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bloodshed, not to mention enamored of Bombay’s most lurid element – the city’s sleaziest underscum, which was so lavishly depicted in all the Inspector Dhar movies. But when the waiter saw the flock of vultures; that the famous actor had put to flight, the reality of an actual corpse in the vicinity of the ninth green greatly upset him. He retreated to the club, where his presence had been missed by the elderly disapproving steward, Mr Sethna, who owed his job to Farrokh’s late father.
    ‘Inspector Dhar has found a
real
body this time!’ the waiter said to the old steward.
    Mr Sethna said, ‘Your station today is in the Ladies’ Garden. Kindly remain at your station!’
    Old Mr Sethna disapproved of Inspector Dhar movies. He was exceptionally disapproving in general, a quality regarded as enhancing to his position as steward at the Duckworth Club, where he routinely behaved as if he were empowered with the authority of the club secretary. Mr Sethna had ruled the dining room and the Ladies’ Garden with his disapproving frowns longer than Inspector Dhar had been a member – although Mr Sethna hadn’t always been steward for the Duckworthians. He’d previously been steward at the Ripon Club, a club that only Pasis join, and a club unsullied by sports of any kind; the Ripon Club existed for the purpose of good food and good conversation, period. Dr Daruwalla was also a member there. The Ripon and the Duckworth suited Farrokh’s diverse nature: as a Parsi and a Christian, a Bombayite
and
a Torontonian, an orthopedic surgeon and a dwarf-blood collector, Dr Daruwalla could never have been satisfied by just one club.
    As for Mr Sethna, who was descended from a not-so-old-money family of Parsis, the Ripon Club had suited him better than the Duckworth; however, circumstances that had brought out his highly disapproving nature had led to his dismissal there. His ‘highly disapproving nature’ had already led Mr Sethna to lose his not-so-old money, and the steward’s money had been exceedingly difficult to lose. It was money from the Raj, British money, but Mr Sethna had so disapproved of it that he’d most cunningly and deliberately pissed it all away. He’d endured more than a normal lifetime at the Mahalaxmi race course; and all he’d retained from his betting years was a memory of the tattoo of the horses’ hooves, which he expertly drummed on his silver serving tray with his long fingers.
    Mr Sethna was distantly related to the Guzdars, an old-money family of Parsis who’d kept their money; they’d been shipbuilders for the British Navy. Alas, it happened that a young Ripon Club member had offended Mr Sethna’s extended-family sensibilities; the stern steward had overheard compromising mention of the virtue of a Guzdar young lady – a cousin, many times removed. Because of the vulgar wit that amused these younger, nonreligious Parsis, there’d also been compromising mention of the cosmic intertwinement between Spenta Mainyu (the Zoroastrian spirit of good) and Angra Mainyu (the spirit of evil). In the case of Mr Sethna’s Guzdar cousin, the spirit of sex was said to be winning her favors.
    The young dandy who was doing this verbal damage wore a wig, a vanity of which Mr Sethna also disapproved. Therefore, Mr Sethna poured hot tea on top of the gentleman’s head, causing him to leap to his feet and literally snatch himself bald in the presence of his surprised luncheon companions.
    Mr Sethna’s actions, although considered most honorable among many old-money and new-money Parsis, were judged as unsuitable behavior for a steward; ‘violent aggression with hot tea’ were the stated grounds for Mr Sethna’s dismissal. But the steward received the highest recommendation imaginable from Dr Daruwalla’s father; it was on the strength of the elder Daruwalla’s praise that Mr Sethna was instantly hired at the Duckworth Club. Farrokh’s father viewed the tea episode as an act of heroism: the impugned