The Householder (3 page)

‘Are we going to drink a cup of tea?' Raj asked irritably. In his more downcast moments Prem had already begun to suspect that Raj only met him for the sake of the tea for which it somehow always happened that Prem paid.

They never went into any of the coffee-houses in the main shopping arcade. They had once ventured into one, but had been so overawed by the elaborate decorations and by the many waiters in white uniforms overlooked by a manager in a raw-silk suit that they had quickly gone out again. They felt safer turning down the side-streets and sitting down outside one of the makeshift eating-stalls called the Paris Hotel or Punjab Hotel or Pearl Palace. They always went to a different one because Raj always had some objection to the ones they had been to before. Prem thought that was a pity; he would like to have gone always to the same one, so that they would be known there, as they had been known in the places they had gone to in Ankhpur, and greeted with smiles and a jovial shout of, ‘Again the same?'

But now nobody smiled when they sat down outside a stall; only a boy came, wiped the big wooden table and stood waiting for them to order. Raj ordered quite a lot and, as soon as it came, began quickly to eat. ‘Today I am in a hurry,' he explained. ‘My baby was not well when I left this morning. Maybe I will have to take her to the doctor.'

Prem thought of telling him about his own baby that was on the way. But it had been much easier to tell Sohan Lal. Perhaps because Sohan Lal had not known him when he was young and unmarried and had dreamt about being in love. But Raj knew all that—they had lain together in the grass under a peepul tree and had talked about girls and what it might be like to sleep with one. Now both of them were married to wives their families had chosen for them.

The proprietor of the eating-stall, a big man with a newly shaven skull and a rather dirty vest, was frying fish-cakes; they sizzled in a lake of hot fat while he pushed them about with a stick. The serving-boy squatted in front of the stall and washed dishes in a bucket. A very small puppy with tufts of hair missing ran about wagging its tail and pushing its nose into the dust. There were no customers apart from Prem and Raj. The eating-stall next door had no customers either, and from time to time the two proprietors exchanged scraps of conversation.

Prem said, ‘Do you remember Kakaji's?' Kakaji's was the eating-stall they had gone to in Ankhpur: Kakaji gave credit to all the students for biscuits and tea. If any student ran up too large a bill, Kakaji went and complained to the Principal of the college, who was Prem's father. Each time the boys passed a resolution to boycott Kakaji's, but the proprietors of the other eating-stalls in Ankhpur would not give them credit, so they always came back.

Raj, chewing with bulging cheeks, made a noncommittal sound, which made it clear that his interest in Kakaji's had long since evaporated. This was not surprising, for Prem asked the same question every week. Indeed, Prem himself did not feel so much interest in the subject any more, and only touched on it for something to say. Not that there were not plenty of other things which he would have preferred saying; but he could not get over his shyness with Raj.

‘Nice smell,' said Raj, referring to the fish-cakes.

Prem swallowed hard and led up to the subject at present closest to his heart: ‘Today I went to see my Principal.'

‘I don't usually eat fish at this time of day, otherwise I might try some.'

‘Things are rather difficult for me now,' Prem said. ‘You see, I pay 45 rupees rent——'

‘I also pay 25 rupees. And don't forget I have a baby to support.'

‘As a matter of fact——' Prem slowly began. His ears grew hot.

‘You have no idea how expensive a baby can be. It drinks so much milk and then it needs clothes——'

‘I know. That is why I went to see the Principal. But I don't think he understood what I meant to say.'

‘It is fantastic how quickly a baby can grow out of its clothes. And as soon as it starts walking, there are shoes also and those go even quicker.' Raj spoke with the same animation on this subject as he had once spoken about love and girls and Kakaji.

Prem said, ‘I shall have to ask him again. Next time I shall say right out I want more pay.'

‘You are lucky not to be in Government service. In Government service whom can you ask? Can you go and say Mr. Government, I want more pay?' Raj was pleased with this joke and leant back to laugh. A young beggar-woman with a pretty face and merry eyes shining out of dirt and rags and a baby sleeping in her arms, approached them and began her professional whine: ‘Sahib,' she said, holding out one cupped hand. Raj motioned her away: ‘You will get nothing here,' he said.

