‘Wouldn’t it be better,’ interrupted Professor Mishra, wiping an eyelash away from the corner of his eye, ‘wouldn’t it be better if we were to concentrate on Joyce for the moment? We will take up Lawrence at our session next month – before we adjourn for the summer vacation.’
‘The two matters are interlinked, surely,’ said Pran, looking around the table for support. Dr Narayanan was about to say something when Professor Mishra pointed out :
‘But not on this agenda, Dr Kapoor, not on this agenda.’ He smiled at Pran sweetly, and his eyes twinkled. He then placed his huge white hands, palms down, on the table and said, ‘But what were you saying when I so rudely interrupted?’
Pran looked at the large white hands emanating from the grand pulp of Professor Mishra’s round body, and thought, I may look thin and fit, but I am not, and this man, for all his slug-like pallor and bulk, has a great deal of stamina. If I am to get agreement on this measure I must remain calm and collected.
He smiled around the table, and said: ‘Joyce is a great writer. This is now universally acknowledged. He is, for instance, the subject of increasing academic study in America. I do think he should be on our syllabus too.’
‘Dr Kapoor,’ the high voice responded, ‘each point in the universe must make up its own mind on the question of acknowledgement before acknowledgement can be considered to be universal. We in India pride ourselves on our Independence - an Independence won at great expense by the best men of several generations, a fact I need not emphasize to the illustrious son of an even more illustrious father. We should hesitate before we blindly allow the American dissertation mill to order our priorities. What do you say, Dr Narayanan?’
Dr Narayanan, who was a Romantic Revivalist, seemed to look deep into his soul for a few seconds. ‘That is a good point,’ he said judiciously, shaking his head sideways for emphasis.
‘If we do not keep pace with our companions,’ continued Professor Mishra, ‘perhaps it is because we hear a different drummer. Let us step to the music that we hear, we in India. To quote an American,’ he added.
Pran looked down at the table and said quietly: ‘I say Joyce is a great writer because I believe he is a great writer, not because of what the Americans say.’ He remembered his first introduction to Joyce: a friend had lent him Ulysses a month before his Ph.D. oral examination at Allahabad University and he had, as a result, ignored his own subject to the point where he had jeopardized his academic career.
Dr Narayanan looked at him and came out suddenly in unexpected support. ‘“The Dead”,’ said Dr Narayanan. ‘A fine story. I read it twice.’
Pran looked at him gratefully.
Professor Mishra looked at Dr Narayanan’s small, bald head almost approvingly. ‘Very good, very good,’ he said, as if applauding a small child. ‘But’ – and his voice assumed a cutting edge – ‘there is more to Joyce than “The Dead”. There is the unreadable Ulysses. There is the worse than unreadable Finnegans Wake. This kind of writing is unhealthy for our students. It encourages them, as it were, in sloppy and ungrammatical writing. And what about the ending of Ulysses? There are young and impressionable women whom in our courses it is our responsibility to introduce to the higher things of life, Dr Kapoor – your charming sister-in-law for example. Would you put a book like Ulysses into her hands?’ Professor Mishra smiled benignly.
‘Yes,’ said Pran simply.
Dr Narayanan looked interested. Dr Gupta, who was mainly interested in Anglo-Saxon and Middle English, looked at his nails.
‘It is heartening to come across a young man – a young lecturer’ – Professor Mishra looked over at the rank-conscious reader, Dr Gupta – ‘who is so, shall I say, so, well, direct in his opinions and so willing to share them with his colleagues, however senior they may be. It is heartening. We may disagree of course; but India is a democracy and we can speak our minds…’ He stopped for a few seconds, and stared out of the window at the dusty laburnum. ‘A democracy. Yes. But even democracies are faced with hard choices. There can be only one head of department, for example. And when a post falls open, of all the deserving candidates only one can be selected. We are already hardpressed to teach twenty-one writers in the time we allot to this paper. If Joyce goes in, what comes out?’
‘Flecker,’ said Pran without a moment’s hesitation.
Professor Mishra laughed indulgently. ‘Ah, Dr Kapoor, Dr Kapoor…’ he intoned,
‘Pass not beneath, O Caravan, or pass not singing. Have you heard