‘Should I?’ he thought, and the noise in his head was big. ‘It’ll only take a moment, and then I’ll be gone! I’ll leave this treacherous world behind me – the wings of death will carry me away swift! All the rough tyranny I’ve suffered – with one gesture I’ll cut it all to pieces!’
He looked up at the skies. It seemed as if his name was being shouted now, ever more loudly each time it was repeated – ‘Arzee! AR-zee! ARZEE!’ This must be the thundering that suicides heard in their heads as they approached the moment of passage, the rising sound of their name being called out by the clamorous spirits on the other side. So he was ‘Arzee’ to them – they didn’t know him by the name with which he had first been stamped. And in that ‘Arzee’ was contained not only the many chapters of his life, but his reason for leaving this world too. Arzee raised his arms, asking to be relieved.
But wait! Why was the voice in his head so much like Deepak’s?
Because it was Deepak. Arzee turned and found the familiar scraggy figure advancing down the alley, the familiar expression of mingled menace and mockery on his face.
‘It’s him!’ he thought. ‘The wretch! Preening…swaggering as usual. I’ve paid his money back, but still he chases me everywhere, because I’m a joke to him! Today I won’t even take his name…I won’t come down to his level. Let him be puzzled, and let him go away feeling like the idiot that he is.’
‘How’re you doing, little man?’ said Deepak. ‘It’s strange, but it looked like you were about to fall.’
‘What are you shouting out my name for?’ Arzee asked coldly. ‘What are you doing here?’ For the first time Arzee heard the voice of the new person that he was – a voice without jerks, that did not eat up words, a firm, even voice.
‘That’s the same question I want to ask you,’ said Deepak. He was wearing a new shirt, because the tag, which he had forgotten to snip off, was sticking out behind his neck. ‘Why do you keep standing with such a long face on this wall all day long, like a little pasha?’
He came closer and said, ‘Let me see for myself today what your kingdom looks like.’ He put a leg onto the wall, tested the foothold, and climbed up. Arzee moved away, and folded his arms across his chest. Deepak stood up beside him. He dusted off his hands, and looked around at the blighted scene as if appraising a site for a business project. ‘Hmm,’ he said. He took out a bunch of bus tickets from his shirt pocket and threw them into the water. The two of them watched the bits of paper sail away. Deepak found an empty cigarette pack in another pocket, and he threw that in too, and finally he spat out the chewing-gum in his mouth. He made a face, said, ‘It smells out here,’ and jumped down again.
‘It’s not the most thrilling view,’ he said, ‘but to each his own. The way you stand watch over this place, it’s like you have gold buried here. Why is your phone off, small man? I was trying to call you last night, and this morning too.’
There was a short silence while Arzee debated whether he was answering questions or he was not.
‘I called you many times in the last few days,’ he replied finally. ‘You never took my calls.’
‘So what? I must have been busy,’ said Deepak. ‘Think I don’t have any other work but to take your calls and listen to your grumbles for hours? But I have some news for you, little man. We have some more work for you.’
‘I’ll have no more of this, Deepakbhai.’
‘Wait till you hear what it is. Then you’ll be interested! Some friends of the syndicate are coming down to Bombay from Uzbekistan, and for their last night here we’re planning a variety show –’
‘I told you I’m not interested in any of this, Deepakbhai. Go find someone else. Go that way, or that way.’
‘What’s wrong with you?’ said Deepak. ‘Eh? You’re not yourself today. Why does your face look like that? Has the cinema closed down already?’
‘Leave me alone, Deepakbhai. I’m not well.’ Arzee sniffed, and turned further away from Deepak. He picked up a loose stone from the wall and threw it into the water.
‘Leave me alone, Deepakbhai!’ repeated Deepak, and he picked up a stone and threw it over the wall too. ‘Where’s all your talk today, little man? A-ha! I see. Something’s happened, and you’re taking it out on me. You’re ignoring me. Eh? Eh? Is that it?’ He poked Arzee in the calf.
‘I’m not well, Deepakbhai, so don’t trouble me. You don’t know how ill I am. I’m going away soon, Deepakbhai, and I’ll be gone for…gone for good. This is the last time we’re meeting. Goodbye, Deepakbhai.’
