The Householder

by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala

  ‘Do you go to school, Babli?’

  ‘She is only two. This is another worry we shall have to face next year—the school fees that have to be paid every month. It is a great burden.’ The little girl rubbed herself against his legs and he absent-mindedly stroked her head. Prem suddenly realized that it would not be long before he too had a child, and this thought made him so unexpectedly happy that he was quite embarrassed. To hide this, he bent down from his chair and plucked at some blades of grass.

  Raj’s wife came out with a tea-tray, which she placed with a lot of clatter on to a footstool. She did not go away but stood watching them, with one arm akimbo. She was a rather plain woman and, though still young, already much too fat.

  ‘Are you comfortable in this place?’ Prem asked. Since Raj was ignoring his wife, Prem could only follow suit.

  ‘What to do?’ said Raj. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’

  ‘What—comfortable!’ Raj’s wife surprisingly interposed. She spoke with heat and in a somewhat raucous voice. ‘Have you seen the state of this place? It is falling in ruins about our heads!’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Raj said irritably, ‘now don’t talk so loud.’

  ‘All the ceilings are cracked, and when it rains, the water comes into the house like a flood.’

  ‘It is allotted to us by Government,’ Raj said. ‘Naturally we have to take what we are given. And the rent is not so bad.’ He fed sugar to his child from a spoon, which she licked with relish.

  ‘The W.C. was broken a long time ago, so that we have to use a commode,’ Raj’s wife said.

  ‘All right, all right,’ Raj said to her over his shoulder.

  ‘And the sweeper comes only twice a day to clean it out. It is very inconvenient for us. When you have finished with the tea, I will take away the tray.’ She bent down to pick it up. Though he tried modestly not to look at her, Prem could not help noticing that she was clumsy in her movements. She dropped things and bumped her elbow and when she walked, she placed her feet in square heavy thuds. Prem thought of Indu, of her light swift ways, and felt rather pleased.

  Prem said, ‘My mother has come from Ankhpur, and is staying with us.’

  Raj gave him a swift look. ‘Everything is all right?’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Prem said with an uneasy laugh.

  Raj shook his head. ‘I know it is often difficult when a wife and a mother meet.’ He gave a sigh, which seemed to come from out of the memory of a deep experience. Prem looked at him with respect. He felt there was much he could learn from Raj.

  ‘One day you must come to my house also,’ he said. ‘You and your wife. And of course Babli must not be left at home.’ He tried to chuck the child under the chin but she quickly hid her head behind her arms. ‘We can all meet together for a meal at my house.’ He rather liked the prospect of entertaining Raj and his family. There was something solid and respectable about a family party, which appealed to him more now than meeting only Raj in the vestibule of the cinema.

  When he got home, he found his mother alone. She was sitting on her bed; she had not turned the light on. ‘Your wife is downstairs,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘With the Seigals?’

  ‘How do I know what their name is?’

  ‘I will go and fetch her.’ He walked away rather hastily.

  ‘The servant also is not here!’ She called after him. ‘There is no one to make even a cup of tea for me!’

  He clicked his tongue. ‘At once I will fetch her.’ He ran quickly down the stairs. There were several visitors in the Seigals’ house. Mr. Seigal sat with three other men at a little card-table which had been placed right under the ceiling fan. They were arguing loudly about something and seemed to be quite angry. Romesh lay on the sofa, as indolently as if he were floating in a boat, his hand trailing on the carpet and his eyes fixed dreamily into the distance. Indu was out on the veranda with some other ladies. She was helping Mrs. Seigal to wind wool and looked quite happy and smiling. When she saw Prem, though, her face changed and she became passive and expressionless. He noticed this, and was hurt.

  He declined to sit down. ‘My mother is waiting for us,’ he told Mr. Seigal. Indu followed him with obvious reluctance. At the bottom of the stairs, he asked her in a hurried low voice, ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing happened.’

  ‘Why did you leave my mother all alone?’

  She shrugged and walked up the stairs. He came behind her, feeling uneasy and unhappy. They had hardly entered when Prem’s mother began to complain: ‘What sort of a household is it, where the servant is out, the wife is out, the mother who has come to visit is left alone without tea and sitting in darkness?’ Prem switched the light on with a sharp click. ‘It is hurting my eyes!’ his mother cried. Indu had quietly slipped into the kitchen and was lighting the fire.

