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

young goondas, that is to say hooligans or apaches, or, in other words, of t
he child Shiva himself… but such idle chatter occupied a mere fraction of hi
s thoughts, the rest of which were entirely taken up with the ladies. Shiva,
too, was besotted by too much women, and in those heady days after the mili
tary victory acquired a secret reputation which (he boasted to Parvati) rapi
dly grew to rival his official, public fame a 'black' legend to set beside t
he 'white' one. What was whispered at the hen parties and canasta evenings o
f the land? What was hissed through giggles wherever two or three glittering
ladies got together? This: Major Shiva was becoming a notorious seducer; a
ladies' man; a cuckolder of the rich; in short, a stud.
There were women he told Parvati wherever he went: their curving bird soft
bodies quaking beneath the weight of their jewellery and lust, their eyes m
isted over by his legend; it would have been difficult to refuse them even
had he wanted to. But Major Shiva had no intention of refusing. He listened
sympathetically to their little tragedies impotent husbands, beatings, lac
k of attention to whatever excuses the lovely creatures wished to offer. Li
ke my grandmother at her petrol pump (but with more sinister motives) he ga
ve patient audience to their woes; sipping whisky in the chandeliered splen
dour of ballrooms, he watched them batting their eyelids and breathing sugg
estively while they moaned; and always, at last, they contrived to drop a h
andbag, or spill a drink, or knock his swagger stick from his grasp, so tha
t he would have to stoop to the floor to retrieve whatever had fallen, and
then he would see the notes tucked into their sandals, sticking daintily ou
t from under painted toes. In those days (if the Major is to be believed) t
he lovely scandalous begums of India became awfully clumsy, and their chap
pals spoke of rendezvous at midnight, of trellises of bougainvillaea outsid
e bedroom windows, of husbands conveniently away launching ships or exporti
ng tea or buying ball bearings from Swedes. While these unfortunates were a
way, the Major visited their homes to steal their most prized possessions:
their women fell into his arms. It is possible (I have divided by half the
Major's own figures) that at the height of his philanderings there were no
less than ten thousand women in love with him.
And certainly there were children. The spawn of illicit midnights. Beautiful
bouncing infants secure in the cradles of the rich. Strewing bastards acros
s the map of India, the war hero went his way; but (and this, too, is what h
e told Parvati) he suffered from the curious fault of losing interest in any
one who became pregnant; no matter how beautiful sensuous loving they were,
he deserted the bedrooms of all who bore his children; and lovely ladies wit
h red rimmed eyes were obliged to persuade their cuckolded husbands that yes
, of course it's your baby, darling, life of mine, doesn't it look just like
you, and of course I'm not sad, why should I be, these are tears of joy..
One such deserted mother was Roshanara, the child wife of the steel magnate