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RANA DASGUPTA
Tokyo Cancelled
For my parents
Table of Contents
Chapter 2 - The Tailor: The First Story
Chapter 3 - The Memory Editor: The Second Story
Chapter 4 - The Billionaire’s Sleep: The Third Story
Chapter 5 - The House of the Frankfurt Mapmaker: The Fourth Story
Chapter 6 - The Store on Madison Avenue: The Fifth Story
Chapter 7 - The Flyover: The Sixth Story
Chapter 8 - The Speed Bump: The Seventh Story
Chapter 9 - The Doll: The Eighth Story
Chapter 10 - The Rendezvous in Istanbul: The Ninth Story
Chapter 11 - The Changeling: The Tenth Story
Chapter 12 - The Bargain in the Dungeon: The Eleventh Story
Chapter 13 - The Lucky Ear Cleaner: The Twelfth Story
Chapter 14 - The Recycler of Dreams: The Thirteenth Story
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Praise
THERE WAS CHAOS.
Will someone please explain why we are here?–What are we going to eat? Who has thought of that?–Who is in charge here? Let me speak to him!
A 747 had disgorged its 323 passengers into the middle of a vacant, snow-brushed tarmac expanse, left them to trudge across it through the cold and the floodlit glare to a terminus whose neon name was only illuminated in patches and anyway was in a language most of them could not read; had abandoned them, in short, in the Middle of Nowhere, in a place that was Free of Duty but also, much more importantly, devoid of any obvious egress, like a back corridor between two worlds, two somewheres, where people only alighted when something was seriously kaput with the normal eschatological machinery.
Do you realize I have a vital meeting tomorrow morning? I haven’t got time to be here!
Sir: we have already explained it to you several times. This snowstorm breaks all of Tokyo’s records. The city is blanketed, completely inaccessible. Do you understand? Absolutely no possibility of landing there. Everywhere in this hemisphere planes are lurching as we speak, U-turning, overnighting where they can. We cannot argue with the weather. These things happen.
Three hundred and twenty-three people clamoured for a hearing for their unique Woes. My husband is waiting for me at the airport. I’m only going to get one honeymoon. I have to be back in New York on Friday: my vacation is Over. Over. This cannot be happening. Heads in hands, bloodshot eyes towards heaven.
A queue formed, of sorts, at the one open desk where a man tried to hold off the snaking, spitting vitriol long enough to find a solution. We understand Madam it’s very late yes the little one looks quite unhappy please bear with us.
People checked for passports, money. Do Americans need a visa to be here?–What are the hotels like? Where can we sleep?–
What is the problem here?
The man stood on his chair. Hands raised to beat down the voices, you had to give it to him he wasn’t going to let himself get intimidated, Can you please listen?
I don’t know if any of you has read the newspapers recently but if you have you will know you’ve just landed up in the wrong place at the wrong time–latecomers to the world fair, no room at the inn. Everyone is in town right now and there isn’t a hotel room in the entire city. Well what were you expecting? Every world leader is here and ten thousand journalists and forty thousand demonstrators. Don’t you people watch the news? We’ve had water cannon and barbed wire and rubber bullets and all kinds of other frolics. In our streets! What I Am Trying To Say ladies and gentlemen is that the city is full to overflowing, getting proper accommodation is going to be a problem for you and there’s no point getting hysterical about it. We should be able to get you on a flight in the morning–the worst possible scenario is that you have to spend a few hours here and that, I am confident enough, is not going to kill you–but don’t worry, calm down! we are going to do our best to make sure it doesn’t happen.
The crowd detested him already and as he abused them in this manner a wave of foul language gushed from their several mouths, shivered and swelled and crashed over him full of lonely feelings and terrible thoughts. He was undeterred:
I would like you all to know that my wife is a travel agent and I have already informed her you are here and that you’d all like a place to stay for the night. She’s at home as we speak calling round all the hotels for you and trying to sort you out. We’ll do it first-come, first-served and we’ll try to get you in bed as soon as possible.
The place felt like an emergency ward. Captions on the departure board rustled frantically–TOKYO CANCELLED TOKYO CANCELLED TOKYO CANCELLED–and the packed baggage carousel squeaked like an anxious heartbeat monitor under the weight of hundreds of suitcases it had not been expecting.
You don’t understand. I need to get out of here right now. I was never supposed to be here. I’m presenting at a conference in eight hours.
No–excuse me all of you–excuse me!–sorry sir you’d better make your phone calls now. I don’t think it’s likely you’ll be anywhere but here in eight hours. Can you all try and remain calm please! Thank you!
Somebody made the discovery that mobile phones worked. Even here! The tumult diminuendoed into urgent private consultations and intimate reassurances: No I may not be there tonight, they’re telling us tomorrow now, Of course I’m safe no this place stinks but the people look OK. Yes tomorrow I promise I think you ought to warn Bob that he may be doing the presentation–yes get him out of bed for God’s sake!–the file is on my computer. My Documents. I love