Bombay to Beijing by Bicycle
Page 32
RACHAEL struggles, cycling legs swaying in opposition to the swing of her handlebars.
RACHAEL: Are we there yet?
RUSSELL: Not yet. Hurry up.
RACHAEL: I can’t. My legs are killing me. I can’t go much further.
RUSSELL: This is what cycling is all about, Rachael. (Pause) Alright. Let’s stop. Again. (make sure you get this line right for call back)
RACHAEL: (slumps on the bicycle handles – she really doesn’t want to cycle any further so sell it to RUSSELL) Ah, wouldn’t it be nice if we just spent a whole week up here together, in each other’s arms, making love in the mornings, going for walks in the mountains in the afternoons.
RUSSELL: (Logical) A whole week! It’ll be snowing in Beijing if we keep wasting time!
RACHAEL fumes. She looks forward, saying nothing.
RUSSELL: Come on let’s get moving.
RACHAEL looks straight ahead, refusing to move.
RUSSELL looks at her imploringly then at the road.
RUSSELL: Rachael?
RACHAEL: Just go ahead without me.
RUSSELL: (He looks to the road, considering it) You know I can’t do that. This is India. Women don’t travel by themselves let alone cycle alone.
RACHAEL: I’m fine!
RUSSELL: Okay … But can you at least cover your ti … T-shirt.
RACHAEL: I said I’m fine!
RUSSELL: Okay you’re fine, fine … fine! (Russell cycles)
JOURNAL: Half an hour later Russell heard Rachael scream.
RACHAEL: AAAGH!
JOURNAL: A man cycled past.
RUSSELL: (Russell stops) What happened?
RACHAEL: He touched me … on my tits.
RUSSELL: (To the audience) MY TITS! ARRGHH!
MUSIC: CHASE MUSIC
JOURNAL: Faster and faster he went. The tyres hummed, the handlebars howled. Russell was a Flying Fortress from Hell! … (he pushes a button his bike ‘turbo’ and goes faster, his cheeks move back, his eye pops out, hits the sound barrier ‘You are going into another time dimension’) Then he saw him in his sights, one Indian bicycle squeaking on the wind.
SFX: INDIAN BICYCLE SQUEAKING
RUSSELL: YOU!
INDIAN CYCLIST: (staring eyes, husky) I only did it for the knowledge!
RUSSELL: I’LL GIVE YOU KNOWLEDGE! (he grabs a stick and sticks it in his spokes)
INDIAN CYCLIST: AAGGHH!
RUSSELL: (laughs manically)
MUSIC: CHASE MUSIC ENDS.
JOURNAL: (be calm – coolly observes it) Good work, Russell. Reminds me of the Amritsar Massacre 1919. It was dawn. Thousands of Punjabi families refusing to move. Without warning we opened fire. Hundreds killed! I got a Victoria Cross for –
RACHAEL: Russell!
RUSSELL: Yes, darling?
RACHAEL: You idiot.
RUSSELL: What?
RACHAEL: That was completely unnecessary.
RUSSELL: But, but … but they touched you! On the tits!
RACHAEL: I said I’d handled it.
RUSSELL: You mean they handled you!
RACHAEL: Oh!
TONI: Hiya Russell!
RUSSELL: (weakly) Hi.
TONI: (Over familiar) Oh, and this must be Rachael. I’ve heard so much about you.
RACHEAL: (preening – tits out, head side to side – she gives a fake smile) Russell. Who is this? How does she know my name?
RUSSELL: (Pause) Well … it’s like this–
TONI: (chummy) Your boyfriend is a right nutter. Can drink me under the table. And that’s where we like them, eh? Hahaha!
RACHAEL: Oh!
RUSSELL: No! It’s not what you think.
RACHAEL cycles off. RUSSELL cycles after her.
TONI: Laters!
JOURNAL: (binoculars – peering at them) That night Russell and Rachael slept on opposite side of the bed.
RACHAEL: Russell! Don’t touch me.
RUSSELL: (No means yes tone) Oooh! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!
RACHAEL: (Slaps him) Don’t touch me. I mean it!
RUSSELL: Alright. (Pause) Nothing happened.
RACHAEL: Whatever.
She pulls at the net. He pulls back. She pulls back again.
RACHAEL: Don’t take all of the mosquito net.
RUSSELL: You should’ve bought one in Kathmandu like I said. (Sighs) Just take it then.
BLACK OUT
Mosquito flies at the audience.
MOSQUITO: (Nasally) Zzz. Red leader to blue leader. We have a male and female sleeping. ZZZZEEE
MOSQUITO2: (Texan accent – ‘in for the kill’ psycho) Roger, Red Leader. Going in for the female. ZZZZZZZ
He dives.
