Free The Moneylenders of Shahpur by Helen Forrester Page A

cigarette from the little wooden box which lay on his desk, and it was accepted eagerly. He struck a match for his guest, and watched him puff like a steam engine until he was wreathed in a cloud of smoke.
    Since Tilak did not seem to be able to get started, John eventually asked, ‘Well, how are things?’
    ‘Things are very well, thank you,’ said Tilak, grinding his teeth, ‘except that it seems that I am not to do the work which I came here to do.’
    ‘Really?’ exclaimed John, rather puzzled by the intensity of rage in Tilak’s voice.
    Tilak scowled, his fine face distorted with anger, and ground the end of his much abused cigarette into an ashtray.
    ‘These fools! These lunatics,’ he muttered. ‘These religious maniacs!’
    John surveyed the bent and shaking shoulders. He was almost afraid of such intensity of rage – it appeared unnecessary and unseemly to him. But when Tilak buried his face in his hands, and muttered that he might as well be dead as in Shahpur, John got up and went to sit beside him, not even noticing that he had managed several steps without the aid of his stick. He put a kindly hand on Tilak’s shoulder.
    The friendly gesture calmed Tilak. He began to speak more coherently.
    ‘After weeks of dealing with new students,’ he said, ‘preparing lectures, attending endless tea parties, fighting for the supply of a few magazines – at last, I tell you – at last it seemed that I might have a few hours for my own research; I’m doing some work on the gills of fish. So, off I went to the Muslim fish bazaar, and arranged for a small supply of the particular fish I wanted – you’ll know that fish are shipped up here from Bombay in salt-water tanks, live.’
    ‘Well?’
    ‘Well,’ responded Tilak. ‘I took some fish back to my laboratory. They were dead but fresh, so I began work. I had three fish on a slab beside me, ready to put into formaldehyde, and one dissected. Then there was a knock at the door and the Dean came in.
    ‘“Ah, good day, Dr Tilak,” he greeted me, all charm.’
    ‘He is a very pleasant man,’ said John, a little on the defensive immediately.
    Tilak snorted.
    ‘Humph,’ he said. ‘He came close to the table and peered at what I was doing.
    ‘“Whatever is this?” he quavered.
    ‘“A fish,” I said. “In fact, altogether four fishes.”
    ‘He went quite white and looked at me horror-stricken.
    ‘“But, my dear sir, we cannot have this kind of thing in our University,” he said.
    ‘I didn’t know what to say. I was not quite sure what part of my operations was disturbing him. He looked very shaken.
    ‘“This is a Jain community, Dr Tilak, a Jain seat of learning. We cannot have life taken haphazardly right on our campus.”
    ‘I was so dismayed that I could only say stupidly, “They were dead by the time I got them here.”
    ‘He made a great effort to control himself, “I know that the sciences must be taught, but surely it can be done without taking life? Do you make a habit of this?”
    ‘“I dissected a frog this morning for Zoology I,” I said. Whereupon he was immediately violently sick all over my fish.’
    John suppressed a desire to burst out laughing.
    ‘What did you do?’ he asked.
    ‘I assisted him outside, and sent a servant across to his bungalow to get him clean garments. Anasuyabehn brought them herself. He did not address me further, and refused my help while changing in my office.
    ‘After he was cleaned up, he went home, leaning on Anasuyabehn, while I walked behind him carrying his briefcase and the bundle of dirty clothes. I felt a complete fool.’
    He got up and walked with three swift strides to the end of the room, turned and, with eloquent gestures of his hands, went on, ‘When we got to the gate of his compound, he turned round and said, “I’ll see the Vice-Chancellor tomorrow. In the meantime, please arrange to use only diagrams during your lectures.”’
    ‘What did you reply to that?’ asked