‘I may have to look for another job,' Prem said.

‘Of course,' Raj said, ‘Government service has many other compensations. For instance, there is a pension and provident fund'

‘It would be good if I could get a job with Government.'

‘Look at my child, how hungry he is,' the beggar-woman said.

‘A Government job is a safe job. Nobody can tell you get out——'

‘For four days I have put nothing in my stomach.' She patted it vigorously and looked at them with laughing eyes.

‘Go away!' Raj said, and the proprietor also shouted, ‘Get out!'

‘You are my mother and my father,' the beggar-woman said, edging nearer. Prem put his hand in his pocket and gave her a coin. She inspected it critically, then hitched up the sleeping child and moved off without further comment.

‘You are a fool to give,' Raj said. Prem shrugged; he too knew he was a fool, but somehow he felt better after giving. ‘Wait till you have a family, then you will not be so free with your money,' Raj said.

‘As a matter of fact——'

‘Now I must go. This morning my baby was sick.'

The serving-boy came to take their money. ‘How much?' Raj inquired, his hand pretending to grope towards his pocket. Prem drew out the money and, while he paid, Raj turned round in his chair to where the beggar-woman was now begging at the next stall; he said to her, ‘What, you are here again?' in an angry voice. When the paying was over, he turned back and told Prem, ‘Again you have paid, this is very bad.' Prem said, ‘Then next Monday?'

He was surprised to find Indu downstairs on the Seigals' front porch. What surprised him further was that she was happy and smiling; she never looked like that at home. The Seigals too were smiling. Mr. Seigal stood with his legs apart and his hands laid on his big belly; he was looking down on Indu with great benevolence, saying, ‘Why don't you come more often?' and when he saw Prem he shouted, ‘Why do you keep your wife locked up all the time?'

‘I?' said Prem and was about to start defending himself when he realized it was a joke. Then he hung his head and shuffled his feet and shyly smiled.

‘You must both come,' said Mrs. Seigal. ‘What is the use of sitting by yourselves up there?' She was crocheting, hooking the needle with great dexterity. From time to time she spread out and flattened the finished part and looked at it critically. Indu said, ‘How beautiful' and fingered it. ‘It is a tablecloth,' said Mrs. Seigal; and added, ‘With things like this we keep busy.'

‘While we men slave to bring home the money,' said Mr. Seigal to Prem with a manly guffaw which Prem tried but failed to echo. He never felt at ease with the Seigals. For one thing, they were his landlords, and remembrance of the 45 rupees rent he was obliged to pay them in the first week of every month made a really hearty relationship difficult. And then their way of life was so much more expansive than anything he had been brought up to; somehow he could not help feeling a tinge of disapproval at their nightly card-parties, the lights and the noise and the radio, the whisky, the cups of tea and the plates of sweetmeats so freely circulated. He did not think that such ease was conducive to a really noble life.

Mr. Seigal patted his hands against the sides of his belly and asked Prem, ‘So how are you getting on?' in an offhand tone of bonhomie which did not require any answer. Prem, however, felt very much tempted to reply. The thought of his increasing responsibilities was so pressing to him that he would have liked to share it with anyone who showed even the slightest interest in his concerns.

‘You can come and sit with me and we will both crochet a quilt together,' Mrs. Seigal was telling Indu, who smiled and looked happy at the prospect. Prem caught a glimpse of her face out of the corner of his eye and it struck him that, when she smiled, she was really quite pretty. At the same time another thought occurred to him and that was that she had told the Seigals—or at least Mrs. Seigal who would, in her turn, have told her husband—that she was pregnant. In which case, all the time that he was standing here, they knew what it was he did with Indu; perhaps they were even thinking about it. Mr. Seigal was looking at him in a shrewd, knowing, amused way, which might very well mean that he
was
thinking about it.

‘Work to do … papers to correct,' Prem muttered, making a hasty departure. Indu followed reluctantly behind. The smile had gone from her face, giving way to a look of disappointment. She even sighed, softly but nevertheless enough to irritate Prem. He said, ‘What is the matter?' in a tone of voice which dared her to say anything
was
the matter.

