Raja Rao - Collected Stories

‘We still live in the old Verandah-House,’ said Ramu. In fact he had never heard of such a plan. He was still rummaging through his memory to find out who Hosakere Nanjundayya was. Neither his sister-in-law nor his brother Shama, nor in fact the talkative Bhatta, had ever spoken of a Hosakere Nanjundayya. Strange! So very strange. Absurd.

They were now in Chikpet, and Nanjundayya insisted on taking Ramu to the Udipi Coffee House. Ramu refused at first, but when Nanjundayya forced him with threats and prayers, he accepted, and they went in. The Coffee House was full. But they found a comfortable corner near the kitchen door.

‘Now tell me, Ramu, my son,’ said Nanjundayya, as soon as they were seated, ‘what will you have, dosè or uppittu ?’ What kindness! What respectful friendliness! Ramu said with his usual sense of politeness that he did not want anything. But Nanjundayya was a man of experience. He knew a man by his face. A few kind words and Ramu said he would have uppittu.

‘Lakshmana,’ shouted Nanjundayya, familiarly and authoritatively. A curly-haired, bright-eyed, intelligent-looking, immaculately-dressed young boy came running, with an amused, almost mocking smile upon his face.

‘What ho! Nanjundayya, it is ages since I have seen you. Perhaps you haven’t had enough clients.’

Clients! Ramu was startled. Why, the old man had just said Government Service was so damnable. . And clients! But then, he said he had retired from service. Perhaps he is a clerk to some lawyer. So many retired people become clerks to pleaders and advocates. But why did the boy smile so mockingly? No, no. Perhaps Nanjundayya comes here often. The boy was just joking with familiarity. Surely. .

Meanwhile somebody called Nanjundayya from behind. Ramu turned back. The man looked crude and malicious. ‘What, my dear Nanjundayya,’ the man shouted teasingly, and his ‘dear’ was interminably long and emphatic, ‘What, my dear, dear Nanjundayya, does the world still go round and round, my man? Ahum! With your gold-laced turban, your beautiful velvet coat, your gold-laced dhoti, you look, my young man, a veritable bridegroom. What! Whose daughter? The Prime Minister’s or the Maharaja’s, hè? ’ Lord! This very devil, this villain of a Vishwanath, to come here, here. . and at this moment. . Nanjundayya was furious. And with a violence that seemed strange in that smiling, sentimental old man, he howled: ‘Get away, you impertinent man, get away! Do not display your monkey tricks before respectable company! Go your way, you devil!’ And turning to Ramu Nanjundayya gave a broad, triumphant smile. This devil was not his friend! No! The brute took undue liberties of familiarity. How Nanjundayya had spat on him. Couldn’t get away with it. Isn’t that so, Ramu?

Vishwanath was gone. He laughed heartily, amused at the serious air of Nanjundayya. Harsh words did not matter to him. He was accustomed to it. He was a professional jester. He sat not far from them, chattering away to a young man who laughed so contentedly that he spat out the coffee that he had half-swallowed. Ramu was burning with anger. He detested them all.

Now the uppittu was brought. And munching it, they continued to talk.

‘Then you do not know anything about my Srinivasan?’

‘No.’

‘Anyway, you must come with me and meet my wife and children. After we leave the Coffee House you will come along with me. You will, my son, won’t you?’

‘I would very willingly have come. But, you see, my exams are approaching. . ’

‘Exams! Exams! Why, for a brilliant boy like you, why this fear of the examinations? Being first in all the examinations, you cannot plead with me that you are afraid of them! No, you cannot!’ It was a painful blow to Ramu. First! Why, if only he could get through, merely have the minimum. First! Yes, in Hassan High School. Not here. Not here. He felt humiliated. He felt angry. The cat suddenly appeared at the window, glared at him, and disappeared. Was he only talking in his dream?

