The Mystic Masseur Part 17

Silence, for three little sips of Coca-Cola.

Swami put down his gla.s.s with decision, but with unintentioned violence, and Leela came and stood at one of the drawing-room doors. Swami took up his gla.s.s again and smiled. 'Yes, sahib,' he said, with great cheerfulness. 'We ain't come here to beat about the bush. You is the only man with authority among all Trinidad Indians to stand up to Narayan. We don't approve of the way Narayan attacking you. We come here today, sahib' Swami became solemn 'to ask you to form up your own own a.s.sociation. We go make you President straightaway and you ain't have to look very far you have three a.s.sistant-Presidents sitting down quiet quiet in front of you drinking Coca-Cola.'

'What Narayan do you so?'

'Don't ask me,' Partap said surlily. 'Nasty attack on me and my family, pundit. Accusing my own father of bribery and and corruption in the local Road Board. And he always does call me a Post Office man, just for spite. I write letters, but he don't print them.' corruption in the local Road Board. And he always does call me a Post Office man, just for spite. I write letters, but he don't print them.'

'And me he accusing of robbing poor people.' Swami looked pained. 'Sahib, it have more than eighteen months now you know me. I organize a hundred and one prayer-meetings for you. Sahib, a man of my standing go ever rob poor people?' Swami was a solicitor's tout in Couva.

'And what Narayan do the boy?'

Swami laughed and took a big gulp of Coca-Cola. The boy looked down into his gla.s.s. 'Narayan ain't do him anything yet yet, sahib. He only here for the experience.'

The boy's face grew darker with embarra.s.sment.

'But he is a bright little boy, you know.' The boy frowned into his gla.s.s. 'My sister son. A genius, man, sahib. First shot, he get a first grade in the Cambridge School Certificate.'

Ganesh thought of his own second grade at the age of nineteen. He said, 'Ummh,' and took his first sip of Coca-Cola.

Partap went on, 'It not right, sahib. Every day you open the Sentinel Sentinel, two to one you find something on page three about Narayan sending off greeting cables.'

Ganesh took a long draught of Coca-Cola.

Swami said, 'You must do something, sahib. Start up your own a.s.sociation. Or bring out a paper. Is another thing where I have a whole ton of experience. When I was young, man, sahib, in the nineteen-twenties, a year didn't pa.s.s off without Swami bringing out a new paper. I had to go up to Port of Spain law business, you know and I went to the Registrar office. Man, it surprise me self the number of paper I bring out. But I change now. I say you must bring out a paper only when you have a good good reason.'

Everybody drank some Coca-Cola.

'But I must stop talking about myself. This little boy here, sahib, he is a born writer. Man, if you does hear the English word he does use word as long as my hand, man!' Swami held out his right arm until his s.h.i.+rt tautened at the arm-pit.

Ganesh looked at the boy.

'He shy today,' Swami said.

'But don't let that fool you,' Partap said. 'He thinking all the time.'

They drank a lot more Coca-Cola and talked a lot more, but Ganesh refused to be convinced, although there was in their arguments much that attracted him. That business of bringing out his own newspaper, for example, had repeatedly crossed his mind. In fact, sometimes on Sundays he had shouted to Leela to bring him paper and red pencils and he had made up dummy issues of newspapers. He had ruled columns, indicated which were for advertis.e.m.e.nts, which for edification. But this pleasure, like that of making note-books, was a private one.

Shortly afterwards, however, two things occurred that decided him to take action against Narayan.

You might say that the first began in the offices of the London Messenger Messenger. The war ended, throwing journalists more or less upon their own resources. The Messenger Messenger flew a correspondent to South America to cover a revolution that looked promising. Considering that the only human interest story he could get there was from a woman in a night-club who said, 'You are in bed. You hear bim-bam-bom. You say, "Revolution", and you go to sleep again,' the correspondent had done well. Having covered that revolution he flew back by way of Para, Georgetown, and Port of Spain, and uncovered crises in all three places. Apparently Trinidad natives were planning a revolt and British officials and their wives were taking revolvers to dances. The libel was publicity and pleased Trinidad. Ganesh was more concerned with the correspondent's a.n.a.lysis of the political situation, as reported back in the flew a correspondent to South America to cover a revolution that looked promising. Considering that the only human interest story he could get there was from a woman in a night-club who said, 'You are in bed. You hear bim-bam-bom. You say, "Revolution", and you go to sleep again,' the correspondent had done well. Having covered that revolution he flew back by way of Para, Georgetown, and Port of Spain, and uncovered crises in all three places. Apparently Trinidad natives were planning a revolt and British officials and their wives were taking revolvers to dances. The libel was publicity and pleased Trinidad. Ganesh was more concerned with the correspondent's a.n.a.lysis of the political situation, as reported back in the Trinidad Sentinel Trinidad Sentinel. Narayan was described as President of the extremist Hindu a.s.sociation. Narayan, 'who received me at his party headquarters', was the leader of the Indian community. Ganesh didn't mind that. He didn't mind the disparaging reference to the Hindu fanatics of South Trinidad. But he was needled when the correspondent lingered over romantic details when speaking of Narayan and described him as 'chain-smoking, balding C. S. Narayan, veteran journalist', and much more. He could take any amount of abuse from Narayan himself. England could, if it wished, think of Narayan as the leader of Trinidad Indians. But that England would read and remember that C. S. Narayan was chain-smoking, balding, and a veteran journalist was more than he could bear.

