CHAPTER 6
“Cartwright!” The Collector called out form his buggy.
“Sir!”
“Ready yet”
“Yes sir”
“Well, let’s go then. We also have a meeting of the club committee today, where we are going to discuss a rather ticklish matter.” Cartwright got into the open carriage and they set off at a brisk trot down the open road that ran parallel to the river for most of its way.
“How was the College function?”
“It wasn’t so bad. Rather interesting in fact. Bradely obviously takes pains over his students.”
“Oh yes,he is a good fellow. I am told it was a debate on the pros and cons of English education.”
“Yes and I found the students had quite a few sensible things to say about the matter.”
“Really, Indians tend to be longwinded when they get a public platform. I was worried that you might be bored stiff by the time the function ended. I am glad you find the proceedings interesting. Who was the best speaker?”
“A girl.Or rather a young lady. She made a spirited speech in favour of English education.
“Really. Who was she I wonder.”
“Well, she was a good looking girl with flashing eyes and long black hair. And the funny thing was…..”
“Yes?”
“Well, somehow, she made all the men appear insignificant. There was something about her.”
The Collector looked at Cartwright with a smile, “Ah, now I know whom youmean. The young lady is our Tehsildar’s neice. She is Bradely’s star pupil and her uncle is very proud of her, I am glad your fancy does not run to blue eyes and blond hair only.”
“No. To tell you the truth, I find dark eyes rather attractive.”
Their conversation ended on this note because they had arrived at the club. The Hoshangabad club was housed in a small bungalow with the usual tiled roof and verandas. It stood on one side of a large compound, the rest of which was taken up by tennis courts. Behind the club were outhouses for the caretaker, tennis and billiards markers and other servants, and a small kitchen that stood a little apart from the main building. In from was a small garden with a flourishing growth of marigold and hollyhocks. It looked quite cosy, thought Cartwright, not grand or forbidding like other colonial buildings. Their arrival had been noticed from afar and two uniformed bearers stood waiting at the gabled porch to greet them. Also present in the porch was Cooper, the Divisional Forest Officer and the club secretary.
“Good Evening sir,”
“Evening Cooper. I have brought Cartwright along.”
“My dear chap, so glad to see you. The grapevine has been abuzz ever since your arrival.”
“Really, what about.”
“Oh, about this and that. But you will see.”
They were led, ceremoniously, thought Cartwright, to a room at the end of the veranda, which served as the club office, where a meeting seemed to be in progress. Everyone stood up at the Collector’s approach and greetings were exchanged, again with a touch of formality thought Cartwright, that smacked something of court ceremonial. The other members of the committee were Macgregor the Superintendent of Police, and Maitland the District and Sessions judge. These two, as it happened, were also the most important officials in the district after the Collector. A chair had been placed to the Collector’s right for Cartwright, who though not yet a member of the committee, was entitled to some deference as the Collector’s deputy.
Clearing his throat officiously, Cooper began the proceedings. “The first item on the agenda is the approval of the minutes of the last meeting. Shall I read them out.”
“No need to do that, my dear chap. Let us take them as read and approved,” said the District Judge, who as a member of the judiciary was outside the Collector’s orbit and could take an independent stance if he chose.
“Approved.”Said the others in a chorus.
“The second item is about a rise in the salary of the billiards marker by four rupees a month.”
“No problem there, the club can afford a slight increase in expense. Shafi Mohammed has been with the club for the last thirty years, as was his father before him. I think we can approve this,” said the Collector.
Cooper again cleared his throat and looked at the members sitting round the table, “The third item on the agenda is an application for membership of the club by one My Pratap Chaturvedi.” Having fired off his salvo Cooper looked around the table with a speculative look on his face.
“Damned cheek. Doesn’t he know that natives are not allowed to be members of the club,” said Macgregor gruffly. He was a sandy-haired man with toothbrush moustache and a thick neck.
“It isn’t quite so simple as that Tom,” said the Collector. “After the incidents in Punjab, the Government of India wants us to extend the olive branch. They want that our good intentions should be visible, not merely in principal, but also in practice, those are the words of the latest official memorandum on the subject.”
