Travelers by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala

I smiled, I think, continuously. So did Gopi’s mother; it was all we could do. Sometimes a harassed expression would come over her face, and I saw she was perspiring with effort and every now and again she wiped her face with her veil. I too perspired, with effort and with heat.
    â€œThe only relief from the silence that engulfed our tea party came from the people downstairs, who seemed to be having a row. At one point they got very noisy indeed—and this rather animated our party and Gopi and his mother and sisters had a lot of uncomplimentary things to say about their neighbors. Evidently relations are strained. When the party was over and I was led away down the stairs, I was told to take no notice of them, which I didn’t though they came pouring out to have a look at me; obediently I never glanced in their direction and neither did I turn my head when one of them called after me ‘Good morning, sir,’ which Gopi said was just a characteristic piece of impudence on their part. . . .”
    Gopi Is Displeased with Raymond
    Although Gopi had made no attempt at conversation during this tea party—he had sat there and scowled, disowning all of them—afterward it was not himself he blamed for its failure but his family and his guest. He was upset for days. When he was at home, he was sulky with his family, and when he was with Raymond, he kept picking quarrels with him. He found fault with Raymond’s living arrangements and sneered at all his little decorations. He characterized him as a fussy, snobbish English sahib. The tea party was never mentioned between them, but Raymond knew it to be the cause of Gopi’s displeasure. He hadto admit that this displeasure was not entirely undeserved. It was true, he had tried hard—he had smiled, he had eaten to excess, and praised continuously—but he realized that Gopi was sensitive to the fact that inwardly he had remained withdrawn and critical.
    Lee came to see them quite often now and Gopi enjoyed her company. He made it clear that he enjoyed it more than Raymond’s. He would suggest some outing and then he would say to Raymond, “I think you don’t want to come.” Lee was surprised; she said “Oh, why not?” and Gopi would answer for him. He said, “He has been there before and he didn’t like it at all.”
    Raymond did not contradict. He suffered but acquiesced. He stayed in the flat by himself and put on records of Indian music. He had grown very fond of Indian music. It had become for him like a distillation of everything he loved in Gopi and everything he loved in India. These two were now inextricable.
    Lee and Gopi Eat Kebabs
    Gopi had taken Lee to the place where the best kebabs in town were to be obtained. He always knew the best places: there was one shop called Lahore Milk House that sold the best buttermilk; another, Mithan Lal Halwai, had the best jelabis; a third, Your Fry-Up Please, the tastiest fried fish in town. This kebab place was in the Muslim area, just opposite the big mosque. They sat at a table inside the dark interior of the shop; the man rolling and frying the kebabs sat at the front, facing the bazaar, amid cauldrons and pans sizzling on open fires. The shop was a family affair and everyone smiled in a knowing way and looked sideways at Lee. Gopi was embarrassed but also proud. Even the little hunchbacked servant boy who came to wipe the table with a filthy cloth smiled in the same way. But Lee didn’t notice anything, she was too busy eating the kebabs.
    Gopi liked seeing her eat. She made swift, neat, dipping movements into chutney and other side dishes and chewed andlicked her fingers and enjoyed just like an Indian. She could eat the hottest food, and bit into fierce green chilis with relish. Watching her, Gopi commented, “You’re not like Raymond.”
    â€œNo?” Lee said, too busy to be really listening.
    â€œNo. He couldn’t eat this food. It