ONE

OUTOF
MANY
A story by V S.Naipaul

the monsoon, I preferred to sleep on the pavement

with my friends, although in our chambers a whole
cupboard below the staircase was reserved for my
personal use.
It was good after a healthy night in the open to
rise before the sun and before the sweepers came.
Sometimes 1 saw the streetlights go off. Bedding
was rolled up; no one spoke much; and soon my
friends were hurrying in silent competition to se­
cluded lanes and alleys and open lots to relieve
themselves. I was spared this competition; in our
chambers I had facilities. Afterwards for half an
hour or so I was free simply to stroll. I liked
walking beside the Arabian Sea, waiting for the
sun to come up. Then the city and the ocean gleamed
like gold. Alas for those morning walks, that sud­
den ocean dazzle, the moist salt breeze on my face,
am now an American citizen and I live in Wash­ the flap of my shirt, that first cup of hot sweet tea

I ington, capital of the world. Many people, both

here and in India, will feel that 1 have done
well. But.
I was so happy in Bombay. I was respected, I
from a stall, the taste of the first leaf cigarette.
Observe the workings of fate. The respect I
enjoyed was due to the importance of my employer.
It was this very importance which now all at once
destroyed the pattern of my life.
had a certain position. I worked for an important
man. The highest in the land came to our bachelor My employer was seconded by his firm to govern­
chambers and enjoyed my food and showered com­ ment service and was posted to Washington. I was
pliments on me. I also had my friends. We met in happy for his sake but frightened for mine. He
the evenings on the pavement below the gallery was to be away for some years, and there was no­
of our chambers. Some of us, like the tailor’s bearer body in Bombay he could second me to. Soon,
and myself, were domestics who lived in the street. therefore, I was to be out of a job and out of the
The others were people who came to that bit of chambers. For many years I had considered my
pavement to sleep. Respectable people; we didn’t life as settled. I had served my apprenticeship, known
encourage riffraff. my hard times. I didn’t feel I could start again. I
In the evenings it was cool. There were few despaired. Was there a job for me in Bombay? I
passersby, and apart front an occasional double- saw myself having to return to my village in the
decker bus or taxi, little traffic. The pavement was hills, to my wife and children there, not just for a
swept and sprinkled, bedding brought out from holiday but for good. 1 saw myself again becoming
daytime hiding places, little oil lamps lit. While the a porter during the tourist season, racing after the
folk upstairs chattered and laughed, on the pave­ buses as they arrived at the station and shouting
ment we read newspapers, played cards, told stories, with forty or fifty others for luggage. Indian luggage,
and smoked. The clay pipe passed from friend to not this lightweight American stuff. Heavy metal
friend; we became drowsy. Except, of course, during trunks!

71
 I could have cried. It was no longer the sort smiling when she saw me. She made me go right
of life for which I was fitted. I had grown soft in to the back of the plane, far from my employer.
Bombay; I was no longer young. I had acquired Most of the seats there were empty, though, and I
possessions; I was used to the privacy of my cup­ was able to spread my bundles around, and, well,
board. I had become a city man, used to certain it was comfortable.
comforts. It was bright and hot outside, it was cool inside.
My employer said, “Washington is not Bombay, The plane started, rose up in the air, and Bombay
Santosh. Washington is expensive. Even if I was and the ocean tilted this way and that. It was very
able to raise your fare, you wouldn’t be able to nice. When we settled down I looked around for
live over there in anything like your present style.” people like myself, but I could see no one among
But to be barefoot in the hills, after Bombay! the Indians or the foreigners who looked like a
The shock, the disgrace! I couldn’t face my friends. domestic. Worse, they were all dressed as though
I stopped sleeping on the pavement and spent as they were going to a wedding, and, brother, I soon
much of my free time as possible in my cupboard saw it wasn’t they who were conspicuous. I was in
among my possessions, as among things which were my ordinary Bombay clothes, the loose long-tailed
soon to be taken from me. shirt, the wide-waisted pants held up with a piece
My employer said, “Santosh, my heart bleeds of string. Perfectly respectable domestic’s wear,
for you.” neither dirty nor clean, and in Bombay no one
I said, “Sahib, if I look a little concerned it is would have looked. But now on the plane I felt heads
only because I worry about you. You have always turning whenever I stood up.
been fussy, and I don’t see how you will manage I was anxious. I slipped off my shoes, tight and
in Washington.” uncomfortable even without the laces, and drew
“It won’t be easy. But it’s the principle. Does my feet up on the seat. That made me feel better.
the representative of a poor country like ours travel I made myself a little betel nut and that made me
about with his cook? Will that create a good im­ feel better still. Half the pleasure of chewing betel
pression?” nut, though, is the spitting; and it was only when I
“You will always do what is right, sahib.” had worked up a good mouthful that I saw I had a
He went silent. problem. The airline girl saw too. That girl didn’t like
After some days he said, “There’s not only the me at all. She shouted at me. My mouth was full, my
expense, Santosh. There’s the question of foreign cheeks were bursting. I couldn’t say anything; I
exchange. Our rupee isn’t what it was.” could only look at her. She went and called a man in
“I understand, sahib. Duty is duty.” uniform, and he came and stood over me. I put my
A fortnight later, when I had almost given up shoes back on and swallowed the betel juice. It made
hope, he said, “Santosh, I have consulted Govern­ me feel quite ill.
ment. You will accompany me. Government has The girl and the man, the two of them, pushed
sanctioned, will arrange accommodation. But no a little trolley of drinks down the aisle. The girl
expenses. You will get your passport and your P didn’t look at me, but the man said, “You want a
form. But I want you to think, Santosh. Washing­ drink, chum?” He wasn’t a bad fellow. I pointed
ton is not Bombay.” at random to a bottle. It was a kind of soda drink,
I went down to the pavement that night with my nice and sharp at first but then not so nice. I was
bedding. worrying about it when the girl said, “Five shillings
I said, blowing down my shirt, “Bombay gets sterling or sixty cents U.S.” That took me by sur­
hotter and hotter.” prise. I had no money, only a few rupees. The girl
“Do you know what you are doing?” the tailor’s stamped, and I thought she was going to hit me
bearer said. “Will the Americans smoke with you? with her pad when I stood up to show her who my
Will they sit and talk with you in the evenings? Will employer was.
they hold you by the hand and walk with you be­ Presently my employer came down the aisle. He
side the ocean?” didn’t look very well. He said, without stopping,
It pleased me that he was jealous. My last days “Champagne, Santosh? Already we are overdoing?”
in Bombay were very happy. He went on to the lavatory. When he passed back
he said, “Foreign exchange, Santosh! Foreign ex­
change!” That was all. Poor fellow, he was suffering
packed my employer’s two suitcases and bun­ too.

