An Astrologers Day and Other Stories Part 12

Will you sing the piece you sang in your school the other day, and dance ?

No, said Kutti. Ive forgotten it. The elderly man fumbled in his pocket and brought out another piece of chocolate.

And now baby, give us that song and you can have this. Kutti looked at her father.

Go on, sing, he said, which meant to her by implication

Yes, you may accept the chocolate.

Her mothers voice said from an inner room : Go on, Kutti, be a good girl. And Kutti opened her mouth and her shrill voice sang an invitation to Lord Krishna. Her eyes danced as if they beheld Krishna before them ; her arms beckoned him, and her feet were tremulous ; with every muscle in her body she enriched the song. She was a born dancer, a born actress. She could conjure up with her voice, expression, and movement, a vision for others. For a moment that humble room, with its ricketty chairs, and fading prints of G.o.ds in frames, and dusty floor, acquired the atmosphere of a fairy-land for the G.o.ds to come and go : Krishna, an enchanting baby, toddled up and revealed the universe in his mouth when his mother looked in to see ifhe had put anything in his mouth ; and then when grown up, the leader of a gang of disreputable youngsters keeping the neighbourhood in tantrums ; and then the divine lover wringing the heart ofgopis and he vanished abruptly, the fairy hall vanished, and the fading prints in frames, and the ricketty chairs came into view again when Kuttis voice ceased. She took breath and looked around at her audience. The smart man sprang forward, took her in his arms, kissed her, hugged her and would not put her down THE PERFORMING CHILD 79.

He said to his companion :

This is a marvellous child, just the kid for the picture. I shall refuse to go on with your picture unless you take in this kid, understand ?

Certainly, certainly.

We are going now, and coming back at about four in the afternoon, and if you dont mind I would like to take the kid to the studio and test her before a camera and mike.

As they were leaving, the elderly man said to Kuttis father : We like your child very much. I hope she will be famous very soon. If you are free, I would like to have a word with you in the evening.

The whole day the husband and wife could think and talk of nothing but their child. Existence had acquired a sudden smoothness and richness.

I suppose this is how the rich people feel, said Kuttis father.

No mortgages, no debts, money for everything.

See here, my girl, I may even throw up this dirty work and do something else. After this picture the baby will be in demand everywhere. I will buy a house for her in the extension.

Dont fail to give her the engine she is asking for, and the doll the bald doll. A girl has one in her school and Kutti has been crying for it night and day.

It seems that it costs about six rupees.

Let it cost sixty rupees. Why should we care ?

The child can have it.

Kutti was dressed and ready at three oclock. Her mother had taken care to leave her hair free ; and put her into a frock. Kutti was furious.

I hate this frock, mother ; why do you put me into this dirty frock ?

She said tugging her hair :

I want to 8o THE PERFORMING CHILD have this tied up. You understand ? I dont care, I dont care. Her mother calmed her, and she went out to play in the backyard.

Take care that you dont make yourself dirty, said her mother.

At four oclock when the film people arrived Kuttis father went to the backyard to fetch her. She was not to be seen. He asked his wife : Where is Kutti ?

She was in the backyard. She may be in the next house. I will see. She returned a few minutes later.

She is not in that house, nor in the next one.

Where could she have gone ?

The smart man waited for fifteen minutes and then said : We will be in the studio. As soon as you find the child, will you bring her over ?

Yes, said Kuttis father.

Then began a search for Kutti. Her mother wandered up and down the street ; her father went to her school. An hour later they became desperate.

They had looked into every corner of the house, called Kutti, Kutti, a score of times and had gone and enquired in every possible place. Mother became hysterical, threw herself on the floor and began to cry ; father stood in the doorway completely beaten by the mystery. His wifes despair affected him. He himself wondered if anybody had kidnapped the child.

Such things were common. People were known to give drugged sweets to children and carry them away.