‘You’re lovesick!’ said Deepak. ‘Your longing for that girl is eating you away from inside. You want to grow big, as big as your parents, but life’s not letting you go ahead, because she ran away. I can feel your feelings. Love. Love! Love!’
‘You don’t know anything about anything, Deepakbhai, so it’s best that you keep quiet. It doesn’t matter to me whether she’s is alive or dead.’
‘Then you told your Mother the bad news about the cinema!’ said Deepak. ‘And she threw a fit, and she’s kicked you out of the house for being such a loser. And that’s why you want to go away, because nothing is worth anything in life if your parents don’t love you.’
‘Your understanding is so…so shallow, Deepakbhai,’ cried Arzee. ‘Why do you keep talking when you don’t know anything? You’ll never guess it in a thousand years. I’m in the mountains, and you’re on the plains. So let me be.’
‘I know everything,’ said Deepak. ‘How could I not, when you’ve told me so often? First you were born little, then you grew up little, and then you stayed little, and then you fell in love and that girl left you, and then, after the interval, even your cinema closed down. And somewhere in the middle of all this Deepak turned up, and everything was better again, because Deepak loves small people. And now we’re heading towards the end of the story.’
Arzee trembled, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. ‘That’s not even half of the story, Deepakbhai. You don’t know anything.’
‘A-ha,’ said Deepak. ‘Now you’re speaking like the Arzee I know. What points have I missed? I can see that you’re dying to tell me, because you look like you’re going to burst like a water balloon.’
‘Then listen, Deepakbhai. The truth is…the truth is that I’m not really Arzee. I’m not really the person you think I am.’
‘Eh? What’s that?’ Deepak produced a cigarette and a lighter, and raised both to his face. ‘Who are you then? And why have you been pretending before me?’
‘I haven’t been pretending, Deepakbhai!’ cried Arzee. ‘I’m not even the person I thought I was. I’ve been just as much in the dark as you, all these years – from the time I was this small!’
‘Stop! Stop right there!’ said Deepak, clutching his forehead. ‘I’ve seen the trailer, and I don’t want to buy a ticket. I’m not interested in this story, small man. It’s nuts to me whether you’re the person you thought you were or not. That’s between the two of you.’
‘But just listen, Deepakbhai! I’m not really Arzee! Or I am, but not him too. And when I said the other day that I was Hindu on one side and Muslim on the other…I’m not really that either! It was all a story. But I wasn’t lying.’
‘You sit down this evening and write it all out and post me the letter,’ said Deepak, ‘because I’m having a hard time keeping track of what was a story and what was not. Or better still you tell it to somebody else, because I have a little surprise for you.’
‘No more surprises, Deepakbhai! I’ve already had enough surprises for seven lifetimes. I’m going to leave everything behind, Deepakbhai. Nothing matters to me any more.’
‘I don’t know what you keep babbling,’ said Deepak. ‘But listen, and you won’t feel so ill any more.’ He held up his mobile phone. ‘Tan-ta-ra! We’ve tracked your lady down. Not that I blame her for flying the coop, because I would have too if I’d been in her place. And you thought we couldn’t.’
Arzee blinked, and sank down on the wall
with a bump. The martyr’s expression that had settled upon his face for all of the day suddenly disappeared, and from behind it there emerged the face of the old Arzee.
‘Look at you!’ said Deepak, and chortled. ‘I can see that dick of yours growing bigger by the second. Your dick certainly likes surprises, even if the rest of you can’t take any. Let your dick lead the way till you recover.’
‘But how, Deepakbhai? How did you do it? I never thought…where is she?’
‘How how how!’ said Deepak, with a cackle of laughter. ‘We’re playing doggy dog again. How how! What did I tell you? Deepak doesn’t just fart in the air like everybody else – that’s not his style. When he says something he means it.’
‘Where is she? Is she married, Deepakbhai?’
‘What does it matter to you?’ said Deepak, studying his nails. ‘You’re not Arzee, and you’re not Hindu any more, and you’re leaving the city and going on a long journey. So go.’
