The Householder Read Free

his hands together in deferential greeting, but she only gave him a sideways and impatient look. She did not care for members of her husband’s staff to come into her living-room, and always made this clear when any of them did. She was a short plump woman who wore, even in the house, a lot of gold ornaments and brightly flowered clothes. She looked as opulent and upholstered as her sitting-room, and consequently inspired Prem with the same feeling of shyness.
    â€˜You can give me another cup of tea,’ Mr. Khanna told her.
    â€˜Sir,’ Prem found himself saying in a croaking voice, ‘Mr. Sohan Lal is so poor that he cannot even afford to give Mrs. Khanna her two rupees eight annas a month for tea.’ He saw the look of astonishment on both Mr. and Mrs. Khanna’s faces; Mrs. Khanna was staring at him with round eyes, holding the plump teapot with the English cottage on it poised in the air. Prem was astonished himself; he did not know why he was saying so much about Sohan Lal.
    Mrs. Khanna turned to her husband and said, ‘What is he saying?’
    â€˜Pour the tea,’ he told her.
    â€˜Perhaps he is suggesting I make a profit on the money I have to charge for their tea?’ Prem was startled by her hostile, even threatening tone. He hung his head and twisted his hands behind his back. He was very much tempted to answer her: they had worked it out long ago and knew that she made a handsome profit on their tea. But if he told her so, she would be very angry with him, and Mr. Khanna too would be angry.
    â€˜Finest Darjeeling tea I serve to them!’ she shouted. ‘At what loss to myself every month God only knows!’
    Prem looked down at the rug on which he was standing and counted the number of petals to each flower. Why seven, he thought; which flower has seven petals?
    â€˜Like a servant I wait on them,’ she said; her gold earrings were shaking with indignation.
    â€˜It is all right,’ Mr. Khanna said. ‘Go now.’
    â€˜In what other college,’ she demanded from outside the door, ‘does the Principal’s wife make a slave of herself for her husband’s employees?’
    After she had gone, there was a short silence between Prem and Mr. Khanna, during which they heard her shouting with the same indignation and probably on the same topic in some other room. Mr. Khanna said, ‘If Mr. Sohan Lal wishes to speak with me, perhaps it would be better for him to come himself.’
    â€˜No, sir,’ Prem said, ‘Mr. Sohan Lal does not wish to speak with you.’ But then he realized that perhaps this was not true; perhaps Sohan Lal did wish to speak to the Principal about something, who knew? Prem felt that the situation was getting rather complicated and that meanwhile he was getting farther and farther away from asking what he had come to ask. He decided to leave aside Sohan Lal and speak out boldly. ‘Sir,’ he began.
    â€˜I think your students must be waiting for you in class,’ Mr. Khanna said; he finished his tea, wiped his mouth and stood up. Mrs. Khanna could still be heard shouting.
    â€˜Sir,’ said Prem, ‘you are yourself a father.’
    â€˜It is ten-fifteen.’
    â€˜So much?’ Prem cried. His students would be waiting. They would be sitting in class making a noise and perhaps Mr. Chaddha would pass remarks at them which might disgrace Prem. He begged permission to leave and hurried away. Half-way down the stairs it struck him that he had not asked after all. He hesitated, wondering for a moment whether to go back. But he could not keep his students waiting any longer.
    Afterwards he felt very unhappy. He had failed, after all his good resolutions. And what was there so difficult about asking for a rise in salary? It was a very natural thing—everybody, at some time in their life, needed a rise in salary. He should have asked straight out, stood up as a responsible citizen, as a husband