I dled up my own belongings in lengths of old

cotton. At the airport they made a fuss about my

gage for the hold because they didn’t like the respon­
The journey became miserable for me. Soon, with
the wine I had drunk, the betel juice, the movement
bundles. They said they couldn’t accept them as lug­ and noise of the airplane, I was vomiting all over
my bundles, and I didn’t care what the girl said
sibility. So when the time came I had to climb up or did. Eater there were more urgent and terrible
to the aircraft with all my bundles. The girl at the needs. I felt I would choke in the tiny, hissing room
top, who was smiling at everybody else, stopped at the back. I had a shock when I saw my face in

72
 One Out of Many

the mirror. In the fluorescent light it was the color bay. Of that drive I remember green fields, wide
of a corpse. My eyes were strained, the sharp air roads, many motorcars traveling fast, making a
hurt my nose and seemed to get into my brain. I steady hiss, hiss, which wasn’t at all like our Bom­
climbed up on the lavatory seat and squatted. I bay traffic noise. I remember big buildings and wide
lost control of myself. As quickly as I could I ran parks; many bazaar areas; then smaller houses with­
back out into the comparative openness of the out fences and with gardens like bush, with the
cabin and hoped no one had noticed. The lights hubshi standing about or sitting down, more usually
were dim now; some people had taken off their sitting down, everywhere. Especially I remember the
jackets and were sleeping. I hoped the plane would hubshi. I had heard about them in stories and had
crash. seen one or two in Bombay. But I had never dreamt
The girl woke me up. She was almost screaming. that this wild race existed in such numbers in Wash­
“It’s you, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” ington and were permitted to roam the streets so
I thought she was going to tear the shirt off me. freely. Oh, father, what was this place I had come
I pulled back and leaned hard on the window. She to?
burst into tears and nearly tripped on her sari as I wanted to be in the open, to breathe, to come
she ran up the aisle to get the man in uniform. to myself, to reflect. But there was to be no open­
Nightmare. And all I knew was that somewhere ness for me that evening. From the airplane to the
at the end, after the airports and the crowded lounges airport building to the motorcar to the apartment
where everybody was dressed up, after all those block to the elevator to the corridor to the apart­
takeoffs and touchdowns, was the city of Washington. ment itself, I was forever enclosed, forever in the
I wanted the journey to end, but I couldn’t say I hissing, hissing sound of air-conditioners.
wanted to arrive at Washington. I was already a I was too dazed to take stock of the apartment. I
little scared of that city, to tell the truth. I wanted saw it as only another halting place. My employer
only to be off the plane, to be in the open again, to went to bed at once, completely exhausted, poor
stand on the ground and breathe and to try to under­ fellow. I looked around for my own room. I couldn’t
stand what time of day it was. find it and gave up. Aching for the Bombay
At last we arrived. I was in a daze. The burden of ways, I spread my bedding in the carpeted corridor
those bundles! There were more closed rooms and just outside our apartment door. The corridor was
electric lights. There were questions from officials. long: doors, doors; the illuminated ceiling was deco­
“Is he diplomatic?” rated with stars of different sizes; the colors were
“He’s only a domestic,” my employer said. gray and blue and gold. Below that imitation sky
“Is that his luggage? What’s in that pocket?” I felt like a prisoner.
I was ashamed.
“Santosh,” my employer said.
I pulled out the little packets of pepper and salt, n the morning my employer said, “We must
the sweets, the envelopes with scented paper nap­
kins, the toy tubes of mustard. Airline trinkets. I
had been collecting them throughout the journey,
seizing a handful, whatever my condition, every time
I talk about money, Santosh. Your salary is
one hundred rupees a month. But Washington
isn’t Bombay. Everything is a little bit more expen­
sive here, and I am going to give you a dearness
I passed the galley. allowance. As from today you are getting one hun­
“He’s a cook,” my employer said. dred and fifty rupees.”
“Does he always travel with his condiments?” “Sahib.”
“Santosh, Santosh,” my employer said in the car “And I’m giving you a fortnight’s pay in advance.
afterwards, “in Bombay it didn’t matter what you In foreign exchange. Seventy-five rupees. Ten cents
did. Over here you represent your country. I must to the rupee, seven hundred and fifty cents. Seven
say I cannot understand why your behavior has fifty U.S. Here, Santosh. This afternoon you go
already gone so much out of character.” out and have a little walk and enjoy. But be careful.
“I am sorry, sahib.” We are not among friends, remember.”
“Look at it like this, Santosh. Over here you So at last, rested, with money in my pocket, I went
don’t only represent your country, you represent out in the open. And of course the city wasn’t a quar­
me.” ter as frightening as I had thought. The buildings
For the people of Washington it was late after­ weren’t particularly big, not all the streets were
noon or early evening, I couldn’t say which. The busy, and there were many lovely trees. A lot of
time and the light didn’t match, as they did in Bom- the hubshi were about, very wild-looking some of
them, with dark glasses and their hair frizzed out,
V. S. Naipaul is the author of several novels and books but it seemed that if you didn’t trouble them, they
of short stories, including An Area of Darkness, The
Mimic Men, and The Loss of El Dorado. “One Out of didn’t attack you.
Many” is a shortened form of a story which will appear I was looking for a cafe or a tea stall where per­
in Mr. Naipaul’s forthcoming book, In a Free State, haps domestics congregated. But I saw no domestics,
to be published by Knopf. and I was chased away from the place I did eventu-

