The Pleasure Seekers by Tishani Doshi Read Free Book Online Page A

detail the whole Falguni story. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but you chose her too, didn’t you?’
    ‘Yes, yes,’ Babo snapped. ‘But that was a long time ago and so very different from anything I feel for you. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to go about this. What I’m supposed to tell my parents and when, and how. I don’t want that idiot cousin of mine blurting out anything before I get the chance to say anything to them directly. They’ll be disappointed, of course, but they’ll see when they meet you, they’ll see how wonderful you are, and how right we are together, and in the end, I’m sure it’s only my happiness they’ll think about. I love you so much, my Welsh Valley Girl. I love you. Never doubt that.’
    ‘Well, if that’s the case,’ Siân snapped, ‘I suggest you write a letter to your parents explaining the situation. It’s only right.’
    But before Babo got around to writing the letter, Prem Kumar’s telegram arrived.
    Nat and Lila had correctly surmised that 2+2 in this situation added up to 10. It was Lila’s idea to send the warning telegram.
    ‘It’s our duty, Natvar,’ she said to her husband, who thought Babo was quite right to get some of this young-blood thing out of his system before having to go home and carry out the inevitable.
    ‘Let it be, Lila. It will work itself out. It will fizzle like a faulty firecracker. They are from different worlds. East is East and West is West and never the twain shall meet. Why should we involve ourselves?’
    ‘Don’t East is East faulty firecracker me! I’m going to send a warning to Trishala-behn because I couldn’t bear it if we were accused later of failing in our duty.’
    ‘Oh, duty-shmooty,’ Nat muttered. ‘Fine, you send it. Do your duty and then come and rub your husband’s legs. That’s your duty as well.’
     
    Nat was the first person Babo telephoned when he got his father’s telegram. ‘Nat, I have to go home. Ma isn’t well. I got a telegram from Papa today but he doesn’t say anything about her condition except that it’s serious and I’m to go home as soon as possible.’
    ‘What? What do you mean, “condition”? You mean to say Trishala-behn is sick?’
    ‘Yes,’ shouted Babo impatiently. ‘It’s serious. Papa doesn’t say what it is or how serious it is, but only that I’m to come home right away.’
    ‘Arre, relax, Babo. I’m sure it’ll be OK,’ said Nat, in that too-nonchalant way of his that so irritated Babo. ‘Bapuji is probably overreacting, but anyway, we should arrange a ticket for you right away. Shall I call my friend Somnath, who works for Air India? He can try to get a good ticket for you. Do you want me to do that?’
    Later that evening, Babo skipped his class at the Polytechnic for the very first time and went straight home with Siân after work. ‘It’s always the fear, you know?’ Babo whispered as they lay in bed together. ‘That something will happen when you’re far away. Don’t you worry about it? That something bad will happen to your family when you’re too far away to do anything about it?’
    ‘There’s no point beating yourself up about it, my love,’ Siân said, stroking the taut brown canvas of Babo’s back. ‘You’ll just have to wait till you get home and see how things are then. Don’t worry about me, darling. We’ve got our whole lives to go travelling together. You just get home soon and be with your family. They need you now.’

4  Sad to Say I’m on My Way
    Babo’s departure from London was as unobtrusive as his arrival. When he left, it was on a day of pouring rain. There were no photographs, no garlands. There was only Siân in corduroy bell-bottoms and a rust orange shirt, her small rounded breasts heaving against the wall of his chest, her bony shoulders and arms flung around his tangle of curls.
    ‘Here,’ Babo said, pushing a bottle of Chanel No. 5, which he hadn’t had time to wrap, into Siân’s hands. ‘I wanted to