‘On whose side are you?’

‘He is mad. I told him as politely as I could, “I am on no side—neither Emperor Aurangzeb’s nor your Guru’s.” You know what he says to me? “So you are neutral, hain? If you were a man or a woman you would have been on one side or the other.” But I shut him up for all time to come; he will never bandy words with me again. I said, “Arre, son of Budhoo Singh! The great Bhagwan who lives up in the heavens can perform many miracles. He can make a Bhangi (sweeper) into a Brahmin. He can turn a timid Bania (shopkeeper) into a Kshatriya (warrior). He can make a poor hijda into a man or a woman. But even Bhagwan cannot put sense into the skull of a budhoo like you.”’

Bhagmati flops into the sofa with a triumphant ‘hoon’. She takes out a cigarette and flings the matchbox across the room to me. I go over and light her cigarette. ‘You think there will be trouble in the city? There are policemen everywhere. Truckloads of them in Chandni Chowk and Nai Sarak and Qazi-ka-Hauz and Ajmeri Gate and Connaught Place—everywhere!’

‘Maybe!’ I reply. I have been a little off colour for some days and have not much appetite for Bhagmati. She has shown me a way out of my difficulties. ‘That’s the route the Sikh’s procession is to take this afternoon. And they will be in all the gurdwaras including the one right behind this apartment. You will be safest with your husband in Lal Kuan. I can drop you there.’

Bhagmati looks at me very suspiciously. I don a sanctimonious look. I tell her that I had forgotten about the anniversary of the martyrdom of the ninth Guru, Tegh Bahadur. I tell her that it is a day for prayer not fornication. Bhagmati is very superstitious about having sex on sacred days. She often says, ‘We have three sixty-four days to do this; one day of abstinence won’t kill us.’

She finishes her cigarette. I give her twenty rupees. ‘What’s this for?’ she asks as she tucks the notes in her bra. I drive her back to Lal Kuan.

The Untouchables

It was a few days before Diwali that news of the Badshah Jahangir’s death was heard in Dilli. No one was allowed to light a lamp or kindle a fire in their hearth for some days. Our elders said that anyone seen smiling or heard laughing during the next forty days would have his head cut off. My mother would not let me go out to play with the other boys lest I forgot not to shout or laugh. That is why although I was only a small boy I can never forget that badshah’s death.