“But surely this would be going too far. Why, the fellow is a lawyer, how do you think I would look hearing his arguments in court, if all the time I am thinking that I have play bridge with the fellow in the evenings. Good intentions are all right, but I draw the line at this.” Said the District Judge.
“Does the application give other details about the background of Mr. Chaturvedi?” asked the Collector. It was a rhetorical question, because the background of the applicant was well known to all present except Cartwright.
“Well, according to his own account he comes from one of the biggest landowningfamilies in the district. Educated at Mayo College Ajmer, then Cambridge and then the Inns of Court in London.”
“Well, that makes him almost one of us, surely,” ventured Cartwright, who had not spoken so far.
“One of us,” laughed the SP without mirth, “why the fellow is a Congress member and the head of the reception committee for Gandhi’s meeting next month. These educated natives, especially those educated in England are the worst, I can tell you. They think of the old lady who took them in as a lodger in Streatham Common when they were students and think they should be on the same footing with the British in India. Damned cheek I call it!”
“Still an outright refusal may not go down well.”
“Collector Sahib” said the DJ who was proud of his forensic skill, “this fellow is a brahmin, would he dine with a pariah.”
“Of course, he would not.”
“They by the same token he can not expect to become a member of the club, because a club by definition is an exclusive body, a closed caste, a fraternity of like-minded people, and this gentleman would be as misfit inthis group as a …” the DJ groped for a suitable phrase.
“As a brown dumpling in a suet pudding.”Said the SP.
“I was going to say, a black sheep among white, but your simile is not a bad one.”
The collector slammed his hand on the green baize table. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, you don’t seem to realize that things have changed. While I agree that Mr. Chaturvedi’s membership would be most unsuitable, we cannot any longer treat that Indians as we have been doing in the past. So unless we find some really convincing reason for rejecting this application-and convincing not merely to us but also to the Indians-we will have to accept his membership.”
“All right, keep it pending then. Say there was no quorum in the meeting. Surely no one can question that, for this is one of those cases where judgement has to be put off,” Said the DJ.
“But there is quorum, sir,” said the Collector punctilious as ever.
“Well, now there isn’t,” said the District Judge, getting up from the table. “I have to pass judgement in a long pending civil case tomorrow, so I am off. Goodnight Bains.”
“The Collector suppressed an exclamation and looked in exasperation at Cooper. “What do you suggest we do now, Copper? We can’t put this off for every you know.”
“Sir according to the rules and bye-laws of the Hoshangabad Club a meeting of the executive committee should be held once every quarter. A meeting that is adjourned for want of a quorum can be called to order once again after waiting for half an hour.” It was the established practice to go strictly by the book in all minor matters, and Cooper wasn’t going to depart form this sound tradition.
“What do the rules say about emergency meetings?”Asked the Collector.
“Nothing, the rules are silent on this issue.”
“Is there nothing about residuary powers. There must be some saving clause about incidental or miscellaneous matters somewhere.” The Collector had spent his life sifting through official minutiae and was familiar with such matters.
“Well, now that you mention it sir, there is a clause about matters not specifically mentioned in the rules. In such matters, it seems the President of the Club has the freedom to use his discretion.”
“Good, and this being one such matter, I am going to use my powers as the President of the Club to convene and emergency meeting to discuss the issue of Mr. Chaturvedi’s membership. Will you please ensure that this meeting is called by the end of the month, Cooper.”
The SP had been fidgeting in his chair and he now summoned a bearer to bring the drink. Three bearers now appeared, each one of them carrying a separate drink on silver salver, a rum and water for the SP, a whisky and soda for the Collector and a gin and tonic for the DFO. “What about you Cartwright?”
“Nothing for me, thank you. I find alcohol doesn’t seem to agree with me here. It is the climate I suppose.”
“Nonsense. You can’t be a damned teetotaller and run a district. Not in India. You will become a royal pain the neck for everyone, and sheer boredom will kill you in the end, even if the climate doesn’t. Hey, beara! Get a rum for Cartwright Saab!”
“Well, finish your drinks quickly, I am told the ladies are waiting.”
“Waiting for Cartwright, you mean. Not for old fogeys like us,” said the SP with a wink at no one in particular.
