A Suitable Boy(494)
13.36
THE Chatterji parliament convened as usual at breakfast; apart from Tapan, who was back in boarding-school, everyone was there; Aparna was attended by her ayah; and even old Mr Chatterji had joined them, as he sometimes did after walking his cat.
‘Where’s Cuddles?’ asked Kakoli, looking around.
‘Upstairs, in my room,’ said Dipankar. ‘Because of Pillow.’
‘Piddles and Cullow - like the Whalephant,’ said Kakoli, referring to her favourite Bengali book, Abol Tabol.
‘What’s that about Pillow?’ asked old Mr Chatterji.
‘Nothing,’ said Mrs Chatterji. ‘Dipankar was only saying that Cuddles is afraid of him.’
‘Oh, yes?’ said the old man, nodding. ‘Pillow can hold his own against any dog.’
‘Doesn’t Cuddles have to go to the vet today?’ asked Kakoli.
‘Yes,’ said Dipankar. ‘So I’ll need the car.’
Kakoli made a long face. ‘But I need it too,” she said. ‘Hans’s car is out of order.’
‘Kuku, you always need the car,’ said Dipankar. ‘If you’re willing to take Cuddles to the vet yourself, you can have it.’
‘I can’t do that, it’s terribly boring, and he snaps at whoever’s holding him.’
‘Well, then, take a taxi to meet Hans,’ said Amit, who always found this breakfast tussle over the car immensely irritating, and the worst way to begin the day. ‘Do stop bickering about it. Pass me the marmalade, please, Kuku.’
‘I’m afraid neither of you can have it,’ said Mrs Chatterji. ‘I am taking Meenakshi to see Dr Evans. She needs a check-up.’
‘I don’t really, Mago,’ said Meenakshi. ‘Stop fussing.’
‘You’ve had a very unpleasant shock, darling, and I’m taking no chances,’ said her mother.
‘Yes, Meenakshi, no harm in having a check-up,’ said her father, lowering the Statesman.
‘Yes,’ agreed Aparna, spooning her quarter-boiled egg into her mouth with a great deal of energy. ‘No harm.’
‘Eat your food, darling,’ said Meenakshi to Aparna, a little annoyed.
‘The marmalade, Kuku, not the gooseberry jam,’ said Amit in a brittle voice. ‘Not the gazpacho, not the anchovies, not the sandesh, not the soufflé; the marmalade.’
‘What’s got into you?’ said Kakoli. ‘You’ve been very short-tempered of late. Worse than Cuddles. It must be sexual frustration.’
‘Something that you wouldn’t know about,’ said Amit.
‘Kuku! Amit!’ said Mrs Chatterji.
‘But it’s true,’ said Kakoli. ‘And he’s taken to chewing ice-cubes, which I’ve read somewhere is an infallible sign of it.’
‘Kuku, I will not have you talking this way at breakfast – with A sitting here.’
Aparna sat up with interest, setting her egg-coated spoon down on the embroidered tablecloth.
‘Mago, A doesn’t understand the first word we’re saying,’ said Kakoli.
‘Anyway, I’m not,’ said Amit.
‘I think you must be dreaming about her.’
‘Who?’ said Mrs Chatterji.
‘The heroine of your first book. The White Lady of your sonnets,’ said Kakoli, looking at Amit.
‘You should talk!’ said Amit.
‘Foreign woman is so shameless.
Indian also is not blameless,’
murmured Kakoli.
She had tried to eschew couplets, but this one had simply presented itself and rolled off her tongue.
Amit said: ‘Marmalade, please, Kuku, my toast is getting cold.’
‘Foreign woman is a vulture.
Goes against our ancient culture –’
blurted Kuku blindly. ‘It’s a good thing you made poetry out of that affair rather than little Chatterjis. Marry someone nice and Indian, Dada; don’t follow my example. Have you sent Luts that book yet? She told me you’d promised her one.’
‘Less wit. More marmalade,’ requested Amit.
Kuku passed it to him at last and he spread it on his toast very carefully, covering every corner. ‘She told you that, did she?’ asked Amit.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Kakoli. ‘Meenakshi will vouch for me.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Meenakshi, looking intently at her tea. ‘Everything Kakoli says is true. And we’re concerned about you. You’re almost thirty now –’
‘Don’t remind me,’ said Amit with dramatic melancholy. ‘just pass me the sugar before I’m thirty-one. What else did she say?’
Rather than invent something entirely implausible and thus risk undoing the effect of her previous statement, Meenakshi wisely refrained.