The Death of Vishnu

But the engine gathered speed, and the compartments started whizzing by, and she wasn’t even able to tell which compartment had been theirs. For a second, she was struck with panic at having left her luggage in the train, before remembering she wasn’t traveling with any. Then thick, dark smoke started billowing out of the engine, the compartments disappeared one by one into a tunnel, and the only sign remaining of the train was the acrid taste left behind in the air.
    Now here she was, back at her building again. She couldn’t believe it had been only fourteen hours since she had left. The question was, how was she going to explain that absence to her parents?
    And more important, how was she going to explain her decision to them? Her decision not to marry Salim or Pran.
    No, she was going to become a film star. A heroine. A glamour queen. No one man could hope to possess her, only long after her on the screen. Her life would be one of the fabulous ones she read about in Stardust , in Filmfare .
    “Kavita memsahib? You?” she suddenly heard. She looked up to see the cigarettewalla gaping at her as she passed by his shop.
    “Of course it’s me. Whom were you expecting? Meena Kumari?” Kavita said, as she began mounting the steps.

    T HE POLICE INSPECTOR stared at Mrs. Asrani.
    “You mean you’ve been here all day, and you haven’t heard a thing?”
    “No,” Mrs. Asrani said, and winced because it came out more forcefully than she had wanted. The trick was to just say it without any sign of nervousness. “No,” she said again, more calmly this time, “I’ve been watching the cricket test match on TV since morning.”
    “So you don’t know, for instance, that Mrs. Jalal was taken to the hospital in a coma, or that Mr. Jalal broke both legs from a fall into your courtyard?” The inspector emphasized the word “your.”
    “Are they okay?” Now Mrs. Asrani’s voice carried neighborly concern, the precise amount that would behoove someone living one floor down.
    “Mr. Jalal—he’ll live,” the inspector said. “But his wife—we don’t know yet how serious it is.”
    “That’s terrible.” Mrs. Asrani felt guilty about all the ill will she had directed towards Mrs. Jalal. She hoped none of this would boomerang back on her. She had not asked for this, she silently reminded whoever or whatever might be listening—even a bruise here or there would have sufficed as far as she had been concerned.
    “Where is your daughter, Mrs. Asrani?”
    “She’s asleep. Why?”
    “Not a cricket fan, I see.”
    “Only when certain cricketeers are playing.”
    “Could you wake her up, please?”
    “Is that really necessary? She’s only a child.”
    “I understand she’s—” The inspector consulted his notes. “I understand she’s eighteen and a half. Do you consider that a child?”
    Mrs. Asrani tried to peer into the inspector’s notebook, to see what else was written there, but the inspector shielded his book and looked at her sternly.
    “I’ll go get my daughter.”
    Kavita was sitting in her room, her face ashen, when Mrs. Asrani unlocked the door and walked in.
    “You can’t keep me prisoner here. I’m an adult now. I’ll tell the inspector. I won’t be forced into marrying Pran. I’ve already told you I want to become a film star. Why don’t you listen to me? Why don’t you ever let me do what I want?”
    “Now look here, you disobedient girl. You’re in a lot of trouble already. Mr. Jalal tried to kill Mrs. Jalal because you ran away with his son. Then he tried to commit suicide himself. Almost succeeded. And all because of you . Whom are you going to kill next with your waywardness, your mother and father?”
    Kavita started sobbing.
    “You listen to me now. If you don’t want to end up in jail. If you ever want to be able to show your face outside again. You tell the inspector you were here last night. All of last night. It’s what the cigarettewalla and the paanwalla have already said. They’re doing their best to stop the scandal from spreading. For our sake. For your sake. And remember, you don’t know anything about the Jalals. Understand?”
    “But I wasn’t here. I was with Salim. He’ll tell them that when he comes back, when they ask him. We’ll be in trouble—the police will come and arrest us.”
    “What will they do, arrest the whole building? What is the word of one Salim-valim, compared to all of us put together? Whom do you think they’re going to