Read Family Matters for Free Online Page B

the wrapping paper, and nudged Murad to help him. She asked if the new medicine was an improvement.
    “Much better, look,” Nariman held out a trembling hand. “Steady as a rock. Relatively speaking.” As the padding of crumpled paper fell away, a walking stick stood revealed. “It’s beautiful,” he said, running his fingers along the gleaming surface.
    “Pure walnut, chief.”
    “And look, Grandpa, we put this special rubber cap on the end, so it won’t slip.”
    “Perfect,” said Nariman. He passed the stick to Jal, who admired it, tapping the floor with a flourish.
    Coomy came in and, halfway into the room, stopped in her tracks. “I can’t believe my eyes.”
    “What is it, wrong colour?” asked Roxana, for her sister was superstitious about such things.
    “Think for a moment,” said Coomy. “What are you giving, and to whom? A walking stick. To Pappa.”
    “He likes to take walks,” said Yezad. “It’ll be useful.”
    “We don’t want him to take walks! He has osteoporosis, Parkinson’s disease, hypotension – a walking medical dictionary!”
    “And you want to install me on the bookshelf. But I won’t stay cooped indoors twenty-four hours a day.”
    “I agree with you, chief. A person could go crazy.”
    “Oh, you agree? And do you know what happened yesterday? I didn’t want to say it on Pappa’s birthday, but now I will. No, Jal will. Tell them, Jal.”
    He cleared his throat, adjusted his hearing aid, and said in a mild voice that the night before Pappa had had an accident.
    “Nonsense,” said Nariman. “I stumbled and twisted my foot, that’s all.” He pulled up his sleeve to show the band-aid. “This is the enormous wound they are worried about.”
    Yezad’s laughter and Roxana’s relieved smile made Coomy feel helpless. “Please listen to me,” she pleaded. “Next time Pappa might not be so lucky. It’s no joke at his age, going out alone.”
    “Maybe you should go together, a walk will be healthy for everyone,” said Roxana.
    “You want to injure all of us in one shot?” Coomy turned to her brother, “Again you’ve become quiet. Must I do the arguing and seem like the bad person always?”
    “It’s his hearing aid,” said Yezad. “Makes it difficult to participate. You know, Jal, nowadays with advanced technology, the new gadgets are very powerful. And so small, you hardly notice them.”
    “Forget it,” said Coomy. “If he can’t hear with this big one, how will he manage with a tiny one?”
    “The streets are a death trap,” began Jal. “Footpaths are dug up, pedestrians have to compete with traffic, dozens of fatalities daily. We told Pappa to stroll around the flat for exercise, it’s big enough. For fresh air he can use the balcony. Why risk life and limb on those murderous pavements?”
    “I think you are overreacting,” said Yezad. “I agree you have to walk cautiously, not rely on traffic signals. But it’s still a civilized city.”
    “Is that so?” said Coomy. “In that case, why were you trying to leave for Canada?”
    Yezad didn’t like being reminded of it. “That was years ago. And not just because of traffic and pavements.”
    Then Coomy said that since, in their opinion, there was nothing wrong with Pappa’s walks, she wouldn’t worry herself about it. But if, God forbid, something terrible happened, she and Jal would deliver him straightaway to the Chenoy residence.
    “The chief is welcome,” said Yezad. “Just make sure you bring us one of your extra rooms. We live in a two-room flat, not a seven-room palace like this one.”
    “Laugh all you like, but I am serious.” There would be no other choice, she declared – an ayah or nurse would be unaffordable, and a nursing home out of the question. “Jal will tell you how hopeless the share bazaar is, Mamma’s investments make barely enough to let us eat dar-chaaval. And you know better than anyone, Pappa used up all his money to pay for your flat.”
    “But this