The Bombay Plays Read online

  gantaal: It works every time.

  satta: What works?

  gantaal: Your talk of opening and closing numbers is so boring that it has put my cobra to sleep.

  satta: Snakes can’t hear. They’re deaf.

  gantaal: You want the truth? It’s not your talk that’s putting it to sleep.

  satta: Good.

  gantaal: It’s your body odour. Your smell is so bad the government will be forced to give you your own area code. Anyway, now I can safely remove the parrot from the trunk. Your smell has knocked out my cobra.

  He removes a parrot from the trunk and places it on the lid.

  Where is your pack of cards?

  satta removes a pack of cards from his shirt pocket.

  Why a new pack every day? You must have spent a fortune only on buying cards.

  satta: I have heard that he uses a new pack every day. So I must also use a new pack, otherwise we will never be able to predict the numbers.

  gantaal: It.

  satta: It?

  gantaal: Not him. It. A eunuch is an “It.” That is why the name Top Rani. The Head Queen.

  satta: He is also called “The Matka King.” In which case, he is a he.

  gantaal: Fine. Let us refer to the eunuch as a he. Now place numbers one to ten in a row.

  satta places the ten cards on the lid of the trunk.

  The parrot will choose one number with its beak. That will be tonight’s opening number.

  satta: But the parrot is fake.

  gantaal: I am aware of that.

  satta: Then how will it choose the number?

  gantaal: Watch.

  They both stare at the parrot. gantaal makes absurd parrot sounds. The parrot, of course, remains stationary.

  It’s taking its time.

  satta: What are you talking about? It’s stationary.

  gantaal grabs the parrot by the neck and bangs it down on the card placed second in the row.

  gantaal: Number two. Opening on two. The bird has spoken.

  satta: You banged its face down on the trunk!

  gantaal: Are you doubting my powers?

  satta: Yes!

  gantaal: Good. Doubt gets rid of certainty.

  satta: What?

  gantaal: Bet on two. It’s almost nine o’clock.

  satta shakes his head, mounts his cycle, and leaves. gantaal places the parrot back in the trunk. The cobra bites again.

  (to cobra) Again you have woken up. This time you will be in a deep sleep. The only cobra I know who falls asleep to bad smell: the natural odour of this city.

  He keeps the lid of the trunk wide open.

  (to sewer in the distance) Beautiful sewer! As natural as a gurgling brook . . . (to cobra) Ah, you’re getting drowsy . . . (to breeze) Oh wafting breeze from the public bathroom, please come in, come in . . . who needs the scent of jasmine when . . .

  He looks down in disgust. gantaal lifts his foot up and examines his sole. He has just stepped in something. He scrapes it off his foot into the trunk.

  (delightfully to cobra) Knockout. It works every time.

  He slams the lid shut.

  Two

  The brothel. December 30th. Eight fifty-five p.m. top rani is seated on a swing that is suspended from the ceiling by long iron rods.

  top rani: Matka is a very simple game, okay? At nine o’clock each night, I pick one card. I call that the opening number. At midnight, I pick one more. The closing number. I post each number outside. Within minutes the people of this city will gather to check if they have been able to guess correctly. The tea-stall owner will tell the man on the cycle. The man on the cycle will stop at all the traffic signals and tell the taxiwalas, the taxiwalas will tell their passengers, who will go home and tell their household. All those who have placed bets with their bookies will calculate—up or down? If they guessed the number correctly and bet their weekly pay on it, they will have an extra round of drinks. If they guessed wrong and bet their weekly pay on it . . . they might hang themselves from a ceiling fan.

  Pause.

  But gambling is not about money. Only amateurs think that. Gambling is about good health. It makes your blood circulate better, you sleep less and are alert, and your heart does not waste its time on love because it is too busy beating out of anticipation.

  Enter chandni. She carries a silver tray in her hands. In it is a stainless-steel container that holds a red mixture.

  chandni: It’s almost nine o’clock.

  top rani: Has the matka been washed?

  chandni: Yes, Top Rani.

  top rani: Is the red mixture ready?

  She places the steel container in front of him. She then dips her finger in the red mixture.

  chandni: It looks like blood. What’s it for?

  top rani: (indicating her red finger) If you put your finger in my business you will get cut.

  She turns to leave.

  Those flowers in your hair. Are they fresh?

  chandni: Yes, Top Rani.

  top rani: Are all the daughters ready for the night?

  chandni: Except Sudha. She’s sick.

  top rani: She’s falling sick too often. I can’t afford to keep her if this continues.

  chandni: But she’s worked here for many years. She must be looked after.

  top rani: This is not a government job.

  chandni: What happens if I fall ill?

  top rani: I will be plunged into darkness. You are the red light of my life.

  chandni turns to leave.

