The Cousin Quotes in The Vendor of Sweets
“Conquer taste, and you will have conquered the self,” said Jagan to his listener, who asked, “Why conquer the self?” Jagan said, “I do not know, but all our sages advise us so.”
“Writer” meant in Jagan’s dictionary only one thing—a “clerk”—an Anglo-Indian, colonial term since the days when Macaulay had devised a system of education to provide a constant supply of clerical staff for the East India Company. Jagan felt ghast. Here he was trying to shape the boy into an aristocrat with a bicycle, college life, striped shirts, and everything, and he wanted to be a “writer”! Strange!
“I hate to upset him, that’s all. I have never upset him in all my life.”
“That means you have carried things to the point where you cannot speak to him at all.”
“Did Valmiki go to America or Germany in order to write his Ramayana?” asked Jagan with pugnacity. “Strange notions these boys get nowadays!”
“They eat only beef and pork in that country. I used to know a man from America, and he told me . . .”
“They also take a lot of intoxicating drinks, never water or milk,” said the cousin, contributing his own bit of information.
“You are not one who knows how to make money. If you were unscrupulous, you could have built many mansions, who knows?”
“And what would one do with many mansions?”
“Our young men live in a different world from ours and we must not let ourselves be upset too much by certain things they do.”
“That’s why I discouraged his idea of buying that horrible green car!” He vented his rage against the green automobile until the cousin interrupted, “A bottle could be sneaked in anywhere . . .”
“You don’t understand. It’s the motor car that creates all sorts of notions in a young fellow,” said Jagan[.]
“If you meet her, tell her that if she ever wants to go back to her country, I will buy her a ticket. It’s a duty we owe her. She was a good girl.”
The Cousin Quotes in The Vendor of Sweets
“Conquer taste, and you will have conquered the self,” said Jagan to his listener, who asked, “Why conquer the self?” Jagan said, “I do not know, but all our sages advise us so.”
“Writer” meant in Jagan’s dictionary only one thing—a “clerk”—an Anglo-Indian, colonial term since the days when Macaulay had devised a system of education to provide a constant supply of clerical staff for the East India Company. Jagan felt ghast. Here he was trying to shape the boy into an aristocrat with a bicycle, college life, striped shirts, and everything, and he wanted to be a “writer”! Strange!
“I hate to upset him, that’s all. I have never upset him in all my life.”
“That means you have carried things to the point where you cannot speak to him at all.”
“Did Valmiki go to America or Germany in order to write his Ramayana?” asked Jagan with pugnacity. “Strange notions these boys get nowadays!”
“They eat only beef and pork in that country. I used to know a man from America, and he told me . . .”
“They also take a lot of intoxicating drinks, never water or milk,” said the cousin, contributing his own bit of information.
“You are not one who knows how to make money. If you were unscrupulous, you could have built many mansions, who knows?”
“And what would one do with many mansions?”
“Our young men live in a different world from ours and we must not let ourselves be upset too much by certain things they do.”
“That’s why I discouraged his idea of buying that horrible green car!” He vented his rage against the green automobile until the cousin interrupted, “A bottle could be sneaked in anywhere . . .”
“You don’t understand. It’s the motor car that creates all sorts of notions in a young fellow,” said Jagan[.]
“If you meet her, tell her that if she ever wants to go back to her country, I will buy her a ticket. It’s a duty we owe her. She was a good girl.”