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

h which became the dream of annihilation by numbers, yelling howling screa
ming, but still with the paper in my fist; and a door flew open, to reveal
my uncle Hanif and aunt Pia. Mary Pereira tried to comfort me, but Pia wa
s imperious, she was a divine swirl of petticoats and dupatta, she cradled
me in her arms: 'Never mind! My diamond, never mind now!' And Uncle Hanif
, sleepily: 'Hey, phaelwan! It's okay now; come on, you come with us; brin
g the boy, Pia!' And now I'm safely in Pia's arms; 'Just for tonight, my p
earl, you can sleep with us!' and there I am, nestling between aunt and un
cle, huddling against my mumani's perfumed curves.
Imagine, if you can, my sudden joy; imagine with what speed the nightmare f
led from my thoughts, as I nestled against my extraordinary aunt's petticoa
ts! As she re arranged herself, to get comfortable, and one golden melon ca
ressed my cheek! As Pia's hand sought out mine and grasped it firmly… now I
discharged my duty. When my aunt's hand wrapped itself around mine, paper
passed from palm to palm. I felt her stiffen, silently; then, although I sn
uggled up closer closer closer, she was lost to me; she was reading in the
dark, and the stiffness of her body was increasing; and then suddenly I kne
w that I had been tricked, that Catrack was my enemy; and only the threat o
f policemen prevented me from telling my uncle.
(At school, the next day, I was told of Jimmy Kapadia's tragic death, sudde
nly at home, of a heart seizure. Is it possible to kill a human being by dr
eaming his death? My mother always said so; and, in that case, Jimmy Kapadi
a was my first murder victim. Homi Catrack was to be the next.)
When I returned from my first day back at school, having basked in the unus
ual sheepishness of Fat Perce and Glandy Keith ('Lissen, yaar, how did we k
now your finger was in the… hey, man, we got free tickets for a picture tom
orrow, you want to come?') and my equally unexpected popularity ('No more Z
agallo! Solid, man! You really lost your hair for something good!'), aunty
Pia was out. I sat quietly with uncle Hanif while, in the kitchen, Mary Per
eira prepared dinner. It was a peaceful little family scene; but the peace
was shattered, abruptly, by the crash of a slamming door. Hanif dropped his
pencil as Pia, having slammed the front door, flung open the living room d
oor with equal force. Then he boomed cheerfully, 'So, wife: what's the dram
a?' … But Pia was not to be defused. 'Scribble,' she said, her hand slicing
air, 'Allah, don't stop for me! So much talent, a person cannot go to the
pot in this house without finding your genius. Are you happy, husband? We a
re making much money? God is good to you?' Still Hanif remained cheerful. '
Come Pia, our little guest is here. Sit, have tea…' Actress Pia froze in an
attitude of disbelief. 'O God! Such a family I have come to! My life is in
ruins, and you offer tea; your mother offers petrol! All is madness…' And
uncle Hanif, frowning now: 'Pia, the boy…'A shriek. 'Ahaaa! The boy but the