73
 ally go into. The girl said, after I had been waiting ment block. Many more of the hubshi were about
some time, “Can’t you read? We don’t serve hippies now, and I saw that where they congregated the
or bare feet here.” pavement was wet and dangerous with broken glass
Oh, father! I had come out without my shoes. and bottles. I couldn’t think of cooking when I got
But what a country, I thought, walking briskly away, back to the apartment. I couldn’t bear to look at the
where people are never allowed to dress normally view. I spread my bedding in the cupboard, lay
but must forever wear their very best! Why must down in the darkness, and waited for my employer
they wear out shoes and fine clothes for no purpose? to return.
What occasion are they honoring? What waste, When he did, I said, “Sahib, I want to go home.”
what presumption! Who do they think is noticing “Santosh, I’ve paid five thousand rupees to bring
them all the time? you here. If I send you back now, you will have to
And even while these thoughts were in my head work for six or seven years without salary to pay me
I found I had come to a roundabout with trees and back.”
a fountain where— and it was like a fulfillment in a I burst into tears.
dream, not easy to believe— there were many people “My poor Santosh, something has happened. Tell
who looked like my own people. I tightened the me what has happened.”
string around my loose pants, held down my flapping “Sahib, I’ve spent more than half the advance you
shirt, and ran through the traffic to the green circle. gave me this morning. I went out and had a coffee
Some of the hubshi were there, playing musical in­ and cake and then I went to a movie.”
struments and looking quite happy in their way. His eyes went small and twinkly behind his glasses.
There were some Americans sitting about on the He bit the inside of his top lip, scraped at his mus­
grass and the fountain and the culvert. Many of them tache with his lower teeth, and he said, “You see, you
were in rough, friendly-looking clothes, some were see. I told you it was expensive.”
without shoes. But it wasn’t these people who had I understood I was a prisoner. I accepted this and
attracted me to the circle. It was the dancers. The adjusted. I learned to live within the apartment, and
men were bearded, bare-footed, and in saffron robes, I was even calm.
the girls were in saris and canvas shoes that looked My employer was a man of taste, and he soon had
like our own Bata shoes. They were shaking little the apartment looking like something in a magazine,
cymbals and chanting and lifting their heads up and with books and Indian paintings and Indian fabrics
down and going around in a circle, making a lot of and pieces of sculpture and bronze statues of our
dust. It was a little bit like a Red Indian dance in a gods. I was careful to take no delight in it. It was of
cowboy movie, but they were chanting Sanskrit course very pretty, especially with the view. But the
words in praise of Lord Krishna. view remained foreign, and I never felt that the
I didn’t stay. Not far from the circle I saw a cafe apartment was real, like the shabby old Bombay
which appeared to be serving people in bare feet. I chambers with the cane chairs, or that it had any­
went in, had a coffee and a nice piece of cake, and thing to do with me.
bought a pack of cigarettes; matches they gave me When people came to dinner I did my duty. At
free with the cigarettes. It was all right, but then the the appropriate time I would bid the company good­
bare feet began looking at me, and one bearded night, close off the kitchen behind its folding screen,
fellow came and sniffed loudly at me and smiled and and pretend I was leaving the apartment. Then I
spoke some sort of gibberish, and then some others would lie down quietly in my cupboard and smoke.
of the bare feet came and sniffed at me. They weren’t I was free to go out; T had my separate entrance. But
unfriendly, but I didn’t appreciate the behavior; and I didn’t like being out of the apartment. I didn’t even
it was a little frightening to find, when I left the like going down to the laundry room in the basement.
place, that two or three of them appeared to be Once or twice a week I went to the supermarket
following me. I didn’t want to take any chances. I on our street. I always had to walk past groups of
passed a cinema; I went in. It was something I hubshi men and children. I tried not to look, but it
wanted to do anyway. In Bombay I used to go once was hard. They sat on the pavement, on steps, and in
a week. the bush and rubbish around their red-brick houses,
And that was all right. The movie had already some of which had boarded-up windows. They ap­
started. It was in English, not too easy for me to peared to be very much a people of the open air,
follow, and it gave me time to think. It was only with little to do; even in the mornings some of the
there, in the darkness, that I thought about the men were drunk. Scattered among the hubshi houses
money I had been spending. The prices had seemed were others just as old but with gas lamps that
to me very reasonable, like Bombay prices. Three for burned night and day in the entrance. These were the
the movie ticket, one fifty in the cafe, with tip. But I houses of the Americans. I seldom saw these people;
had been thinking in rupees and paying in dollars. In they didn’t spend too much time on the street. The
less than an hour I had spent nine days’ pay. lighted gas lamp was the American way of saying
I couldn’t watch the movie anymore. I went out­ that though a house looked old outside, it was nice
side and began to make my way back to the apart­ and new inside; I also felt that it was like a warning
74
to the hubshi to keep off. Outside the supermarket
there was always a policeman with a gun. Inside,
there were always a couple of hubshi guards with
truncheons, and behind the cashiers, some old hubshi
beggar men in rags. There were also many young
hubshi boys, small but muscular, waiting to carry
parcels, as once in the hills I had waited to carry
Indian tourists’ luggage.
One day at the supermarket, when the hubshi girl
took my money, she sniffed, and said, “You always
smell sweet, baby.”
She was friendly, and I was at last able to clear
up that mystery of my smell. It was the poor country
weed I smoked. It was a peasant taste of which I
was slightly ashamed, to tell the truth; but the cashier
was encouraging. As it happened, I had brought a
quantity of the weed with me from Bombay in one of
my bundles, together with a hundred razor blades,
believing both weed and blades to be purely Indian
things. I made an offering to the girl. In return she
taught me a few words of English. “Me black and
beautiful” was the first thing she taught me. Then she
pointed to the policeman with the gun outside and
taught me: “He pig.”
My English lessons were taken a stage further by
the hubshi maid who worked for someone on our
floor in the apartment block. She too was attracted
by my smell, but I soon began to feel that she was
also attracted by my smallness and strangeness. She
herself was a big woman, broad in the face, with
high cheeks and bold eyes and lips that were full wasn’t to consider my looks but to check whether
but not pendulous. Her largeness disturbed me; I the barber had cut off too much hair or whether a
found it better to concentrate on her face. She mis­ pimple was about to burst. Slowly I made a dis­
understood; there were times when she frolicked with covery. My face was handsome. I had never thought
me in a violent way. I didn’t like it, because I of myself in this way. I had thought of myself as
couldn’t fight her off as well as I would have liked, unnoticeable, with features that served as identifica­
and because in spite of myself I was fascinated by her tion alone.
appearance. The discovery of my good looks brought its strains.
She was always coming into the apartment. She I became obsessed with my appearance, with a wish
disturbed me while I was watching the Americans to see myself. It was like an illness. I would be
on television. I feared the smell she left behind. watching television, for instance, and I would be sur­
Sweat, perfume, my own weed: the smells lay thick prised by the thought: Are you as handsome as that
in the room, and I prayed to the bronze gods my em­ man? I would have to get up and go to the bathroom
ployer had installed as living-room ornaments tbat and look in the mirror. I thought back to the time
I would not be dishonored. Dishonored, I say; and I when these matters hadn’t interested me, and I saw
know that this might seem strange to people over how ragged I must have looked on the airplane, in
here, who have permitted the hubshi to settle among the airport, in that cafe for bare feet, with the rough
them in such large numbers and must therefore and dirty clothes I wore, without doubt or question,
esteem them in certain ways. But in our country we as clothes befitting a servant. I was choked with
frankly do not care for the hubshi. It is written in shame. I saw, too, how good people in Washington
our books, both holy and not so holy, that it is in­ had been, to have seen me in rags and yet to have
decent and wrong for a man of our blood to embrace taken me for a man.
the hubshi woman. To be dishonored in this life, I became more careful of my appearance. There
to be born a cat or a monkey in the next! wasn’t much I could do. I bought laces for my old
But I was falling. Was it idleness and solitude? I black shoes, socks, a belt. Then some money came
was found attractive; I wanted to know why. I began my way. I had understood that the weed I smoked
to go to the bathroom of the apartment simply to was of value to the hubshi and the bare feet; I dis­
study my face in the mirror. I cannot easily believe it posed of what I had, disadvantageously as I now
myself now, but in Bombay a week or a month could know, through the hubshi girl at the supermarket.
pass without my looking in the mirror; and then it I got just under two hundred dollars. Then, as

