In the Shadow of a Dream (10 page)

‘Well, Bomi, you’ve played your part. Tell me, what made the boys come to you? Was it by chance?’

‘Chance? No, no, not chance. The fellow that one of the boys calls his uncle, he worked for me. Three years. Then I got him job at Rex Cinema. He now manager.’

‘There, you see, Boman. You are a better man than I am Gunga Din.’

‘Gunga Din. Who’s this Gunga Din?’

‘Never mind, Boman. Take it from me you are a good man.’

‘Only, since my
bibi
Kaju died. Before that I was bad man.’

‘Why do you say that? The year before she died, Kaju told me how good and kind you were, always, and how concerned she was about you being alone.’

‘Believe me Master Sahib, I was a hard man. This city of beggars, Bombay, it makes people hard. When I was in school, boys gave me hard time. Because of my name. Boman Irani, that is Boman from Iran, but boys they call me
Bombeel
, that is Bombay duck…why you laugh? Yes, now, I also laugh. But not then.’

‘Well, you and I have learned not to live in the past.’

Boman rolled his head. ‘Will you now partake of some sweets? I have ordered some hot
jelabis
for your delection.’

‘That’s kind, Bomi, but I really must be leaving. I’m going to the flicks. Six-thirty, at the Eros Cinema.’

‘But that is not far. Just end of this road. There’s lot of time.’

Sam shook his head. ‘I’m going with friends and I promised to meet them earlier.’

Chapter Four
 

‘D
usty. Is that you?’ Sam Dustoor turned from the bookshelves in the sitting-room and leaning heavily on his stick, limped to the sofa and sank into its yielding depths.

A tall and shapely young man entered the room. ‘You are supposed to be resting,’ he said disapprovingly. ‘You know what doc said? Why aren’t you in bed?’

‘I was looking for a book. I know you’ve been fetching books for me, but you weren’t here and I thought I knew where it was. But I can’t find it. I could’ve sworn it was on that shelf there, behind me, third row.’

‘It could be anywhere. There are bookshelves in every room of this house. What’s the title,’ Dusty scanned the shelf behind Sam. ‘There’s a gap here, in this row.’

‘Eh? Oh dear, but of course, I remember now. Help me up.’

‘No. You stay there. Tell me and I’ll get it for you.’

‘I got it out after he left, the day before yesterday. It’s there, on the coffee table. Lawrence’s
The Seven Pillars.
I thought I’d give it to Dr Mehta. Unless you want it? I know he hasn’t got a copy.’

‘No, Papa, give it to him.’

‘Papa? How wonderful! I have a beautiful son through no effort on my part.’

Dusty held out a hand towards Sam. ‘There, let me help you back to your room. No, leave the book. I’ll remember. Now lean on me. You must do as Mehta says. He knows what he’s talking about. All that red wine and port! I hadn’t the heart to stop you last night. It was your birthday, after all.’

‘But now a period of enforced abstinence? Well, I’ll submit to that. Four guests, you and me, six of us, and all my units have gone in one evening. Absurd! But not half as ridiculous as getting a doctor to sign a certificate to say one needs alcohol for one’s health’s sake.’ Sam sat on the edge of his bed. ‘When you’re twenty-one get Mehta to certify you too.’

‘By then I may not need a drink permit.’

‘Why? Surely you don’t believe that in the next five years the Government will see sense and cancel the prohibition laws? We’ll see. That’s if I’m still around.’

‘Don’t. You promised. Give me time. I need time to repay your kindness.’

‘I’m sorry. It slipped out. Tell me, how did the meeting go with Asif and Yosef?’

‘Asif is now an usher in the Metro Cinema. We were able to have a chat over a cup of tea at the Soda Fountain. Yosef has gone back to Biwara.’

‘You know, Yosef lied about Ali being his uncle.’

‘Yes. But no harm done. The cinema was always in his blood and those years he spent here has taught him something about the cinema business. He’s taking over the local flea-pit in Biwara as both manager and projectionist…why d’you laugh?’

‘Bomi told me it was the first English word you said. I haven’t forgotten.’

‘Gosh! You mean, projectionist?’

‘Yes. You ought to see him sometime. Boman. Minoo too. You really ought.’

