A Suitable Boy(578)

‘He is taking everything very well,’ said Kuku. ‘He will always have a special place in my heart,’ she added defiantly.

Hans was looking even more grave.

‘Oh, you needn’t worry about that, Hans,’ Amit said. ‘That doesn’t mean much. Kuku’s heart is full of specially reserved places.’

‘It is not,’ said Kuku. ‘And you have no right to talk.’

‘Me?’ said Amit.

‘Yes, you. You are completely heartless; Hans takes all this flippant talk about affection very badly. He has a very pure soul.’

Meenakshi, who had had a bit too much to drink, murmured:

‘Gentlemen that I allure,

They are always thinking pure.’



Hans blushed.

‘Nonsense, Kuku,’ said Amit. ‘Hans is a strong man and can take anything. You can tell from his handshake.’

Hans flinched.

Mrs Chatterji found it necessary to intervene. ‘Hans, you mustn’t take what Amit says seriously.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Amit. ‘Only what I write.’

‘He gets into these moods when his writing is going badly. Have you had any news from your sister?’

‘No, but I am expecting to hear from her any day,’ said Hans.

‘Do you think we are a typical family, Hans?’ said Meenakshi.

Hans considered, then answered diplomatically: ‘I would say you are an atypically typical family.’

‘Not typically atypical?’ suggested Amit.

‘He’s not always like this,’ said Kuku to Lata.

‘Isn’t he?’ asked Lata.

Oh no – he’s much less –’

‘Less what?’ demanded Amit.

‘Less selfish!’ said Kuku, annoyed. She had been trying to defend him before Lata. But Amit seemed to be in one of those moods where he cared about no one’s feelings.

‘If I tried to be more unselfish,’ said Amit, ‘I would lose all those qualities that make me a net joy-giver.’

Mrs Rupa Mehra looked at Amit, rather astounded.

Amit explained: ‘I meant, Ma, that I would become completely sisterpecked and docile, and then my writing would suffer, and since my writing gives pleasure to many more people than I actually meet, there would be a net loss to the universe.’

This struck Mrs Rupa Mehra as astonishingly arrogant. ‘Can you use that as a reason to behave badly to those around you?’ she asked.

‘Oh, yes, I think so,’ said Amit, carried away by the force of his argument. ‘Certainly, I demand meals at odd hours, and I never answer letters in time. Sometimes, when I’m in the middle of a patch of inspiration, I don’t answer them for months.’

To Mrs Rupa Mehra this was sheer villainy. Not to answer letters was unforgivable. If this attitude spread, it would be the end of civilized life as she knew it. She glanced at Lata, who appeared to be enjoying the conversation, though not contributing to it at all.

‘I’m sure none of my children would ever do that,’ said Mrs Rupa Mehra. ‘Even when I am away, my Varun writes to me every week.’ She looked pensive. ‘

‘I’m sure they wouldn’t, Ma,’ said Kuku. ‘It’s just that we’ve pampered Amit so much that he thinks he can do anything and get away with it.’

‘Quite right,’ said Amit’s father from the other end of the table. ‘Savita’s just been telling me how fascinating she finds the law and how much she looks forward to practising it. Why have a qualification if you make no use of it?’

Amit fell silent.

‘Now Dipankar has settled down at last,’ Mr Justice Chatterji added with approval. ‘A bank is just the place for him.’

‘A river-bank,’ Kuku could not refrain from saying. ‘With an Ideal to ply him with Scotch and type his ruminations for him.’

‘Very amusing,’ said Mr Justice Chatterji. He was pleased with Dipankar these days.

‘And you, Tapan, you’re going to become a doctor, are you?’ said Amit with cynical affection.

‘I don’t think so, Dada,’ said Tapan, who looked quite happy.

‘Do you think I’ve made the right decision, Dada?’ asked Dipankar uncertainly. He had made up his mind suddenly, having been struck by the insight that one had to be of the world before one could get away from it; but he was beginning to have second thoughts.

‘Well –’ said Amit, thinking of the fate of his novel.

‘Well? Do you approve?’ said Dipankar, looking with great concentration at the beautiful shell-shaped dish that had contained his baked vegetables.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Amit. ‘But I’m not going to tell you I do.’

‘Oh.’