The Mystic Masseur Part 12

Beharry and Ganesh worked on the copy and they produced that challenging advertis.e.m.e.nt which was to be so famous later on: WHO IS IS THIS THIS G GANESH? The 'this' was Beharry's idea.

There was one other thing. Ganesh was not happy to be called simply a pundit. He felt he was more than that and he felt that he was ent.i.tled to a weightier word. So, remembering the Hollywood Hindus, he nailed a signboard on the mango tree: GANESH, Mystic. Mystic.

'Is nice,' Beharry said, looking at it closely and nibbling, while he rubbed his belly under his vest. 'Is very nice, but you think people go believe you is a mystic?'

'But the advertis.e.m.e.nt in the papers 'That was two weeks back. People forget that long time. If you want people to believe you, you must start a advertising campaign. Yes, advertising campaign.'

'So they won't believe, eh? All right, let we see how much they won't believe.'

He built a small shed in his front yard, thatched it with carat carat palm which he had to get all the way from Debe, and put up some stands in it. On these stands he displayed about three hundred of his books, including the palm which he had to get all the way from Debe, and put up some stands in it. On these stands he displayed about three hundred of his books, including the Questions and Answers Questions and Answers. Leela put out the books in the mornings and brought them in at night.

'Won't believe!' Ganesh said.

Then he waited for clients, as he called them.

Suruj Mooma told Leela, 'I feel sorry for you, Leela, girl. Ganesh gone mad this time.'

'Well, is his books, and I don't see why he shouldn't let people see them. Other people does drive about in their big car to show it off.'

'I so glad Suruj p.o.o.pa is not a big reader. I so glad n.o.body bother to educate me after Third Standard.'

Beharry shook his head. 'Yes, man. This education and reading is a dangerous thing. Is one of the very first things I tell Ganesh.'

Ganesh waited for a month. No clients came.

'Is another twenty dollars you throw away on that advertis.e.m.e.nt,' Leela moaned. 'And that sign and those books. You make me the laughing-stock in Fuente Grove.'

'Well, girl, is only the country district here, and if plenty people ain't see, plenty people ain't here to laugh. Personally, I feel we want another advertis.e.m.e.nt in the papers. Proper advertising campaign.'

Leela began to sob. 'No, man. Why you don't give up and take a work? Look at Suruj Mooma cousin, look at Sookram. The boy give up dentistry and Sookram give up ma.s.saging and take a work like a brave man. Suruj Mooma tell me that Sookram getting more than thirty dollars a week from the Americans. Man, for my sake, why you don't make up a brave mind and take a work?'

'You looking at this thing from the wrong point of view. Your science of thought tell you that the war going to last for ever? And what go happen to Sookram and the other ma.s.sagers when the Americans leave Trinidad?'

Leela still sobbed.

Ganesh forced a smile and became coaxing. 'Look, Leela girl, we go put another advertis.e.m.e.nt in the papers, and we go have my picture and we go have your picture. Side by side. Husband and wife. Who is this Ganesh? Who Who is this Leela?' is this Leela?'

She stopped crying and her face brightened for a moment, but then she began to cry in earnest.

'G.o.d, woman! If man did listen to woman all the time, nothing at all woulda happen in this world. Beharry was right. A woman does keep a man back. All right, all right, leave me and run back to your father. Think I care?'

And he stuck his hands in his pockets and went to see Beharry.

'No luck?' Beharry queried, nibbling.

'Why you have this thing about asking d.a.m.n fool questions, eh? But don't think I worried. What is for me I will get.'

Beharry put his hand under his vest. It was a warning, as Ganesh knew now, that Beharry was going to give advice. 'I think you make a big big mistake in not writing the companion volume. That's where you go wrong.'

'Look, Beharry. It have a d.a.m.n long time now you judging me like some blasted magistrate, and telling me where I go wrong. I read a lot of psychology book about people like you, you know. And what those book have to say about you ain't nice, I can tell you.'

'Is only for you I worried.' Beharry pulled away his hand from his vest.

Suruj Mooma came into the shop. 'Ah, Ganesh. How?'

'How "how"?' Ganesh snapped. 'You can't see?

Beharry said, 'Is a suggestion I have to make to you.'

'All right, I listening. But I ain't responsible for what I do when I finish listening.'

'Is really Suruj Mooma idea.'

'Oh.'

'Yes, Ganesh. Me and Suruj p.o.o.pa been thinking a lot about you. We thinking that you must stop wearing trousers and a s.h.i.+rt.'

'It don't suit a mystic,' Beharry said.

'You must wear proper dhoti and koortah koortah. I was talking only last night to Leela about it when she come here to buy cooking-oil. She think is a good idea too.'

Ganesh's annoyance began to melt. 'Yes, is a idea. You feel it go bring me luck?'

'Is what Suruj Mooma say.'

Next morning Ganesh involved his legs in a dhoti and called Leela to help him tie the turban.

'Is a nice one,' she said.

'One of my father old ones. Make me feel funny wearing it.'

'Something telling me it go bring you luck.'

'You really think so?' Ganesh cried, and almost kissed her.

She pulled away. 'Look what you doing, man.'

Then Ganesh, a strange and striking figure in white, went to the shop.

'You look like a real maharaj maharaj,' Suruj Mooma said.

'Yes, he look nice,' said Beharry. 'It make me wonder why more Indians don't keep on wearing their own dress.'

Suruj Mooma warned, 'You better not start, you hear. Your legs thin enough already and they look funny even in trousers.'

'It look good, eh?' Ganesh smiled.

