have new clothes.’
‘I have never known anyone to make such an outrageous demand,’ Barey Bhai said ominously. ‘Never.’
I shrugged my shoulders, stepping backwards towards the door. It occurred to me that I may have sounded impertinent. Maybe the clothes were unduly extravagant. Words of contrition? An offer to make do with what I was wearing? A profusion of apologies? Quite suddenly, a splendid vision.
Brothers and sisters! Gather around! Yes, right here. Fifty paisas, a rupee…five rupees. Whatever your heart pleases! In this bowl here…Thank you…you are very kind…Today’s story is about…Oh memsaheb, you flatter me! Do you really think I look like a professional performer? There’s room for all! My name is Harun-ul-Rashid. I come from the far north where the air is pure and life drifts among the dreams of the mountain spirits. Let me enter your minds and take you away…Brothers and sisters! An experience not to be missed! And if, at the end, you feel that you have been entertained, then a little additional reward, perhaps? A baksheesh?
A roll of drums.
In a land where there was no sun, there lived a blind man with poisonous snakes …
‘The police—what if they become suspicious?’
‘How can they? Different bazaars, different streets. Never the same place within a month.’
Chaman reminded us of the escapes we had at night.
Barey Bhai grunted. ‘You have one chance to prove yourself. If you are arrested…There is no mercy for betrayal.’
I whooped and jigged. Somersaulted and jumped.
The tailor, who occupied one of the hovels, was instructed to take my measurements and sew a kurta and dhoti. Despite his effort to make me choose bland colours, I opted for pink and yellow. A cobbler, struggling to pay his rent, was told to make me a pair of sandals. I seriously thought about a turban and a sword. Bangles, earrings and necklaces. Later, I cautioned myself, when the rewards of fame could afford such luxuries.
The chosen day arrived. I was up at dawn and appeared before the others after sunrise.
‘Where did you get the make-up?’ Chaman frowned.
The others rolled on the ground, clutching their stomachs.
‘What?’ I asked, bewildered by their hysteria. I knew that the wig needed a slight adjustment to the left. ‘What?’
They pointed their fingers at me, unable to speak.
‘Fortunately Barey Bhai did not come home last night.’ There was no contempt, only relief in Chaman’s voice.
I retreated to my corner and eyed myself in the mirror. I was reassured. A dazzling sight. Among a swirl of colours, a face that was strangely attractive. Not quite handsome. With a little imagination…acceptable. The mole on the chin was perfectly placed. A glistening round that had been shaped by dexterous fingers. My cheeks glowed. My full lips were ripe and red. So, so kissable. The wig was a smooth, black waterfall, shimmering with the promise of a night’s revelry. If only my teeth…I couldn’t do anything about them. I had attempted to remove the stains with a rusty nail and hurt my gum. The canines were filed. Pointed and potent. Don’t grin, I reminded myself. Don’t bare your teeth.
I appeared again with an air of smug self-confidence, eager to smear the world with my words.
‘Farida Baji has to bless you first,’ Chaman informed me. ‘ Hijras are gifted with special powers. You mustn’t displease her. Her curse can destroy you. Terrible things can happen.’ I was keen to know what these terrible things were. I was not convinced that the curse of a hijra could affect a dwarf. ‘Ill-fortune. You could be very sick. An accident may suddenly happen,’ she murmured, obviously reluctant to discuss the matter any further.
‘I am an accident!’ I boasted, undaunted by the prospect of being plagued by further misfortune. I felt free from Fate’s evil intentions. It had exhausted its supply of malice on me.
Silently Chaman led us out of the godown. Early morning pedestrians in
‘I have never known anyone to make such an outrageous demand,’ Barey Bhai said ominously. ‘Never.’
I shrugged my shoulders, stepping backwards towards the door. It occurred to me that I may have sounded impertinent. Maybe the clothes were unduly extravagant. Words of contrition? An offer to make do with what I was wearing? A profusion of apologies? Quite suddenly, a splendid vision.
Brothers and sisters! Gather around! Yes, right here. Fifty paisas, a rupee…five rupees. Whatever your heart pleases! In this bowl here…Thank you…you are very kind…Today’s story is about…Oh memsaheb, you flatter me! Do you really think I look like a professional performer? There’s room for all! My name is Harun-ul-Rashid. I come from the far north where the air is pure and life drifts among the dreams of the mountain spirits. Let me enter your minds and take you away…Brothers and sisters! An experience not to be missed! And if, at the end, you feel that you have been entertained, then a little additional reward, perhaps? A baksheesh?
A roll of drums.
In a land where there was no sun, there lived a blind man with poisonous snakes …
‘The police—what if they become suspicious?’
‘How can they? Different bazaars, different streets. Never the same place within a month.’
Chaman reminded us of the escapes we had at night.
Barey Bhai grunted. ‘You have one chance to prove yourself. If you are arrested…There is no mercy for betrayal.’
I whooped and jigged. Somersaulted and jumped.
The tailor, who occupied one of the hovels, was instructed to take my measurements and sew a kurta and dhoti. Despite his effort to make me choose bland colours, I opted for pink and yellow. A cobbler, struggling to pay his rent, was told to make me a pair of sandals. I seriously thought about a turban and a sword. Bangles, earrings and necklaces. Later, I cautioned myself, when the rewards of fame could afford such luxuries.
The chosen day arrived. I was up at dawn and appeared before the others after sunrise.
‘Where did you get the make-up?’ Chaman frowned.
The others rolled on the ground, clutching their stomachs.
‘What?’ I asked, bewildered by their hysteria. I knew that the wig needed a slight adjustment to the left. ‘What?’
They pointed their fingers at me, unable to speak.
‘Fortunately Barey Bhai did not come home last night.’ There was no contempt, only relief in Chaman’s voice.
I retreated to my corner and eyed myself in the mirror. I was reassured. A dazzling sight. Among a swirl of colours, a face that was strangely attractive. Not quite handsome. With a little imagination…acceptable. The mole on the chin was perfectly placed. A glistening round that had been shaped by dexterous fingers. My cheeks glowed. My full lips were ripe and red. So, so kissable. The wig was a smooth, black waterfall, shimmering with the promise of a night’s revelry. If only my teeth…I couldn’t do anything about them. I had attempted to remove the stains with a rusty nail and hurt my gum. The canines were filed. Pointed and potent. Don’t grin, I reminded myself. Don’t bare your teeth.
I appeared again with an air of smug self-confidence, eager to smear the world with my words.
‘Farida Baji has to bless you first,’ Chaman informed me. ‘ Hijras are gifted with special powers. You mustn’t displease her. Her curse can destroy you. Terrible things can happen.’ I was keen to know what these terrible things were. I was not convinced that the curse of a hijra could affect a dwarf. ‘Ill-fortune. You could be very sick. An accident may suddenly happen,’ she murmured, obviously reluctant to discuss the matter any further.
‘I am an accident!’ I boasted, undaunted by the prospect of being plagued by further misfortune. I felt free from Fate’s evil intentions. It had exhausted its supply of malice on me.
Silently Chaman led us out of the godown. Early morning pedestrians in
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