Red Earth and Pouring Rain Read Online Free PDF Page A

soon-to-be-audience,
     my jury, staring at me, bewildered. I pulled myself up onto the bed and typed a short synopsis of the events that had just
     occurred. I need not, I think, describe the expressions on their faces as the words and sentences appeared on the white paper;
     suffice it to say that Abhay walked around the room, reaching out into the air with trembling, searching fingers, finding,
     of course, nothing. Finally, he faced me, hands clenched.
    ‘This is insane,’ he whispered. ‘Crazy. I can’t be talking to you.’
    ‘Why are you so afraid, Abhay Bhai?’ said Saira, a little peevishly. ‘Hanuman’s here.’
    Hanuman hopped over to me.
    ‘Right,’ he said. ‘How’s this? At least half of the audience is to be kept in a state of interest for a total of two hours
     each day. If, at any time, I judge that more than half of your audience is bored for more than five minutes, you will pay
     the forfeit. Boredom is to be defined as an internal state, externally recognizable through signs such as shifting restlessly,
     talking to neighbours, playing with shoe-laces or other items, drooping of eyelids and nodding of head, et cetera, et cetera.
     Do you accept me as judge?’
    ‘You are Hanuman, the best of monkeys. I accept.’
    ‘Fine,’ Hanuman said, smiling. ‘We’ll start tomorrow. Our friend here will have his scribes draw up a contract, which we’ll
     read carefully before signing.’
    ‘Read it all you want,’ said Yama. ‘My scribes are faultless. I’ll be back tomorrow at six. Be ready.’
    He motioned with his arm, a great sweeping gesture that curved his limb like a striking snake, and a large black throne appeared
     in a corner, a throne with square corners and blunt contours and a blackness that is the colour of empty space, speckled lightly
     with the far-away glinting dust of stars. He stepped out of the room.
    ‘Tricks,’ sighed Hanuman, ‘tricks and fancy dress, that’s all he’s good for. Well, sleep well. Think well. I’ll be back tomorrow’
    ‘Thank you,’ I said, bowing to Hanuman, my friend and my refuge.
    ‘Ah, nothing, it’s nothing,’ Hanuman said. ‘You’re a poet and I’m your friend.’
    And then he was gone, flashing out through a half-closed window.
    I was tired and needed to think. Quickly, I told the rest about the story-telling that was to come the next day; again, Abhay
     reached out, trying to find solid tactile evidence of the presence of Yama’s throne, and again his fingers, unfeeling, passed
     through the surfaces of what only I could see.
    Later, I lay awake, listening to the crickets and the swish of wind through the plants outside the window, turning my head
     occasionally to peer at the black throne in the corner, a slab of greater darkness in darkness; faint diamond-points of light
     flickered deep within; I tried to cast my mind back and bring up memories that could be transmuted into stories, but could
     only think of the richness of the world, of its verdant profusion —the delightful perfume that issues from queen-of-the-night
     as its flowers slowly open, the croaking of frogs, the silver light of the moon and the mysterious shadows, the swaying of
     the tree-tops and the way voices carry at night, the way a soft hip fills the palm of a hand, solid and comforting. Overpowered,
     I thought: we are blessed, and how strange it is that we can learn to hate even this, that we forsake these gifts and seek
     release; the sheets are cool and smooth below me, and this I am grateful for, I can feel the breath slide in and out of me,
     and this I am grateful for; surely, this must be enough, to feel these things and to know that all this exists together, the
     earth and its seas, the sky and its suns.

now
    THE CONTRACT WAS DRAWN on fine golden paper, smooth to the touch, in both Sanskrit and English. Hanuman and I pored over it, and, sure enough, there
     were no mistakes, no subtle clauses in fine print that would return to haunt us.
    ‘Fair