登陆注册
10462900000005

第5章

The post office, like so many government buildings, was painted yellow. Over the years, it had faded to match perfectly the haze of dust that enveloped Sampath each time he bicycled in to work. He took a short cut that led down the main bazaar road, through the hospital grounds and then under the barbed-wire fence that had been erected about the post office compound to establish it as a place sacred to official order and duty. Naturally, the barbed-wire fence was not entirely intact, for the residents of Shahkot, never ones to respect such foolish efforts, had set to work as quickly as they could to dismantle this unfortunate obstruction. All about their own houses and in their gardens and courtyards, they discovered a sudden need for wire; and all through the day, while, say, picking an annoying wedge of betel nut from between their teeth, or lifting their feet into a friendly lap for a foot massage, inspiration for wire-use struck them. They had always wanted to scratch their names upon the bark of a certain tree or across the dome of a certain protected monument. A curtain needed hooks. A gate, some sort of latch. There was a plant that would not stand up straight. A goat that tried to eat the plant. A dog that tried to bite the goat. An urgent need for fencing close to home. Soon there were gaps all around, and wherever there weren't, one person or another had worked the wire up on stakes or trampled it down to allow for free movement about the town.

And so the post office stood in the middle of the hustle and bustle of Shahkot. Schoolchildren, beggars, potters and signboard painters. Cows and pigs and water buffaloes. Ikebana class teachers from the polytechnic. Mathematics tutors. Clerks from the asthma institute, and cooks. Lady doctors and the head of the mental asylum. Accountants. Hosiery products men. Umbrella repair men. A bread and egg man. A fish woman. Flies. A washerman barely visible beneath sheets and towels. An orange-robed sadhu smiling and bowing despite the heat. (Truly India is a land of miracles.) Scooters and rickshaws, trucks and cars. Everyone's mother, father, uncle, sister-in-law and fourth and fifth cousin-brother twice and thrice removed. And Sampath on his way to work with Pinky sitting on the back seat of the cycle, charting a zigzag line through it all as he sought out the promise of coolness alongside walls and under trees and awnings, for the morning sun was already hot. Dashing from one blue pool of shadow to another, he conducted an erratic path through the crowd, which responded with snorts and shouts, a vast blowing of horns and utter chaos.

'Stop!' Pinky thumped her brother. 'I am almost falling off the back here. Can't you even cycle straight?' They continued a bit farther. 'Let me off.' She hammered at him. 'This is too much. I am going to take the public bus instead. You are making me feel sick.'

He stopped and, glowering at him, Pinky straightened her fantastic outfit of sunset polyester and strode towards the bus stop. He watched her, resting for a minute as he drank a glass of ice-cold water from the water man's cart.

As the bus appeared around the bend, filled to bursting as usual, Pinky removed a hairpin from her hair so as to have a weapon against men who might misbehave on seeing such a pretty girl at close quarters. Throwing herself on to the overcrowded steps, hanging on, feet waving wildly in the air, she speared a man who was not only taking up too much room in her opinion, but had made the mistake of winking at her, unaware of whom he was up against. Sampath could hear him shouting in alarm as his voice carried out of the window of the bus and down the street.

Everyone on the bus shouted as well. Some in attempt to restore calm: 'But why are you making such a big fuss about a little thing like a wink?' Some in encouragement: 'Very good. Good for you. You show him.' Some disapproving and terse: 'There are some ladies who should be made to walk to work.' The bus disappeared in a billowing cloud of exhaust fumes.

When Sampath had finished coughing, he cycled on, taking a short cut that led through the hospital grounds, forgetting, as usual, to bend down low enough to pass under his own particular bit of raised wire when he reached the post office, so that a large tuft of hair was caught and wrenched from his head as he entered the compound. Perhaps it would later be claimed by the crows as a superior sort of nesting material. Was he, he wondered, an especially generous supporter of the increasing crow population of Shahkot? Would this make him prematurely bald? Or perhaps his hair, inspired by empty patches, would spring back thicker and more resilient than ever?

He addressed his questions to a passing cow. It looked back at him, sad-eyed, on the brink, it seemed, of big, wet tears. Before he had to suffer the silence of its response, Sampath answered for it hastily: 'Who can tell?' Then, propping his bicycle against a pillar, he made a who-can-tell? gesture in the air and hurried into the mail room.

