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Ch 11 - A Passage to India · A Passage to India

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  Chapter eleven. Although the Indians had driven off and Fielding could see his horse
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  standing in a small shed in the corner of the compound, no one troubled
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  to bring it to him. He started to get it himself, but was
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  stopped by a call from the house. Aziz was sitting up in bed,
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  looking disheveled and sad. Here's your home, he said, sardonically, here's
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  the celebrated hospitality of the East. Look at the flies, Look at the
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  chunam coming off the walls. Isn't it jolly? Now? I suppose you
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  want to be off, having seen an oriental interior. Anyhow you want to
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  rest, I can rest the whole day thanks to worthy doctor Lal Major Calender's
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  spy. I suppose you know, but this time it didn't work. I
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  am allowed to have a slight temperature. Calendar doesn't trust anyone English or Indian.
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  That's his character. And I wish you weren't under him, but you
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  are. And that's that. Before you go for you are evidently in a
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  great hurry. Will you please unlock that drawer? Do you see a piece
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  of brown paper at the top? Yes, open it? Who is this?
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  She was my wife? You are the first Englishman she has ever come
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  before. Now put her photograph away. He was astonished, as a traveler
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  who suddenly sees between the stones of the desert flowers. The flowers have been
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  there all the time, but suddenly he sees them. He tried to look
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  at the photograph, but in itself it was just a woman in a sorry
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  facing the world. He muttered, Really, I don't know why you pay
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  me this great compliment, Aziz, but I do appreciate it. Oh,
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  it's nothing. She was not a highly educated woman or even beautiful. But
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  put it away. You would have seen her. So why should you not
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  see her photograph? You would have allowed me to see her. Why not?
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  I believe in Porta. But I should have told her you were my
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  brother, and she would have seen you. Amidullah saw her and several others.
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  Did she think they were your brothers? Of course not. But the
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  word exists and is convenient. All men are my brothers, and as soon
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  as one behaves as such, he may see my wife. And when the
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  whole world behaves as such, there will be no more Porta. It is
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  because you can say and feel such a remark as that that I show you
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  the photograph said Uzzies gravely. It is beyond the power of most men.
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  It is because you behave well while I behave badly that I show it to
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  you. I never expected you to come back just now. When I called
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  you, I thought he has certainly done with me. I have insulted him.
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  Mister Fielding, no one can ever realize how much kindness we Indians need.
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  We do not even realize it ourselves, but we know when it has
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  been given. We do not forget. Though we may seem to kindness,
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  more kindness, and even after that, more kindness. I assure you it
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  is the only hope. His voice seemed to arise from a dream, altering
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  it yet still deep below his normal surface. He said, we can't build
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  up India except on what we feel. What is the use of all these
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  reforms and conciliation committees for muhoram? And shall we cut the taziyah short or
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  shall we carry it another route? And counsels of notables and official parties where
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  the English sneer at our skins. It's beginning at the wrong end, isn't
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  it. I know, But institutions and governments don't. He looked again at
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  the photograph the lady faced the world at her husband's wish and her own.
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  But how bewildering she found it. The echoing contradictory world put her away.
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  She is of no importance. She is dead, said Azziz gently. I
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  showed her to you because I have nothing else to show. You may look
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  round the whole of my bungalow now and empty everything. I have no other
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  secrets. My three children live away with their grand Mamma, and that is
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  all. Fielding sat down by the bed, flattered at the trust reposed in
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  him, yet rather sad. He felt old. He wished that he too
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  could be carried away on waves of emotion. The next time they met.
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  Azziz might be cautious and stand offish. He realized this, and it made
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  him sad that he should realize it. Kindness, kindness, and more kindness,
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  yes, that he might supply, But was that really all that the
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  queer nation needed? Did it not also demand an occasional intoxication of the blood.
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  What had he done to deserve this outburst of confidence? And what hostage
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  could he give in exchange? He looked back at his own life. What
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  a poor crop of secrets it had produced. There were things in it that
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  he had shown to no one, but they were so uninteresting it wasn't worth
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  while lifting a porta on their account. He'd been in love, engaged to
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  be married, lady broke it off. Memories of her and thoughts about her
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  had kept him from other women for a time, then in dull ulgence,
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  followed by repentance and equilibrium. Meager really except the equilibrium, and Aziz didn't
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  want to have that confided to him. He would have called it everything ranged
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  coldly on shelves. I shall not really be intimate with this fellow, Fielding
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  thought, and then nor with anyone. That was the corollary, and he
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  had to confess that he really didn't mind that. He was content to help
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  people and like them as long as they didn't object, and if they objected,
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  pass on serenely. Experience can do much, and all that he had
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  learnt in England and Europe was an assistance to him and helped him towards clarity.
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  But clarity prevented him from experiencing something else. How did you like the
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  two ladies you met last Thursday? He asked. Azziz shook his head distastefully.
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  The question reminded him of his rash remark about the Mara barcades. How
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  do you like englishwomen generally? Hamidula liked them in England. Here we never
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  look at them. Oh no, much too careful. Let's talk of something
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  else. Hamidula's right, they are much nicer in England. There's something that
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  doesn't suit them out here. Azziz, after another silence, said why are
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  you not married? Fielding was pleased that he had been asked, because I
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  have more or less come through without it. He replied. I was thinking
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  of telling you a little about myself some day, if I can make it
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  interesting enough. The lady I liked wouldn't marry me. That is the main
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  point. But that's fifteen years ago and now means nothing. But you haven't
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  children none? Excuse the following question, have you any illegitimate children? No?
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  I'd willingly tell you if I had, then your name will entirely die
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  out. It must well, He shook his head. This indifference is what
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  the Oriental will never understand. I don't care for children. Caring has nothing
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  to do with it, he said impatiently. I don't feel their absence.