MOSQUITO: Pull up, Blue leader! You’re gonna hit the net.
MOSQUITO2: ZZZZZ. I cannnnnntttt! (Give a look of terror) AHAAHAGH!
He splats, face distorted by the net.
MOSQUITO2: Hot-digga-dee.
MOSQUITO: ZZZZ. Oh, dear. Scout four. Try the other side.
SCOUT4: ZZZ. Yes, sir. ZZZ.
He hovers.
SCOUT4: ZZZ. Scout four to Red leader. You’re gonna like this, sir. The male … he’s bald. ZZZ
MOSQUITO: BALD? BUFFET!! (the squadron flies in and starts biting) Oh, look. It’s Ms Anopheles!
JOURNAL: Ah yes, the Anopheles mosquito. The only mosquito that passes on the dreaded malaria.
SPOT
ANOPHELES: (sultry) ZZZ. Stand back boys. He’s mine. ZZZ.
(sings) I am Anopheles mosquito
I’m comin’ to suck on you!
ANOPHELES goes down on an audience member.
RUSSELLfarts and the mosquitoes fly away in disgust.
JOURNAL: The next morning …
RUSSELL’S face is all bumped up from the mosquito bites.
RUSSELL: Rachael! RACHAEL!
RACHAEL: Don’t touch me!
RUSSELL: Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!
RACHAEL: AAGGHHHHH –
RACHAEL turns into JOURNAL on his horse.
JOURNAL: (to the audience) You’re probably wondering right now ‘Is that flabby waste of organs going to make to China?’ (Holds up binoculars). Another month goes by. It is the 30th September – six weeks away from the start of China’s harsh winter. But right now the dreaded monsoon is upon them as they enter Pakistan.
MUSIC: ADHAN – MUSLIM CALL
JOURNAL: It is frightfully hot. The road bubbles and tempers are frayed. (swats a fly off his neck)
RUSSELL is really sick. He’s trying to stay on the bike. A boy stops him, holding up his hand.
RUSSELL: Are we there yet?
RACHAEL: Not yet.
RUSSELL: But my head. It’s killing me.
RACHAEL: That’s what cycling is all about, Russell. Alright. Let’s stop again.
PAKISTANI KID: Hello, sir. One school pen?
RUSSELL: (feverish) I don’t have a pen!
PAKISTANI KID: One school pen, sir?
RUSSELL: I said I DON’T HAVE A SCHOOL PEN.
PAKISTANI KID: Only one school pen, sir.
RUSSELL: LOOK, I DON’T HAVE A SCHOOL PEN, OKAY!
PAKISTANI KID: (pause) Pleeeease, sir. Only one –
RUSSELL: Would you just FUCK OFF!
RACHAEL: (stopping her bike) Russell! Don’t talk to that boy like that. What’s wrong with you?
RUSSELL: Nothing! I’ve got a headache.
RACHAEL: You’re really feverish. Maybe you’ve got a cold.
RUSSELL: In 50 degree heat? Don’t be stupid.
PAKISTANI KID: Just one school pen, sir.
RUSSELL: I’LL GIVE YOU A SCHOOL PEN YOU LITTLE – (goes to pick up a stone)
RACHAEL: RUSSELL! STOP THAT!
BUTCHER: (Slower voice, high status) What are you doing?
RUSSELL: (hiding the stone) He was asking me for … pens.
BUTCHER: So? It’s no reason to come to Pakistan and disgrace her like this. You should be ashamed of yourself. Look at you. A grown man acting like a
… a deadshit.
RUSSELL: But he –
BUTCHER: So?
RUSSELL: (Voice changes into that of TONI) His asking for peeeens you know! Drives me barmy!
BUTCHER: You are crazy man! Be calm. (Smile) Smile at them. Let them know that foreigners are good people. (Drop smile) Or leave Pakistan! … Which country?
RUSSELL: Australia.
BUTCHER: Oh … you have one school pen?
RUSSELL: AAAAGHHH!!!
RACHAEL: Russell! Get a hold of yourself. Show some respect.
RUSSELL: What do you know! WHAT DO YOU KNOW?! (RUSSELL starts sounding like a mosquito) I’m so sick of your whining in my ear, slowing me down, zzzzzzzz! Not … not letting me WRITE!
RACHAEL: Yeah, well, some writer you are.
RUSSELL: Ooh! You know something … you know something! I never wanted you to cycle with me anyway!
RACHAEL cycles away, distraught. Minimal.
