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Partap said calmly, ‘You want me go and abuse Narayan now, pundit? Is the sort of thing I mad enough to do, you know.’ He suddenly became frenzied. ‘Look, all you people better hold me back before I send that thin little man to hospital, you hear. Hold me back!’

They held him back.

Narayan stopped staring across the road and walked slowly towards the landing.

Swami said, ‘You want me kick him down the steps, sahib?’

They held him back too.

Narayan glanced at them. He looked sick.

‘Leave him alone,’ Ganesh said. ‘He finish, poor man.’

The boy said, ‘He look like a wet fowl.’

They heard him going down the steps, clop by clop.

The delegates who had been eating came out to the verandah in small groups, tumbler in hand. They were remaining as calm as possible and behaved as though Ganesh and his men were not there. They washed their hands over the wall and gargled. They talked and laughed, loudly.

Ganesh’s attention was caught by a short, stout gargler at the far end of the verandah. He thought he recognized the energy with which this man was gargling and spitting into the yard; and that over-all jauntiness was definitely familiar. From time to time the gargler gave a curious little hop, and that too Ganesh recognized.

The man stopped gargling and looked around. ‘Ganesh! Ganesh Ramsumair!’

‘Indarsingh!’

He was plumper and moustached, but the weaving and bobbing, the effervescence that made him a star pupil at the Queen’s Royal College, remained. ‘Hello there, old boy.’

‘Man, you talking with a Oxford accent now, man. What happening, man?’

‘Easy, old boy. Nasty trick you’re playing against us. But you’re looking well. Demn well.’ He fingered his St Catherine’s Society tie and gave another hop.

Ganesh would have been too embarrassed to talk correctly with Indarsingh. ‘Man, I never did expecting to see you here. A big scholarship-winner like you, man.’

‘Catching hell with law, old boy. Thinking of politics. Starting small. Talking.’

‘Yes, man. Indarsingh was the champion debater at college.’

Swami and the others stood by, gaping. Ganesh said, ‘I ask the pack of all of you to stand guard over me? Where Narayan?’

‘He sitting down quiet quiet downstairs wiping he face with a dirty handkerchief.’

‘Well, go and watch him. Don’t let him start up anything funny.’

The men and the boy left.

Indarsingh took no notice of the interruption. ‘Talking to peasants now. Different thing altogether, old boy. Not like talking to the Lit. Soc. or the Oxford Union.’

Oxford Union.’

‘For years, old boy. Term in. Term out. Indarsingh. Three times nominated for Library Committee. Didn’t get in. Prejudice. Disgusted.’ Indarsingh’s face saddened for a moment.

‘What make you give up law so easy, man?’

‘Talking to peasants,’ Indarsingh repeated. ‘An art, old boy.’

‘Oh, it ain’t so hard.’

Indarsingh paid no attention. ‘Past few months been talking to all sorts of people. Getting practice. Bicycle clubs, football clubs, cricket clubs. No ten-minute things, old boy. Give them something different. One day, at cricket elections, talked for so long gas-lamp went out.’ He looked earnestly at Ganesh. ‘Know what happened?’

‘You light back the lamp?’

‘Wrong, old boy. Went on talking. In the dark.’

The boy ran up the steps. ‘The meeting starting to start, sahib.’

Ganesh hadn’t noticed that the garglers had left the verandah.

‘Ganesh, going to fight you, old boy. Don’t like tricks. Going to break you by talk, old boy.’ He gave a little hop.

They started down the steps. ‘Story to tell, old boy. About talking practice. Man called Ganga supported some fool for County Council elections. I supported other man. My man won. A close thing. Ganga starts row. Big row. Clamouring for recount. Talked fifteen minutes against recount. Ah, meeting starting. Lots of delegates here today, what?’

‘What happen?’

‘Oh, recount. My man lost.’

The room was crowded. There were not enough benches and many delegates had to stand up against the lattice-work. The confusion was increased by the number of wooden pillars sprouting up in odd places.

‘No room, old boy. Didn’t bargain for so many of us, what? Not going to sit with you, though. Going to squeeze in somewhere in front. No tricks, remember.’

The delegates fanned themselves with The Dharma.

Perhaps, if The Dharma had not made him so ludicrous and the thirty-thousand-dollar grant so vulnerable, Narayan would have fought back. But he was taken so completely by surprise and knew the weakness of his own position so well, everything went smoothly for Ganesh.

But there were moments when Ganesh was worried.

When Narayan, for example, sitting as President at the table draped with the saffron, white, and green Indian tricolour, asked how Mr Partap, who, he knew, worked in Port of Spain and lived in San Fernando, could represent Cunaripo, which was miles away from either place.

Ganesh at once jumped to his feet and said that Mr Partap, it was true, was an esteemed member of the Parcel Post Service in Port of Spain and belonged to an honourable family in San Fernando; but he also, no doubt for merit in some past life, owned land in Cunaripo.

Narayan looked sick. He said drily, ‘Oh, well. I suppose I represent Port of Spain although I work in Sangre Grande, only fifty miles away.’

There was general laughter. Everyone knew that Narayan lived and worked in Port of Spain.

Then Indarsingh began to make trouble. In a speech lasting almost ten minutes he wondered, in impeccable English, whether all the branches present had paid their subscriptions.

The Chief Treasurer, sitting next to Narayan, opened a blue exercise-book with a picture of King George VI on the cover. He said that many branches, particularly the new ones, hadn’t paid; but he was sure they soon would.

Indarsingh shouted, ‘Unconstitutional!’

There was silence.

He seemed to have expected a howl of protest, and the silence caught him unprepared. He said, ‘Oh, I say, what?’ and sat down.

Narayan twisted his thin lips. ‘It is a little curious, however. Let me consult the constitution!’

Swami bellowed from the back, ‘Narayan, you ain’t going to consult no constitution!’

Narayan looked miserable and pushed the booklet aside.

‘A man like you, robbing money that people scratch and scrape and save. Wanting to consult constitution!’

Ganesh stood up. ‘Mr President, sir, I call on Dr Swami to withdraw those unkind remarks.’

The meeting took up the cry. ‘Withdraw! Withdraw!’

‘All right, I withdraw. Eh, who saying, “Shut up”? He want to taste my hand.’ Swami looked menacingly around. ‘Look, I want to make we position plain. We ain’t here to fight anybody. We just want to see Hindus unite and we want to get the grant for everybody, not for one man.’

Narayan looked sicker than ever.

There was laughter, not only from Ganesh’s supporters.

Ganesh whispered to the boy, ‘How you didn’t remind me about the subscriptions, man?’

The boy said, ‘It ain’t for you, a big man, to talk to me so.’

Indarsingh was up again. ‘Mr President, this is a democratic body, and in no other body — and I have travelled — have I heard of members who haven’t paid subscriptions being allowed to vote. In fact, it is my considered opinion that, by and large —’

Narayan said, ‘Is this a motion?’