Inside the post office, it was dark and grimy. Inexplicably, the only window was the little one through which they sold stamps and it was still firmly closed. Paper clips, forms and files lay all over a dirty grey floor and teetering towers of ancient ledgers and letters, black with dust, were stacked up to disappear into the discoloured mottled darkness above.

Sampath stood in the doorway, with his eyes shut tight so as to give them time for this transition from sun to shade. After all, he had not slept that night and he needed to be especially careful. He opened his lids slowly, releasing his pupils to discover the gloom, the air that resembled the shadows, the murkiness of pond water. This was summer: the landscape offering up only a few shabby colours, the senses mostly overwhelmed just by dark and light in harsh opposition.

'Oh, Sampath,' two voices exclaimed as he entered, evidently relieved to see it was him and not the head of the post office, and then continued with a conversation that was already in full swing. In a while Sampath could make out his fellow employees sitting in the dimness, discussing, with their legs up on each other's chairs, the very same monkey that Pinky had complained about that morning.

'It was very embarrassing,' said Miss Jyotsna. 'Before I knew it, that monkey had ripped my salwar and run away with my peanut cone. Now I have to get a new salwar made and you can just imagine what problems I am having with the tailor. I told him: "Either you do not know how to use a measuring tape or else overnight I have shrunk to half my size. How can I go walking around in a big tent? What looks I will get!" He said: "You will get looks, Aunty, because the salwar kameez suits you so well." "Don't call me Aunty," I told him. "Do you think I'm so old you can call me Aunty?" And look at what a mess he made with my petticoat…' She displayed from beneath her sari the ruffled flounce that had been so shoddily sewn.

Sampath was transfixed. Miss Jyotsna kicked her feet up in the air. (What red toenails! Jewel-like, beetle-like, beautiful red toenails!) His ears felt as if they'd been dusted with a light coating of paprika.

Mr Gupta, sharing none of Sampath's capacity for quiet observation, seized this chance for active involvement. 'Oh no!' He waggled his finger at her. 'Oh no. You should not wear that shade of green at any cost. Look at how it is clashing with your complexion.'

'Arre, Mr Gupta, what are you saying?' Miss Jyotsna asked with mock horror that made him laugh. (The teeth he displayed were shiny white, the kind of white that in a dusty and yellow country can be found only in certain protected places such as a mouth.)

'Don't you ever look in the mirror?' he teased. 'Look and you'll see that I am right. As always.' He winked.

'Will you be my fashion consultant for the wedding?' She laughed as well. 'Clearly you know much more than me. Doesn't he, Sampath?'

Flirtatiously, she poked Mr Gupta with a ruler so he giggled even more. 'What do you say? Will you tell me what to wear for the wedding?'

The wedding of the daughter of the head of the post office was to be held at the Badshah Gardens, adjoining his house, at the beginning of the wedding season. At that very moment they should have been engrossed in making arrangements with bands and kebab and rickshaw men, and doing the hundreds of other important tasks that must be undertaken at an occasion like this. For, of course, when it comes to a wedding, all official work should stop and the staff of any office whose boss's family is having a wedding must assist in making the appropriate arrangements. This is customary office protocol. They had all been given their own appointed tasks to carry out.

When this boss–the head of the postal and telegraphic services of Shahkot–arrived, they jumped to their feet in alarm.

'Good morning, sir.' Miss Jyotsna quickly smoothed down her sari.

'You will kindly begin the day's work,' said Mr D. P. S. 'Keep the post office closed. Make preparations for the flower garlands. Contact the sweetmeat vendor and the biryani cooks. Get the men to put up the tent. Make arrangements for chairs. You will kindly make reservations at the railway station. The receipts are to be placed on my table. You will kindly arrange it all.'

You would think he had learned his first words, and then all the words that followed, from some instruction booklet.

'You will kindly pull up your socks and begin,' he snapped.

Sampath's thoughts, all petticoats, toenails and monkeys, teetered. A wave of sleepiness overtook him. But, suddenly remembering the advice he had received earlier in the day, mimicking his father's tone of voice, he chirped 'Yes, sir. I will see to it right now, sir.' But once he began, the latter half of his sentence–the 'right now, sir'–amazed and shocked by the preceding words, grew shaky and trailed up thinly into the high ceiling of the room, where the fan revolved with an uneven flutter like an irregular heartbeat, cobwebs having been caught in the blades. They all turned to stare at him in surprise. Never had they heard him attempt such a sentence. It was most uncharacteristic. Realizing himself how odd he had sounded, his face burning, Sampath turned and scuttled off to his desk in the dark depths at the back of the post office.

