her back upstairs, laid them out again in their former place.
"You can't stay," I told him.
But I couldn't say any more because of Ritu. She was in a strange state. She sat in a corner with her knees drawn up and didn't say one word. She looked frightened - she was like a little wild animal that had rushed in for protection. Although I did not feel in a fit condition to protect anyone, I tried to pull myself together and speak to her in a calm way. I don't think she even heard. Her eyes continued to dart around the room, but she seemed not to see anything either. Chid sat cross-legged in the corner opposite the one where she crouched. His eyes were shut, his beads slipped through his fingers, he chanted. He made me mad.
"You can't stay! " I shouted at him.
But his chanting had transported him elsewhere - perhaps into wider, cooler, brighter, more beautiful regions. He swayed lightly, his beads went on slipping, his lips moved; he was blissful. Ritu began to scream the way she had done that night. Chid opened his eyes, looked at her, then shut them again and went on chanting. They both got louder - like communicants of two rival sects, each trying to prove the superiority of his faith by outshouting the other.
30 April. As the heat and dust storms continue, Ritu's condition has become worse. She has now to be kept locked up inside the room and sometimes terrible sounds come from out of there. The other people living around the courtyard seem to be quite used to them-and continue to move around their business undisturbed. Chid is also quite undisturbed. He says he has been in India long enough to have got used to everything. But I can't get used to these screams. I kept telling Chid "But she ought to have treatment. "
One day he said "She's going to have treatment today."
"What sort?" I asked.
"One of their people is coming to do it."
That day the screams broke out again, but in an entirely different way. Now they were bloodcurdling as of an animal in intense physical pain. Even the neighbours in the courtyard stopped to listen. Chid remained calm: "It's her treatment," he said. He went on to explain that she might be possessed by an evil spirit which had to be driven out by applying a red-hot iron to various parts of her body, such as her arms or the soles of her feet.
Next day I decided to speak to Inder Lal about psychiatric treatment. I waited for him outside his office, and as we walked home together, I tried to explain to him what it was. I said "It's a sort of science of the mind," which pleased him and made him attentive. He associates science with progress and everything else modern and up-to-date that he is eager to learn about; when anyone speaks about such things, his face takes on an expression of wistful desire.
But when I mentioned the" treatment" to which Ritu had been subjected, he changed again. He became both melancholy and embarrassed; he said "I don't believe in these things. "
"But you had it done. "
"Mother wanted it."
He went on to defend both himself and her. He said all her friends had advised it; they had cited many cases where it had effected a cure. At first his mother had also been reluctant, but then she said "Why not try," and in the end he too said "why not," for they had tried everything else but had not succeeded in relieving Ritu's suffering.
Just then one of his colleagues passed us and greeted me very politely. They have all got used to me now and often take the opportunity of having conversation in English. Of course I greeted him back again, but Inder Lal did not care for this exchange. He frowned, and when the man was out of earshot, said "Why does he pretend to be so friendly."
" He is friendly. "
Inder Lal's frown deepened. He wouldn't talk for a while but brooded in his thoughts.
"But what's he done?" I asked.
Inder Lal implored me not to speak so loudly. He looked over his shoulder which made me laugh.
"You don't know," he said then. His whole face had closed
"You can't stay," I told him.
But I couldn't say any more because of Ritu. She was in a strange state. She sat in a corner with her knees drawn up and didn't say one word. She looked frightened - she was like a little wild animal that had rushed in for protection. Although I did not feel in a fit condition to protect anyone, I tried to pull myself together and speak to her in a calm way. I don't think she even heard. Her eyes continued to dart around the room, but she seemed not to see anything either. Chid sat cross-legged in the corner opposite the one where she crouched. His eyes were shut, his beads slipped through his fingers, he chanted. He made me mad.
"You can't stay! " I shouted at him.
But his chanting had transported him elsewhere - perhaps into wider, cooler, brighter, more beautiful regions. He swayed lightly, his beads went on slipping, his lips moved; he was blissful. Ritu began to scream the way she had done that night. Chid opened his eyes, looked at her, then shut them again and went on chanting. They both got louder - like communicants of two rival sects, each trying to prove the superiority of his faith by outshouting the other.
30 April. As the heat and dust storms continue, Ritu's condition has become worse. She has now to be kept locked up inside the room and sometimes terrible sounds come from out of there. The other people living around the courtyard seem to be quite used to them-and continue to move around their business undisturbed. Chid is also quite undisturbed. He says he has been in India long enough to have got used to everything. But I can't get used to these screams. I kept telling Chid "But she ought to have treatment. "
One day he said "She's going to have treatment today."
"What sort?" I asked.
"One of their people is coming to do it."
That day the screams broke out again, but in an entirely different way. Now they were bloodcurdling as of an animal in intense physical pain. Even the neighbours in the courtyard stopped to listen. Chid remained calm: "It's her treatment," he said. He went on to explain that she might be possessed by an evil spirit which had to be driven out by applying a red-hot iron to various parts of her body, such as her arms or the soles of her feet.
Next day I decided to speak to Inder Lal about psychiatric treatment. I waited for him outside his office, and as we walked home together, I tried to explain to him what it was. I said "It's a sort of science of the mind," which pleased him and made him attentive. He associates science with progress and everything else modern and up-to-date that he is eager to learn about; when anyone speaks about such things, his face takes on an expression of wistful desire.
But when I mentioned the" treatment" to which Ritu had been subjected, he changed again. He became both melancholy and embarrassed; he said "I don't believe in these things. "
"But you had it done. "
"Mother wanted it."
He went on to defend both himself and her. He said all her friends had advised it; they had cited many cases where it had effected a cure. At first his mother had also been reluctant, but then she said "Why not try," and in the end he too said "why not," for they had tried everything else but had not succeeded in relieving Ritu's suffering.
Just then one of his colleagues passed us and greeted me very politely. They have all got used to me now and often take the opportunity of having conversation in English. Of course I greeted him back again, but Inder Lal did not care for this exchange. He frowned, and when the man was out of earshot, said "Why does he pretend to be so friendly."
" He is friendly. "
Inder Lal's frown deepened. He wouldn't talk for a while but brooded in his thoughts.
"But what's he done?" I asked.
Inder Lal implored me not to speak so loudly. He looked over his shoulder which made me laugh.
"You don't know," he said then. His whole face had closed
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