Man Eater of Malgudi

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Man Eater of Malgudi by R. K. Narayan I could have profitably rented out the little room in front of my press. On Market Road, with a view of the fountain, it was coveted by every wouldbe shopkeeper in our town; I was considered a fool for not getting my money's worth out of it, while all the space I needed for my press and its personnel was at the back, beyond the blue curtain. I could not explain myself to sordid calculating folk. I hung a framed picture of Goddess Laxmi poised on her lotus and holding aloft the bounties of earth in her four hands, and through her grace I did not do too badly. My son, little Babu, went to Albert Mission School and felt adequately supplied with toys, books, sweets, and other odds and ends that he fancied from time to time. My wife gave herself a new silk sari, glittering with lace, every Deepavali, not to mention the ones acquired for no particular reason at other times. She kept the pantry well stocked and our kitchen fire aglow, continuing the traditions of our ancient home in Kabir Street. I had furnished my parlor with a highbacked chair made of teakwood, Queen Anne style as claimed by the auctioneer who had sold it to my grandfather, a rolltop desk supported on bow legs with ivy vine carved on them, and four other seats of varying heights and shapes. Anyone whose feet ached while passing Market Road was welcome to rest in my parlor, filling any seat that happened to be vacant at the time. Resting there, people got ideas and allowed me to print their bill forms, visiting cards, or wedding invitations. But there also came in a lot of others whose visit did not mean a paisa to me. Among my constant companions was a poet who was writing the life of God Krishna in monosyllabic verse. His ambition was to compose a grand epic, and he came almost every day to recite to me his latest lines. My admiration for him was unbounded. I felt thrilled to hear clear lines such as "Girls with girls did dance in trance," and I felt equally thrilled when I had to infer the meaning of certain lines, as when he totally failed to find a monosyllable but achieved his end by ruthlessly carving up a polysyllabic word. On such occasions even the most familiar term took on the mysterious quality of a private code language. Invariably, in deference to his literary attainments, I let him occupy the Queen Anne chair. I sat perched on the edge of my rolltop desk. In the other best seat, a deep basket in cane, you would find Sen the journalist, who came to read the newspaper on my table and held forth on the mistakes Nehru was making. These two men and a few others remained in their seats even at six in the evening when the press was silenced. It was not necessary that I should be present or attend to them in any manner. They were also good enough, without being told, to vacate their chairs and disappear when anyone came to discuss business. Between my parlor and the press hung a blue curtain. No one tried to peer through it. When I shouted for the foreman, compositor, office boy, binder, or accountant, people imagined a lot of men on the other side, although if it came to a challenge I should have had to go in and play the ventriloquist. But my neighbor, the Star Press, had all the staff one might dream of, and if any customer of mine insisted on seeing machinery, I led him not past my curtain but right

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Regional Novel. The Man Eater of Malgudi by R.K. Narayan.

