The Cosmic Clues by Manjiri Prabhu Page B

receding auto. Basically, she hated haggling over trivial matters. But this was more a matter of principle than just two rupees. Anyway, with her van gone for maintenance for the day, she had little choice but to travel by public transport. With a sigh, she turned to the Kapoor residence.
    For a few minutes, she observed the house, before passing through its small, rusted gate. It was a ramshackle building, looking almost as if it had been hit by a gigantic hammer. The walls were discoloured and revealed damages. Certainly a very old house in need of serious repairs.
    Sonia walked up the overgrown path and rang the doorbell. Immediately, a melodious tinkling, most incongruous with the dilapidated structure, receded into the house. Footsteps hastened towards the door and it was opened by a housecleaner.
    “Madam is not at home,” she explained, in Marathi, before Sonia could utter a word.
    “When will Mrs. Kapoor be back?”
    “She's gone out with Jaidevsaheb and said she would be back soon.”
    “In that case, I'd like to wait for her,” Sonia replied.
    The maid shrugged and silently made way for Sonia to enter. The girl was attired in a red printed cotton sari with the bottom half of the pleats tucked in at the waist to avoid hindrance. Apparently, she was sweeping the house.
    The room was small—a neat sitting room with relatively new furniture. A small two-seater sofa set, a thick red square rug, and a landscape on the wall comprised the decorations of the room. On the wall opposite hung a garlanded photograph, that of a smiling near-profile of a man. A backlight shone on his shining hair. It was obvious that the photo had been arranged and clicked in a professional studio.
    “This is Mr. Kapoor, isn't it?” Sonia indicated the photo with a hand.
    “Yes, he passed away just recently, poor man,” the maid responded sympathetically. “Did you know him?”
    “No—But I'd like to know about him. You see, I am an Investigator and—”
    “You mean
Jasoos
—like in films!” The maid excitedly tucked her sari more firmly around the waist and seated herself comfortably on the floor. “But you don't look like a
jasoos,
an Investigator.”
    “No, I guess I don't,” Sonia agreed with a rueful smile. “Have you been working here for long?”
    “Ever since Madam arrived here. She and Saheb were looking for a
bai
—a maid, so they spoke to the Kulkarnis, who told their maid, who told my sister. She said to me—‘Uma, you've lazed around for too long, here's a nice job, take it!' So I accepted it! And I've been so fortunate, both have been such wonderful people!”
    “And when did you first come to this house—I mean, how long ago?”
    “Sometime in March. I remember, I asked Madam if she wanted me to help her make pickles or anything else but she wasn't interested. She never made jams or pickles, like the rest of us women. I think all the time she simply thought about Kapoorsaheb!”
    “Was Mr. Kapoor unwell?”
    “Oh no, he was a fine sturdy man and healthy! But alcohol can ruin a person!” Uma spoke knowledgeably. “Not that he used to drink all day. He drank occasionally, but when he did drink, there was no controlling him. They had loud quarrels, so that all the neighbors could hear them shout and screech at each other! We fight too—my husband and I—but even we maintain a kind of decency! At least my husband never goes to other women with his worries!”
    “You mean that Mr. Kapoor was in the habit of going to other women?”
    “Oh no!” Uma exclaimed hastily. “I meant that he would behave funny. You won't mention this to anyone? You look like a decent woman, yourself, so I can tell you the truth! Kapoorsaheb would come to me and blabber a lot of strange things—I blush to tell you what he would say in his drunken state! He told me that I reminded him of someone. That he had lots of money and would give it all to me. It was very indecent talk for a man of his stature and class, with a