Bombay to Beijing by Bicycle (34 page)

RUSSELL reacts.

JOURNAL: It is in the desert we leave him to the long, lonely rides, seeing no one for days, consumed by the empty space of existence.

RUSSELL cycles around the stage or into the audience.

RUSSELL: (
straight in, loud and fast
) Charlene don’t like it … Rock the Kasbah! Fuck the Kasbah! Rachael don’t like it … Rock … the …Kasbah … (
slowing down
) Fuck … the … (
sadder
) caps … bah …

He looks around, tries to trudge on but is overcome by the huge vast of nothing around him.

RUSSELL: Hey … (
energy picks up
) who’s that sexy lady ahead at that
chai
stall, (
quieter
) the
chai
stall, the, the,
chai
stall?’

TONI: (
Sipping a hot chai
) Hiya, Russell, it’s meeeee!

RUSSELL: Ugh! (
pedals faster
) Phew … (
Kasbah tune
) I re-ally don’t like her. She’s a wan-ker, I’d love to spank her – Ah!

RUSSELL cycles off and a bit later loses balance and sways, hitting a bad road, bouncing everywhere.

JOURNAL: (
To the audience
) Ow! (
bent over
) The one thing they don’t tell you about cycle touring is the pain. First it’s your bottom. ‘Hey! I’m going numb down here.’ So you stop. Adjust your seat. Then your testicles complain (
blows up his cheeks
) ‘Oi! We feel like we’re being deep sea trawled, mate! Do something about it’. So you stop again, adjust the chaps, ‘Thanks mate,’ get back on, then your hands join in (
they give him the bird then attack his face
). Everything is fine for a while when your arse pitches in again ‘Oi!’.

JOURNAL: By the time Russell got to the tiny desert town of Shergarth he was walking on his knuckles.

JOURNAL becomes a gorilla, throws his arms up, and then becomes RUPSESH.

RUPESH: (
Cork up his arse, glasses – do it a few times, get the audience
)
Namaste
!
Namaste
! Hello! I am Rupesh. I will take you to the best hotel in Shergarth.

JOURNAL: And he did. It was the best hotel because it was the only hotel in Shergarth.

RUSSELL: (
writing in his journal, loving it all
) As the sun started to set I walked with Rupesh, a 19-year-old engineering student, amongst the rolling desert hills. I bet Bill Bryson had it this good!

RUPESH: What are you writing, Russell?

RUSSELL: Oh, a book on India.

RUPESH: India? Come then. I must take you to a very special place. (
They walk – wait for music as you raise your arm
). Is it not vonderful, Russell?

MUSIC: Beautiful Indian music crescendo then fade, continue through scene

RUSSELL: Oh, yeaahh!

JOURNAL: Beyond a sand dune was a grand temple rising out of the desert sands. At its entrance was a huge pair of monkey balls, carved in brilliant white marble and resting in the eye sockets of young virgins.

RUSSELL: What is this place, Rupesh?

RUPESH: It is the temple to one of our most important Hindu gods, Hanuman, the monkey god.

RUSSELL: Oh, I see. Hey, there little fella –

JOURNAL: I wouldn’t do that if I were you Russell. Let’s not forget Borneo, 1927.

RUPESH: Don’t touch the monkeys.

RUSSELL: Why?

RUPESH: They’re pests! They steal things, tear your clothes. We Indians hate them.

RUSSELL: I don’t get it. Hanuman is your monkey god.

RUPESH: Yes.

RUSSELL: And you revere Hanuman?

RUPESH: Yes.

RUSSELL: And you say that Indians hate monkeys.

RUPESH: Yes.

RUSSELL: So why do you revere monkeys if you hate them?

RUPESH: (
Pause
) I don’t get it either.

RUPESH deflates into RUSSELL pumping his bike.

RUSSELL’S FATHER: Son, you should’ve used your Schrader valves there. Now when I was cycling –

RUSSELL: Daddd!

RUSSELL’S FATHER: And that poofter pump is not much chop.

RUSSELL: Pissss off!

RUSSELL looks around. He is being watched.

INDIAN 1: (
mid voice
) Hello, sir. Which country?

RUSSELL: (
look at audience
) Australia.

INDIAN 1: Ah! Cricket! Shane Warne! What is your good name?

RUSSELL: Russell.

INDIAN 1: What are you doing in India?

RUSSELL: Cycling.

INDIAN 2: (
high voice
) Hello, sir. Which country?

RUSSELL: Australia!

INDIAN 2: Ah! Cricket! Shane Warne! What is your good name?

RUSSELL: Russell!

INDIAN 3: (
lips
) Hello, sir. Which country?

RUSSELL: AUSTRALIA!

INDIAN 3: Ah! Cricket! Shane Warne! What are you doing in India?