‘Can’t stand Minoo. He’s too physical. Can’t finish a sentence without grabbing my hand or putting his arm round my shoulder.’

‘You can be hard, dear boy. It’s not just Minoo. With others too. People say how indifferent, distant, and independent you can be. Yes, all that. I’m not saying you lack kindness, but I too have sensed a coolness…no, that’s harsh. I mean a certain economy of emotion! That was put awkwardly. But you’re bright enough to know what I mean. I can live with it. We’re very alike, you and I. Maybe why we get on.’

‘There’s so much I want to do. Friendship and friends take up time.’

‘Living is more than being clever. And what about a healthy interest in girls?’

‘That will come. Right now I haven’t time, but I’ve read the books you gave me, Stopes, Ellis…since you were embarrassed to talk about sex. Actually they did some of that in school. In the final year, well sort of…’

Sam laughed. ‘You could say that again, “sort of”. More botany than biology.’

‘I knew all that stuff before then. Asif’s teachings may have been raw in tooth and claw, but it was straight to the jaw. His curiosity knew no bounds.’

‘That’s it. It’s what I wanted to say. The apt word I can think of is “controlled”. It’s time you took account of yourself. You are very controlled. I supposed you had to be from a very early age?’

‘That and the French philosopher you made me read some time ago. To avoid pain, avoid attachments.’

‘More Buddhist than French. Never mind. I think I know who you mean. But that’s not all he would have said, surely. Anyway, we’ve been together long enough for you to relax. To be less controlled.’

Dusty compressed his lips. ‘No. I mean, yes…look who’s talking! But I need time. You must give me time. I know I’m being selfish. I want to know all that you know. So, stay off the drink.’

‘Dusty dear boy, you don’t need me. I enjoy my drink, I may as well…’

‘You may as well do what Dr Mehta says. Please. And don’t say I can manage without you, that I don’t need you. I need your advice!’ The young man took a sharp breath, and for a moment neither spoke. Then Dusty said: ‘He’s getting married next month.’

‘Who? What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Yosef. Yosef’s wedding. Asif would like me to go with him. For the wedding. I told him I can’t. I don’t want to see him again. We’ve been out of touch for years and I find we’ve nothing in common.’

‘You’re not entirely to blame.’

‘There’s a lot I needed to shed and a lot to take on. I suppose I’m being a snob?’

‘I’m as much responsible for that. More. Not being a snob wasn’t going to help or change Asif’s situation. I had to break your links with the past. It would’ve affected you adversely. You do understand. I couldn’t help you and also your friends.’

‘They understood. I’m sure of that. Asif wished me all the luck in the world. That hurt. I mean his generosity shamed me. But he’s a free spirit and, since he misses the grazing wastelands, he’ll return to Fatehpur soon. He told me, he feels there’s every chance to be the village herdsman…since Jaswant is no longer around.’

‘What about the enemies he’s created by absconding with you…Heavens! That was years ago. How time flies.’

‘I don’t think anyone missed us, or missed enough to really care. And as we have learned from Taraporevala, all who were concerned are dead. Sujata, Daadi…even the village headman.’

‘Still you ought to know that I couldn’t help. Not all of you. It would have been too much for me; and they being Muslims didn’t make it any easier. Don’t ask why. It’s just one of those things. There’s a purity and sternness in their religion, which make one hesitant, even uneasy.’

‘Asif will land on his feet. There’s always nearby Biwara and Yosef’s friendship, to fall back on.’

‘And you do know the trouble I’ve had, just taking you on?’

Dusty nodded and smiled. He always found Sam’s single-mindedness endearing.

‘Thank God,’ Sam went on, ‘there was only my brother Dinshaw and a spinster aunt to contend with. But nothing was going to stop me helping you.’

‘You’ve done more than enough. You don’t need to do more. You’ve taken early retirement. Now relax and indulge yourself. Travel. Give yourself a good time.’

‘I am having a good time. You’ve been good for me, Dusty. I so wanted to make you my heir.’

‘Honest, papa. I mean what I say. There is nothing more for you to do. Nothing more I want from you. I am where I want to be. I don’t need to be a semi-millionaire. Your family has every right to their property.’

‘But Dusty, I want to be certain that you know I’m tied by my father’s will. His property and money came to me on condition it goes to Dinshaw after my…Why won’t you let me use the dreaded word?’

