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

the buildings to the ground and erecting on the two storey hillock a mansion
which would soar thirty stories into the skies, a triumphant pink obelisk,
a signpost of their future; Ahmed Sinai, lost in abstractions, would have no
ne of it. They told him, 'When you're surrounded by rubble you'll have to se
ll for a song'; he (remembering their tetrapodal perfidy) was unmoved.
Nussie the duck said, as she left, 'I told you so, Amina sister the end! The
end of the world!' This time she was right and wrong; after August 1958, th
e world continued to spin; but the world of my childhood had, indeed, come t
o an end.
Padma did you have, when you were little, a world of your own? A tin orb, o
n which were imprinted the continents and oceans and polar ice? Two cheap m
etal hemispheres, clamped together by a plastic stand? No, of course not; b
ut I did. It was a world full of labels: Atlantic Ocean and Amazon and Trop
ic of Capricorn. And, at the North Pole, it bore the legend: made as englan
d. By the August of the nodding signboards and the rapaciousness of the Nar
likar women, this tin world had lost its stand; I found Scotch Tape and stu
ck the earth together at the Equator, and then, my urge for play overcoming
my respect, began to use it as a football. In the aftermath of the Sabarma
ti affair, when the air was filled with the repentance of my mother and the
private tragedies of Methwold's heirs, I clanked my tin sphere around the
Estate, secure in the knowledge that the world was still in one piece (alth
ough held together by adhesive tape) and also at my feet… until, on the day
of Nussie the duck's last eschatological lament on the day Sonny Ibrahim c
eased to be Sonny next door my sister the Brass Monkey descended on me in a
n inexplicable rage, yelling, 'O God, stop your kicking, brother; you don't
feel even a little bad today?' And jumping high in the air, she landed wit
h both feet on the North Pole, and crushed the world into the dust of our d
riveway under her furious heels.
It seems the departure of Sonny Ibrahim, her reviled adorer, whom she had str
ipped naked in the middle of the road, had affected the Brass Monkey, after a
ll, despite her lifelong denial of the possibility of love.
Revelations
?? Hare Khusro Hare Khusrovand ??
Know, ? unbleivers, that in the dark Midnights of celestial space in a time
before Time lay the sphere of Blessed khusrovand!!! Even modern scientists n
ow affirm that for generations they have lied to conceal from the People who
se right it is to know of the Unquestionabel true existance of this holy hom
e of truth!!! Leading Intellectuals the World Over, also in America, speak o
f the anti religious conspiracy of reds, jews, etc., to hide these vital new
s! The Veil lifts now. Blessed lord khusro comes with Irrefutable Proofs. Re