‘Anyhow, look here, my son,’ Nanjundayya was shouting at Ramu trying to make him more attentive to his talk, ‘Do you mean to say examinations are the end and aim of all your existence? It is because of these examinations that we have become such slaves, losing our ancient traditions and our self-respect. Do you know what Mahatma Gandhi thinks of it? He thinks it to be one of the most pernicious elements of our modern life. Do you listen to me, my son? And after all what does it matter in these days whether you are a BA or MA? All get the same thirty or forty rupees a month. And even to get that, what fortitudes, what briberies, what dust-licking humiliations one has to bear. But, Ramu,’ he corrected himself, patting the other’s back, ‘no, no, I do not mean that you will be one of these twenty-five or thirty-rupee clerks! Oh, Ramu! I swear to you on the spirits of my ancestors, no, I did not mean it. I am sure as the hawk knows its prey that you will have ten such clerks under you.’

‘With your blessings,’ said Ramu politely.

‘My blessings,’ cried out Nanjundayya, bursting with milky enthusiasm, ‘well, my blessings are always with you, always, always! Why, Ramu, if I did not give my blessings to you, who else do you think should have them? For all the food that I have eaten in your father’s house, and for all the affection I have received from your family, could I not be even so generous as to give you my blessings? You will get through all your examinations brilliantly, and marrying a rich man’s daughter you will be a big official of His Highness the Maharaja’s Government. But when you are a Commissioner or a Judge, do not forget this poor Nanjundayya, my son. . Oh! do not. .

The word marriage disturbed Ramu. How often had he not racked his brains with it? From the day he had discussed with Jayalakshmi the unhappiness of most of the couples where the man is ‘modern’ and the wife of the old, traditional world, he somehow could not find peace within himself. He saw nothing clearly. To marry an uneducated girl, and be unhappy all one’s life, then. . To marry for money! Well, it would help one for a moment. But afterwards. . To have one’s life ruined because of a few rupees! Oh, no! How horrible. . But then, how long to live like this. . cooking. . washing. . sweeping. . counting each pie as though it contained the germ of eternal happiness. Impossible! A good marriage is profitable for the moment. . A room overlooking a spacious garden. . A smiling wife bringing in hot coffee. . The langour. . The mother-in-law’s supplications. . A veritable small divinity. . Books on the shelf, beautiful green, blue, golden books. An electric light at the bedside. . No smell of kerosene oil. . Work till midnight. . Exams. . ‘How have you done, Ramu?’ ‘Not bad.’ (In his heart: ‘Excellent!’) Results. . Ramu first! The eager, envious, flattering looks of the class-fellows. And all Hariharapura shouting his glory.

‘No, I will not forget you,’ mumbled Ramu, pursuing his own thoughts.

‘Let us see. Let us see,’ chuckled Nanjundayya. ‘Don’t I know these assurances! When you will be, say, a District Judge, and I come to you, you will ask the servant to tell me that you are either too busy or too tired to receive anybody, and thus politely turn me out. How many such cases have I not heard of or seen. Could you believe me, Executive Engineer Ramaswamy is my own father’s aunt’s grandson. And yet when I went to see him the other day, he sent word through his peon to say he was going out and that he could not receive me at the moment. And again, take Chandrasekharayya. Yes, Chandrasekharayya the Minister. He is my own cousin. . that is, my grandfather’s brother’s grandson. Today when he was passing by Chikpet in his new car, I greeted him and he did not even return it. Oh, Ramu, what shall I say of all the others who are my closest relations, and friends, and with whom I have played when I was a child? You see, my son, it is all due to this pernicious system of education. Yes, I know, Ramu, you will never treat me like that. I am sure you will not. What a dear fellow you are.’ He patted Ramu again enthusiastically. But poor Ramu! The idea that he would be a big government official at once flattered and disquieted him. Would he get to be a big man? A man of distinction and authority? Perhaps never. . But who could say? The future might hold pearls in its palms. Engineer? Minister? No, never.