roaming the outermost
boundaries of conversational desolation, “what is… what is the best play that Shakespeare ever wrote…”
Anand stifles a snort of laughter.
“…
and
,” Mohan adds, suddenly inspired, “what are three main reasons why it—”
“But – what are you
doing
?!” Mr P interrupts.
“Mohan is crazy about Shakespeare!” Anand announces, grinning.
“Shut up you little idiot,” Devan says.
“Now now,” trills Mrs P to all her menfolk in a brittle tone, while a few aunties and uncles from both sides make a hearty chortling show of pretending not to be embarrassed.
Swami looks across at Mr P approvingly:
if this was my boy, that’s exactly what I’d say to the little idiot, if I could speak
. Then he directs a forbidding stare at Pushpa
and Leela; despite everything that has been bellowed at them, they look to be on the point of a giggling fit. It’s the boy Anand’s fault – he has charm, and a naughty streak.
“The youngsters are a little nervous, it’s only to be expected,” Amma offers.
“They should have a few moments alone,” suggests Mrs P, “get to know each other…”
“No no, not necessary,” Jodhi yelps.
“Yes yes,” Amma says, “that is very wonderful idea, and anyway I was just about to send Jodhi out for milk – Jodhi, Jodhi, please go and buy milk for more tea for our
honoured guests.”
“Oh no, no no no,” says Mrs P, “please don’t worry about tea for us, not necessary.” She rather fancies a glass. She stands up and pulls Mohan to his feet.
“We don’t want any tea, but you go with her, my son, accompany her as she goes to the shop and carry the milk back for her.”
“Yes, why not get to know each other a little,” says Mr P, also standing up, slightly angry with himself for his outburst, “but please,” he adds, “please, no need
for any more tea for us.”
“No tea,” Mrs P confirms politely. She’s gasping for it.
“Eighty-two,” Swami says, while Amma is saying, “You must have tea, you must have tea!”
“What what?” asks Mr P, puzzled.
“Eighty-two,” Kamala repeats. “Appa knows
The Sacred Couplets
– off by heart,” she admits, with a dash of pride.
The visitors gaze at the head of the household with supplementary respect; anyone who memorizes
The Sacred Couplets
is special.
“Eighty-two!” Mr P breathes, “eighty-two is it? Well let us see it, let us see couplet eighty-two! Off by heart, you say…”
“No no no,” Amma is fretting, “there is no need to have a look, it’s just his little game—” but it’s too late. Kamala already has
The Sacred
Couplets
down from the shelf and is passing it over. Amma takes the book in her hands and tries to glare at Swami in such a way as will be interpreted as a gaze of loving admiration to
everyone but him – a skill one acquires little by little, after about fifteen years of marriage. “Well then,” she says, thumbing the pages, “now then,
eighty-two…”
Mr P is highly excited by this turn of events. He loves a bit of tension. He once lost 30,000 rupees on a bet. “Off by heart, is it?” he keeps saying, “off by heart!”
Silence steals over the little living area as Amma finds the page. Jodhi, Kamala, Pushpa and Leela watch in apprehension; what if it’s another Nine Hundred and Thirteen, Pushpa is thinking
in horror? Who knows what Appa is capable of at the moment?
“Sacred couplet Eighty-Two is in section nine of Part One of
The Sacred Couplets
,” Amma recites in a quiet voice – is that the
pada-pada-pada
of her heart
that everyone can hear? She scans the lines slowly. Her face relaxes:
“It is wrong to drink even the nectar of immortality
If your honoured guests stay thirsty.”
How should this triumph be described? The guests are enraptured by their host’s erudite display of grace and hospitality. Mr P can’t stop braying like a drunken
donkey, and he’s
still
saying “Off by heart! Off by heart, is it?”;
boundaries of conversational desolation, “what is… what is the best play that Shakespeare ever wrote…”
Anand stifles a snort of laughter.
“…
and
,” Mohan adds, suddenly inspired, “what are three main reasons why it—”
“But – what are you
doing
?!” Mr P interrupts.
“Mohan is crazy about Shakespeare!” Anand announces, grinning.
“Shut up you little idiot,” Devan says.
“Now now,” trills Mrs P to all her menfolk in a brittle tone, while a few aunties and uncles from both sides make a hearty chortling show of pretending not to be embarrassed.
Swami looks across at Mr P approvingly:
if this was my boy, that’s exactly what I’d say to the little idiot, if I could speak
. Then he directs a forbidding stare at Pushpa
and Leela; despite everything that has been bellowed at them, they look to be on the point of a giggling fit. It’s the boy Anand’s fault – he has charm, and a naughty streak.
“The youngsters are a little nervous, it’s only to be expected,” Amma offers.
“They should have a few moments alone,” suggests Mrs P, “get to know each other…”
“No no, not necessary,” Jodhi yelps.
“Yes yes,” Amma says, “that is very wonderful idea, and anyway I was just about to send Jodhi out for milk – Jodhi, Jodhi, please go and buy milk for more tea for our
honoured guests.”
“Oh no, no no no,” says Mrs P, “please don’t worry about tea for us, not necessary.” She rather fancies a glass. She stands up and pulls Mohan to his feet.
“We don’t want any tea, but you go with her, my son, accompany her as she goes to the shop and carry the milk back for her.”
“Yes, why not get to know each other a little,” says Mr P, also standing up, slightly angry with himself for his outburst, “but please,” he adds, “please, no need
for any more tea for us.”
“No tea,” Mrs P confirms politely. She’s gasping for it.
“Eighty-two,” Swami says, while Amma is saying, “You must have tea, you must have tea!”
“What what?” asks Mr P, puzzled.
“Eighty-two,” Kamala repeats. “Appa knows
The Sacred Couplets
– off by heart,” she admits, with a dash of pride.
The visitors gaze at the head of the household with supplementary respect; anyone who memorizes
The Sacred Couplets
is special.
“Eighty-two!” Mr P breathes, “eighty-two is it? Well let us see it, let us see couplet eighty-two! Off by heart, you say…”
“No no no,” Amma is fretting, “there is no need to have a look, it’s just his little game—” but it’s too late. Kamala already has
The Sacred
Couplets
down from the shelf and is passing it over. Amma takes the book in her hands and tries to glare at Swami in such a way as will be interpreted as a gaze of loving admiration to
everyone but him – a skill one acquires little by little, after about fifteen years of marriage. “Well then,” she says, thumbing the pages, “now then,
eighty-two…”
Mr P is highly excited by this turn of events. He loves a bit of tension. He once lost 30,000 rupees on a bet. “Off by heart, is it?” he keeps saying, “off by heart!”
Silence steals over the little living area as Amma finds the page. Jodhi, Kamala, Pushpa and Leela watch in apprehension; what if it’s another Nine Hundred and Thirteen, Pushpa is thinking
in horror? Who knows what Appa is capable of at the moment?
“Sacred couplet Eighty-Two is in section nine of Part One of
The Sacred Couplets
,” Amma recites in a quiet voice – is that the
pada-pada-pada
of her heart
that everyone can hear? She scans the lines slowly. Her face relaxes:
“It is wrong to drink even the nectar of immortality
If your honoured guests stay thirsty.”
How should this triumph be described? The guests are enraptured by their host’s erudite display of grace and hospitality. Mr P can’t stop braying like a drunken
donkey, and he’s
still
saying “Off by heart! Off by heart, is it?”;
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