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

to the new Midnight Children's Conference, my very own M.C.C.
That's how it was when I was ten: nothing but trouble outside my head, nothi
ng but miracles inside it.
At the Pioneer Cafe
No colours except green and black the walls are green the sky is black (the
re is no roof) the stars are green the Widow is green but her hair is black
as black. The Widow sits on a high high chair the chair is green the seat
is black the Widow's hair has a centre parting it is green on the left and
on the right black. High as the sky the chair is green the seat is black th
e Widow's arm is long as death its skin is green the fingernails are long a
nd sharp and black. Between the walls the children green the walls are gree
n the Widow's arm comes snaking down the snake is green the children scream
the fingernails are black they scratch the Widow's arm is hunting see the
children run and scream the Widow's hand curls round them green and black.
Now one by one the children mmff are stifled quiet the Widow's hand is lift
ing one by one the children green their blood is black unloosed by cutting
fingernails it splashes black on walls (of green) as one by one the curling
hand lifts children high as sky the sky is black there are no stars the Wi
dow laughs her tongue is green but her teeth are black. And children torn i
n two in Widow hands which rolling rolling halves of children roll them int
o little balls the balls are green the night is black. And little balls fly
into night between the walls the children shriek as one by one the Widow's
hand. And in a corner the Monkey and I (the walls are green the shadows bl
ack) cowering crawling wide high walls green fading into black there is no
roof and Widow's hand comes onebyone the children scream and mmff and littl
e balls and hand and scream and mmff and splashing stains of black. Now onl
y she and I and no more screams the Widow's hand comes hunting hunting the
skin is green the nails are black towards the corner hunting hunting while
we shrink closer into the corner our skin is green our fear is black and no
w the Hand comes reaching reaching and she my sister pushes me out out of t
he corner while she stays cowering staring the hand the nails are curling scream and m
ing into little balls the balls are green and out into the night the night is
black…
The fever broke today. For two days (I'm told) Padma has been sitting up all
night, placing cold wet flannels on my forehead, holding me through my shiv
ers and dreams of Widow's hands; for two days she has been blaming herself f
or her potion of unknown herbs. 'But,' I reassure her, 'this time, it wasn't
anything to do with that.' I recognize this fever; it's come up from inside
me and from nowhere else; like a bad stink, it's oozed through my cracks. I