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By Root 7546 0

every week-end; the younger was being coached to enter the college. At Hanuman House they were kept separate from the turbulence of the old upstairs. They worked in the drawingroom and slept in one of the bedrooms off it; these bedrooms were small and badly lighted, but their walls felt thick and their very gloom suggested richness and security. The brothers often did the puja in the prayer-room. Despite their age they were admitted into the councils of Seth and Mrs Tulsi and their views were quoted with respect by sisters and brothers-in-law. To assist their scholarship, the best of the food was automatically set aside for them and they were given special brain-feeding meals, of fish in particular. When the brothers made public appearances they were always grave, and sometimes stern. Occasionally they served in the store, sitting near the cashbox, with open textbooks before them.

‘How the gods, eh?’

Shama wouldn’t reply.

‘And how the Big Boss getting on today?’ That was Seth.

Shama wouldn’t reply.

‘And how the old queen?’ That was Mrs Tulsi. ‘The old hen? The old cow?’

‘Well, nobody didn’t ask you to get married into the family, you know.’

‘Family? Family? This blasted fowlrun you calling family?’

And with that Mr Biswas took his brass jar and went to the Demerara window, where he gargled loudly, indulging at the same time in vile abuse of the family, knowing that the gargling distorted his words. Then he spat the water down venomously to the yard below.

‘Careful, man. The kitchen just down there.’

‘I know that. I just hoping I spit on some of your family.’

‘Well, you should be glad that nobody would bother to spit on yours.’

It was a strain, living in a house full of people and talking to one person alone, and after some weeks Mr Biswas decided to look around for alliances. Relationships at Hanuman House were complex and as yet he understood only a few, but he had noted that two friendly sisters made two friendly husbands, and two friendly husbands made two friendly sisters. Friendly sisters exchanged stories of their husbands’ disabilities, the names of illnesses and remedies forcing such discussions to be in English.

‘He got one backache these days.’

‘You must use hartshorn. He did have backache too. He try Dodd’s Kidney Pills and Beecham’s and Carter’s Little Liver Pills and a hundred and one other little pills. But hartshorn did cure him.’

‘He don’t like hartshorn. He prefer Sloan’s Liniment and Canadian Healing Oil.’

‘And he don’t like Sloan’s Liniment.’

Friendly sisters sealed their friendship by being frank about the other’s children and even by flogging them on occasion. When the flogged child, unaware of the relationship between the mothers, complained, his mother would say, ‘Serve you right. I am glad your aunt is laying her hand on you. She will keep you straight.’ And the mother of the beaten child would wait her turn to do some beating among the other’s children.

Between Shama and C there was a noticeable friendship and Mr Biswas decided to make overtures to C’s husband, the former coconut-seller, whose name was Govind. He was tall and well-built and handsome, though in a conventional, unremarkable way. Mr Biswas thought it unseemly that someone so well-made should have been a coconut-seller, and should now do manual work in the fields. And Mr Biswas was pained to see Govind in the presence of Seth. His handsome face became weak in every way. His eyes became small and bright and restless; he stammered and swallowed and gave nervous little laughs. And afterwards, when, released, he sat down at the long pitchpine table to eat, he changed again. Talking loudly and breathlessly, snorting and sighing, he assaulted his food, as though anxious to show enthusiasm even in that activity, anxious to prove that hard work had given him an indiscriminate appetite, and anxious at the same time to proclaim that food didn’t matter to him.

Mr Biswas thought of Govind as a fellow sufferer, but one who had surrendered to the Tulsis and been degraded. He had forgotten his own reputation as a buffoon and troublemaker,