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720 pages, Hardcover
First published October 4, 2007
"I know!" said Jehangir. "That's the one Burjor Uncle lost and thought that I..."
Mrs. Mody squeezed his arm which she was still holding and he fell silent. She spoke softly, but without guilt: "He did not lose it. I destroyed it." Then her eyes went moist as she watched the disbelief on his face. She wanted to say more, to explain, but could not, and clung to his arm. Finally, her voice quavering pitiably, she managed to say, "Forgive an old lady," and patted his cheek. Jehangir left in silence, suddenly feeling very ashamed.
Roth had long since given up on making sense of the many laws that were to govern his life and his behaviour. These things had been drummed into him as a child, which was part of the reason he had strayed, although straying from orthodoxy to conservativism was a deviation on the order of dark rye to light.
She wanted to tell him that she too had been gone, that she had been exploring, lost, in a wild, violent country, that she had narrowly escaped, that she had had to tear herself away, lest the swamps and bogs and blackness claim her forever.
Over all the months of separation her voice had changed, or his way of hearing it had. Coming out of the void, how false, how insincere it sounded, how actressy. It struck Ray that the owner of such a voice might not know all there was to know. Something more had passed between him and his father, borne on his dead brother's train, than a mere exchange of drinks and loose chang. What, was for him to decide.
Amma acts like she did not hear me and asks Jhoomri again, “Well Jhoomri, what is wrong with Mungroo?”
A great big smile spreads across Jhoomri's face, “Bibi-ji, he has a hairy nose,” she says.
Amma frowns at her, “You still behave like a child, girl, and about to get married too.”
“No Bibi-ji, I am no longer a child, am I?” says Jhoomri.
Amma pats her on the shoulder and says, “Don't worry, you'll be happy, you'll learn how to be happy with Mungroo.”
“Yes,” says Jhoomri.
“And your window?” I ask, totally confused now. How can Jhoomri be happy about marrying Mungroo? “Will you be getting your pink window today Jhoomri?”
“What will I do with a window now, child?” asks Jhoomri. And all of a sudden she sounds just like my mother.
He had always had great reserves of politeness, consideration, and forbearance, which were fatally combined with a desire to be liked, and so he had never been able to dismiss someone out of hand or offend them even when he knew it would have served their interests even more than his if they were to never meet again.
Sometimes what Marion thinks is simply that she's lucky to have such an easy life. “Karma” some of their friends used to call it, hanging out at the farm, smoking black hash, letting the boys run naked through the fields.
Other times she knows damn well it's because of Carl and their double income, her education, her parents' double income even, everything that's made her luck possible. Political, not spiritual, and she should damn well face up to what that means. Whatever that means.
Sometimes she just doesn't know, and it scares her.
I couldn't understand why she'd chosen to do what she'd done—why she'd turned herself into this listless, bloated version of herself, thus changing the future—my future—into something shadow-filled and uncertain. I thought she'd done it on purpose. It didn't occur to me that she might have been ambushed.
The identity of the partner in the sins of which Constance was suspected by the court gossips was a subject of endless discussion. A multitude of theories was advanced, factions developed, and the probability of each candidate for her affections was debated hotly and with utter frankness. . . .
Evidence was collected by every imaginable means. Servants were threatened, bribed, beaten. Patrols were organized along the ramparts so that Constance's windows could be constantly observed. Informing, eavesdropping, and spying became as prevalent in the palace as gossip had always been. This diligence was rewarded by the exposure of a score of entertaining scandals, but none of them involved Thibault's wife.