He told his wife,

Ill be back in a moment, and went out to have a talk with his friends in the police station. Long after he was gone, his wife after a spasm ofweeping got up. She looked again into every corner of every room. At last she noticed a slight stirring in a linen basket kept in an ante-room. She opened the lid and looked in. Kutti was curled up THE PERFORMING CHILD 81 at its dark bottom with her unbraided hair covering her face.

Kutti ! Kutti !

the mother screamed, and rocked the basket. The child didnt stir. The mother dived into it and brought out the child. She carried her in her arms and ran out of the house, down the street.

My child is dead, take me to a doctor, she wailed. Someone took pity on her, and put her into a jutka and took her to the hospital. The doctor felt her pulse and heart, and said, She has only swooned ; youve not been a minute too soon ; dont get excited. She will be all right. He laid the child on a table. In an hour Kutti sat up and locked her arms around her mothers neck. Mother cried with joy ; and took her in her arms. On the Way home mother asked : What made you get into the basket, child ?

Kutti paused for a while, and asked with puckered brow : Are those people gone ?

Who ?

The cinema men.

Yes.

Mother, if they ever come to our house again, I will get into the basket once more and never come out of it.

Mother hugged her close and said, Dont fear. I will see that they dont trouble you ever any more.

11.

ISWARAN.

WHENthe whole of the student world in Malgudi was convulsed with excitement, on a certain evening in June when the Intermediate Examination results were being expected, Iswaran went about his business, looking very unconcerned and detached.

He had earned the reputation of having aged in the Intermediate Cla.s.s. He entered the Intermediate Cla.s.s in Albert Mission College as a youngster, with faint down on his upper lip. Now he was still there, his figure had grown brawny and athletic, and his chin had become tanned and leathery. Some people even said that you could see grey hairs on his head.

The first time when he failed, his parents sympathized with him, the second time also he managed to get their sympathies, and subsequently they grew more critical and unsparing, and after repeated failures they lost all interest in his examination. He was often told by his parents, Why dont you discontinue your studies, and try to do something useful ?

He always pleaded, Let me have this one last chance/ He clung to university education with a ferocious devotion.

And now the whole town was agog with the expectation of the results in the evening. Boys moved about the street in groups ; and on the sands of 8*

ISWARAN 83.

Sarayu they sat in cl.u.s.ters, nervously smiling and biting their finger nails. Others hung about the gates of the senate hall staring anxiously at the walls behind which a meeting was going on.

As much as the boys, if not more, the parents were agitated, except Iswarans, who, when they heard their neighbours discussing their sons possible future results, remarked with a sigh : No such worry for Iswaran. His results are famous and known to everyone in advance. Iswaran said facetiously, I.

have, perhaps, pa.s.sed this time, father, who knows ?

I did study quite hard.

You are the greatest optimist in India at the moment ; but for this obstinate hope you would never have appeared for the same examination every year.

I failed only in Logic, very narrowly, last year, he defended himself. At which the whole family laughed.

In any case, why dont you go and wait along with the other boys, and look up your results ?

his mother asked.

Not at all necessary, Iswaran replied.

If I pa.s.s they will bring home the news. Do you think I saw my results last year ?

I spent my time in a cinema. I sat through two shows consecutively.

He hummed as he went in for a wash before dressing to go out. He combed his hair with deliberate care, the more so because he knew everybody looked on him as a sort of an outcast for failing so often. He knew that behind him the whole family and the town were laughing. He felt that they remarked among themselves that was.h.i.+ng, combing his hair, and putting on a well-ironed coat, were luxuries too far above his state. He was a failure and had no right to such 84 ISWARAN luxuries. He was treated as a sort of thick-skinned idiot. But he did not care. He answered their att.i.tude by behaving like a desperado. He swung his arms, strode up and down, bragged and shouted, and went to a cinema. But all this was only a mask.

Under it was a creature hopelessly seared by failure, desperately longing and praying for success. On the day of the results he was, inwardly, in a trembling suspense.

Mother, he said as he went out,

dont expect me for dinner tonight. I will eat something in a hotel and sit through both the shows at the Palace Talkies.

Emerging from Vinayak Street, he saw a group of boys moving up the Market Road towards the College.

Someone asked :