So it was that the subgroup dissolved, and as for the rest, better not to mention it, since the remainder of the subjects had graduated from coffee with sweet cream to coffee with flaming cognac, and the only way in which they seemed to resemble one another at the height of these festivities was in their common and well-entrenched desire to continue getting drunk at the expense of the esperanza.
NEVER STOP THE PRESSES
A fama was working so hard in the raw-tea industry that he didn’t-have-time-for-anything. Thus this fama languished at odd moments, and raising-his-eyes-to-heaven, frequently cried out:
—How I suffer! I’m a victim of my work, notwithstanding being an example of industry and assiduity, my-life-is-a-martyrdom!
Touched and depressed by his employer’s anxiety, an esperanza who was working as a typist in the accounting office of the fama got up enough nerve to address himself to the fama, speaking like this:
—Gray day, fama fama. If you solitary occasion work, I pull solution right away from left pocket.
The fama, with the amiability characteristic of his class, knitted his eyebrows and extended his hand. A miracle! Among his fingers, there the world lay caught, and the lama had no reason to complain of his luck. Every morning the esperanza came in with a fresh supply of miracle and the fama, installed in his armchair, would receive a declaration of war and/or a declaration of peace, or a selected view of the Tyrol and/or of Bariloche and/or of Porto Alegre, the latest thing in motors, a lecture, a photo of an actress and/or of an actor, etc. All of which cost him only a dime, which is not very much bread if you’re buying the world.
IMPROPRIETIES IN PUBLIC SPACE
See what happens when you trust the cronopios. Hardly had he been named Director General of Radio Diffusion when this cronopio called in several translators from the calle San Martin, and had them translate all the scripts, commercials, and songs into Rumanian, a language not very popular in Argentina.
At eight in the morning the famas began to tune in their receivers, wishing to hear the news bulletins as well as the commercials for GENITAL, the Cigarette with Sex, and for COOK’S OIL, the Kitchen Oil That WON’T Soil.
And they heard them, but in Rumanian, so that they understood only the trade name of the product. Profoundly astonished, the famas shook and beat on their radios, but everything rumbled on in Rumanian including the tango I’m Getting Drunk Tonight, and the telephone at the Radio Diffusion Center was tended by a young lady who answered the loud and numerous complaints in Rumanian, which imparted a certain warmth to the confusion daddy.
Advised of the situation, the Administration gave the order to shoot the cronopio who had so besmirched the traditions of his native land. Through a mischance, the firing squad was composed of conscript cronopios who, instead of firing on the ex-Director General, fired over the crowd in the plaza de Mayo with such excellent aim that they bagged six naval officers and a pharmacist. A firing squad of famas turned out, the cronopio was duly executed, and a distinguished author of folksongs and of an essay on gray matter was designated to take his place. This fama re-established Spanish as the language on the Radio Diffusion, but it happened so that the famas had already lost their confidence and hardly ever turned their radios on. Many famas, pessimists by nature, had bought manuals and dictionaries in Rumanian, as well as biographies of King Carol and Magda Lupescu. Rumanian came into fashion despite the Administration’s indignation, and delegations made furtive pilgrimages to the cronopio’s tomb, where they let fall their tears and calling cards, cards teeming with names well known in Bucharest, a city with many stamp collectors and assassins.
MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME
An esperanza built a house and plastered up a tile which read:
WELCOME ALL
WHO COME TO THIS HOME
A fama built a house and did not put up a tile in the first place.
A cronopio built a house and, following the custom, set into the porch divers tiles which he bought or had made. The tiles were cemented up in such a way that they could be read in order. The first said:
WELCOME ALL
WHO ENTER THIS HOME
The second said:
THE HOUSE IS SMALL
BUT THE HEART IS IMMENSE
The third:
THE PRESENCE OF A GUEST
IS AS SOFT AS REST
The fourth:
WE ARE POOR BUT STILL
WE HAVE GOOD WILL
And the fifth read:
THIS ORDINANCE CANCELS ALL
PREVIOUS ANNOUNCEMENTS
BEAT IT!
THERAPIES
A cronopio receives his medical degree and opens a practice in the calle Santiago del Estero. A patient arrives almost immediately and tells him how there are places that ache and how there are places that ache and how he doesn’t sleep at night and eats nothing during the day.
—Buy a large bouquet of roses, the cronopio tells him.
The patient leaves, somewhat surprised, but he buys the bouquet and is instantly cured. Bursting with gratitude, he returns to the cronopio and not only pays him but, as a delicate testimonial, he presents him with the gift of a handsome bouquet of roses. He has hardly left the office when the cronopio falls ill, aches all over, can’t sleep at night, and eats nothing during the day.
