Ma will have told you about my health. If I were not myself I would be amused by my own symptoms, which range from yawning to spells of dizziness to hot spots on the soles of my feet. These hot spots are particularly puzzling. Your mother swears by some Doctor Nuruddin in Calcutta, but he sounds like a quack. And anyway, I can’t travel. Why don’t you visit me after Kanpur and we’ll play Monopoly, just as we used to as children? It has been so long since I last saw you. My love to you and to Ma. Do pay some attention to her advice; I think that you are very lucky to be her daughter. Please report to me the moment you have something to report. Lying in bed all I can listen to is this painful classical music on the radio, which I know you don’t think is painful, and the gup-shup of empty-headed friends. A visit from you would do me good. .
Something in the tone of the letter made Lata think of the time at Sophia Convent when, as a schoolgirl, overcome by a sudden impulse, a strange, trance-like state, she had wanted to become a Christian and a nun. She had wanted to convert immediately and Arun had been summoned to Mussourie to talk some sense into her head. He had promptly declared that it was all ‘summer moonshine’. It was the first time that Lata had heard the phrase. Though she had been struck by it, she had refused to believe that these religious impulses were moonshine of any kind. She had been determined to go ahead with her resolve. It was in fact a nun at Sophia Convent who had finally sat her down on a bench and talked to her — a green bench some distance away from the school buildings. It had had a view of a slope covered with a well-kept lawn and beautiful flowers; at the foot of the slope was a cemetery in which nuns of the order, many of whom had taught at the school, lay buried. She had said: ‘Give yourself a few months, Lata. Wait at least till you leave school. You can always decide a little later. Don’t make an immediate commitment. Remember, it will be very hard on your mother, who is a young widow.’
Lata sat on the bed for a while with Kalpana’s letter in her hand, trying to avoid looking at her mother’s face. Mrs Rupa Mehra arranged her saris in a drawer, deliberately silent. After a minute Lata said:
‘All right, Ma. I’ll see him.’ She did not say anything further. She was angry still, but saw no point in expressing it. When some of the lines of anxiety on her mother’s forehead relaxed, she was glad she had left it at that.
9.7
For some time now, Haresh had kept a diary of sorts. These days he usually wrote it at night at a heavy writing desk in the rooms he rented at Elm Villa. He was browsing through it, glancing from time to time at the photograph standing in a silver frame on his desk.
Brahmpur
Lasting here is good, as is the general standard of workmanship. Am having pair of brogues done in Ravidaspur on design of shoes I had brought for Sunil. If my idea works, Brahmpur could become a good source of finished footwear. But quality is the key. Unless an infrastructure of good labour is built up the trade will not advance.
Purchasing of micro-sheets is not a problem: over-supply because of strike. Kedarnath Tandon took me around the market (troubles with labour and suppliers at the moment over local demands) and had lunch with his family. Bhaskar his son is very bright, and his wife is an attractive lady. Veena I think.
Praha people are very difficult to talk to, and are not impressed with my qualifications. The problem, as always, is one of ingress. If I can talk to the top, there is a possibility, otherwise none. They have not even answered my letters seriously.
Sunil in fine form as usual.
Letter to Baoji, Simran, M. and Mme. Poudevigne
Cawnpore
Hot days, and working in the factory is hard. At least in the evening I can rest under the fan at Elm Villa.
I think of Simran all the time, but I know there is little hope. Now her mother has threatened to commit suicide if she marries someone outside her faith. It may be human nature, but I do not want to be at the receiving end of human nature. It is even harder for Simran. No doubt they are trying to get her married off to someone suitable, poor girl.
At work, as usual, supplies are holding things up. I am too short-tempered and impatient. Had row with Rao from the other department. He is a good for nothing man who only knows how to play labour off against each other. He has favourites and is unobjective, and it is to the detriment of the whole organisation. Sometimes he simply takes away one or two people who I need, and then I am short-staffed. Thin lean fellow like Uriah, with a sharp nose. Elsewhere they believe in ‘Grow and make the business grow’. In India we believe that the way to rise is to do someone else down.
Today the problem I faced was not nails or soles or stitching thread but sheepskin again. There were quite a few uppers cut which needed lining, also the recent order required sheepskin. After setting the men to work I took Rs. 600/- in suspense a/c and went to the market myself. Buying material is always a training in itself. Maybe I should treat my experience at CLFC as a paid apprenticeship. I felt tired after the day’s work. Came home, read a few pages of The Mayor of Casterbridge and slept early. No letters.
Watch strap Rs. 12/- (Crocodile skin)
Cawnpore
Very interesting day.
Reached factory in time. It rained. Went about work as usual, there seems no system in the work, one person has to handle so many things.
Saw a shop in market run by a Chinaman, Lee. He has a small shop, I saw a few shoes with striking designs, so entered on impulse, and talked to him. He speaks English and also Hindi in a strange way. Makes shoes himself. I asked him who designed them, and he said he designed them himself as well. I was impressed. His technology of designing is not scientific, but he has a fairly good grasp of proportions and colour-schemes, even though I am colour-blind I could see that. The toe and tongue not lopsided, the type of sole and heel in balance, the total visual impact good. By seeing the quantity of business he did and through the conversation I found out without making him nervous how much he would be likely to make after rent and material and other costs. Lee cannot make much because Praha, Cooper Allen etc. flood the market with cheap shoes of a certain quality and Cawnpore is not a discriminating place for specially designed shoes. I think I could improve his prospects and also help my new department if I could convince Mukherji to take him on for Rs. 250 a month. Of course he will have to speak to Ghosh in Bombay, and that is the rub. If I were in business for myself I would take him on immediately. He would surely not be averse to have a designer’s job without all the other troubles he must have.
Got ticket for Delhi and will be leaving tomorrow. A private party is thinking of hiring me, so I should be well prepared. And CLFC wants to get into the Delhi market also. They should first set their own house in order.
Too sleepy to write more.
Delhi
Mukherji agrees about Lee, now it is up to Ghosh.
Was tired, so rested on the train, even though it was a day journey. Freshened up in waiting room, then went to Kalpana. Had a good talk about the old times. She is not well, and has had a sad life, but cheers up everyone around her. Did not talk about S though it was on both our minds. Met her father and her good-looking aunt Mrs Mehra.
Baoji still set upon his farming plans. I tried to dissuade him because he has no experience. But once he decides on something, his mind is difficult to change. I was glad to avoid meeting Umesh Uncle.
Cawnpore