🔰THE GATE OF A HUNDRED SORROWS - Rudyard Kipling - Audiobook

If I can earn my heaven with a penny, why should you envy me? The second is the proverb of the smoker. This is not my opera. He told me everything about my friend Gabriel Miskwit, the half-breed. From the moon's setting to the dawn, six weeks before death. And I learned the story from his lips, hand in hand, who answered all my questions. So here's what I said. It's located between the Calderaio viaduct and the Pipa Cannon vendors' district. No more than a hundred meters in the airline from the mosque of Wazir Khan. I'm not going to scruple to give you these details. Because I challenge anyone, however much they think they know the city, to find the door. You could cross the same path a hundred times over. But I can't help you. We used to call it the "black smoke tunnel", But obviously the original name is totally different. It's so tight that a donkey stuck in it won't be able to pass. And in un punto, proprio prima della porta, the first thing I did was to get in. The facade of a house that spurs forces people to walk around. Ma via, it's not really a door, it's a house. Five years ago, she was holding the old Fu Qing. He was making the call in Calcutta and they said he killed the drunk's wife. That's why I stopped drinking rum from Quattro soldier and died of black smoke. Then he came north and opened the door. It was a place where you could relax in peace and quiet. Bada, it was a fumeria pucca, respectable, Not one of those stifling, oppressive, chandu kana that you can find all over the city. No, the old man knew his trade well and was very clean, for a Chinese. He was a one-eyed little warrior, a little over a meter and a half tall, He was missing his middle finger on both hands. Nevertheless, he was the most skilled black pill wrapping man I had ever seen. It didn 't even seem like smoking had any effect on him. And that thing that he smoked day and night, night and day, was an extraordinary thing. I've been smoking for five years now and I can handle a confrontation with anyone. But with respect to Fu Qing, I was a beginner. Despite this, the old man was attached to his money, very attached, This is something I can't understand. I heard he put it away a lot before he died, But now everything is gone to the nephew and the old man has returned to China to be buried. He had the grand room on the piano superior, where his best clients met, Linda, come on, you're going to have to play some new music. In one corner there was the Joss of Fu Qing, roughly as much as his master, And he always had incense sticks burning under his nose, But when the pipes were working at full speed, their scent was no longer felt. In front of Joss was the bar of Fu Qing. He had spent a good part of his savings on it. And every time a new customer came to the door, I took him to see her. It was lacquered black, with red and gold writing. And I heard that Fu Qing was behind the Chinese. I don't know if this is true or not, but I was arriving first. I was standing at the foot of the bar. It was a quiet corner, I said. And every now and then through the window came a kind of breeze from the alley. A part le stuoie, in the room there was nothing else, Only the bar and the old Joss are all green and blue and purple for his age and height. Fu Qing never told us why he called the place the Gate of Hundred Dolors. He was the only Chinese I knew to use fancy names that sounded bad. In genre sono floreali, come see a Calcutta. I'm going to see you. Why we find out for ourselves. There's nothing that takes you as much if you're white as the black smoke. A giallo is made differently, the opium does not make him quasi effect, Both white and black suffer the consequences. Obviously there are people for whom smoking does not in principle have the same effect as tobacco, If they fall asleep a little, come another one if they fall asleep naturally. And the next morning I'm almost in shape for work. Well, I was like that at first, but I've been going on assiduously for five years and now it's different. I had an old aunt from the Agra party. When he died he left me a small sum. About 60 rupees a month, I assure you. I don't remember much, I remember a time, I seem to be hundreds and hundreds of years ago, In which I earned my 300 rupees a month, I'm working in a big legname firm in Calcutta. I didn't stay long in that position and the black smoke didn't allow other occupations. And even if he did not rise very high in comparison to the media of the smokers, I couldn't do a day's work now when I'm gone from my life. After all 60 rupees are my amount. When old Fung Ching was alive, he risked his life for me, He gave me about half a penny to live on, I ate very little, and he kept the rest to himself. I was free to go to the door at any time of day or night. I could smoke and sleep there as long as I wanted. So I'm not going to. So the old man has made a lot of money with me, but it doesn't matter. Nothing mattered much to me, and then the money always came fresh every month. We were in the tenth hour of the door when the place opened. I, due to the grandfather of some of the government offices of Anarchulli, I was fired and no longer able to pay. No one can smoke black smoke continuously, having to work during the day. A Chinese, who was the grandson of Fung Ching, A woman from the bazaar who had made a lot of money but didn't know how to come, I'm an English fan, I'm a Mac somebody credo, but I forgot. I smoked a lot but I didn't seem to pay. He said he had saved the life of Fung Ching in some trial in Calcutta, When I was an attorney. Another erusian, come to me, from Madras, A half-breed and a couple of men who said they came from the north. I think it was Persian or Afghan or something. Vivi, ora, siamo rimasti in cinque, but we come regularly. Not so what happened to Babu, But the lady from the bazaar died after six months of coming to the door. I believe Fung Ching put the bracelets and the ring on his nose, But I'm not sure. The English drank more than they smoked and went to the other world. One of the Persians was killed a long time ago. In a rissa notturna near the great well near the mosque And the police closed the well because they said it was full of contaminated air. They found him dead in the back. So, see, we are left alone, I, the Chinese, The Mesticia, which we call the Mesaib because she lived with Fung Ching, The other one is erosional and one of the Persians. The messiah seems very old now. I think it was a girl when the door opened. But as for this, we're all old. Hundreds of