The nightwatchman's occurrence book_ and other comic inventions - By V. S. Naipaul Page 0,42

him up was the limitless confidence he always gave off. Nothing surprised or upset Harichand, and he was always ready with a remedy.

‘I have a pussonal feeling,’ Baksh began, seating Harichand on a bench in the veranda, ‘I have a pussonal feeling that somebody feed that dog here.’

‘Feed, eh?’ Harichand got up again and took off his coat. His white shirt was spotless. One of Harichand’s idiosyncrasies was to wear a clean shirt every day. He folded his coat carefully and rested it on the ledge of the veranda wall. Then he sat down and hitched up his sharply creased blue serge trousers above his knees. ‘Somebody feed it, eh? But did tell you not to feed it. Wust thing in the world, feeding dog like that.’

Mrs Baksh came up. ‘What go happen if the dog dead, Harichand?’

Harichand hadn’t thought of that. ‘What go happen, eh?’ He passed the edge of his thumb-nail along his sharp little moustache. ‘If it dead.’ He paused. ‘Could be dangerous. You never know. You went to see somebody about it?’

She mentioned the name of the mystic in Tamana.

Harichand made a face. ‘He all right. But he don’t really know. Not like Ganesh Pundit. Ganesh was the man.’

‘Is that I does always say,’ Baksh said. He turned to Mrs Baksh. ‘Ain’t I did tell you, man, that Ganesh Pundit was the man?’

‘Still,’ Harichand said consolingly, ‘you went to see somebody. He give you something for the house and he jharay the boy?’

‘He well jharay him,’ Mrs Baksh said. ‘Baksh tell you about the sign, Harichand?’

‘Sign? Funeral huss?’

‘Not that,’ Baksh said quickly. ‘We had a sign. Tell him, man.’

Mrs Baksh told about the ‘Ten Die!’ sign.

‘Did see it,’ said Harichand. ‘Didn’t know was your sign.’

Baksh smiled. ‘Well, was we sign.’

Harichand said firmly, ‘Mustn’t let the dog dead.’

‘But you did tell me not to feed him,’ Baksh said.

‘Didn’t tell me about your sign,’ said Harichand. ‘And too besides, didn’t exactly say that. Did just say not to feed it inside the house. Wust thing in the world, feeding dog like that inside.’

‘Feed him outside?’ Baksh asked.

‘That’s right. Outside. Feed him outside.’

Harichand stood up and looked down at Tiger.

‘Think he go dead, Harichand?’ Mrs Baksh asked.

‘Hm.’ Harichand frowned and bit his thin lower lip with sharp white teeth. ‘Mustn’t let him dead.’

Baksh said, ‘He look strong to you, Harichand?’

‘Wouldn’t exactly call him a strong dog,’ Harichand said.

Baksh coaxed: ‘But is thin thin dogs like that does live and live and make a lot a lot of mischief, eh, Harichand?’

Harichand said, ‘Trinidad full of thin dogs.’

‘Still,’ Baksh said, ‘they living.’

Harichand whispered to Baksh, ‘Is thin dogs like that does breed a lot, you know. And breed fast to boot.’

Baksh made a big show of astonishment, to please Harichand.

‘Yes, man. Dogs like that. Telling you, man. See it with my own eyes.’ Harichand caught Mrs Baksh’s eye. He said, loudly, ‘Just feed it outside. Outside all the time. Everything going to be all right. If anything happen, just let me know.’

He hung his coat lovingly over his left arm and straightened his tie. As he was leaving he said, ‘Still waiting for those election printing jobs, Baksh. If Harbans want my vote, he want my printery. Otherwise …’ And Harichand shook his head and laughed.

*

Soon Tiger was passing through Elvira again, this time in the loudspeaker van. Foam and Herbert were taking him, on instructions, to the old cocoa-house.

*

Chittaranjan called.

Baksh said, ‘Going out campaigning, Goldsmith?’

For Chittaranjan was in his visiting outfit.

Chittaranjan didn’t reply.

‘Something private, eh, Goldsmith?’

And Baksh led Chittaranjan upstairs. But Chittaranjan didn’t take off his hat and didn’t sit down in the cane-bottomed chair.

‘Something serious, Goldsmith?’

‘Baksh, I want you to stop interfering with my daughter.’

Baksh knit his brows.

Chittaranjan’s flush became deeper. His smile widened. His calm voice iced over: ‘It have some people who can’t bear to see other people prosper. I don’t want nobody to pass over their obeah to me and I ain’t give my daughter all that education for she to run about with boys in the night-time.’

‘You talking about Foam, eh?’

‘I ain’t talking about Foam. I talking about the man who instigating Foam. And that man is you, Baksh. I is like that, as you know. I does say my mind, and who want to vex, let them vex.’

‘Look out, you know, Goldsmith! You calling me a instigator.’

‘I ain’t want your obeah in my house. We is Hindus. You is Muslim. And too besides, my daughter practically engage already.’

‘Engage!’ Baksh laughed. ‘Engage to Harbans son?