flat on the concrete terrace under the awning, the bracelets which they were fashioning held between their toes.
Ramlogan spoke sharply to them: ‘What the hell happen to all-you? The goldsmith paying all-you just to meddle in other people business?’
They hurriedly began tapping away at their bracelets.
From the veranda Chittaranjan said, ‘Let them wait until I come down.’ He clattered down the front steps. ‘Is this modern age. Everybody want something for nothing. I work for every penny I have, and now you have these people complaining that they is poor and behaving as though other people depriving them.’
Ramlogan, grasping the fence firmly, agreed. ‘The march of time, brothers. As the saying goes. Everybody equal. People who ain’t got brain to work and those who use their brain to work. Everybody equal.’
Ramlogan invited Chittaranjan over to the shop and seated him on an empty rum crate in front of the counter. He gave him a glass of grapefruit juice because he knew Chittaranjan didn’t drink hard liquor.
They talked of the degeneracy of the modern age; they agreed that democracy was a stupid thing; then they came to the elections and to Baksh.
Chittaranjan, sipping his grapefruit juice without great relish—he still had a low opinion of Ramlogan’s cleanliness—said: ‘This democracy just make for people like Baksh. Fact, I say it just make for Negro and Muslim. They is two people who never like to make anything for theyself, and the moment you make something, they start begging. And if you ain’t give them, they vex.’
Ramlogan, thinking of Haq, assented with conviction.
‘And if you give them,’ Chittaranjan went on, ‘they is ungrateful.’
‘As the saying goes, however much you wash a pig, you can’t make it a cow. As the saying goes.’
‘Look at Baksh. Everybody else in Elvira just asking for one little piece of help before they vote for any particular body. Baksh is the only man who want three.’
Ramlogan scratched his head. ‘Three bribe, brothers?’
‘Three. Baksh done calculate everything ready.’
‘The old people was old-fashion, but they was right about a lot of things. My father, when he was deading, tell me never to trust a Muslim.’
‘Muslim, Negro. You can’t trust none of them.’
They told tales of the ingratitude and treachery of these races. When Chittaranjan left, he and Ramlogan were good friends.
After that, every morning when Ramlogan got up he went out into his yard and called, ‘How you is, brothers?’ And Chittaranjan came to his veranda and said, ‘All right, brothers. And how you is?’
Soon they started calling each other ‘bruds’.
*
Then Ramlogan had an unfortunate idea. He wanted among other things to make some gesture that would seal his friendship with Chittaranjan. One day he announced that he was going to give a case of whisky to the committee of the winning candidate. He didn’t make it more specific than that because he wished to preserve his impartiality, but he had no doubt that Harbans would win. Chittaranjan understood and was grateful. And the rest of Elvira was astonished by this act of the laxest generosity from someone who was not even a candidate. Which was one of Ramlogan’s subsidiary intentions.
He talked a lot about his offer. This was to have disastrous consequences.
*
It was not until the week before nomination day that Baksh showed his hand. Two indirect messages came from him.
First, Foam announced: ‘Pa say he thinking of going up for the elections hisself.’
‘Damn traitor!’ Harbans said, and added calmly, ‘But he ain’t got a chance. He only control the thousand Muslim votes.’
‘Is that he say hisself,’ Foam said. ‘He say is the only thing that keeping him back.’
And then Ramlogan hurried across to Chittaranjan one lunch-time and said in a whisper, although there was no need to whisper: ‘Bruds, Baksh was in the shop today. He ask me whether I would vote for him if he went up for the elections.’
Chittaranjan said, ‘He ask you to tell me?’
Ramlogan said in a softer whisper, ‘He particularly ask me not to tell you, bruds.’
‘But he ask you about three four times not to tell me?’
Ramlogan looked surprised at Chittaranjan’s sagacity. ‘He did keep on asking me not to tell you. Is the reason why I come over to tell you.’
Chittaranjan said simply, ‘Well, Baksh just got to get bribe number two now, that is all.’
And when Harbans came to Elvira Chittaranjan told him, ‘Mr Harbans, you could take it from Chittaranjan that you win the elections.’
Harbans preferred not to show any excitement.
Chittaranjan said, ‘Baksh send a message.’
‘Another message again?’
‘He want to