Tipu landed in Nabeezath’s nest.
He was indifferent to the thronging relatives and neighbours. An elderly woman came near him and tousled his hair, asking, “Hello, dear one, do you remember me?” Tipu merely glanced at her and continued to pull his toys out of the bag. Seeing his lack of interest in her, the old lady shuffled away.
Tipu observed that all the folks crowding around had the same facial expression. Most stood with eyes downcast, hands cupping their chins. He asked Nabeezath why all these people looked so desperate! Salim’s sister gathered him close and kissed him, murmuring, “Darling, you have everyone with you …your Umma hasn’t gone anywhere.” Tipu wondered whether they were not aware that his Ummudu had gone to Tilapia. He struggled hard to free himself from the woman’s flabby arms.
Nabeezath served tea to the visitors. After their repast, everybody went their way. Tipu jumped to the conclusion that all of them had their tea at Nabeezath’s home every evening.
Nabeezath gave Tipu a bath. He called her Rarumma. She had a unibrow; her thick brows met at the centre of her forehead, forming a cradle-like shape.
“Look at the eyebrow-cradle on your Nabeezathumma’s forehead! Areero, rareero raeeraro…” Thus, the Umma…
