Midnights Children

Ghani said, “Wait here two moments,” and went into the room behind the door.
    In later years, Doctor Aadam Aziz swore that during those two moments of solitude in the gloomy spidery corridors of the landowner’s mansion he was gripped by an almost uncontrollable desire to turn and run away as fast as his legs would carry him. Unnerved by the enigma of the blind art-lover, his insides filled with tiny scrabbling insects as a result of the insidious venom of Tai’s mutterings, his nostrils itching to the point of convincing him that he had somehow contracted venereal disease, he felt his feet begin slowly, as though encased in boots of lead, to turn; felt blood pounding in his temples; and was seized by so powerful a sensation of standing upon a point of no return that he very nearly wet his German woollen trousers. He began, without knowing it, to blush furiously; and at this point his mother appeared before him, seated on the floor before a low desk, a rash spreading like a blush across her face as she held a turquoise up to the light. His mother’s face had acquired all the scorn of the boatman Tai. “Go, go, run,” she told him in Tai’s voice, “Don’t worry about your poor old mother.” Doctor Aziz found himself stammering, “What a useless son you’ve got, Amma; can’t you see there’s a hole in the middle of me the size of a melon?” His mother smiled a pained smile. “You always were a heartless boy,” she sighed, and then turned into a lizard on the wall of the corridor and stuck her tongue out at him. Doctor Aziz stopped feeling dizzy, became unsure that he’d actually spoken aloud, wondered what he’d meant by that business about the hole, found that his feet were no longer trying to escape, and realized that he was being watched. A woman with the biceps of a wrestler was staring at him, beckoning him to follow her into the room. The state of her sari told him that she was a servant; but she was not servile. “You look green as a fish,” she said. “You young doctors. You come into a strange house and your liver turns to jelly. Come, Doctor Sahib, they are waiting for you.” Clutching his bag a fraction too tightly, he followed her through the dark teak door.
    … Into a spacious bedchamber that was as ill-lit as the rest of the house; although here there were shafts of dusty sunlight seeping in through a fanlight high on one wall. These fusty rays illuminated a scene as remarkable as anything the Doctor had ever witnessed: a tableau of such surpassing strangeness that his feet began to twitch towards the door once again. Two more women, also built like professional wrestlers, stood stiffly in the light, each holding one corner of an enormous white bedsheet, their arms raised high above their heads so that the sheet hung between them like a curtain. Mr. Ghani welled up out of the murk surrounding the sunlit sheet and permitted the nonplussed Aadam to stare stupidly at the peculiar tableau for perhaps half a minute, at the end of which, and before a word had been spoken, the Doctor made a discovery:
    In the very center of the sheet, a hole had been cut, a crude circle about seven inches in diameter.
    “Close the door, ayah,” Ghani instructed the first of the lady wrestlers, and then, turning to Aziz, became confidential. “This town contains many good-for-nothings who have on occasion tried to climb into my daughter’s room. She needs,” he nodded at the three muscle-bound women, “protectors.”
    Aziz was still looking at the perforated sheet. Ghani said, “All right, come on, you will examine my Naseem right now.
Pronto
”.
    My grandfather peered around the room. “But where is she, Ghani Sahib?” he blurted out finally. The lady wrestlers adopted supercilious expressions and, it seemed to him, tightened their musculatures, just in case he intended to try something fancy.
    “Ah, I see your confusion,” Ghani said, his poisonous smile broadening, “You Europe-returned chappies forget certain things. Doctor Sahib, my daughter is a decent girl, it goes without saying. She does not flaunt her body under the noses of strange men. You will understand that you cannot be permitted to see her, no, not in any circumstances; accordingly I have required her to be positioned behind that sheet. She stands there, like a good girl.”
    A frantic note had crept into Doctor Aziz’s voice. “Ghani Sahib, tell me how I am to examine her without looking at her?” Ghani smiled