Varun looked gloomily at the Pay Scales, the lists of Optional and Compulsory Papers, the Standard and Syllabus of the Examinations, even the List of Scheduled Castes.
‘Yes. If you think that’s best,’ he said at last.
When Lata came back with the tea, she found him plunged into renewed despair. He had just read the paragraph on the Viva Voce:
The candidate will be interviewed by a Board who will have before them a record of his/her career. He/she will be asked questions on matters of general interest. The object of the interview is to assess his/her suitability for the Service for which he/she is entered, and in framing their assessment the Board will attach particular importance to his/her intelligence and alertness, his/her vigour and strength of character and his/ her potential qualities of leadership.
‘Read this!’ said Varun. ‘Just read this.’ Lata picked up the Gazette and began to read it with interest.
‘I don’t have a chance,’ continued Varun. ‘I have such a poor personality. I don’t make a good impression on anyone. I don’t make an impression at all. And the interview counts for 400 marks. No. I may as well accept it. I’m not fit for the civil service. They want people with qualities of leadership – not fifth-class bloody fools like me.’
‘Here, have some tea, Varun Bhai,’ said Lata. Varun accepted with tears in his eyes. ‘But what else can I do?’ he asked her. ‘I can’t teach, I can’t join a managing agency, all the Indian business firms are family-run, I don’t have the guts to set up in business on my own – or to get the money to do so. And Arun shouts at me all the time. I’ve been reading How to Win Friends and Influence People,’ he confided. ‘To improve my personality.’
‘Is it working?’ asked Lata.
‘I don’t know,’ said Varun. ‘I can’t even judge that.’
‘Varun Bhai, why didn’t you listen to what I told you that day at the zoo?’ asked Lata.
‘I did. I’m going out with my friends now. And see where that has led me!’ said Varun.
There was a pause. They sipped tea silently together in the little room. Then Lata, who had been scanning the Gazette, sat up with sudden indignation. ‘Listen to this,’ she said. “For the Indian Administrative Service and the Indian Police Service the Government of India may not select a woman candidate who is married and might require a woman to resign from the service in the event of her marrying subsequently.” ’
‘Oh,’ said Varun, who was not sure what was wrong with that. Jason was, or had been, a policeman, and Varun wondered whether any woman, married or not, should be permitted to do his kind of brutal work.
‘And it gets worse,’ continued Lata. “For the Indian Foreign Service a woman candidate is eligible only if she is unmarried or a widow without encumbrances. If such a candidate is selected, she will be appointed on the express condition that she might be called upon to resign the service on marriage or re-marriage.” ’
‘Without encumbrances?’ said Varun.
‘That means children, I suppose. Presumably you can be a widower with encumbrances and handle both your family life and your work. But not if you’re a widow… I’m sorry, I’ve taken over the Gazette.’
‘Oh, no, no, you read it. I’ve suddenly remembered I must go out. I promised.’
‘Promised whom?’ said Lata. ‘Sajid and Jason?’
‘No, not exactly,’ said Varun shiftily. ‘Anyway, a promise is a promise and never should be broken.’ He laughed weakly; he was quoting one of his mother’s adages. ‘But I’ll tell them that I can’t see them any more. I’m too busy studying. Will you talk to Ma for a little while?’
‘While you slip out?’ said Lata. ‘No fears.’
‘Please, Luts, what can I say to her? She’s bound to ask me where I’m going.’
‘Tell her you’re going to get disgustingly drunk on Shamshu.’
‘It won’t be Shamshu today,’ said Varun, cheering up.
After he had left, Lata went to her room with the Gazette. Kabir had said that he wanted to sit for the IFS exams after he had got his degree. She had no doubt that if he got to that stage, he would do well in the interview. He certainly had leadership qualities and vigour. She could imagine what a good impression he would make on the Board. She could picture his alertness, his open smile, the ready way in which he would admit to not knowing something.
She looked through the rules, wondering which optional subjects he might select. One was described simply as: ‘World History. 1789 to 1939.’