KUTUMBA RAO
223
press is in his blood." Evcryone laughed, as if it were a joke. But I also
laughcd! I can't say why. Whenever the proprietor laughed, I also felt
likc laughing.
"Why wouldn't there be an opportunity? If there's not one, we will
creatc it," thc proprictor said. I could imagine what Demon King
Haranyakasipu fclt like when Lord Brahma appeared to him. I don't
havc to repcat all the details of what happened after that. The propri–
etor of Saraswati Publishing Company took my address. That afternoon
at Dasprakash Hotel, I had a lunch that cost two and a half rupees.
That day I didn't go ncar my office. That office-you know which
one, thc bookshop-l imagincd had long ago disappeared. 1didn't think
that I would cvcn go thcrc again to buy books. That evening, Par–
vathccsLlm went back homc on the airplane.
But the next morning, whcn I went to work as usual, what had hap–
pened the day before seemed like a movie or a dream. Just because I
wrote my addrcss on a picce of paper, would the proprietor of Saraswati
Publishing Company givc me a job? That same address was on my pre–
vious three applications, roo. The proprietor was just trying to mollify
Parvatheesam. I kept telling myself that Saraswati Publishing was only
a myth, but the bookstore was real.
I was mistakcn. A week after I began to believe I'd made it all up, the
lettcr camc. It said that I could start work at Saraswati Company when–
ever I wantcd. I had been unfair to the proprietor. The letter was dated
the day after Parvatheesam left, but for some reason, it hadn't been
posted immediately. It's a big company, after all. Looks like they allow
a lettcr to sit for Ll few days before thcy send it.
The very next day I visited the offices of Saraswati Publishing. 1
walked, took a bus, and walked again to get there. The gatekeeper
lookcd at mc vcry suspiciously and asked, "Where are you going? What
busincss do you have? And with whom?" I showed him the letter with
thc proprictor's signaturc, and he waved me towards the receptionist's
room.
Thc receptionist smilcd at me like a savior. "What can I do for you,
sir?" he asked in English; I thought he was a Christian.
I showed him thc lettcr with the proprietor's name on it.
"Won't you please takc a seat?" he said, dialing a number on the tele–
phone. He spokc with somcone on the line. "He's not in his office at the
moment," he said to mc, again in English. After that, the receptionist
completely lost interest in me.
I sat therc for almost a quarter of an hour. The telephone kept ring–
ing. He would answer, eithcr talking furiously like a tiger or purring