'I know is unreasonable, Beharry. But is how I feel.'

Beharry sympathized. 'A man could take big things. Is the little things like that what does cut up a man tail.'

'Something go have to happen, and then I go do for Narayan.'

Beharry nibbled. 'Is the way I like to hear you talk, pundit.'

And then, most opportunely, The Great Belcher brought great news.

'Oh, Ganesh, the shame! The shame to Indians that Narayan bringing!' She was so overcome she could only belch and ask for water. She got Coca-Cola. It made her burp between belches and she remained uncommunicative for some time. 'I done with CocaCola,' she said at last. 'I ain't modern enough for it. Next time is only water for me.'

'What shame?'

'Ah, boy. The Home for Dest.i.tutes Fund. You know Narayan start that?'

'The Little Bird talking about it for months now.'

'Home for Dest.i.tutes! As fast as the money collecting, the man buying estates. And was only by a chance I get to find out. I ain't know if you know how hard Gowrie having it these days. She is a sort of relation to Narayan. So, when I met Gowrie at Doolarie wedding and she start this big bawling and crying about money, I say, "Gowrie, why you don't go to Narayan and ask him? He having this fund for dest.i.tute." She say no, she can't go, because she got she pride and the fund still open. But I talk she into going and so when I see she yesterday at Daulatram funeral, I ask she, "You ask Narayan?" She say yes, she ask Narayan. "And what he do?" I ask. She say Narayan just begin one crying and losing his temper when she ask him, saying that everybody think that because he open one little fund he is a rich man. He say, "Gowrie, I poorer than you. How you could look at me and think I is rich? Just last week I had to buy a whole estate for fourteen thousand dollars. Where I go find all that money?" So he say and so he begin one long crying and Gowrie say in the end she feel that he he was going to ask she for money.' was going to ask she for money.'

Throughout the long speech The Great Belcher hadn't belched once. 'Is the Coca-Cola, you think?' Ganesh asked.

'No, so it does happen when I get carry away.'

'But how people ain't making a row about this fund, man?'

'Ah, boy, don't tell me you ain't know Trinidad. When people give money, you think they care who get it? Once they open they mouth and skin their teeth for a photo in the papers, they happy, you hear. And too besides, you believe they want this thing to come out for people to start laughing at them?'

'It ain't right. I ain't saying this because I is a mystic and all that, but I think that to any outsider it can't look right.'

'Is just how I feel,' The Great Belcher said.

So the deputation came again and sat, not in the verandah, but at the dining-table in the drawing-room. They looked at the pictures on the walls again. Once more Leela went through the ritual of taking out Coca-Cola from the refrigerator and pouring it into the beautiful gla.s.ses.

Swami was still dressed in white; there was the same array of pens and pencils in his s.h.i.+rt pocket, and the same letter. Partap had lost his adhesive plaster. The boy had discarded his short trousers for a double-breasted brown suit a size or two bigger than he required. He had a copy of Time Time magazine and the magazine and the New Statesman and Nation New Statesman and Nation.

Partap said, 'Narayan so smart he stupid. He playing right in we hand now, pundit. He changing his name, man. With Indians he is Chandra Shekar Narayan.'

'And with everybody else,' Swami added, 'Cyrus Stephen Narayan.'

Leela brought large sheets of paper and many red pencils.

Ganesh said, 'I think over what you say, and we going to start up we own paper.'

Swami said, 'Is just what go knock h.e.l.l out of Narayan.'

Ganesh ruled out columns on the sheet before him. 'Like in all things, we have to start small.'

The boy put Time and the New Statesman Time and the New Statesman on the table. 'These is small papers. on the table. 'These is small papers. Very Very small papers.' small papers.'

Swami laughed. It sounded like gargling in the next room. 'You see, sahib, the boy could talk good. And, man, he is a born writer. He know a lot more than plenty of big big man in this place.'

The boy repeated. 'Yes, these is very small papers.'

Ganesh smiled sympathetically. 'That go cost a lot, man. We have to start small and simple. Look at your uncle Swami. He start small when he did bringing out papers.'

