Ruth Prawer Jhabvala

Out of India


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      Previous books by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala:

      NOVELS

       Amrita

       The Nature of Passion

       Esmond in India

       The Householder

       Get Ready for Battle

       A Backward Place

       Travelers

       Heat and Dust

       In Search of Love and Beauty

       Three Continents

      STORIES

       Like Birds, Like Fishes

       A Stronger Climate

       An Experience of India

       How I Became a Holy Mother

       East into Upper East

      Copyright 1957, 1963, 1966, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1976, 1986, 2000

      by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala

      First Counterpoint paperback copyright 2000.

      “The Widow,” “The Interview,” “Passion,” “The Man with the Dog,” “Rose Petals,” “Two More Under the Indian Sun,” “Bombay,” “On Bail,” “In the Mountains,” and “Desecration” appeared originally in The New Yorker.

      The Introduction, “Myself in India,” first appeared in London Magazine.

      “A Spiritual Call” first appeared in The Cornhill.

      “The Housewife” first appeared in Cosmopolitan.

      “My First Marriage,” “An Experience of India,” and How I Became a Holy Mother” first appeared in Encounter.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the Publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

      Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

      Jhabvala, Ruth Prawer, 1927–

      Out of India : selected stories / Ruth Prawer Jhabvala—1st Counterpoint pbk. ed.

      p. cm.

      1. India—Social life and customs—Fiction. I. Title.

      PR9499.3.15 A6 2000

      823—dc21 99-046035

      Printed in the United States of America

      COUNTERPOINT

      P.O. Box 65793

      Washington, D.C. 200035-5793

       Counterpoint is a member of the Perseus Book Group.

      10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

       e-book ISBN 978-1-61902-877-7

       For C.S.H.J. as always

       CONTENTS

      A Spiritual Call

      Passion

      The Man with the Dog

      An Experience of India

      The Housewife

      Rose Petals

      Two More Under the Indian Sun

      Bombay

      On Bail

      In the Mountains

      How I Became a Holy Mother

      Desecration

       INTRODUCTION: MYSELF IN INDIA

      I have lived in India for most of my adult life. My husband is Indian and so are my children. I am not, and less so every year.

      India reacts very strongly on people. Some loathe it, some love it, most do both. There is a special problem of adjustment for the sort of people who come today, who tend to be liberal in outlook and have been educated to be sensitive and receptive to other cultures. But it is not always easy to be sensitive and receptive to India: there comes a point where you have to close up in order to protect yourself. The place is very strong and often proves too strong for European nerves. There is a cycle that Europeans—by Europeans I mean all Westerners, including Americans—tend to pass through. It goes like this: first stage, tremendous enthusiasm—everything Indian is marvelous; second stage, everything Indian not so marvelous; third stage, everything Indian abominable. For some people it ends there, for others the cycle renews itself and goes on. I have been through it so many times that now I think of myself as strapped to a wheel that goes round and round and sometimes I’m up and sometimes I’m down. When I meet other Europeans, I can usually tell after a few moments’ conversation at what stage of the cycle they happen to be. Everyone likes to talk about India, whether they happen to be loving or loathing it. It is a topic on which a lot of things can be said, and on a variety of aspects—social, economic, political, philosophical: it makes fascinating viewing from every side.

      However, I must admit that I am no longer interested in India. What I am interested in now is myself in India—which sometimes, in moments of despondency, I tend to think of as my survival in India. I had better say straightaway that the reason I live in India is that my strongest human ties are here. If I hadn’t married an Indian, I don’t think I would ever have come here for I am not attracted—or used not to be attracted—to the things that usually bring people to India. I know I am the wrong type of person to live here. To stay and endure, one should have a mission and a cause, to be patient, cheerful, unselfish, strong. I am a central European with an English education and a deplorable tendency to constant self-analysis. I am irritable and have weak nerves.

      The most salient fact about India is that it is very poor and very backward. There are so many other things to be said about it but this must remain the basis of all of them. We may praise Indian democracy, go into raptures over Indian music, admire Indian intellectuals—but whatever we say, not for one moment should we lose sight of the fact that a very great number of Indians never get enough