Page 28 - DENG503_INDIAN_WRITINGS_IN_LITERATURE

Indian Writings in Literature

Notes She turned to look at me then. Her hair was hanging in wet ropes over her face, her eyes were
glazed and her spectacles had fallen off. I was frightened by the sight of her. I wished I hadn’t shut
the door behind my back.
I gave it away, she said, her glazed, unfocused eyes alighting, not on me, but on a point on the
wall above my head.
Why Tha’mma? I said. Why did you do that?
I gave it away, she screamed, I gave it to the fund for the war. I had to, don’t you see? For your
sake; for your freedom. We have to kill them before they kill us; we have to wipe them out.
She becomes so frantic and desperate that the few drops of blood, which came out of her hand
when she struck the radio in rage; she wants to donate it to the hospital so that it could be used for
the solidiers.
Ila thought not as obstinate and impulsive as Tha’mma, is a bold and a free girl. She does not want
to be tied to any one place or culture. She wishes to lead a free and unstrained life. She would not
respect her uncle Roby when he restrains her from leading a kind of free life in a Calcuttan hotel
as she used to see in other places of the world. She would snub at him and even entered a verbal
duel with him over this in a hotel in Culcutta where she had gone with Roby and the narrator. She
wanted to dance and when Roby refused she wanted to go with anybody who would dance with
her. Roby objected to this saying,
‘I can’t dance, he said, raising his head to look at her. And even if I could, I wouldn’t in a place like
thus. I think you should sit down, for you’re not going to dance either.
At first she was merely surprised.
I’m not going to dance? She said. Why not?
Because I won’t let you, said Robi evenly.
You won’t let me? She said. The muscles of her face went slowly rigid.
‘You won’t let me? She said. Why, who do you think you are? Robi folded his arms across his
chest. It doesn’t matter who I am, he said, I won’t let you.
She turned to look at the narrators, her lips going thin and bloodless. Does he think, she asked
him, that I’m one of his college freshers or something? Does he think because he’s got a lot of
muscles, he can stop me? Does he think I’m scared of a college bully? Well let’s see him stop me.’
After that Ila gets up to take the hand of the businessman with whom she wanted to dance and
Roby instantly puts him down with a knock of his. A brief ruckus is created in the hotel and he
gives a quick word of apology to every body, pays up the bill quickly and moves out with others.
Out side he says to Ila,
‘You shouldn’t have done what you did. You ought to know that, girls don’t behave like that
here.’
What the fuck do you mean? She spat at him. What do you mean ‘girls’? I’ll do what I bloody well
want, when I want and where.
No you won’t, he said. Not if I’m around. Girls don’t behave like that here.
Why but? She screamed. Why fucking well not?
You can do what you like in England, he said. But here there are certain things you cannot do.
That’s our culture, that’s how we live.
Then she waved to a taxi. It stopped and she darted into it, rolled down the window, and shouted:
Do you see now why I’ve chosen to live in London? Do you see? It’s only because I want to be free.
Free of what? The narrator said.
Free of you! She shouted back. Free of your bloody culture and free of all of you.’
But she has to pay a price for this kind of life that she leads. She is a failure both at home and
outside. She suffers from racial discrimination outside India but still sings praises of those lands.
Nothing that happens in India is as great as that happens in London even if it is mundane, trivial

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