‘Because I’m not ready for it.’

‘Still, the will doesn’t apply to my current bank account. I’ve been putting my salary and my pension into it. All that will be yours. Enough to see you through University. Jones promised …’

‘No. No more Jones. I’ve done my bit. I became a Christian because he pressed me to. I was eight and I felt the weight of obligation. He’s another one for hugging and petting. Pa, you know, what I mean?’

‘Sit down Dusty. Draw that chair. I’ll lie back and stretch, if I may. The trouble with you Dusty, my boy, is that you’re far too attractive. I had hoped that with the passing years, you would have grown to be less so.’

‘But
you
, you didn’t make a…I can’t think of the right word.’

Sam laughed. ‘I’m no saint, but sexual desire has never been an abiding interest. Sheer laziness on my part. Why do you think my wife left me? Sex, dear old chap, as Henry James wrote somewhere, is overrated.’

‘You’re far too refined. It’s what I like about you. You have surrounded yourself with beautiful things and rare and precious books. People come second. That’s how I would like to be, pa.’

‘Then begin by calling me Sam. It’s far too early to make up your mind. My style of living comes when you’ve had a few set-backs in life, and I wouldn’t wish those on you. I hope you may meet someone who’ll make you think differently. Don’t look at me as if I’m some curiosity. Make no mistake. I did and do find you attractive. But it’s always been your obvious intelligence and phenomenal memory that fascinates me…I also knew at once you would not have stayed with me if I’d made a pass.’

‘That’s the word I was looking for!’

‘And, I was going on to say, you had, even nine years ago, an uncanny instinct to see and avoid that kind of sexual attention.’

‘Much of that wisdom I owe to Asif. I realise now that he may have learned it the hard way. I was lucky, as a boy, to get the care and attention of women.’

‘Anyway, it’s against the law. I had my social status to consider. I wasn’t going to expose myself to a crime for which I could be blackmailed.’

Dusty took a deep breath. ‘Sam, you’re the best and the most beautiful man in the world. You deserve to be loved.’

‘I am. Loved I mean. By you, I hope and, if you must know, Muriel Sharp. You remember Miss Sharp?’

‘My physics teacher? Yes. That was sudden; her leaving, I mean.’

‘She retired too. Muriel’s my age, though you may not believe it. She lives in Scotland. The Isle of Bute. We write to each other, fairly regularly. I’m surprised you did not ask, because you noted the foreign stamps.’

‘I try to emulate your English reserve.’

Sam chuckled. ‘Did you know, India is full of Anglophiles. Actually, the whole Parsee community decided to adopt the English style of Western culture.’

‘I know. Wasn’t the first Indian member of the British Parliament a Parsee?’

‘Yes, but that does not mean they had a slavish attitude towards the British Raj. Many champions of Indian Independence were Parsees.’

‘Why didn’t you marry her? I hope I wasn’t in the way?’

Sam gaped. ‘You gave me a start. Me? Marry? What are you talking about?’

‘Sorry. Muriel Sharp. She’s not married, is she? Miss?’

Sam laughed. ‘No, no. It’s wasn’t and isn’t that kind of friendship.’

‘Don’t you want to see her?’

‘We like writing. Very platonic and literary. That is too good to lose.’

‘But I don’t see the point. All that time and effort? Such a waste…unless you plan to publish the letters, one day.’

‘You’re much too sharp and clever for your age. I’ve thought of that. It could make fascinating reading:
Letters of a Parsee Gentleman to an English Lady.
But there won’t be sufficient time for that enterprise. She has promised to do me a big favour.’ Sam slowly and painfully sat up. ‘You see, I want to be cremated. The thought of being consigned to a Tower of Silence gives me the shivers. I’ve never been a good Parsee. Cambridge, and travels in Italy, changed all that. And I’ve spent many years in a Church school. I know more about Christianity than most practising Christians. Muriel’s promised she’d see to it. So when the last days are approaching, I’ll go to her. You must see that I get there—I am a British citizen. But if, for any or whatever reason I can’t make it on my own, promise you’ll get me there. It means a lot to me. I’ve friends at the High Commission. They’ll see that you get a visitor’s permit. She’ll keep the ashes or you can bring them back. I don’t care what either of you choose to do with them. Promise?’