India Song Page #3

They say you're Venetian.

My father was French.

My mother was from Venice.

I kept her name.

At first, I would have said English.

That happens.

Are there any

who never get used to it?

Almost everyone does.

Did my husband mention the islands?

I'd be pleased to come.

You write, I believe?

I once thought I could.

Did someone tell you?

Yes. But I would have guessed.

Your way of being silent.

I gave it up.

Monsieur Stretter used to write?

He used to, yes. He too,

and then...

And you?

I never tried.

You think it's not worth it,

don't you?

Well... Yes, if you like.

You play music?

Sometimes.

Less, in the last few years.

Why?

Hard to put into words.

Tell me.

A sort of pain

is linked to music...

...for some time now, for me.

In Venice, already, very young,

18 years old,

music,

to the point of madness.

Until a sort of suicide,

already.

She says she no longer knows

how to play.

What's happening?

The Vice-Consul is dancing

with the Spanish ambassador's wife.

He's talking of leprosy.

Will you have to dance with him?

I don't have to do anything, but...

He was here last night...

...near the tennis courts.

He sleeps badly.

- She broke away from him...

- What happened?

Something he said,

must have frightened her.

What do people fear?

Repulsion is a feeling

you know nothing about.

I don't understand.

What do you mean?

Horror...

Come to the bar.

I'm an old friend

of Madame Stretter.

We've not met.

George Crown.

Help yourselves.

There's no one at the bar.

- His words are a diversion.

- Ready to flee.

And yet...

He's still looking at you.

Seems she doesn't dare

go out in the park.

What is he talking about

with that man from the club?

Childhood. And her,

the French Ambassador's wife.

Why is he waiting to leave?

To be thrown out, probably.

- The mad beggar woman.

- The one who laughs.

It is said she's from Laos

It doesn't seem possible...

- A beggar woman is in the grounds.

- I Know.

The one who sings.

Don't you know her?

But no, you're new to Calcutta.

She sings, I believe,

a song from Savannakhet.

In Laos.

She intrigues us.

I keep thinking

it can't be possible.

We're thousands of miles

from Indochina.

How could she?

I've heard her in the avenue,

early in the morning.

It's a happy song.

Children sing it over there.

She must have come down

the river valleys.

But how did she manage

to cross the Cardamoms?

She's completely mad.

Yes. But she's alive

She comes to the islands sometimes.

How?

No one knows.

Perhaps she follows you.

Follows the whites.

That happens. For food.

- Where is he?

- By the bar.

Drinks too much.

It'll end badly.

We could see him at night

through the window of his room.

Pacing...

Pacing, day and night.

Day and night.

He'd call down death

on Lahore.

And fire.

He shouted too.

Disconnected words.

And laughed.

Isn't there in each of us

a chance, just one...

...of being like him in Lahore?

But one knows about leprosy

before coming. One knows.

Perhaps he thought the gardens

were empty. In that light...

...that fog...

Look at the sky... sick.

That thickness... that dirt,

throughout the night.

He said he wanted leprosy.

He is anger itself.

Against whom?

Against what?

Doesn't need a reason.

They're dancing.

Look.

She's always loved dancing.

Some months ago, in Chandernagore,

they were found in a cheap hotel.

Trying to die together.

Hard to believe.

An ambulance back to Calcutta.

The truth came out in the end.

For no reason, they say.

"Indifference to life".

Or the opposite.

People confuse things.

No. There's a definite equivalence.

The same appearances.

People always talked about her...

...a great deal.

About that love.

And the islands.

The delta islands.

That's all they'll miss of India.

What would they have done

without them?

About heat.

About fear.

Leprosy, and hunger.

About the Vice-Consul

from Lahore...

...those dead...

About that sweetness...

We wondered:

All those books...

...those sleepless nights

in the delta.

Those tears?

India Song...

On his way to the office,

he whistled India Song.

He said to the club director:

"At home in Neuilly, in the drawing room,

there's a black piano. "

"India Song is on the music-rest. "

"My mother played it. "

"The score has been there

since she died. "

Day already.

No one speaks.

They seem to be waiting.

The tennis courts were deserted.

A bicycle was there.

I noticed they were deserted,

after she'd gone.

The air was torn apart.

Her skirt, against the trees.

She looked at me.

I didn't know you existed.

Calcutta has become

a form of hope for me.

I love Michael Richardson.

I'm not free of that love.

I know.

I love you like that,

in that love.

It doesn't matter.

I sound odd.

Do you hear my voice?

It frightens them.

Yes.

Who is she?

I shot myself in Laos,

but didn't die.

The others separate me from Lahore.

I don't.

Lahore is me.

You understand too?

Yes. Don't shout.

Yes.

You are with me, with Lahore.

I know it.

You are in me.

I'll take you away inside me.

We shall fire on

the Shalimar lepers.

You can't avoid it.

I didn't need to dance with you

to know you.

And you know it.

I know it.

There's no need for us to go on.

We have nothing to say

to each other.

We are the same.

I believe that.

Have love affairs with others.

We don't need that.

I wanted to know

the smell of your hair.

That explains why I...

After the reception,

your friends will stay on.

I wish I could stay

with you once.

There's no chance.

They'd throw me out.

Yes. You are someone

they have to forget.

Like Lahore.

Yes.

What will become of me?

You'll be posted

far from Calcutta.

That's what you want?

Yes.

Very well.

When will it end?

With your death, I believe.

What's this pain?

My pain?

Intelligence.

About you?

I'll ask them

to let me stay tonight.

Do what you like.

To make something happen

between you and me.

A public incident.

All I know how to do

is shout.

Let them know

love can be shouted.

They'll be uncomfortable.

Then start talking again.

I even know

you'll tell no one you agreed.

Let me stay!

I'm going to stay

here tonight! With her!

Just once, with her!

Do you hear?

- What is it?

- Better do something.

How terrible.

Bound to happen.

I'm staying!

I'm going to stay

in the French Embassy!

I'm going to the islands with her!

I beg you!

I beg you!

Let me stay!

- Dreadful!

- It's terrible.

And she just stands still.

Once!

Just once!

I've never loved anyone but her!

Do go home.

You've had too much to drink.

He did it deliberately.

No sense of...

What happened?

How strange.

Indecent.

Impossible to understand.

It's terrible.

How dreadful!

They've got him.

He's not resisting.

He's outside. Locked out.

Laughing and crying.

Did you see?

He's forcing the gate.

The beggars are afraid.

He's gone.

- Now all is clear.

- What?

Lahore.

He's still shouting.

Where is she?

- In the drawing room.

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