Salman Rushdie Midnight's children Salman Rushdie Midnight's ...

for civil jail at last? Ismail Ibrahim's statement: 'We are going all the
way! To the Supreme Court!' And now, the bombshell. A pronouncement from th
e State Chief Minister himself: 'It is a heavy thing to make an exception t
o the law; but in view of Commander Sabarmati's service to his country, I a
m permitting him to remain in Naval confinement pending the Supreme Court d
ecision.'
And more press headlines, stinging as mosquitoes: state government
FLOUTS LAW! SABARMATI SCANDAL NOW A PUBLIC DISGRACE !… Whe
lized that the press had turned against the Commander, I knew he w
as done for.
The Supreme Court verdict: 'Guilty.'
Ismail Ibrahim said: 'Pardon! We appeal for pardon to the President of India!
'
And now great matters are to be weighed in Rashtrapati Bhavan behind the gat
es of President House, a man must decide if any man can be set above the law
; whether the assassination of a wife's fancy man should be set aside for th
e sake of a Naval career; and still higher things is India to give her appro
val to the rule of law, or to the ancient principle of the overriding primac
y of heroes? If Rama himself were alive, would we send him to prison for sla
ying the abductor of Sita? Great matters; my vengeful irruption into the his
tory of my age was certainly no trivial affair.
The President of India said, 'I shall not pardon this man.'
Nussie Ibrahim (whose husband had lost his biggest case) wailed, 'Hai! Ai hai
!' And repeated an earlier observation: 'Amina sister, that good man going to
prison I tell you, it is the end of the world!'
A confession, trembling just beyond my lips: 'It was all my doing, Amma; I
wanted to teach you a lesson. Amma, do not go to see other men, with Luck
now work on their shirt; enough, my mother, of teacup kissery! I am in lon
g trousers now, and may speak to you as a man.' But it never spilled out o
f me; there was no need, because I heard my mother answering a wrong numbe
r telephone call and with a strange, subdued voice, speak into the mouthpi
ece as follows: 'No; nobody by that name here; please believe what I am te
lling you, and never call me again.'
Yes, I had taught my mother a lesson; and after the Sabarmati affair she ne
ver saw her Nadir Qasim in the flesh, never again, not as long as she lived
; but, deprived of him, she fell victim to the fate of all women in our fam
ily, namely the curse of growing old before her time; she began to shrink,
and her hobble became more pronounced, and there was the emptiness of age i
n her eyes.
My revenge brought in its wake a number of unlooked for developments; per
haps the most dramatic of these was the appearance in the gardens of Meth