Dhodar Ali, Or The End Of Ennui

Roll over, roll back.
Did you hear the story of these two Assamese bums?
Their house was on fire.
They were too lazy to get out of bed and run.
The flames scorched one’s back.
Pi pu, he said; not in full pithi purise.
The other wanted to sleep on. Xi xu, he said.
Xipithidi xu.
Roll over on the other side.
Yes, roll over and go back to sleep.
Good idea. That’s what I shall also do.

Outside, the Sardar is watering his plants.
The other morning he scared me
Half to death with his howls.
When I went out to see
Who was strangling him, he said
He was chasing the monkeys away.
(The monkeys come from the ridge nearby
They uproot his plants and break his flower pots.
They are his mortal enemies.)
Today he is quiet. Thank god. I can laze in peace.

Dhishiau, Dhishiau.
He he he boss. Police ne tyre mein goli mar di.
Ei chinta mat kar la mobile de.
Hello, JK tyres dial-a-tyre service…

The FM had kept me drifting
In and out of sleep the whole night.
Snatches of Beethoven, Roxette and Udit Narayan
In between muddled dreams of sex
With the unlikeliest persons
And of being back in school.
And now these gun shots.
Somebody switch off the radio.
The radio is the opium of the people.
Was it Papa Hemingway who wrote that?
(You know of course
He did not do half the things he boasted of.
So what the eff? Nobody ever wrote like him.
The existentialist outsider. Read Colin Wilson.)

Today is Friday.
No not quoting Hemingway again.
It IS Friday today.
What difference does it make?
I could sleep through the weekend.
I could sleep through all weekdays.
Nothing happens. Nobody comes. Nobody goes.
This time it is Beckett…

True nobody goes. I can’t go. Anywhere.
Like the lizard on the wall.
Stuck to these four walls.
No, these walls do not close in on me
Like they do in other people’s writings.
It would be a change if they did.
Something different. But they don’t.
They just stand where they are,
Boobs, dicks and all.
There’s Gaugin’s Breasts and Red Flowers.
(Do all Tahitian women have such well-formed breasts?
Why couldn’t I have such nice breasts?
They are called boobs, Ed!
Julia Roberts as Erin Brockovich…
She’s got a nice pair I suppose.)
And then there’s David’s dick.
Michelangelo was stingy with his brush strokes.
David’s dick is too short.

But the Sardar’s hair is too long.
He washes his hair on Sundays.
Then you can see his flowing mane.
On other days, it is hidden under his turban.
He’s got turbans of all color – red, blue, black, brown…
The brown bald patch at the back of his head
Can be seen on Sundays
When he leaves his hair loose.
It looks like somebody cleared
A portion of the forest to pitch a tent.
Ever seen a hill in outline?
Looks like a bald pate sprouting new hair.

There are no decent hills in Delhi.
There were so many hills back home, in Assam.
Did you know that hills are not just about height?
I’m staying one flight down from the moon, Zax says.
Maybe all barsatis are that close to the moon.
But living in a leaking barsati is not the same
As living on a hill. We used to live on Chintachal hill.
That was a long time ago. In my dreams,
I still think we are living on the hill.
But we moved to the bottom
Of another hill some time ago.
This bottom doesn’t show in my dreams.
Others do. Dream bottoms. Bottom of the dream.
How do you get to the bottom of a dream?
Freud didn’t know all.

Last night between Saira’s voice on FM
And maili chadar orh ke kaise,
I dreamt I was ow kuwori. The princess inside a fruit.
Somebody was removing the layers from the ow tenga.
I wanted to see who it was.
But the Sardar rang the bell and woke me up.
I woke up feeling hungry.
I’ve skipped two meals in a row.
This morning’s breakfast will be the third.
My ulcers will start complaining,
My reflux esophagitis will flare up again
And I will throw up some more blood.
But I can avert that with an omeprazol.
I shall have one soon.

Ghadi detergent cake ki dhulai sajana…

Do they have to sing about cakes now?
So long as you don’t remember
You have to eat, you’re ok.
I have to switch off the radio.
Even the lazy Assamese bums built a road.
That is the Dhodar Ali.
I have to build my own.
I also have to xi xu.
I will in a moment….

Notes:
Dhodar Ali: legend has it that the Ahom king of Assam mobilized the dhod or sluggards of the kingdom to build a road which has been known as the Dhodar Ali ever since
barsati: Hindi for ‘rooftop apartment’
maili chadar orh ke kaise: a line from a bhajan or Hindu devotional song
ow kuwori: from a popular Assamese folktale