The Turning - Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

The hearse from JJ Hospital rolled up rather promptly, just as Scherezade arrived, clinging tight to Zerxes Avari's arm. She had caught him at his Chambers on his way to Court and had blurted out what had happened. Some instinct made him instruct one of his Juniors to get the case adjourned. He had wanted to be there, at Dina's, with Scherezade . . .

After giving the necessary directions at JJ, Fredun had made the other telephone calls. Calls which could not be put off anY longer. To his wife, at the school where she taught. Asking her to contact the children and ask them too to come over to Dina's. To Jamshed and Shirin. To Vinod Shahane, (whose number he found in the small diary near the telephone, and who was fortunately at home for his lunch). Not so much to inform him, as to find out if he knew where Prakash was staying, at Poona, and to get the telephone number from him, if he had it. Vinod did. His father was staying at the Blue Diamond Hotel, he informed Fredun. He too would be coming over, he said, appearing shocked at the news.

The men from JJ Hospital went about their business with the quiet efficiency of the totally uninvolved. As they were bearing the stretcher out of the doorway, they almost collided with a gustily sobbing Shirin Dumasia, closely followed by an unusually grim-faced Jamshed.

Death served to whet Shirin's predilection for histrionics. "Oh my Sister, my Sister," she cried, flinging herself on the shrouded body.

Her husband caught hold of both her arms and pulled her away unceremoniously. "Come, my dear, control your grief at least till you're inside the house." Over her head his eyes met Fredun's.

"But where are they taking her?" shrieked Shirin. "What will happen to her body? Who will. . ."
"Enough, Shirin," Jamshed's voice suddenly cracked like a whiplash, startling even his wife into silence. Banoo Maa, who liked her the least of the three, put an arm round her shoulders and led her into the drawing room.

"I only wanted to know what they would do to her body," sobbed Shirin quietly now, for Banoo Maa's ears alone.

"Don't you worry about all that, dear," said Banoo consolingly."Everything's been taken care of. Dina took care of that herself," she added, almost to herself.

Banoo herself had no tears left. She pressed Shirin down onto a sofa, sat down herself, closed her eyes, and murmured a silent prayer for Dina's soul. Surely she was entitled in death to that much, at least!

By tacit volition, Fredun, Zerxes and Jamshed had gathered together in one corner of the drawing room. Fredun silently passed the Will to Zerxes. Who read it without comment, before passing it on to Jamshed.

Banoo was sitting with her eyes closed, as immoveable as a bronze Buddha. Shirin had wiped her tears and blown her nose fiercely into a large hanky extracted from her capacious handbag, then wandered into Dina's bedroom. The room where Dina had breathed her last.

She saw Scherezade there, kneeling by the side of the bed, her face buried in the saree Dina had last worn, weeping bitterly. Instinctively realizing that she was being watched, Scherezade jerked her head up. A wave of dizziness swept over her as she did so. Noticing Shirin by the door, she rose to her feet, and walked rather unsteadily out of Dina's bedroom.

Shirin slid into the bedroom. She peered tearfully around: at the mussed-up bed; at the well-stocked bookshelves; at the uncluttered dressing table, containing some cosmetics and some bottles of perfume. It was a bedroom curiously devoid of any personal touch. Except for the bookshelves.

Rashna, Firdauz and Tehmul had not yet arrived. Nor had Vinod Shahane. The three men were still conferring in the corner.

"What do we do about the prayers?" Jamshed voiced the question troubling everyone's mind.

"There's no way we can have Parsee funeral prayers," said Fredun decidedly, as Scherezade walked up to them.

"Oh Dad, don't be so dogmatic," protested Scherezade. "She was born a Parsee, wasn't she?" she asked, tiredly.

"Yes, but she didn't die a Parsee," returned her father implacably.

There seemed to be no answer to this brutal truth. To her own horror, Scherezade found herself breaking down again, and began to sob uncontrollably. Long, gasping sobs. Fredun looked at Zerxes helplessly. Banoo Maa opened her eyes, and hurried up off the sofa she was sitting. Shirin stood hovering near the door to Dina's bedroom, looking around with her bird-like glance. Jamshed tried to pat Scherezade's shoulder, but was frustrated in his efforts by Zerxes.

Putting an arm around her, he half led, half dragged Scherezade to the settee at the far end of the room, almost hidden behind a huge potted fish-tail palm. He then sat down, and made her lie on the settee with her head on his lap, his long sensitive fingers caressing her silken waves.

The doorbell shrilled. Fredun looked up, expecting to see his wife and son.

Vinod Shahane hurried in, brushing brusquely past the swollen eyed Fatima. "I hope I'm not intruding," he began awkwardly, looking around a little helplessly.

Fredun, guessing who he could be, came forward, introduced himself and the others. All except Zerxes and Scherezade, who were still on the settee behind the huge palm, out of their view.

Vinod cast a grateful glance at Fredun, "I thought it appropriate to come over, since you were good enough to telephone and inform me." He paused, clearing his throat, his words sounding stilted even to himself. He was well aware as were all the others, that Fredun had merely phoned Vinod to learn of his father's whereabouts. Nobody had expected Vinod to actually land up there!

