Island - Aldous Huxley [35]
“Ranga Karakuran,” he announced as he shook Will’s hand.
“If you’d come five minutes earlier,” said Radha, “you’d have had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Bahu.”
“Was he here?” Ranga made a grimace of disgust.
“Is he as bad as all that?” Will asked.
Ranga listed the indictments. “A: He hates us. B: He’s Colonel Dipa’s tame jackal. C: He’s the unofficial ambassador of all the oil companies. D: The old pig made passes at Radha. And E: He goes about giving lectures about the need for a religious revival. He’s even published a book about it. Complete with preface by someone at the Harvard Divinity School. It’s all part of the campaign against Palanese independence. God is Dipa’s alibi. Why can’t criminals be frank about what they’re up to? All this disgusting idealistic hogwash—it makes one vomit.”
Radha stretched out her hand and gave his ear three sharp tweaks.
“You little…” he began angrily; then broke off and laughed. “You’re quite right,” he said. “All the same, you didn’t have to pull quite so hard.”
“Is that what you always do when he gets worked up?” Will enquired of Radha.
“Whenever he gets worked up at the wrong moment, or over things he can’t do anything about.”
Will turned to the boy. “And do you ever have to tweak her ear?”
Ranga laughed. “I find it more satisfactory,” he said, “to smack her bottom. Unfortunately, she rarely needs it.”
“Does that mean she’s better balanced than you are?”
“Better balanced? I tell you, she’s abnormally sane.”
“Whereas you’re merely normal?”
“Maybe a little left of center.” He shook his head. “I get horribly depressed sometimes—feel I’m no good for anything.”
“Whereas in fact,” said Radha, “he’s so good that they’ve given him a scholarship to study biochemistry at the University of Manchester.”
“What do you do with him when he plays these despairing, miserable-sinner tricks on you? Pull his ears?”
“That,” she said, “and…well, other things.” She looked at Ranga and Ranga looked at her. Then they both burst out laughing.
“Quite,” said Will. “Quite. And these other things being what they are,” he went on, “is Ranga looking forward to the prospect of leaving Pala for a couple of years?”
“Not much,” Ranga admitted.
“But he has to go,” said Radha firmly.
“And when he gets there,” Will wondered, “is he going to be happy?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” said Ranga.
“Well, you won’t like the climate, you won’t like the food, you won’t like the noises or the smells or the architecture. But you’ll almost certainly like the work and you’ll probably find that you can like quite a lot of the people.”
“What about the girls?” Radha enquired.
“How do you want me to answer that question?” he asked. “Consolingly or truthfully?”
“Truthfully.”
“Well, my dear, the truth is that Ranga will be a wild success. Dozens of girls are going to find him irresistible. And some of those girls will be charming. How will you feel if he can’t resist?”
“I’ll be glad for his sake.”
Will turned to Ranga. “And will you be glad if she consoles herself, while you’re away, with another boy?”
“I’d like to be,” he said. “But whether I actually shall be glad—that’s another question.”
“Will you make her promise to be faithful?”
“I won’t make her promise anything.”
“Even though she’s your girl?”
“She’s her own girl.”
“And Ranga’s his own boy,” said the little nurse. “He’s free to do what he likes.”
Will thought of Babs’s strawberry-pink alcove and laughed ferociously. “And free above all,” he said, “to do what he doesn’t like.” He looked from one young face to the other and saw that he was being eyed with a certain astonishment. In another tone and with a different kind of smile, “But I’d forgotten,” he added. “One of you is abnormally sane and the other is only a little left of center. So how can you be expected to understand what this mental case from the outside is talking about?” And without leaving them time to answer