The Complete Collection of Travel Literature by Tahir Shah

Author:Tahir Shah [Shah, Tahir]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: travel literature, travel writing, adventure travel, travel humor, Peru expedition, African travel, travel to India, travel to Peru, travel to South America, travelogue, nepalifiction
Publisher: Secretum Mundi
Published: 2013-06-30T18:15:00+00:00

TEN

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Irritated by pebbles, potent emetics and coal-tar soap, the delicate lining of my stomach finally began to give. The magician’s latest wheeze had played havoc with my body’s finely-tuned homeostatic system. Mine was a case in which the scientist had lost control of his experiment. Decreasing the temperature of 104 degrees Fahrenheit had called for drastic action. Gokul had been instructed to find a barafwalla, an ice-seller. He ran out into the tree-lined streets of Alipore and commandeered two blocks of ice which were being lugged on the back of a cart to the nearby Zoological Gardens. Taking charge, Feroze pointed his bull’s pizzle riding crop at the servant’s bathtub; then at the ice and, lastly, at me. The barafwallas heaved their load into the bath and threw me on top.

Solace, at last.

The barafwallas, the Master, Rublu, and a gaggle of snorting servants gathered round to enjoy the spectacle. Each watched transfixed as I shuddered with cold and heat at the same time. First they observed the sea of soapy sweat surging like tainted spring-water from my pores. Then they gawked as my steaming perspiration melted the ice – revealing an entombed frozen sewer rat.

Like an amateur mammoth hunter, Gokul chipped away at the ice with the end of a spoon to excavate the rodent.

“Good work, Gokul,” said Feroze, who was having a whale of a time at my expense. “It’s a big one, even for Calcutta. When you’ve extracted it, put it in the fridge … we’ll do a dissection later.”

Three days passed before I could ingest any soft foods. Even then I limited myself to a diet of soupy daal and mashed bananas, washed down with warm water. Ever courteous, Gokul attempted to nurse my digestive tract back to its original condition. But the damage had been done. Abdominal pain, loss of appetite and severe vomiting followed: classic symptoms of a peptic ulcer. My malady would have alarmed the most hardened of surgeons.

Fortunately, despite the grave nature of my condition, I had an incentive to recover – the prospect of revenge.

On the afternoon of the third day after the trial by temperature, Gokul stuck a hand down his lungi and fished something out. It was a neat bunch of neem sticks. He blew on them lightly, apologizing that they had become dampened by his private parts. But his loins were the only place hidden from the magician’s continual scrutiny. I snatched the bundle to my chest and examined it. The neem sticks were fastened together with three turquoise elastic bands. I hurried the contraband to my room, and hid it beneath the inner sole of my left shoe. Ready for action … All I needed now was the right moment to attack.

When I informed him of my deteriorating gastric condition, Feroze regarded the office calendar on the wall.

“It’s the middle of February, fancy that …” he said dryly. “Suppose it’s about time you got out of the house … can’t keep you cooped up here forever.”

“I don’t know if you understand,” I said, retching.

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