A Fine Balance Read Free

outside.”
    The conditions were acceptable. “What is the address of your shop?” asked Ishvar. “Where do we bring the sewing-machines?”
    “Right here. When you come next week, I will show you where to put them, in the back room.”
    “Okayji, thank you, we will definitely come on Monday.” They waved to Maneck as they left. “We will see you again soon, hanh.”
    “Sure,” said Maneck, waving back. Noticing Dina Dalai’s silent inquiry, he explained about their meeting on the train.
    “You must be careful who you talk to,” she said. “Never know what kind of crooks you might run into. This is not your little hamlet in the mountains.”
    “They seemed very nice.”
    “Hmm, yes,” she said, reserving judgement. Then she apologized again for assuming he was a tailor. “I could not see you properly because you were standing behind them, my eyes are weak.” How silly of me, she thought, mistaking this lovely boy for a bowlegged tailor. And so sturdy too. Must be the famous mountain air they talk about, the healthy food and water.
    She peered a little closer, tilting her head to one side. “It has been over twenty years, but I can recognize your mummy in your face. You know Aban and I were in school together.”
    “Yes,” he said, uncomfortable under her intense scrutiny. “Mummy told me in her letter. She also wanted to let you know I’ll move in from next month, and she’ll mail you the rent cheque.”
    “Yes, yes, that’s all right,” she said, dismissing his concern about the details and drifting again into the past. “Real little terrors we used to be in our school-days. And a third girl, Zenobia. When we three were together, it was trouble with a capital t, the teachers would say.” The memory brought a wistful smile to her face. “Anyway, let me show you my house, and your room.”
    “You live here as well?”
    “Where else?” As she led him through the dingy little flat, she asked what he was taking at college.
    “Refrigeration and air-conditioning.”
    “I hope you will do something about this hot weather then, make my home more comfortable.”
    He smiled feebly, saddened by the place in which she resided. Not much better than the college hostel, he thought. And yet, he was looking forward to it. Anything would do, after what had happened there. He shuddered and tried to think of something else.
    “This one will be your room.”
    “It’s very nice. Thank you, Mrs. Dalai.”
    There was a cupboard in one corner with a scratched, misshapen suitcase on top. A small desk stood beside the cupboard. Here, as in the front room, the ceiling was dark and flaking, the walls discoloured, missing chunks of plaster in several places. Other stark patches, recently cemented, stood out like freshly healed wounds. Two single beds lay at right angles along the walls. He wondered if she would sleep in the same room.
    “I will move one bed into the other room for myself.”
    He looked through the door beyond and glimpsed a room tinier and in worse condition, crowded by a cupboard (also with a suitcase on top), a rickety table, two chairs, and three rusting trunks stacked on a trestle.
    “I am turning you out of your own room,” mumbled Maneck, the surroundings depressing him rapidly.
    “Don’t be silly.” Her tone was brisk. “I wanted a paying guest, and it is my great good luck to get a nice Parsi boy – the son of my school-friend.”
    “It’s very kind of you, Mrs. Dalai.”
    “And that’s another thing. You must call me Dina Aunty.”
    Maneck nodded.
    “You can bring your things here any time. If you are not happy with the hostel, this room is ready – we don’t have to wait for a special date next month.”
    “No, it’s all right, but thank you, Mrs. –”
    “Ahn, careful.”
    “I mean, Dina Aunty.” They smiled.
    When Maneck left her flat, she began pacing the room, suddenly restless, as though about to embark on a long voyage. No need now to visit her brother and beg for