THE PARTICULAR AND THE UNIVERSAL
A cronopio was about to brush his teeth standing next to his balcony, and being possessed by a very incredible gayety to see the morning sun and the handsome clouds racing through the sky, he squeezed the tube of toothpaste prodigiously and the toothpaste began to emerge in a long pink strip. After having covered his brush with a veritable mountain of toothpaste, the cronopio found he had some left over, started to flap the tube out the window still squeezing away and strips of pink toothpaste fell over the balcony into the street where several famas had gathered to discuss municipal scandals. The strips of pink toothpaste landed all over the famas’ hats, while up above, the cronopio was singing away and filled with great contentment was brushing his teeth. The famas grew very indignant over this incredible lack of self-consciousness on the cronopio’s part, and decided to appoint a delegation to upbraid him immediately. With which the delegation, composed of three famas, tromped up the stairs to the cronopio’s apartment and reproached him, addressing him like this:
—Cronopio, you’ve ruined our hats, you’ll have to pay for them.
And afterward, with a great deal more force,
—Cronopio, you shouldn’t have wasted your toothpaste like that!
THE EXPLORERS
Three cronopios and a fama join forces, speleologically speaking, in order to discover the subterranean sources of a spring. Arriving at the cavern’s mouth, one cronopio descends supported by the others, carrying at one shoulder a package containing his favorite sandwiches (cheese). The two cronopio assistants lower him little by little, and the fama writes the details of the expedition down in a large notebook.
The first message from the cronopio soon arrives: “Furious. You have made primary error. Have included only ham sandwiches.” He shakes the rope and demands that they pull him up.
The two cronopio assistants consult with one another miserably, and the fama draws himself up to his most terrible stature and says NO! with such violence that the cronopios let go of the rope and run over to calm him.
They are occupied with this when another message arrives, for the cronopio it seems has fallen exactly on top of the source of the spring, and from that vantage point communicates that everything is going badly, and informs them between insults and tears that the sandwiches are all ham, and no matter how he looks and looks, that among all those ham sandwiches there is not even one of cheese.
EDUCATION OF THE PRINCE
Cronopios hardly ever h
ave sons, but when they do have them they lose their heads and extraordinary things occur. For example, a cronopio has a son, and immediately afterward wonderment invades him, and he is certain that his son is the very peak and summit of beauty and that all of chemistry runs through his veins with here and there islands of fine arts, poetry, and urban architecture. Then it follows that this cronopio cannot even look at his son but he bows deeply before him and utters words of respectful homage.
The son, as is natural, hates him fastidiously.
When he comes of school age, his father registers him in 1-B, and the child is happy with other little cronopios, famas, and esperanzas. But he knows that when class is out his father will be waiting for him and upon seeing him will raise his hands and say divers thing, such as:
—Grade A, cronopio cronopio, tallest and best and most rosy-cheeked and most particular and most dutiful and most diligent of sons!
Whereat the junior famas and junior esperanzas are doubled up with laughter at the street curb, and the small cronopio hates his father with great pertinacity and consistency and will always end by playing him a dirty trick somewhere between first communion and military service. But the cronopios do not suffer too much from this, because they also used to hate their fathers, to such point as it seems likely that this hate is the other name for liberty or for the immense world.
PLACE THE STAMP IN THE UPPER RIGHT-HAND CORNER OF THE ENVELOPE
A fama and a cronopio are very good friends and go together to the post office to mail several letters to their wives who are traveling in Norway, thanks to the diligence of Thos. Cook & Sons.
The fama sticks his stamps on with prolixity, beating on them lightly numerous times so that they will stick well, but the cronopio lets go with a terrible cry, frightening the employees, and with immense anger declares that the portraits on the stamps are repugnant and in bad taste and that never shall he be obliged to prostitute his love letters to his wife with such sad pieces of work as these. The fama feels highly uncomfortable because he has already stamped his letters, but as he is a very good friend of the cronopio, he would like to maintain solidarity with him and ventures to say that in fact, the twenty-centavo stamp is vulgar in the extreme and repetitious, but that the one-peso stamp has the fuzzy color of settling wine.
None of this calms the cronopio, who waves his letter and exhorts, apostrophizes, and declaims at the employees, who gaze at him completely stupefied. The postmaster emerges and hardly twenty seconds later the cronopio is in the street, letter in hand, and burdened with a great sorrow. The fama, who has furtively posted his in the drop box, turns to consoling him and says:
—Luckily our wives are traveling together, and in my letter I said that you were all right, so that your wife can read it over my wife’s shoulder.
TELEGRAMS
An esperanza exchanged the following telegrams with her sister, between the suburb of Ramos Mejla and Viedma:
YOU FORGOT CANARY’S CUTTLEBONE. STUPID. INÉS.
STUPID YOURSELF. I HAVE REPLACEMENT. EMMA.
Three telegrams from cronopios:
UNEXPECTEDLY I MISTOOK THE TRAIN IN PLACE OF THE 7:12 I TOOK THE 8:24 AM IN A CRAZY PLACE. SINISTER MEN COUNT POSTAGE STAMPS. HIGHLY LUGUBRIOUS LOCATION. DON’T THINK THEY’LL LET THE TELEGRAM THROUGH, WILL LIKELY FALL SICK. TOLD YOU I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT HOT-WATER BOTTLE. VERY DEPRESSED SITTING STAIRWAY WAITING TRAIN BACK. ARTURO.
