Salman Rushdie Midnight's children Salman Rushdie Midnight's ...

nstration; S.M.S. voices chanted 'Soo che? Saru che!' and M.G.P. throats we
re opened in fury; under the posters of the Air India rajah and of the Koly
nos Kid, the two parties fell upon one another with no little zeal, and to
the tune of my little rhyme the first of the language riots got under way,
fifteen killed, over three hundred wounded.
In this way I became directly responsible for triggering off the violence whi
ch ended with the partition of the state of Bombay, as a result of which the
city became the capital of Maharashtra so at least I was on the winning side.
What was it in Evie's head? Crime or dream? I never found out; but I had l
earned something else: when you go deep inside someone's head, they can fe
el you in there.
Evelyn Lilith Burns didn't want much to do with me after that day; but, st
rangely enough, I was cured of her. (Women have always been the ones to ch
ange my life: Mary Pereira, Evie Burns, Jamila Singer, Parvati the witch m
ust answer for who I am; and the Widow, who I'm keeping for the end; and a
fter the end, Padma, my goddess of dung. Women have fixed me all right, bu
t perhaps they were never central perhaps the place which they should have
filled, the hole in the centre of me which was my inheritance from my gra
ndfather Aadam Aziz, was occupied for too long by my voices. Or perhaps on
e must consider all possibilities they always made me a little afraid.)
My tenth birthday
'Oh mister, what to say? Everything is my own poor fault!'
Padma is back. And, now that I have recovered from the poison and am at my de
sk again, is too overwrought to be silent. Over and over, my returned lotus c
astigates herself, beats her heavy breasts, wails at the top of her voice. (I
n my fragile condition, this is fairly distressing; but I don't blame her for
anything.)
'Only believe, mister, how much I have your well being at heart! What cre
atures we are, we women, never for one moment at peace when our men lie s
ick and low… I am so happy you are well, you don't know!'
Padma's story (given in her own words, and read back to her for ' eye rolli
ng, high wailing, mammary thumping confirmation): 'It was my own foolish pr
ide and vanity, Saleem baba, from which cause I did run from you, although
the job here is good, and you so much needing a looker after! But in a shor
t time only I was dying to return.
'So then I thought, how to go back to this man who will not love me and only
does some foolish writery? (Forgive, Saleem baba, but I must tell it truly. A