Rohinton Mistry - Such A Long Journey

And it was while she was washing out the glass that the doorbell surprised her. Through the peephole she saw Roshan with one of the school nuns. Dilnavaz’s hand trembled as she fumbled with the latch.

‘Good-day, Mrs. Noble,’ said the nun, shaking water off her umbrella. Then she started, and dropped the umbrella, for Tehmul suddenly materialized behind her. He examined her cagily from head to toe, from the folds of her wimple to the rain-muddied hem of her white habit, gazing long and hard at the crucifix shining upon her flattened bosom. He scratched his head and circled around her, never having seen such a strangely attired creature during all his cloistered life in Khodadad Building and its surrounds.

‘Yes, Sister,’ said Dilnavaz, taking Roshan’s hand. ‘What is wrong?’ But the question was unnecessary; the child’s wan countenance and clammy hand revealed all.

‘Roshan is not feeling well today, so we decided to bring her home.’ The nun squirmed under Tehmul’s gaze and eyed him suspiciously. ‘She has been to the bathroom several times already, and brought up her breakfast.’

‘Thank you for coming, Sister. Say thank you, Roshan.’

‘Thank you, Sister.’

‘You are welcome, child. Now get well soon, we want you back in class.’ She stroked Roshan’s head and said a short, silent prayer before leaving.

Dilnavaz took off Roshan’s raincoat, dried her hands and feet. ‘Sleep a little. I will phone Daddy and tell him.’

‘Ask Daddy to come early today. Please.’ Her pale, beseeching face made Dilnavaz want to hold her tight, but she did not let it show.

‘Now you know Daddy has work to do in the office,’ she said briskly, covering her with a sheet. ‘He cannot leave it just like that.’

‘Only once,’ she pleaded.

‘OK, I will ask him. Sleep now.’ She locked the door and went to telephone.

Miss Kutpitia took a while to reach the door. Dilnavaz could hear talking inside the flat. Visitors for Miss Kutpitia? Impossible. She put her ear to the door. ‘I made bhakras today for your tea. And if you finish all your lessons quickly, I will take you to Chaupatty, you can dig in the sand with your spade. Hurry, hurry now, be a good boy, don’t waste time.’ Then a door slammed inside. Dilnavaz stepped back as footsteps approached.

Miss Kutpitia opened the peephole, asking coldly, ‘Who?’

‘Dilnavaz.’

The cover fell into place and she unbolted the door. ‘Forgive me, day by day eyes are getting worse and worse.’

‘It’s all right, sometimes I also have trouble seeing. What to do, years pass and make us old.’

‘Rubbish!’ said Miss Kutpitia spiritedly. ‘Many years before you will have my kind of problems. Your three children will get married, make you a grandmother first.’

‘All in God’s hands. But can I use the phone?’

‘Of course.’ She unlocked the receiver and stepped aside. While waiting for the bank receptionist to locate Gustad, Dilnavaz looked around her. No sign of any visitors. Unless they were hidden behind the two locked doors. She finished and offered thirty paise.

‘I cannot take money for phoning about Roshan’s sickness,’ said Miss Kutpitia. Insisting was useless, it was impossible to get past the adamant years between their ages. ‘Put it away in your pocket. Put it away or you will make me angry.’ She looked for the key. ‘Poor Roshan. What a sweet and gentle child she is.’ The lock clicked back on the receiver. ‘Can I tell you something? You will not mind taking an old woman’s advice?’

‘Not at all,’ said Dilnavaz.

‘Listen. I heard you talking about the doctor. What I am saying is: go, get the medicine. But don’t forget there are causes of sickness for which doctor can do nothing.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Miss Kutpitia raised a hand with the index finger extended. ‘When a laughing-playing child like Roshan suddenly becomes sick, there can be other reasons. Such as evil eye. And doctor’s medicine is no prevention or cure for that. There are special ways.’

Dilnavaz nodded.

‘Oh, you know about them?’ She shook her head, and Miss Kutpitia was irritated. ‘Then why are you nodding? Listen. Take your needle and thread, a nice strong thread with a big knot at the end. Select a yellow lime, and seven chillies. Chillies must be green, not turning red. Never red. String them all together with the needle. Lime goes at the bottom. Then hang the whole thing over your door, inside the house.’

‘What will it do?’

‘It is like a taveej, a protection. Each time Roshan walks under it, the evil eye becomes less and less powerful. Actually, once you hang it, everyone in your family will benefit.’

Dilnavaz agreed to prepare the talisman immediately. ‘But you know, Sohrab is still refusing to come back home.’

‘Naturally. You want a miracle or what? You want Seem-Salamay Foofoo and Abracadabra? Then go to a magician.’ But her annoyance passed easily, and she reassured Dilnavaz. ‘Patience. These things take time. Tehmul comes for the juice?’ She thought for a moment. ‘There is one more thing you can do, if you like, to make it a little faster. You will need Tehmul’s nails.’ She explained the full procedure. ‘But after this, there is only one remedy left. And it’s too dangerous, Tehmul could completely lose his mind, become a madhouse case. It is so terrible, I am not even going to tell you about it. Just do what I have said.’

‘Thank you. So much of your time I’ve taken.’

‘What have I to do anyway? Sit and wait till the One Up There calls me.’

‘Don’t say that, you have many years left with us.’

‘Such a curse you are putting on me? What will I do with many years? I wish them for you and your children instead.’ It was difficult to get the last word on the subject of death and dying with Miss Kutpitia, as on any other subject. Dilnavaz tried again, unsuccessfully, to give her thirty paise, then returned home.

A smile like a sunburst shone briefly on Roshan’s drawn face when she heard that Daddy would be home early to take her to Dr. Paymaster. ‘Early? Then I’ll sleep now,’ she said, and closed her eyes. Dilnavaz stroked her hair, remembering that when the boys were little, they waited just as anxiously for their Daddy to return from the office. How Sohrab and Darius used to race to the door to open it for him. Now they are grown, and things are so different.

Gustad’s early arrival coincided with Dimple’s walk, and he came face to face with Mr. Rabadi. The Pomeranian yapped and darted at his ankles, fetching up short thanks to the leash, but Gustad burst out, ‘If you must keep an animal, at least train your bloody bitch!’

It provided Mr. Rabadi with the opening he had been waiting for. Recently, Dustoorji Baria had given him two new sets of prayers: one for Dimple’s health; the other to weave protective vibrations around his sweet child Jasmine, safeguarding her from the savage lusts of wild boys like that son of Noble. The prayers made Mr. Rabadi feel invincible. ‘You are talking of training an animal? First teach manners and discipline to your own son! Walking away with somebody else’s newspapers!’

‘Go, go! Ask your daughter about it! And take your bitch with you, before I lose my temper!’ Gustad went inside, leaving him to mutter among the bushes.

‘Is Roshan ready?’ asked Gustad, his rage straining his determination to keep his voice down.

‘Almost.’ Dilnavaz wondered what the matter was.

‘Good. I will be back in two minutes.’ He went to the WC chawl and picked up The Times of India and Jam-E-Jamshed stacks, one under each arm. He asked Dilnavaz to open the door. ‘That dogwalla idiot is saying my son stole his papers, so I’ll give him papers!’