Ruth Prawer Jhabvala - Heat and Dust

"Darling, he wants to go."

"Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn't. "

"That's too subtle for me. Anyway, he ought to want to. "

"Are you tired of having him here?"

"On the contrary. I'm glad he is here. Better than being over there. "

"But the Nawab has been so kind to him! Terribly kind!"

"Tomorrow I'll send someone over for his luggage. "

"Douglas, are you sure, darling. "

But on the next day- a Sunday-the Nawab came himself.

Olivia and Douglas had been to church, and when they got home, the Nawab's Rolls was outside the house; and the Nawab himself in the drawing room with Harry who was still in his pyjamas and dressing-gown. They looked as if they had already had a long and intimate conversation together.

When the Nawab said he had come to take Harry home, Douglas stiffened. The Nawab became more cordial, he said thank you very much for keeping him; and added, "Now all is quiet at Khatm, he need not be afraid any longer." He smiled at Harry who smiled back, bashfully.

Douglas clenched his jaws; there was a little muscle working in them. The Nawab said "You have probably heard that we had a little trouble."

Douglas stared straight ahead of him. He and the Nawab were both standing. They were the same height and almost the same build. Olivia and Harry, seated on sofas, looked up at them.

"It happens every year," the Nawab said. "It is nothing much. They get hot — they become cool again. It is like the weather in its season. "

"We saw your casualty lists," Douglas said in a strangled voice.

"But why are you standing!" Olivia cried. No one heard her.

"It happens every year," the Nawab repeated. "There is nothing to be done. "

Douglas turned aside his face. He had to be silent — the Nawab was an independent ruler, and the only person who could speak to him was Major Minnies. But Douglas' silence was eloquent of all he could have said, and of his thoughts.

The Nawab turned to Harry: "Get dressed. We are going. "

Harry got up at once but, before he could leave the room, Douglas said "I believe the Ross-Milbanks are expected tomorrow afternoon. "

Harry stopped by the door; the Nawab asked him in a casual way" Who are they? Are they your friends?"

"They leave on Thursday," Douglas said.

"Oh for Bombay?" the Nawab said. "Yes Harry has told me about that, but it is cancelled now. My dear fellow, please get dressed, you don't expect me to take you home in this state I hope." He turned and smiled at Olivia.

Douglas told Harry: "Mr. Crawford has heard from Bombay. It's all right about the berth. "

The Nawab now sat down in an armchair. He leaned back, crossed his legs. He told Douglas: "Harry and I have talked about it. It has all been a misunderstanding. I shall apologise to Mr. and Mrs. Crawford and thank them for their kind efforts on behalf of my guest. I shall also thank, " he added generously, "Mr. and Mrs. Ross-Milbank. "

Douglas made no bones about addressing only Harry:

"You wanted to go. Your mother's ill."

The Nawab said: " We have to be very thankful: Mother is better, she has recovered her health… And now we are very much looking forward to her visit. My Mother has written to invite her — her letter is in Urdu, written in her own hand, and I myself have made a translation into English and also added: 'You now have not one son but two and both your sons are eager for your visit.,, He leaned back further in his chair and crossed his legs the other way, pleased with the correct way in which everything had been done.

Harry took a deep breath and told Douglas: "Thanks awfully for having me. It's true, you know — I do want to go back to the Palace. We talked it over' before you came, as he told you. I do want to. "

" You don't have to,” Douglas told him from the other side of the room.

"I want to," Harry said.

The Nawab burst out laughing, "But don't you see, Mr. and Mrs. Rivers, he is like a child that doesn't know what it wants! We others have to decide everything for him. Just see," he said, "it is I who have to tell him get dressed, Harry, this is not the way to stand before a lady, go and get ready, comb your hair nicely." He gave a quick playful stroke at Harry's head and they both smiled as if it were an old joke between them. "Go," said the Nawab with tender strictness, and when Harry had gone, he turned to the other two: "Did you know," he asked them very seriously, "that Harry is a very selfish person?" Then he sighed and said" But what can I do — I have grown fond of him, he has his place here." He placed his hand on his heart.

Olivia looked quickly at Douglas. She was sorry to see that he remained as before. For herself, she had no doubt at all that the Nawab was utterly sincere: so that she was even somewhat envious of Harry for having inspired such a depth of love and friendship.

* * * *

25 April. Chid and I have now both merged into the landscape: we are part of the town, part of people's lives here, and have been completely accepted. The town is used to accepting and merging all sorts of different elements — for instance, the grand old tombs of Mohammedan royalty on the one hand and the little grey suttee stones on the other. There are also the town's cripples, idiots, and resident beggars. They move around the streets and, whenever anything of interest is going on, they rush up and form part of the crowd. Like everyone else, I have got used to them now — as they have to me — but I must admit that in the beginning I couldn't help shrinking a bit. Some diseases, even when cured, leave people so unsightly that for the rest of their lives they have to move among their fellows as' living examples of all the terrible things that can happen to a man. One of the beggars is a cured leper — it burnt-out case whose nose, fingers, and toes have dropped off; he lives in a hut some distance out of town but is' allowed to come in and beg, provided he keeps at a proper distance. Then there is an old man who I think has St. Vitus's dance-his body is twisted around a long pole he carries and he hops along twitching and jigging like a puppet. It is not only the poor and the beggars who have afflictions. One of the most prosperous shopkeepers in town who is also a moneylender suffers from elephantiasis and can be seen sitting in his shop with his scrotum, swollen literally to the size of a football, resting on a special little cushion in front of him.

Dust storms have started blowing all day, all night. Hot winds whistle columns of dust out of the desert into the town; the air is choked with dust and so are all one's senses. Leaves that were once green are now ashen, and they toss around as in a dervish dance. Everyone is restless, irritable, on the edge of something. It is impossible to sit, stand, lie, every position is uncomfortable; and one's mind too is in turmoil.

Chid doesn't seem to be affected by the weather. He sits for hours together in the lotus pose, his lips moving on his mantra and his fingers on his beads: and this goes on and on and seems somehow so mindless that it drives me crazy. It is as if all reason and common sense are being drained out of the air. Every now and again he gets those monstrous erections of his and I have to fight him off (quite apart from anything else, it's just too hot). He is also dirty — bathing is one Hindu ritual he doesn't practise — and since he doesn't believe in possessions for himself he thinks other people shouldn't have any either. I have had to start hiding my money, but he is quite clever at finding it.

Today I got so exasperated with him, I threw him out. I just bundled up his belongings and flung them down the stairs. His brass mug bounced down the steps and was caught at the bottom of them by Ritu who had chosen that moment to come and visit me. Chid gathered up his things and, following her back upstairs, laid them out again in their former place.