Free Heat and Dust by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala

reservoir by the wayside. Here Inder Lal’s mother showed me a cluster of little shrines under some trees: they were not much bigger than mile-stones, though some of them had little domes on top. There were crude figures scratched hair-thin into the stone: presumably the husband with the faithful wife who had burned herself with him. They gave me an eerie feeling, but Inder Lal’s mother devoutly joined her hands before the shrines. She decorated one of them with a little string of roses and marigolds she had brought. She told me that, on certain days of the year, she and her friends come with sweets, milk, and flowers to worship these widows who have made the highest sacrifice. She sounded really respectful and seemed to have the greatest reverence for that ancient custom. She even seemed regretful – this merry widow! – that it had been discontinued (it was outlawed in 1829). She showed me the shrine of the last suttee, which of course I knew about as it had taken place during Olivia’s time. Although this shrine only dates back to 1923, it looks as age-old as the others.
    1923
    It had happened when Mr. Crawford was away on tour and Douglas on his own in charge of the district. A grain merchant had died and his widow had been forced by her relatives to burn herself with him on his funeral pyre. Although Douglas had rushed to the scene the moment information reached him, he had arrived too late to save the woman. All he could still do was arrest the main instigators who were her sons, brothers-in-law, and a priest. Everyonepraised Douglas for the calm and competent way he had handled the situation. Even the Nawab made a point of congratulating him – though Douglas received those congratulations rather coldly. But the Nawab did not notice or, if he did, was not put out.
    Olivia had still not told Douglas about the Nawab’s picnic; nor about the Nawab’s subsequent visits – he came almost every second or third day now, usually with all his companions. Not that she didn’t want to tell Douglas – of course she did! – but he was always home so late and then with so many preoccupations of his own, she never seemed to have an opportunity to tell him. However, one day the Nawab lingered on till Douglas’ arrival home. He must have deliberately planned to do so because that day he had left all his young men behind. If Olivia was nervous about this meeting, she need not have been because the Nawab handled it perfectly. He sprang to his feet to receive Douglas and held out his hand in hearty English greeting. It was as if he were the host and this his house in which it was his duty to make Douglas welcome. He said at once that his purpose in driving over that day was to congratulate Douglas on his prompt action. When Douglas, cool and deprecating, said he wished he had been prompt enough to get there before rather than after the event, the Nawab shrugged in commiseration:
    â€œWhat is to be done, Mr. Rivers. These people will never learn. Whatever we do, they will still cling to their barbaric customs. But, Mr. Rivers, what praise there is for you everywhere! On your conduct of this miserable affair, all speak as one.”
    â€œYou are misinformed,” Douglas said. “There’s been a lot of murmuring. It seems my prisoners – the unfortunate woman’s relatives – are in some quarters regarded asmartyrs. We even had a bit of trouble outside the jail today.” He gave Olivia a quick, sharp look: “You are not to worry. Nothing we couldn’t easily handle.”
    â€œOf course you need not at all worry, Mrs. Rivers!” the Nawab likewise assured her. “Where Mr. Rivers is, there is firm control and strong action. As there must be. Otherwise these people cannot be managed at all. All must be grateful to you, Mr. Rivers, for your strong hand,” he said, looking at Douglas man-to-man and not seeming to notice that Douglas did not look