Chapter 28

He opened the packet of sweets in his hand and con-. templated first the yellow colour of the boondi, the chocolate of the rasgullas and the white of the cream cakes. Isis mouth watered. They were delicious. But there was an empty space in his belly. He ate mouthfuls, ruining the taste of the food. He could not swallow it fast enough. When only one cream cake lay in the leaf bag in his hand he felt thirsty, and looked aside to see if there was a pump where he could go to drink water. Hardly had his gaze been diverted, when the crow which sat on Queen Victoria's head, swooped down and carried the bag out of the boy's unconscious hands and threw it on the pavement. Munoo came back to himself with a half amused, half chagrined smile, and cursed: 'Son of a thief!' Just then a swarm of crows came soaring over his head and, cawing brazenly, fell on the sweats which had dropped out of the bag on to the pavement, and fluttered back to out of the bag on to the pavement, and fluttered back to their eminent shelter on Qucen Victoria's head, in her arms and around her large proportions. Munoo got up confused and, straining not to attract anyone's notice, thought to himself: 'The son of a thief must have known that I wouldn't pick up food from the pave- ment, where the shoes have been, and so he waited till I wasn't looking. The cunning bastard!' 190 He walked down the pavement which was punctuated almost at every step by some person or another. There was here an old astrologer with the intricate caste marks of priesthood painted on his forehead, a white flowing beard and a fat body immaculately clothed in long muslin robes, telling the fortune of a Gujerati clerk; there was next a Muhammadan barber with his razors and cuticles spread before him, looking into a large dressing table mirror as he puffed at his hubble-bubble while waiting for customers; there was further a bookseller, displaying books and maga- zines, with the coloured pictures of beautiful European women on them and some pamphlets which proclaimed the secrets and mysteries of sex in bold Hindustani letters; there was a fruit seller further ahead, and a sweetmeat seller and, at the edge of a footpath in a corner, a coolie lay huddled, 'pillowing his head on his arm, shrinking into himself as if he were afraid to occupy too much space. Munoo's heart sank at the recognition of a labourer lying about thus precariously. So even here the coolies sleep in the streets!' he suddenly realised, and the memory of the words of the coolie who had said that money was strewn about the streets of Bombay sounded falsely hollow in his brain. His throat was parched and dry with thirst. His limbs sagged. Before his mind's eye arose the grim fear of the night coming and finding him alone and friendless in the streets. He tried to forget the oppressive thought. His brain became a blank and the picture faded out. He had come to the edge of four roads, alongside which stretched avenues of tall, massive, stately edifices, eight stories high, just like those in the bazaar of the civil lines at Daulatpur, except that they seemed to continue for miles and miles. He stood riveted to the spot for a moment, not knowing where to go and not daring to cross into the boulevards of civilisation. Then he saw men walking up and down the pavements of the roads casually, among them even a few coolics with tunics much dirtier than his own. And he walked on. 191 He braved it and ran hurriedly past the raised arms of a black policeman, who wore a blue and yellow uniform, different from the upcountry constables, bare-legged, his cap tilted nattily to one side. His heart beat wildly as he slowed down by the polished brass plates round the door lintels at the gates of a big building, on which were engraved black letters of the English alphabet. 'Cox & Co., he read on one of them, and he felt pleased with the strange con-nection they seemed to establish between him and the world of Sahib logs. He recalled, however, the rude way in which the Englishwoman in Daulatpur civil lines had spoken to him and he was again half afraid to go on. But there were plenty of Indians walking down the streets and only a few pink-faced men. So he went on. Only he felt more thirsty than ever now and, as he walked, he scanned the length of the bazaar to see if there was a charity water stall here like those in Daulatpur. The huge glass windows of furniture shops followed upon the long portals of an office, or tie mysterious flight of steps of a Bank, but there was no well or pump where he could get water. At length he sighted a huge canvas lining, behind glass doors, a row of coloured soda water bottles and, beyond the window, some people who sat on angrezi chairs by marble tables, eating and drinking and chatting. He had once drunk soda water while on an errand in the streets of Daulatpur at the shop of Bali, the ice seller. He felt he would like to drink a bottle now. But the clothes of the people who sat in the shop, as he saw from the wide open door, were clean. They looked to be rich Babus or mer- chants and he felt he was only a dirty coolie. But a bottle of soda water only costs an anna and I have a rupee tied up in the end of my loin cloth. I can go and buy one,' he told himself. He almost stumbled on the doorstep, as, with heavy feet and light heart, he walked in and stood blind and un- certain in the commodious restaurant. He tried to steady nhimself and felt everyone was looking at him. He sat down on a chair by an empty table that stood on his right. He 102 felt he was floating in the air, so rapidly did 94350 wheel round and round with confusion and embarrassment. He brushed his arm across his forehead to calm himself and to wipe off the sweat. He brazened himself into self assurance and glanced at people pouring hot tea from their eps into saucers and sipping it with spattering sips. Hardly had he withdrawn his gaze from the queer people when a tail man in muslin, with his hair profusely oiled and parted in the middle, came up to him and said: 'Coolic?" 'Yes,' Munoo confessed, his heart almost missing a beat. "Sit down on the floor, there; what do you want?" the man said insolently. Munoo got up from the chair lamely and settled down on the cemented floor full of fear and without saying a word. 'What do you want?" the man asked again. 'A bottle of soda water,' Munoo said. Some of the men who were spattering at tea in their saucers looked at him as if he were a leper, and the waiter winked at them a significant glance, half in mockery at the coolie who indulged in soda water and half in contempt. Munoo felt wild with rage, but tried to still his mind by acknowledging the superiority of the clean clothed rich people, whom he had always been told to respect. Feeling that all the men in the place were staring at him, he looked away into the street through the glass window. 'Give me the money, two annas, the man shouted, coming almost on top of Munoo's head suddenly. Munoo started. Then with bent head, and conscious of the stares of everyone, he loosened the knot in his loin cloth and handed over the silver rupee to the waiter. The man fetched a glass of green-coloured, frothing soda water from a high stand and gave it to Munoo. Then he counted high stand and gave it to Munoo. Then he counted fourteen annas change on to Munoo's palm. The sharp, cool, sweetish taste of the soda water tingled in Munoo's mouth and brought tears of acid into his eyes. He would have liked to have sipped it slowly and enjoyed the full flavour of the drink in comfort. But he was nervous and feeling extremely guilty for having intruded into the 193 rich man's world. So he gulped the water down as fast as he could. And, placing the glass in a corner, he made to go. The aerated liquid had an instantaneous effect on his belly and he belched in spite of himself. 'Go away,' the man shouted behind him. Munoo darted as if to save his life. When he had reached a hundred yards or so, he looked back. The man was not following him. But he was terro stricken. Looking furtively this side and that, fore and aft, he slunk away, cursing himself for having gone into a shop like that. He felt he had wasted his money. The man's nastiness had left such a bitter taste in his mouth. 'I was so thirsty, though,' he said to console himself, 'and now I am no more thirsty. He helched again, and this spon- taneous confirmation of his thought by his belly made him laugh.