35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

‘NO LIKE A-FEESH?’
Big Mamma Maxwell – Empress of Allegory – spent most of her
professional career playing in brothels, surprisingly enough. If Freight
Train’s lead singer knew this – and didn’t think the song was a musical
recipe – then there must be more to this place. I hoped. Indian youths
listened politely, but occasionally whispered among themselves and
pointed indiscreetly toward the far shadows. The hidjra trotted
around, the ever-present cigarette keeping time to the rhythm. An
immensely fat man, wearing many rings and a gold watch the size of
a leg iron, rolled out of those far shadows, squatting on a stool that
seemed like a golf tee beneath him, by a table right next to the stage.
And the band played on: ‘Uh know yuh wan’ me t-eat hot dog, baby,
Uh know thass jussa thing yuh wanna see me do, woh-aye knowzya
like muh lips chewiri hot dog, yuh, Ah givza a mighty big plezza to
you, yah! An’ ah’ll eat some hot dog real soon, baby, if yuh juss keep
that big ole spoon in mah stew.’
Freight Train lurched through some Tony Bennett next, then
presented a gnashing hurricane of noise with someone like Elvis
Costello crying out from the eye of the storm.
I was about to leave when the band abruptly stopped, moving their
mikes and wires back to clear the stage. The hidjra stepped up, grabbed
a hand-held mike and said, ‘Yeah, darlings! Freight Train! Thank you
Bunny, Krish and Vijay-the-Lay!’ She prompted a solid round of
businesslike applause, announcing as it died, ‘And now to dance just
for you all here, the very beautiful Dimple!’
Not even visible, ‘Dimple’ received a standing ovation. It carried
on for at least a minute, with the hidjra squinting angrily into the
gloom at the far end, then gesticulating with an arm that probably
threw a mean punch when it had to.
Soon a thud of feet announced Dimple’s entrance. With a graceless
bound, she landed unsteadily centre stage. The hidjra whispered
something in her ear, then pinched her upper arm so hard that a large
bruise had formed by the end of Dimple’s act.
Dimple was around four feet tall, a yard or so wide, with a face
barely humanoid in form, large quantities of not-so-vestigial simian
hair still visible as sideburns and a moustache. Her human hair had
been forcibly restrained somewhere behind her bulging cranium
and tied. She wore the kind of frock you see at chimps’ tea parties –
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