'I am keeping my eye on you,' said his boss after him. 'Kindly no misbehaving.'

For a while, Sampath attempted half-heartedly to add together the costs of the wedding in an accounts ledger. Balanced on top of an old telephone directory to save himself from falling through the broken seat of his chair, he began to fill the file with numbers from the bills and receipts. But there were so many receipts and so many bills, and all so like each other, he became confused and had to start over again, and again, stacking them together and separating them, filing them backwards, mislaying them. He tried to follow the rows of numbers all the way to the bottom square marked 'Total', but no matter how hard he tried, how much he attempted to hone his attention to a single needle-sharp point, a pin upon which to spear number after number, his mind grew dizzier and dizzier, and he was forced to begin again until, afternoon rising in its giant push and swell, yawns blooming like buffers between him and the dusty pages, he turned his attention instead to the day's mail.

Mr D. P. S. had disappeared on an errand to the jewellers. Miss Jyotsna and Mr Gupta were teasing one another again. Sampath examined the postcards and letters that had just been brought in on the bus from Delhi for him to sort out into the order in which they were to be delivered. He turned them over, smelled them, looked at the stamps, studied the names, the strange-feathered words: Bombalapetty, Pudukkottai, Aurangabad, Tonk, Coimbatore, Koovappally, Piploo, Thimpu, Kampala, Cairo, Albuquerque. He held them up against the light, the envelopes filled with promise, with the possibility of different worlds. He steamed them open over mugs of tea, or just prised them open, the humidity in the air having rendered the gum almost entirely ineffectual, and lazily, through the rest of the day, he perused their contents. Since he had started work in the post office, he had spent much of his time in this fashion. He had read of family feuds and love affairs, of marriages being arranged, of babies being born, of people dying and of ghosts returning, of farewells and home-comings. He had read of natural disasters, floods and earthquakes, of small trivial matters like the lack of shampoo. Of big cities and of villages much smaller than Shahkot. In some countries people took a bath only once a week and the women wore short dresses even when they were old. He picked up all sorts of interesting information. Once in a while, there were postcards sent from foreign countries to addresses in the posh localities of Shahkot, and Sampath sat for hours mulling over, say, a picture of a palm tree by a sea as blue as if it had been dyed with paint, or of a village belle from Switzerland in a tight-laced frock and two fat yellow plaits that resembled something good to eat. Switzerland was a cold country where there was not a speck of dirt. There in the afternoon heat of Shahkot, Sampath would imagine the cold and the clean so vividly, every hair on him would stand on end.

By evening, when it was discovered that he had finished none of the things he was supposed to have done, he was sent home with warning of dire consequences to follow; he was to come in before everybody else the next day and complete the work. How they tormented him! He had been having such a nice time, left to his own devices. And how was he supposed to concentrate? He had been unable to sleep that past night and also the night before, and no doubt he would also remain awake in the night to come.

It was curious how he thought of his sleepiness when he had to work, but miraculously forgot it when he came upon something that interested him. On his way home, he recalled a postcard he had seen of an ape with a very big and alarming red bottom.

同类推荐
  • Innovative State
  • 命中注定 (龙人日志#4)

    命中注定 (龙人日志#4)

