Serious Men by Manu Joseph Page B

for him. He talks to me only when he wants food.’ That reminded her of something. ‘He has left half the food in the lunch-box.’
    ‘Did you give him Lady’s Finger?’
    ‘My god, no! This boy is already abnormal. Lady’s Finger makes you do sums better. I would never give it to him.’ And she said in an affectionate way, ‘Strange boy. He has not troubled the science teacher for some time. I wonder why. But it will come soon, the next summons from the Principal.’
    ‘He has done something else,’ Ayyan said, with a mysterious smile.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘I can’t tell you now.’
    ‘Tell me.’
    ‘You will know in the morning.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Don’t waste your time. I am not going to tell you. Wait till morning.’
    ‘Why morning? What’s going to happen?’
    ‘Wait and see.’
    ‘Adi,’ she said, trying to be stern. ‘What have you done?’
    ‘I’ve not done anything.’
    ‘What is going to happen in the morning?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘What do you mean, you don’t know?’
    ‘Don’t confuse me,’ Adi said, annoyed.
    ‘Come here,’ she screamed. Adi threw the pencil down and came to his mother. ‘Look here,’ she told him, trying to look severe. ‘You are too young to keep secrets from me. What is happening? I have to know. Otherwise I will give you a slap and the truth will come out of your mouth.’
    ‘I’ve not done anything,’ he said.
    ‘If you keep doing only what your father asks you to do, you will come to grief, boy. A lamb that follows a pig will eat shit.’
    ‘Don’t confuse me.’
    ‘Tell me, what have you done? What’s the secret?’
    Adi turned to his father in exasperation.
    ‘Don’t bother him,’ Ayyan told his wife, and that was that.
    Adi went back to his imposition. In the brief silence they heard the faint noise of horns, boys playing cricket and the unmistakable sound of a man, somewhere, beating his wife. Adi raised his head from his notebook and smiled at his father. Ayyan smiled back. That set off Oja again.
    ‘What is it?’ she almost pleaded.
    Ayyan pointed a finger upwards, his eyes inviting her to follow him.
    The attic was built a few weeks ago, in the tremors of a carpenter’s violent hammer, its every blow landing on Ayyan’s heart and shaking a secret pride within. He never thought the day would come when he too would build an attic. It reminded him of the failed men of BDD and their desperation to sleep with their wives, away from the sight of the others. Ceilings were high in BDD and almost everyone had an attic. Most of the loud, insufferable children of the chawls were conceived in the attics. In the homes where there were more than one married couple, they took weekly or even daily turns to use the elevated bedroom. The conjugal attic was a sign here. That a man had failed to escape, that he was now stranded.
    Oja looked cautiously at her son. He was absorbed in his imposition. Ayyan had a packet with him now and she was curious to know what it was. She had not seen it when he came home. It was remarkable, she thought, how her husband hidthings and made them spring out when he wanted them to. He pulled down a folding ladder and climbed up into the loft. Oja followed. The attic was about six feet by three. There was a thin mattress and a blue table fan, and a lot of books that Oja wanted to throw away. They crawled on to the attic floor and sat there.
    ‘What is it?’ she asked in a whisper.
    ‘I’ve got something for you,’ he said. He opened the packet and took out a bra.
    ‘This? It looks so fancy. How much is this?’
    ‘Look, how stiff it is,’ he said, pointing to the hardwire frame of the cups. She giggled.
    ‘It’s metal. What if lightning strikes?’
    ‘It’s plastic.’
    ‘It’s metal.’
    ‘To be on the safe side, don’t wear it in the rains.’
    ‘It’s so funny. Where do you find these things?’
    ‘It’s not funny, you idiot. This is what girls are wearing these days.’
    ‘How do you