CHAPTER VI

ngeditindeed,hedidn’tchangeit,itchangeditself.Unconquerableaversionwelled.Mrs.Callendar,Mrs.Lesley—no,hecouldn’tstandtheminhissorrow:theywouldguessit—forhedoweredtheBritishmatronwithstrangeinsight—andwoulddelightintorturinghim,theywouldmockhimtotheirhusbands.Whenheshouldhavebeenready,hestoodatthePostOffice,writingatelegramtohischildren,andfoundonhisreturnthatDr.Lalhadcalledforhim,andgoneon.Well,lethimgoon,asbefittedthecoarsenessofhisnature.Forhisownpart,hewouldcommunewiththedead. Andunlockingadrawer,hetookouthiswife’sphotograph.Hegazedatit,andtearsspoutedfromhiseyes.Hethought,“HowunhappyIam!”Butbecausehereallywasunhappy,anotheremotionsoonmingledwithhisself-pity:hedesiredtorememberhiswifeandcouldnot.Whycouldherememberpeoplewhomhedidnotlove?Theywerealwayssovividtohim,whereasthemorehelookedatthisphotograph,thelesshesaw.Shehadeludedhimthus,eversincetheyhadcarriedhertohertomb.Hehadknownthatshewouldpassfromhishandsandeyes,buthadthoughtshecouldliveinhismind,notrealizingthattheveryfactthatwehavelovedthedeadincreasestheirunreality,andthatthemorepassionatelyweinvokethemthefurthertheyrecede.Apieceofbrowncardboardandthreechildren—thatwasallthatwasleftofhiswife.Itwasunbearable,andhethoughtagain,“HowunhappyIam!”andbecamehappier.HehadbreathedforaninstantthemortalairthatsurroundsOrientalsandallmen,andhedrewbackfromitwithagasp,forhewasyoung.“Never,nevershallIgetoverthis,”hetoldhimself.“Mostcertainlymycareerisafailure,andmysonswillbebadlybroughtup.”Sinceitwascertain,hestrovetoavertit,andlookedatsomenoteshehadmadeonacaseatthehospital.Perhapssomedayarichpersonmightrequirethisparticularoperation,andhegainalargesum.Thenotesinterestinghimontheirownaccount,helockedthephotographupagain.Itsmomentwasover,andhedidnotthinkabouthiswifeanymore. Afterteahisspiritsimproved,andhewentroundtoseeHamidullah.Hamidullahhadgonetotheparty,buthisponyhadnot,soAzizborrowedit,alsohisfriend’sridingbreechesandpolomallet.HerepairedtotheMaidan.Itwasdesertedexceptatitsrim,wheresomebazaaryouthsweretraining.Trainingforwhat?Theywouldhavefoundithardtosay,butthewordhadgotintotheair.Roundtheyran,weedyandknock-kneed—thelocalphysiquewaswretched—withanexpressionontheirfacesnotsomuchofdeterminationasofadeterminationtobedetermined.“Maharajah,salaam,”hecalledforajoke.Theyouthsstoppedandlaughed.Headvisedthemnottoexertthemselves.Theypromisedtheywouldnot,andranon. Ridingintothemiddle,hebegantoknocktheballabout.Hecouldnotplay,buthisponycould,andhesethimselftolearn,freefromallhumantensi