Bombay Time Read Online Free PDF

toward. As they approached the group of men and women sitting on the wooden chairs in the open air, there was a rustle of silk and chiffon saris, a glint of gold and diamonds as the crowd turned its collective head toward the newcomers.
    “Rusi. Coomi. At last. Come, come. We were wondering whether to call or what. Bomi was getting worried.” Sheroo Mistry’s smiling face and welcoming arms drew the Bilimorias into the fold.
    People moved their chairs to expand the circle to include the new-comers. After a few moments, Rusi noticed Jimmy and Zarin Kanga heading their way. Jimmy kissed Coomi on the cheek and then took Rusi’s hand in both of his. “Hello,
bossie.
We were worried you were not going to make it. Mehernosh just asked a few minutes back whether you and Coomi were here.”
    Rusi could tell that Jimmy was in a good mood. “Zarin and I were just remembering how your Binny used to tease Mehernosh with that silly nursery rhyme,” Jimmy continued. “Seems like yesterday, doesn’t it? Can you believe that little boy is now a married man? Or that my beautiful wife is old enough to be a grandma?”
    The Kangas exchanged a quick, intimate smile. Watching them, Rusi felt a momentary stab of envy. It was well known that the Kangas had a good marriage. They made a handsome couple. Jimmy Kanga, tall, well built, was one of the city’s top lawyers, and everything about him, from his gleaming, healthy face, to his clean, well-manicured fingernails, was proof of the fact that he had transcended his humble beginnings. Zarin, too, had a quiet grace and authority, which made her the perfect companion for her wildly successful husband. In all these years, Rusi had never heard Zarin raise her voice. She’s the kind of woman I should’ve married, he thought. My life would’ve been different then.
    Now Zarin was smiling at him. “Rusi,” she said. “Why don’t you go indoors to the bar with Jimmy? I hate seeing any of my guests without a glass in their hands. Coomi and I will go get some soft drinks.”
    “Of course, of course,” Jimmy said. “Rusi, my apologies. I’m forgetting my manners.”
    At the bar, a man with a handlebar mustache was pouring drinks. “Fali, a scotch for my dear friend here,” Jimmy said. “Make sure it’s the
asli maal,
the good stuff,” he added with a wink. “None of that Indian brew for Rusi.”
    The man gave Rusi a quick look of approval as he fixed him a drink behind the table. Rusi understood that the Kangas had a two-tier system—cheaper Indian alcohol for most of the guests and the imported stuff for the important ones. Even as he appreciated being in the latter category, he felt a sense of distaste at this caste system of favorites. If Binny had gotten married in India, he thought, I would’ve served imported drinks to all my guests.
    When they went back outdoors, Rusi noticed that Coomi had been cornered by Shirin, a spinster who lived in the vicinity of Wadia Baug. Despite himself, he felt a twinge of pity for Coomi. Shirin was invited to social functions so rarely that she reentered human society with all the subtlety of Hitler invading Poland. How that woman can talk, Rusi thought. Too bad they cannot power motorcars with Shirin’s words. India would surely rule the world then.
    “My God, remember in the old days when we would get hard rolls and real cream for five paisa, only?” Shirin was saying. “Today, the bread alone is costing as much as a whole chicken used to cost in the old times. Am I saying the truth or not?”
    Bomi Mistry nodded. “This inflation is like a runaway horse. Nobody can keep pace with it. Why, I remember a time when—”
    “Come on, come on, you two,” Sheroo said. “You are sounding like old farts. What’s the use of this remembering? The
banya
still charges me today’s prices when I go to his shop, so what’s the use of crying over spilt milk? Next thing, you two will be starting a petition to bring the British back to