Free Moth Smoke by Mohsin Hamid Page A

black in the dark and flatters my figure by day. My kurta fluttered behind me in the breeze, and a concealed revolver itched where it pressed against my hairy belly. Darashikoh was inside, for all the world a tastefully dressed patron of the shop, but he carried death in his undershorts and hunger in his heart. I had done all this before, but the thrill, the excitement, the electricity of anticipation never goes. Yes,armed robbery is like public speaking. Both offer a brief period in the limelight, the risk of public humiliation, the opportunity for crowd control. And in both, what you wear is an often ignored but vitally important factor.
    The signal I awaited was simple: when Darashikoh placed his pistol against the head of the guard standing just inside the entrance of the shop, clearly visible through the window display, I was to come in and fleece the place.
    The signal was given and I walked in. If you learn nothing else about violent conflict, learn this: never rush. Take your time, evaluate the situation, then act. When you have multiple tasks to perform, proceed sequentially, or you will make a mess of them all. Think of it as being assigned to read a long, convoluted poem, if that helps you. My tasks at this stage were to enter, control the crowd, rob them, and leave.
    The shop guard, a rather sweet fellow with a shotgun and a leather bandolier of cartridges, seemed almost ready to cry by the time I entered, walking purposefully but without undue haste. From my long years in the service profession I have learned both that the customer is always right and that if he steps far enough out of line, threatening him with execution-style murder is a valid although rarely exercisable option. I am told my smile and manner succeed in conveying this duality of knowledge and so it is easy for me to maintain the utmost respect while inspiring terror of bowel-moving proportions.
    With a cheery ‘If you please,’ I proceeded to lighten the burden of wealth that bore down so heavily upon this establishment’s clientele. My revolver gleamed with the sweat it had accumulated while pressed against my skin, and it was slippery in my hand. I looked about me as I proceeded, and so I saw the vacant look in Darashikoh’s eyes as he stood with one foot on the guard, who was by now lying flat on the floor.
    It happened when I turned my back on him.
    I was encouraging an elderly lady to help her husband remove a lovely watch with a complicated clasp when I heard a sound behind me, the sound of feet moving quickly, and I whirled just in time to see Darashikoh raise his gun.
    The moment is frozen in my memory: the blank faces above their expensive outfits, the colorful clothing on shiny metal racks, the motionless, impossibly slender mannequins, the gasping inhalation that preceded the woman’s scream, the change in pressure as the door of an air-conditioned space is opened, Darashikoh’s left hand flashing up to steady his aim. And then the scream – shrill – a sound that raises hackles.
    And finally, so long awaited that its coming was a shock, the explosion of the gunshot.
    And Darashikoh changed before my eyes.
    It was unsettling, even for me, a man not easily unsettled.
    I had forgotten how much it affected me. I hope you will not mind if I now take my leave.

7
four
    I wake up sweating, staring at a motionless ceiling fan. Damn. They’ve cut my electricity. I call the power company, hoping that it’s just load-shedding or a breakdown, but a smug voice at the other end tells me that my account is in arrears and my service has been discontinued.
    I yell for Manucci, and he sticks his head into my room with a smile. ‘What are you smiling at, idiot? Our electricity is gone.’
    ‘It will come back, saab,’ he says, still smiling. The boy has no fear of me.
    ‘No, it will not come back. They’ve cut us off. We’re back in the seventeenth century.’
    He nods solemnly.
    ‘Make my breakfast. I’ll have eggs. No, it’s too