Vikram Seth - A Suitable Boy

‘Oh.’

‘And Ma, being Ma, has been glutting away at them without regard for her diabetes.’

Arun shook his head. As if he didn’t have troubles enough already. His mother was incorrigible. Tomorrow she’d complain that she wasn’t feeling well, and he’d have to take her to the doctor. Mother, sister, daughter, wife: he suddenly felt trapped — a whole bloody household of women. And the feckless Varun to boot.

‘Where’s Varun?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Meenakshi. ‘He hasn’t returned, and he hasn’t called. I don’t think he has, anyway. I’ve been taking a nap.’

Arun sighed.

‘I’ve been dreaming about you,’ lied Meenakshi.

‘You have?’ asked Arun, mollified. ‘Let’s—’

‘Oh, later, don’t you think, darling?’ said Meenakshi coolly. ‘We have to go out this evening.’

‘Isn’t there any bloody evening when we don’t go out?’ asked Arun.

Meenakshi shrugged, as if to say that most of the engagements were not of her making.

‘I wish I were a bachelor again.’ Arun had said it without meaning to.

Meenakshi’s eyes flamed. ‘If you want to be like that—’ she began.

‘No, no, I don’t mean it. It’s just this bloody stress. And my back’s playing up again.’

‘I don’t find Varun’s bachelor life all that admirable,’ said Meenakshi.

Nor did Arun. He shook his head again, and sighed. He looked exhausted.

Poor Arun, thought Meenakshi. ‘Tea — or a drink, darling?’ she said.

‘Tea,’ said Arun. ‘Tea. A nice cup of tea. A drink can wait.’

Varun had not yet returned because he was busy gambling and smoking in Sajid’s house in Park Lane, a street that was seedier than it sounded. Sajid, Jason, Varun and a few other friends were sitting on Sajid’s huge bed upstairs, and playing flush: starting from one anna blind, two annas seen. Today, as on a few other occasions, they were joined by Sajid’s downstairs tenants, Paul and his sister Hortense. Hortense (referred to by Sajid and his friends among themselves as ‘Hot-Ends’) was sitting on the lap of her boyfriend (a ship’s purser) and playing on his behalf from that position. The stakes had risen to four annas blind, eight annas seen — the maximum they ever allowed themselves. Everyone was jittery, and people were packing in their hands left and right. Eventually only Varun, who was extremely nervous, and Hot-Ends, who was extremely calm, were left.

‘Just Varun and Hortense alone together,’ said Sajid. ‘It’ll really hot up now.’

Varun flushed deep red and almost dropped his cards. It was common knowledge among the friends (but not to Hortense’s boyfriend the purser) that Paul — who was otherwise unemployed — pimped for his sister whenever her boyfriend was out of town. God knows where he went to get his customers, but he would sometimes come back late in the evening with a businessman in a taxi, and stand, smoking Rhodes Navy Cut, at the foot of the stairs or outside on the steps while Hortense and her client got on with it.

‘A royal flush,’ said Jason, referring to Varun’s expression.

Varun, trembling with nervous tension and glancing at his cards for reassurance, whispered, ‘I’ll stay in.’ He put an eight-anna coin in the kitty, which now contained almost five rupees.

Hot-Ends, without glancing at her cards, or at anyone, and with as blasé an expression as she could manage, wordlessly pushed another eight annas into the pool. Her boyfriend moved his finger up and down the hollow of her throat, and she leaned back.

Varun, his tongue passing nervously over his lips and his eyes glazed with excitement, staked another eight annas. Hot-Ends, looking straight at him this time, and holding his frightened and fascinated glance with her own, said, as huskily as possible: ‘Oh you greedy boy! You just want to take advantage of me. Well, I’ll give you what you want.’ And she put another eight annas into the kitty.

Varun could bear it no longer. Weak with suspense and terrified by what her hand might reveal, he asked for a show. Hot-Ends had a King, Queen and Jack of spades. Varun almost collapsed with relief. He had an Ace, King and Queen of diamonds.

But he looked as shattered as if he had lost. He begged his friends to excuse him and let him go home.

‘Not a chance!’ said Sajid. ‘You can’t just make a packet and disappear. You have to fight to keep it.’

And Varun promptly lost all his winnings (and more) over the next few games. Everything I do goes wrong, he thought to himself as he returned home in the tram. I am a useless person — useless — and a disgrace to the family. Thinking of how Hot-Ends had looked at him, he began to get nervous again, and wondered if more trouble was not in store for him if he continued to associate with his Shamshu friends.

The morning that Mrs Rupa Mehra was about to leave for Delhi, the Mehra family was sitting at the breakfast table. Arun as usual was doing the crossword. After a while he looked at a few other pages.

‘You could at least talk to me,’ said Mrs Rupa Mehra. ‘I am leaving today, and you are hiding behind your newspaper.’

Arun looked up. ‘Listen to this, Ma,’ he said. ‘Just the thing for you.’ And he read out an advertisement from the paper in a sarcastic voice:

‘Diabetes cured in Seven Days. No matter how severe or longstanding, Diabetes can be completely cured by VENUS CHARM, the very latest Scientific Discovery. Some of the main symptoms of this disease are Abnormal thirst and hunger, Excess sugar in urine and Itching etc. In its serious form it causes Carbuncles, Boils, Cataract and other complications. Thousands have escaped from the gallows of death by using VENUS CHARM. The very next day it eradicates sugar and normalises specific gravity. Within 2 or 3 days you will feel more than half cured. No dietary restrictions. Price per phial of 50 tablets 6 rupees 12 annas. Postage free. Available from Venus Research Laboratory (N.H.) Post Box 587. Calcutta.’

Mrs Rupa Mehra had begun weeping silently. ‘I hope you never get diabetes,’ she said to her elder son. ‘Make as much fun of me as you like now, but—’

‘But when you are dead and gone — the pyre — the empty chair — yes, yes, we know the rest,’ continued Arun rather brutally.

His back had been acting up the previous night, and Meenakshi had not been satisfied with his performance.

‘Shut up, Arun Bhai!’ said Varun, his face white and twitching with anger. He went to his mother and put his arm around her shoulder.

‘Don’t speak to me like that,’ said Arun, getting up and advancing menacingly towards Varun. ‘“Shut up”? Did you say “Shut up” to me? Get out at once. Get out!’ He was working himself into a fit of rage. ‘Get out!’ he bellowed once more.

It was unclear whether he wanted Varun out of the room, the house or his life.

‘Arun Bhai, really—’ protested Lata indignantly.

Varun flinched, and retreated to the other side of the table.

‘Oh do sit down, both of you,’ said Meenakshi. ‘Let’s have breakfast in peace.’

Both of them sat down. Arun glared at Varun, Varun glared at his egg.

‘And he won’t even provide me with a car to get to the station,’ continued Mrs Rupa Mehra, reaching into her black bag for a handkerchief. ‘I have to depend on the charity of strangers.’

‘Really, Ma,’ said Lata, putting her arm around her mother and kissing her. ‘Amit is hardly a stranger.’

Mrs Rupa Mehra’s shoulders became tense.

‘You also,’ she said to Lata. ‘You have no care for my feelings.’

‘Ma!’ said Lata.

‘You will be gallivanting around merrily. Only my darling Aparna will be sorry to see me go.’