75
anxiously as I had got rid of ray weed, I went out It was cool in the apartment; the air-conditioning
and bought some clothes. always hummed; but I could see that it was hot out­
I still have the things I bought that morning. A side, like one of our own summer days in the hills.
green hat, a green suit. The suit was always too big The urge came upon me to dress as I might have
for me. Ignorance, inexperience; but I also remember done in my village on a religious occasion. In one of
the feeling of presumption. The salesman wanted to my bundles I had a dhoti-length of new cotton, a
talk, to do his job. I didn’t want to listen. I took thegift from the tailor’s bearer that I had never used.
first suit he showed me and went into the cubicle and I draped this around my waist and between my legs,
changed. I couldn’t think about size and fit. When I lit incense sticks, sat down cross-legged on the floor,
considered all that cloth and all that tailoring I was and tried to meditate and become still. Soon I began
proposing to adorn my simple body with, that body to feel hungry. That made me happy; I decided to
that needed so little, I felt I was asking to be de­ fast.
stroyed. I changed back quickly, went out of the Unexpectedly my employer came in. I didn’t mind
cubicle, and said I would take the green suit. The being caught in the attitude and garb of prayer; it
salesman began to talk; I cut him short; I asked for a could have been so much worse. But I wasn’t expect­
hat. When I got back to the apartment I felt weak ing him till the late afternoon.
and had to lie down for a while in my cupboard. “Santosh, what has happened?”
I never hung the suit up. Even in the shop, even Pride got the better of me. I said, “Sahib, it is what
while counting out the precious dollars, I had known I do from time to time.”
it was a mistake. I kept the suit folded in the box But I didn’t find merit in his eyes. He was far too
with all its pieces of tissue paper. Three or four timesagitated to notice me properly. He took off his light­
I put it on and walked about the apartment and sat weight fawn jacket, dropped it on the saffron spread,
down on chairs and lit cigarettes and crossed my legs, went to the refrigerator and drank two tumblers of
practicing. But I couldn’t bring myself to wear the orange juice, one after the other. Then he looked out
suit out of doors. at the view, scraping at his mustache.
“Oh, my poor Santosh, what are we doing in this
place? Why do we have to come here?”
few days later I had my adventure. The hubshi My employer turned off the air-conditioning, and

