The Crow Eaters by Bapsi Sidhwa

Author:Bapsi Sidhwa [Sidhwa, Bapsi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2013-05-24T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 25

WHEN Faredoon Junglewalla, pioneer and adventurer, trotted into Lahore in his bullock-cart at the turn of the century, there were only thirty Parsis in the city of over a million Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs and Christians. Twenty years later the number of Parsis in Lahore had swelled to almost three hundred. Poor families had drifted in from Bombay and the area thereabouts to settle in the rich North Indian province, gratefully partaking of the bounty that was Lahore. And of course, original sons of the soil, of whom Freddy justifiably considered himself a member, had enormously proliferated.

Freddy was the undisputed head of this community. He was also spokesman and leader of the Parsis scattered over the rest of the Punjab and the North West Frontier Province right up to the Khyber Pass. Freddy’s willingness and ability to help, to give of his time, to intervene and intercede, were proverbial; his influence with men who wielded power was legendary. They said of him, ‘Oh, he has the police in his pocket.’ They boasted, ‘He has the English Sahibs tamed so that they eat out of his hand.’ And this was no mean accomplishment, for the aloof, disparaging and arrogant British rarely became pally with the ‘natives’.

Faredoon Junglewalla, toady, philanthropist and shrewd businessman, was renowned for his loyalty to his community and friends. People came from afar seeking his help in bagging prime jobs, securing licences, contracts, permits and favours. They travelled two thousand miles from Bombay, expecting Faredoon to extricate them from ‘tight spots’. As did Mr Adi Sodawalla, whose brother, Mr Polly Sodawalla, was languishing in a London jail.

Mr Adi Sodawalla, pale, timorous and pleading, sat across the desk from Faredoon presenting his case.

‘Tell me everything … every detail,’ insisted Faredoon.

Mr Adi Sodawalla related the facts honestly and humbly. He glanced every now and then at the heavy-lidded eyes that missed nothing, and drew courage from the benign and understanding expression on Freddy’s handsome face.

Mr Polly Sodawalla, the subject of his brother’s narrative, had voyaged to England with a suitcase full of illegal opium which he had airily sent away to be deposited in the ship’s hold with the rest of his luggage. On disembarking he was too worn out by landing formalities to clear and take along his possessions. Carrying only the suitcase he had had in his cabin, he went to refresh himself at a hotel in Earl’s Court. When he sauntered up to claim his luggage the next day, he discovered that one bag, dumped unceremoniously from place to place with the rest of his luggage, had split open, spilling its secret.

The reception committee of customs officers and policemen, patiently awaiting his return, welcomed him with flattering interest and marched him off to jail.

Interpol moved in. Mr Polly Sodawalla could look forward to a long sojourn in His Imperial Majesty’s prisons.

His brother, while relating the story to Freddy, had emphasised the freezing temperatures in dank English cells.

At the end of his tale he anxiously watched Freddy sit back in his swivel chair, fold his hands on his chest and tilt back his head to gaze at the ceiling.

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