Saadat Manto - My Name Is Radha

‘Altogether I have ten girls,’ Karim said with even greater pride, ‘and one of them is brand new.’

‘Oh, you guys! You always say that,’ Nazir teased him.

But Karim took it badly. ‘I swear by the Qur’an, I’ve never lied in my entire life. May I eat a pig’s flesh if this girl isn’t a novice.’ He then dropped his voice and whispered conspiratorially, ‘She had her first passenger just eight days ago — I’ll be damned if I lie.’

‘Was she a virgin?’

‘Absolutely. That passenger had to shell out two hundred rupees.’

Nazir poked Karim in the ribs. ‘I see you’re already at it, I mean fixing the price.’

Karim felt offended. ‘By the Qur’an, may he who bargains with you become a swine. Please come with me. Pay whatever you will. I’ll accept it gladly. Karim has a lot to thank you for.’

Nazir had four hundred and fifty rupees on him. The weather was exceptional, and his mood no less exuberant. He travelled six years back in time, inebriated already without even having a drop. ‘Why not, yaar, let’s live it up. But first, let’s get another bottle.’

‘How much did you pay for this one?’ Karim inquired.

‘Thirty-five.’

‘Brand?’

‘Johnnie Walker.’

‘I’ll get you one for thirty,’ Karim said, patting his chest.

‘Don’t let me stand in your way, be my guest — here.’ Nazir took out three ten-rupee notes and handed them to Karim. ‘After you’ve taken me to her, the first thing you should do is get the bottle. Remember, I don’t like to drink alone.’

‘And, perhaps you remember, I never drink more than a peg and a half,’ Karim said smiling.

Yes — Nazir recalled — six years ago, Karim had always drunk only a peg and a half. The memory made him smile. ‘Have two today.’

‘No, sir, not a drop more.’

Karim stopped near a dismal building with a shabby sign in one corner announcing Marina Hotel. It was a beautiful name, but the building was filthy, with a rickety, crumbling staircase. A bunch of Pathan moneylenders in baggy shalwars lounged on cots near the entrance. The ground floor seemed to have been appropriated by Christians; a slew of native sailors lived on the second floor; and the third had been taken over by the hotel’s owner for his personal use. Karim had a corner room on the fourth floor, where several girls sat huddled together like chickens cooped up in their pen.

He sent for the key from the owner and opened the door to a spacious but ill-proportioned room. It had a steel-frame cot, a chair and a tea table. The room was exposed on three sides, that is, it had a profusion of windows, most of them with the glass broken. If nothing else, at least it boasted an airy environment.

After cleaning the filthy armchair with a filthier rag, Karim invited Nazir to take a seat. ‘But let me tell you upfront,’ he said, ‘the room will cost you ten rupees.’

Nazir examined the room closely and said, ‘Yaar, isn’t ten a bit steep.’

‘It is, I agree, but can’t be helped. The hotel owner, saala, he’s one hell of a money-sucker. He won’t take a penny less. And Nazir Sahib, what’s money to someone out on a binge, after all.’

Nazir thought a bit. ‘You couldn’t be more right. Shall I pay for it in advance?’ he asked.

‘No, that won’t be necessary. First have a look at the girl,’ he said as he went out.

He returned in a bit with an exceedingly shy girl in tow — a plain sort of Hindu girl of about fourteen in a white dhoti, not exactly a beauty queen but endearingly simple and naive all the same.

‘Sit down,’ Karim told her. ‘This gentleman is a friend of mine. He’s one of our own.’

The girl perched herself on the cot with her eyes lowered. Karim left the room saying, ‘Make sure you’re satisfied. I’ll fetch some glasses and soda.’

Nazir got up from the chair and sat down next to the girl. She cringed and pulled away. Nazir asked, exactly the way he used to six years ago, ‘What’s your name?’

She didn’t reply. Nazir edged closer to her, took her hand and asked again, ‘What’s your name, madam?’

The girl pulled her hand free and said, ‘Shakuntala.’

Nazir recalled the Shakuntala with whom Raja Dushyanta had fallen in love. ‘And I’m Dushyanta,’ he said. Nazir, in a pleasant mood, seemed hell bent on having a good time. The girl heard him and smiled. Meanwhile, Karim returned and presented four bottles of soda dotted with condensation. ‘I remembered that you like Roger’s soda. They’re chilled.’

Nazir was delighted. ‘Man, you’re something else again!’ Then he asked the girl, ‘Madam, would you like to have some?’

She didn’t respond. Instead, Karim answered, ‘Nazir Sahib, she doesn’t drink. It’s only been eight days since she came here.’

Nazir felt a bit let down. ‘That’s no good,’ he said.

Karim opened the whisky and poured out a shot for Nazir. Then he winked at him and said, ‘Well, see if you can bring her round.’

Nazir emptied the glass in one gulp. Karim had only half a peg. The liquor affected him immediately. ‘You like the girl, don’t you?’ he asked, swaying a little from the rapid inebriation.

Nazir thought about it but couldn’t say whether he did or didn’t. He looked intently at Shakuntala. He might have liked her if she hadn’t had that name. The Shakuntala whom Raja Dushyanta had seen during his hunt and instantly fallen in love with was very beautiful, or so the books said. They described her as lovelier than the sun and moon, with the eyes of a gazelle. Nazir looked at his Shakuntala one more time. Her eyes weren’t bad, though not exactly like a gazelle’s, but they were her own eyes, large and dark. He didn’t deliberate further and said, ‘Fine, yaar. How much?’

Karim poured himself another half peg and said, ‘A hundred.’

Nazir was no longer thinking. ‘Okay, a hundred it is.’

His drink finished, Karim left the room. Nazir got up and closed the door. When he plopped down beside Shakuntala, she became nervous. And when he tried to kiss her, she sprang up with a start. He found this very unpleasant, but attempted it again. He grabbed her by the arm, made her sit next to him and forcibly kissed her. The whole thing was proceeding in the worst possible way. At least the effect of the whisky was superb; he had downed six pegs by now. Soon, though, he began to feel quite disappointed that all this expense would be a waste since this Shakuntala had turned out to be totally raw and knew next to nothing about the protocol of this trade. It was as if he had been condemned to swim with a rank amateur. At last he lost interest. He opened the door and called out for Karim, who sat cooped up in the grubby den with his girls.

Karim scurried over. ‘What’s the matter, Nazir Sahib?’

‘Nothing, yaar,’ Nazir said in desperation. ‘It won’t work.’

‘Why?’

‘She doesn’t seem to know what’s involved.’

Karim took Shakuntala aside and reasoned with her at length, but failed to get through to her. Adjusting her dhoti, she scuttled out of the room, blushing all over. ‘I’ll bring her right back,’ Karim said.

‘Don’t bother,’ Nazir stopped him. ‘Bring me some other girl.’ Then, suddenly, he changed his mind. ‘Go and buy another bottle with the money I gave you and bring however many girls you have around here — except Shakuntala. I mean, all the ones who drink. Today, I’ll just sit with them and drink. Nothing else.’

Karim, who understood Nazir well enough, sent in four girls. Nazir looked at them cursorily. He’d made up his mind to just drink in their company so he sent for more glasses and started drinking with them. In the afternoon he had lunch brought over from the hotel and chattered with them until six in the evening. Meaningless jabber, but it seemed to revive his spirits; the vexation Shakuntala had caused him was more than redeemed.