This Above all
Man of many moods
KHUSHWANT SINGH

Sir VS Naipaul, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature, is a complex character. Without doubt an accomplished writer of English prose, a witty raconteur, a perceptive observer with an uncanny sense of prophecy and unsparing in his comments on current affairs. I was fortunate in being among the few of the Indians he befriended during his visits to India. On his first visit he had his first English wife Pat with him. She was not a cheerful companion. I took them for a picnic to Surajkund and Tughlakabad. I took them to my friends’ homes in Delhi and bookstores in Khan Market.

He was happy to see his books on display. I had his mother stay with him for a few days. I also took her to the same bookstores. Her only remark after seeing Vidia’s books on the shelves was ‘they don’t have any of Shiva’ (her younger son). I did much the same sort of thing when he visited me in Bombay and back home in Delhi. I had people over to meet him, and put him in touch with those he wanted to see.

VS Naipaul with his third wife, Nadira, who is a Pakistani Punjabi divorcee and mother of a grown-up son

On the last few visits he was accompanied by his third wife, Nadira, who was a Pakistani Punjabi divorcee and mother of a grown-up son. Naipaul acknowledged my association with him at the first reception after winning the Nobel Prize, presided over by the then Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee. He named only two Indian friends— Prasannarajan of Indian Today and myself. However, despite many meetings and being with him for many hours, there were aspects of his personality which baffled me. He would suddenly lose his cool and be downright rude to people who could not hit back. In Bombay, while talking amiably to a woman journalist, he turned sour when she took a camera from her handbag and asked politely: "May I take your snap?"

At a writers’ meet, he snubbed Nayantara Sahgal and stopped her mid-way in her speech. He was rude to the American Ambassador’s wife who was to host a reception for him a few days later. He almost walked out of Neemrana Writers’ Conference before the session was over. I was never able to fathom the reasons for his unpredictable changes of mood, and was very careful never to upset him.

However, I did ask his wife why she kept nervously puffing one cigarette after another. She replied: "Because I married him". In his authorised biography, Patric French has explored different facets of Naipaul’s character — his edginess, his total indifference towards his first two wives, his patronising prostitutes, etc. I did not find an answer to the one question which nagged: Why was a man, so richly endowed with talent, who got all the rewards any writer could ask for, be so insensitive towards other people’s feelings? I got my answer from a chapter devoted to Naipaul in Diana Athill’s Stet (Granta).

Diana was the book editor of Andre Deutsch, who published almost a dozen of Naipaul’s early works. She saw him often, visited Trinidad, where he was born, met his parents, brothers and sisters and had long sessions discussing his manuscripts with him. She thinks that the primary reason for Naipaul’s unpredictable behaviour was his feeling he was rootless.

He hated Trinidad’s three-layered society of Whites, Hindus, whose parents had come as indentured labour from India, and descendants of African slaves. He was happy to get out of Trinidad and go to Oxford University. He hated college life. He did not belong to England. He tried ancestral India. He disliked everything about India and Indians. He leads a sullen existence in his country home in Wiltshire with long-suffering Nadira.

Athill writes: "It is not easy to see where a man’s sense of his own worth turns into a more or less pompous self-importance. In retrospect it seems to me that it took eight or nine years for this process to begin to show itself in Vidia, and I think his audience was at least partly to blame for it". Naipaul broke relations with Andre Deutch and went to rival publishers. Then broke with them for no reason other than the fact that in their catalogue of forthcoming books they had described him as ‘a West Indian novelist,’ and returned to Andre Deutch.

Diana Athill also writes of an amusing incident in her home. She had invited some friends to meet Naipaul. He arrived first. She was carrying a tray of wine glasses to put on a table. He jumped up from his seat and planted a kiss on her. Her arms were full, so she could not respond one way or the other.

Being left-handed

I have written about the incidence of left-handedness (Southpaw) among humans more than once. My friend Amir Tuteja of Washington DC has sent more information on the subject — an article by Anana Ahuja in The Times (England). It is based on the findings of Prof Chris McManus of the University College, London, who has made a special study of left-handedness. Interest in the topic was triggered off by President Barack Obama, who is left-handed. So was his opponent John McCain. So were ex-presidents George Bush (Senior) and Bill Clinton — four out of past seven Presidents of the US.

Prof McManus believes that the left-handed are better in music and mathematics than the right-handed. They are also more prone to autism, dyslexia, mental illness and are accident prone. Gay men but not lesbians have higher incidence of leftism. In all 10 per cent of humans, more males than females, are left-handed. Japan has the lowest, while England, Belgium and Holland have the highest population of lefties.

The phenomenon exists amongst monkeys. This has led to the conclusion that leftism is perhaps hormonal because it runs in families. The list of famous left-handed men and women is impressive: Alexander the Great, Aristotle, Joan of Arc, Napoleon Bonaparte, Winston Churchill, Henry Ford, Charlie Chaplin, and believe it or not, Osama bin Laden.

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