I decided to use the information at an appropriate moment. Meanwhile I became bolder in my compliments. Since she changed her hair-style every day I got many opportunities to say something that would please her. One day she dressed herself in a bright red sari. It did not suit her, nor did she know how a woman in a sari should walk—like most Caucasians she had a masculine stride. I said, ‘How charming,’ and she replied: ‘Oh, thank you, I thought you’d sort of like to see me in your native costume.’ I explained that the sari was not native to Punjab and that a salwar-kameez would look even nicer on her. ‘O great!’ she exclaimed. ‘I must have these thingees at once.’ I took her to a tailor and while she was choosing the material I told him in Punjabi to send the finished products with the bill to me. Georgine could not make up her mind. What she liked best she said was too expensive for her. So she settled for the second best. I spoke to the tailor (again in Punjabi) to use the material of her first choice.

‘You think it will look nice on me?’ she asked me when we were in the car.

‘I am sure it will. We have a word in our language jamazebi which means the ability to fit into any clothes. I think you will look nice in anything you wear.’ (Far from being jamazeb, because of her large bosom and broad hips she had difficulty fitting into readymade clothes). ‘You are nuts,’ she said dismissing the compliment. ‘I know none of the nice things you say are true, but I like you sayin’ them. So don’t stop, O—Kay?’

Getting her into my apartment was easy. Two days after she had been measured, I offered to drive her around in my own car. When I went to pick her up, I said, as casually as I could, ‘Your things have been delivered to my apartment. Would you like to pick them up before we go sightseenig?’

‘O—Kay.’

She looked around admiringly at my books and pictures. ‘Nice, comfy pad,’ she remarked.

‘Thank you. Do sit down.’

She took off her shoes, bounced onto the settee and crossed her legs. ‘Nunc! What you starin’ at?’

I quoted Ghalib, first in Urdu and then translated it for her: ‘She has come to my house. Sometimes I look at her, sometimes I look at my house.’

‘That means you’re pleased to have me here. Where are my thingees?’

I brought the bundle and untied it. ‘I didn’t order that one; it was too expensive, you remember? That old tailor is tryin’ to rob me. All you Indians try to touch us Americans. You think we’re a bunch of suckers, don’t you?’

‘He’s not charging you any more for this material. He knew you liked it better, so he’s just made it for you.’