INDIAN 4: (
raspy voice
) Hello, sir. Which country?

RUSSELL: Australia.

INDIAN 4: Ah! Cricket! Shane Warne! What is your good name?

RUSSELL: Russell.

INDIAN 4: What are you doing in India?

RUSSELL: CYCLING! (
pump flies out of his hand
)

INDIAN 1: (
mid voice
) (
poking
) Gear cycle!

RUSSELL: Hey, don’t touch the gears. They break easily.

INDIAN 2: (
high voice
) (
picking up, looking through it
) Camera!

RUSSELL: Ah, could you put that down.

INDIAN 4: (
Raspy
) (
flicking it like an elastic band
) Condom!

RUSSELL: GIVE ME THAT! RIGHT! STAND BACK! STAND BACK!

TONI: How do you like it now, ‘travellers like me’?

RUSSELL: AARRRH!

ASIF: Hello, sir. Which country?

RUSSELL: PAKISTAN!

ASIF: (
pause
) I think you’re lying.

RUSSELL: AUSTRALIA! CYCLING … er … RUSSELL! Okay?

ASIF: Sorry?

RUSSELL: I thought you were … forget it.

ASIF: I am Asif.

RUSSELL: As if what?

ASIF: I am the mayor of this town.

RUSSELL: Town? What town?

ASIF: Bagaha.

RUSSELL: Excuse me?

ASIF: Bagaha.

RUSSELL: You can bugger yourself, sunshine.

ASIF: Acha! You have an audience.

RUSSELL: Yes, I do!

ASIF: They think that you are a movie star.

RUSSELL: (
Pause
) Oh, really? (
He smiles at them
) Nooo!! Really? I wonder who the think I am?

ASIF: Acha! Puncture.

RUSSELL: It’s okay. I’ve mended it.

ASIF: Not a problem. I pump you.

RUSSELL: Excuse me?

ASIF: I pump you!

Asif pumps the tyre.

ASIF: You must be strong man cycling India.

He pumps vigorously.

ASIF: Strong man. Yes. You must have many wives. Many, many, many, MANY, MANY – BANG! SSS (
tries to blow it back up with his mouth
) SSSSS. (
Pause
) Sorry. Broken rubber. I am pumping you too much. Not a problem. My brother will fix. HAJEE! Come to my uncle’s restaurant. He will make you the best food in India. Something not too hot for your Western tongue.

RUSSELL looks over his right shoulder, worried about his bike. Asif pulls his face to left. JOURNAL enters the restaurant.

JOURNAL: It was your typical Indian restaurant … except for –

MUSIC: TECHNO HINDI MUSIC BLASTS

JOURNAL dances, becomes UNCLE, dances, then stops on needle rip.

UNCLE: Ah, hello sir. You are hungry? You are wanting lunch? We have palak paneer, gobi mutter, chicken markani, … you vant it?

RUSSELL: What’s in the chicken markani?

UNCLE: Er … chicken … yes! And … er … er … markani.

RUSSELL: Okay. I’ll have that. Haven’t we met before?

UNCLE: (
looks over right shoulder
) No, sir. (
To himself to upstage
) White monkey!

He exits.

MUSIC: TECHNO

UNCLE: (
shouts
) CHICKEN MARKANI!

UNCLE dances. He comes back out with the food from same door.

UNCLE: There you are, sir. Palak paneer.

RUSSELL: I wanted chicken.

UNCLE: Palak paneer!

RUSSELL: But –

UNCLE: (
menacingly
) You don’t like India food?

RUSSELL: Yes, but –

UNCLE: Very good. (
He does a half turn and comes back as RUSSELL
). Enjoy.

Russell eats the food.

RUSSELL: Mmm … AAAAGGGHHH!! …

Pours glasses of water in his mouth but this makes it worse. He looks for other options to cool down the heat. Bread, salt, then his shirt)

RUSSELL: (
squeaking
) Where’s my bike? Where’s my bike?

He runs out and jumps on the bike. He rides for a while, calms down but then clutches his stomach (convulses) and gets off the bike. Desperately looks for the loo paper which he can’t find.

RUSSELL: Where is it? WHERE IS IT?!

He pulls out some loo paper, looks around for a place to go, then hoists his shorts down.

RUSSELL is blown across the stage by his own shitting and farting and ends in a collapsed heap. He lets out one horrible fart which is so bad that (wait on laugh then smell it) when he smells it [fight the urge to vomit] he vomits.

JOURNAL: Good lord, Russell. (
sniffs
) Talk about chemical warfare! (
JOURNAL swoons
) Oh, dear.

He vomits to the right once, smokes, collapses into RUSSELL then INDIAN 1.

INDIAN 1: (
mid voice
) Hello, sir. Which county?