  ‘I am sorry for you, son,’ Prem’s mother said. ‘When I am not here, there is no one to look after your comforts. My poor boy, to have to work so hard and then to come home to an empty house with the fire unlit, no tea, no light, nothing. Thank God I always knew what my duty was towards your father. He never had to come home to such a house.’ The servant-boy could be heard singing as he came up the stairs. Prem ran out and seized him by the shoulder. ‘Where have you been?’ Prem shouted.

  The boy looked at him in astonishment. His mouth was open, interrupted in mid-song. ‘Where have you been?’ Prem shouted and he gave the boy’s shoulder a shake which, however, in contrast to his fierce voice, was rather feeble.

  ‘Son!’ Prem’s mother called from the sitting-room. ‘Don’t upset yourself, son!’

  Indu came out of the kitchen. The boy looked at her and asked: ‘What is the matter with him?’

  Prem let go of his shoulder and turned indignantly to Indu. ‘What a rude undisciplined boy he is.’

  ‘Don’t upset yourself, son! You will make yourself ill!’

  Suddenly Indu was shouting at the servant-boy:’ You son of the devil, you little pig, where have you been?’ She advanced in a threatening attitude, swaggering slightly, with arms akimbo and her fists pushed against her hips. ‘Just wait till I——’ The boy ducked and fled into the kitchen. She followed him: ‘I will tear out your eyes and stamp on them.…’ Prem went back into the sitting-room. His mother was still sitting on her bed; she was combing her hair and had hairpins in her mouth. They could hear Indu shouting in the kitchen: ‘I will batter in your teeth and twist off your ears!’ Prem’s mother took the hairpins out of her mouth and said, ‘She has bad temper also. My poor son.’

  Indu did not again object to accompanying Prem to Mr. Khanna’s tea-party. On the contrary, she seemed quite glad to go, as if she were glad to escape from the house for an afternoon. She spent a long time dressing herself. Prem watched her and was fascinated. She wore one of her best saris, one that had been given her on her marriage—a lilac-coloured georgette with big flowers and leaves stitched on it in imitation pearls. With that she wore red shoes which had high platform soles and cut-out toes. She also put on her jewellery—a heavy gold necklace and long ear-rings and twelve gold bangles—smoothed and liberally oiled her hair and wound it round with a fresh chain of jasmine, applied the red mark on her forehead and finally even a little lipstick on her lips. How different she looked from the everyday Indu, who wore cotton saris tucked round her waist, glass bangles and usually no shoes at all. Prem gazed at her in admiration. Her eyes were shining, and her lipstick, her gold, her jasmine, her hair-oil all gave her an almost opulent effect. Prem’s mother said, ‘You children can go and enjoy yourselves. I will be here to guard everything.’

  Prem was wearing his best shirt and trousers, and he felt proud as they walked together to the college. For a time they did not speak. Indu was concentrating on her walking, which was a little difficult for her owing to her unaccustomed high platform soles. Prem too was rather self-conscious and walked in a slow and stately way. They were very obviously two people dressed up in their best clothes and goin
g somewhere special.

  After a while Indu said, ‘What shall I do if someone speaks to me there?’

  ‘Of course you must answer very politely and also in such a way that people can see that you are educated.’

  Indu kept silent. Prem glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was looking worried: she was biting her lip and frowning. He realized she was thinking how difficult it would be to answer in such a way. He also began to worry and hoped that she would show herself to her best advantage.

  It was strange to see the college downstairs so empty. ‘This is my classroom,’ he whispered to her as they passed, but she hardly turned her head. She was biting her lip quite hard. Upstairs in Mr. Khanna’s living-room members of the staff and their wives, all dressed up in their best, were already seated in a pre-arranged circle of chairs. Mr. Khanna was standing in the centre; he was talking, and there was a polite titter of laughter in response. When he saw Prem and Indu, he called in a hearty cheery voice: ‘Yes, come in, come in!’ Even Mrs. Khanna smiled a welcome at them. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the new arrivals, chairs were shifted to accommodate them and Mr. Khanna said in a loud hospitable tone, ‘Please be quite comfortable!’ Indu kept her eyes lowered and her face looked quite swollen with embarrassment. Prem kept saying ‘Thank you.’

