Free The Householder by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala Page B

college.’
    â€˜You are sure it was they who whistled?’
    â€˜Quite sure, sir,’ Prem replied with confidence. He really was quite sure now. Anger had swept aside all hesitation.
    â€˜And they whistled only? Nothing else?’
    â€˜A disgrace to the college! An example must be made of them!’
    â€˜I am glad you reported the matter to me,’ Mr. Khanna said, taking up his newspaper again and trying to locate the paragraph he had been reading.
    â€˜It was my duty to do so, sir. We have wives, sisters, daughters—how can we protect their honour if we fail to uproot evil and shamelessness from among us?’ He felt virtuous and grown up. He was a family man, upholding the sanctity of the family against the assaults of immorality. For a moment it struck him that here was an opportunity to appeal for a rise in salary. He could point out to Mr. Khanna that a man with a family to support and protect, such as he was, needed more than 175 rupees a month on which to do so. But he felt it would not be consonant with his present high moral stand to introduce any personal note. ‘It pains me to see that there are such elements in the college,’ he said, assuming a pained expression.
    A bell rang downstairs in the college. Mr. Khanna lowered his paper and said with a pleased look on his face, ‘I think there is the bell for your lesson.’
    Prem was satisfied with himself for the rest of the morning. He felt he had acted like a responsible teacher, with moral fervour and stern solicitude for those in his charge. His father himself, he thought, could not have behaved better. During their breaktime he gave a lecture on discipline to Sohan Lal. ‘We must be like severe though loving fathers to our students,’ he told him. Mr. Chaddha, overhearing Prem’s remark, took interest and pleasure in the subject and contributed a few forceful opinions of his own to which Prem listened with his head held to one side and nodding it from time to time in pleased agreement. Sohan Lal seemed rather embarrassed, but neither Mr. Chaddha nor Prem took any notice of him.
    So when Prem went home for his lunch, he was in a sterner mood than ever. He saw no reason why, now that he was a success as a teacher, he should not be a success as a husband too. He would have been quite pleased if his food had been slightly delayed, but Indu was very prompt with it. He cleared his throat and looked authoritative as he sat down on the floor in front of his brass tray. She kept bringing him more hot chapattis. Everything was going very nicely and he enjoyed his meal. Maybe he was a successful husband already. Even her cooking, it seemed to him, had improved—or was it just that he was getting used to it? When he had finished, he asked her to prepare a betel-leaf. She was very good, he had to admit, at preparing betel-leaves.
    But when he went into the bedroom, he saw that she had taken out her suitcase. It was lying on the bed with the lid open. He called her and pointed at it: ‘What is this?’ he demanded.
    She whipped it quickly off the bed and shut it. ‘I have put it out for airing,’ she said.
    â€˜You are intending to go on a journey?’
    â€˜Only if my uncle comes.…’
    Prem swallowed hard. He felt it to be right that he should be angry, but he wanted it to be a controlled anger. So he said in a quiet though forceful voice, ‘I have forbidden you.’
    But suddenly it was Indu who was angry and her anger was not at all controlled. ‘Who are you to forbid?’ she shouted.
    This took him aback considerably. The answer to her question seemed to him so very obvious that he could not understand how she came to ask it. But before he could point that out to her, she was shouting some more. ‘Now we have come to the limit! Now he forbids!’ She gave a sound of contempt. ‘He forbids me!’ she snorted and stamped her foot. The servant-boy came running