During their absence, Mahmoud Ali had gone off in his carriage leaving a message that he should be back in five minutes, but they were on no account to wait. They sat down to meat with a distant cousin of the house, Mohammed Latif, who lived on Hamidullah's bounty and who occupied the position neither of a servant nor of an equal. He did not speak unless spoken to, and since no one spoke kept unoffended silence. Now and then he belched, in compliment to the richness of the food. A gentle, happy and dishonest old man; all ...
Read More
During their absence, Mahmoud Ali had gone off in his carriage leaving a message that he should be back in five minutes, but they were on no account to wait. They sat down to meat with a distant cousin of the house, Mohammed Latif, who lived on Hamidullah's bounty and who occupied the position neither of a servant nor of an equal. He did not speak unless spoken to, and since no one spoke kept unoffended silence. Now and then he belched, in compliment to the richness of the food. A gentle, happy and dishonest old man; all his life he had never done a stroke of work. So long as some one of his relatives had a house he was sure of a home, and it was unlikely that so large a family would all go bankrupt. His wife led a similar existence some hundreds of miles away-he did not visit her, owing to the expense of the railway ticket. Presently Aziz chaffed him, also the servants, and then began quoting poetry, Persian, Urdu, a little Arabic. His memory was good, and for so young a man he had read largely; the themes he preferred were the decay of Islam and the brevity of love. They listened delighted, for they took the public view of poetry, not the private which obtains in England. It never bored them to hear words, words; they breathed them with the cool night air, never stopping to analyse; the name of the poet, Hafiz, Hali, Iqbal, was sufficient guarantee. India-a hundred Indias-whispered outside beneath the indifferent moon, but for the time India seemed one and their own, and they regained their departed greatness by hearing its departure lamented, they felt young again because reminded that youth must fly. A servant in scarlet interrupted him; he was the chuprassi of the Civil Surgeon, and he handed Aziz a note. "Old Callendar wants to see me at his bungalow," he said, not rising. "He might have the politeness to say why." "Some case, I daresay." "I daresay not, I daresay nothing. He has found out our dinner hour, that's all, and chooses to interrupt us every time, in order to show his power." - Taken from "A Passage to India" written by E. M. Forster
Read Less
Add this copy of A Passage to India to cart. $29.63, good condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Newport Coast, CA, UNITED STATES, published 2020 by Independently published.
Add this copy of A Passage to India to cart. $58.79, new condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Newport Coast, CA, UNITED STATES, published 2020 by Independently published.
When two totally different cultures collide there is bound to be some fall-out and Dr. Aziz got it.
chisoxfan
Feb 24, 2011
Must read classic
An exceptional early 20th century classic. Forster points out the prejudice and racial tension of British colonial India. The reader may find early on some difficulty with some of the Indian terms.A little research will make the rest of book easier to read.
Forster's novel was influential for support of India's independence from Britain,which finally happened in 1947.Now I want to see the Academy Award winning movie.
Pobskill
May 25, 2009
Forster.....Fivester
It's good. Chapter 7 is especally so. The audiobook reading by Kate Reading is the best of the available versions.