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

esotted by her pouting lips the moment he laid eyes on them; and that these
were the only reasons for asking her to go away with him. But I have alrea
dy been overgenerous to Major Shiva in this, my own personal version of his
tory, I have allowed his account too much space; so I insist that, whatever
the knock kneed Major might have thought, the thing that drew him into the
ghetto was quite simply and straightforwardly the magic of Parvati the witch.
Saleem was not in the ghetto when Major Shiva arrived by motorcycle; while
nuclear explosions rocked the Rajasthani wastes, out of sight, beneath the
desert's surface, the explosion which changed my life also took place out o
f my sight. When Shiva grasped Parvati by the wrist, I was with Picture Sin
gh at an emergency conference of the city's many red cells, discussing the
ins and outs of the national railway strike; when Parvati, without demurrin
g, took her place on the pillion of a hero's Honda, I was busily denouncing
the government's arrests of union leaders. In short, while I was preoccupi
ed with politics and my dream of national salvation, the powers of Parvati'
s witchcraft had set in motion the scheme which would end with hennaed palm
s, and songs, and the signing of a contract.
… I am obliged, perforce, to reply on the accounts of others; only Shiva cou
ld tell what had befallen him; it was Resham Bibi who described Parvati's de
parture to me on my return, saying, 'Poor girl, let her go, so sad she has b
een for so long, what is to blame?'; and only Parvati could recount to me wh
at befell her while she was away.
Because of the Major's national status as a war hero, he was permitted to ta
ke certain liberties with military regulations; so nobody took him to task f
or importing a woman into what were not, after all, married men's quarters;
and he, not knowing what had brought about this remarkable alteration in his
life, sat down as requested in a cane chair, while she took off his boots,
pressed his feet, brought him water flavoured with freshly squeezed limes, d
ismissed his batman, oiled his moustache, caressed his knees and after all t
hat produced a dinner of biriani so exquisite that he stopped wondering what
was happening to him and began to enjoy it instead. Parvati the witch turne
d those simple Army quarters into a palace, a Kailasa fit for Shiva the god;
and Major Shiva, lost in the haunted pools of her eyes, aroused beyond endu
rance by the erotic protrusion of her lips, devoted his undivided attentions
to her for four whole months: or, to be precise, for one hundred and sevent
een nights. On September 12th, however, things changed: because Parvati, kne
eling at his feet, fully aware of his views on the subject, told him that sh
e was going to have his child.
The liaison of Shiva and Parvati now became a tempestuous business, filled
with blows and broken plates: an earthly echo of that eternal marital battl
e of the gods which their namesakes are said to perform atop Mount Kailasa
in the great Himalayas… Major Shiva, at this time, began to drink; also to