“But...what about the bricks?”
He blinks and rubs his chin roughly. “What about them?”
“I noticed all these bricks in the debris after the collapse. What happened to the cement that was invoiced? And the bricks—they’re different than the ones your engineers recommended on the specs. The bricks I saw last night were lighter weight—more porous. With no logos stamped on them. Could the supplier be held accountable for delivering the wrong material?”
Manu frowns, waves his hand as if what I’ve said is of no consequence. “They are a small player in all of this. Even if we hold their feet to the fire, they won’t be able to compensate us for so much damage and injury.” He straightens some papers on his desk. “There will be an official inquiry, which could answer some questions. But nothing for you to worry about. Go work with Hakeem now.” He stands up.
As I turn to leave, he says, his voice shaky, “I hate what this is going to do to Kanta. To Niki. They’ve been so proud of me. Now...everywhere they go...people will ask them about what happened. The shame... I don’t want them to have to explain or apologize.” He wipes his forehead, sweaty from the tea, with the flat of his hand.
I want to comfort this gentle man who has always been kind to me, to Auntie-Boss and to Radha. But I’m twenty to his forty. It would be unseemly for me to pat his shoulder or tell him everything will be all right when I know so little about this business. Still, I’m touched that he’s treating me like a member of the family, entrusting me with his deepest fears.
“Kanta Auntie will manage. And given your son’s batting, I’d say Niki can more than take care of himself. Besides, you’ve got me on your team—don’t forget!” I chuckle lightly.
His smile is faint, but it’s there.
I pick up the tea glasses to return them to the chai-walla. My heart is heavy with Manu’s burden—the pain of the injured, the disappointment of the maharani.
I also realize I’m angry at the injustice of it all. Manu’s signature is on everything. He’ll be held responsible for the greatest calamity Jaipur has known in decades. The Singhs will walk away with only a portion of the blame. And Manu is right: Kanta and Niki will pay the price, too. Auntie-Boss always says gossip-eaters have sharp teeth. They will chew on this tragedy for years to come.
Manu has the air of a defeated man; he’s already given up. It doesn’t seem fair. Surely there’s something I can do to help.
Thank Bhagwan Auntie-Boss will be here tonight. I can talk all this over with her.
* * *
On the way to my desk, I knock on Hakeem’s office door.
“Uncle,” I say, “you’re in early.”
The accountant looks up from his ledger, the overhead light glinting off his eyeglasses. “Mr. Agarwal asked me to come in before regular hours. After last night, we have much to do.” He takes off his glasses to polish them with his spotless white handkerchief. “Such a tragedy! My daughters had nightmares last night.”
I hadn’t remembered seeing Hakeem with anyone but Mr. Reddy.
“Everyone got home safely, I trust?”
“Barely. Every rickshaw, motor, tonga—all were taken. So many people trying to escape! Fights were breaking out. I was afraid I’d lose one of my girls. We held hands and had to muscle our way through the crowds. It took us the better part of three hours.”
I lean against the door frame. “What do you think caused it?”
Hakeem runs a finger under his mustache. “Mr. Agarwal tells me there were too many people on the balcony. Yes?”
Now I come into the room, stand in front of his desk. “But how could such a collapse happen because of the weight of a few extra people, Hakeem Sahib?”
“I’m told it was more than a few. More like a hundred extra.”
I take a moment to digest this. “Still, don’t the engineers overbuild...just in case? To compensate for human folly? Aren’t there standards that have to be met for the overbuild?”
Hakeem shrugs his rounded shoulders. “Who knows? We are accountants, not detectives. We need to put together a report on the building expenses associated with the damage, posthaste. Yes? We are to make a list of all the materials used and the suppliers we paid and how much we spent. You’ll work on the seats, carpets, decorative materials that will have to be replaced. Singh Sahib asked me to work on the cost of the construction materials for the repair and rebuild.”
“You mean Manu Sahib?”
“No, young Abbas. Ravi Sahib gave the order. Mr. Agarwal is in charge of all palace facilities, but since the larger building projects are often contracted out to Singh-Sharma, it feels like we work for them, too.”
Does Manu know Ravi gives orders to his staff? Isn’t that a conflict of interest? If Mr. Sharma hadn’t had a stroke and both Singhs weren’t in charge, I wonder if protocols would have been different. “So we’ll be estimating all the materials costs for replacement purposes?”
He shoots a glance at me as if I’m simple. “Yes.”
I clear my throat. “You’re so busy, Uncle,” I say. “I can help you with your estimates if you’d like.”
“Mr. Ravi asked me especially, yes? And you, Abbas, have your own assignment. Go.” He waves his hand at me, as if he is shooing a fly.
“But...couldn’t the collapse have been caused by something other than overcapacity? Substandard materials, for instance? A compromised structure?”
Hakeem frowns at me, sets down his fountain pen and leans forward on his elbows. “Think about what you’re saying, Abbas. Singh-Sharma is a very trusted contractor. The palace has been working with them for decades. And they’ve used the same materials suppliers for years. Trusted companies, reliable companies. There is no need to cast aspersions on them.”
“Surely there have been some changes in suppliers over the years?”
He sighs. “Abbas, did I mention I have four daughters? The oldest will be ready for marriage soon. The rest will follow. Yes? How will I be able to afford their dowries unless I’m sitting behind this desk, adding up the numbers Mr. Singh wants me to?”
I ignore his frustration. I know what I saw, and none of it makes sense. I need to tread carefully in case Hakeem thinks I’m blaming him for sloppy paperwork or casting doubt on Manu’s ability to manage the project. “Maybe Singh-Sharma used a new supplier, and they delivered materials different from the design specs—by accident. Have we added or changed any suppliers in the last year?”
Hakeem glares at me over his glasses. “You have much to learn, young man.”
I give him my most charming smile. “What if I agree to marry your eldest without asking for a dowry?”