V. Naipaul: The Mystic Masseur

4. In February I visited Sweet Pastures Estate where I was met by approximately 425 children. They were all destitute. I fed them and gave 135 of the very poorest toys.

5. In March, at my residence in Fuente Grove, I treated more than 42 children of the very poorest. I think it advisable to state that while I was able to feed them all I was able to give clothes only to 12 of the very poorest.

6. In presenting this incomplete report for the inspection of the Trinidadian public, I wish to make it publicly known that I owe very much to the very many private individual Trinida-dians who willingly and cheerfully donated money to bring comfort and solace to children of the very poorest without distinction of race, caste, colour, or creed.

The Dharma went to press.

The boy handled the layout of the paper with relish. He had a banner headline on page one and another on page three. At the top of page three he had, in twenty-four point italic:

Today the aeroplane is a common or garden sight and it is commonly believed that progress in this field has only been made in the past forty years. But diligent research is proving otherwise and in this learned dispatch Dr C. V. R. Swami shows that 2,000 years ago there was –

And in huge black letters:

FLYING IN ANCIENT INDIA

He knew all about cross-headings and used them every paragraph. He put the last paragraph of every article in italic, with the last line in black letter.

Basdeo, the printer, told Ganesh afterwards, ‘Sahib, if you ever send that boy again to have anything print, I think I go wring his neck.’

‘IF I NEEDED any further proof of the hand of Providence in my career,’ Ganesh wrote in The Years of Guilt, ‘I had only to look at the incidents which led to the decline of Shri Narayan.’

In Trinidad it isn’t polite to look down on a man because you know he handles public funds unwisely. As soon as he is exposed the poor man becomes ridiculous enough, a subject for calypso. After The Dharma came out Narayan didn’t have a chance.

‘Now is your chance to finish him off, pundit,’ Beharry said. ‘Give him two three months to recover and — bam! — people stop laughing and begin to listen to him again.’

But no one could think of a plan.

Leela said, ‘I would do like my father and give him a good horse-whipping.’

Beharry suggested more lectures.

The boy said, ‘Kidnap the son of a bitch, pundit.’

Swami and Partap thought a lot but came up with nothing.

It was the Hindu wedding season and The Great Belcher was very busy.

Suruj Mooma was still thinking when Fate, unfortunately for Narayan, took a hand.

Two days after the publication of Volume One, Number One of The Dharma it was announced in the Trinidad Sentinel that a Hindu industrialist in India had offered thirty thousand dollars for the cultural uplift of Trinidad Hindus. The money was being kept in trust by the Trinidad Government until it could be handed over to a competent Hindu body.

Narayan promptly claimed that the Hindu Association, of which he had the honour to be President, was competent enough to handle the thirty thousand dollars.

Leela said, ‘They could handle a lot more, if you let them.’

‘Is God Self send this chance, pundit,’ Beharry urged. ‘But you have to act fast. Narayan Association having their second General Meeting in four weeks. You couldn’t do something there?’

‘I thinking about it all all the time,’ Ganesh said and for a moment Beharry recognized the old, pre-mystic Ganesh.

Four days later the San Fernando correspondent of the Sentinel reported that Pundit Ganesh Ramsumair of Fuente Grove was planning the formation of a representative assembly of Trinidad Hindus to be known as the Hindu League.

That day, in an interview, Narayan claimed that the Hindu Association was the only representative Hindu body in Trinidad. It had a fine record of social work, it was founded long before the League was even thought of, and it was clear to all right-thinking people that the League was being formed only with thirty thousand dollars in view.

Letters flew from both sides to the Sentinel .

Finally, it was announced that the Inaugural Meeting of the Hindu League was to be held at the residence of Pundit Ganesh Ramsumair in Fuente Grove. The meeting was to be private.

That Saturday afternoon about fifty men, most of them former clients, gathered in the ground floor of Ganesh’s house. There were solicitors and barristers among them, solicitor’s touts, taxidrivers, clerks and labourers. Leela, taking no chances, gave them diluted Coca-Cola in enamel cups.

Ganesh sat on orange cushions on a low platform below a carving of Hanuman, the monkey god. He recited a long Hindi prayer, then used a mango-leaf to sprinkle water from a brass jar over the meeting.

Partap, sitting cross-legged on a charpoy next to the boy, said in Hindi, ‘Ganges water.’

The boy said, ‘Go to France!’

Ganesh made them all swear a terrible oath of secrecy.

Then he stood up and tossed his green scarf over his shoulder. ‘What I want to say today is very simple. We want to use the money given us well, and at the same time we want to stop Narayan making more trouble. He says he is competent to handle the money. We know that.’

There was laughter. Ganesh took a sip of Coca-Cola from a prutty prutty glass. ‘To get the money, we mustn’t only remove Narayan, we must form one united Hindu body.’

There were cries of approval.

‘The Hindu Association isn’t a very large body. There are more of us here than in the Hindu Association. The Association wants to get new members and I have called you here today to beg you to form your own branches of the Hindu Association.’

Murmurings.

The boy said, ‘But I thought we was going to form the Hindu League today.’

Ganesh raised his hand. ‘I am doing this only for the sake of Hindu unity in Trinidad.’

Some people cried in Hindi, ‘Long live Ganesh!’

‘But what about the League?’ the boy said.

‘We are not going to form the League. In less than three weeks the Hindu Association is going to hold its second General Meeting. Many officers will be elected and I hope to see all of you among them.’

The meeting clapped.

Swami stood up with difficulty. ‘Mr President Ganesh, sir, may I ask how you is going to see that happen?’

The meeting clapped again and Swami sat down.

‘This is the problem: how can we win the elections at the General Meeting of the Association? The solution: by having more delegates than anybody else. How do we get delegates? By forming more branches. I expect the fifty of you here to form fifty branches. Every branch will send three delegates to the Meeting.’

Swami rose again. ‘Mr President Ganesh, sir, may I ask how you is going to give each and every one of we here three delegates, sahib?’

‘It have — there are hundreds of people who are willing to do me a favour.’

The boy got up amid applause for Swami and Ganesh. ‘All right, it sound all right. But what make you feel that Narayan not going to do the same thing as we?’

Murmurs of, ‘The boy little but he smart, man,’ and, ‘Who son he is?’

Swami got up almost as soon as he had sat down. There was more applause for him. He smiled, fingered the letter in his shirt pocket, and held up his hand for the ovation to cease. ‘Mr President Ganesh, sahib, with your permission, sahib, I is going to answer the boy question. After all, he is my own nephew, my own sister son.’

Thunderous applause. Cries of, ‘Shh! Shh! Let we hear what the man saying, man.’