[i]
Ever since that book of mine, Animal's People, came out, I have become quite a traveller. Used to be that hardly did I set my four feet outside the bastis of Khaufpur. Only once in my life had I left the city, which was when I quit the vicious world of humanity and ran away to live in the jungle. But since my story was published, the humans have sought to reclaim me as one of theirs, and I've been invited to scores of places – their names clamour in my mouth – London, Oslo, Roma, Napoli, Stockholm, Yerushalayim . . .
Most recently I was in Paris, to promote the edition française of my book, which has been nicely translated by Dominique Vitalyos. 'You do crazy things,' Farouq had said to me in the original. In translation this became 'Tu fais les trucs dingues', which makes me laugh aloud from sheer pleasure in the sound of the words.
The lady from the publisher accompanies me everywhere, to radio and TV studios, to cafés where I sit and practise warnings. 'La société va s'éffondrer,' I endlessly intone. 'Aujourd'hui c'est nous, mais demain c'est vous qui serez les pauvres, c'est vous qui êtes le peuple d'Apokalis.' If you don't know français, it means, 'Society is going to the dogs. Today it's us, but tomorrow it's you who'll be poor. It's you who are the people of the Apocalypse.' This has them all nodding.