Free A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry Page A

the way to the kitchen, then all the way to the wc, and then all the way back, going through all the rooms. Understood, Zarir?”
    “Okay,” said Zarir. Dina announced ready, get set, go. She opened the windows in the front room and read the letter. It stated that since the premises were no longer occupied, notice was hereby given for the flat to be emptied of its effects and the keys returned within thirty days.
    That night, when she showed the letter to Nusswan, he was livid. “Look at the shameless rascal of a landlord. Not even three months since poor Rustom passed away, and the snake is ready to strike. Nothing doing. You must keep the flat.”
    “Yes, I think I’ll go back there from next week,” she agreed.
    “That’s not what I meant. Stay here for a year, two years – as long as you like. But don’t give up your right. Mark my words, the time is not far-off when accommodation will be impossible to find in the city. An old flat like yours will be a gold mine.”
    “It’s true,” said Ruby. “I heard that Putli Maasi’s son had to pay a pugree of twenty thousand rupees just to get his foot in the door. And the rent is five hundred a month. His flat is even smaller than yours.”
    “Yes,” said Dina, “but my rent –”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll pay it,” said Nusswan. “And my lawyer will reply to this letter.”
    He was thinking ahead: sooner or later Dina would remarry. At that juncture, it would be very unfortunate if the lack of a flat were to pose an impediment. He definitely would not want the couple living with him. That would be a blueprint for friction and strife.
    O n Rustom’s first death anniversary, Nusswan took the morning off from work. The previous day, he had written notes to Xerxes’ school and Zarir’s kindergarten that they would be “absent in order to attend their late uncle’s prayers at the fire-temple.” Dina was grateful for the entire family’s presence.
    “Hard to imagine,” said Nusswan when they got back home, “a whole year has gone by. How time flies.”
    A few days later he formally signalled an end to the mourning period by inviting some friends to tea.
    Among them were Porus and Solly, two of the many eligible bachelors whom he had strenuously recommended to Dina a few years ago. The two were still single, and still quite eligible, according to Nusswan, if one were willing to forgive minor flaws like incipient potbellies and greying hair.
    Priding himself on his subtlety, he said to Dina in private, “You know, either Porus or Solly would jump at the chance to become your husband. Porus’s law practice is flourishing beyond belief. And Solly is now a full partner in the accounting firm. They would have no problem that you are a widow.”
    “How kind of them.”
    He did not like the sarcasm. It was a reminder of the old Dina – the stubborn, insolent, defiant sister, who he assumed had been transformed into a better person. But he swallowed and continued calmly.
    “You know, Dina, I am very impressed with you. No one can accuse you of being frivolous in mourning. You have acted so correctly, so perfectly, this whole year.”
    “I was not acting. And it was not difficult.”
    “I know, I know,” he said hastily, regretting his choice of words. “What I meant was, I admire your dignity. But the point is, you are still so young. It has been over a year, and you must think of your future.”
    “Don’t worry, I understand your concern.”
    “Good, that’s all I wanted to say. Come on, time for cards. Ruby!” he called to the kitchen. “Time for rummy!” Now there would be progress, Nusswan was certain.
    Over the next few weeks he continued to invite the old assortment of bachelors. “Come, Dina,” he would say, “let me introduce you.” Then, pretending a memory lapse, he would exclaim, “Wait, wait, what am I saying, where is my head? You already know Temton. So let it be a reintroduction.”
    All this was enacted in a manner suggesting