sit with other magistrates in the verandah waiting his turn to see Taylor. The ‘Five Beloved Ones’ had been satisfactorily dealt with. He finished his tea and put aside the cup. ‘I must not waste your precious time,’ he said, getting up. ‘I will come and pay my respects again to you, Mrs Taylor. Goodbye, sir.’

‘Goodbye, Sardar Sahib. It is so nice to see you cheerful after such a long time.’

‘Thank you, madam. As a famous English poet has said, “All’s well that ends well.”’

Delhi

Dedication

I asked my soul: What is Delhi?

She replied: The world is the body and Delhi its life.

Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib

This novel which took me over 20 years to write I dedicate to my son Rahul Singh and his friend Niloufer Billimoria

Delhi

I return to Delhi as I return to my mistress Bhagmati when I have had my fill of whoring in foreign lands. Delhi and Bhagmati have a lot in common. Having been long misused by rough people they have learnt to conceal their seductive charms under a mask of repulsive ugliness. It is only to their lovers, among whom I count myself, that they reveal their true selves.