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

he car parked outside my grandfather's house. The old ones retrieved their
brutalized receptacle and began to knock it back into shape.
'Now that I'm getting married,' Emerald told Mumtaz, 'it'll be very rude of
you if you don't even try to have a good time. And you should be giving me a
dvice and everything.' At the time, although Mumtaz smiled at her younger si
ster, she had thought it a great cheek on Emerald's part to say this; and, u
nintentionally perhaps, had increased the pressure of the pencil with which
she was applying henna tracery to the soles of her sister's feet. 'Hey!' Eme
rald squealed, 'No need to get mad! I just thought we should try to be friends.'
Relations between the sisters had been somewhat strained since Nadir Khan'
s disappearance; and Mumtaz hadn't liked it when Major Zulfikar (who had c
hosen not to charge my grandfather with harbouring a wanted man, and squar
ed it with Brigadier Dodson) asked for, and received, permission to marry
Emerald. 'It's like blackmail,' she thought. 'And anyway, what about Alia?
The eldest shouldn't be married last, and look how patient she's been wit
h her merchant fellow.' But she said nothing, and smiled her forebearing s
mile, and devoted her gift of assiduity to the wedding preparations, and a
greed to try and have a good time; while Alia went on waiting for Ahmed Si
nai. ('She'll wait forever,' Padma guesses: correctly.)
January 1946. Marquees, sweetmeats, guests, songs, fainting bride, stiff a
t attention groom: a beautiful wedding… at which the leather cloth merchan
t, Ahmed Sinai, found himself deep in conversation with the newly divorced
Mumtaz. 'You love children? what a coincidence, so do I…' 'And you didn't
have any, poor girl? Well, matter of fact, my wife couldn't…' 'Oh, no; ho
w sad for you; and she must have been bad tempered like anything!''… Oh, l
ike hell… excuse me. Strength of emotions carried me away.'' Quite all rig
ht; don't think about it. Did she throw dishes and all?' 'Did she throw? I
n one month we had to eat out of newspaper!' 'No, my goodness, what whoppe
rs you tell!' 'Oh, it's no good, you're too clever for me. But she did thr
ow dishes all the same.' 'You poor, poor man.' 'No you. Poor, poor you.' A
nd thinking: 'Such a charming chap, with Alia he always looked so bored…'
And,'… This girl, I never looked at her, but my goodness me…' And,'… You c
an tell he loves children; and for that I could…' And,'… Well, never mind
about the skin…' It was noticeable that, when it was time to sing, Mumtaz
found the spirit to join in all the songs; but Alia remained silent. She h
ad been bruised even more badly than her father in Jallianwala Bagh; and y
ou couldn't see a mark on her.
'So, gloomy sis, you managed to enjoy yourself after all.'
In June that year, Mumtaz re married. Her sister taking her cue from their
mother would not speak to her until, just before they both died, she saw he
r chance of revenge. Aadam Aziz and Reverend Mother tried, unsuccessfully,