I don't like the book..
“Think of the
money. Jarnalis is writing a book about Khaufpur. Last night he had your tape
translated. Today he comes saying he has never found such honesty as in that
filth of yours. Really I think he is mad, but listen how I buttered the shaft,
I told him that you are an orphan of that night, you grew up in a crazy franci
situation, you used to live on the streets like a dog, you are a unique case.
Jarnalis really wants your story, this could be a big business, don’t fuck it
up.”
______________________________________________________
“Pretty clever.
Did you teach her?”
“For five rupees she’ll whine the national anthem.”
______________________________________________________
Somraj helped the people among the poorest in the city,
which is why no politician gave a shit about them and hardly a lawyer would
take up their claims for compensations. Ma Franci woken in the middle of the
night by a wind full of poison and prophesying angels. In that great mela of
ddeath, those rowdy, unforgettable festivities, her mind was wiped clean of
Hindi, and of Inglis too, which she had also been able to speak a sa maniere,
she forgot all languages except her childhood speech of France.
______________________________________________________
I liked it when she smiled at me, this is how t started.
So I’d do things to make her smile. Next I started noticing every time she
smiled at Zafar. This is how the poison of love enters the blood. If ever their
hands touched I’d feel a jab.
_____________________________________________________
“In Inglish,” he says, “there is a word SILENT, which
means khaamush, it has the exact same letters as the word LISTEN. So open your
ears and tell me, what can you hear?”
______________________________________________________
Holy cunt.
______________________________________________________
“Friends, the Kampani sitting in Amrika has everything on
its died, money, powerful friends in the government and military, expensive
lawyers, olitical masseurs, public relations men. We people have nothing, many
of us haven’t an untorn shirt to wear, many of us go hungry, we have no money
for lawyer and PR, we have no influential friends.”
“Fuck all do we have,” shouts someone.
“Thankyou says Zafar, all grinning.
______________________________________________________
It gets so bad I tell Ma. Shes’ taken me to the big
hospital where they say, joking a side, you go in with one illness come out
with three.
______________________________________________________
“You can fight without hope, if the heart finds strength
in something stronger.”
“what’s that?”
“it’s love”
______________________________________________________
“What? You think Elli doctress’s picture will be on the
internest?” I’ve given a loud snort of amusement.
“Why is it funny?” asks Nisha
“I know what all kind of pictures are on the internesst.”
“He said it was part of my education. What he’d show me I’d
never forget.”
______________________________________________________
“These people love Zafar because he’s all they have. He’s the only ally they know. And he’s always
there for them. That’s why they’ll turn out on demos with him, block roads,
shout slogans.”
“I too am there for them, they will let to know me,” says
Elli, as if just wishing a thing can make it true.
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