Ruth Prawer Jhabvala - Heat and Dust

"Debussy," she said. "Schumann. It's so… unsuitable."

She laughed.

"It suits me," Harry said.

"Here?"

"Why not?" He looked around her room and repeated "Why not. You've made it very nice in here. Very nice indeed. " He settled deeper into his chair as if never wanting to leave again: "The Oasis, "he said.

"Don't start that again please." It really irritated her. "I can't see why anyone should want an oasis. Why it should be necessary."

"Goodness," he said, "how tough you are, Olivia, who'd have thought it… And you're never ill either, are you."

"Of course not. Why should I be." She was quite scornful.

"That's all just psychological.”

"Last night I was so bad again. And I haven't eaten Indian food in weeks. I don't know what it's due to."

"I told you: psychological."

"You may be right. I'm certainly feeling quite psychological… In fact I'm feeling," he said, shutting his eyes again but this time in pain, "as if I couldn't stand it another day." And he sounded as if he really couldn't.

She tried to be sympathetic but could not overcome her impatience. For one thing, she was so impatient to be off! And he just sat there, not wanting to move. From the servant quarters came the sound of a voice chanting and a drum being beaten in accompaniment, both on one fiat note and without pause in absolute monotony.

"It's like brain fever.” Harry said.

"What?… Oh, that. I don't hear it any more. It's been going on for days. There's always something like that going on in the quarters. Someone dying or getting born or married. I think it may be why I don't play the piano much any more. I mean, it doesn't exactly harmonise, does it… Harry, we must go or we'll die of heat on the road."

"I don't want to go," he said.

She had a moment of panic. Her voice trembled: "What about the car?"

"We'll send it back."

Olivia stared at the tips of her white shoes. She sat very still. Harry watched her but she pretended not to notice. At last he said: "What's the matter with you, Olivia?" He spoke very gently. "Why are you so eager to go?"

"We're expected." Hearing how lame that sounded, she became more irritated with him: "And you don't think I like sitting around here all day, day after day, staring at the wall and waiting for Douglas to come home, do you? I can well see how people can go batty that way… like Mrs. Saunders. Just sitting inside the house and imagining things. I don't want to become like Mrs. Saunders. But if I go on sitting here by myself, I shall."

"Is that why you like to come to the Palace?"

"Douglas knows I go to the Palace. He knew about Dr. Saunders coming there — he spoke to him himself — and that I'd been to see you."

"Yes to, see me."

This hung on the air and did not cease to do so after she replied "You're jealous, Harry, that's what it is. Yes you are!" She laughed. "You want to be the only one — I mean," she said, "in the Palace, the only guest there." She said this last bit quickly but not quickly enough. She was blushing now and felt entangled.

"All right, "he said." We'll go."

He got up and moved to the door, putting on his solar topee. She felt that now — out of pride, or to prove her innocence — she ought to be the one to hang back. She hesitated for a moment but found that she did not, after all, have enough pride (or innocence) for that. She followed him quite quickly to the car.

That journey was uncomfortable, and not only because of heat and dust. They hardly spoke as if angry with each other. Yet Olivia was not angry, and once or twice she did try to talk to him but what came out might as well have been left unsaid. She could not bring herself to speak about what was disturbing her — she was afraid that, if she did, she might say more than she meant; or he might misinterpret whatever it was she did mean.

Suddenly Harry said "There he is."

A red open sports car was parked across the road. As they approached, the Nawab, wearing a checked cap and motorist's goggles, stood up in it and made traffic policeman gestures. They stopped, he said "Where have you been? I have been waiting and waiting. "

He had come to meet them because he wanted to go to Baba Firdaus' shrine. He was tired of being shut up in the Palace, he said. He invited them to climb into his sports car which he was driving himself. When Harry said he didn't feel like it, he wanted to go home, the Nawab wanted no more time on him but said "You come, Olivia."

She too wasted no time on Harry but got in beside the Nawab. They drove away in one direction while the chauffeur drove Harry in the other. He could be seen sitting alone at the back of the limousine, looking pale and cross.

"Why is he so cross?" the Nawab asked Olivia. "Do you think he is ill? Is he ill? Has he said anything to you?"

He was deeply concerned and continued, for most of the way, to talk about Harry. He said he knew Harry was often homesick and wanted to go back to England to see his mother; and the Nawab wanted him to go but at the same time — "Olivia, can you understand this, does it sound very selfish" — he could not bring himself to part with him. "I can see you think I am very selfish," he concluded sadly.

She knew it was not necessary to contradict. Her role was to listen and she was content with that; also to be next to him and sometimes to steal a look at him where he sat dressed up in cap and goggles and steering his car.

"Often I have wanted to say to him: '.Harry, your Mother wants you at home, you also want to be with her: go.' Sometimes I have said. Once everything was done, his berth booked, his baggage packed. At the last moment I broke down. I could not tolerate this parting. Then it was he who said 'no I shall stay'… Now we have to get out and walk, will it be too hot for you, Olivia?"

He led the way up the rocky path to Baba Firdaus' grove.

He went on talking and she listened to him and so did not much feel the sun beating down.

He said "There are certain people who if they are absent life becomes hard to bear. Once I asked a faqir from Ajmere (a very holy person): 'Why these people? Why they and not others?' He gave me the following reply which I like very much: 'These are the people who once sat close to you in Paradise.' It is a beautiful idea, isn't it, Olivia? That we sat close to each other once in Paradise. "

They had arrived in the grove. He parted the branches for her, they entered. But just as they did so, some men emerged from the shrine. Olivia had a shock. They were rough and armed and for a moment they stared dangerously at the Nawab and Olivia. But next moment, realising who it was, they fell at the Nawab's feet.

He told Olivia to sit under a tree. She watched him talk to the men. He was easy and familiar with them. They stood before him in an attitude of humility and with a look of adoration on their desperado faces. She was quite sure they were desperadoes. She studied them — they looked like mediaeval bandits — but not once did they dare glance in her direction. The Nawab dismissed them quite soon, then called her into the shrine.

"Look what I have brought," he said.

He held two lengths of red string. She tied hers first, then he tied his. Afterwards he asked "What did you wish?"

"Is one supposed to tell?"

"U there is only one person there with you… You know what women come here for? What they wish? Is that what you wished also?"

"Yes," she said. "Ah".

There was a silence; then he said: "It is all superstition. But perhaps it is true. It may be true; there are many stories of miracles that have happened. You have heard the story of the Husband's Wedding Day? Of course it is all quite unscientific, and educated people like you and I — "