Midnight's Children Page #2

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Okay, okay.

Hide on...

...like a fat worm under the ground.

Emerald.

Enough.

Begin the ceremony, please.

I'm sorry.

No. No, it's okay.

It's okay. It'll come, alright.

Family history,

too, has dietary laws.

One is supposed only

to swallow the halal parts,

drained of blood.

But that makes the

stories less juicy,

and this was ajuicy part.

So it must be told.

Try again.

What's going on?

- Abba,

- Move!

Abba, abba,

please don't tell them anything...

this house for far too long.

Abbajan... please, what's wrong?

What's wrong? What's wrong you

say - I'll tell you what's wrong!

My daughter tells

me she is still a virgin!

That's what is wrong.

I love my husband.

What?

- I love him, abba.

The other thing will come, right?

It will.

A marriage should

not depend on this thing,

but on love.

This should not have been mentioned.

Down there!

Weapons out!

- No!

You'll thank me later,

just wait and see.

Stay tight!

Follow me, boys!

Women must marry men, not mice.

So you found your voice.

Whose crazy fool's

scheme was this...

...to allow this coward

who hides underground...

...like a worm, into our home?

The bird has turned!

The worm has flown!

After all that,

he actually got away?

I divorce thee,

I divorce thee,

I divorce thee.

That sweet man...

...he set me free.

Please look over here, sir.

Big smile!

Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you.

It's a... It's a beautiful wedding,

sir, really.

Most grateful.

Damn glad I chose

not to charge you...

...with harbouring

a wanted criminal.

Married your daughter instead.

Thank you, sir. Thanks very much.

Go away!

You know,

I've always loved children.

Me too.

But never had any.

My former wife couldn't.

Oh, I'm sorry.

But, you could always still...

Marry again.

Yes.

Well, if I found the right girl.

And, if she would have me,

if I asked.

Yes?

Yes.

And move to Bombay with me.

We're moving to...?

I mean, you're moving?

Safer for a family, no?

Big smile!

Mumtaz..

I've got something for you.

What? A present?

Better than that. A new name.

Amina.

Do you like it?

Amina...

Yes.

Nadir and Mumtaz

are in the past now.

Better to leave them behind, no?

A new name for a new beginning...

Mrs Amina Sinai.

Whatever you say.

Why did she marry him so quickly?

For solace?

For the children they

both wanted so much?

My mother Amina Sinai,

in her new incarnation,

resolved to forget the poet Nadir...

...and fall in love with my father,

Ahmed Sinai.

But love is a rare thing...

Ah Bombay!

Bombay, of which the old tunes sang,

"Prima in Indis!

Gateway to India!

Star of the East with

her face to the West!"

Ah Bombay!

Ah, Mr Methwold.

Mr Sinai. How do you do?

Very well, and you? My wife.

Well, Mr Methwold, I must say...

...the price you're asking

for Buckingham Villa, it's...

It's rather...

well, it's absolutely...

Ridiculous.

Yes, a ridiculously low price.

We're giving the whole blasted

country away, in point of fact.

Hundreds of years of decent,

honourable...

...government and then

all of a sudden it's up and off.

You must admit,

though, we weren't all bad.

Not at all.

We built your schools...

...railway stations...

...trains, so forth...

I was just telling my

wife what a fine man you are!

Look here, Willie,

do me a favour, man, will you.

I've got this terrible headache.

And if you could nip

down to Kemp's corner

...and ask the chemist

to give you some pills.

Servants are all down with a cold.

Otherwise I wouldn't have asked.

Yes, sir. Of course, sir.

Good man.

My own little transfer

of power will also take place...

at midnight on August

the 14th, 1947.

When India rids itself of us...

Buckingham Villa...

...will be free of

William Methwold. Me.

...And the grass must be

sprayed every single night.

Well, absolutely, Mr Methwold.

Well, as you say in Hindustani,

Sab kuch ticktock hai.

Everything is tickety-boo.

Absolutely.

And another small detail, Mr Sinai.

Nothing in the house must

change until Independence.

It must be bought complete

with its entire contents.

Janum, everything?

Not even a spoon can be thrown?

And this lamp... for two months?

Well, Mr Sinai?

Yes sir, Mr Methwold?

One other little condition.

We will take a cocktail here,

in the grounds of Buckingham Villa,

every evening until

my departure from India.

Very well.

Good night ladies,

good night, ladies...

This is Wee Willie.

Local tramp and his wife, Vanita.

You'll be seeing a lot of them.

farewell ladies, farewell ladies...

farewell ladies...

...we're going to say goodnight.

Good night ladies...

Good night ladies...

Sings well, your Wee Willie.

Damn silly name, though.

But you gave it to him.

So I did. Amongst other things.

Good night ladies...

...good night ladies...

we're going to leave you now.

We're going...

...to say good night!

Very good, Willie.

Wee Willie Winkie is my name;

to sing for my supper is my fame.

I hope you are com-for-table

...or are you come-for-tea?

Oh, joke-joke ladies and ladahs!

Bottoms up.

Fix you another one?

How kind. Thank you, Mr Sinai.

Pretty girl, that.

Must be due around

about the same time as you.

Sab kuch ticktock hai.

Everything is indeed, tickety-boo.

Tickety-boo...

I think, Madame,

you're going to have a baby boy.

Joe! My God!

What are you doing here?

You and your politics!

Against the rich.

The rich need to become poor,

and the poor rich.

Understand, Mary?

You need money?

- No.

Pakistan and India were born washing

themselves in one another's blood.

The empire on which

the sun never sets.

But I will not describe it.

I will avert my eyes

from the violence.

Selfish perhaps,

but excusably so in my opinion.

After all,

one is not born every day.

Long years ago we made

a tryst with destiny.

And now the time comes when

we shall redeem our pledge...

...not wholly...

...or in full measure,

but very substantially.

Busy night!

Joe!

I need to get out of Bombay.

They're after me.

We need to do it now, Mary.

The real revolution.

Say you love me.

Say it once.

At the stroke of the midnight hour,

when the world sleeps...

India will awake

to life and freedom.

A moment comes,

which comes but rarely in history...

...when we step out...

...from the old to the new.

When an age ends,

and when the soul of a nation,

long suppressed, finds utterance.

At the precise instant of

India's arrival at independence.

On the stroke of midnight,

as a matter of fact,

I tumbled forth into the world.

Vanita?

Oh, Jesus.

Poor baby...

...poor thing.

Mommy no more.

Oh Mary, so many babies...

Give it to me.

Private room number four. Sinai.

Sinai.

Two babies in her hands.

Two lives in her power.

She did it for Joe;

her own private, revolutionary act.

"Love me, Joe," was in Mary's mind.

And then it was done.

Okay, Joe?

When she gave the

child of my mother's womb

to Wee Willie Winkie,

Mary knew she was condemning

the rich born boy...

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