Part 9 (1/2)

'Yes. Yes,' he said to them.

'Jai Hind,' he said to us.

'Jai Hind, sir.' We clicked our heels.

The General saluted and hurried towards the dance hall. Other ranks followed him.

I returned to my room after a long walk along the river. Only once I felt the need to splash my face with water. It was ice cold.

13.

If you want something, my mother had told me when I was a boy, you say no and then say no again and the third time you say Okay, a little Okay, a little. She was talking about food when it is offered at some other person's house. Our guests had offered us the betel leaf cone, and I said no, then no again, and I was ready to say Okay, a little Okay, a little but the hosts didn't offer the paan the third time. At home I screamed at the top of my voice. I want that betel nut thing now, right now. Neighbors gathered around our house, probed my parents why they were torturing me. Next time you want something, said my father, grab it. but the hosts didn't offer the paan the third time. At home I screamed at the top of my voice. I want that betel nut thing now, right now. Neighbors gathered around our house, probed my parents why they were torturing me. Next time you want something, said my father, grab it.

The nurse, I just learned, was not up for grabs. Memsahib was, but I was afraid of her, and of the colonel. I was afraid of losing my fingers. Ideally, I wanted to become a vegetable. The vegetables were not afraid of anything. The carrots were f.u.c.king the earth The carrots were f.u.c.king the earth. The carrots and onions were having better s.e.x than me. Zucchini made scandalous love to paneer, mushrooms, garlic and tomatoes. Basil coated the deep interiors of fully swollen pasta, with names s.e.xier than shapes. R-i-g-a-t-o-n-i! F-u-s-i-l-l-i! C-o-n-c-h-i-g-l-i-e! Gulmarg salad licked walnut chutney in public. Even brinjal (that humble eggplant), swimming in a pot of morkozhambu, insisted on having more pleasure than me.

Patience, Kip.

How impatient we people are in this country. Yet how patient we are when it comes to food. We wait for a long time to get it right, I say to myself on the window seat. I wanted to speed things up, force them into bending my way, and the result was a disaster. I seem to have no talent for forcing things my way.

I stopped using the cycle. I would go to the bazaar to buy vegetables on military transport. Sometimes when the curfew was in place the ADC would arrange a jeep. One morning I found that the General's staff car was taking the black dog to the vet, and I requested the driver to give me a lift. The dog was in great pain, eyes running. Sitting in the car, I found it difficult to endure the animal's whine. What is it? I asked. The orderly and the driver did not know for sure. No idea, Major. Just doing our duty, Major. The dog stank of a strange disease.

They dropped me in the bazaar, and took the road to the vet's clinic. The bazaar was crowded and dusty and noisy as usual. Sad and miserable people milled around in colorful robes. I bought fresh herbs and fish and vegetables and fruit. For several hours I waited in the street, elbow to elbow, but the car did not return. Fortunately, there was a military transport parked close by, and the driver, an acquaintance of mine, gave me a lift.

On the way just outside the Mughal garden the nurse was standing at the bus stop. The driver slowed down.

'I am in a hurry,' I said.

He stopped not far from her and honked.

'Going to the army camp?'

She nodded.

'Get in,' he said.

She squeezed in beside me and lit up a cigarette as soon as she settled.

'Please don't smoke in the truck,' I said.

'It is OK, Major Major,' said the driver, smiling at us in the mirror. 'Let her.'

She made brief eye contact with me, then threw the cigarette out the window. The shopping bags were squeezed in the s.p.a.ce between our legs. I picked up the strawberries, which were wrapped in an old English newspaper. The color red had wicked into the yellow of the paper, the Government was planning to construct a railway track all the way to Kashmir. I sliced the strawberries with my army knife. I am not hungry, she said. Take some home, I suggested. I don't like cherries and strawberries, she muttered and sat there silently. Just before the driver made it to the camp gates we heard sounds of sirens. Emergency vehicles were heading downtown. He turned around and stopped not far from the hospital. Without saying a word, she jumped out of the truck.

The truck would not start up right away. From the window I watched as she opened her purse and dug out a fresh cigarette and put it between her lips. Camel. It was an imported Camel. Her hands started searching for a light. There was a matchbox in the driver's s.h.i.+rt. He gave it to me and I jumped out and ran to her and struck a light. She turned away. I struck another, but again she turned her head.

'Why don't you just give it to her,' yelled the driver.

'OK,' I said.

She struck the match herself.

'This is my last cigarette,' she said before disappearing.

In the kitchen I heard that the General's car had been grenade-attacked downtown. The news terrified me. Kashmiris Kashmiris, Major. Terrorists Terrorists, Major. Close to the vet's clinic the car had slowed down to negotiate the speed-breaker when a Kashmiri lobbed a grenade. The car shot up in the air and was ripped to pieces. Although the driver and the orderly had escaped unharmed the dog had been badly wounded.

General Sir rushed to the site with his staff members and a curfew was imposed on the city. Sirens echoed in the valley.

The ADC was in a bad mood when he marched into the kitchen to inform me that Sahib was going to skip the Sandhurst curry that night. No dinner for Rubiya either, he added. The girl is very sad. There is no point cooking the dinner.

'But how can you be sure, sir?'

'As I say.'

'But, sir, during times like these one feels more hungry, not less.'

'As I say.'

'Sir.'

'General Sir will drink coffee only,' he said. 'And you, Kirpal, will take the tray to his room. Twenty-one hundred hours. Sharp.'

'Me, sir?'

'Your day has come. Tonight you will serve Sahib in his room. Understand?'

'Sir.'

'And do not forget the hot-water bottle.'

'Yessir.'

I was nervous and ran to my room and shared the news with my a.s.sistant. He was busy looking at p.o.r.n magazines.

'Major,' he cried loudly, 'girls are heaven.'

I told him that touching oneself makes one weak. Touching oneself was not real. He seemed to disagree with me.

'Major, look at her momays!'

He had a pile of Debonairs Debonairs and and Playboys Playboys on his bed. on his bed.

It used to be my bed. But after Chef was posted to the glacier, I moved to his bed, and the a.s.sistant occupied my old bed.

'Masturbation is bad,' I said.