Act One
1.1
A bare stage, epic. It’s a maidan, as yet undefined. Abdul Husain comes on. He is in his late teens, wiry, sullen – an old man of a boy. He has a matchstick between his teeth. Behind him there is a huge mound of mixed rubbish and a rusty pair of scales hangs from a roof. Sunil Sharma arrives. He’s twelve, cheerful, very short, with a thick upward pelt of hair. He carries a large sack of rubbish. He speaks directly to us.
Sunil Know what I want? I want cotton buds. I want ketchup packets. Because silver paper is good. Chocolate. Cigarettes. Cigarette packets. Umbrellas. That’s what I want. Cardboard. Plastic. Batteries. Shoelaces. Metal. Problem: there’s always a wall. Wherever you go, you’ll find a new wall. With barbed wire, or bottled glass. All the time, new guards, new dogs, new guns. There’s a lot of good stuff in the world, that’s why they’ve electrified the fences. Who’s been to the airport? Mumbai airport? Anybody? It’s not just that rich people don’t know what they’ve got. They don’t even know what they throw away. They don’t notice. We notice. The airport’s bigger every day. That’s why there’s more of us. Picking garbage. Me, I’m always searching for a place. I don’t know where it is, but I know it’s there. Beyond Airport Road. It must be. Somewhere, there’s a place full of rubbish no one else has thought of.
1.2
At the back of the stage a concrete wall, covered by sunshine-yellow ads for Italianate floor tiles. Along its whole length, the repeated words BEAUTIFUL FOREVER BEAUTIFUL FOREVER BEAUTIFUL FOREVER. At once Sunil is joined by Kalu, who is fifteen, on a motorbike, in camouflage cargo-pants, dark-skinned, with long, lank hair. Abdul is sorting his pile of rubbish.
Kalu Sunil, are you coming out? Are you coming out with me tonight?
Sunil does not answer.
What’s happening, man? What, you don’t want to make money?
Sunil I want to make money.
Kalu Then why aren’t you coming, man? You want to pick plastic all your life?
Sunil smiles in anticipation.
Sunil Kalu, do Om Shanti Om.
Kalu No.
Sunil Please.
Kalu Come out with me, I’ll do Om Shanti Om. Fuck, I’ll do Bhool Bhulaiya. I’ll do King Kong. I’ll do fucking Bruce Lee if that’s what you want. I’ll do the whole lot if you’ll just help.
Kalu looks a moment. Then he does a beautiful brief parody of Deepika sashaying in Om Shanti Om.
Well?
He shakes his head.
Oh I see, so you’re scared, are you, man?
Sunil I’m not scared.
Kalu Scared of ghosts?
Sunil I’m not scared of ghosts. I go out at night.
Kalu It’s sitting there. The stuff is sitting there, man. In the recycling bins.
Sunil How did you find it?
Kalu I have contacts. They told me where it was.
Sunil They told you? Somebody told you where to find metal? Why would they do that? You’re lying, man.
Kalu It’s over by the airport. Where they fix the planes. Up over the wire and we’re in.
Sunil finally tells him the reason.
Sunil Kalu, you look like a thief.
Kalu I am a thief.
Sunil They can tell. The airport people can tell. They take one look in your eyes. Once you get a thief-face you’re finished. I don’t want that face.
Kalu What about you? You look like a runt. You look like a stub. How can you bear being so small?
Sunil My father was a picker. I’m a picker. Thieves are different.
Kalu Tell you how we’re different. We make a living. That’s how we’re different. There’s no future in plastic. Metal – that’s where the money is. Tonight, I’ll do the job, then I’ll go to Noodle-wali, eat chilli chicken and rice. Isn’t that what you want? To eat chilli chicken and rice? You really saying no?
Abdul looks up.
Abdul He’s saying no.
Kalu Abdul you’re a prick. You handle stolen goods all day, but you don’t have the balls to go and get them.
Abdul I’m not a picker. I’m a sorter.
Sunil Yes. But I’m a garbage picker. I’m not a thief.
Kalu gets on his motorbike and goes.
1.3
Sunil opens his trash sack to check its contents. Manju Waghekar is in line, with a pail of water. Behind, a queue of women with buckets at a spluttering standpipe. Manju is tall, poised, eighteen, at ease with her beauty. She speaks to us.
Manju Mrs Dalloway. I don’t understand it. It’s a book by the English writer Virginia Woolf. Do you understand it? Who are these people? What do they do? I know nothing of these people. I try to read it. Clarissa goes out to get flowers. Later she gives a party. I’m trying to learn it, that’s my only chance, I’m going to learn it by heart.
From offstage, the sound of Manju’s mother, Asha, calling for her.
Asha (off) Manju!
Manju It’s not easy. When I read, my mind slips down the page. The First World War, I know about that, I’ve heard of that. But the rest. And like why she wrote the book, why we should care.
Asha (off) Manju!
Manju In books I’ve read before, there’s always a story. I’m looking for a story.
Asha (off) Manju! Where are you? Come here. What’s happened to you?
Manju If there were a story, it would be easier to learn.
1.4
Sunil goes over to Abdul with his sack.
Sunil Abdul.
Abdul Sunil.
Sunil Are you going to weigh it?
Abdul takes the sack and puts it on the scales.
There’s enough here we can go to the video parlour.
Abdul says nothing.
Abdul, you have to do something besides work. Come play Bomber-Man. Come play Metal Slug Three.
Abdul If I don’t work the family don’t eat.
Sunil You’re making more money than any of us. Everyone knows. The Husains are doing well.
Abdul pulls out a sheaf of rupees.
Hey, put it on again, I didn’t see.
Abdul But I saw.
Sunil Yeah. But I didn’t.
Abdul reluctantly puts the bag back on the scales. Meanwhile:
You never have fun. You never get high.
Abdul I work. There’s eleven in my family. That’s what I do. What do I tell you? What’s the first rule? What is it?
Sunil / Abdul (mockingly, together) ‘Keep your head down, keep out of trouble…’
Sunil So you keep saying.
Abdul Keep out of trouble. It’s the only rule.
Sunil You’re too cautious.
Abdul And you’re too flashy, Sunil. It’s good to be careful. Because it only takes one thing. Just one.
He has raised his voice, in absolute conviction.
Sunil I know what you are. You’re a coward. You’re frightened. You’re frightened of life.
Abdul So what if I’m a coward? I stay alive, don’t I?
He hands over the rupees.
Sunil Thank you. Is that it?
Abdul That’s it.
Sunil That’s good stuff.
Abdul It’s all good stuff.
Sunil I thought I’d get more. I thought you’d pay me more.
He waits a moment, as if to bring pressure.
Abdul.
Abdul Then bring more.
Copyright © 2014, 2015 by David Hare
