AT THE MOURNING-PARTY

By RANJEE G. SHAHANI

THE two women had met at last. Together they had entered the house, taking no notice of one another. They took their places in opposite corners of the room. Already there were many visitors, who had sorted them- selves out in groups over the floor. Some were weeping, others were gossiping.

The brahmin enters and takes his place on the dais behind the great books. There is a hush as he opens one. After a mumbling prayer, he reads aloud from the sacred tome, and expounds the text in a sing-song voice. " Give love for hatred," he drones impressively, and pauses to see the effect.

" A foolish brahmin, this," remarked Tili Bai to her neighbour, an old lady with a face sharp as a hatchet.

" Just what I thoght myself. See how young he is My brahmin , is not like that—he is old, modest, and his voice is like a bell." " I wish," said Tili Bai, " you'd give me his address." The old woman giggled feebly ; and then, bending down, whispered something in her companion's ear.

" I wonder what the world is coming to," said Pili Bai to a woman next to her. " This brahmin seems no good at all. She "—pointing to the weeping widow- " she might have brought in someone better."

" I only wish," replied the other, " she had consulted me. My brahmin is big and strong, and never smiles like this loose fellow."

Pili Bai nodded in agreement, and glanced across at her enemy, Tili Bai, as though to say : " So you have found your way here, have you ? you wicked woman ! I can hardly keep myself from " Words failed her, but the expression of her face spoke volumes.

Tili Bai noticed the angry look of the other woman and glared back with interest. " If I had known that you would be here, I would never have come near the place." She unwound her chaddar to display her diamond earrings.

Pili Bai, a younger and more attractive woman, was not slow to take up the challenge. With a coquettish movement, she also freed her chaddar to show the magnificent necklace she was wearing.

Tili Bai looked across the room with a jealous defiance. " I know where you got that necklace," she said to herself. " It came from the bribes that your husband the judge took from poor people. You ought to die of shame. . . ." She turned in affected disgust.

" Those airs do not become you, madam ; you are too fat" And Pili Bai contrasted her daintier figure with the ample proportions of her enemy. " What a good thing it is that nothing suits you. Those earrings, imitations as they are, are too good for those fat cars of yours. No wonder your husband loathes you—what man would not ? I never see him with you. And when my husband takes me out and we meet your man, lie is always flirting with others. That's where all his money goes, little though it is. You live at home on cat's meat, and then come out and give yourself airs, as though you were the wife of the governor himself. So you haven't much to boast of ! " She sniggered with satisfaction.

The other woman noted and resented the gesture. " Laugh while you can, but that won't be long. You'll come round to me begging. I know that your husband has got himself into trouble. Only this week lie stole three hundred rupees from poor people. My husband has all the proofs and I'll surely get him to expose your man. Then you'll laugh on the other side of your face. . . ." She beamed quite contentedly on her antagonist.

" What's that fat old cat grinning at, I wonder ? " thought Pili Bai. " You ought to be crying. My husband is going to report your man : and now lie I:a; proof of the taking 'of fees from both sides. There's honesty for you! And tomorrow he'll be exposed in open court ! So you won't have those earrings much longer. You'll go down into the dust. . . . Ha ! ha ! " And she chuckled. Then she made a sign towards the sacred books, invoking the aid of the gods.

Tili Bai saw the gesture and took it to be one of malevolent intent. A sudden fear fell upon her, and she trembled. Then in turn she cursed her enemy. At all costs Pili Bai should suffer.

The droning voice of the brahmin had now ceased. He saw their gestures, and muttered ingratiatingly : "May your wishes be fulfilled ! "

. The two women rose, sniffed at one another, and left the melancholy-looking brick-and-mortar edifice, each one blissful at the thought of the other's impending disaster.

From the house came the moaning of the ritual, and above all the wailing of the widow. But the two women were never so happy as now.