    在《命中注定》(龙人日志#4),凯特琳潘恩醒来,发现自己回到过去。她发现自己在一个墓地里,正在逃避一帮村民的追击,并去了一个名叫翁布里亚的意大利乡村,她来到阿西西古修道院里寻求避难。在那里,她得知了自己的命运以及使命:寻找她的父亲,以及寻找古老的龙人之盾拯救人类。不过凯特琳的心还是为她失去的挚爱:迦勒,而不安。她迫切想知道,他是否也顺利跟着经历了时光倒流。她得知,使命需要她去佛罗伦萨,但如果她想追求心中所爱,她必须去威尼斯。她最后选择了威尼斯。凯特琳讶异于她发现的东西。十八世纪的威尼斯是一个超现实的地方,穿着精制服装和面具的男女,永无止境的庆祝,豪华的派对。她很高兴与她的一些亲密的朋友团聚,并受到热烈欢迎,回到了他们的大家族。她很高兴能加入他们在威尼斯的大舞会,这是一年中最重要的化妆跳舞,她希望能再次找到迦勒。不过凯特琳不是唯一能进入时光旅行的人:凯尔也即将到来,决心追捕她,然后一劳永逸杀了她。山姆也是,决心在为时过晚之前,拯救他的姐姐。在舞会上,凯特琳到处搜索,却没有发现迦勒的迹象。可是,在最后一个舞蹈的时候。她与一名蒙面男子跳舞,她的心被深深吸引,她肯定那一定是他。但随着舞伴的变化,她再次失去他。或者,真是这样吗?凯特琳很快发现,自己被她生活中两个所爱撕扯,并发现她要小心许愿。她发现自己拼命想要找寻的快乐可能夹杂了悲剧和心碎。在高潮迭起,大都过瘾的结局里,凯特琳发现自己正对抗着真正的邪恶,罗马的古代龙人大家族,而他们则是历史最强大的龙人家族。她竭尽全力,想要活下来。她发现自己不得不为了她的生命而战斗。如果她想救她的爱人,她将不得不做出比以往任何时候都更大的牺牲……“《命中注定》是一个伟大的故事。它真的把你深深地带入故事情节!我喜欢好几个YA系列,这一本肯定是其中之一!看看这本书!看看这本书!看看这本书!不要忘了看看这本书!”--wkkk.net
  • Lord of the Flies
  • Dr. Critchlore's School for Minions (#1)

    Dr. Critchlore's School for Minions (#1)

    Welcome to Dr. Critchlore's School for Minions, the premier trainer of minions for Evil Overlords everywhere. No student is prouder to be at Dr. Critchlore's than Runt Higgins, a twelve-year-old werewolf. (At least he thinks he's twelve. He was abandoned at the school as a baby, so he can't say for sure.) Runt loves everything about Dr. Critchlore's. He loves his classes—such as History of Henchmen and Introduction to Explosives. He loves his friends—such as Darthin the gargoyle and Syke the tree nymph. And he loves his foster family, who took him in when his wolf pack couldn't. But not everyone loves Dr. Critchlore's as much as Runt. After a series of disasters, each worse than the next, it's clear that someone is trying to shut the school down. It's up to Runt, who knows the place better than anybody, to figure out who's behind the attacks … and to save his home, and Dr. Critchlore himself, from total destruction.
  • A Topps League Story

    A Topps League Story

    It's Chad's first spring as a batboy, and the Pine City Porcupines are hot—until they come up against the league-leading Heron Lake Humdingers. Now Chad's got a whole lineup of problems: his favorite player, shortstop Mike Stammer, thinks he's jinxed; Dylan, the other batboy, doesn't even like baseball; there's a goofy new porcupine mascot on the field; plus, Chad has to fill in as batboy for the Herons. It's a good thing there's something in the cards—his baseball cards, that is—that can help Chad sort it all out.
热门推荐
  • 白发魔女倾世暴君

    白发魔女倾世暴君

    她是冷漠无情的特工,娇蛮可爱的高级医生,拥有很多身份,却因为一块血玉穿越到历史上没有记载的国家,变成了女扮男装的丞相大公子,打了胜仗摇身一变成为了叱咤风云的王上。他是冷酷无情的暴君,亦是江湖上闻风丧胆的晏名宫宫主人称邪尊,两人从“仇人”变成了盟友,从盟友变成了夫妻。他封她为尊后昭告天下“从今日起我尉迟奦颢只宠她、爱她、绝不辜负她,若负了她必招天珠”(精彩片段一)某皇在宫殿中随口说了一句摆驾怜呤宫,某太监就慌慌张张的跪在某皇跟前“皇尊不好了,尊后要抽打怜妃还说以后您摆驾那里就打在那里账都记在您头上。”(片段二)朝堂上,几个大臣劝着某皇纳妃,第二天几个大臣家就失火了,发生的种种所有大臣及宫中太监宫女都避而远之,某皇帝终于忍不住在朝上说了摆驾二字,众大臣及其太监宫女齐刷刷的跪在地上,“皇尊请三思啊!”某皇刚离开龙椅一旁的太监连忙抱住大腿“皇尊三思而后行啊我们得罪不起尊后啊!”众大臣连忙附议“请皇尊理解臣等,臣等也得罪不起尊后啊!”随后便响起了某皇的咆哮声,发生种种趣事,可惜人的一生是不可能一直幸福开心下去。初念女子的到来让他不知如何选择,两人误会多多,一道圣旨,一碗藏红花,一个夜晚青丝变白发,整个皇宫一夜之间血流成河,一身白衣变血衣,伤心绝望的离开了皇宫带着仇恨离去,三年后江湖又多了一个让所有人闻风丧胆的名字(雪倾城)(血宫)
  • 石器时代

