The Man-Eater of Malgudi by R. K. Narayan

Author:R. K. Narayan [Narayan, R. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Classics, Contemporary, Literary, Contemporary Fiction, Literary Fiction
ISBN: 0140118632
Amazon: B00HFXK3SO
Publisher: Penguin Classics
Published: 1993-05-01T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The poet was in an exalted mood. He had completed the portion where Krishna meets his future wife Radha and their marriage is to be celebrated. He had several hundred lines of crystal-clear monosyllables; he had evolved his own prosody and had succeeded. His manuscript was ready, several little exercise books stitched by himself and wrapped in brown paper, closely filled with writing in green ink. He had written till late on the previous night. His eyes were red witli sleeplessness. But his face glowed with triumph. With the marriage, the book would make about ninety-six pages. Sastri had printed the book at the rate of four pages a month over a space of countless months, and it had now assumed the shape of a volume. Sastri himself was excited at the completion of the volume with the marriage episode. He brought in proofs of some pages and hesitated for a moment. When Sastri stood hesitatingly this way, I always knew he would have something to say and hoped that if I did not turn round and meet his eyes he would be gone. As I bent over my paper, I was aware of his shadow behind me.

"What is it, Sastri?" I asked sharply.

He looked at the poet and both of them smiled. So I

knew it was a piece of good news and felt relieved. "When a poet has arrived at the stage of the marriage of a God, it'll be auspicious to celebrate the occasion," And then he went on to explain how it was to be conducted. I was fond of the poet, and anything that was going to give him a place in our society was welcome.

Enormous preparations started. Once again my normal work of composing and printing was pushed to the background. The fruit-juice man prospered more than ever and wanted four thousand more of the three-color labels, but I was not prepared to give him his labels yet. I had only time to print the first basic gray; I put it away to dry and said so every time the messenger came from fruit-juice. Let him try and print it elsewhere and I should not object to it. But where would he get the magenta, that thirst-creating shade of color which drew people in a rush to wherever his bottles were displayed? The sixth time I turned back the boy, K.J. himself came thundering in and shouted at Sastri from beyond the curtain. He did not know that I was also there; I was behind the curtain, helping Sastri to compose an appeal for our function ahead. We needed funds for the celebration. We were also in a conference with an astrologer in the composing room. We did not want to be disturbed; there now hung a thickly woven bamboo mat screening us off from whatever might be on the other side of the grille. Vasu might have all the dead animals in creation there, but it was not going to affect us. He

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