‘Well,’ said Amit, ‘Jheel bred you.’
‘I’m talking about a general tendency, Amit Da, not about invariable effects. But it’s up to us to do something. I mean the two of us. Ma will have hysterics if she hears about all this. And Tapan won’t be able to face Baba if he thinks he’s heard. As for Kuku, she sometimes has good ideas, but it would be idiocy to trust her to be discreet. And Meenakshi’s out, obviously: the Mehras would know in a minute, and what Arun’s mother knows today the world knows tomorrow. It was difficult enough to get Tapan to speak to me. And I promised him I’d tell only you.’
‘And he didn’t mind?’
Dipankar hesitated for a fraction of a second. ‘No,’ he said.
Amit uncapped his pen again, and drew a small circle on the poem he had been writing. ‘Won’t it be difficult for him to get admission somewhere else at this stage?’ he asked, investing the circle with eyes and two large ears.
‘Not if you talk to someone at St Xavier’s,’ replied Dipankar. ‘It’s your old school, and they’re always telling you how proud they are of you.’
‘True,’ said Amit thoughtfully. ‘And I did give a talk and a reading there earlier this year, which I very rarely do. So I suppose I could – but what reason could I give? Not his general health; you said he could swim across that lake and back. His headaches? Well, if they’re brought on by travel, perhaps. Anyway, whatever I think of, getting him provisionally into another school would certainly counter one possible objection by Ma. A sort of fait accompli.’
‘Well,’ said Dipankar quietly, ‘as Baba says, no fait is ever accompli until it’s accompli.’
Amit thought of Tapan’s misery and his own poem went out of his mind. ‘I’ll go over after lunch,’ he said. ‘Has the car been kuku’d?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘And how will we convince Ma?’ continued Amit, looking worried, almost grim.
‘That’s the problem,’ said Dipankar. His decision to join a bank had made him quite decisive all around for an hour or so, but the effect was wearing off. ‘What can he do here in Calcutta that he can’t do at a boarding-school like Jheel? I suppose he couldn’t develop a sudden interest in astronomy, could he, and be unable to live without a roof telescope. The thirst for knowledge, and so on. Then he’d have to live at home and attend a day school.’
Amit smiled. ‘I can’t see it going down too well with Ma: one poet, one seer, and one astronomer. Sorry, banker-cum-seer.’
‘Headaches?’
‘Headaches?’ asked Amit. ‘Oh, I see, his migraines. Yes, well, that’ll help, but – let’s try thinking not of Tapan, but of Ma…’
After a few minutes, Dipankar suggested: ‘How about Bengali culture?’
‘Bengali culture?’
‘Yes, you know, the Jheel School song book has one paltry song by Tagore, and no provision for teaching Bengali, and –’
‘Dipankar, you’re a genius.’
‘Yes,’ Dipankar agreed.
‘That’s just right. “Tapan is losing his Bengali soul in the swamp of the Great Indian Sensibility.” She was complaining about his Bengali just the other day. Certainly it’s worth a try. But you know, I’m not sure about letting matters rest here. If this is the state of affairs at Jheel, we ought to complain to the headmaster, and if necessary kick up a wider fuss.’
Dipankar shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that if Baba gets involved, that is exactly what is going to happen. And I’m more concerned with Tapan at the moment than with undoing the general brutalities of Jheel. But Amit Da, do talk to Tapan. And spend a bit of time with him. He admires you.’
Amit accepted the implicit rebuke from his younger brother. ‘Well, I’m impressed with us,’ he said after a few moments of silence. ‘We’d make a very practical team. Movers and Fixers. Wide experience of Law and Economics. Solutions while you wait: Intrepid, Immediate and Irrevocable –’
Dipankar cut him off. ‘I’ll talk to Ma at tea-time, then, Dada. Tapan has had to put up with this for months, he shouldn’t have to put up with it for another day. If you and I – and, I hope, Ma – present a united front, and Tapan is so obviously unhappy at jheel, Baba will give in. Besides, he won’t mind having Tapan in Calcutta; he misses him when he’s away. He’s the only one of his children who isn’t a Problem – except for his report card.’
Amit nodded. ‘Well, wait for him to reach the age of responsibility before he displays his own variant of irresponsibility. If he’s a Chatterji, he will.’