The Way Things Were by Taseer Aatish

Author:Taseer, Aatish [Taseer, Aatish]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781447294115
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2014-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

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Later, when some had died, and others moved away, there were very few people willing to remember the 1st, as it had actually happened. An interim of some twelve hours, which though rounded off by despair on both sides, was for those hours a period of unashamed happiness. A small and irrational shoal of time, in which everyone present knew for those few moments a great feeling of joy and human warmth. So anomalous a memory was this, gnawed away at by tragedy on both sides, that in the minds of many it did not survive. It became a casualty of narrative. And those in whom the memory did not survive, those who would come to be persuaded it was chimera, later thought nothing of telling those in whom the memory remained that, ‘No, you are sadly mistaken: charming as this notion is, of a night of respite from the awfulness of that time, it is a child’s fantasy: 1984 was unremittingly awful.’

The mood that day began to change as soon as Toby arrived back at the flat, with his in-laws in tow. And it suddenly dawned on everyone that they were safe, all safe. Then came the first joke, once everyone was indoors and the doors were locked. Not so much a joke as an observation, but it made everyone laugh nonetheless. It was Isha who said, ‘But, Papa, you look so elegant!’

Everyone looked, and everyone saw it was true! The Brigadier was in a double-breasted blazer, with brass regimental buttons, beige trousers and, rising proudly out of a spotless white shirt, an emerald green scarf.

‘I say, sir!’ Viski exclaimed. ‘Well done!’

‘Thank you,’ the Brigadier said, with some embarrassment, and looking slyly at his wife, who was in her usual salwar kurta and sneakers, muttered, ‘Didn’t want to die looking like a rag, you know.’

Then, amid the laughter, Toby appeared out of nowhere – the pantry, it seemed – and said, ‘What will you have to drink, sir?’

The Brigadier looked at his watch and something occurred to him.

‘Isn’t it your birthday today, Raja saab?’

‘It is,’ Toby said.

A murmur of ‘Oh, Happy Birthday, Toby!’ went through the room. The children, frantic with excitement and finding themselves all together in the consoling presence of their grandparents, began to sing. And if, at first, an effort was made to stop them, it was quickly overruled. The Brigadier added to the mood by saying, ‘Well, in that case, I’ll have vodka. Lord knows, I deserve one.’

And soon there was vodka, then talk of a cake. Deep Fatehkotia – whose chocolate biscuit cakes were legendary – began asking her daughter if she had any Marie biscuits. Games of some kind had begun, unruly and rowdy ones, issuing from imaginations newly inspired by the morning’s events. There was something that involved hooping a hula-hoop around a victim. Which Rudrani, being the only girl, found she was made too often. A manic and ranging energy spread through the flat, making the time go by more quickly. The mood of the adults and children seemed to merge.

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