Moth Smoke by Hamid Mohsin

Author:Hamid, Mohsin [Hamid, Mohsin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Crime
ISBN: 9781594486609
Amazon: 1594486603
Goodreads: 440777
Publisher: Picador
Published: 2000-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I have to make two trips to Murad Badshah’s rickshaw depot to get hold of him. That’s usually how it works, because Murad Badshah’s rarely in and there’s no telephone number where he can be reached. I once told him he ought to get a pager and he said that pagers are an American idea and the only good thing America’s ever given us is Aretha Franklin. Bizarre fellow, Murad is. Anyway, on my first trip I leave a message saying I’ll be back at eight the following night. On my second I cruise down Ferozepur Road, past Ichra, hoping he’ll be there, because the weekend’s almost here and Raider’s relying on me.

He’s eating dinner, his drivers and mechanics gathered around him in a circle, their food on metal plates on the floor of the workshop.

‘Hullo, old chap,’ he calls out as he sees me, surging to his feet. Or rather, he says something to that effect with his mouth full as one of the younger mechanics helps him get his bulk off the floor.

He offers his wrist for me to shake, because his hands are greasy.

‘Will you do us the honor of joining us for dinner?’ he asks. ‘Tonight we’re having a special feast. Lakshmi Chowk’s best.’

I hadn’t planned on it, but a free meal is a free meal, and I’m partial to Lakshmi myself. ‘I’d love to,’ I say.

A generous space is cleared for me next to Murad Badshah and I sit down, rolling up my sleeves as I grab a naan and get to work. I’m famished, and I can hold my own when it comes to eating, so I match Murad Badshah bite for bite, until he pats his stomach, releases a resounding belch, and announces that he’s stuffed.

A boy brings us mixed tea, milk and sugar already present in generous quantities, and Murad Badshah takes a dainty sip, the small finger of his left hand extended away from his teacup.

A driver wearing a Sindhi cap grabs the roll of flesh that circles his midsection and says, ‘I’m about to explode.’

‘I saw it last night on television, you know,’ says another, a drop of sweat hanging from his nose. ‘The explosion.’

‘What was it like?’ asks a mechanic.

‘They did it under a mountain,’ explains sweaty nose. ‘The mountain trembled like an earthquake. Dust flew into the sky. And the rock turned dark red, like the color of blood.’

‘How would you know?’ asks Sindhi cap. ‘You only have a black-and-white television.’

‘But it’s a very good one. You can almost see colors.’

‘Bloody fool. It’s black-and-white.’

‘No, but you can sometimes tell what the real colors are. I swear.’

‘Nonsense.’

Sweaty nose doesn’t argue. ‘The blast was fantastic,’ he says to the mechanic.

‘How fantastic could it be?’ Murad Badshah asks. ‘It was underground.’

‘The shaking, the dust. It was too good.’

Murad Badshah farts loudly. ‘There. Shaking. Dust. Was that too good as well?’

Sindhi cap pinches his nostrils shut. ‘That was a bad one, Murad bhai.’

‘My bad one won’t double the price of petrol. It won’t send tomatoes to a hundred rupees a kilo.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.