Transcript of Man Eater of Malgudi

Man Eater of Malgudi by R. K. NarayanI could have profitably rented out the little room in front of my press. On Market Road, ith a vie of the fountain, it as coveted by every ouldbe shopkeeper in our ton! I as considered a fool for not getting my money"s orth out of it, hile all the space I needed for my press and its personnel as at the back, beyond the blue curtain. I could not e#plain myself to sordid calculating folk. I hung a framed picture of $oddess %a#mi poised on her lotus and holding aloft the bounties of earth in her four hands, and through her grace I did not do too badly. My son, little &abu, ent to 'lbert Mission (chool and felt ade)uately supplied ith toys, books, seets, and other odds and ends that he fancied from time to time. My ife gave herself a ne silk sari, glittering ith lace, every *eepavali, not to mention the ones ac)uired for no particular reason at other times. (he kept the pantry ell stocked and our kitchen fire aglo, continuing the traditions of our ancient home in Kabir (treet.I had furnished my parlor ith a highbacked chair made of teakood, +ueen 'nne style as claimed by the auctioneer ho had sold it to my grandfather, a rolltop desk supported on bo legs ith ivy vine carved on them, and four other seats of varying heights and shapes.'nyone hose feet ached hile passing Market Road as elcome to rest in my parlor, filling any seat that happened to be vacant at the time. Resting there, people got ideas and alloed me to print their bill forms, visiting cards, or edding invitations. &ut there also came in a lot of others hose visit did not mean a paisa to me. 'mong my constant companions as a poet ho as riting the life of $od Krishna in monosyllabic verse. ,is ambition as to compose a grand epic, and he came almost every day to recite to me his latest lines. My admiration for him as unbounded. I felt thrilled to hear clear lines such as -$irls ith girls did dance in trance,- and I felt e)ually thrilled hen I had to infer the meaning of certain lines, as hen he totally failed to find a monosyllable but achieved his end by ruthlessly carving up a polysyllabic ord.On such occasions even the most familiar term took on the mysterious )uality of a private code language. Invariably, in deference to his literary attainments, I let him occupy the +ueen 'nne chair. I sat perched on the edge of my rolltop desk.In the other best seat, a deep basket in cane, you ould find (en the .ournalist, ho came to read the nespaper on my table and held forth on the mistakes Nehru as making. /hese to men and a fe others remained in their seats even at si# in the evening hen the press as silenced. It as not necessary that I should be present or attend to them in any manner. /hey ere also good enough, ithout being told, to vacate their chairs and disappear hen anyone came to discuss business.&eteen my parlor and the press hung a blue curtain. No one tried to peer through it. 0hen I shouted for the foreman, compositor, office boy, binder, or accountant, people imagined a lot of men on the other side, although if it came to a challenge I should have had to go in and play the ventrilo)uist.&ut my neighbor, the (tar 1ress, had all the staff one might dream of, and if any customer of mine insisted on seeing machinery, I led him not past my curtain but right ne#t door to (tar, hose original ,eidelberg I displayed to everyone ith pride, and hose double cylinder I made out to be a real ac)uisition 2although in my personal vie that man made a mistake in buying it, as its groans could be heard beyond the railay yard hen forms ere being printed3./he oner of the (tar as a nice man, a good friend, but he hardly ever got customers. ,o could he, hen all the time they ere croding my parlor, even though I could offer them nothing more than an assortment of chairs and a ord of elcome4 &ut fe ever having stepped beyond the blue curtain, everyone imagined me e)uipped for big tasks, hich I certainly attempted ith the help of my ellisher 2I dare not call him staff3 (astri, the old man ho set up type, printed the forms four pages at a time on the treadle, seed the sheets, and carried them for ruling or binding to Kandan four streets off. I lent him a hand in all departments henever he demanded my help and my visitors left me alone.On the hole I as a busy man, and such business as I could not take up I passed on ne#t door to be done on original ,eidelberg. I as so free ith the (tar that no one kne hether I oned it or hether it oned me.I