Vikram Seth - A Suitable Boy

‘Shall I set it down here, Madam?’

‘Yes, do.’ Kakoli ignored the sarcasm.

‘Will that be all, Madam?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes what?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘I was going to ask for a good-morning kiss, but that Lacto Calamine looks so disgusting I think I’ll defer it.’

Kakoli surveyed Amit severely. ‘You are a horrible, insensitive person,’ she informed him. ‘I don’t know why women swoooooon over your poetry.’

‘That’s because my poetry is so sensitive,’ said Amit.

‘I pity the girl who marries you. I reeeeeally pity her.’

‘And I pity the man who marries you. I reeeeeeally pity him. By the way, was that my future brother-in-law you were going to call? The nutcracker?’

‘The nutcracker?’

Amit held out his right hand as if shaking it with an invisible man. Slowly his mouth opened in shock and agony.

‘Do go away, Amit, you’ve spoilt my mood completely,’ said Kakoli.

‘What there was to spoil,’ said Amit.

‘When I say anything about the women you’re interested in you get very peeved.’

‘Like who? Jane Austen?’

‘May I make my phone call in peace and privacy?’

‘Yes, yes, Kuku Baby,’ said Amit, succeeding in being both sarcastic and placatory, ‘I’m just going, I’m just going. See you at breakfast.’

The Chatterji family at breakfast presented a scene of cordial conflict. It was an intelligent family where everyone thought of everyone else as an idiot. Some people thought the Chatterjis obnoxious because they appeared to enjoy each other’s company even more than the company of others. But if they had dropped by at the Chatterjis’ for breakfast and seen them bickering, they would probably have disliked them less.

Mr Justice Chatterji sat at the head of the table. Though small in size, short-sighted, and fairly absent-minded, he was a man of some dignity. He inspired respect in court and a sort of obedience even in his eccentric family. He didn’t like to talk more than was necessary.

‘Anyone who likes mixed fruit jam is a lunatic,’ said Amit.

‘Are you calling me a lunatic?’ asked Kakoli.

‘No, of course not, Kuku, I’m working from general principles. Please pass me the butter.’

‘You can reach for it yourself,’ said Kuku.

‘Now, now, Kuku,’ murmured Mrs Chatterji.

‘I can’t,’ protested Amit. ‘My hand’s been crushed.’

Tapan laughed. Kakoli gave him a black look, then began to look glum in preparation for a request.

‘I need the car today, Baba,’ said Kuku after a few seconds. ‘I have to go out. I need it for the whole day.’

‘But Baba,’ said Tapan, ‘I’m spending the day with Pankaj.’

‘I really must go to Hamilton’s this morning to get the silver inkstand back,’ said Mrs Chatterji.

Mr Justice Chatterji raised his eyebrows. ‘Amit?’ he asked.

‘No bid,’ said Amit.

Dipankar, who also declined transport, wondered aloud why Kuku was looking so wistful. Kuku frowned.

Amit and Tapan promptly began an antiphonal chant.

‘We look before and after, and pine for what is—’

‘NOT!’

‘Our sincerest laughter with some pain is—’

‘FROT!’

‘Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest—’

‘THOT!’ cried Tapan jubilantly, for he hero-worshipped Amit.

‘Don’t worry, darling,’ said Mrs Chatterji comfortingly; ‘everything will come out all right in the end.’

‘You don’t have any idea what I was thinking of,’ countered Kakoli.

‘You mean who,’ said Tapan.

‘You be quiet, you amoeba,’ said Kakoli.

‘He seemed a nice enough chap,’ ventured Dipankar.

‘Oh no, he’s just a glamdip,’ countered Amit.

‘Glamdip? Glamdip? Have I missed something?’ asked their father.

Mrs Chatterji looked equally mystified. ‘Yes, what is a glamdip, darling?’ she asked Amit.

‘A glamorous diplomat,’ replied Amit. ‘Very vacant, very charming. The kind of person whom Meenakshi used to sigh after. And talking of which, one of them is coming around to visit me this morning. He wants to ask me about culture and literature.’

‘Really, Amit?’ asked Mrs Chatterji eagerly. ‘Who?’

‘Some South American ambassador — from Peru or Chile or somewhere,’ said Amit, ‘with an interest in the arts. I got a phone call from Delhi a week or two ago, and we fixed it up. Or was it Bolivia? He wanted to meet an author on his visit to Calcutta. I doubt he’s read anything by me.’

Mrs Chatterji looked flustered. ‘But then I must make sure that everything is in order—’ she said. ‘And you told Biswas Babu you’d see him this morning.’

‘So I did, so I did,’ agreed Amit. ‘And so I will.’

‘He is not just a glamdip,’ said Kakoli suddenly. ‘You’ve hardly met him.’

‘No, he is a good boy for our Kuku,’ said Tapan. ‘He is so shinsheer.’

This was one of Biswas Babu’s adjectives of high praise. Kuku felt that Tapan should have his ears boxed.

‘I like Hans,’ said Dipankar. ‘He was very polite to the man who told him to drink the juice of bitter gourds. He does have a good heart.’

‘O my darling, don’t be heartless.

Hold my hand. Let us be partless,’

murmured Amit.

‘But don’t hold it too hard,’ laughed Tapan.

‘Stop it!’ cried Kuku. ‘You are all being utterly horrible.’

‘He is good wedding-bell material for our Kuku,’ continued Tapan, tempting retribution.

‘Wedding bell? Or bedding well?’ asked Amit. Tapan grinned delightedly.

‘Now, that’s enough, Amit,’ said Mr Justice Chatterji before his wife could intervene. ‘No bloodshed at breakfast. Let’s talk about something else.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Kuku. ‘Like the way Amit was mooning over Lata last night.’

‘Over Lata?’ said Amit, genuinely astonished.

‘Over Lata?’ repeated Kuku, imitating him.

‘Really, Kuku, love has destroyed your brain,’ said Amit. ‘I didn’t notice I was spending any time with her at all.’

‘No, I’m sure you didn’t.’

‘She’s just a nice girl, that’s all,’ said Amit. ‘If Meenakshi hadn’t been so busy gossiping and Arun making contacts I wouldn’t have assumed any responsibility for her at all.’

‘So we needn’t invite her over unnecessarily while she’s in Calcutta,’ murmured Kuku.

Mrs Chatterji said nothing, but had begun to look anxious.

‘I’ll invite whoever I like over,’ said Amit. ‘You, Kuku, invited fifty-odd people to the party last night.’

‘Fifty odd people,’ Tapan couldn’t resist saying.

Kuku turned on him severely.

‘Little boys shouldn’t interrupt adult conversations,’ she said.

Tapan, from the safety of the other side of the table, made a face at her. Once Kuku had actually got so incensed she had chased him around the table, but usually she was sluggish till noon.

‘Yes,’ Amit frowned. ‘Some of them were very odd, Kuku. Who is that fellow Krishnan? Dark chap, south Indian, I imagine. He was glaring at you and your Second Secretary very resentfully.’

‘Oh, he’s just a friend,’ said Kuku, spreading her butter with more than usual concentration. ‘I suppose he’s annoyed with me.’

Amit could not resist delivering a Kakoli-couplet:

‘What is Krishnan in the end?

Just a mushroom, just a friend.’

Tapan continued:

‘Always eating dosa-iddly,

Drinking beer and going piddly!’

‘Tapan!’ gasped his mother.

Amit, Meenakshi and Kuku, it appeared, had completely corrupted her baby with their stupid rhyming.

Mr Justice Chatterji put down his toast. ‘That’s enough from you, Tapan,’ he said.