Mrs. Macgregor, a large matronly woman with a red face was the first to greet them as the party entered the library, “Oh, there you are, we thought you would spend all evening in discussion. It must be something very important no doubt.”
“Oh, nothing important Mrs. Macgregor, a new salary for the club marker and things like that, you know,” said the Collector who was not married himself, and being an old bachelor was often the butt of good humoured banter and teasing by the ladies.
“Really! Would that have kept you talking for the better part of an hour. No Mr. Bains, I fancy it was something about the doings of that outlaw perhaps. Tom never tell me very much you know, Perhaps Mr Cartwright will enlighten us.”
If Cartwright saw the Collector’s raised eyebrow he ignored it, and the shake of his head by the SP also did not register with him. He was after all new to India, and thus plunged in, “it is about admitting Mr Pratap Chaturvedi, an Indian pleader, as a member of the club.”
There was a chorus of socked exclamations from Mrs. Macgregor, Mrs. Cooper and their daughters. “ You are not going to tell me to my face, Tom, that you are going to have a black man running amok in the club while you have your wife and daughter here, are you.”
“It hasn’t happened yet my dear.”
“He is no more black than I am, my dear Mary,” said the Collector, “His complexion, if it really matters to you, is almost as fair as that of a European.”
“It don’t matter. He is a native isn’t he. You don’t expect me to sit down with a native as my bridge partner. Do you. And my daughters in the same room with him at that!”
“You do have native servants at home, I hope Mrs. Macgregor.”
“Indeed Mr. Bains! And it keeps me on the tenterhooks all the time. What with having young girls at home.”
Her two daughters Lousia and Catherine both looked at each other with a sly smile. Lousia was a young woman of about twenty, tall and awkward with her mother’s florid complexion. Catherine was still a shy, gawky teenager who wore spectacles. Though not beauties, they were both suitably accomplished. Lousia played the piano and Catherine was good at sketching.
“What do you think of the whole business Mr. Cartwright,” said the SP’s wife to draw him into the conversation.
“Oh, I think it isn’t such a bad thing, after all. It will give us a chance to know Indians better. No harm I that.”
“You say that because you are new to India and don’t really know the natives. You can never trust them. Never.” Mrs Macgregor was careful not to contradict Cartwright too sharply. She had two marriageable daughter and n ICS officer like Cartwright would be a prize catch. It wasn’t very often that her daughters had a chance to socialise with an unmarried ICS probationer. In fact, it wasn’t often that they had chance of meeting any sort of young men who could be considered eligible, The prospects for the daughter of a minor up-country official were not very good, unless she had great beauty or money.
“Mary is right I dare say.” Said Mrs Cooper who had been keeping in the back-ground so far, giving precedence to the SP’s wife in keeping with the official hierarchy, but she was keen to show that she was up-to-date as well. “Remember what happened to white women in Amritsar only the other day. The honour of English women is never going to be safe in this country.”
Privately all the ladies thought, General Dyer had done absolutely the right thing by asking all the natives to crow whenever they came before a white woman. It had created the right ‘moral effect’ in the Punjab, as Dyer had claimed. Oh, for a Dyer in the Central Provinces! But even the ladies, felt that things were not bad as the Punjab and their husbands could manage the show, at the end of the day. “But you are coming to the Halloween Ball, aren’t you Mr Cartwright?” Mrs. Cooper had her own daughter Amanda, who with her blond curls and blue eyes was thought to be something of a beauty and Mrs Cooper had hopes of her own for her.
“No Mrs. Cooper, Cartwright would be spending the next few days in the state of Ratangarh as a guest of our old friend Preddy.”
“It would be a real shame, not attending the Halloween Party. Do put off this visit Mr Bains,”
“Can’t be done, I am afraid. The Resident is coming down form Indore to Ratangarh and I want Cartwright to keep him company. There is no better way to learn a thing or two about our neighbour to the north.”
“Oh, but he would attend the Midsummer Ball then?”
“Of course!”
“And the Governor’s Ball at Pachmarhi.”
“And the Governor’s ball.”
“And the picnic to Sohagpur next week.”
“And the Picnic next week”