    石器时代

    我叫李箖,是一名私家侦探。别担心叫错我的名字,对,就是和树林的“林”一样发音,以前我也不认识这个字,后来感觉名字太普通了,就干脆查字典找来的,一种竹子吧,好像是。私家侦探,听起来有点儿炫,而且我敢用人格担保在我们国家干这行应该说还是很有前途的。这个人格,可以是你的,也可以是他的,反正不是我的。现在,我一点儿希望也看不到。去年在我刚过完三十五岁生日的时候就离了婚。要是让我去调查别人离婚的内幕,或许我会很有兴趣,也能挣笔收入,可对自己的事儿却根本提不起精神来,尽管在离婚后我分到了五万块钱。
  • 如果医生得了高血压

    如果医生得了高血压

    一本专为全国3.3亿高血压患者定制的综合性降压指南。本书特邀具有十余年临床一线经验的北京阜外医院心内科专家,解答高血压患者最大的疑惑、厘清高血压患者常见的误区,并全面、深入地解析饮食、起居、运动、用药4大防治重点,分享百余种实用降压细节。为高血压患者提供疾病预防、就医指南、日常护理等方面的详细内容,帮助患者摆脱高血压带来的并发症危害,过上“无压新生活”。
  • 我不当冥帝

    我不当冥帝

    总有人问我,你为什么这么强大?每当这时,我总是低头一笑,难道我拯救了银河系的事也要告诉你吗?
  • 向日葵小姐

    向日葵小姐

    “如果医生告诉你只能再活一个月,你会怎么度过?”雪七说了一个让所有人都石化的答案:“我会不惜一切代价和井观月在一起。”井观月是谁?偶像巨星+人气作家+绝色冰山男……江湖传闻,某位绝色校花曾向井观月告白。井观月听完,平静地走近她,摘下墨镜,淡淡地说:“如果你能比我还漂亮,我们就交往。”那位校花在看到他的真容之后,一言不发地去韩国整容了……耀眼的太阳和平凡的向日葵之间,永远隔着一个仰望的角度,这个角度也叫不可能。然而,不到一个月,雪七不但混进了井巨星的别墅,还成了他的贴身管家兼绯闻女友……
  • 金正希先生文集

    金正希先生文集

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 皇后授受不亲(全本)

    皇后授受不亲(全本)

    一次穿越,将她带回历史上没有出现过的古国,女扮男装,混迹江湖一次偶然,他与她义结金兰,他以为她是男儿之身,却仍然梦牵魂绕她是皇后,倾国倾城,对皇上用情至深,却因为是太后指婚而孤苦伶仃他是皇帝,玉树临风,至高无上,却爱上自己的臣子——义结金兰的兄弟他是神秘的公子,整日遮面,却也是令后宫妃子嫉妒的谣言中的“皇帝的男宠”,为此,他甚至历尽人间冷暖他待人不假颜色,带领内廷侍卫,却在暗中对他青睐有加,甚至愿意自降品级随他一起边关就任新文:http://m.wkkk.net/a/119768/(bl小白)
  • 法军侵台档案补编

    法军侵台档案补编

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 神王模组

    神王模组

    “我是诸异的共敌,我是盖代的风华。”在无限的时光长河中,他曾有过许多为人称颂的名号……但是无人知晓他的真实来历。他不屑于被人歌功颂德,也不觊觎凡众言谈之中的圣名,更加不会理会愚昧的世人对他的诋毁和抹黑。他去过太多的位面。驻足,留下一段事迹,又悄然离开。就像飘零的树叶,终要归于树下的土壤。他一直在寻找梦境中恒久遗存的家乡。
  • 心机女二虐男主

    心机女二虐男主

    简介:哼,女二驾到,女主滚一边去!她!没有金手指,没有主角光环,没有攻略男主剧本,没人喜爱!她就是人人喊打的恶毒心机女二,作为恶毒女二,上一辈子被盛世白莲花女主完虐,下场竟惨不忍睹,这一世,她要完虐男主,踩白莲,踹飞男二!