lived in Kabir (treet, hich ran behind Market Road. My day started before four in the morning. /he streets ould be dark hen I set out for the river for my ablutions, ith the municipal lamps flickering 2if they had not run out of oil3 here and there in our street. I ent don Kabir (treet, cut through a flagged alley at the end of it, trespassed into the compound of the /aluk Office through a gap in its bramble fence, and there I as by the river.I had elldefined encounters all along the ay. /he milk man, starting on his rounds, driving ahead a puny hite co, greeted me respectfully and asked, -0hat is the time, master4-55a )uestion that I alloed to die ithout a reply as I carried no atch. I simpered and let him pass, suppressing the )uestion, /ell me the secret of your magic6 ho you manage to e#tract milklike product out of that miserable colike creature to supply thirty families as you do every morning4... 0hat e#actly are you, con.urer or milkvender4 /he old asthmatic at the end of our street sat up on the pyol of his house and gurgled through his choking throat, -*idn"t get a ink of sleep all night, and already it"s morning and you are out7 /hat"s life, I suppose7- /he atchman at /aluk Office called from beneath his rug, -Is that you4-55the only )uestion deserving a reply. -8es, it"s me,- I alays said and passed on.I had my on spot at the riverside, immediately behind the /aluk Office. I slmnned the long flight of steps farther don6 they ere alays croded! if I ent there I as racked ith the feeling of dipping into other people"s baths! but this point upstream as e#clusive, in my vie. Over the bank of the river loomed a palmyra tree, from hich dangled mud pots. /oddy dripped into them through a gash in the bark of the tree, fermented, stank to the skies, and as gathered in barrels and sold to the patrons congregated at the eighteen taverns scattered in the four corners of the city, here any evening one could see revelers fighting or rolling in gutters. (o much for the potency of the fluid dripping into the pots. I never looked up the palmyra ithout a shudder. -0ith this monopoly of tavernrunning (ankunni builds his mansions in Ne E#tension and rides his four 'merican cars driven by uniformed chauffeurs.- &ut I as unable to get aay from the palmyra myself.'t the foot of the tree as a slab of stone on hich I ashed by dhoti and toel, the dark hour resounding ith the tremendous beating of et cloth on granite. I stood in aistdeep ater, and at the touch of cold ater around my body I felt elated. /he trees on the bank stood like shados in the dusk. 0hen the east gloed I sat for a moment on the sand, reciting a prayer to the (un to illumine my mind. /he signal for breaking off contemplation as the .ingle of o#bells as country carts forded Nallappa"s grove, bringing loads of vegetables, corn, and fuel from nearby villages to the market. I rose and retraced my steps, rolling up my ashing into a tight pack.I had some more encounters on my ay back. My cousin from the fourth street gave me a cold look and passed. (he hated me for staying in our ancestral home, my father having got it as his share after the division of property among his brothers. (he never forgave us, although it had all happened in my father"s time. Most of the citi9ens of this area ere no moving sleepily toard the river, and everyone had a ord for me. One as the layer knon as the ad.ournment layer for his ability to prolong a case beyond the ildest dream of a litigant, a sparse, hungrylooking man ho shaved his chin once a fortnight. ,e cried the moment he sa me, -0here is your bed4 :nless you have slept on the river ho can you be returning at this unearthly hour4;; 0hen I sa him at a distance I cried to myself, -I am undone.Mr. 'd.ournment ill get me no.- /here as one hom I did not really mind meeting, the septuagenarian living in a dilapidated outhouse in 'dam"s %ane, ho oned a do9en houses in our locality, lived on rent, and sent off postal money orders to distant corners of the Indian subcontinent, here his progeny as spread out. ,e alays stopped to give me nes of his relations. ,e looked like a neborn infant hen he bared his gums in a smile. -8ou are late today,- I alays said, and aited for his e#planation! -I sat up late riting letters, you kno ho it is ith all one"s children scattered far and ide.