Interpreter of Maladies - Jhumpa Lahiri [20]
"Look," Bobby said as the car began to gather speed. He pointed with his fingers to the tall trees that lined the road. "Look" "Monkeys!" Ronny shrieked. "Wow!" They were seated in groups along the branches, with shining black faces, silver bodies, horizontal eyebrows, and crested heads. Their long gray tails dangled like a series of ropes among the leaves. A few scratched themselves with black leathery hands, or swung their feet, staring as the car passed.
"We call them the hanuman," Mr. Kapasi said. "They are quite common in the area."
As soon as he spoke, one of the monkeys leaped into the middle of the road, causing Mr. Kapasi to brake suddenly. Another bounced onto the hood of the car, then sprang away. Mr. Kapasi beeped his horn. The children began to get excited, sucking in their breath and covering their faces partly with their hands. They had never seen monkeys outside of a zoo, Mr. Das explained. He asked Mr. Kapasi to stop the car so that he could take a picture.
While Mr. Das adjusted his telephoto lens, Mrs. Das reached into her straw bag and pulled out a bottle of colorless nail polish, which she proceeded to stroke on her index finger.
The little girl stuck out a hand. "Mine too. Mommy, do mine too."
"Leave me alone." Mrs. Das said, blowing on her nail and turning her body slightly. "You're making me mess up."
"All set," Mr. Das said, replacing the lens cap.
The car rattled considerably as it raced along the
dusty road, causing them all to pop up from their seats
every now and then, but Mrs. Das continued lo polish her nails. Mr. Kapasi eased up on the accelerator, hoping to produce a smoother ride. When he reached for the gearshift the boy in front accommodated him by swinging his hairless knees out of the way. Mr. Kapasi noted that this boy was slightly paler than the other children.
"Daddy, why is the driver sitting on the wrong side in this car, too?" the boy asked.
"They all do it here, dummy," Ronnie said. "Don't call your brother a dummy," Mr. Das said. He turned to Mr. Kapasi. "In America, you know... it confuses them."
"Oh yes, I am well aware," Mr. Kapasi said. As delicately as he could, he shifted gears again accelerating as he approached a hill in the road. "I see it on Dallas, the steering wheels are on the left-hand side." "What's Dallas?" Tina asked, banging her now naked doll on the seat behind Mr. Kapasi.
"It went off the air," Mr. Das explained. "It's a television show."
They were all like siblings. Mr. Kapasi thought as they passed a row of date trees. Mr. and Mrs. Das behaved like an older brother and sister, not parents. It seemed that they were in charge of the children only for the day; it was hard to believe they were regularly responsible for anything other than themselves. Mr. Das tapped on his lens cap, and his tour book, dragging his thumbnail occasionally across die pages so that they made a scraping sound. Mrs. Das continued to polish her nails. She had still not removed her sunglasses.
Every now and then Tina renewed her plea that she wanted her nails done, too, and so at one point Mrs. Das flicked a drop of polish on the little girl's finger before depositing bottle back to her straw bag. "Isn't this an air-conditioned car?" she asked, still blowing on her hand. The window on Tina's side was broken and could not be rolled down. "Quit complaining," Mr. Das said. "It's not so hot."
"I told you to get a car with air-conditioning," Mrs. Das continued. "Why do you do this, Raj, just to save a few stupid rupees. What are