In came a gaunt, dark-skinned fellow wearing a beautiful orange silk jacket and a pair of wide, flared pants that appeared Eastern in origin.
I am a recent arrival in that room where no one is content, hesaid. Do you know it, madam? With its bent-down flowers? And all there is to eat are stale bread crusts?
Strangely, his speech lagged behind the movement of his lips, which seemed to be speaking a different language than the one we were hearing—i.e., his speech was, by some method unknown, being spontaneously translated into English.
You may note that I am wearing the traditionalangrakhaof Churu, in Rajasthan, he said to me.
Talk to the fellow in the bed, not to her, please, said the Frenchman. He is the source of your misery.
Mr. Bhuti turned to face my charge, retaining, even in light of this new information, his gentle mien.
We were, there at the end, extremely irritable, he said. My wife, my mother, and I. We three, who had lived together for many years, never once speaking unkindly to one another, began, there at the end, to speak most unkindly to one another indeed. Also, the skin of our faces became shriveled like the skins of old apples. Also, the color of our urine went from yellow to black as coal. Sounds of suffering came from all over the village. Men fought at the well for the right to lick the bucket.
The Frenchman came to the bed, leaned over my charge.
Aarhus, he hissed. Aarhus is the thread that connects you and this unfortunate.
You talk just buttloads of crap, you know that? said my charge.
A person makes a reckless speechhere,the Frenchman said. Its fatal consequences are feltthere.
Sheer buttloads of senseless crap, said my charge.
Millions of dollars are spent propagating a falsehood, said the Frenchman. That falsehood goes out into the world and alters it.
That’s quite a stretch, Henri, quite a goddamned stretch, said my charge.
Mr. Bhuti cleared his throat and continued.
It had not rained in over a year, he said. To graze against a metal door was to be burned. Graves could not be dug for the heat. I had not defecated in eleven days. We three sat on the floor, hearts racing, snapping at one another as if possessed. In the last half hour, we seemed, all at once, to shrivel, become skeletal, look identically ghoulish; it would have been difficult to say who was the youngest, who the oldest. One by one, we succumbed. First Mother. Then Charvi. Then me. That is to say, I had to watch as they succumbed.
Quelle horreur!the Frenchman thundered down at my charge. Behold the vile criminal!
I’d eat your ass, Frog! my charge thundered. I’d eat your ass whole, you pathetic, limp-dicked, troublemaking—
You’ll eat my ass? the Frenchman said.
For lunch, fucker, said my charge.
He’ll eat my ass, the Frenchman said. For lunch. Did you hear that, Mr. Bhuti? Did you hear that,madame? Is this something of which a person should be proud? This, in the end, is who we are dealing with: a bully, a ruiner, an unrepentant world-wrecker, a self-centered—
Out in the hallway, my charge’s wife was speaking consolingly to someone.
It’s all right, dear, she was saying. There’s still time. Deep breaths. Cab’s best. Quicker. Otherwise you have to take a shuttle. To this, uh, pickup area. A cab’s quicker. And quick—quicker’s good, baby. At this point.
She stepped back into the bedroom, sat defeatedly on thelove seat. Something seeming to give way in her, she brought a fist to her forehead, and held it there with some force, as if, by the intensity of the pressure, she might reverse time and restore her husband to health.
This earnest indication of love had the effect of causing the three of us to fall silent.
—
There within the orb of my charge’s thoughts, I felt him roll over to face away from us, the way one will turn from one’s lover in the midst of a disagreement.
Ah, nous avons échoué,the Frenchman sighed. He remains unmoved.
Damn straight, mumbled my charge.
Mr. Bhuti, the Frenchman said, I am sorry to have brought you so far. And with so little result.