- I did not mind tarrying to listen to the old man, although my fingers felt cramped ith encircling the ad of et clothes I as carrying home to dry. /he old man referred to four sons and their doings, and five daughters, and countless grandchildren. ,e as alays busy, on one hand attending to the repairs of his do9en houses, about hich one or the other of his tenants alays pursued him! on the other, riting innumerable letters on postcards, guiding, blessing, admonishing, or spoiling ith a remittance of cash, one or the other of his ards.I as content to live in our house as it had been left by my father. I as a youth, studying in 'lbert Mission, hen the legal division of ancestral property occurred beteen my father and his brothers. I ell remember the day hen his four brothers marched out ith their ives and children, trundling aay their shares of heirlooms, knickknacks, and household articles. Everything that could be divided into five as cut up into e)ual parts and one as given to each. (uch things as could not be split up ere given to those that clamored the loudest. ' rattan easy chair on hich my grandfather used to lie in the courtyard, alays atching the sky, as claimed by my second uncle, hose ife had started all the furore over the property. (he also claimed a pair of roseood benches hich shone ith a natural polish, and a timber chair that used to be knon as a bugproof chair. My father"s third brother claimed, as compensation for letting these items go, a ooden almirah and a -leg- harmonium operated by a pedal, hich as also being claimed by another uncle hose daughter as supposed to possess musical talent. /his harmonium had gathered dust in a corner for decades ithout anyone noticing it.No one had even asked ho it had come to find a place in our home, although a little family research ould have yielded the information that our grandfather had lent a hundred rupees to a local dramatic troupe and attached their harmonium, as their only movable property, after a court decree, lugged it home, and kept it in a corner of our hall, but had died before he could sell it and reali9e its value. ,is successors took the presence of the harmonium in that corner of the hall for granted until this moment of separation.'ll of the four brothers of my father, ith their ives and children, numbering fifteen, had lived under the same roof for many years. It as my father"s old mother ho had kept them together, acting as a cohesive element among the members of the family. &eteen my grandmother, ho laid don the policy, and a person called $rand'untie, ho actually e#ecuted it, the family administration ran smoothly. 0hen my grandmother died the unity of the family as also gone./he trouble started ith my father"s second brother"s ife, ho complained loudly one day, standing in the passage of the house, that her children had been illtreated. (he made out that she as steadily hated by everyone, and her cause as upheld by her husband. (oon other differences appeared among the brothers and their ives, although all the children continued to play in the open courtyard, unmindful of the attitude of the elders to one another. &efore the year as out, actually on a festival day, they had the biggest open )uarrel, provoked by a minor incident in hich an eightyearold boy knocked don another and snatched a biscuit from his mouth. /he mother of the in.ured child slapped the offender on his bare seat, and a severe family crisis developed.My father and his brothers ere sitting around, eating their midday meal. My father muttered mildly, -If Mother ere alive she ould have handled everyone and prevented such scenes.- /o of the brothers, incensed at the event, got up ithout touching their food. My father commented, ithout looking at anyone in particular, -8ou need not abandon your food. /his is a sacred day. (uch things should not be alloed to happen.-My mother, ho as bending over his leaf serving ghee, hispered, -0hy don"t you mind your business4 /hey are not babies to be taught ho to conduct themselves on a festive day.- My father accepted her advice ithout a ord and resolved at that moment to break up the .oint family in the interests of peace./he ne#t fe days sa our family layers, assisted by the ad.ournment e#pert, alking in and out ith papers to be signed, and ithin a fe eeks the house had become empty. It had been a croded house since the day it as built by my father"s grandfather, ith numerous children, omenfolk, cousins, relations, and guests milling in and out, and no it became suddenly bare and empty./he household then consisted of my parents, $rand'untie, me, and my to sisters. My brother as aay in Madras in a college hostel. 