  Chandni.

  chandni: What?

  top rani: Make Sudha drink lots of water. Water can cure any sickness.

  chandni: Then maybe I should drink water. To prevent my legs from spreading.

  top rani: Ah, Chandni . . . when I brought you here, you were so young and quiet. But look at you now!

  chandni: Thanks to your fine parenting.

  top rani: Don’t thank me, thank God. It is in God’s will. When God left this earth, he left a will. In it, he declared that you and six other girls, now your sisters, were to be placed under my care. That is why I say it is in his will. By operating this brothel, I’m merely honouring God’s wishes.

  chandni: Unfortunately, I’m not.

  top rani: Why is that?

  chandni: God wants me to take these nails and pierce your eyes.

  top rani: Must be a different God.

  He tells her to leave. She exits.

  It’s nine o’clock. Time for the opening number.

  top rani walks to a small wooden cupboard. He opens the cupboard and removes a pack of cards and a blindfold. He walks to the matka, stands above it, and opens the seal around the pack. He separates the coloured cards from the pack and shows them to the audience.

  Jacks, Queens, Kings, and Jokers. They are, by nature, separate from the pack.

  He throws them to the floor.

  Royalty and commoners do not mix.

  Pause.

  Before I pull the opening number, I always do something to honour those who have lost their lives to gambling. I call it my auspicious invocation. It is extremely holy.

  He spits into the matka.

  There. I’ve paid my respects.

  He empties the cards into the matka and blindfolds himself. Then he reaches into the matka and pulls out one card. He takes off his blindfold, inspects the card, and shows it to the audience.

  Ten is the opening number. Time to disclose it to the public. It’s the ten of diamonds. It means I’m going to find a jewel soon.

  Three

  Grant Road. December 30th. Ten minutes later. Enter satta on his cycle. gantaal has fallen asleep. satta seems angry.

  satta: Wake up!

  He blows the cycle horn.
r />   Wake up, you . . . !

  gantaal gets up with a jerk.

  gantaal: Ten! Ten is the opening number!

  satta: I know that, you fool.

  gantaal: My dreams are very lucid.

  satta: Your lucid dreams are of no use if you get the number after it is pulled. Where is your parrot?

  gantaal: Why?

  satta: I want to kill it! I lost a lot of money.

  gantaal: So no more gambling for you?

  satta: I’m betting on tonight’s closing number.

  gantaal: What?

  satta: It’s the last bet of the year.

  gantaal: Last bet? But today is the thirtieth.

  satta: Last Matka bet of the year. Tomorrow night, no Matka. On the thirty-first, Top Rani plays Raja Kheench.

  gantaal: Ah, “Pull the King.” The game that nobody has ever won.

  satta: I know. That eunuch must be cheating. That is why tonight will be the biggest bet of my life. Seven thousand rupees.

  gantaal: Seven thousand!

  satta: It’s all I have left from the sale of my kholi. I have a dead tip. Dead accurate. It’s for tonight’s closing number. The tip comes straight from the hand that washes the matka. Her name is Chandni. She’s a worker at Top Rani’s.

  gantaal: Worker. Why don’t you use the correct word?

  satta: Because I have a daughter too. It’s a shame, a shame.

  gantaal: But it’s not a shame to use her.

  satta: I’m not using her. This jeweller whose shop is at Grant Road goes to Chandni very often for his . . .

  gantaal: Oiling?

  satta: Oiling-boiling. So Chandni revealed to him that for the last bet of the year, Top Rani does not pull the closing number from the matka. He simply bases closing number according to a whim.

  gantaal: I’m afraid to ask what the whim of a eunuch can be.

  satta: Which daughter earns the most money. This year it has been Chandni. She is the first daughter. So the closing number is one.

  gantaal: Who told you this?

  satta: My sister-in-law. She sweeps the jeweller’s shop. She heard the jeweller discuss this over the phone. That is why I say it is a dead tip. There’s no room for mistakes. And I’m not going to place the bet with any bookie-fookie. I’m going straight to the top.

  gantaal: Top Rani.

  satta: He gives terrific odds. My plan is foolproof.

  gantaal: It is the proof of a fool. I am not betting no matter how dead the tip.

  satta: That’s not why I’m here. I want you to look after my daughter while I go and place my bet. I’ve already made an appointment with Top Rani.

  gantaal: I am Guru Gantaal! World-renowned fortune teller! I will not look after your daughter! Let your wife do it.

  satta: My wife is dead. I’ve told you many times.

  gantaal: Where is your daughter?

  satta: She’s just round the corner drinking a lassi.

  satta whistles loudly to call her. Enter aarti.

  gantaal: (to aarti) What is your name?

  aarti does not respond. She looks shyly at satta.

  Don’t be shy. Tell me your name.

  satta: Her name is Aarti.

  gantaal: Did I ask you?

  satta: Aarti cannot speak. Ever since her mother died . . .

  gantaal: I . . . I’m sorry.

  satta: Aarti, I have to go for some time. You stay here and . . . stare at this silly old man.

  aarti holds on to satta to prevent him from leaving.

  I have to go.

  satta exits on the cycle. aarti stares at gantaal.

  gantaal: Of course I’m silly. I’m a real silly man. You are an angel. You don’t need to speak. Look at your wings. You have such beautiful moon-coloured wings.

  aarti is not impressed. gantaal pretends he hears something.

  Can you hear that, Aarti?

  She shakes her head no.

