For a few moments I stared vacantly out of the window. Then a wave of kindness for myself convinced me that only through errors did a man come to be a seeker. And that maybe I needed to go through all this to realize the futility of the selfish life. I must, therefore, accept the dread, the dread of error, accept the few things that came clear from the incertitude, and go on. In this way I could perhaps drain all my doubts to the dregs. I would have to avoid self-torment. But even if the process of accepting the new way of life brought difficulties and torments, I should accept these and not turn away. It was possible that if I submitted to the impending adventure, the hopelessness would go.
And to expunge the dread, perhaps it would be a good idea to recapitulate and write down my experiences of Victor, for in that way I could attempt a conscious appreciation of my erroneous life. I could find confirmation of my new belief from my memories, the conviction of the preciousness of integrity that I had let slip through the compromises of the last few years. And thus I may come through the portals of dread to real love for my people. And to hope for them and myself. There was still tenderness in me and faith in the search for an ideal, in spite of all the clogging shortcomings. And, being a seeking human, I would return again and again to the sources of strength in this tenderness.
My duty was, therefore, clear. I would go back to the jungle of Sham Pur. I would try to penetrate every thicket. And I would fumble about in the darkness, maybe often in despair against the odds. But I would persist and carve out a pathway for myself and others, away from the wrong roads, where I could walk upright among the men who were straightening their backs. I would struggle. For in this struggle born of tenderness was life.
When I went to have a last look at Victor the next morning, I found further confirmation of my decision to leave Poona: he seemed to be dimly aware of who I was and suddenly became very violent, even murderous.
‘I will kill you!’ he shouted. And, opening his mouth wide as the jaws of hell, he sat up in bed raving foul obscenities.
I stood motionless by the door, taken aback by the onslaught, aghast, almost as one is if a dog suddenly yelps when one enters a house.
I tried to calm him and said soothingly:
‘Victor! Victor! please . . .’
He mocked at me by repeating what I said. And he spurted more abuse, twisting his mouth, contorting it into all kinds of shapes and spitting in all directions, foaming and inundating the room with shrieks and howls, his face red and his eyes glittering. Fortunately, he was held down over the thighs and the shins by the sheets. Otherwise the roaring cataract of his body would have swept me off my feet.
I searched in my disturbed and shocked mind for the reason of this outburst against me, and I could only think that he was making me the symbol of all those who had betrayed him. Apparently, he still had some idea of reference and his vague sense of persecution had fixed upon me as the enemy now when really he was hostile to Sardar Patel, Diwan Popatlal J. Shah, Pandit Gobind Das, Bool Chand, Gangi, etc.
‘How to change his mind?’ I asked myself. But as I was speculating, he suddenly began to sob in the most hopeless tone of voice, like a mad dog who gets tired of raving. How should one free him from his madness? How could one help him?
The sobs had become a maudlin sing-song of weeping. And now he did not even seem to be conscious of my presence. Had he recognized me at all? Or was he now only the king of the border kingdom of nightmares whose logic was buried in him? Immediately came a partial answer. He stopped crying and said, ‘Oh, Hari, take me away from here!’ And then as quickly as the perception became acute enough to pass for recognition he was shouting foul abuse against me and the attendants and was enveloped in his dream world, encircled by the shadows, merged into the extinction which means the loss of any sense of reality.
I felt that I could not help him, that helping by desiring to help was mere sentimentalism and that, in fact, I was hindering his cure by my constant presence.
So I came out of the room and decided to go and say goodbye to Captain Bhagwat.
The lovely Poona sun was shining on the asylum as though it had deliberately set itself to repurify the fury-infested world inside. But fifty yards away from the main gate on the inner road, a mad man was having an altercation with the sun, looking steadily at it with wide-open eyes, and uttering certain loud, joylessly jubilant sounds, interrupted by self-suffocating, furtive whispers, half clamouring, half praying, as he raised his joined hands to Surya.
As I entered Captain Bhagwat’s office, the clerk handed me three letters. The Superintendent was busy, so I sat down by his clerk and began to open the envelopes with eager fingers. I opened the brown envelope which obviously contained a communication from Sham Pur State. It was a summons from the magistrate to appear on the 10th January in the case of the murder of Srijut Bool Chand. That was that, I thought. The decision to go back to Sham Pur State was made for me.
One of the other two letters bore my address in the handwriting of Munshi Mithan Lal, but the script on the other was strange. I opened the letter from Mian Mithu next. This was a long epistle, full of gushing affection and a sentimental plea to come and help him in the ‘hour of trial’, as he put it. Apparently he had also been arrested and charged with abetting the murder of Bool Chand and was in jail and was not even being allowed bail.