INDIAN 2: (
lips
) What is your good name?

RUSSELL: WHAT THE –

INDIAN 3: (
raspy
) Sir, just one photo. Please, sir. Please, sir

RUSSELL: AHHHH!!!!

He runs into the sheet and wraps himself up (quicker in getting there). He’s having a ranting night-sweat.

RUSSELL: Aaagh! Noo … my luck numbers one … ooh, eeeh!

DR CHAWLA: (
wrapped up in the sheet
) Mr Russellss! How are you today? We have taken another blood test. Unfortunately, you are still having the malaria.

RUSSELL: Congratulations!

DR CHAWLA: Congratulations? This is a very peculiar thing for you to say.

DR CHAWLA flaps wings three times then snaps back to DR CHAWLA, smiling.

RUSSELL: (
Freaking out
) There’s a green lizard on your shoulder!

DR CHAWLA: I don’t see anything (
he brushes it off
). You must take this serious – YAWK!

DR CHAWLA becomes a chicken. RUSSELL freaks out. Snap back to DR CHAWLA with stethoscope.

DR CHAWLA: This is very (
pogo stick – twice
) bad news for you, sir. You are not responding (
becomes a dinosaur and lunges at audience
) to the treatment.

RUSSELL: (
hiding behind his hands
) Can’t we try something else?

DR CHAWLA: Well, come to think of it, there is an ancient Ayurvedic custom we could try.

RUSSELL: Ok.

DR CHAWLA: (
sinister intent
) It is called mariji cola.

RUSSELL: What’s that?

DR CHAWLA: You have to drink your own urine.

RUSSELL: Oh, come on! You’re taking the piss!

DR CHAWLA: Yes. I have been since 1996 and I feel much better for it. It can cure many ailments: sunburn, athlete’s foot, indigestion, diarrhoea, gonorrhoea, tetanus, typhus, (
pause
) thrush, acne, diphtheria, flatulence –

SFX: PLANE LANDING.

CHAWLA: – Housemaid’s knee, Grocer’s Itch, Spinal Bifa –

RUSSELL looks for RACHAEL at the airport.

RUSSELL: Rachael? Where is she? Where is she? There she is! RACHAEL! RACHAEL! OVER HERE!

RACHAEL: Oh, Russell! RUSSELL! Here!

RUSSELL lunges at her.

RACHAEL: Oh, no! Russell. Not here. No, don’t touch me! Don’t! Don’t touch me!

MUSIC: ‘TOUCH ME’ SONG

RACHAEL: Touch me … Don’t touch me

Touch me soniya

Touch me … don’t touch me …

AH, touch me soniya!

RUSSELL: Teekhi teekhi teri akhiyaan

Chooke chooke behkaati hain

Dekh dekh na yun mujko

Hosh hosh le jati hain

RACHAEL: Chodh chodh meri rahoon ko

Tauba tauba darr lagta hai

Aisi waisi teri baaton se

Ishq vishq sa jagta hai

RUSSELL: Deewana dil kahin kho jaye na

Humse khata koi ho jaaye na

RACHAEL: Touch me … don’t touch me …

Don’t touch

Don’t touch me …

Touch me

RUSSELL and RACHAEL break out into a Bollywood dance number, cooing and jumping about, almost kissing, then not. When the dancing finishes they start fucking.

MUSIC: ‘FUCK THE PAIN AWAY’ by the Peaches

RACHAEL stands; he goes down on her, swings her to the side doggy style. He fucks to the audience, eyes fluttering, a miserable orgasm, vulnerable, sad.

RUSSELL: (
apologetic
) I’M COMING, I’M COMING I’M …

Rachael disengages

RACHAEL: Oh, Russell! That was fabulous! (
she rubs his back
) Well done.

RUSSELL: Wasn’t it! Hey, you couldn’t get me a glass of water?

RACHAEL: Sure honey. Back in a minute.

Russell starts writing.

RUSSELL: ‘I’m coming!’ ‘Oh, Russell. That was fabulous.’

JOURNAL: (
cigarette
) I say, Russell. Took no prisoners there. A real naval engagement.

BALLS: So that’s why we’ve got concussion.

BUM: I had a finger down my throat.

RUSSELL’S FATHER: And I had a stiffy that I could’ve poked a dog from under a bed with!

RUSSELL: Eww! Daaad! Get out of here! All of you.

RACHAEL returns with the water. RUSSELL drinks it.

RACHAEL: Who you talking to honey?

RUSSELL: (
hiding the journal
) No one.

RACHAEL: Russell, you know how you said you’d always love me?

RUSSELL: Yes.

RACHAEL: And that if I ever had anything to tell you you’d understand?

RUSSELL: (
worried
) Yes?

RACHAEL: And if for whatever reason our plans changed that that would always be okay with you?