A woman came in, moving among my em-

_ployer’s ornaments like a bull. I was greatly
provoked. The smell was too much; so was the
sight of her armpits. I fell. She dragged me down
all noise was absent from the room. An instant later
I began to hear the noises outside: sirens far and
near. When my employer slid the window open the
roar of the disturbed city rushed into the room. He
on the couch, on the saffron spread which was one closed the window and there was near-silence again.
of my employer’s nicest pieces of Punjabi folk weav­ Not far from the supermarket I saw black smoke,
ing. I saw the moment, helplessly, as one of dis­ uncurling, rising, swiftly turning colorless. This was
honor. I saw her as Kali, goddess of death and de­ not the smoke which some of the apartment blocks
struction, coal black, with a red tongue and white gave off all day. This was the smoke of a real fire.
eyeballs and many powerful arms. I expected her to “The hubshi have gone wild, Santosh. They are
be wild and fierce, but she added insult to injury by burning down Washington.” ,
being very playful, as though, because I was small For four days my employer and I stayed in the
and strange, the act were not real. She laughed all the apartment and watched the city burn. The television
time. I would have liked to withdraw, but the act continued to show us what we could see and what,
took over and completed itself. And then I felt whenever we slid the window back, we could hear.
dreadful. Then it was over. The view from our window hadn’t
I wanted to be forgiven, I wanted to be cleansed, changed. The famous buildings still stood, the trees
I wanted her to go. Nothing frightened me more than remained. But for the first time I found that I wanted
the way she had ceased to be a visitor in the apart­ to be out of the apartment and in the streets.
ment and behaved as though she possessed it. I The destruction lay beyond the supermarket. I
looked at the sculpture and the fabrics and thought had never gone into this part of the city before, and
of my poor employer, suffering in his office some­ it was strange to walk in those long wide streets for
where. the first time, to see trees and houses and shops and
I bathed and bathed afterwards. The smell would advertisements, everything like a real city, and then
not leave me. I fancied that the woman’s oil was still to see that every signboard on every shop was burned
on that poor part of my poor body. It occurred to me or stained with smoke, that the shops themselves
to rub it down with half a lemon. Penance and cleans­ were black and broken, that flames had burst through
ing; but it didn’t hurt as much as I expected, and some of the upper windows and scorched the red
I extended the penance by rolling about naked on bricks. For mile after mile it was like that. There
the floor of the bathroom and the sitting room and were hubshi groups about, and at first when I passed
howling. At last the tears came, real tears, and I was them I pretended to be busy, minding my own busi­
comforted. ness, not at all interested in the ruins. But they

76
 One Out of Many

smiled at me, and I found I was smiling back. Happi­ “What do you think, Santosh? You think it will be
ness was on the faces of the hubshi. They were like all right?”
people amazed that they could do so much, that so “It is bound to be all right, Priya.”
much lay in their power. They were like people on “But I have enemies, you know, Santosh. The
holiday. I shared their exhilaration. Indian restaurant people are not going to appreciate
me. All mine, you know, Santosh. Cash paid. No
mortgage or anything like that. I don’t believe in
he idea of escape was a simple one, but it mortgages. Cash or nothing.”