  ‘As I was saying,’ said Mr. Khanna; he took up his position in the centre again and replaced his thumb in his armpit. ‘It is very pleasant to have the ladies with us. Very agreeable.’ The ladies all stared straight in front of them, without any change of expression. Only Mrs. Khanna said, ‘I think the tea-water is nearly boiling.’

  Mr. Chaddha said, ‘The society of ladies is said to have a very softening effect.’ He was wearing a cream-coloured silk suit which seemed to have been washed quite a number of times, and he sat with his arms and his little bird legs crossed in an attitude of ease suitable to a tea-party.

  ‘It is not for nothing,’ suggested Mr. Khanna, ‘that they are known as the gentle sex.’ Led by Mr. Chaddha, the gentlemen politely laughed. ‘It is good sometimes to break off in the midst of toil,’ Mr. Khanna continued, ‘and enjoy an hour’s leisure and ease in their charming company.’

  ‘As our heroes of old,’ said Mr. Chaddha, ‘withdrew for respite from their battles to have their wounds dressed and their brows soothed by the hands of their consorts.’ He seemed pleased by this remark; he cleared his throat and crossed his legs the other way. The other teachers looked at the Principal, and when they saw him smile in appreciation, they too smiled in appreciation.

  The ladies remained unmoved. They were all seated together in one half of the circle of chairs, while their husbands were segregated in the other half. They held themselves stiff and looked very much aware both of the clothes they were wearing, which were all shining and new, and of the opulent surroundings in which they found themselves—the armchairs, the flowered cushions and curtains, the bright paper flowers in silver vases, the coloured parchment lampshades with long tassels. Only Mrs. Khanna was at ease, in clothes more gorgeous than anyone else’s—wide silk pyjama trousers with a sky-blue shimmering shirt over them patterned all over with vast sprays of lilac on red stems; from time to time she gave a proprietory pat to a cushion or straightened a silver-framed photograph of Mr. Khanna at an academic function.

  ‘Relaxation is necessary to the human mind as well as to the human body,’ said Mr. Khanna. ‘It is like a cool shower-bath we take on a hot day.’ Prem gave a polite laugh, but as no one else laughed, he realized that the remark had not been humorous. He brushed imaginary specks of dust from his knee. ‘Refreshed and revived,’ said the Principal, ‘we then resume our everyday duties with new vigour. I think we are all ready now for the tasty dishes which Mrs. Khanna has prepared.’

  Mrs. Khanna ceremoniously handed to each guest a quarter-plate of flowered English crockery. Everyone sat and held it and patiently waited. In due course dishes of fritters, samusas and sweetmeats were circulated. The ladies were at first so shy that they simply passed them on, without taking anything, so that even when the dishes had gone full circle, the ladies still sat there holding their empty crockery plates. ‘Come come,’ Mr. Khanna humorously rallied them, ‘our ladies must show a better appetite.’ So then they slipped something on to their plates as the dishes passed them, but hastily and furtively as if they wished neither to see nor to be seen. There was silence while all the guests stared into space and chewed as delicately as they could. Only Mr. and Mrs. Khanna ate with a really hearty appetite.

  When everyone had eaten the correct amount sanctioned by good breeding, the servant went round and collected the empty plates. Soon only Mr. and Mrs. Khanna were left with plates. Prem wiped crumbs from his lips with his handkerchief and glanced vaguely round the circle of chairs. He did not want to look at Indu too directly, not so that anyone would notice, but he did just want to see whether everything was all right and she was behaving with the requisite decorum. When, however, his eyes finally reached her, he saw that she still had her plate; and not only did she still have her plate, but she also had rather more sweetmeats on it than was quite correct; and these sweetmeats she was eating with the same concentration and relish she had shown that day sitting on her bed when he had brought some for her in an earthenware pot. He looked away again hastily. He felt very uneasy.

  ‘Well,’ said Mr. Chaddha, planting his hands on his knees and shifting forward on his chair. Everyone looked at him. ‘Well,’ said Mr. Chaddha, ‘I think we all enjoyed that very much.’

  There was a murmur of assent. ‘Excellent,’ said one; ‘a very good tea,’ said another.

  ‘We owe a profound debt of gratitude to our host and hostess,’ Mr. Chaddha said.

  Prem’s eyes stole round to Indu again. She had thrust her head forward to take bites out of a sweetmeat which she held between forefinger and thumb in a rather predatory manner.

