The Satanic Verses

in a house that had fallen unusually silent, and when he called for the servants there was no reply. The stillness had spread into the potato fields, too; but under the broad, spreading roof of the Titlipur tree all was hustle and bustle. The panchayat had voted unanimously to obey the command of the Archangel Gibreel, and the villagers had begun to prepare for departure. At first the Sarpanch had wanted the carpenter Isa to construct litters that could be pulled by oxenand on which the old and infirm could ride, but that idea had been knocked on the head by his own wife, who told him, ‘You don’t listen, Sarpanch sahibji! Didn’t the angel say we must walk? Well then, that is what we must do.’ Only the youngest of infants were to be excused the foot-pilgrimage, and they would be carried (it had been decided) on the backs of all the adults, in rotation. The villagers had pooled all their resources, and heaps of potatoes, lentils, rice, bitter gourds, chillies, aubergines and other vegetables were piling up next to the panchayat bough. The weight of the provisions was to be evenly divided between the walkers. Cooking utensils, too, were being gathered together, and whatever bedding could be found. Beasts of burden were to be taken, and a couple of carts carrying live chickens and such, but in general the pilgrims were under the Sarpanch’s instructions to keep personal belongings to a minimum. Preparations had been under way since before dawn, so that by the time an incensed Mirza Saeed strode into the village, things were well advanced. For forty-five minutes the zamindar slowed things up by making angry speeches and shaking individual villagers by the shoulders, but then, fortunately, he gave up and left, so that the work could be continued at its former, rapid pace. As the Mirza departed he smacked his head repeatedly and called people names, such as
loonies, simpletons
, very bad words, but he had always been a godless man, the weak end of a strong line, and he had to be left to find his own fate; there was no arguing with men like him.
    By sunset the villagers were ready to depart, and the Sarpanch told everyone to rise for prayers in the small hours so that they could leave immediately afterwards and thus avoid the worst heat of the day. That night, lying down on his mat beside old Khadija, he murmured, ‘At last. I’ve always wanted to see the Ka’aba, to circle it before I die.’ She reached out from her mat to take his hand. ‘I, too, have hoped for it, against hope,’ she said. ‘We’ll walk through the waters together.’
    Mirza Saeed, driven into an impotent frenzy by the spectacle of the packing village, burst in on his wife without ceremony. ‘You should see what’s going on, Mishu,’ he exclaimed, gesticulatingabsurdly. ‘The whole of Titlipur has taken leave of its brains, and is off to the seaside. What is to happen to their homes, their fields? There is ruination in store. Must be political agitators involved. Someone has been bribing someone. – Do you think if I offered cash they would stay here like sane persons?’ His voice dried. Ayesha was in the room.
    ‘You bitch,’ he cursed her. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed while Mishal and her mother squatted on the floor, sorting through their belongings and working out how little they could manage with on the pilgrimage.
    ‘You’re not going,’ Mirza Saeed ranted. ‘I forbid it, the devil alone knows what germ this whore has infected the villagers with, but you are my wife and I refuse to let you embark upon this suicidal venture.’
    ‘Good words,’ Mishal laughed bitterly. ‘Saeed, good choice of words. You know I can’t live but you talk about suicide. Saeed, a thing is happening here, and you with your imported European atheism don’t know what it is. Or maybe you would if you looked beneath your English suitings and tried to locate your heart.’
    ‘It’s incredible,’ Saeed cried. ‘Mishal, Mishu, is this you? All of a sudden you’ve turned into this God-bothered type from ancient history?’
    Mrs Qureishi said, ‘Go away, son. No room for unbelievers here. The angel has told Ayesha that when Mishal completes the pilgrimage to Mecca her cancer will have disappeared. Everything is required and everything will be given.’
    Mirza Saeed Akhtar put his palms against a wall of his wife’s bedroom and pressed his forehead against the plaster. After a long pause he said: ‘If it is a question of