T hadn’t occurred to me before. When I adjusted

to my imprisonment I had wanted only to get
I understood him to mean that he had tried to get
a mortgage and failed, and was anxious about money.
away from Washington and to return to Bombay. “But what are you doing here, Santosh? You used
But then I had become confused. I had looked in
the mirror and seen myself, and I knew it wasn’t
to be in government or something?”
“You could say that, Priya.”
possible for me to return to Bombay to the sort of “Like me. They have a saying here. If you can’t
job I had had and the life I had lived. I couldn’t easily beat them, join them. I joined them. They are still
become part of someone else’s presence again. Those beating me.” He sighed and spread his arms on the
evening chats on the pavement, those morning walks: top of the red wall seat. “Ah, Santosh, why do we
happy times, but they were like the happy times of do it? Why don’t we renounce and go and meditate
childhood: 1 didn’t want them to return. on the riverbank?” He waved about the room. “The
I had taken, after the fire, to going for long walks yemblems of the world, Santosh. Just yemblems.”
in the city. And one day, when I was just enjoying I didn’t know the English word he used, but I
the sights and my new freedom of movement, I found understood its meaning; and for a moment it was
myself in one of those leafy streets where private like being back in Bombay, exchanging stories and
houses had been turned into business premises. I philosophies with the tailor’s bearer and others in
saw a fellow countryman superintending the raising the evening.
of a signboard on his gallery. The signboard told me “But I am forgetting, Santosh. You will have some
that the building was a restaurant, and I assumed tea or coffee or something?”
that the man in charge was the owner. He looked I shook my head from side to side to indicate that
worried and slightly ashamed, and he smiled at me. I was agreeable, and he called out in a strange harsh
This was unusual, because the Indians I had seen on language to someone behind the kitchen door.
the streets of Washington pretended they hadn’t seen “Yes, Santosh. Yem-blems!” And he sighed and
me; they made me feel that they didn’t like the com­ slapped the red seat hard.
petition of my presence or didn’t want me to start A man came out from the kitchen with a tray. At
asking them difficult questions. first he looked like a fellow countryman, but in a
I complimented the worried man on his signboard second I could tell he was a stranger.
and wished him good luck in his business. He was “You are right,” Priya said, when the stranger
a small man of about fifty, and he was wearing a went back to the kitchen. “He is not of Bharat. He is
double-breasted suit with old-fashioned wide lapels. a Mexican. But what can I do? You get fellow
He had dark hollows below his eyes, and he looked countrymen, you fix up their papers and everything,
as though he had recently lost a little weight. I green card and everything. And then? Then they run
could see that in our country he had been a man of away. Run-run-runaway. Crooks this side, crooks
some standing, not quite the sort of person who that side, I can’t tell you. Listen, Santosh. I was in
would go into the restaurant business. I felt at one cloth business before. Buy for fifty rupees that side,
with him. He invited me in to look around, asked sell for fifty dollars this side. Easy. But then. Caftan,
my name and gave his. It was Priya. everybody wants caftan. Caftan-aftan, I say, I will
Just past the gallery was the loveliest and richest settle your caftan. I buy one thousand, Santosh. De­
room I had ever seen. The wallpaper was like velvet; lays India-side, of course. They come one year later.
I wanted to pass my hand over it. The brass lamps Nobody wants caftan then. We’re not organized, San­
that hung from the ceiling were in a lovely cut-out tosh. We don’t do enough consumer research. That’s
pattern, and the bulbs above them were of many what the fellows at the embassy tell me. But if I do
colors. consumer research, when will I do my business? The
Priya looked with me, and the hollows under trouble, you know, Santosh, is that this shopkeeping
his eyes grew darker, as though my admiration were is not in my blood. The damn thing goes against my
increasing his worry at his extravagance. The restau­ blood. When I was in cloth business, I used to hide
rant hadn’t yet opened for customers, and on a shelf sometimes for shame when a customer came in.
in one corner I saw Priya’s collection of good-luck Sometimes I used to pretend I was a shopper myself.
objects: a brass plate with a heap of uncooked rice, Consumer research! These people make us dance,
for prosperity; a little copybook and a little diary Santosh. You and I, we will renounce. We will go
pencil, for good luck with the accounts; a little clay together and walk beside Potomac and meditate.”
lamp, for general good luck. I loved his talk. I hadn’t heard anything so sweet

77
 and philosophical since the Bombay days. I said, just got green cards. At first I didn’t know what they
“Priya, I will cook for you, if you want a cook.” were talking about. When I understood, I was more
“I feel I’ve known you a long time, Santosh. I feel than depressed.
you are like a member of my own family. I will give I understood that because I had escaped from
you a place to sleep, a little food to eat and a little my employer I had made myself illegal in America.
pocket money, as much as I can afford.” At any moment I could be denounced, seized, jailed,
I said, “Show me the place to sleep.” deported, disgraced. It was a complication. I had no
He led me out of the pretty room and up a car­ green card; I didn’t know how to set about getting
peted staircase. I was expecting the carpet and the one; and there was no one I could talk to.
new paint to stop somewhere, but it was nice and I felt burdened by my secrets. Once I had none;
new all the way. We entered a room that was like now I had so many. I couldn’t tell Priya I had no
a smaller version of my employer’s apartment. green card. I couldn’t tell him I had broken faith
“Built-in cupboards and everything, you see, San­ with my old employer and had dishonored myself
tosh.” with a hubshi woman and lived in fear of retribution.
I went to the cupboard. It had a folding door that I couldn’t tell him that I was afraid to leave the
opened outward. I said, “Priya, it is too small. There restaurant, and that nowadays when I saw an Indian
is room on the shelf for my belongings. But I don’t I hid from him as anxiously as the Indian hid from
see how I can spread my bedding inside here. It is me. I would have felt foolish to confess. With Priya,
far too narrow.” right from the start, I had pretended to be strong;
He giggled nervously. “Santosh, you are a joker. and I wanted it to remain like that. Instead, when
I feel that we are of the same family already.” we talked now, and he grew philosophical, I tried to
Then it came to me that I was being offered the find bigger causes for being sad. My mind fastened
whole room. I was stunned. onto these causes, and the effect of this was that my
Priya looked stunned too. He sat down on the sadness became like a sickness of the soul.
edge of the soft bed. The dark hollows under his It was worse than being in the apartment, because
eyes were almost black, and he looked very small in now the responsibility was mine and mine alone. I
his double-breasted jacket. “This is how they make had decided to be free, to act for myself. It pained
us dance over here, Santosh. You say staff quarters me to think of the exhilaration I had felt during the
and they say staff quarters. This is what they mean.” days of the fire; and I felt mocked when I remem­
For some seconds we sat silently, I fearful, he bered that in the early days of my escape I had
gloomy, each of us meditating on the ways of this thought I was in charge of myself.
new world.
Priya paid me forty dollars a week. After what I
was getting, three dollars and seventy-five cents, it ne of the Mexican waiters came into the
seemed a lot; and it was more than enough for my
needs. I didn’t have much temptation to spend, to
tell the truth. I knew that my old employer and the
hubshi woman would be wondering about me in their
O kitchen late one evening and said, “There is
a man outside who wants to see the chef.”
No one had made this request before, and Priya
was at once agitated. “Is he an American? Some
respective ways, and I thought I should keep off the enemy has sent him here. Sanitary-anitary, health-
streets for a while. That was no hardship; it was what ealth, they can inspect my kitchens at any time.”
I was used to in Washington. Besides, my days at the “He is an Indian,” the Mexican said.
restaurant were pretty full; for the first time in my life I was alarmed. I thought it was my old employer;
I had little leisure. that quiet approach was like him. Priya thought it
The restaurant was a success from the start, and was a rival. Though Priya regularly ate in the restau­
Priya was fussy. He was always bursting into the rants of his rivals, he thought it unfair when they
kitchen with a big menu in his hand, saying in Eng­ came to eat in his. We both went to the door and
lish, “Prestige job, Santosh, prestige.” I didn’t mind. peeked through the glass window into the dimly lit
I liked to feel I had to do things perfectly; I felt I dining room.
was earning my freedom. Though I was in hiding, “Do you know that person, Santosh?”
and though I worked every day until midnight, I felt “Yes, sahib.”
I was much more in charge of myself than I had It wasn’t my old employer. It was one of his
ever been. Bombay friends, a big man in government, whom I
Many of our waiters were Mexicans, but when we had often served in the chambers. He was by himself
put turbans on them they could pass. They came and and seemed to have just arrived in Washington. He
went, like the Indian staff. I didn’t get on with these had a new Bombay haircut, very close, and a stiff
people. They were frightened and jealous of one an­ dark suit, Bombay tailoring. His shirt looked blue,
other and very treacherous. Their talk amid the but in the dim multicolored light of the dining room
biryanis and the pilafs was all of papers and green everything white looked blue. He didn’t look un­
cards. They were always about to get green cards or happy with what he had eaten. Both his elbows were
they had been cheated out of green cards or they had on the curry-spotted tablecloth, and he was picking