Beharry said, 'n.o.body would believe now that you did go to the Christian college in Port of Spain. Man, you look like a pukka brahmin.'

'Well, I have a feeling. I feel my luck change as from today.'

A child began crying inside. 'My luck don't change,' Suruj Mooma said. 'If it ain't Suruj p.o.o.pa, is the children. Look at my hands, Ganesh. You see how smooth they is. They can't even leave finger-prints now.'

Suruj came into the shop. 'The baby crying crying, Ma.'

Suruj Mooma left and Beharry and Ganesh began a discussion about dress through the ages. Beharry was putting forward a daring view that dress wasn't necessary at all in a hot place like Trinidad when he broke off suddenly and said, 'Listen.'

Above the rustle of the wind through the sugar-cane came the rattle of a motor car b.u.mping along the lumpy road.

Ganesh was excited. 'Is somebody coming to see me.' Then he became very calm.

A light green 1937 Chevrolet stopped in front of the shop. There was a woman at the back and she was trying to shout above the beat of the engine.

Ganesh said, 'Go and talk to she, Beharry.'

The engine was turned off before Beharry could get down the shop steps. The woman said, 'Who is this Ganesh?'

'This is this Ganesh,' Beharry said.

And Ganesh stood, dignified and unsmiling, in the centre of the shop doorway.

The woman looked at him carefully. 'I driving all from Port of Spain to see you.'

Ganesh walked slowly towards the car. 'Good morning,' he said, but in his determination to be correct he was a little too curt and the woman was discomfited.

'Good morning.' She had to fumble for the words.

Speaking slowly, because he wanted to speak properly, Ganesh said, 'I do not live here and I cannot talk to you here. I live down the road.'

'Hop in the car,' the taxi-driver said.

'I prefer to walk.'

It was a strain for him to talk correctly and the woman noted, with obvious satisfaction, that he was moving his lips silently before every sentence, as though he were mumbling a prayer.

Her satisfaction turned to respect when the car stopped outside Ganesh's house and she saw the GANESH, Mystic Mystic sign on the mango tree and the book-display in the shed. sign on the mango tree and the book-display in the shed.

'Is books you selling on the side, or what?' the taxi-driver asked.

The woman looked sideways at him and nodded towards the sign. She began to say something when the taxi-driver, for no apparent reason, blew his horn and drowned her words.

Leela came running out, but with a glance Ganesh told her to keep out of the way. To the woman he said, 'Come into the study.'

The word had the desired effect.

'But take off your shoes here in the verandah first.'

Respect turned to awe. And when the woman brushed through the Nottingham lace curtains into the study and saw all the books, she looked abject.

'My only vice,' Ganesh said.

The woman just stared.

'I don't smoke. I don't drink.'

She sat awkwardly on a blanket on the floor. 'Is a matter of life and death, mister, so whatever I say you mustn't laugh.'

Ganesh looked straight at her. 'I never laugh. I listen.'

'Is about my son. A cloud following him.'

Ganesh didn't laugh. 'What sort of cloud?'

'A black cloud. And every day is getting nearer. The cloud even talking to the boy now. The day the cloud reach him the boy go dead. I try everything. The real doctors and them want to put the boy in the mad-house in St Ann's, but you know that once they put anybody there they does get mad for true. So what I do? I take him to the priest. The priest say the boy possess, and paying for his sins. It have a long time now I see your advertis.e.m.e.nt, but I didn't know what you could do.'

As she spoke Ganesh scribbled in one of his note-books. He had written, Black boy under a black cloud; Black boy under a black cloud; and he had drawn a great black cloud. 'You mustn't worry. Lots of people see clouds. How long your son has been seeing the cloud?' and he had drawn a great black cloud. 'You mustn't worry. Lots of people see clouds. How long your son has been seeing the cloud?'

'Well, to tell you the truth, the whole baccha.n.a.l begin not long after his brother dead.'

Ganesh added to the black cloud in his note-book and said, 'Hmmh!' Then he chanted a short Hindi hymn, snapped his notebook shut, and threw his pencil down. 'Bring the boy tomorrow. And don't worry about priests. Tell me, you you see the cloud?' see the cloud?'

The woman looked distressed. 'No. That is the thing. None of we ain't see the cloud, apart from the boy.'

'Well, don't worry. Things would be bad if you really did see the cloud.'

He led her to the taxi. The taxi-driver was sleeping with the Trinidad Sentinel Trinidad Sentinel over his face. He was awakened, and Ganesh watched the car drive away. over his face. He was awakened, and Ganesh watched the car drive away.

'I did feel this coming, man,' Leela said. 'I did tell you that your luck change.'

'We don't know what going to happen yet, girl. Give me a chance to think this thing out.'

He remained a long time in the study consulting his uncle's books. His ideas were slowly beginning to form, when Beharry came in a temper.

'Ganesh, how you so ungrateful?'

'What happening now?'

Beharry looked helpless in his anger. He nibbled so furiously that for a while he couldn't speak. When he could, he stammered. 'Don't tell me you don't know. Why you couldn't walk up to the shop to tell me what happen, eh? For a hundred and one weeks you coming up all the time, but today you prefer to make me leave my shop, leave only little Suruj in charge, and come to see you.'

'But I was going to come later, man.'

'Tell me, what go happen if somebody come to the shop and beat up little Suruj and Suruj Mooma and thief everything?'

'Was going to come, Beharry. Only thing I was doing a little thinking first.'

'No, you wasn't. You just getting conceited now, that is all. Is the trouble with Indians all over the world.'

'But this new thing I handling is something really big.'