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  I don't want them we being around my deathbed and being polite about me afterwards,
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  which I believe is the general notion. I'd far rather leave a thought
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  behind me than a child. Other people can have children, no obligation with
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  England getting so choco block and overrunning India for jobs. Why don't you marry
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  misquested? Good God, why the girl's a prig? Prig? Prig?
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  Kindly explain? Isn't that a bad word? Oh? I don't know her,
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  but she struck me as one of the most pathetic products of Western education.
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  She depresses me, But prig, mister Fielding, how's that? She
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  goes on and on as if she's at a lecture, trying ever so hard
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  to understand Indiana and life, and occasionally taking a note. I thought her
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  so nice and sincere, so she probably is, said Fielding, ashamed of
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  his roughness. Any suggestion that he should marry always does produce overstatements on the
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  part of the bachelor and a mental breeze. But I can't marry her if
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  I wanted to, for she has just become engaged to the city magistrate,
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  has she Indeed? I am so glad, he exclaimed with relief, for
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  this exempted him from the Marabar expedition. He would scarcely be expected to entertain
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  regular Anglo Indians. It's the old mother's doing. She was afraid her dear
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  boy would choose for himself, so she brought out the girl on purpose and
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  flung them together until it happened. Missus Moore did not mention that to me
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  among her plans. I may have got it wrong. I'm out of club
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  gossip. But anyhow they're engaged to be married. Yes, you're out of
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  it, my poor chap, He smiled, no misquested for mister Fielding.
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  However, she was not beautiful. She has practically no breasts, if you
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  come to think of it. He smiled too, but found a touch of
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  bad taste in the reference to a lady's breasts. For the city magistrate,
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  they shall be sufficient, perhaps, and he for her. But for you,
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  I shall arrange a lady with breasts like mangoes. No you won't.
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  I will not, really, And besides, your position makes it dangerous for
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  you. His mind had slipped from matrimony to Calcutta. His face grew grave
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  fancy if he had persuaded the principle to accompany him there and then got him
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  into trouble, And abruptly he took up a new attitude towards his friend,
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  the attitude of the protector who knows the dangers of India and is admonitory.
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  You can't be too careful in every way, mister Fielding. Whatever you say
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  or do in this damned country, there is always some envious fellow on the
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  lookout. You may be surprised to know that there were at least three spies
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  sitting here when you came to enquire. I was really a good deal.
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  Upset that you talked in that fashion about God. They will certainly report it
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  to whom. That's all very well, But you spoke against morality also,
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  and you said you had come to take other people's jobs. All that was
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  very unwise. This is an awful place for scandal. Why actually, one
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  of your own pupils was listening. Thanks for telling me that, yes,
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  I must try and be more careful. If I'm interested, I'm apt to
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  forget myself. Still, it doesn't do real harm. But speaking out may
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  get you into trouble. It's often done so in the past. There Listen
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  to that, but the end of it might be that you lost your job.
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  If I do I do, I shall survive it. I travel light,
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  Travel light. You are a most extraordinary race, said Azziz, turning
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  away as if he were going to sleep, and immediately turning back again.
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  Is it your climate or what. Plenty of Indians travel light too, sadus
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  and such. It's one of the things I admire about your country. Any
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  man can travel light until he has a wife for children. That's part of
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  my case against marriage. I'm a holy man. The holiness. Hand that
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  on to your three spies and tell them to put it in their pipes.
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  Azziz was charmed and interested and turned the new idea over in his mind.
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  So this was why mister Fielding and a few others were so fearless. They
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  had nothing to lose. But he himself was rooted in society and Islam.
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  He belonged to a tradition which bound him, and he had brought children into
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  the world, the society of the future. Though he lived so vaguely in
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  this flimsy bungalow. Nevertheless, he was placed placed. I can't be sacked
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  from my job because my job's education. I believe in teaching people to be
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  individuals and to understand other individuals. It's the only thing I do believe in.
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  At government college, I mix it up with trigonometry and so on.
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  When I'm asadu, I shall mix it up with something else. He concluded
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  his manifesto, and both were silent. The eye flies became worse than ever
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  and danced close up to their pupils or crawled into their ears. Fielding hit
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  about wildly. The exercise made him hot, and he got up. You
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  might tell your servant to bring my horse. He doesn't seem to appreciate my
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  ordu. I know I gave him orders not to. Such are the tricks
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  we play on unfortunate Englishmen, poor mister Fielding. But I will release you
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  now, oh dear, with the exception of yourself and Hamidula. I have
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  no one to talk to in this place. You like Hamidula, don't you
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  very much? Do you promise to come at once to us when you are
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  in trouble. I can never be in trouble. There goes a queer chap.
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  I trust he won't come to grief thought. Aziz left alone. His
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  period of admiration was over, and he reacted towards patronage. It was difficult
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  for him to remain in awe of anyone who played with all his cards on
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  the table. Fielding he discovered on closer acquaintance, was truly warm hearted and
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  unconventional, but not what can be called wise. That frankness of speech in
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  the presence of ramchand Rafi and company was dangerous and inelegant. It served no
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  useful end. But they were friends, brothers. That part was settled.
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  Their compact had been subscribed by the photograph. They trusted one another. Affection
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  had triumphed for once in a way. He dropped off to sleep amid the
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  happier memories of the last two hours poetry of Ghalib Female Grace good old Hamidullah
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  good Fielding his honored wife and dear boys. He passed into a region where
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  these joys had no enemies, but bloomed harmoniously in an eternal garden, or
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  ran down watershoots of red marble, or rose into domes where under were inscribed
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  black against white. The ninety nine attributes of God. End of Chapter eleven.