21
I
N THE DYING LIGHT
of the day, in front of Hanamkonda Police Station, by a black Rajdoot, Inspector Nagarajan and Hamid Pasha shook hands.
‘The net is cast for tomorrow,’ said the Inspector.
‘Good, miyan. Good. Are you going to stay true to the bargain you offered the brothers? That you would let them go if they led you to the peddlars?’
‘I have not yet decided. But thank you—once again.’
Hamid Pasha beamed. ‘No, miyan, thank
you.
Life becomes so monotonous without these things. It is regrettable that they happen, of course, but sometimes, when they do, a small part of you is thankful. The mind goes numb when one does nothing but chop vegetables for one’s begum all day, miyan.’
Nagarajan said, ‘What is going to happen with the doctor and his wife?’
‘Oh, nothing. I had a small conversation with them before we left. I think they will be just fine. They will be getting out of the house soon, which is the best thing that can happen to them, I think. There is a little bit of hurt, I think, especially on the doctor’s part, because his wife did not trust him enough to tell him what was going on, but that is quite common, is it not, miyan? Women never tell us what is going on.’
‘And the servants?’
‘Oh, the servants will stay as long as there is someone at the house. Even if you did take Venkataramana and Raja into custody, there would always be someone at the house to serve the new inhabitants, hain? Even if you arrested all the men in the house, I suppose the women would still stay on.’
Nagarajan nodded. Then he said, ‘Listen, if I came across this afternoon as a little too sure of myself—’
‘Oh, miyan, none of
that
between us. I think we were both solving different problems right from the start. For me, Venkataramana’s fields and his property held no interest whatsoever, whereas for you that took up all your time. I gave more importance to the
small
details while you followed up, in your usual diligent fashion, on the big ones. You took care of all the surrounding mysteries, which made my path very clear. So do not underestimate your value, miyan. You are
invaluable
, masha Allah.’
‘It has been a long day for you, Hamid bhai. Shall I drop you to your place?’
‘Oh, no, miyan,’ said Hamid Pasha. ‘I will take an auto. I do not want you to be sucked alive by the mosquitoes that devour us at home. As for me, I am used to it now. They seem to me almost like love-bites, you know.’
‘Are you sure you’ll manage?’
Hamid Pasha stepped aside and signalled to an auto, waving his other arm back at the Inspector. After a little haggling he got into the vehicle. Nagarajan followed him and placed a fifty-rupee note in the auto-driver’s hands. He removed his cap and leant so he could see the old man better.
‘Goodbye, Hamid bhai. Until next time.’
‘Khuda hafeez, miyan. And next time, make sure you do
not
come to me as a messenger of death. Hain?’
Nagarajan took a step back, and the auto whirled around to join the traffic. Soon it disappeared, heading towards Chowrastha. Nagarajan stood there looking after it for a while, then turned and walked back into his station.