Chapter 52

Munoo found that as the Memsahib's servant he had to fit into a new state of existence. His exact duties were not defined. He was just to remain at his mistress' beck and call, to do anything and everything that her ladyship desired at a particular moment. But, in spite of the mis- cellaneousness of his duties, his life at Bhujji House resolved itself into a kind of pattern. He was awakened early at'dawn by Ala Dad, the Khan- samah, from the corner of the small dark room in the ser- vants' quarter, twenty yards below the bungalow, which 312 served as the kitchen for the household and as a bedroom and living-room for the two of them. He had to light a fire in the primitive kitchen range and to put the kettle on to boil for the Memsahib's tea. Ala Dad himself sat nursing his white beard and smoking the hubble-bubble before going to the lavatory. "Munoo hurriedly made tea, showed the tray to Ala Dad to see if he had put everything in order, and bore it up to the Memsahib's bedroom. Little Circe was already up, running round in her pyjamas, clamouring for breakfast. Mrs! Mainwaring, who had gone to bed at two or three o'clock in the morning, cursed at her daughter for disturb- ing ker sleep, and bullied her to clean her tech and wash her face if she wanted her chota hazri. As the child was self-willed, obstinate and disobedient and wanted to be noticed all the time, Mrs. Mainwaring smacked her and sent her down to the servants' quarter for some time. She her- self put on a dirty black skirt over her pyjamas and a red polo jumper over her night coat, and with Michael Arlen's Green Hat in her hand, sipped her cup of tea. Munoo began to sweep the sitting-room and the verandah, happy in the contemplation of the green, rain-soaked verd- ure of Annandale at his feet, and intoxicated by the deep, rich smell of the pine cones and resin. Mrs. Mainwaring saw him, self-contained an' brushing the carpets, dusting the furniture, s floor, and she wondered what he was thinking, 314/350 he thought at all. She would have loved to have asked him to come and talk to her. But he was a mere servant. F could she think of such a thing? And yet she felt she like Michael Arlen's Iris Storm, a much misunders woman. 'Why didn't the world understand,' she said, a woman gives herself in love, in hate, in pity, in tenderne, in playfulness and in a hundred different moods? What right had p had people to judge one? Why can't I give myself to this boy?' she asked. The regular curves of his young body, its quick sudden flashes of movement, stirred the chords of her being in a strangely disturbing manner. But she, more than Iris Storm, had a pagan body and a Chislehurst mind. And she blamed the air of Simla which so conduced to thoughts of pleasure. So she arose and lazed about the bedroom, doing her long black hair, which was prematurely streaked with white, powdering and rouging her face. Munoo, who was naturally interested in the mysteries of her toilet, stole round the bedroom arranging things, but always at some distance from the Memsahib. Mrs. Mainwaring's heart palpitated with the ache of that desire which she had sought to stifle by occupying herself at the dressing-table. 'Fetch me the scissors from the Gol kamra, boy, she ordered in a tone calculated to suppress her dim awareness of the tenderness she felt for him. 'Yes, Memsahib,' Munoo answered, and proceeded to obey her command. When he came back with the scissors, she took them and deliberately taking hold of his hand which she knew to be dirty from dusting, exclaimed: 'You unclean boy, look at your hands, they are filthy. And look at your nails, they have never been cut for ages. Go and wash your hands and come back! I will file your nails for you.' Munoo did as she asked, willingly, for he had seen her the previous night manicure her own hands with strange instruments which she kept in a velvet box. May treated his hands with tender movements, smiled at him, and carelessly undraping her right leg before him, flourished a silken handkerchief which she had soaked in eau-de-Cologne, at him. Then she looked at him with a wild flutter in her eyes, and, completing the manicure with protracted blandishments, said: 'Beautiful boy! Lovely boy! You only want a wife now!' Munoo smiled with the quivering ripples of affection that the contact of her hands had produced in him. He felt dizzy with the intoxicating warmth that her coquettish movemertts had aroused in him. He hung his head down 314 1 to avoid the embarrassment which he felt, and yet unable to control the fire in his blood, he fell at her fect in an orgy of tears and kisses. She pushed him away suddenly, shout- ing: What impertinence! What cheek! Go to your work! Go and get your work done! Get the breakfast ready! 