's my father gre older he began to spend all his time sitting on the pyol, on a mat, reading Ramayana or .ust atching the street. Even at night he never ent beyond the pyol. ,e placed a small pillo under his head and stretched himself there. ,e hardly ever visited the other parts of this immense house. Occasionally he andered off to the back yard to pluck the ithered leaves off a citrus tree hich had been his favorite plant. It had been groing for years! no one kne hether it as an orange or a lime tree. It kept people guessing, never displaying on its branches anything more than a fe hite floers no and then. /his plant as my father"s only concern. ,e hardly ever looked up at the si# tall coconut trees that aved in the sky. /hey ere my mother"s responsibility and $rand'untie"s, ho regularly had their tops cleared of beetles and ithered shoots, sent up a climber once a month, and filled the granary ith large ripe coconuts. /here ere also pumpkins groing in the back yard, and large creepers covered the entire thatched roof of a coshed hich once, years before, used to house four of Malgudi"s bestbred cos.'fter my father"s death my mother lived ith me until &abu as a year old, and then she decided to go and live ith my brother at Madras, taking aay ith her her life5companion. $rand'untie. 'nd I, ith my ife and little &abu, became the sole occupant of our house in Kabir (treet.ive hundred7 're you sure you need five hundred visiting cards4 ive8ear 1lan. ?asu, ho had .ust come in to collect some stationery, listened to his talk for a moment and, turning to me, asked, -0ho"s he4 8ou have not told me his name.--' good friend,- I said, and e#plained something about him.?asu shook his head patroni9ingly. -If he is so much iser than Nehru, hy don"t he try and become the 1rime Minister of India4-/his brought forth a fitting reply from the .ournalist, ho dre himself up haughtily and cried, -0ho is this man4 0hy does he interfere ith me hen I am talking to someone4 Is there no freedom of speech4-?asu said, -If you feel superior to Nehru, hy don"t you go to *elhi and take charge of the cabinet4- and laughed contemptuously.0ords folloed, the .ournalist got up in anger, and ?asu advanced threateningly. I came beteen them ith a sho of bravery, dreading lest someone should hit me. I cried, -'ll are friends here. I on"t allo a fight. Not here, not here.--/hen here4- asked ?asu.I replied, -Nohere.--I don"t ant to be insulted, that"s all,- said the bully.-I am not going to be frightened by anyone"s muscle or si9e. *o you threaten to hit me4- (en cried. I as in a panic. ,e pushed me aay and stepped up to ?asu.-No, sir,- said ?asu, recoiling. -Not unless I"m hit first.- ,e raised his fist and flourished it. -I could settle many problems ith this. &ut I don"t55if I hit you ith it, it ill be the end of you. &ut it doesn"t mean I may not kick.-?asu often sat in my parlor and e#panded on his philosophy of human conduct. -Natara.7- he ould suddenly say. -%ife is too short to have a ord ith everyone in this land of threehundredodd millions. One has to ignore most people.- I kne it as .ust a fancy speech and nothing more, because his nature ould not let him leave anyone in peace. ,e"d ilt if he could not find some poor man to bully all day. /here as no stopping him from interesting himself in others. If he found someone knon to him, lie taunted him. If he met a stranger, he bluntly demanded, -0ho is he4 8ou have not told me his name7- No mahara.a finding a ragged commoner andering in the halls of his durbar ould have adopted a more authoritative tone in asking, -0ho is this4-?asu"s habit of using my front room as an e#tension of his attic as irksome, as I had my on visitors, not to speak of the permanent pair, the poet and the .ournalist.>or a fe days (en and the poet cleared out the moment they heard the .eep arrive, hut gradually their vies underent a change. 0hen ?asu came in, (en stuck to his seat ith an air of defiance, as if saying, -I"m not going to let a beefy fello..-/he poet transferred himself ithout fuss from the highbacked +ueen 'nne chair to a poorer seat and developed the art of surviving ?asu"s presence! he maintained a great silence but, if forced to speak, he confined himself to monosyllables 2at hich he as an adept in any case3, and I as glad to note that ?asu had a lot of things on his mind and had no time for more than a couple of nasty personal remarks, hich the poet pretended not to hear.(en suppressed the e#pression of his political opinions hen ?asu as there 2hich as a good tiling again3.