Tales From Firozsha Baag by Rohinton Mistry Read Free Book Online Page A

Francis by the arm and collar, signifying that this was their captive, no longer to be bashed around.
    In this manner they led Francis back to Firozsha Baag – past the tethered cow, past the
bunya’s
shop, past the overflowing gutters of Tar Gully. Every once in a while someone would punch Francis in the small of his back or on his head. But Percy would remind the crowd of the
bat
who had been robbed, whereupon the procession would resume in an orderly way.
    A crowd was waiting outside C Block. More neighbours had gathered, including the solitary Muslim tenant in Firozsha Baag, from the ground floor of B Block, and his Muslim servant. Both had a longstanding grudge against Francis over some incident with a prostitute, and were pleased at his predicament.
    Francis was brought before Najamai. He was in tears and his knees kept buckling. “Why, Francis?” asked Najamai. “Why?”
    Suddenly, a neighbour stepped out of the crowd and slapped him hard across the face: “You
budmaash!
You have no shame? Eating her food, earning money from her, then stealing from her, you rascal?”
    At the slap, the gathering started to move in for a fresh round of thrashing. But Najamai screamed and the crowd froze. Francis threw himself at her feet, weeping. “Bai,” he begged, “you hit me, you kick me, do whatever you want to me. But please don’t let them, please!”
    While he knelt before her, the Muslim servant saw his chance and moved swiftly. He swung his leg and kicked Francis powerfully in the ribs before the others could pull him away. Francis yelped like a dog and keeled over.Najamai was formally expressing her gratitude to Silloo. “How brave your two sons are. If they had not gone after that rogue I would never have seen my eighty rupees again. Say thanks to Percy and Kersi, God bless them, such fine boys.” Both of them pointedly ignored Tehmina who, by this time, had been established as the minor villain in the piece, for putting temptation in Francis’s path.
    Meanwhile, the crowd had dispersed. Tehmina was chatting with the Muslim neighbour. Having few friends in this building, he was endeavouring to ingratiate himself with her while she was still vulnerable, and before she recovered from C Block’s excommunication. By the light of the full moon he sympathized with her version of the episode.
    “Najamai knows my eyes are useless till these cataracts are removed. Yet she wants me to keep her keys, look after her flat.” The cloves ventured to her lips, agitated, but she expertly sucked them back to the safety of her cheeks. “How was I to know what Francis would do? If only I could have seen his eyes. It is always so dark in that hallway.” And the Muslim neighbour shook his head slowly, making clucking sounds with his tongue to show he understood perfectly.
    Back in her flat, Najamai chuckled as she pictured the two boys returning with Francis. “How silly they looked. Going after poor Francis with their big bats! As if he would ever have hurt them. Wonder what the police will do to him now.” She went into the kitchen, sniffing. A smell of ammonia was in the air and a pool of yellowish liquid stood where Francis had been hiding behind the kitchen door. She bent down, puzzled, and sniffed again, then realized he must have lost control of his bladder when she screamed.
    She mopped and cleaned up, planning to tell Silloo tomorrow of her discovery. She would also have to ask her to find someone to bring the rations next week. Maybe it was time to overcome her aversion to full-time servants and hire one who would live here, and cook and clean, and look after the flat. Someone who would also provide company for her, sometimes it felt so lonely being alone in the flat.
    Najamai finished in the kitchen. She went to the bedroom, lowered her weight into the easy chair and picked up the Boyces’ Sunday paper.
    Kersi was in the bathroom. He felt like throwing up, but returned to the bedroom after retching without success.