Swami nodded solemnly.

'And Partap. And me. We did all have to start small. We starting up with four pages.'

'Only four pages?' the boy said petulantly. 'But that ain't no sort of paper at all, man.'

'Later we go build it up, man. Big big.'

'All right, all right.' The boy angrily pulled his chair away from the table. 'Go ahead and make up your so-call paper. But just leave me out of it.' He attended to his Coca-Cola.

'First page,' Ganesh announced. 'Bright page. No advertis.e.m.e.nts, except in the bottom right-hand corner.'

'I always did promise myself,' Partap said reverently, 'that if I did ever start up a paper, I woulda dedicate it to Mahatma Gandhi. I know a boy, if you treat him nice, could pick up a block with Gandhi picture from the Sentinel Sentinel office. We could put this on the top of the front page and I could always find out some words or something to go with it.' office. We could put this on the top of the front page and I could always find out some words or something to go with it.'

Ganesh marked out the s.p.a.ce for the homage.

'That settle,' Swami said.

The front page going to be a page of attack, attack,' Ganesh said. 'Leave that to me. I working on this article exposing the Dest.i.tutes Fund and Leela busy writing a little report about the social welfare work she doing.'

Swami was so pleased he tried to cross his gargantuan legs. The chair creaked and Ganesh looked hard at him. Leela came out and swept through the room. 'Some people look as if they are never see furnitures before. Next time I are going to bring some benches.'

Partap sat bolt upright and Swami smiled.

The boy, sitting against the wall next to the refrigerator, said, 'Yes, the page settle. But I wonder what people go say when they see in one side the page dedication to Mahatma Gandhi and in the other side attack, attack.'

Swami said sharply, 'Shut up, boy. Otherwise, don't mind you big and wearing long pants, I haul you across my knee and I give you a sound sound cut-a.r.s.e, right here, in front of the pundit self. And I leave you home next time and you never touch any paper I bring out. If you ain't have nothing but suckastic remarks, keep quiet.'

'All right, you is a big man and you go shut me up. But I want to see how all you going to full up the three other pages.'

Ganesh ignored the exchange and went on ruling columns on the inside pages. 'Page two.'

Partap sipped some Coca-Cola. 'Page two.'

'Yes,' Swami said, 'page two.'

Partap snapped his fingers. 'Advertis.e.m.e.nts!'

'A whole page advertis.e.m.e.nts on page two? You see the way inexperience people does talk?'

'Some advertis.e.m.e.nts,' Ganesh pleaded. advertis.e.m.e.nts,' Ganesh pleaded.

'Is what I did mean,' Partap said.

'Four columns on page two. Two for advertis.e.m.e.nt?'

Partap nodded.

Swami said, 'Is how I I use to do it.' use to do it.'

'What you going to put in the two columns?' The boy.

Swami turned around quickly in his chair and again it creaked dangerously. The boy was holding up Time Time before his face. before his face.

'How about a little thing by you, pundit?' Partap asked.

'Man, already I writing up a whole front page. And I ain't want my name to appear in the paper. I ain't want to bring myself down to Narayan level.'

Swami said, 'Culture, sahib. Page two is the culture page.'

Partap said, 'Yes, culture.'

There was a long silence, broken only by the boy turning over the pages of Time Time with unnecessary rustle. with unnecessary rustle.

Ganesh tapped his pencil on the table. Swami propped his hands against his chin and leaned forward on the table, pus.h.i.+ng it towards Ganesh. Partap crossed his arms and furrowed his brow.

'Coca-Cola?' Ganesh said.

Swami and Partap nodded absent-mindedly and Leela came out to do the honours. 'I have some enamel cups, you know, if that are going to make you people any happier.'

'Oh, we is all right,' Partap smiled.

'Cinema,' the boy said, behind Time Time.

'What you mean?' Swami asked eagerly.

'Film reviews,' Ganesh said.

Partap said, 'Film reviews is a first-cla.s.s idea.'

Swami was enthusiastic. 'And on that selfsame page, advertis.e.m.e.nts for films. From the Indian companies. One review for one advertis.e.m.e.nt.'

Ganesh slapped the table. 'That self.'

The boy was humming.

The three men sipped Coca-Cola with abandon. Swami laughed and chuckled till his chair creaked.

The boy said coldly, 'Page three.'

'Two more columns of advertis.e.m.e.nt there,' Ganesh said briskly.

'And a nice big advertis.e.m.e.nt on the whole of page four,' Swami added.

'True enough,' Ganesh said, 'but why for you jumping ahead so?'

Partap said, 'Only two more columns to full up.'

'Yes,' Swami said sadly, 'two more.'

The boy walked to the table and said, 'Feecher.'