78
 One Out of Many

his teeth, half-closing his eyes and hiding his mouth “Sahib.”
with his cupped left hand. “I lied, Santosh. To protect you. I told him, San­
“I don’t like him,” Priya said. “Still, big man in tosh, that I was going to give you seventy-five dollars
government and so on. You must go to him, San- a week after Christmas.”
tosh.” “Sahib.”
But I couldn’t go. “And now I have to make that lie true. But,
“Put on your apron, Santosh. And that chef’s cap. Santosh, you know that is money we can’t afford. 1
Prestige. You must go, Santosh.” don’t have to tell you about overheads and things like
Priya went out to the dining room, and I heard that. Santosh, I will give you sixty.”
him say in English that I was coming. I said, “Sahib, I couldn’t stay on for less than a
I ran up to my room, put some oil on my hair, hundred and twenty-five.”
combed my hair, put on my best pants and shirt Priya’s eyes went shiny and the hollows below his
and my shining shoes. It was so, as a man about eyes darkened. He giggled and pressed out his lips.
town rather than as a cook, I went to the dining At the end of that week I got a hundred dollars. And
Priya, good man that he was, bore me no grudge.
room.
The man from Bombay was as astonished as Priya.
We exchanged the old courtesies, and I waited. But
ne afternoon, Priya came to me and said,

O
to my relief, there seemed little more to say. No diffi­
cult questions were put to me; I was grateful to the “Santosh, some friend brought a parcel for
man from Bombay for his tact. I avoided talk as you.”
much as possible. I smiled. The man from Bombay It was a big parcel wrapped in brown paper.
smiled back. Priya smiled uneasily at both of us. So I took it up to my room and opened it. Inside there
for a while we were, smiling in the dim blue-red light was a cardboard box; and inside that, still in its tissue
and waiting. paper, was my green suit.
The man from Bombay said to Priya, “Brother, 1 felt a hole in my stomach. I couldn’t think. I
I just have a few words to say to my old friend was glad I had to go down almost immediately to the
Santosh.” kitchen, glad to be busy until midnight. But then I
Priya didn’t like it, but he left us. had to go up to my room again, and I was alone. I
I waited for those words. But they were not the hadn’t escaped; 1 had never been free. 1 had been
words I feared. The man from Bombay didn’t speak abandoned. I was like nothing; I had made myself
of my old employer. We continued to exchange nothing. And I couldn’t turn back.
courtesies. Yes, I was well and he was well and In the morning Priya said, “You don’t look very
everybody else we knew was well; and I was doing well, Santosh.”
well and he was doing well. That was all. Then, secre­ His concern weakened me further. He was the
tively, the man from Bombay gave me a dollar. A only man I could talk to, and 1 didn’t know what I
dollar, ten rupees, an enormous tip for Bombay. But, could say to him. 1 felt tears coming to my eyes. At
from him, much more than a tip: an act of gracious­ that moment I would have liked the whole world to
ness, part of the sweetness of the old days. Once it be reduced to tears. 1 said, “Sahib, I cannot stay with
would have meant so much to me. Now it meant so you any longer.”
little. I was saddened and embarrassed. And I had They were just words, part of my mood, my wish
been anticipating hostility! for tears and relief. But Priya didn’t soften. He didn’t
Priya was waiting behind the kitchen door. Elis even look surprised. “Where will you go, Santosh?”
little face was tight and serious, and I knew he had How could I answer his serious question?
seen the money pass. Now, quickly, he read my own “Will it be different where you go?”
face, and without saying anything to me, hurried He had freed himself of me. 1 could no longer
out into the dining room. think of tears. I said, “Sahib, I have enemies.”
I heard him say in English to the man from Bom­ He giggled. “You are a joker, Santosh. How can a
bay, “Santosh is a good fellow. Ele’s got his own man like yourself have enemies? There would be no
room with bath and everything. 1 am giving him a profit in it. / have enemies. It is part of your happi­
hundred dollars a week from next week. A thousand ness and part of the equity of the world that you
rupees a week. This is a first-class establishment.” can’t have enemies. That’s why you can run-run-
A thousand chips a week! I was staggered. It was runaway.” He smiled and made the running gesture
much more than any man in government got, and I with his extended palm.
was sure the man from Bombay was also staggered, So, at last, 1 told him my story. I told him about
and perhaps regretting his good gesture and that my old employer and my escape and the green suit.
precious dollar of foreign exchange. He made me feel I was telling him nothing he hadn’t
“Santosh,” Priya said, when the restaurant closed already known. 1 told him about the hubshi woman.
that evening, “that man was an enemy. I knew it I was hoping for some rebuke. A rebuke would have
from the moment I saw him. And because he was meant that he was concerned for my honor, that I
an enemy I did something very bad, Santosh.” could lean on him, that rescue was possible.