"Has. . . has my father been informed?" Vinod inquired, once more glancing at Fredun.

"We tried to get in touch with him at the Blue Diamond Hotel, where you told us he was staying, but he had gone out. I have left a message at the reception, requesting him to return as soon as possible."

"Er. . . the message. . ." ventured Vinod delicately.

"That his wife is seriously ill. I thought that would be less of a shock," said Fredun.

"Thank you. That was thoughtful of you," Vinod said gratefully. "And her body. . . "

"Has been sent to the hospita1."

"Hospital?" echoed Vinod, looking startled.

"Dina had Willed her body to a teaching hospital for medical research," explained Jamshed. "It's been sent to J.J.Hospital"

"I see," murmured Vinod. He shuffled his feet a bit, then mumbled awkwardly, "Well, if there's nothing further I can do here, I'll make a move. I haven't informed my folks yet. Not even my sister. I'd better go and do that. When my father returns, will you please request him to get in touch with me? I'll be at home."

"Certainly," assured Fredun.

Vinod walked away hurriedly, blundering into Dina's bedroom by mistake, before eventually finding his way out.

"Decent of the chap to turn up," said Fredun, looking around at the others a little uncertainly.


Jamshed shrugged. "If you ask me, he merely came out of curiosity," he said uncharitably. "No other reason why he should have come now. It's not as though he was even acquainted with Dina."

* * * *

Vinod broke a couple of traffic lights driving home, his mind racing as furiously. How to tell Nivedita? How should he break the news to her? How would she take it?

Nivedita was pottering about in her terrace garden when he reached the house, at about 5 in the evening. Kuntabai was resting. Suchitra and Arun were in the room allotted to them, probably packing. They were leaving for Calcutta the next day.

Vinod found Nivedita stooping over the rock garden. What had she been up to, now? He went up to her, gently took her by the arm and led her to her room. His medical bag was handy in his own room, next to hers, should the need arise. He made her sit down on the bed, in the crook of his arm. Then he told her.

"So it worked," the words jerked out of Nivedita's lips before she could stop herself. Then she caught her hand to her mouth like a guilty child, looking up at Vinod with frightened eyes.

"Listen to me, Nivedita," said Vinod sternly. "You just forget about everything, keep cool, and don't talk to anybody about this. You understand? Not anybody. I'll take care of things. I'll look after you."

"She's gone. She's really gone?" she asked on a note of inquiry, tilting her head to one side, looking up at Vinod half invitingly, half fearfully.

"She's gone," confirmed Vinod. "Now there's nothing for you to worry about." He then stretched out full length on the bed, pulling her all the way beside him. His hand slid under her loose kurta, found her nubile young breast and fondled it expertly, arousing her nipple to an erection to match his own. Her hands too moved, almost of their own volition, tentative, exploring. There was nothing tentative however, about Vinod's touch. His absent caresses gave way to urgent forays deeper into the recesses of her eager, receptive body, as Nivedita succumbed once more to the sin she would enjoy trying to expiate later.

To the confessional of the figurine.

But for now, it was the time to triumph.

To exult.

And Vinod was marvellous today. Real tigerish! Working her up to a frenzied climax as he played upon her body as expertly as a Menuhin on a Stradivarius . . .

* * * *

At around the same time in Poona, Dr. Sonali Roy returned to their hotel room before Prakash. He would not be back from his conference till quite late. She went to the reception to pick up the key.

And got the message from a carefully blank faced reception clerk who appeared not to notice anything unusual in the existence of two wives of Mr. Prakash Sattar, one apparently seriously ill back home, one hale and hearty, demanding the room key from him.

Sonali was too sophisticated a woman to blush, but she had to admit to herself that that damned hotel clerk had succeeded in making her feel uncomfortable. She would give her ultimatum to Prakash tonight, she promised herself. Careless of appearances as she had been in her youth, as she approached middle age, the inexorable net of convention was closing in upon her and together with it, the craving for respectability.

She would not go about in this clandestine fashion any longer! She wouldn't have done it now, but Prakash had been so desperate! For once, he had even been indifferent to the risk of discovery. Not only had he booked the hotel room in his real name, he had apparently even left word of his whereabouts with people in Bombay! How in heaven's name had Dina's brother known where Prakash was staying, in Poona?

Sonali was aware that they had very little time left. She had often argued with Prakash that it was wrong of him to keep things hidden from his children. Especially Vinod. He should tell Vinod.

Sonali herself had no secrets from her own son, Abhijeet. Who ironically, was a close friend of Vinod Shahane! But that was the one thing Prakash probably wasn't aware of! That their respective sons were known to each other, independently of either of them.

Idly, she wondered how Prakash would react if he knew! Dear, funny Prakash, with his curious ideas of right and wrong. Tailored to suit his own expediency! So typical of most men, she thought, half indulgently, half exasperatedly. Women were more clear in their thinking. And more ruthless in acknowledging what they wanted. And hang the cost!

Sonali showered, got into a comfortable kaftan, and lay down with a book, awaiting Prakash's return. She wondered idly just how seriously ill Dina Sattar was!