NO. FOUR PESOS SIXTY OR NOTHING. IF THEY GIVE THEM TO YOU FOR LESS BUY TWO PAIRS, ONE PLAIN THE OTHER WITH STRIPES.
FOUND AUNT ESTHER CRYING, TURTLE SICK. POISONOUS ROOT IT SEEMS OR CHEESE TERRIBLE CONDITIONS. TURTLES DELICATE ANIMALS. SOMEWHAT STUPID, DON’T DISCRIMINATE. A SHAME.
THEIR NATURAL HISTORIES
LION AND CRONOPIO
A cronopio who was crossing the desert encountered a lion, and the following dialogue took place:
LION. I eat you.
CRONOPIO (terribly worried but with dignity). Okay.
LION. Ah, none of that. None of this martyrdom with me. Lie down and cry, or fight, one of the two. I can’t eat you like that. Let’s go, I’m waiting. Say something.
The cronopio says nothing, and the lion is perplexed; finally an idea comes to him.
LION. Damn the luck, I have in my left paw a thorn that annoys me exceedingly. Take it out for me and I’ll let you go.
The cronopio removes the thorn and the lion goes off snarling in a poor temper:
—Thanks, Androcles.
CONDOR AND CRONOPIO
A condor fell like a streak of lightning upon a cronopio who was passing through Tinogasta, corralled him against a concrete wall, and in high dudgeon addressed him, like for instance:
CONDOR. Dare you to say I’m not handsome.
CRONOPIO. You’re the handsomest bird I’ve ever seen.
CONDOR. Again, more.
CRONOPIO. You are more handsome than a bird of paradise.
CONDOR. I dare you to say I don’t fly high.
CRONOPIO. You fly to the most dizzying heights and you are completely supersonic and stratospheric.
CONDOR. Dare you to say I stink.
CRONOPIO. You smell better than a whole liter of Jean-Marie Farina cologne.
CONDOR. What a shitheel you are. Not leaving the vaguest possibility of taking even a peck at you.
FLOWER AND CRONOPIO
A cronopio runs across a solitary flower in the middle of the fields. At first he’s about to pull it up,
but then he thinks,
this is a useless cruelty,
and he gets down on his knees beside it
and plays lightheartedly with the flower, to see he caresses the petals, he puffs at it until it dances, he buzzes at it like a bee, he inhales its perfume, and finally he lies down under the flower and falls asleep, enveloped in a profound peace.
The flower thinks: “He’s like a flower.”
FAMA AND EUCALYPTUS
A fama is walking through a forest, and although he needs no wood he gazes greedily at the trees. The trees are terribly afraid because they are acquainted with the customs of the famas and anticipate the worst. Dead center of the wood there stands a handsome eucalyptus and the fama on seeing it gives a cry of happiness and dances respite and dances catalan around the disturbed eucalyptus, talking like this:
—Antiseptic leaves, winter with health, great sanitation!
He fetches an axe and whacks the eucalyptus in the stomach. It doesn’t bother the fama at all. The eucalyptus screams, wounded to death, and the other trees hear him say between sighs:
—To think that all this imbecile had to do was buy some Valda tablets.
TURTLES AND CRONOPIOS
Now it happens that turtles are great speed enthusiasts, which is natural.
The esperanzas know that and don’t bother about it. The famas know it, and make fun of it.
The cronopios know it, and each time they meet a turtle, they haul out the box of colored chalks, and on the rounded blackboard of the turtle’s shell they draw a swallow.
Intizar Husain (c. 1925–2016) was a Pakistani writer of novels, stories, poems, and journalism who has often been called one of the greatest writers in the Urdu language. Outside of Pakistan, Husain is best known for his novel Basti (1979), which mixes mythicism and realism in a deeply affecting depiction of life in Pakistan. After a long career of publishing, Western recognition came to Husain when he was shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize in 2013 and was awarded France’s Order of Arts and Letters in 2014. “Metamorphosis” was first published in Urdu in 1962. Its title evokes Kafka, but its form draws much from medieval Persian and Urdu epics.
KAYA-KALP (METAMORPHOSIS)
Intizar Husain
Translated by C. M. Naim
SO THAT DAY Prince Azad Bakht saw morning in the guise of a fly. And that was a morning of utter cruelty, for what was apparent disappeared, and what was hidden within came into the open, and one even appeared in unblushing nudity. And Prince Azad Bakht was turned into a fly.
At first, the prince thought he was dreaming; however, when morning came, the dream was forgotten. He remembered very little, and when it grew dark, and the giant returned to the fort, thundering and roaring, the prince started to shrink, grow smaller and smaller. He didn’t remember what happened afterward. And then he forgot even that, for he was full of love for the fair princess who he had come to rescue from the fort. Yet again in the evening, the same thing happened. The giant entered the fort roaring: Manas gandh, manas gandh. I smell a man: I smell a man! And the prince began to shrink into himself. In the morning he found himself as confused and frightened as the day before. It seemed like a nightmare. He tried to remember the details of that nightmare, but he could recollect nothing.
The Big Book of Modern Fantasy Page 27