&ut it did not save him, as ?asu, the moment he remembered his presence, said, -0hat are the vies of our ise friend on this4- /o hich (en gave a fitting reply, such as, -If people are dense enough not to kno hat is happening around, I"m not prepared to . . .- et cetera, et cetera. /his ould act as a starting point for a battle of ords, but it never came, as on the first day, to nearblos55it .ust fi99led out. I left them all alone.If they rangled and lost their heads and lost control of their voices, it as purely their business and not mine. Even if heads got broken, I don"t think I"d have interfered. I had resigned myself to anything. If I had anted a peaceful e#istence, I should have re.ected ?asu on the very first day. No it as like having a middleaged maneater in your office and home, ith the same uncertainties and the same potentialities./his maneater softened, sniveled and purred, and tried to be agreeable only in official presence. One day he brought in a khakiclad, cadaverous man, a forestry official, seated him, and introduced me to him. -/his is my best friend on earth55Mr. Natara.. ,e and I are more like brothers than a printer and customer or landlord and tenant.--'ctually, I am not a landlord, don"t ant to be one,- I said, remembering ho much more at peace I used to be hen my attic as tenanted by .unk. 0oe unto the day I got the idea of cleaning it up.?asu said, -Even among brothers, business should be business.--/rue, true,- said the forester.No ?asu turned to the art of flattery. I never could have guessed his potentialities in this direction. ,e declaimed, -I have brought Mr.... because I ant you to kno him. ,e is a very busy man, but he came here ith me today.--*o you stay in the forest4-&efore the forester could speak, ?asu ansered, -,e is Mempi >orest. ,e is everything there. ,e knos and has numbered every beast that"s there! and he has no fear. If he as a coard he"d not have been in this department, you kno hat I mean4-/he forester felt that it as time for him to put in a ord about himself. -I have put in thirty years in the department. /hey gave me a third e#tension in my service only to eeks ago.--(ee ho he looks4 or instance the kind of ork like our friend"s here55$olden /houghts55the right place for it ould be the original ,eidelberg55lovely machine. 0hat do you say, sir4- I said, turning to the man. ,aving spent a lifetime ith ouldbe authors I kne their vanities from ' to E./he forester said, -8es, I ant the best service possible. /he book should look very nice6 I ant to send a specially bound copy to our chief conservator at *elhi through our chief at Madras.--(o you ant to special copies4- I asked.-8es, yes,- lie agreed readily.I looked through the pages of the manuscript. ,e had culled epigrammatic sentiments and morali9ings from all sources55&hagavad$ita, :panishads, (hakespeare, Mahatina $andhi, &ible, Emerson, %ord 'vebury, and inding that perhaps this layer as feeling too sympathetic to my enemy, I tried to in him over by saying, -8ou remember that day hen you came to print the edding invitation, and ho he pulled me out and left you55that"s ho he does everything. 8ou no understand hat he is capable of4-/hat pre.udiced his mind. ,e reflected ith some bitterness. -'nd I had to sit there and aste a hole day to no purpose7- ,e spoke to me on many legal technicalities and took charge of my paper. ,e pulled out of his draer a sheet of paper and took my signature. /hen he put aay the hole thing ith relief.-I"ll deal ith it! don"t orry yourself any more about it. ,o much money have you no4--Not an anna,- I said, and shoed him my pocket to prove it. ,e looked gloomy at my bankruptcy.-I ould not charge more than a minimum, you kno. (ome routine charges have to be paid55stamp charges, affidavit charges, and coffee charges for the bench clerk. ,e is the man to help us, you kno.--Oh, ho4--*on"t ask )uestions. No I"m ondering ho to pay these charges55 absolutely nominal, you kno. If you can spare about five rupees55--I thought since55since you have55you might ad.ust your account ith me.-,e thre up his arms in horror. -Oh, no, never mi# up accounts. /o different things, absolutely different situations. *on"t mi# up accounts. 0hatever else you may do. It alays leads to trouble. irst things first.- ,e studied the sheet of paper intently. -/he summons is for eleven a. m. tomorro, /uesday the tentyfourth! today is Monday the tentythird. It is tenthirty no. I must file your application for nonappearance almost at once. /he rule gives tentyfour hours if a summons is to be nonresponded. It ould have been a different matter if you had dodged the summons. *id you sign that little paper the fello had4--8es, of course.