Free The Householder by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala Page A

little finger up in the air, like this,’ He demonstrated, and she watched him in amazement. Suddenly she gave a very strange sound and continued quickly with her dusting. ‘What is there to laugh at?’ he said crossly.
    â€˜Mind yourself!’ cried the servant-boy, lustily swinging a wet floorcloth around Prem’s feet. Prem stepped back hastily; from outside the door he complained: ‘He is completely without respect.’
    â€˜He has to clean the room,’ Indu said.
    â€˜In my father’s house, the servant never dared to enter the room when my father was there. And when he spoke to my father, he joined his hands and said “Your Honour”. Come out here, I must speak with you.’ But when she came, he did not know what he wanted to say. She stood before him, patiently waiting, with the duster still in her hand. ‘So tell me,’ he said and cleared his throat and looked important while trying to think what she should tell him. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘tell me—you have heard from your mother again?’
    â€˜She says when my uncle is in Delhi on business next time——’
    â€˜This you have already told me. And I have told you that of course it is impossible for you to go away with your uncle.’
    She went back to her dusting without a word.
    â€˜Because my mother is coming to see us!’ he called after her into the room. She gave no indication of having heard him, and the servant-boy swished his cloth in wide sweeps.
    Prem left the house in a stern and rather assertive mood, and this was still with him by the time he reached the college. There were as usual many students clustered outside in the street; they stood together in groups or leant against the walls with their hands in their pockets and a bored and cynical expression on their faces. A girl was passing on the other side of the road. She was a short and stocky Punjabi peasant, not at all pretty, but the boys were bored enough to aim some desultory whistles at her. Prem, in his stern mood, felt instantly outraged. He swung round at one group of boys and demanded ‘Why did you whistle?’ He was not at all sure that it was they who had whistled, but he had to confront someone. ‘Have you no shame,’ he said, ‘to behave in this indecent manner?’
    Other students pressed closer to listen. The accused boys began to protest that it was not they who had whistled, but Prem would not listen to them. ‘What sort of behaviour is that,’ he said, ‘to injure and insult innocent young girls?’ He thought of Indu. If she passed, they would whistle at her.
    â€˜Come with me instantly to the Principal!’ he shouted. ‘I will see to it that the sternest disciplinary action is taken against you.’
    Still protesting their innocence, the boys accompanied him upstairs to Mr. Khanna’s living quarters. Mr. Khanna was sitting in an armchair with his feet up, reading the paper. He did not look at all pleased to see them.
    Prem was too angry to feel his usual shyness before the Principal. He burst out at once, ‘Sir, these boys were behaving in an indecent manner in the street.’
    Mr. Khanna shut his eyes in weary resignation and laid aside his newspaper.
    â€˜They were insulting a girl with whistles,’ Prem said.
    Mr. Khanna turned to the boys and said, ‘This is a very grave charge.’
    â€˜It is abominable behaviour!’ Prem cried.
    â€˜What have you to say for yourselves?’ Mr. Khanna asked the boys, but before they could reply, Prem cried: ‘I demand the severest punishment for them!’
    â€˜Sir,’ said the boys, ‘we did not do it.’
    â€˜Go to your class-rooms,’ Mr. Khanna said. ‘I will deal with you later.’ Prem glared at them furiously as they trooped out of the room. ‘It is boys like these,’ he told the Principal, ‘who ruin the good name of our