* * * *

While Sonali was lying in bed in the hotel room in Poona trying to read, her glance straying to her travelling clock every few minutes, Scherezade was lying on Zerxes' bed in his flat, enduring a severe headache.

After the arrival of Rashna, Firdauz and Tehmul at Dina's, the atmosphere had become even more strained. Unable to face the thought of going to her house with her parents, Scherezade had informed them that she'd return home later, after dinner. Zerxes had brought her over to his flat and taken her straight into the bedroom.

He left her lying on the bed, her forehead bathed in Eau de Cologne, while he went to give instructions to his manservant-cum-cook, Krishna, to prepare a light, easily digestible dinner.
Zerxes went back to the bedroom to find the bed empty. From the half-open bathroom door came the sound of running water, and other unmistakable sounds. He reached the bathroom in a few long strides, to find Scherezade throwing up violently into the black marble basin. After the fit of nausea had passed, he helped her back onto the bed and loosened the collar of her tailored shirt. His gaze was arrested by a very slight bluish tinge at the base of her pale, shell-like right ear.

Suddenly he was seized by an unaccustomed, inexplicable fear. For once without realizing why he was doing something, Zerxes rang up one of his closest friends. A physician. Dr. Subhash Chitaley.

Subhash Chitaley, after he had briefly examined Scherezade, looked at Zerxes with a perplexed frown. "We've got to rush her to a hospital straight away," he decreed. "She needs oxygen urgently."

In the speeding car, Subhash asked his white-faced friend, "What's been happening?"

Zerxes quickly explained the circumstances of Dina's unexpected death and how upset Scherezade was about the whole thing.

Subhash stroked his prematurely graying French beard thoughtfully. "Well, it could be a case of marginal apoplexy caused by convulsive weeping, together with the shock of her aunt's death," he said doubtfully. "But I don't quite see how. . ."

They had reached the hospital by then. It was hardly ten minutes' drive away from Zerxes' flat. Subhash was out almost before the car came to a halt, and had had a stretcher wheeled out, together with an oxygen cylinder, at the entrance itself. He was obviously well-known at that hospital. He had her in the Emergency within a matter of minutes. She seemed to be responding well to the oxygen.

Reassured that she was in safe hands, Zerxes went to the public telephone booth in the lobby and dialled Fredun's number. Firdauz answered the telephone and informed Zerxes that both his parents as well as Banoo Maa were staying over at Dina's, that night. Prakash apparently had not yet returned to Bombay. Banoo Maa had been reluctant to leave Dina's flat till he did. And no way would Fredun leave Banoo Maa there, alone! Also, Firdauz had added distastefully, that that maid of theirs, Fatima, had flatly refused to stay alone in the flat that night.

Zerxes heard him out, then informed him about Scherezade's condition. Firdauz surprised Zerxes by saying he would come over to the hospital immediately, adding, "I think we'd better not say anything to my parents. It would worry them unnecessarily!" Zerxes agreed and awaited his arrival.

"How is she? What's happened?" Firdauz asked anxiously as soon as he reached the hospital and came across Zerxes pacing up and down in the corridor outside the Emergency Room.

"She's better, I believe. The Doctors seem to think she's cried herself into a state of hysteria over Dina's death," Zerxes said slowly. "I'm not sure. . . maybe it's a combination of factors. . ."
He trailed off as Scherezade walked out of the Emergency on her own, if rather wobbly legs, minus the oxygen cylinder. She appeared to have made an almost miraculous recovery.

"It's as I told you," Subhash reassured Zerxes. "It was a mild vasovagal attack, triggered off possibly by sudden, acute, mental distress."

"Vasovagal attack?" queried Firdauz. Zerxes introduced him to Subhash Chitaley.

"That means, temporary suspension of the oxygen supply to the vital organs of the body, especially the brain," explained Subhash. "Luckily, Zerxes called me in time."

Turning to Zerxes, he said, "You can take her home now. She'll be right as rain after a night's rest," smiling encouragingly at his patient.

Zerxes took Subhash aside, asking him in a low voice, "Could there have been the possibility of the suspension of oxygen being. . . not so temporary?"

"Yes," answered Subhash gravely. "In which case, the result could have been. . . well, tragic!"

Zerxes nodded, his face grim. Turning back to Firdauz, he told him abruptly, "I'm taking Scherezade back with me, to my flat for the night, at least," giving him no choice in the matter. Not that Firdauz had any other alternative in mind. Now that Sherrie seemed all right, his natural indolence resurfaced and he was only too relieved to be spared any further hassles. In any case, the whole family knew that Sherrie and that bloke were sleeping together. So let him look after her! It was not that he did not love his sister. It was just that he hated to have his routine disturbed, for anybody!

Firdauz went back as he had come, in his own car. Zerxes drove Scherezade and Subhash to his flat. Subhash parted company from them in the compound where he had parked his car, promising to check up on Scherezade the following day.

Later, snugly tucked up in bed in his almost spartan but beautifully designed bedroom, Zerxes questioned Scherezade closely on exactly what she had done, what she had eaten, what she had drunk, in the past few hours . . .

*