RUSSELL: That’s it. Cycle off. See if I care … I’m becoming like my dad! (crestfallen) Rachael? … my love.
JOURNAL: (On horse) On the contrary. I’m the one you love.
RUSSELL: What are talking about?
JOURNAL: I knew it the day you walked in to ‘Once Were Rajas’ book antiquarian. The way you picked me up so tenderly and fingered my pages –
RUSSELL: Nnnnoooo!
JOURNAL: You love me more than anything in the world. I am the key to your fame, fortune … day time television. Don’t you want to show the world your brilliance?
RUSSELL: Yeah, I’ll show ’em. It’s all in here.
MUSIC: EERIE – THROUGH SCENE
RUSSELL looks for brilliance in the writing but can’t find it anywhere. It’s all shit.
TONI: Show ’em. Travellers like me. Haha!
RUSSELL: No! I’m not like you.
TONI: Yes, you are ya fat twat!
RUSSELL: Noo!
PORTER: (slowly) Welcome to Bombay. (menacing) Shit off to Pakistan!
RUSSELL: What’s … going on?
ASIF: Bugger ya!
RACHAEL: (lunging out, graceful) Russell!
RUSSELL: (look at three points) Rachael?
INDIAN: Hello, sir. Which country?
RUSSELL: Shut up! Get out of my head! Leave me alone!
DR CHAWLA: (slow) Congratulations. You are having the –
TONI: (snake wave with arm) KUNDULINI!
RUSSELL’S FATHER: Should’ve stayed at home with a stiffy like mine! (woof!)
RUSSELL: You’re dead!
DR CHAWLA: Many people dying, Mr Russell. Here. Drink my piss.
RUSSELL: Naah!
JOURNAL: Go on Russell! Show ’em!
RUSSELL: Yes, I’ll show ‘em. I’ll show THE WORL–
He passes out.
MUSIC: EERIE – END
RUSSELL’S FATHER: (slaps him on the face gently, caring) Get up son. Get up!
RUSSELL: Dad?
RUSSELL’S FATHER: Get on the bike, son. That’s it mate. There’s a hospital half a kilometre away.
RUSSELL: Thanks, dad.
He gets back on.
RUSSELL’S FATHER: And son.
RUSSELL: Dad?
RUSSELL’S FATHER: (pause) I love ya.
RUSSELL: (struggles) I love you too, Dad.
RUSSELL’S FATHER: And son.
RUSSELL: Yes, dad?
RUSSELL’S FATHER: Look out –
RUSSELL runs into something.
END SPOT
RUSSELL: AGGH! Rachael! Rachael! (crying)
Roll then stand up as JOURNAL.
JOURNAL: Pull yourself together, soldier. (hold moment) She’s gone. She’s gone.
RUSSELL creeps up on him
RUSSELL: You’ve ruined everything!
JOURNAL: She’s gone.
RUSSELL sneaks and grabs him.
RUSSELL: I’m gonna kill you!
JOURNAL: AH! What are you doing, Russell? (real horror)
RUSSELL: You’ve destroyed everything!
RUSSELL crushes him.
JOURNAL: (hands around his throat) Now, now, Russell. I … I … I was doing it for you. I had your best intentions at heart. No … no … Russell! What are you doing?
JOURNAL’S shoulder twitches.
RUSSELL rips off JOURNAL’S arm.
JOURNAL: AH! My bespoke leather cover!
RUSSELL rips out JOURNAL’S stomach.
JOURNAL: My appendix!
RUSSELL rips off JOURNAL’S left leg.
JOURNAL: My footnotes! (fall to knees)
RUSSELL rips out JOURNAL’S back.
JOURNAL: Not the spine!
RUSSELL pulls out a match, lights it and sets JOURNAL on fire.
JOURNAL: Ah, I’m burning! (takes quick drags on his cigarette) I’m burning! Burning (not all the way up on knees) AHAHAH!
RUSSELL: HAHAHAHAH! … AGH!
LX44: BRIGHT ‘FIRE’ ORANGE AND YELLOW WASH – FLASH LIGHTS
RUSSELL passes and rolls around on the floor screaming as the character KAVITA.
DR CHAWLA: (Happy) Mr Russell! What are you doing? You have set my wife on fire! Roll, Kavita, roll. (KAVITA rolls) That’s it. Rooolll.
RUSSELL: I thought I was burning my jour– (DR CHAWLA pats the fire out).
DR CHAWLA: Mr Russell, we burn women after they are dead, not before. Except, of course, when they look at another man. (seriously) Did my wife look at you?
RUSSELL: (Putting out the fire) No, no, no, no!
