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Sita‚’ reproved the father. ‘This is a question of our girl’s happiness. There is no hurry.’
    ‘With you retiring in one year, there is every hurry.’
    ‘That is no reason to marry.’
    The mother fell into despairing silence. Retirement, father’s uncertain health, finances in a meagre state, the bridge to the plot unbuilt and their dearest daughter still to be settled.
    ‘How many times can I meet him?’ demanded Astha, a little excitement rising in her. Somebody found her desirable and had gone to lengths to find out who she was.
    ‘One, two times, what is the need for more?’ said the mother. ‘You cannot tell about a person before marriage, no matter how many times you meet him.’
    Astha sat silent, twiddling her thumbs, staring down at her flat feet in their bathroom slippers. Had she known Rohan? Not really, and the soiled feeling she now associated with that interlude came over her again.
    ‘Papa?’ she quickly asked. ‘You think this is a good thing?’
    ‘I’m not sure‚’ said the father uncertainly. ‘The plus side is that he is the only son and both his sisters are married. The younger one, settled in the US, wanted to sponsor him, but hedecided to return to his parents. He is twenty-six, five eleven, he works as an assistant manager in a bank.’
    ‘Clearly a good, family-minded boy‚’ said the mother complacently.
    ‘And Vadera’s ministry was allotted land in South Delhi. They will be able to build on it, they won’t have to wait for bridges and water and electricity connections, they won’t have to worry about thugs or gypsies‚’ continued the father bitterly.
    ‘Isn’t that a good thing for our daughter? She at least will have a decent home. God has heard my prayers‚’ added the mother piously.
    ‘Sita, are your prayers that the girl be married to a plot in Vasant Vihar? Why don’t you go and do the pheras there?’
    ‘What’s wrong, Papa? You don’t like the family?’
    ‘I have heard things about Vadera.’
    ‘What things?’
    ‘He is in the commerce ministry. Nice place to be if you want to keep a certain standard of living, and licences are needed by every manufacturing unit, big or small, for anything they do.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘He travels abroad, gives his daughters big weddings, buys a car, a new car every three or four years.’
    This did indeed seem very bad; such high living had to have some dark reason behind it. ‘How does he do it, I ask you?’ went on the father. ‘Must be taking bribes. Will you be happy in a house that doesn’t share our values?’
    ‘Papa, you don’t think it is a good idea, I won’t meet the boy.’
    The mother collapsed into rage. ‘Everybody is corrupt, are they? Throw out nine tenths of the government, run the country yourself with your high blood pressure. Expect the whole nation to be like Gandhi. Send your daughter to an ashram, because we have neither the means nor the money to get her properly married.’
    ‘I will look after myself‚’ said Astha bravely.
    No one paid attention.
    ‘Their sole interest is the girl, her looks, her education, her qualities. That is something‚’ said the harassed father.
    ‘It’s more than something‚’ insisted the mother. ‘How many people do you know like that?’
    ‘Big dowries are being offered for Hemant. He is known to be quite smart.’
    ‘Is that his name?’ asked Astha.
    ‘Yes.’
    A nice name. Hemant and Astha. It had a certain ring to it.
    ‘Why aren’t they going in for big dowries?’ inquired the prospective bride.
    ‘The boy does not believe in dowry. Must be the foreign influence, couldn’t be his father.’
    Astha felt an even greater interest in the boy. ‘Let me meet him, Papa‚’ she declared. ‘After all, the father came with the proposal, they must be thinking alike to a certain extent.’
    *
    Hemant came to the house. The parents left them alone for half an hour. Astha was so nervous her palms were sweating. He had only gone by her