A House for Mr. Biswas - V.S. Naipaul [163]
‘Well,’ Mr Biswas said. ‘Back for a little duck?’
Owad and Shekhar smiled. Then, slowly, they all dressed.
‘I never thought the day would come when I would be glad that I was a sea scout,’ Shekhar said. ‘It was just like a hole in the sea, you know. And there was a helluva pull. By tomorrow little Anand would really have been in Venezuela.’
They found Shama anxious to know why Anand had been sent back. He had said nothing and had locked himself in his room.
Savi and Myna burst into tears when they heard.
The lunch was the climax of the week-end festivities, but Anand did not come out of his room. He ate only a slice of water melon which Savi took to him.
Later that afternoon, after Shekhar had left, Shama gave vent to her annoyance. Anand had spoiled the week-end for everybody and she was going to flog him. She was dissuaded only by Owad’s pleas.
‘My children! My children!’ Shama said. ‘Well, the example set. They just following.’
The next day Mr Biswas wrote an angry article about the lack of warning notices at Docksite. In the afternoon Anand came home from school a little more composed and, extraordinarily, without being asked, took out a copy book from his bag and handed it to Mr Biswas, who was in the hammock in the back verandah. Then Anand went to change.
The copy book contained Anand’s English compositions, which reflected the vocabulary and ideals of Anand’s teacher as well as Anand’s obsession with the stylistic device of the noun followed by a dash, an adjective and the noun again: for example, ‘the robbers – the ruthless robbers’.
The last composition was headed ‘A Day by the Seaside’. Below that the phrases supplied by the teacher had been copied down: project a visit – feverish preparations – eager anticipation – laden hampers – wind blowing through open car – spirits overflowing into song – graceful curve of coconut trees – arc of golden sand – crystalline water – pounding surf
–majestic rollers – energetically battling the waves – cries of delirious joy – grateful shade of coconut trees – glorious sunset – sad to leave – memory to be cherished in future days – looking forward in eager anticipation to paying a return visit.
Mr Biswas was familiar with the clarity and optimism of the teacher’s vision, and he expected Anand to write: ‘With anticipation – eager anticipation – we projected a visit to the seaside and we made preparations – feverish preparations – and then on the appointed morning we struggled with hampers – laden hampers – into the motorcar.’ For in these compositions Anand and his fellows knew nothing but luxury.
But in this last composition there were no clashes and repetitions; no hampers, no motorcar, no golden arcs of sand; only a walk to Docksite, a concrete sea-wall and liners in the distance. Mr Biswas read on, anxious to share the pain of the previous day. ‘I raised my hand but I did not know if it got to the top. I opened my mouth to cry for help. Water filled it. I thought I was going to die and I closed my eyes because I did not want to look at the water.’ The composition ended with a denunciation of the sea.
None of the teacher’s phrases had been used but the composition had been given twelve marks out often.
Anand had come back to the verandah and was having his tea at the table.
Mr Biswas wished to be close to him. He would have done anything to make up for the solitude of the previous day. He said, ‘Come and sit down here and go through the composition with me.’
Anand became impatient. He was pleased by the marks but was fed up with the composition and even a little ashamed of it. He had been made to read it out to the class, and the confession that he had not struggled with laden hampers into a car and driven to palm-fringed beaches but had walked to common Docksite had caused some laughter. So had the sentences: ‘I opened my mouth to cry for help. Water filled it.’
‘Come,’ Mr Biswas said, making room in