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Authors: Bapsi Sidhwa
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with a handkerchief knotted in a tight band round his aching forehead. The idea produced on that fateful evening at the dinner table, that insidious little germ, grew and grew. Feeding on his misery, on his dire monetary circumstances and on his horror of Jerbanoo, it intoxicated his soul.
Try as he might he could think of nothing else. He prayed, endeavouring to quieten the interminable discourses in his mind. But his relentless brain worked despite himself, sorting, combining and forcing his thoughts. He became an insomniac, defining principles and guidelines that were to serve him the rest of his life.
It did not take Freddy long to connect the gypsy’s prophecy with the insurance agent’s visit. If it was ordained that the man favourably would influence the course of his life, who was he to stand in the way of his own good fortune? The idea had come to him with a devastating impact, and God would take care of the rest.
In all, Freddy surmounted his mental crisis rather well. He had come to terms with his conscience, and there was nothing on his mind now but the implementation of his plans. After two gruelling months of self-doubt, Freddy once again faced the world with confidence.
The plan was exquisite in its simplicity. He went over the details carefully, examined all the angles, and in a self-congratulatory frame of mind marvelled at his brain. As usual, a proverb wormed its way into his consciousness: ‘Two birds with one stone … kill two birds with one stone,’ it whispered sagely out of the pages of his thick books. With this omen, he knew he could not fail.
Chapter 8
MR Adenwalla had departed for Karachi in December, and by the end of February Freddy was ready for action. The plan was to be executed on Sunday, 15th March, 1901. He began an elaborate countdown.
Freddy had only twenty-one days in hand. The bulk of the action called for preparatory work and Freddy inaugurated the scheme with a subtle change in his attitude towards Jerbanoo.
Day by day, unobtrusively and suavely, he evinced more interest in Jerbanoo’s ailments and in her well-being. His polite glances now included her when he addressed his family. It was hard for him and embarrassing, since he had made a fine art of avoiding her eyes. Freddy proceeded so gradually, it was almost a week before Putli noticed that the relationship between her husband and her mother had somehow changed. It was more than she had hoped. Yet, she was troubled. Searching Freddy’s face with her candid, knowing eyes, she sometimes caught a look which disturbed her. She wondered what he was up to.
One day, Freddy arrested his first-born’s headlong flight from the room. He rebuked her, saying: ‘Can’t you see your grandmother is still talking to you? Hasn’t anyone taught you to respect your elders? Go to her and hear what she has to say. Do as she tells you.’
Putli, entering the room at that moment, was so astonished, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Freddy turned his head and caught her eye unawares. Thewords, so noble in their content, were charged with a special foreboding when Putli saw the sly, vindictive and triumphant look on Freddy’s face.
The next morning he told Putli, ‘Try and keep the kids quiet in the afternoon. They bother the old lady with their noise.’
‘Why this sudden concern?’ she asked sceptically.
‘Ah, well, she is an old woman after all. I feel sorry for her. I imagine she misses her relatives, don’t you think?’
He spoke with such obvious sincerity that Putli lowered her probing eyes.
And again when Freddy said, ‘I’ll be sending up a bottle of port wine. See that mother has some before lunch; she needs a tonic,’ Putli bowed her head in shame and buried all her misgivings. He had spoken with a shy reticence that touched the very core of her loving heart.
Anxious to make amends to her gentle spouse for having doubted him, Putli rushed to Jerbanoo the moment Freddy left.
‘Faredoon is sending a bottle of
Try as he might he could think of nothing else. He prayed, endeavouring to quieten the interminable discourses in his mind. But his relentless brain worked despite himself, sorting, combining and forcing his thoughts. He became an insomniac, defining principles and guidelines that were to serve him the rest of his life.
It did not take Freddy long to connect the gypsy’s prophecy with the insurance agent’s visit. If it was ordained that the man favourably would influence the course of his life, who was he to stand in the way of his own good fortune? The idea had come to him with a devastating impact, and God would take care of the rest.
In all, Freddy surmounted his mental crisis rather well. He had come to terms with his conscience, and there was nothing on his mind now but the implementation of his plans. After two gruelling months of self-doubt, Freddy once again faced the world with confidence.
The plan was exquisite in its simplicity. He went over the details carefully, examined all the angles, and in a self-congratulatory frame of mind marvelled at his brain. As usual, a proverb wormed its way into his consciousness: ‘Two birds with one stone … kill two birds with one stone,’ it whispered sagely out of the pages of his thick books. With this omen, he knew he could not fail.
Chapter 8
MR Adenwalla had departed for Karachi in December, and by the end of February Freddy was ready for action. The plan was to be executed on Sunday, 15th March, 1901. He began an elaborate countdown.
Freddy had only twenty-one days in hand. The bulk of the action called for preparatory work and Freddy inaugurated the scheme with a subtle change in his attitude towards Jerbanoo.
Day by day, unobtrusively and suavely, he evinced more interest in Jerbanoo’s ailments and in her well-being. His polite glances now included her when he addressed his family. It was hard for him and embarrassing, since he had made a fine art of avoiding her eyes. Freddy proceeded so gradually, it was almost a week before Putli noticed that the relationship between her husband and her mother had somehow changed. It was more than she had hoped. Yet, she was troubled. Searching Freddy’s face with her candid, knowing eyes, she sometimes caught a look which disturbed her. She wondered what he was up to.
One day, Freddy arrested his first-born’s headlong flight from the room. He rebuked her, saying: ‘Can’t you see your grandmother is still talking to you? Hasn’t anyone taught you to respect your elders? Go to her and hear what she has to say. Do as she tells you.’
Putli, entering the room at that moment, was so astonished, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Freddy turned his head and caught her eye unawares. Thewords, so noble in their content, were charged with a special foreboding when Putli saw the sly, vindictive and triumphant look on Freddy’s face.
The next morning he told Putli, ‘Try and keep the kids quiet in the afternoon. They bother the old lady with their noise.’
‘Why this sudden concern?’ she asked sceptically.
‘Ah, well, she is an old woman after all. I feel sorry for her. I imagine she misses her relatives, don’t you think?’
He spoke with such obvious sincerity that Putli lowered her probing eyes.
And again when Freddy said, ‘I’ll be sending up a bottle of port wine. See that mother has some before lunch; she needs a tonic,’ Putli bowed her head in shame and buried all her misgivings. He had spoken with a shy reticence that touched the very core of her loving heart.
Anxious to make amends to her gentle spouse for having doubted him, Putli rushed to Jerbanoo the moment Freddy left.
‘Faredoon is sending a bottle of
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