said,
We are not ribs, we are tusks, and we are here to change the world
. And the boy told his ribs to shut up because what if someone were to notice his ribs talking? But he had no control over his ribs in the same way people seemed to have no control over their cruel actions. One day when the boy was walking on the road, he saw another boy who had polio. And that wasn’t the only thing wrong with the boy. It seemed as if the polio boy had nobrains at all because he was smoking too, but he was good at heart. And just then a horrible man called Anand Bhai came to this polio boy and took out a knife and said, ’Whatever money you make is mine,’ and this brave polio boy tried to put up a fight, he fought like a tiger with one bad leg, but still Anand Bhai was winning, and then suddenly the boy of the ribs noticed that his ribs were starting to tear out of his body. They became sharp like elephant tusks and shot out through his chest but the boy felt no pain, and a tusk flew out and plunged itself in Anand Bhai’s back and told him,
Leave this polio boy alone, he is a friend of the tusks
. And Anand Bhai ran away like a mad man with a tusk in his back. After that, all the horrible people were chased by tusks. Like that Muchhad who owns the bakery, a tusk came straight at him and smashed through the glass of his bakery and said,
Give bread to the beggars otherwise next time I will land in your throat
. And this continued until the bad people realized their mistakes. And then finally the tusks flew back into the owner-boy’s body, satisfied that the people had changed.”
Although Sumdi’s cigarette is burnt almost all the way down, he has not taken a single puff. His mouth is slightly open and he stares at Chamdi.But Chamdi is silent because he is catching his breath, and hoping that such a thing is possible, that his ribs can indeed become weapons that protect the good.
“Your cigarette is over,” Chamdi says after a long pause.
“I … what?” Sumdi looks at his cigarette. “No, it’s not over.”
“I want my money.”
“Where the hell did you come up with a story like that?”
“The mind can do anything.”
“You are a champion. If you tell this story at night, it will be more deadly and I will feel as if a tusk is up my gand.”
“Now give me my money.”
“I can’t, you beggar. The rule is, no matter what, we have to give Anand Bhai twenty rupees minimum. Per person.”
“What if I don’t make twenty?”
“It’s your first day. It should be okay.”
Chamdi wonders if Sumdi is inventing Anand Bhai. But Sumdi has been kind to him. He may want to steal, but he is not a liar. A liar is worse than a thief.
Chamdi looks at his ribs and the skin thatcovers them, and how they gleam in the sun as though they are tusks. What if he is the biggest fool in the universe for inventing magic where none exists, in a city where he has only heard cries of pain and not a single cry of joy? Before he can answer his own question, Amma walks towards them from behind the rubble of the burnt building. The baby is in her arms. Guddi follows Amma, holding a small brown package in one hand, and by the stains on the brown paper Chamdi guesses that the bag contains food. In her other hand, Guddi holds the wooden box that Chamdi saw at night, the one with “Om” scratched on it.
“So did you make anything?” Guddi asks.
“Twenty in total,” says Sumdi.
“I made fifteen,” says the girl. “I sold one Laxmi and one Hanuman.”
She places the brown paper package and the wooden box on the ground. The moment she opens the box, Chamdi cannot believe the colours that assault him. He feels he is back at the orphanage again, staring at the bougainvilleas. The box contains miniature gods, sculpted out of clay, painted in yellow, pink, red, blue, green, orange, and purple. There is Hanuman, themonkey god with his powerful legs and mace, Shiva with cobras twined in his matlocks, Ganesha with his elephant ears, and
We are not ribs, we are tusks, and we are here to change the world
. And the boy told his ribs to shut up because what if someone were to notice his ribs talking? But he had no control over his ribs in the same way people seemed to have no control over their cruel actions. One day when the boy was walking on the road, he saw another boy who had polio. And that wasn’t the only thing wrong with the boy. It seemed as if the polio boy had nobrains at all because he was smoking too, but he was good at heart. And just then a horrible man called Anand Bhai came to this polio boy and took out a knife and said, ’Whatever money you make is mine,’ and this brave polio boy tried to put up a fight, he fought like a tiger with one bad leg, but still Anand Bhai was winning, and then suddenly the boy of the ribs noticed that his ribs were starting to tear out of his body. They became sharp like elephant tusks and shot out through his chest but the boy felt no pain, and a tusk flew out and plunged itself in Anand Bhai’s back and told him,
Leave this polio boy alone, he is a friend of the tusks
. And Anand Bhai ran away like a mad man with a tusk in his back. After that, all the horrible people were chased by tusks. Like that Muchhad who owns the bakery, a tusk came straight at him and smashed through the glass of his bakery and said,
Give bread to the beggars otherwise next time I will land in your throat
. And this continued until the bad people realized their mistakes. And then finally the tusks flew back into the owner-boy’s body, satisfied that the people had changed.”
Although Sumdi’s cigarette is burnt almost all the way down, he has not taken a single puff. His mouth is slightly open and he stares at Chamdi.But Chamdi is silent because he is catching his breath, and hoping that such a thing is possible, that his ribs can indeed become weapons that protect the good.
“Your cigarette is over,” Chamdi says after a long pause.
“I … what?” Sumdi looks at his cigarette. “No, it’s not over.”
“I want my money.”
“Where the hell did you come up with a story like that?”
“The mind can do anything.”
“You are a champion. If you tell this story at night, it will be more deadly and I will feel as if a tusk is up my gand.”
“Now give me my money.”
“I can’t, you beggar. The rule is, no matter what, we have to give Anand Bhai twenty rupees minimum. Per person.”
“What if I don’t make twenty?”
“It’s your first day. It should be okay.”
Chamdi wonders if Sumdi is inventing Anand Bhai. But Sumdi has been kind to him. He may want to steal, but he is not a liar. A liar is worse than a thief.
Chamdi looks at his ribs and the skin thatcovers them, and how they gleam in the sun as though they are tusks. What if he is the biggest fool in the universe for inventing magic where none exists, in a city where he has only heard cries of pain and not a single cry of joy? Before he can answer his own question, Amma walks towards them from behind the rubble of the burnt building. The baby is in her arms. Guddi follows Amma, holding a small brown package in one hand, and by the stains on the brown paper Chamdi guesses that the bag contains food. In her other hand, Guddi holds the wooden box that Chamdi saw at night, the one with “Om” scratched on it.
“So did you make anything?” Guddi asks.
“Twenty in total,” says Sumdi.
“I made fifteen,” says the girl. “I sold one Laxmi and one Hanuman.”
She places the brown paper package and the wooden box on the ground. The moment she opens the box, Chamdi cannot believe the colours that assault him. He feels he is back at the orphanage again, staring at the bougainvilleas. The box contains miniature gods, sculpted out of clay, painted in yellow, pink, red, blue, green, orange, and purple. There is Hanuman, themonkey god with his powerful legs and mace, Shiva with cobras twined in his matlocks, Ganesha with his elephant ears, and
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