  The whispering. That is Aroramanyu. The warrior angel. He wants to tell you what moon colour is.

  He pretends to repeat Aroramanyu’s words.

  Thousands of years ago, the earth was a happy and pure place. Slowly, slowly it became bad. First the sins were very small—the worst thing people would do was lie. But then the sins increased. People started robbing, stealing, and beating each other up. Then murder started happening. God got very upset. He got up from his big chair near the sun and put his hand out and grabbed all the bad people in his fist. They were all shouting and screaming and choking . . . and God took them, made this round ball, and put them all in that. That is your moon. But then—all these bad people tried to escape from the moon. So God called his biggest and most powerful angel—Aroramanyu! And to prevent the moon prisoners from escaping, God tore off Aroramanyu’s wing.

  aarti does not like this.

  He covered the moon with this wing so the prisoners could not escape. When they realized they were trapped, they began to cry and their tears stained this wing. The white wing became a different, translucent colour. That is your moon colour!

  Pause.

  But do you know why he is telling you this?

  She shakes her head no.

  He is saying that his other wing is for your protection. He will send it to you, but only if you ask for it. You can do it. Through your thoughts. Thoughts are more powerful than words. They can travel a longer distance.

  Pause.

  Open your mouth. Catch your thoughts in your fist.

  She grabs unspoken words from her mouth.

  And throw them to the moon! Keep looking up.

  gantaal pulls out a white bedsheet from the trunk and covers aarti with it. The sheet is old and worn.

  He is saying that this is his other wing. It will always cover you and protect you from harm.

  He listens to Aroramanyu again.

  What? Oh. Aarti, I have some bad news for you. Aroramanyu says he cannot protect your father. You know why? Because your father is so boring, so boring. All he talks about is opening number and closing number and opening number and closing number . . . one of these days I will set my cobra loose on that idiot.

  The sound of a car in the distance.

  Quick, cover your head. (covering aarti’s head with the sheet) Smoking is bad for you.

  gantaal takes the cigarette from behind his ear and puts it to his lips. He sucks in. The car passes by but there are no exhaust fumes.

  No exhaust. Must be a foreign car.

  Four

  The brothel. Ten minutes later. top rani is seated on the swing. But he is unseen. chandni leans out of a window and is selling herself. She is talking to satta, who is on the street.

  chandni: Kya, darling? Ready for action?

  satta: No . . . I’m here for . . .

  chandni: Don’t be shy. I will make your Monday a Sunday.

  satta: But today is Sunday.

  chandni: Kya, darling, it’s only an expression. You want deluxe package or ordinary? In deluxe I make sounds also.

  She moans in complete boredom.

  satta: No, you don’t understand. I’m not here for that. No one must see me talking to you.

  chandni: Okay. Fry your own onions.

  satta: I did not mean it like that.

  chandni: Then how you meant?

  satta: I’m here to see Top Rani. I have an appointment.

  chandni: Come up. I will open for you.

  She opens the door for him.

  That’s all I ever do. Open.

  Enter satta, who tries to adjust to the darkness of the brothel. top rani is still on the swing, unseen.

  You must be Satta then.

  satta: Don’t tell anyone.

  chandni: Man or mosquito?

  satta: It will look ba
d if . . .

  chandni: If someone sees you with me? What do you expect here, your mother’s arms?

  satta: I just want to meet Top Rani. Please.

  top rani: You will.

  He is now visible. chandni leaves.

  satta: I want to . . .

  top rani: I know what you want. If it is not a special night with one of my daughters, it is money.

  satta: I do not need anything. I have come to place a bet.

  top rani: What bet?

  satta: For tonight’s closing number.

  top rani: Go to a bookie. I do not take bets.

  satta: I’ve heard you give better odds.

  top rani: How much are you willing to place?

  satta: Seven thousand.

  top rani: Seven thousand. You do not look like you can afford that sum. You must know something I don’t.

  satta: I need to win the money for my brother’s operation. He has a hole in his heart.

  top rani: And I have one from where I shit. Do not waste my time.

  satta: I am in heavy debt. Do you know Khalil Bhai?

  top rani: You owe that gangster money?

  satta: Fifty thousand. If I do not pay him . . .

  top rani: He will kill you.

  satta nods.

  I do not accept small bets. If you will increase the amount, I will consider.

  satta: I’m not begging for money. I’m just asking that you accept my bet. Give me the odds that will allow me to repay Khalil Bhai.

  top rani: Why are you so sure you will win? Something is black in the gravy.

  satta: I have to pay Khalil Bhai by tomorrow morning.

  top rani: Then it is rude of me not to grant a dying man his last wish. But the problem still is that the bet is not enough. You will have to raise the stakes.

  satta: But I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. I promise. I’ve even sold my house.

  top rani: You have nothing. That is not what I have heard.

  satta: I can assure you that whatever you have heard is wrong.

  top rani: Then it is wrong to say that you have a daughter? Chandni!

  Enter chandni.

  (to satta) What happened? Suddenly you are silent? Just like your daughter. (to chandni) What is his daughter’s name?

  chandni: Aarti.

  top rani: Age.