‘Tell me, Deepakbhai!’ whined Arzee, jumping down and shaking Deepak’s arm. ‘Where is she? Did you speak to her?’
‘No, but her number’s on me now,’ said Deepak, ‘and we’re going to call her and ask her if she’s sorry for what she did. If she’s not, then our dicks stay where they are. Oye! Where are you going?’
‘It’s okay, Deepakbhai.’
‘What’s okay?’
‘I don’t want her number. It’s okay. ‘
‘Don’t want?’
‘I don’t want to have anything to do with that life of mine, Deepakbhai. I’ve already faced enough humiliations in that life. I’ve learnt my lessons now. I’m on my own in this world in this new life of mine, and that’s how I’m going to be.’
‘You wanted it bad enough ten days ago, little man. I remember how you wept and you babbled.’
‘Yes, but…but I was weak then, Deepakbhai. I hadn’t understood anything at all – I was living a lie. I’ve changed my mind now. I can’t keep looking for crutches, Deepakbhai, else I’ll keep falling. I’ve got to be strong. But thanks for your help, Deepakbhai. I had been thinking the wrong things about you these last –’
‘You’d better be strong then!’ said Deepak, and he caught up with Arzee and cuffed him on the side of the head. ‘I’ll show you how to be strong…wasting my time for nothing!’
‘You don’t understand – ow! You don’t know what I’ve just gone through, Deepakbhai.’
‘I don’t understand? I understand really well. You’re just a coward, that’s what you are, runt. You want everybody to do your work for you, and then when it’s your turn to step up you whine and cry foul.’
‘Ow, ow! It’s not my fault, Deepakbhai, everything has changed between now and then! I’ll explain everything in detail. What are you doing, Deepakbhai?’
‘Calling this number. I’ll speak to her, and tell her she was so right to have dropped you like a rotten egg.’
‘Don’t, Deepakbhai! You’re interfering in my personal life now!’
‘It’s coming engaged,’ said Deepak, warding off Arzee as he jumped all around him trying to snatch his phone.
‘I’ll call her, Deepakbhai, I promise – just give me some time to recover. I’m not what she thought I was, Deepakbhai! She – her father will rain abuses on your ears, Deepakbhai.’
‘Not on my ears. On yours, because it’s you who’s going to – here, it’s ringing. Speak!’
‘I can’t, Deepakbhai. Why don’t you understand I’m not well? Let me at least think for two minutes, Deepakbhai.’
‘Speak, you idiot!’ hissed Deepak. ‘Be a man, and if it’s bad news take it on the chest, or you’ll be a baby all your life. Speak now!’
Arzee took the phone and put it to his ear.
And then he heard the sound of that voice he could never forget, and fell silent.
THIRTEEN
A Wedding
It was eleven on a Monday morning. Below the giant clock of Bombay Central Station, its hands moving heavily as if with the accumulated weight of time, the great booking hall was packed from end to end with travellers, agents, touts, drifters, trolleys, boxes, and suitcases. The lines for handing in a reservation form swirled in and out, and not only were they almost as long as one of the trains to which they would eventually give access, but also as wide, because every man who thought himself able-bodied took it as an insult if he couldn’t break in somewhere in the middle, while women, too, tried to use their wiles to slip into the first gap they saw, on the grounds that there was no separate line for them, as there should have been. The rain had been coming down fiercely all morning, bringing to an end the hot spell of the last two weeks. Even though the hall was roofed, the slush on the floor, brought in by shoes and watered by dripping umbrellas and raincoats, was almost worthy of a paddy field. Everywhere people were slipping and sliding in the muck, relaying updates on their mobile phones, borrowing pens, checking on train numbers, and arguing and jostling with creased and contorted faces. Above the melee the public address system, crackling with static as piercing as chalk on blackboard, kept broadcasting a message in a thick undecipherable accent. It was all chaos – the seething stew and continuous competition of Indian public life.
