The Moneylenders of Shahpur. Helen Forrester

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СКАЧАТЬ Dr Mehta mentioned that you were coming. I hope you’ll like it here.’ He extended his hand to the newcomer.

      Though Tilak’s fingers looked slim and delicate, his grip on John’s hand was firm. ‘Thanks,’ he said.

      ‘Perhaps the ladies would like to rest in my room,’ John suggested. ‘My servant would look after them, while we go to see the Dean.’

      The offer was accepted with alacrity. With Ranjit’s help and with much puffing and blowing, Mrs Tilak and her daughter were installed in John’s room. John left to Ranjit the task of offering refreshments to the ladies. He had no idea of their caste or orthodoxy. If they were very orthodox, they would refuse all refreshment, in spite of the fact that Ranjit was himself a Brahmin.

      Dr Tilak and he walked down the line of flat-roofed houses and bungalows before turning into the path which led to the Arts and Science Building. Tilak looked about him in a brisk, almost military manner which proclaimed his Maratha forebears, in marked contrast to the stolid, slower movements of Gujeratis. He seemed excitable and full of life, and remarked enthusiastically upon the green lawns and little flowerbeds which had been conjured up out of near desert.

      Tilak had the beauty of face and form, thought John, which had made Indians famous for their looks, though he was gaunt and very dark-skinned. Though he did not know who John was, he was respectful to him, and he soon drew from him some details of his writings, in particular, about his new book on the history of the Marwari Gate temple and the surrounding district.

      But Tilak’s expression lost some of its exuberance, as they chatted. Finally, he said, ‘I wonder what these Jains will think of my subject?’

      ‘Why? I expect there is a demand for Zoology courses here. Otherwise, it would not have occurred to the University to appoint you.’

      ‘There’s a demand – probably from Hindus. However, it may not have occurred to anyone that I’ll require small mammals to dissect for the benefit of my students – and fish to dissect for my own research.’ He turned to John, his face very earnest, ‘One can never be sure with Jains.’

      John smiled at the ominous tone in which he pronounced his last sentence. His eyes twinkled, as he replied, ‘The Vice-Chancellor is a graduate of Harvard – I’m sure he’ll understand the requirements of modern research. We have some old diehards here. A few staff fought against the establishment of a Science Faculty. Dean Mehta is, himself, quite orthodox in his personal life – but I’ve never noticed his trying to impose his views on anyone else.’

      Tilak relaxed a little and was about to make some further remark, when his attention was caught by a flutter of pink on the roof of the Dean’s bungalow, which they were approaching.

      John, also, had noticed Anasuyabehn on the roof, her pink sari almost obscured by her long, black hair which she was drying in the sunlight. She was generally a very retiring girl and, presumably, imagined that she could not be seen from below or she would undoubtedly have dried her hair indoors; her Western education had failed to rob her of her modesty or dignity. Now, she stood, in all innocence, shaking out her wonderful tresses, and laughing and chattering with her friend, Savitri, who was seated on the low parapet which guarded the edge of the roof.

      John thought what a contrast the two women made. Anasuyabehn had an inborn winsomeness, and, as she raised her arms to rub her hair, her fine figure was readily apparent; yet her laughing face and cheerful voice had all the ingenuousness of the carefully protected woman. She was no beauty; but he knew that when she felt at ease with people, she could be quite charming.

      Savitri – well, Savitri was Savitri. Thin as a camel after a desert journey, hair cut short and permanently waved last time she had been in Bombay, large, horn-rimmed spectacles; an assertive woman, whose violent efforts to be modern sometimes had results which left her acquaintances gasping. Yet she and Anasuyabehn were old friends, products of the same school and the same college – but different parents, thought John. Though Savitri’s parents were Hindus, their home was almost completely European, while in Dean Mehta’s house, despite his study of English, many of the old Jain ways still lingered.

      As he and Tilak came level with the bungalow, Anasuyabehn approached the parapet, and, parting her waterfall of hair with her hands, she looked out across the compound straight at Tilak.

      Tilak stopped in his tracks, fascinated by the gentle, fair face, made stronger looking by sweeping black brows, and by the marvellous hair rippling down past the girl’s knees. In that unguarded moment she did, indeed, look very different from her usual modest self. Behind her, the leaves of an overhanging tree rustled and cast a dappled shade over her, guarding her from the searching rays of the sun.

      She stood for a moment, as if captivated, and then, suddenly realizing her dishevelled state and the impropriety of staring at a man, she whipped away across the roof to the staircase.

      Tilak continued to stare at the spot where she had stood, as if the shabby, white parapet had mesmerized him.

      ‘Heavens,’ he breathed in English, and then blinked and turned his face away, as he realized that he was being insolently scrutinized by Savitri, who was still seated on the low wall.

      Embarrassed by this merciless examination, he turned to John and said in his stilted English, ‘What were you saying about the Vice-Chancellor and the Dean?’

      John was also acquainted with Savitri. He gravely lifted his stick in salute to her. She smiled acknowledgment and he turned his attention again to Tilak.

      Though Tilak had reopened the conversation, it was obvious that he was not really listening to John’s reply. His face was rapt as they walked along, the eyelids narrowed, the lips parted, and John felt uncomfortably that this lean, attractive newcomer was probably far too emotional to slip quietly into the life of the University. An intense man, thought John, with a difficult subject to teach, in a district where the life of every crawling bug is sacred.

      In the middle of a story being told to him by John of how local villagers refused to spray a locust invasion, because of their beliefs, Tilak asked suddenly, ‘Whose was the bungalow where the two girls were up on the roof?’

      As they climbed the steps of the Arts and Science Building, he looked up at John, impatient for his answer.

      A quizzical gleam in his eye, John glanced back at Tilak. ‘It was Dean Mehta’s bungalow. Why?’

      Tilak flushed at the query and did not reply at once. Then, with a burst of inspiration, he said, ‘It is helpful to know exactly where various members of the University staff live, and so on.’

      In the hall, he saw the name of the Dean on a door facing him, and he promptly changed the subject, a slight grimness in his voice. ‘Well, here I go. Now we shall see what effect Zoology creates in a Jain world!’

      

      But Dr Tilak was received with quiet courtesy by Dean Mehta and his fears were allayed. The Head Peon was instructed to help him remove his mother and sister and luggage from John’s room and he left to do this, while John arranged with the Dean to visit the Marwari Gate temple with him the following morning.

       CHAPTER THREE

      The Marwari Gate temple had been built by an emperor as a sacrifice for the sins of his teeth. John had visited it on a number of occasions, but this time he wanted to СКАЧАТЬ