years old. It's very difficult to keep track of the time at the door. And by the way, the tempo doesn't matter to me. I take my 60 rupees fresh, fresh every month. A long time ago, when I was making 350 a month. More than a big firm of the name of Calcutta, I had a kind of wife, but now she's dead. People said I was going to kill her, I'm going to go with Dandomi al Fumo Nero. Maybe it's true, but it's been so long. It doesn't matter anymore. Sometimes, I first came to the door, not suffering, But now it's all over. I take my 60 rupees fresh, fresh every month I am very happy. Not happy to touch the sky with a finger, you know, I'm always calm, relaxed and satisfied. Come on, where's the vizio? I started a Calcutta. I used to smoke in the house, just to see how it was. I never took much. I believe my wife is dead then. Anyway, I found out who Fung Ching is. I don't remember exactly what happened. But he told me about the door and I started to frequent it. And somehow since then I haven't stopped. Bad though, that all the time of Fung Ching The door was a respectable place. You could have looked at me. And he had nothing to do with it. I'm with Chandu Kana frequentati dai negri. No, it was neat, quiet and no crowds. Of course there were others, Beyond the ten and the master, But we always had a story each, with a guanciale of wool embottito Everything covered in red and black dragons and other figures, Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, you know what I mean? All the fine of the third pipe The dragons started a lottery between them. I spent a couple of nights guarding them. I used to regulate my smoke on them. And now they want twelve pipes per farli move. And then there are all the laceri e sporchi, Come to the study, and old Fung Ching is dead. Died a couple of years ago. And I left the pipe I always use now, a pippa d'argento, and with stranger animals that stride up and down I'm going to the tank under the stove. I'm not going to use this, I swear. Un grosso cannello di bambù (a large can of bamboo) or A little forno with a little forno It's a bocchino of yellow green. It was a little thicker than a walking cane. And the smoke came on sweet, very sweet. It looked like the bamboo was sucking the smoke. The silver is not, and I must clean it from time to time, It's a big hassle. I smoke the same thing for the old man. Devi aver guadagnato parecchio with me, But I always had to study and clean my hands. It's the best thing you could find. When he died, his grandson Tsing Ling I'll take the door and the ribattezzo. The Temple of the Three Properties. We old men keep calling her The hundred pains. He does things in a very petty way. And I believe that the Amen Sheib gave him a hand. Now I live with him as I used to live with the old man. I'm supposed to admit to every kind of person, Negri and everything else, And the black smoke is not as good as it used to be. I often find a crusca bruciata on the pipe. The old man would be dead. If something like this had happened in your time. For the most part the room never gets cleaned. All the stories are lacerated and spliffed. The bar is gone. It's back in China with the old one. e due once di fumo, In case you need it on the trip. Al Joss non bruciavano più sotto il naso (Joss was not burning under his nose) Tanti bastoncini come on the tempo. This is a sign of bad luck. Come to the truth. It's all turned brown. And nobody will listen to him anymore. It's the fault of the Amen Sheib, so, Why when Zierling tried to burn him in front of the golden card? She said it was a waste of money. And he was making a little stick burn very slowly Joss wouldn't have known the difference. So now we have the bastoncini impastati with parecchia glue I'm going to be in the room. I'm going to make a big deal of it. beyond what the room itself emits. But you can't pretend that everything's going well. Con trucchi del genere. This is a con trick of the genre. And Joss is not happy. I'm not sure. Sometimes a night fundas itself with all sorts of strange colors. yellow, green, red Just like when old Fung Ching was alive. It's turning my eyes and killing my feet like a demon. Not so why I don't leave this post And I'm going to smoke quietly in a little room by myself in the bazaar. Zierling would probably kill me if I didn't go. He's the one who's taking my 60 rupees an hour. Besides, it would be a great hassle. And then I'm attached to the door. It's not easy to see her. Not sure that was the case in the old days. I could not have armed myself. I saw so many people come and go I haven 't seen many dying here on the stairs. I'd be scared to die all over the place. I've seen things that people would call strange But nothing is strange when you're under the influence of black smoke. Other than black smoke And even if it was, it wouldn't matter. Fengqing was very scrupulous about his clients. And he never admitted to a person who would have given him the wedding rings I'm going to take a nap. It's not prudent at all. Going anywhere that has a first-rate locale Not close to farsi customers a little bit by little bit It's hard to look comfortable when you're facing Fengqing. That's why the door is becoming a little more familiar than before. Tra i Negri obviously. He can't risk attracting a white man or even a Métis. We must keep it natural. I, the messenger and the other Eurasian. We are now part of the local community. I'm not gonna give you a loan for a pipe. nor of anything else. One of these days I hope to die at the door. The Persian and Mandras are very weak. They have a guy who lights their pipe I'll continue to do it alone. Probably carry them through my prime. I don't believe I can survive the message of Zi Ling. The women who are the most durable of men with black smoke Zi Ling has much blood from the old man's veins. I also smoke bad clothes. The lady from the bazaar knew she was going to die two days before the moment came. And he died on a clean stool with the guanciale Ben Imbottito And the old man hangs his pipe right above the glass I believe I have always wanted him well. Despite the pressure of the bracelets I would like to die as the lady of the bazaar. A clean fresco with a pipe of good stuff between the lips. When I feel the moment has come I will ask Zi Ling these things And then he can raise my 60 rupees a month Fresh fresh when you want And then I will ask you again Comfortable and quiet to observe the black and red dragons Fighting their last great battle. And then... be not importa The following is added: I only wish Zi Ling didn 't put crusca in the black smoke.