Carrying their hookahs in their hands, they strolled into the hawaili courtyard and stayed long into the night chatting away. With their hookah topped up with fresh tobacco by Siraj Din’s servants, and with delicious sweetmeats to eat and nuts to chew with their old teeth, the village elders peppered the marble courtyard with the pistachio shells, studiously ignoring the plates placed near them. Why bother with plates, when the floor was going to be swept and washed early in the morning? They enjoyed the friendly banter amongst themselves and listening to Baba Siraj Din’s ideologies and tales of old India. How, for instance, Siraj Din and his family had fled to Sind in Pakistan and started a new life after Partition. Under the cool breeze of the ceiling fan Shahzada sat at a discreet distance on a charpoy away from the men, hidden in the shadows of the tall potted plants on the verandah. She listened unobtrusively to their lively conversation. When she saw them leave, strolling out of the courtyard with their hookahs held in front of them, Shahzada dutifully went up to Siraj Din, to ask if he needed anything before she went to sleep.
