Indra Sinha - Animal's People

“Farouq,” I say at last, “you asked why I went to the jungle and I would not tell you, but I will now though it’ll enable you to tease me forever.”

Then between the double disgrace of sobs and snot out it all comes, how I had tried to comfort Nisha and made that clumsy offer of marriage, which she scorned, how I had said it was because I was an animal, how she got angry with me. “Better it would have been, friends, had you not found me, for I don’t think I can bear to go on being an animal in a world of human beings.”

Whatever reply I might have expected, it wasn’t what I got, which was two pairs of arms about me, while Farouq’s in one ear whispered, “Animal, I swear I will never be rotten to you again,” and in the other Zafar’s saying, “Animal, my brother, you are a human being. A full and true human being.”

“Why are you saying this?” I’ve snivelled.

Says Zafar, “Fool.” With that he’s pressed his lips to my head and all three of us are in tears.

It’s now we arrive at the level crossing near the start of the Nutcracker, the one where the railway line runs past the factory, where I carried Aliya on my back. Our auto’s waiting at the closed barrier. We are on the left side of the road. On our right a big truck comes and blocks the other side. The long train goes through, 2652, Sampark Kranti Express. When it has passed we see that behind the further barrier a crush of autos, bhutt-bhutt-pigs, buses etcetera is also fully blocking the road. The two barriers lift, both sides stare at each other, then all rush forward at once until we are firmly stuck in a muddle of horns and curses.

Says Zafar, “Welcome home.”

So I got it back, my familiar life, I have it back. Everything the same, yet everything changed. After staying three days with Zafar I returned to the tower where I’d lived with Ma. Time passed, the travellers returned from Amrika, in due course I danced at their weddings. All live together now in Pandit-ji’s house, I still have my lunch there every day.

Eyes, what else can I tell you? Life goes on. It will take time, so we’re told, to appoint a new judge in the case, the hearing’s again been postponed, the Kampani’s still trying to find ways to avoid appearing, but Zafar is confident we’ll get them in the end. There is still sickness all over Khaufpur, hundreds come daily to Elli doctress’s clinic. Abdul Saliq stands at the Pir Gate telling the low-souled to fuck off and die, Farouq’s still a pain in the arse, Chunaram has various new scams, Faqri’s doing good business, the factory is still there, blackened by fire it’s, but the grass is growing again, and the charred jungle is pushing out green shoots. Moons play hide and seek in the pipework of the poison-khana, still the foreign jarnaliss come.

Three weeks ago, a fat package arrived, covered in blue and red Amrikan stamps it was, and addressed to Animal, Esquire c/o Elli at the clinic. Inside were many forms, plus a letter with good news for me, money has been found, my operation is booked. Elli was delighted, a huge hug she gave me and said that soon I won’t know myself. Zafar says he’ll help me to get a passport, in a couple of months I’ll leave for Amrika. Elli and Nisha will accompany me. All I have to do is sign a paper.

Long have I sat with this paper under the old tamarind tree that was Ma’s parlour. Thought and thought I’ve, asked aloud for advice, my voices had none to offer, but began their crazy hissing, khekhe fishguts noises. It’s then I’ve remembered the tape mashin in the wall. I will tell this story, I thought, and that way I’ll find out what the end should be. I’ll know what to do. When I started speaking, when I heard dead Aliya’s voice calling, it was like she and the others who are no more came back to be with me. My dear ones, heroes of my heart. Eyes, I can’t tell you how I miss them, until I die this wound will never heal. They’ve been here through every minute of this telling. Ma’s here with me now, sitting smiling she’s, calling me son. Let me clear my eyes of dust and rainbows. Yes, I can see her. “We’ll meet in paradise,” she says. I know that one day I will meet her there.

Eyes, here’s what I’m thinking, and this I’m speaking to the mashin, I’ve told to no one but you. Of the cash I earned from Zafar and Co., which was four hundred bucks a month, each day I spent only four. In a tin inside the scorpion wall is more than ten thousand rupees. Eyes, it was for my operation, but now that cash, plus a little persuasion from Farouq’s friends, will go to buy Anjali free and she will come to live with me. See, Eyes, I reckon that if I have this operation, I will be upright, true, but to walk I will need the help of sticks. I might have a wheelchair, but how far will that get me in the gullis of Khaufpur? Right now I can run and hop and carry kids on my back, I can climb hard trees, I’ve gone up mountains, roamed in jungles. Is life so bad? If I’m an upright human, I would be one of millions, not even a healthy one at that. Stay four-foot, I’m the one and only Animal. What reply would you give, Elli?

I am Animal fierce and free

in all the world is none like me

Eyes, I’m done. Khuda hafez. Go well. Remember me. All things pass, but the poor remain. We are the people of the Apokalis. Tomorrow there will be more of us.

(Some common Hindi words listed here have a specifically Khaufpuri twist, and have different meanings in other parts of India; ñ signifies a nasal twang, as in French non.)

aaj kahaañ chalogé? —Where are you off to today?

Aawaaz-e-Khaufpur —the Voice of Khaufpur

abba —father

achchha —okay

aghori —ascetic devotee of Siva, typically naked, whose meditation is death

alaap —slow opening exploration of a raga’s scale

Ambassador —Morris Oxford car, made in India under licence

Amrika —America

anaar —pomegranate

arré —an exclamation, like “hey!”

Ashara Mubarak —the eve of the 10th of Muharram

asteen ka saamp —literally the snake up your sleeve, traitor

baar sau chees —Animal’s nonsense inversion of chaar sau bees (q.v.)

bada batola —a braggart, big mouth

badmaash —rascal

baingan —aubergine

baingan bharta —aubergine baked on coals, peeled, mashed and spiced

bakra banaana —to scapegoat

bakwaas —nonsense

barfi —milky sweets, of a fudge-like texture

basti —literally village, but in Khaufpur means a poor community

battameez kutté, main tumhe nasht kar doonga —Shameless dog, I’ll destroy you.

beedi —leaf-rolled cigarette

behanchod —sisterfucker

bhai, bhaiya —brother, often used as a term of affection as in Zafar bhai

bhang —intoxicating drink made from cannabis leaves

bhatt-bhatt sooar —bhutt-bhutt-pig. A large three-wheel vehicle, it can carry thirty people and gets its name from the noise it makes and its ugly upturned snout above the front wheel.

bhayaanak rasa —the emotion of dread, terror

bhel-puri —a popular street snack

Bhimpalashri —afternoon raga,

bhonsdi-ka —fart-born