The Moneylenders of Shahpur. Helen Forrester
the idea of being the instrument by which such a wealthy alliance could be brought about; it would crown all her previous successful efforts on behalf of other relations. After this, all her female relations with children to marry off would crowd about her, begging her favours on behalf of their offspring. Her thin, hooked nose quivered at the anticipation of her future importance in the family.
She conveniently forgot the difference in caste. She thought only of the Desai bank balance and willingly became the mediator between the two fathers. Two other offers for Anasuyabehn from the parents of poverty-stricken scholars were left to die from neglect on her part.
When she first broached the subject, Dean Mehta looked up from his book, said flatly, ‘No,’ and returned to his studies.
Undeterred, she continued to sit in front of him, chewing her thumb. He again glanced up, and added, ‘I’ll advertise for a husband for her in early spring.’
‘The girl is already twenty-four years old.’
‘I know, I know,’ said the Dean testily, ‘but Desai is not a Mehta.’
‘He’s near enough,’ said his sister, ‘and he’s rich, healthy and in love with her. What more could we want in these changed times?’
‘Does Anasuyabehn know Mahadev?’ asked the Dean suspiciously. It would, he thought, be quite easy for her to carry on an intrigue without his knowledge – after all, she occasionally went shopping or to visit a friend by herself.
‘No,’ said Aunt decisively. ‘Someone would have seen her and told me, if she had ever spoken to him.’
The Dean sat silently at his desk for a few minutes, staring out of the heavily-barred window and idly twiddling his fountain pen. He reviewed carefully all he knew of the recent history of the Desais, the hints he had heard of their holdings in many new enterprises, their influence amongst Government officials, Mahadev’s travels. At last he said, ‘Discuss the Desais with Anasuyabehn. She’s old enough to be consulted.’
His sister hid her satisfaction at this reply, and merely said, ‘All right.’
Her bare feet made a soft brushing sound on the stone floor as she shuffled off to the kitchen, ostensibly to consult Anasuyabehn.
The Dean continued to think about the Desais. Except on grounds of caste, there could be no reasonable objection to the match, and for years he had been preaching that Jainism had originally been a revolt of the Kshatriya military caste against their overbearing Brahmin priests; there was no caste among the original Jains. Young Desai was reasonably educated, had a good, though old, house and was certainly rich; his trips to Europe would have broadened his outlook and, indeed, these days, the family seemed to be financiers and jewellers rather than orthodox moneylenders.
It was said that Mahadev’s father was ailing and his uncle was very old, so it would not be long before Mahadev became the head of his communal family. Further, in less than twelve months Dean Mehta would himself retire, and he dearly wished to give himself to a life of contemplation – to become a monk; he had for some years been quietly directing his life towards this goal by study, fasting, confession and the taking of those vows permitted to a layman. To have Anasuyabehn settled now might mean that he would see a grandchild before he severed all earthly relationships by taking his final vows.
He re-opened his book and composed his mind again for work.
‘We’ll see what Anasuyabehn has to say,’ he decided.
Aunt, meanwhile, had sat in a corner of the kitchen and helped to prepare vegetables, while she considered what to say to Anasuyabehn.
The kitchen was quite modern. It had a water tap and beneath it, on the floor, had been built a low, stone enclosure to confine the splashes from it and guide spilled water down the open drain. The walls were whitewashed and, on a built-in shelf, glittered the brass cooking utensils. A watercooler reposed on a stand in a corner near the casement window, and huge double doors, which led on to a veranda, stood open to let in the morning freshness before the real heat of the day began.
‘Take the new box of charcoal outside,’ Anasuyabehn said to her little servant, ‘and brush it.’
The boy picked up a small handbrush and the box and obediently went out into the compound, where he could be heard happily talking to a squirrel, as he gently went over each piece of charcoal with the brush to make sure that no insect was accidentally burned when the fire was lit.
Aunt seized the opportunity to say, ‘I saw Mahadev Desai this morning.’
‘He’s been away a long time,’ said Anasuyabehn. ‘I don’t suppose many people will be glad to see him. He drives even harder bargains than his elders, I’m told.’
She was sitting idly on her kitchen stool waiting for the boy to come in with the charcoal. A neat pile of prepared vegetables, flanked by a tin of cooking fat and her spice box lay on the well-scrubbed floor beside her. The empty charcoal stove was out on the veranda and soon the servant would light a cooking fire in it and bring it to her, carrying it gingerly with long pincers so that he did not get burned.
‘Tut,’ said Aunt. ‘You listen to too much gossip.’
Who’s talking? thought Anasuyabehn grimly.
‘He’s concerned mainly with the jewellery side now – opened a shop in a place near England.’ As she snipped away at the vegetables, she tried to think of aspects of Mahadev which might appeal to a young woman, and added, ‘He had a Western suit on this morning. I saw him driving through the cantonment, when I was on the bus – on my way to Mrs Patel’s.’
‘Did he?’ murmured Anasuyabehn politely, and thought absently that she must buy some more glass bracelets next time a bracelet seller came round.
Aunt had no intention of discussing matrimony with Anasuyabehn, but she did want to obtain from her some words of approbation in respect of the Desais, which she could carefully misinterpret as assent to a proposal. Mistress of domestic intrigue, dedicated matchmaker, she had no intention of giving Anasuyabehn the opportunity of refusal, and she was certain that a man with the taint of moneylending about him would be refused. She, therefore, said no more that day, but during the weeks that followed Anasuyabehn was regaled with quite a number of stories of the nobility and kindness of Mahadev Desai.
Anasuyabehn should undoubtedly have realized what was in her aunt’s mind, but she was entirely absorbed by ideas of marriage elsewhere. The memory of the beautiful, intense features of Dr Tilak staring up at her, as he walked past her home with Dr Bennett, had occupied her thoughts recently, and she only half listened to her aunt’s chatter.
Aunt, meanwhile, luxuriated in the thought of bringing off such a superb alliance in spite of the difficulties of Anasuyabehn’s advanced age and partly Christian education. If only her sons had lived, she thought sadly, how much more interesting life would have been to someone as skilled in matchmaking as herself; there would have been grandsons and granddaughters to marry off. Why the cholera should strike at her sons and leave her daughters was beyond her; and what trying daughters she had – always complaining because they had been married off to brothers who lived in Bombay, so far away from Shahpur. They were lucky, she thought bitterly – at least they ate twice a day, which was more than she had done in the first days of her marriage.
How good her brother had been, she reflected, to give her a home. Anasuyabehn, too, was a charming, respectful girl; Aunt would enjoy taking an interest in her children, though, of course, she would not see very much of them – once a girl was married she belonged to her husband’s family, not to her father’s family.
First, however, Anasuyabehn must have a husband.
If I can get my brother so enmeshed in marriage arrangements that it would be difficult for him to retreat with dignity, he also will press Anasuyabehn towards the marriage. And I must prepare Anasuyabehn, so that at least she does not immediately object when the offer comes.
Lucky women went to and fro between the