DR CHAWLA: Acha! Anyway, I have good news. Your blood test is back and you are having a negative test for the malaria. (RUSSELL looks blankly at him) You are cured!
RUSSELL: Congratulations!
DR CHAWLA: Yes, congratulations! Haha! Seems that the urine treatment worked … and high doses of Chloroquine. Anyway, Mr Russell, I just want to say it has been a pleasure looking after you.
RUSSELL: (humbled – shakes hands) Thank you, Dr Chawla. Thank you for everything.
End shaking hands.
DR CHAWLA: Not a problem. Russell. Come again. Oh, and Mr Russell. I want to give you advice for your journey. ‘The road is life.’
RUSSELL: Thank you! Is that from an ancient Sufi text?
DR CHAWLA: No! Jack Kerouac.
MUSIC18: HINDI SUNRISE – FADE DOWN WHEN JOURNAL SPEAKS.
JOURNAL: Later that morning, Russell rode out on a wide road heading towards China. Just as he –
RUSSELL: Didn’t I get rid of you?
JOURNAL: (Aside) God no! You were in a malarial stupor. I’m still here. Going strong!
The sun rose like an orange ball. Farmers tended to their fields, woman fetched water in big silver pots and children played by the road … covered in filth. As Russell climbed over the imposing Karakoram range and crossed the border into China he knew that the (make sure you say this) rest of this trip, would be very, very different – BANG! SSSSSS.
MUSIC: HINDI SUNRISE
RUSSELL gets a puncture. He deflates then looks up at the audience.
CHINESE WOMAN: Hello. You want girl?
She make a ‘fucking motion’ with her hands.
RUSSELL doesn’t know what to make of it.
TONI: Hiya, Russell!
RUSSELL: Toni! What are you doing here?
TONI: Goin’ to Beijing. With you.
RUSSELL: What?
TONI: Sometimes you’ve got to follow your feelings … and your horoscope. Actually, did you know –
RUSSELL: Toni! I’m not interested. You’re a hypocritical, two-faced, obnoxious –
TONI: Takes one to know one.
RUSSELL: – new age …
TONI: At least I know who I am.
RUSSELL: Offensive … sexy …
TONI: (smiling) Yes?
RUSSELL: … bag of …
MUSIC: INDIAN ROMANTIC
RUSSELL: … beauty.
TONI: Shall we …?
JOURNAL: Twelfth December. The bike swayed as the wind swept down from the Forbidden City across Tiananmen square. Mao’s face l
ooked like an yellow onion …’ Hang on.
MUSIC: END
JOURNAL: What’s going on Russell?
RUSSELL: What do you mean?
JOURNAL: You’re in Beijing. Your last entry was the Chinese-Pakistan border 22nd November. How could you possibly cover 4878 kilometres in three weeks?
RUSSELL: I had tail wind you see and –
JOURNAL: What route did you take?
RUSSELL: The 785.
JOURNAL: That isn’t a highway. It’s a bus –
RUSSELL: Special shortcut … not listed on maps. We –
JOURNAL: We? Who is we?
RUSSELL: Toni. She’s my new –
JOURNAL: I thought we agreed there was no room for the fairer sex.
TONI: Piss off ya gobshite before I use you for toilet paper!
JOURNAL: Russell?
RUSSELL: (Pause, then slowly) Well … it’s like this –
BLACK OUT
MUSIC: FUNKY BOLLYWOOD.
Endnotes
i ‘Beat me with a donkey, Victor!’
ii A freelance correspondent
iii Apologies to Ms Murphy. She doesn’t really look like that. To be fair, I have a head that looks like a squashed potato
iv This figure is now over 20 million
v See the back of this book for a detailed list
vi Also known as Churchill’s Sneeze. In 1921, Winston Churchill, after quite a number of drinks in Cairo, apparently drew an erratic borderline for Jordan and Saudi Arabia
vii In 2012, India has the highest number of road fatalities in the world, at over 130 000 per year
viii The 2010 National Tiger Assessment estimated the total population of tigers in India as 1706
ix From the neem tree – azadirachta indica – used for medicinal purposes
x Australian commercial television is some of the worst television you’ll ever see in the world
xi Edward G. Robinson was famous for playing tough cigar smoking gangsters and his drawl
xii Alas, this breath of fresh air was not to continue. In 2011 the WHO listed New Delhi as being in the top ten for the most air-polluted cities in the world
xiv Actually, they all look a bit like the Liberal politician, Julie Bishop.
xv 2012 – Oh, I laugh now!
xvi A sad, pessimistic robot from Douglas Adams’s The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
xvii Fortunately, we would travel again some years later through Eastern Europe and Southern India