  ‘Not only for the sumptuous fare they so generously provided,’ Mr. Chaddha said, ‘but also for giving us the opportunity to have this pleasant social gathering.’ Again there was polite assent. Mr. and Mrs. Khanna put aside their plates and arranged themselves in attentively listening attitudes.

  ‘Such gatherings,’ said Mr. Chaddha, ‘are conducive to goodwill and good fellowship among the members of staff of Khanna Private College.’

  Indu was busily licking her fingers. Only one sweetmeat was left on her plate. The servant came to collect the dishes, but before he could remove them, Indu had quickly taken two more large sweetmeats. Prem’s gaze roved frantically round the circle. Everyone seemed to be looking at Mr. Chaddha.

  ‘Though daily we toil side by side,’ said Mr. Chaddha, ‘yet to develop a proper sense of comradeship we need sometimes to share our moments of ease and leisure too.’

  It was evident to Prem that Indu was by this time quite lost to her surroundings. She was continually biting, chewing, licking her fingers or flicking crumbs from her lips with her tongue. She seemed in a trance of enjoyment. He did not blame her, for he had heard that pregnant women had strange and uncontrollable desires. But he was terrified that others, who did not know of this extenuating circumstance, would notice.

  ‘For it is indeed imperative,’ said Mr. Chaddha, now leaning back, folding his hands over his stomach and looking up at the ceiling, ‘that a sense of comradeship should be fostered among us.’

  If only he could give her some sign. But she was sitting too far away and was too engrossed to look up and meet his eye. Nor could he transmit a message through anyone else. His only possible ally there was Sohan Lal, and Sohan Lal, he saw, was following Mr. Chaddha’s words with close attention; he had his hands clasped on his knee, his head to one side and a somewhat strained look on his face. He looked very different from the way he had done when they had gone to see the swami.

  ‘Asense of comradeship, moreover,’ said Mr. Chaddha, ‘that will survive and triumph over any buffets of fortune that it might be our fate to encounter.’

>   ‘Very well said!’ Mr. Khanna interposed. Others murmured in echo. Prem was afraid it might be noticed he was not paying close attention, so he called rather more loudly than anyone else, ‘Bravo!’ and even clapped his hands. But when people looked at him, he stopped clapping.

  ‘The true value of human intercourse,’ said Mr. Chaddha, ‘lies in the sense of loyalty that is fostered.’

  ‘True,’ said Mr. Khanna, sagely nodding his head.

  The servant came back to clear the remainder of the tea-things away. Mrs. Khanna beckoned to him and pointed out some crumbs that had fallen on to the carpet. Prem sat forward in his seat and twisted his hands in anxiety. The servant bent down to pick the crumbs, one by one, from the carpet, while Mrs. Khanna watched him sternly. Indu ate and ate. ‘And not only loyalty,’ Mr. Chaddha said, beating both fists in the air for emphasis, ‘but also reverence, courage and conviction!’

  Prem glanced again around the circle. The ladies all sat with their hands in their laps, staring in front of them with solemn faces. Their husbands were eagerly craning forward to listen to Mr. Chaddha. The servant had now reached the place where Indu was sitting. Here there were many more crumbs than anywhere else. Mrs. Khanna frowned and her eyes travelled upward to Indu, who was just pushing the remnant of a crumbly ladoo into her mouth. Prem watched and could do nothing. Indu looked up, straight into Mrs. Khanna’s disapproving face. The two fingers with which she was pushing in the ladoo remained poised against her lips. Mrs. Khanna pointed at Indu and said to the servant in a whisper which everyone could hear, ‘There is one plate left over there.’

  Mr. Chaddha modulated his voice to one of softness and affection. ‘What more beautiful feeling can there be than that of friendship?’ he asked and held out a rhetorically appealing hand. The other lecturers breathed a long-drawn ‘Ah’ in appreciation. Prem’s ‘Ah’ came a little later; all his feelings were with Indu, but he did not want to be left out of anything. He leant forward in his chair and pretended to be intent on Mr. Chaddha. Yet he thought more about how he would like to explain the situation to Mrs. Khanna, so that she would not think Indu had never been to a tea-party before and did not know how to behave in society. He wanted to make her understand that Indu’s odd behaviour was due not to lack of breeding but to natural causes.