India Song Page #2

She gave them out

at the end of the ball.

After lunch, people sink...

Heavy sleep.

Yet everyone waits

for something like that.

Storms are expected.

Just a hole in the sky.

It fills in straight away.

How white she is!

How white they are,

the women of Calcutta!

For six months,

out only in the evening

Fleeing the sun.

Seems imprisoned

in a kind of suffering.

No one really knows

what goes on behind these walls.

What she does.

Cycling very early in the morning,

in the grounds.

Playing tennis,

She reads, they say.

Parcels of books

come from Venice for her.

She goes to the islands.

Appearances...

Only one person sees him.

The director of the European club.

A drunkard.

All he said to the director

was repeated to the Ambassador.

- It's horrid!

- You don't understand.

He knew it would be repeated.

That's why he spoke to the director.

A way to reach her,

this woman.

He said he was entitled

to Madame Stretter's attentions,

to her love,

as much as the others...

Her lovers from Calcutta...

At night, near the tennis courts...

...this bicycle...

He says:

"A thing she had touched".

No...

...that can't be repeated.

Of this passion,

she said nothing.

Nothing.

He said he regretted not making

a convincing report of Lahore.

Convincing?

I remember the word.

- What's known of his background?

- Lived in Neuilly.

Father worked in a bank.

Mother left the father, then died.

Expelled from various schools...

At 15, a disciplinary school.

An aunt writes sometimes.

Look at his eyes.

He's crying.

He seems unaware of it.

He seems to be in a state...

of tears.

What do you want?

To talk to you.

What about?

Your next post.

The voice is toneless,

as if he was trying not to shout.

You can't get used to it either?

No. the heat, of course...

...but also the monotony.

The light...

...no colour.

But you...

before Lahore...

...would you have preferred

something else?

No.

Lahore was what I wanted.

Come to the bar.

What are you afraid of?

They say you'd like Bombay.

I wish to stay in Calcutta.

I don't think that's possible.

Then leave it to

the Consular Service.

They can send me

where they like.

Bombay is less crowded.

The climate is better.

The nearness of the sea

is an advantage.

I haven't asked to see my file.

What does it say?

That Lahore...

...what you did in Lahore...

People can't understand.

No matter how hard they try.

No one.

No one?

What are you doing?

Come along.

I'm listening to "India Song".

I came to India

because of "India Song".

That tune makes me

want to love.

I have never loved.

I had never loved anyone.

He saw himself photographed, in a

rocking chair by the Gulf of Oman.

Then, one morning...

...on the way to his office,

he saw her in the park...

...by the tennis courts...

...in white.

What a story!

What passion!

He left everything for her.

Some close friends stayed

after the reception.

The passion sometimes...

Those European suicides

that increase with the hunger

that they never suffer...

In its internal law,

that culpability of the West...

It is absurd, clear.

Shanghai... Did you see

the photos of the bombing?

The first attempt in Savannakhet...

...because of a dead body,

abandoned by its mother,

a beggar from the north,

in the government house grounds...

...outside her room...

No woman in Lahore

knew him enough...

...to shed any light on...

- No woman.

- How terrible!

No one has ever

visited him in Lahore.

That's how he wanted to be,

a virgin alone,

waiting for love.

Death all around you,

never quite reaching you.

What are you talking about?

The Vice-Consul who is

looking for Madame Stretter.

She has been leaving receptions

more and more often.

It was bound to happen.

Look...

He is going over to

Madame Stretter.

Did you see?

How subtle!

How cleverly he saved his wife...

- Where are they going?

- Into the second drawing room.

Sooner or later the Ambassador

had to talk with him.

So you see...

He's asked for champagne.

If I've got it right,

you'd like Bombay?

But in Bombay you couldn't

have the same job as Lahore.

It's still too soon.

If you stay here for a while,

people will forget.

Or I can keep you in Calcutta.

Yes.

A strange thing, a career.

If you forget Lahore,

so will others.

I won't forget Lahore.

There are remedies...

...for this sort of nervousness,

as it is called.

- You know.

- No!

At the beginning, everyone,

myself included...

...we feel the same.

It's a question of finding,

inventing...

...a way of looking at things.

I haven't.

I see nothing.

Go back to Paris.

No...

It's impossible.

The Mekong, at Savannakhet,

flowing yellow between

forest and rice fields.

In those days

the launches were slow.

It took days...

At sunset, the mosquitoes...

We couldn't see a thing.

Black clusters on the netting.

The Ambassador wrote poetry.

- It's said she discouraged it.

- The banks can't be seen when it rains.

The sky is low.

The water, muddy.

When he met her, she was so young,

and he, already...

They're great friends.

He took her away from Savannakhet?

No one knows.

She courted death in Savannakhet.

So young.

You must come with us

to the islands.

The Embassy villa

was built a long time ago.

It's worth seeing.

And also the islands

of the delta.

I'd be pleased to come.

Perhaps what she did was music...

...behind those walls.

Prisoner of that suffering, so old.

Painless.

A leprosy of the heart.

Yet sometimes, in the grounds,

those tears...

The light of the monsoon...

...so harsh...

...and her eyes so clear

that tears...

Tell me about her.

Irreproachable.

Here that means...

...nothing that you can see.

After Venice,

she gave no more concerts?

No, never.

Have they met?

They must have seen each other

in the grounds.

What is he looking at?

Madame Stretter,

dancing with the young attach.

Listen carefully,

to her voice, the accent.

Perhaps that's what

makes her seem distant.

- That origin.

- Yes, maybe that too...

I wish I were you...

...arriving here for the first time,

with the rains.

You aren't bored?

What do you do in the evenings?

On Sundays?

I read, sleep.

I don't really know.

Boredom, of course,

is so personal.

It's hard to give advice.

I don't think I'm bored.

Then again, it may not be

as serious as they say.

Thank you for sending the

parcels of books up so promptly.

A pleasure.

You know, one could say

almost nothing is

possible in India.

What do you mean?

Nothing.

That this general despondency...

It's neither painful nor pleasant

to live in India.

Neither easy nor difficult.

It's nothing.

You see?

Nothing.

You mean it's impossible?

Well... perhaps, yes.

But then, you know it's probably

an over-simplification.

The Vice-Consul is looking at you.

He's been doing so all evening.

You didn't notice?

Where is he hoping to be posted?

Here in Calcutta.

Really?

I thought you knew already.

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