Yaraana by Hoshang Merchant

Author:Hoshang Merchant
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789352141883
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2015-10-12T04:00:00+00:00

from The Golden Gate

Vikram Seth

4.24

Phil looks at Ed: intense, athletic,

Silent—the sort of man whom he’s

Uneasy with. But Ed’s ascetic

Tension betrays his own unease;

And by now Phil’s free-floating status

(Buoyed by spirituous afflatus)

Projects goodwill on all mankind—

And so, in half an hour, we find

The pair engaged in conversation,

Which, now that he’s regained his cool

And half slipped back to playing the fool,

Revolves round

Ed’s prolonged narration

Of how he happened to procure

A green iguana from a store.

4.25

‘ . . . They had a sale on small iguanas—

Babies—a span long, kind of cute.

Sure, I’d gone in to buy piranhas,

But seeing them, I knew they’d suit

My image: I could take them walking

Through the Financial District, talking

To them about the price of gold.

We wouldn’t make the centerfold

Of Playgirl, as they aren’t too pretty,

But what the heck, I didn’t care:

Traffic would swerve, and folks would stare

—I had it figured out—the city

Would halt, the cops would come and say,

“Get those darn things out of the way!”

4.26

But, sadly, Arnold Schwarzenegger

—I got just one—looks really strange:

His legs keep getting bigger and bigger

But not his torso—Should I change

His food?’ Ed asks with some disquiet.

‘Don’t know,’ replies Phil. ‘What’s his diet?’

‘Salads, and larvae—and bonemeal.’

‘Why that?’ asks Phil. ‘Because I feel

His jaw’s so rubbery and floppy

He may need extra calcium.’ ‘No.

The phosphorus-calcium ratio

Is far too high in bonemeal. Copy

My method: cut that bonemeal out,

And feed it vitamins till it’s stout.

4.27

To feed it bonemeal is to maim it.’

‘You’ve kept iguanas, Phil?’ ‘Oh, sure—

Iguanas, rabbits, dogs, you name it!

My wife—but I don’t any more . . .

(Phil’s speech grows slurred) . . . We got a spider—

Paul and I call it Easy Rider.’ ‘Who’s Paul?’

‘My son. He lives with me.’

Ed frowns at Phil: ‘Why shouldn’t he?’

‘Oh! I’m divorced,’ says Phil. ‘You married?’

‘No, no—’ ‘Well, don’t! Women are turds.

That whole snake pit is . . . for the birds,’

Phil mutters—but his slurs have carried

To Jan, who with ferocious mien

Injects herself into the scene.

4.28

‘Phil, you’re obnoxious . . . (Like a razor

Her voice dissects him) . . . when you’re drunk.’

Her eyes bore through him like a laser.

‘What . . . ? What . . . ?’ In an amnesic funk

‘What did I say?’ asks Philip (thinking,

That’s Jan . . . she’s pretty nice . . . likes drinking..

What’s made her mad?) ‘ . . . Hey, have a drink—’

He offers her a glass. ‘Men stink!’

Janet exclaims with tingling fury.

‘You puke all over us, then say,

“What did I do?” file us away

As saint, virago, nag, slut, houri

Or household pet or household drudge—

God—Claire was right . . .’ Phil does not budge

4.29

From where Jan leaves him, rooted, staring.

He leans in foggy shock on Ed.

Then in a voice drunk and despairing:

‘I’m plastered! What was it I said?’

‘Nothing you meant. You’re right. You’re plastered.’

‘I’m going . . . home . . .’ ‘Unless you’ve mastered

The art of driving straight when drunk,

Once you’re behind that wheel, you’re sunk!

I’ll drive you home. Come back tomorrow

To fetch—’ ‘I live near Stanford, Ed.’

‘Oh . . . well, in that case, share my bed—

Just don’t try driving!—You can borrow

My toothbrush too.

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