Free The Cat and Shakespeare by Raja Rao Page A

going on? The first to come would of course be Govindan Nair, his underclothes showing (it was always too hot for him) and a pen in his hand. He had a long nose, pointed and expressive, and when he turned anywhere, it was as if he could speak with his nose. He looked at the children and laughed. Then, going to the scale, he pushed the needle to the middle and said: ‘Everything in the world weighs the same. Look, look!’ And the women looked up and saw and said: ‘Of course, look, everybody weighs the same. How did he do it?’ The children lost some fun. But when he let go, he did so with a bump, and the younger child went up shouting: ‘Father! Father!’ Then he caught hold of one of the children of the crowd and set it against the uplifted child. The scale went down with a thud. The elder child, called Gopi, cried. ‘Gopi, Gopi,’ said Govindan Nair, ‘you can’t always be at the top. Even Hitler some time has to come down. Now, children, you go home to grandpapa. When you come next time I’ll build you a swing in the garden. And I will sit with you under the casuarina tree. And we shall see the sky.’ Meanwhile, half of the ration office staff—except, of course, the boss, Bhoothalinga Iyer (he lived in the fort near the temple, an honest, disgruntled man with a hair knot on his head,
namam
10 on his face, and a Ramayana on his lap; so he sat, looking after the ration office)—would come down.
    There are very few interesting faces in the ration office. Abraham is a Syrian Christian from Nagercoil, and he looks the very image of Christ with his flat face and longish beard. He hurts no one, he earns enough for his childless wife and himself, and he smokes incessantly. Sometimes he talks poetry to Govindan Nair, especially of Eletchan, 11 and they compare notes on Malayalam words. When everything is over, Govindan Nair will say: ‘Man, how can you know Malayalam? You have to be a Nair.’ Abraham accepted this as an axiom. Only a Nair can know Malayalam. Only a Nair can belong to Malabar. Only a Nair can see right. Look at the boss, Bhoothalinga Iyer. He can no more understand truth than the buffalo can see a straight line.
    Velayudhan Nair is the opposite number of Govindan Nair. He is tall and fair and shouts at the top of his voice that his father was a Brahmin. That does not make him equal either to Bhoothalinga Iyer or to Govindan Nair. He is one with one and other with the other. He manipulates ration cards with a facility that makes everybody wonder whether he learned street jugglery.
    There was the famous case of Ration Card No. 65477919, which just disappeared from the office. The register marked the name Appan Pillai, of Medi Vithu, Palayam. The thumb impression of Appan Pillai was there. His people said they have been getting the right rations, but when asked about the card, they said they never received it. Inquiries brought forward four or five such cases. Govindan Nair just joked. He knew A from B as he knew left eye from right eye. He knew just enough about the matter to show Velayudhan Nair he knew. So Velayudhan Nair smiled at him and thought his colleague too would know what was to be known and perform what was to be performed. After all, sir, it is wartime and everybody has children. Two is the limit—but then if you have three—on forty-seven rupees, how can you feed a third child? Especially if it has a bit of difficulty in the spleen? Three years old and she has the belly of one of eight. Spleen may be just a pouch on the left side of man but it gives infinite trouble. It makes the child bloat and cry. What can you do with a child’s cry? Doctors are expensive—even government doctors. They don’t take fees, but they like gifts. What is the gift for a good-sized spleen? Thirty rupees, etc., etc.
    Velayudhan Nair’s wife, when you see her at a cinema, has an array of gold bangles on her hands. She inherited some money from her aunt. We all have aunts; why don’t we inherit? is a