‘Nothing,' Indu softly and obediently sighed, with her face turned aside from him.

‘When you are with them you smile. Here you only sigh.' To this she had no reply, and her silence encouraged him to probe his grievance further. ‘I work so hard all day,' he reminded her, ‘and when I come home, there you sit and sigh.'

She was squatting on the floor, picking at the hem of her sari. He looked down at her meek bent head. ‘What is the matter?' he said. ‘Are you unwell?' Her head shook. ‘Then why do you sigh?' He paced the room in some agitation. ‘It is I who should sigh. If you knew how many worries I have …' He wanted to add ‘because of you' but kindness restrained him.

‘What is a salary of only 175 rupees? It is very little, it is nothing. Our rent alone costs us 45 rupees a month.' He paced some more and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Just think,' he cried, ‘45 rupees!'

Suddenly she said, ‘Why don't you ask Mr. Seigal to make your rent less?'

He was so surprised that she should make any suggestion—let alone such a sensible one—that he stood and stared at her. This confused her, and she bent her head lower and continued to pick at the hem of her sari. ‘What?' Prem said. ‘What did you say?' hoping that she had something else sensible to bring forward.

But she would not say it again. Probably she thought he would laugh at her or scold her. She jumped up and ran into the kitchen, where she promptly began to shout at the servant-boy.

Prem followed her and said, ‘You think he would?'

‘You call this clean?' she was shouting, thrusting a saucepan under the boy's nose. The boy stood quite still and stared into the distance with a patient look.

‘You think he would reduce our rent, if I asked him?'

‘Even to clean saucepans I have to teach you!' Indu shouted.

‘Well, answer me,' Prem insisted.

‘How do I know?' she said. ‘There is a letter for you. It is lying on the bed.'

It was from his mother, but he did not at once open it. Instead he lay down on the bed and thought about what Indu had said.

The bed was their only really good piece of furniture. It had been a present from Indu's uncle and was a large double-bed of shiny teak; the headrest was decorated with two carved cherubs who had their arms clasped about one another's necks. The poky crooked little bedroom was really not good enough for this magnificent bed. Prem was very proud of it and liked to lie on it, even in the daytime. He lay there and thought about how he would ask Mr. Seigal to reduce his rent.

Still thinking about this, he ripped open his mother's letter. He read ‘My dearest son' and after that, from the expressions of happiness and gratitude to God, realized that this letter was in reply to the one he had sent announcing Indu's pregnancy. He finished reading in haste and some embarrassment, but was glad to find in the end that his mother intended to come and visit them. It would be nice to have her here: she would make the flat more comfortable and homelike, and also perhaps she would teach Indu how to cook the dishes he liked.

Indu stood in the doorway and said shyly, ‘I also had a letter today.' She was holding it out to him.

‘Who is it from?'

‘It is from my mother.' He did not take it, though she was still holding it out to him; instead he said, ‘What does she write?'

After a short pause, Indu said in a low voice, ‘She wants me to come home.'

Prem had no comment to make. It did not, he thought, greatly matter to him whether she stayed or went.

Indu confessed, ‘I wrote to her about …' and ‘Yes, yes,' said Prem in some irritation. ‘That is why she wants me to come home,' Indu said.

‘My mother is coming to visit us,' Prem said.

After thinking this over for a while, Indu said, ‘Then she will be able to look after you here when I am gone.'

‘How can you go away when my mother is coming to visit us?'

‘Why not?' Indu inquired. The innocence of her voice as she asked this made him quite angry. He shouted, ‘What do you mean why not? Have you no sense?' She looked at him with her eyes wide in amazement. He had never before shouted at her.

Now that he had started, he rather felt like shouting some more. But he thought of the Seigals downstairs and the servant-boy in the kitchen, and so changed to a fierce whisper. ‘Don't you understand that my mother will be offended?' he hissed, supporting himself on one elbow as he lay on the bed and leaning towards her.

‘Why are you whispering?' she asked.