--'h, ine#perience, ine#perience,- he cried. -8ou should have consulted me before touching it or looking at it.--I had no idea it as coming,- I said, putting into it all the shock I had felt at ?asu"s treachery.-/hat"s true, that"s true,- he said. -8ou must have thought it as some printing business from the district court, ha4--No, is that all4- I asked.-,m, yes,- he said. -I can alays depend upon the bench clerk to help me. I"ll do hat I can. 8ou must feel happy if you are not on the list tomorro. I"ll have to plead that BKou are aay and need more time or notice.--&ut everybody can see me at my press,- I said.-Oh, yes, that"s a point. &ut ho can the court take cogni9ance if you are there4 In any event, it"ll be better if you don"t make yourself too conspicuous during the hours of the court sitting.--E#cept hen I am called out, I"m most times behind the blue curtain,- I said.-/hat"s good, it is alays helpful,- he said.-'nd hat"s the ne#t step4--8ou ill be free at least for four eeks. Rent court is rather overorked noadays. /hey on"t be able to reissue the summons for at least four eeks,- he said. I felt grateful to the man for saving my neck for four eeks! and no he added a doubt. -1erhaps the complainant ill file an ob.ection.--,e may also say that I"ve not gone anyhere, as he lives right over my head.--&ut the court is not bound to take cogni9ance of hat he says. It"s not that ay that your mala fides can be established.-I didn"t understand hat he meant.-I have some ork no,- I said apologetically. I did not ant to hurt his feelings ith the least hint that I didn"t like to be kept standing there hile he talked! though as a matter of fact my legs ere paining.-8ou may go,- he said grandly. -I"ll be back home at three o"clock. I ill manage it all someho. If you are sending anyone at all to my house, send an envelope ith ten rupees in it. 'nyay, I"ll give you a complete accounting hen it is all over.-/he proof of the layer"s handiork6 I as sitting unscathed at my press, printing threecolor labels, on the day folloing my * *ay. I gladly sent him ten rupees through (astri. ,e ould account for it all at the end. I as not to mi# up accounts. $reat ords of isdom, it seemed to me in my fevered state.ifteen days passed uneventfully. 0e left each other alone. I heard ?asu come and go. ,is .eep ould arrive at the yard! I could hear that mighty fist pulling the brake, and feet stumping upstairs. 'rnid all his impossible )ualities, lie had .ust one virtue6 he didn"t try to come to my part of the building! he arrived and departed as he liked. Only the stench of drying leather as on the increase. It disturbed the neighborhood. I had a visitor from the health department one fine day55a man in khaki uniform. ,e as a sanitary inspector hose main business as to try to keep the city clean, a hard .ob for a man in a place like Malgudi, here the individual .ealously guarded his right to independent action./he sanitary inspector occasionally came to my press and sat )uietly in a chair hen his limbs ached from too much supervision of the Market Road. ,e ould take off his pith helmet 2I think he as the only one in the hole ton ho had such headgear, having picked it up at an army disposal store3, place it on the chair ne#t to him, ipe his bro ith a checked colored handkerchief, sigh, and pant and call for a glass of ater. I could not say he as a friend, but a friendly man. /oday he leaned his bicycle on the front step of my press and came in, saying, -/here is a complaint against you.- ,e produced from his pocket an envelope, took out a sheet of paper, and held it to me.I as beginning to dread the sight of bron envelopes noadays. ' .oint petition from my neighbors, signed by half a do9en names, had been presented to the municipal authority. /hey complained that on my terrace they noticed strange activities55animal hides being tanned! the petitioners pointed out that tanning and curing of skins as prohibited in a residential area as it gave rise to bad odor and insanitary surroundings. /hey also complained of carrion birds hovering around my terrace. One part of my mind admired my neighbors for caring so much for sanitation, hile the rest of it as sei9ed ith cold despair.I re)uested the inspector to take a seat and asked hat he e#pected me to do. ,e said, - 'NIM'% 0E%>'RE, 0OR%* +. R. %. 20orld +uadruped Relief %eague,