315/350 Munoo rushed away to the servants' quarter feeling very guilty, and wondered how he could face the Memsa again. But he had to face her, because the breakfast ready to be laid out. Only Circe made it difficult for by asking him when he came to lay the table: Why are you crying? Has mummy beaten you?" Still, he forgot about his misery during breakfast, for this bad always been a celebrated meal in Mrs. Main- waring's household, wherever that household had happen.d to be during the last three years. It started at eight o'clock and finished at twelve to half-past twelve. It had been adopted under doctor's orders. For Mrs. Mainwaring had been ill, very ill, with a gall stone in her bladder. The surgeons in three London hospitals had advised her to have the gall stone operated upon and cut. But she was not sure whether she had a gall stone in her bladder at all. She would not have any part of her body removed, though she would not have minded having her body under the waist chopped off because, she said, she was disgusted with the use which God put it. Anyhow, fancying herself ill and not wanting to have an operation performed, she had gone to Dr. Stephenson, the food reform specialist, who declared that the -pills pills and mixtures which the hospitals gave her were foul and that he could cure her in his own way in a day. Eat more fruit,' he said, like the Covent Garden posters. "Eat apples, pears, peaches, grapes and eight shelled almonds every morning. On no account suck oranges. Carry out my instructions every morning and you will become well. She was very impressionable, and once an impulse or an idea occurred to her she was obsessed by it and made it a law. This suggestion about dict went home, because she had been overeating for months. She took Dr. Stephenson's 315 advice and adopted apples, pears, grapes, almonds and Force, as a menu for breakfast. And, relishing the taste of the fruit, she felt she was cured, though she had really not, been ill at all, and had only fancied herself as a poor, help- less, suffering little thing to get the sympathy of her friends But the fancy was pleasant. The delights of a rich fruit breakfast were immeasurable. Especially because a fruit breakfast could not be hurried and was a convenient method of killing time. She peeled the apples and pears and even the grapes, slowly, delicately, with infinite care, casting the peel in saucers, in plates, on and about the table, till the table looked a sickening sight. And she sat, still in the black skirt and red jumper over the pyjama suit, a picture of sheer disintegration. By the time she had finished breakfast the bottles of brand brandy and gin that lay on the side-board tempted her. And, immediately after these appetizers lunch was announced. For Ala Dad, the Khansamah, was punctual to a minute, whatever else he might or might not be. He pretended that it was in the Memsahib's interest for him to be 'up to taime,' though the cunning old fellow knew that it was also in his own interests, because if the tiffin was not out of the way and the afternoon wore on, the Memsahib would would lose the commissions he received from merchants on the purchases. The thirty rupees pay 'Maining' Sahib gave him was not even sufficient to his wife and daughter and to keep his son at school thought. How could he save up for his old age, if.mo earning a few rupees in commissions? And there was harm in robbing the rich. These Sahibs had plenty of the shopping and come to know the bazaar pr 317/350 money, only the Indians were poor. 'Memsahib, what will huzoor desire for dinner,' said Ala Dad, standing serenely by the table in his white coat and turban with a red cummerbund across his waist. 'Tum-tum Machi (fish) Stickanis Plumpud (plum pudding), orright?" 'No, Aia Dad,' said Mrs. Mainwaring. 'Dinner with the 316 Stuart Memsahib downstairs, to-night. But you come and serve.' 'Orright, Memsahib,' said Ala Dad, rather crestfallen and peeyed. This Memsahib knew too much. She was a kali (black) Mem, natu (native). The real Sahibs did not know the prices in the market. If he had known that the 'Main- ing Sahib had a black Mem, he thought, he certainly would not have taken this job. However, he was going to endure it as long as possible, and see how much she knew, because even the all-knowing did not know all that he knew. 'Ask the boy to get a rickshaw from the stand,' ordered Mrr Mainwaring. 'Only three coolies,' she continued, 'the boy is to be the fourth.' 'Yea huzoor,' said Ala Dad, bowing with a weird light in his ordinarily dim eyes. While Mrs. Mainwaring dressed, Munoo and the three other coolies he had engaged came with the rickshaw and waited on the drive. The boy wished there was a motor engine attached to the carriage, as he was not looking forward to pushing it uphill to the Mall. But the rickshaw is the only wheeled vehicle that is allowed in Simla, except that the three great potentates of the hill, Their Excellencies the Viceroy of India, the Com- mander-in-Chief, and the Governor of Punjab, drive in cars triages drawn by horses. Apart from these, everyone, be he a Maharajah or a member of Parliament, has to be content with a rickshaw driven by men. It is arr fmprovement on the jampans and dandis which used to be the only means of conveyance before the rick- shaws came. For the jampan, which was not unlike a four post bed with curtains for protection against the sun and the rain was, though comfortable enough for the rider, rather a back-aching abomination for the coolies. And the dandi, a piece of loose foot rest, was, if anything, slightly worse, because it grated the shoulders of the men away. But, as in all matters, it was ultimately the preference of the riders of jampans and dandis which led to the change. 317 318/350 Lying flat on the back in a jampan and being carried L four men, continually evoked the illusion of being carried in a hearse. And, if the ascent up the seat of the dandi was not carefully negotiated, a half somersault backward, rer sulted, and even when the entrance was safely accomplisher the rider always appeared to himself to be occupying.