81
 But he said, “Santosh, you have no problems. live in Washington. I am still with Priya. We do not
Marry the hubshi. That will automatically make you talk together as much as we did. The restaurant is
a citizen. Then you will be a free man.” one world, the parks and green streets of Washington
It wasn’t what I was expecting. He was asking me are another, and every evening some of these streets
to be alone forever. I said, “Sahib, I have a wife take me to a third. Burnt-out brick houses, broken
and children in the hills at home.” fences, overgrown gardens; in a leveled lot between
“But this is your home, Santosh. Wife and children the high brick walls of two houses, a sort of artistic
in the hills, that is very nice and that is always there. children’s playground which the hubshi children
But that is over. You have to do what is best for you never use; and then the dark house in which I now
here. You are alone here. Hubshi-ubshi, nobody live. Its smells are strange, everything in it is strange.
worries about that here, if that is your choice. This But my strength in this house is that I am a stranger.
isn’t Bombay. Nobody looks at you when you walk I have closed my mind and heart to the English
down the street. Nobody cares what you do.” language, to newspapers and radio and television, to
He was right. I was a free man; I could do any­ the pictures of hubshi runners and boxers and musi­
thing I wanted. I could, if it were possible for me to cians on the wall. I do not want to understand or
turn back, go to the apartment and beg my old learn anymore.
employer for forgiveness. I could, if it were possible I am a simple man who decided to act and see for
for me to become again what I once was, go to the himself, and it is as though I have had several lives.
police and say, “I am an illegal immigrant here. I do not wish to add to these. Some afternoons I
Please deport me to Bombay.” I could run away, walk to the circle with the fountain. I see the dancers,
hang myself, surrender, confess, hide. It didn’t matter but they are separated from me as by glass. Once,
what I did, because I was alone. And I didn’t know when there were rumors of new burnings, someone
what I wanted to do. It was like the time when I scrawled in white paint on the pavement outside my
felt my senses revive and I wanted to go out and en­ house: Soul Brother. I understand the words; but I
joy and I found there was nothing to enjoy. feel, brother to what or to whom? I was once part of
I said, “Sahib, you must excuse me. I want to go the flow, never thinking of myself as a presence. Then
for a walk. I will come back about teatime.” I looked in the mirror and decided to be free. All
He looked hard at me, and we both knew I had that my freedom has brought me is the knowledge
spoken truly. that I have a face and have a body, that I must feed
“Yes, yes, Santosh. You go for a good long walk. this body and clothe this body for a certain number
Make yourself hungry with walking. You will feel of years. Then it will be over. □
much better.”
As magical as the circle with the fountain, the
apartment block had once been to me. Now I saw
that it was plain, not very tall, and faced with small
white tiles. A glass door; four tiled steps down; the NOT LOST
desk to the right, letters and keys in the pigeonholes;
a carpet to the left, upholstered chairs, a low table IN THE STARS
with paper flowers in the vase; the blue door of the
swift, silent elevator. I saw the simplicity of all these
things. I knew the floor I wanted. In the corridor, Said the engineer, “Radio waves
with its illuminated star-decorated ceiling, and imi­ Go in all directions, and until stopped,
tation sky, the colors were blue, gray, and gold. I Continue forever.”
knew the door I wanted. I knocked.
The hubshi woman opened. I saw the apartment So there are billions of them
where she worked. I had never seen it before and was Reaching trillions of miles into the icy blackness
expecting something like my old employer’s apart­ Among the quasars and the pulsars.
ment, which was on the same floor; instead, for the “Keep your breath sweet all day.”
first time, I saw something arranged for a television
life. “They won’t marry you if you perspire.”
I thought she might have been angry. She looked “Bunions are off, with Bunoff.”
only puzzled. I was grateful for that. The depths of inconceivable space
I said to her in English, “Will you marry me?”
Are getting the hard sell,
And there, it was done.
“It is for the best, Santosh,” Priya said, giving me Making dying worlds glad to go,
tea when I got back to the restaurant. “You will be And saddening those waiting to be born.
a free man. A citizen. You will have the whole
world before you.”
I was pleased that he was pleased.
So I am now a citizen, my presence is legal, and I by Bruce Bliven
82
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