The Cambridge Curry Club Read Free

saw it. You should at least have shown it to me. I love dolls; I used to buy so many. Heera, such good things have started disappearing from the shop: new video recorder, antique brooch, necklace, watches, camera. And tell me, what is the thief going to do with my reading glasses from Vision Express? Why did he steal them? Can it be he has the same prescription ?’ demanded Swarnakumari.
    ‘One can only speculate, Swarna. Why don’t you arrange the teddy, the blond wig, whip and knickers in the window? We could pull in a few more customers that way. And where’s that magazine we got the other day, Heera? It could go into the display, too,’ suggested Durga. ‘It had a double-spread of a punk hunk who was once a monk.’
    ‘I threw it out,’ said Heera curtly.
    ‘Fascinating, isn’t it? The monk became a gay hunk. Maybe the pay was better,’ continued Durga.
    Swarnakumari was curious. ‘What private talk is going on?’
    ‘It’s about a gay magazine. And don’t pretend you don’t know what that is,’ teased Durga.
    ‘Of course I know about these things. So unnatural, but anyway, thank God this problem is not there in good Indian families.’ A practised angler, Swarnakumari fished in the black bag. ‘Look, a fur coat. Fur. Can it be real?’
    Eileen gave the coat a brief examination. ‘Fake.’
    Swarnakumari continued as she found a hanger for the coat, ‘So many people have so many problems in this world; look at these poor villagers in Rajasthan for whom we are raising money. They have no running water, no electricity. Guru Ma says we must always remember there are many more who have much less.’
    Durga mused, ‘My former supervisor here in Cambridge was gay, and he had more than most. Termtime tutorial visits were only between one and three in the afternoons. Whenever I left at three, I saw a Lebanese student bounding up the stairs for “happy hour”. And I could tell you a story or two about the Formal Hall dinners. Some female students at the tables wore more or less nothing under their gowns. You might say those who had less had much more.’
    Swarnakumari looked shocked as Heera asked, ‘Really? I always wondered what went on behind those college gatehouses. What’s a Formal Hall dinner?’
    ‘College dinner in an echoing hall a few times during term. Stern portraits on the walls. Sherry in the Fellows’ Drawing Room. Grace in Latin followed bydinner of warmed tart of broccoli and red onion topped with Emmental and watercress, escalopes of beef, dauphinois potatoes, apple and cinnamon flan with vanilla ice cream, finishing with coffee and Cambridge mints. Everyone waits until High Table departs, and then the fun begins.’
    There was the sound of a drill. Heavy boots crossed the floor overhead.
    ‘There he goes again,’ cried Heera in irritation. ‘Vroom vroom. One of these days, I am going to ask that man what he is doing in the room upstairs.’
    ‘Perhaps he could use the blond wig and whip?’ suggested Durga.
    ‘Who?’ asked Swarnakumari.
    ‘The man upstairs, who else could we mean?’ replied Heera.
    ‘What do you want to do with these crutches?’ demanded Eileen. ‘They were lying next to the same bag.’
    ‘Crutches and whip from the same donor? Which of the two gets a person walking faster?’ wondered Durga.
    ‘Heera, why should we keep these crutches in the shop? Can we not offer them to Ritu’s mother-in-law? You told me she has recently broken her leg,
na
,’ proposed Swarnakumari kindly.
    ‘Has she really broken her leg, or has her son broken her heart by marrying Ritu?’ Durga was intrigued. ‘Anyway, who is this ever-ready to beddy, teddy-wearing Ritu?’
    ‘She lives on Fendon Road. Her husband Raj always looks deep into her eyes. He squeezes her waist like a lemon all the time,’ sighed Heera wistfully.
    ‘Juicy stuff,’ was Durga’s comment.
    ‘How is it that they can always be so romantic, even after so many years? It must be all those dates they ate