Free Banquet on the Dead by Sharath Komarraju Page B

wondered if he should point this out to the lady, however gently, just to establish who was in control, but Hamid Pasha did not let him.
    ‘Thank you very, very much, behen,’ he said, bowing in an exaggerated manner, and turning to Nagarajan, he said, ‘Shall we?’
    Nagarajan cleared his throat. ‘Madam, could you give us an account of what happened that morning, as closely detailed as you can remember? We will then ask questions on any matters that we’re not clear on.’
    She nodded slowly. ‘It was just like any other day. I woke up at five, as I usually do. Mother was sick the previous night. She did not join me in the tulsi pooja like she daily used to. After I finished my prayers I went into the kitchen and started making breakfast for the family.’
    ‘And where,’ Hamid Pasha asked, ‘was your daughter at this time?’
    ‘Karuna? Karuna did not arrive until the evening, after we had—we had—’ Another catch in the throat, another thin quiver of the lips.
    ‘Ah, please go on.’
    I started making breakfast with Gauri, Ellayya’s wife. She generally comes to the house early in the morning, around six. At the same time I saw Mother go into her room—I think she had visited the bathroom. At seven we served breakfast. Then I saw Swami come out of Mother’s room.’ She looked at them both.
    Nagarajan asked, ‘But you did not see him go in?’
    ‘No, I was just setting the table, so I was in and out of the kitchen a few times. One of those times I came to the dining table, carrying plates in both my hands, and I saw him come out of the room—and he saw me looking at him.’
    Hamid Pasha smiled.
    She continued, ‘We just stood there, looking at one another. I remember his face was a bit pale—like he had not had much sleep or something.’
    ‘Did he give you any explanation, madam, for why he was in his mother’s room?’
    ‘Well,’ said Prameela, ‘he didn’t have to. After all, we all go in and out of Mother’s room quite freely. I only remember this day because—well—anyway, he did mumble something about chlorine bags and walked away.’
    ‘Chlorine bags?’
    ‘Yes, you know, for the well. We have to treat the water every now and then with chlorine to make sure it doesn’t go bad.’
    ‘And the chlorine bags were put in your mother’s room?’
    She nodded. ‘Mother’s room is big, and it has a small attached storeroom to it. Swami usually has the chlorine bags put in there every time we need to clean the well.’
    Hamid Pasha leaned forward. ‘And the smell, behen? Chlorine has a strong smell, does it not? Did it not bother your mother?’
    ‘Oh, I know what you mean about the smell! But no, I have never heard her complain about it, no,’ she said, twisting her hands. ‘But on this day she was complaining about it all morning. As I said, bhaisaab, she had been sick, and she was a cranky one when she was sick.’
    ‘Ah, she wanted the chlorine bags removed, did she?’
    ‘Yes, and Swami asked her to put up with them for just an hour or two longer, because he was going to use them to treat the water in the well that day. And I heard Mother mutter away all morning—she really did get cranky when she was sick.’
    ‘Did you see your mother during breakfast?’
    ‘She wanted breakfast to be brought to her room. Swami took it to her, and brought out the empty plates. That must have been around eight. Then he joined me for breakfast. By the time we were all finished it must have been—let me see—half-past-nine?
    ‘I was in the kitchen for the next one hour or so, bhaisaab, and then I went up to Kotesh’s part of the house. My grandson called me to play chess with him, so I went there. I was with him until half-past-twelve, and then I went to sleep in one of their rooms.’
    ‘You did not have lunch, behen?’
    She shook her head. ‘I don’t have lunch generally. I only have breakfast and dinner. I prefer to sleep in the afternoons.’
    ‘So you would not happen to know