The White Tiger

fabric that had got stuck to the wheel.
    “It’s cheap stuff, sir, this green cloth,” I said, rubbing the rough material between my fingers. “It’s what they put on children.”
    “And do you think the child…” He couldn’t say the word.
    “There was no sound at all, sir. No sound at all. And the body didn’t move even a bit.”
    “God, Balram, what will we do now—what will we—” He slapped his hand to his thigh. “What are these children doing, walking about Delhi at one in the morning, with no one to look after them?”
    When he had said this, his eyes lit up.
    “Oh, she was one of those people.”
    “Who live under the flyovers and bridges, sir. That’s my guess too.”
    “In that case, will anyone miss her…?”
    “I don’t think so, sir. You know how those people in the Darkness are: they have eight, nine, ten children—sometimes they don’t know the names of their own children. Her parents—if they’re even here in Delhi, if they even know where she is tonight—won’t go to the police.”
    He put a hand on my shoulder, the way he had been touching Pinky Madam’s shoulder earlier in the night.
    Then he put a finger on his lips.
    I nodded. “Of course, sir. Now sleep well—it’s been a difficult night for you and Pinky Madam.”
    I removed the maharaja tunic, and then I went to sleep. I was tired as hell—but on my lips there was the big, contented smile that comes to one who has done his duty by his master even in the most difficult of moments.
    The next morning, I wiped the seats of the car as usual—I wiped the stickers with the face of the goddess—I wiped the ogre—and then I lit up the incense stick and put it inside so that the seats would smell nice and holy. I washed the wheels one more time, to make sure there was not a spot of blood I had missed in the night.
    Then I went back to my room and waited. In the evening one of the other drivers brought a message that I was wanted in the lobby—without the car. The Mongoose was waiting for me up there. I don’t know how he got to Delhi this fast—he must have rented a car and driven all night. He gave me a big smile and patted me on the shoulder. We went up to the apartment in the elevator.
    He sat down on the table, and said, “Sit, sit, make yourself comfortable, Balram. You’re part of the family.”
    My heart filled up with pride. I crouched on the floor, happy as a dog, and waited for him to say it again. He smoked a cigarette. I had never before seen him do that. He looked at me with narrowed eyes.
    “Now, it’s important that you stay here in Buckingham Towers B Block and not go anywhere else—not even to A Block—for a few days. And not say a word to anyone about what happened.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    He looked at me for a while, smoking. Then he said again, “You’re part of the family, Balram.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Now go downstairs to the servants’ quarters and wait there.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    An hour passed, and then I got called upstairs again.
    This time there was a man in a black coat sitting at the dinner table next to the Mongoose. He was looking over a printed piece of paper and reading it silently with his lips, which were stained red with paan. Mr. Ashok was on the phone in his room; I heard his voice through the closed door. The door to Pinky Madam’s room was closed too. The whole house had been handed over to the Mongoose.
    “Sit down, Balram. Make yourself comfortable.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    I squatted and made myself uncomfortable again.
    “Would you like some paan, Balram?” the Mongoose asked.
    “No, sir.”
    He smiled. “Don’t be shy, Balram. You chew paan, don’t you?” He turned to the man in the black coat. “Give him something to chew, please.”
    The man in the black coat reached into his pocket and held out a small green paan. I stuck my palm out. He dropped it into my palm without touching me.
    “Put it in your mouth, Balram. It’s for you.”
    “Yes, sir. It’s very good. Chewy. Thank you.”
    “Let’s go over all this slowly and clearly, okay?” the man in the black suit said. The red juice almost dripped out of his mouth as he spoke.
    “All right.”
    “The judge has been taken care of. If your man does what he is to do, we’ll have nothing to worry about.”
    “My man will do what he is to do, no worries about that. He’s part of the family. He’s a good boy.”
    “Good, good.”
    The man in the black coat looked at me and held out a piece of