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the woman sternly. Just then, Ranbir
came up behind her. “Ah, there you are—both of you? It’s all right, Mrs.
Bagchi, I called them here. Will you take them up—no, I’ll take them to Dadi
myself. I need to make sure the girl is okay.”
    Ranbir led them up the stairs. Making sure they were out of
earshot of the housekeeper, he gave Mira a meaningful look, “Why are you here?”
    “Well, you didn’t say anything about whom she was to ask for
here and what she was to say. Just look at her, she’s so nervous. I had to
come!”
    “Well, don’t do anything silly in front of Dadi,” he said
leading the way down a wide corridor. Four doors down, he stopped and knocked.
    “Who is it? Aa jao ,” said a woman’s voice from
inside. Ranbir walked in, holding the door open for the girls to enter.
    “Dadi, pranam ,” he said, bending down to touch the
elderly lady’s feet.
    “ Jug jug jiyo , beta ,” said Saudamini Dewan,
caressing his head with her hand in aashirwad .
    Mira’s eyes widened. Was this for real? Ranbir Dewan, the
ultra-sophisticate, whose name filled the gossip pages, greeting his
grandmother in the traditional Indian way? She choked back a hysterical giggle.
Why did she suddenly feel she was taking part in a ridiculous farce? But the
old lady sitting in the wheelchair near the window, studying her gravely,
looked anything but unreal.
    “Which of these is the girl you were talking about, beta ?”
she asked Ranbir.
    Ranbir gestured to Reema to come forward. “Dadi, this is
Reema, who will help you from now on. If you like her, that is,” he said
gravely.
    Reema stood before the wheelchair, her head hanging down
shyly.
    “Your name is Reema?” asked Mrs. Dewan. “Yes, ma’am,” she
replied in a whisper.
    “Well, if you are going to be about me, you’ll have to talk
a lot louder than that. I am a little deaf in my left ear. Can you read
English?”
    “She’s a history graduate,” said Mira loudly.
    “And who are you?” asked Mrs. Dewan imperiously.
    “Dadi, this is Mira, Reema’s sister. She works in our office
cafeteria. That’s how I got to hear of Reema,” interjected Ranbir smoothly
before Mira could reply.
    “And why does this history graduate want to be my
assistant?” asked the old lady. She broke in, just as Mira opened her mouth to
reply, and waved an admonishing finger at her, “Not you, young lady, I want to
hear Reema speak. I assume she has a tongue?”
    Mira flushed and kept quiet. “Ma’am,” faltered Reema. “We’ve
just moved to Delhi and Ma is still ill. We need the money, so the first job…”
    “What happened to your mother?”
    “She was injured when…when…Baba was killed and now we are
staying with Renu Mausi.” Slowly, Reema’s confidence was growing. “I was working
in a store, but it’s not very nice. So many strangers, Ma and Mausi were
unhappy.”
    “And so they should be,” said Mrs. Dewan. “Do you know the
ten names of Arjuna?”
    A look of surprise crossed Reema’s face. “Parth, Jishnu,
Keeriti, Savyasachi…” she began.
    “ Bas , bas ,” said Mrs. Dewan. “It’s good to
know that unlike the rest of your generation, you have some knowledge of your
culture and traditions. I assume your mother has also taught you our religious
rituals and how to prepare for a puja .” Reema nodded.
    “I think she’ll suit, Ranbir,” she said and turned again to
Reema, “Come tomorrow. Bring your things with you. I will have your room
prepared.”
    Reema’s eyes flew open.
    “She will have to stay here?” Mira was taken aback. “I don’t
think Ma…”
    “Well, what did you think?” Ranbir intervened. “Dadi leads
an active social life with all the charities she chairs and organizes. Reema
will need to accompany her to most of them. This is not a ten-hour shift, after
which you get to go home.”
    “You can go home every second Monday and come back on
Tuesday evening. I’m making this concession because your family lives