A small figure stood in a corner, watching this scene. Arzee had been still for so long it was as if he were an out-of-favour bust, but now his hand moved reflexively to his pocket to check on his wallet as, right before his eyes, a thin ratty man slipped out of the hall with three umbrellas under his arm. Ordinarily Arzee would have stood in line himself, but he had so much to do on this, his last morning in Bombay, so many points to touch and all his friends to meet, that he just wasn’t up for it. This day wasn’t like the ones just past, in which so much had happened, and each time a surprise. Today Arzee knew that so much was going to happen. It was as if the voice on the public address system was trying to tell the world exactly this: today Arzee goes, and Arzee knows.
Now a lanky tout emerged swaggering from the mass, and came over to Arzee.
‘0111 Down Konyan Kanya Express for this evening, reaching Madgaon early tomorrow morning,’ he declared. ‘There’s no way you’d have got a reservation except through me.’
‘Skip the tall talk, I’ve heard it all before,’ said Arzee, going through the motions of checking the ticket without being able to tell if it was genuine, because the last time he’d left Bombay on a long-distance journey was seven years ago. ‘What’s this? This doesn’t look right to me.’
‘What’re you saying, sir? Ask any one of the agents here.’
‘All right. Here’s your money, and don’t argue. I haven’t got the time for arguments.’
The youth licked his fingers and counted off the notes. ‘It’s fifty short!’
‘That’s all you’re getting, or take your ticket back – I don’t want it. What do you want so much money for at your age? Wait for a few years!’
The youth began to protest, but his customer was already gone.
Arzee emerged into the open, where taxicabs stuck at odd angles were honking for right of way, and coolies were haggling with passengers over huge bales of luggage. Indians always seemed to pack as if they were leaving home for good! He opened his umbrella and made his way through the throng, a bobbing red circle among the heads and shoulders. At the gates of the station he was accosted by several scruffy persons, all chirping like birds. One entreated him to buy a travel bag, another beseeched him to try on a windcheater, and a third tried to interest him in some spicy VCDs, but Arzee shook them off with a wave of his hand and sailed on.
Here, just down the road, was one of Bombay’s greatest old cinema halls, the Maratha Mandir, where the hit film from the early nineties Dilwale Dulhaniya had been playing at the matinee slot for over a decade. That was the miracle of art – it stayed evergreen, kept speaking and speaking to people. Arzee thought of stopping by at the Maratha Mandir for a moment, but as he stood on the road divider waiting to cross, he saw bus number 67 coming towards him. He ran across quickly, and
when the bus had gone past he was nowhere to be seen.
Ah Bombay! From the footboard of the bus, it seemed as though the city was tipping and pitching with every turn, every halt. Arzee looked up, and thought that the sky was a colour it could only be in Bombay; he looked down again, and decided that the way people dressed, the way they talked and walked – swiftly, in a hurry, like horses with blinders, not looking nor noticing, trying to outpace their watches – even the way they caught a bus – was specific only to Bombay. On Bombay Central bridge the city lay before him in a mass of closely packed buildings like reels in a cabinet, their faces turned this way and that as if it was Sule who had stacked them together. And among those that caught the eye first and held it longest was the Noor, which was one of the senior citizens of the neighbourhood just like old Phiroz, whose daughter Shireen was getting married today.
Ah Phiroz! Yes, somewhere within this frame, hidden amongst thousands of people like a rare tree in a forest, old Phiroz was surely pacing up and down right now with a cup of tea in his hand, mulling over last-minute arrangements and trying to beat down his melancholy, while in the next room Shireen was perhaps speaking to a friend on the phone in that high, sweet voice of hers, her cat on her lap and her feet in a tub of water. Elsewhere in the Old Wadia Chawl, Arzee could see Deepak asleep in a T-shirt and shorts, his mouth open just as it was when he was awake, while his pretty wife sat down to take a breather after sending the children off to school. Somewhere in here, too, was his mother of twenty-six years, who must have already switched on the TV to catch the repeat episode of the serial she had missed last night, after Arzee had come home, after their talks about the past and the future both. Ah Mother! And down below on the street Mobin, who still knew nothing, his hair neatly parted to the left and with a small puff in the front, was walking to work, his long legs eating up the ground. And all his other friends, whom he hadn’t seen in weeks, couldn’t be anywhere else now but at Shinde’s, rushing through a game of cards before work. How he’d doubted them all!
Arzee the Dwarf Page 17