The third letter was from Maharani Indira, saying briefly that she was arriving in Poona to look after her husband and would I make arrangements for her stay.
I had hardly glanced at this note when Captain Bhagwat came out of his office, ready to go on his round of the asylum. He did not see me waiting for him. So I got up abruptly and, noticing the preoccupied, busy look on his face, simply said:
‘Captain Bhagwat, I have come to ask your leave; I will be going to Sham Pur before noon.’
The Superintendent shook hands with me and said:
‘Oh, I have had a wire from some maharani, saying she is coming to look after her husband. I suppose you know about her?’
‘Han, she has written to me too,’ I said. ‘She is Maharani Indira, the wife of Maharaja Ashok Kumar—the real Maharani.’
‘Well, you must tell her that she will only be able to see her husband once a week,’ Captain Bhagwat said.
‘I will do that,’ I said. ‘I will wire her and also write to her. Meanwhile, I know you will look after him.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Captain Bhagwat. But his eyes were looking ahead of him and he made as if to go.
‘Acha,’ I said. ‘I am grateful for your courtesy.’ And I offered him my hand.
He shook it with a certain hurried cordiality and walked away.
I wended my way towards the asylum gates to the waiting taxi, reflecting on the irony and tenderness of a woman’s love that would pursue a man even to hell to rescue him when the love was selfless and real.
A Select Glossary
Aidi-cong:
Aide-de-camp
Arec:
Juice
Baradari:
A masonry structure with twelve arches
Begar:
Forced labour
Buk buk:
Stupid talk, idle chatter
Chamar:
One of the inferior castes of leather-workers, shoemakers, etc.
Chandal:
An outcaste
Chandidas:
A Hindu mystic of the middle ages
Chilm:
Clay pot or hubble-bubble
Chota hazri:
Breakfast
Dali:
Basket
Deohri:
Hall
Elephantaauna:
A tax levied by feudal landlords through which tenants had to pay for the landlord’s purchase of an elephant.
Ghusal:
Bath
Git-mit:
Chatter
Golbagh:
Garden
Gol kamra:
Living room
Han Ni:
Harnam Kauré:
A legendary heroine of the songs of Punjabi soldiers during World War I
Jali:
Trelliswork in Indian architecture
Jayadeva:
A salutation, meaning victory to the gods
Kalijug:
Dialectal pronunciation of Kaliyug
Kama-loka:
The sensual world
Kana-phusi:
Whispering
Khud:
Ravine
Khuti:
Children’s game played with marbles
Kulah:
A Pathan cap on which a turban is tied
Ladhia:
Punjabi dialectic expression for hero
Late Latif:
A common Hindi term for a latecomer
Mara:
The devil in Buddhist mythology
Mehter:
Sweeper
Motrauna:
A tax levied on tenants to enable the landowner to purchase his motor car
Musla:
A crude and offensive epithet for a Muslim
Natu:
Native
Nawan Jug:
‘New Era’, (here) name of a journal
Nazarana:
Gift demanded by landlord before giving audience to the tenant
Padmanabha:
Supreme God according to the Hindus of Travancore in south India; an incarnation of Vishnu
Parwana:
A message
Phat-phaties:
Motorcycles
Pilpali Sahib:
Imitation sahib
Poorbia:
A person from upper (northern) India
Posh:
Keep away!
Puthwar shoes:
Strong shoes with upturned toes
Saki:
Cup-bearer
Shaikh Chilli:
A legendary boaster in Persian literature
Seer:
Indian term of weight—just over two pounds
Shioh:
Washerman’s shout while washing clothes
Srijut:
Mister
Swadarma:
Sense control
Tehmet:
Loincloth
Tika:
Heir to the throne
Tikyali Rani:
The mother of the heir to the throne
Tish-mish:
Slang for spoken English
Upa Raj Pramukh:
An ancient title meaning head of the confederacy of princes
Yekka:
Horse-carriage, slightly inferior to a tonga
THE BEGINNING
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This omnibus edition first published in Viking by Penguin Books india 2004
Published as Classic Mulk Raj Anand 2014
www.penguinbooksindia.com
Copyright © Mulk Raj Anand 2004
Introduction © Saros Cowasjee 2004
Untouchable (1935) and Coolie (1936) were first published by lawrence & Wishart, London; Private Life of an Indian Prince (1953) was first published by Hutchinson, London
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-143-42240-2
This digital edition published in 2013.
e-ISBN: 978-9-351-18598-7
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser and without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above-mentioned publisher of this book.
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