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Before we walked home through the fields in the moonless night, Saleem took me to a well and made me wash away the aftershave that he could smell on me. Saleems hut rests on stilts above stagnant water covered with water hyacinths.There is a large bed on which everybody sleeps, with his father tied to one side of it.Lying down on it under a tattered mosquito net feels like being in a hut within a hut.(Sitting on this bed on an unbearably sultry summers day the previous year, I had struggled to explain to Saleem a poem that was part of his English syllabus: Robert Frosts Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.) After we got back from the mandir that evening and went to bed, Saleem told me how he had gone out to relieve himself into the water below his hut one night and found himself peeing on a floating human corpse.he day before his results, he had gone to his aunts house, where he coaches ten boys and girls in English, history, geography and maths. He kept saying that he was going to flee home, that his aunts daughter would die soon.He was sweeping the floor before sitting down on it to teach, when he accidentally swished his own leg with the broom. As his mother carried him home, he passed out after hurling himself against a tree near which there had been a murder.
I wake the ironing man on his cart and beg him to reach me home. Think of snakes, rats, lizards, bats, cockroaches, wasps and ants.His schizophrenic father, daab-selling mother and school-going younger brother were all thrilled with his results.But there was an edge in Saleems voice: he knew he was possessed by a spirit.The cats go about their scavenging in silent disdain for the dogs wolfishness. The street on which I live becomes a corner of hell.The halogen air is pungent with garbage and canine terror. If you take Rams name when they come near you, they vanish. Pets create in our lives a realm of dependence and control at their least perverse.