buy the old single. Rustom let him have it for thirty rupees, and got ten for the mattress from the other man.
As Dina watched them carry it away, he said, “I know what you’re thinking. But this flat has no space for an extra bed.” She wondered how close they would sleep that night, now that there were twin beds.
But one of the two was as good as unslept in when they woke on their second morning. Reassured, she spent the day getting her new home organized the way she wanted it. First, she gave notice to Seva Sadan, terminating delivery of Rustom’s evening meals. And for lunch, she would pack something for him when he returned to work the following week.
“No more nonsense of eating out or not eating at all,” she said, and climbed up on a chair to examine the high shelf in the kitchen. She discovered a series of brass and copper vessels, a kettle, and a set of kitchen knives.
“Those are all gone bad,” said Rustom. “I’ve been meaning to sell them for scrap. Tomorrow, I promise.”
“Don’t be silly, these are solid old things. They can be repaired and tinned. Nowadays you can’t buy such quality.”
The next time a tinker yelled outside their window, she called him to fix the leaking vessels and rivet the broken handle of the kettle. She watched to make sure he did the work properly. As he finished each pot, she took it to the bathroom and tested it with water.
The knife-grinder went by with his wheel slung over his shoulder. The tinker stopped hammering while she clapped twice to get his attention.
The dull blades soon began glinting with sharp edges. She relished the energy, the attention, the pounding and banging that went into getting her household shipshape for decades of wedded bliss with Rustom. A lifetime had to be crafted, just like anything else, she thought, it had to be moulded and beaten and burnished in order to get the most out of it.
The knife-grinder averted his face as sparks flew from the spinning grindstone. Like Divali fireworks, she thought, while the tinker’s hammer blows rang gaily in her ears.
D ina and Rustom celebrated their first wedding anniversary by going to the cinema and dining out. They saw Submarine Command , starring William Holden, who played an American naval commander in Korea. They held hands during the film and, afterwards, ate chicken biryani at the Wayside Inn.
The following year Dina wanted to see something less grim. So they picked Bing Crosby’s High Society , a brand-new release. She had bought a new frock for the occasion, blue, with a vivacious peplum that came alive with walking.
“I don’t know if you should wear that,” said Rustom, coming up behind her and stroking her hips.
“Why?” she smiled, wiggling to tease him.
“You’ll drive the men wild in the streets. Better carry your pointy pagoda parasol to protect yourself.”
“Won’t you protect me, and fight them off?”
“Okay. In that case, I’ll carry your spear. Better still, I’ll bring my violin – the screeching will scare them more.”
They enjoyed the film immensely. The blue frock was their private joke all evening as they imagined envious women and lustful men thirsting to get their hands on it. For dinner they went to Mongini’s; the desserts there had a wonderful reputation.
On their third anniversary, they decided to invite Nusswan, Ruby, and the children (there were two now) to dinner. Relations between them had been cordial since the wedding. Dina and Rustom were always asked to the children’s birthdays, and also on Navroze and Khordad Sal. Dina, sometimes alone, sometimes with Rustom, had taken to dropping in with sweets for her nephews, or just to say hello. The ill feelings had disappeared so completely that it was hard to remember them with any clarity. One was tempted to conclude that it had all been exaggerated by the imagination.
The little anniversary party proceeded most amicably. Dina could not afford a new outfit, and wore last year’s
As Dina watched them carry it away, he said, “I know what you’re thinking. But this flat has no space for an extra bed.” She wondered how close they would sleep that night, now that there were twin beds.
But one of the two was as good as unslept in when they woke on their second morning. Reassured, she spent the day getting her new home organized the way she wanted it. First, she gave notice to Seva Sadan, terminating delivery of Rustom’s evening meals. And for lunch, she would pack something for him when he returned to work the following week.
“No more nonsense of eating out or not eating at all,” she said, and climbed up on a chair to examine the high shelf in the kitchen. She discovered a series of brass and copper vessels, a kettle, and a set of kitchen knives.
“Those are all gone bad,” said Rustom. “I’ve been meaning to sell them for scrap. Tomorrow, I promise.”
“Don’t be silly, these are solid old things. They can be repaired and tinned. Nowadays you can’t buy such quality.”
The next time a tinker yelled outside their window, she called him to fix the leaking vessels and rivet the broken handle of the kettle. She watched to make sure he did the work properly. As he finished each pot, she took it to the bathroom and tested it with water.
The knife-grinder went by with his wheel slung over his shoulder. The tinker stopped hammering while she clapped twice to get his attention.
The dull blades soon began glinting with sharp edges. She relished the energy, the attention, the pounding and banging that went into getting her household shipshape for decades of wedded bliss with Rustom. A lifetime had to be crafted, just like anything else, she thought, it had to be moulded and beaten and burnished in order to get the most out of it.
The knife-grinder averted his face as sparks flew from the spinning grindstone. Like Divali fireworks, she thought, while the tinker’s hammer blows rang gaily in her ears.
D ina and Rustom celebrated their first wedding anniversary by going to the cinema and dining out. They saw Submarine Command , starring William Holden, who played an American naval commander in Korea. They held hands during the film and, afterwards, ate chicken biryani at the Wayside Inn.
The following year Dina wanted to see something less grim. So they picked Bing Crosby’s High Society , a brand-new release. She had bought a new frock for the occasion, blue, with a vivacious peplum that came alive with walking.
“I don’t know if you should wear that,” said Rustom, coming up behind her and stroking her hips.
“Why?” she smiled, wiggling to tease him.
“You’ll drive the men wild in the streets. Better carry your pointy pagoda parasol to protect yourself.”
“Won’t you protect me, and fight them off?”
“Okay. In that case, I’ll carry your spear. Better still, I’ll bring my violin – the screeching will scare them more.”
They enjoyed the film immensely. The blue frock was their private joke all evening as they imagined envious women and lustful men thirsting to get their hands on it. For dinner they went to Mongini’s; the desserts there had a wonderful reputation.
On their third anniversary, they decided to invite Nusswan, Ruby, and the children (there were two now) to dinner. Relations between them had been cordial since the wedding. Dina and Rustom were always asked to the children’s birthdays, and also on Navroze and Khordad Sal. Dina, sometimes alone, sometimes with Rustom, had taken to dropping in with sweets for her nephews, or just to say hello. The ill feelings had disappeared so completely that it was hard to remember them with any clarity. One was tempted to conclude that it had all been exaggerated by the imagination.
The little anniversary party proceeded most amicably. Dina could not afford a new outfit, and wore last year’s
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