Shantaram

Shantaram
GregoryDavidRoberts
Shantaram
GregoryDavidRoberts
INDEX:
BookJacketInformation
PraiseforShantaram
PARTPARTPARTPARTPARTACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Disclaimer
Shantaram
GregoryDavidRoberts
BookJacketInformation:
_Shantaramisanovelbasedonthelifeoftheauthor,Gregory
DavidRoberts.In1978Robertscommittedaseriesofarmedrobberieswhileaddictedtoheroin,andwassentencedtonineteenyears’imprisonment.InJuly1980heescapedoverthefrontwallofVictoria’smaximum-securityprison,inbroaddaylight,therebybecomingoneofAustralia’smostwantedmenforwhatturnedouttobethenexttenyears.
HisjourneytookhimtoNewZealand,Asia,AfricaandEurope,buthishomeformostofthoseyearswasBombay-whereheestablishedafreemedicalclinicforslum-dwellers,andworkedasacounterfeiter,smuggler,gunrunner,andstreetsoldierforoneofthemostcharismaticbranchesoftheBombaymafia.
_Shantaramdealswithallthis,andmore.Itisanepic,mesmerizingtaleofcrowdedslumsandfive-starhotels,romanticloveandprisontorture,mafiagangwarsandBollywoodfilms,andspiritualgurusandbrutalbattlefields.Itweavesaseamlesswebofunforgettablecharacters,amazingadventures,andsuperbevocationsofIndianlife.
Thisremarkablebookcanbereadasavast,extendedthriller,aswellasasuperblywrittenmeditationonthenatureofgoodandevil.Itisacompellingtaleofahuntedmanwhohadlosteverything-hishome,hisfamily,andhissoul-andcametofindhishumanitywhilelivingatthewildestedgeofexperience.
Nothinglikethishasbeenwrittenbefore,andnobodybutGreg
Robertscouldhavewrittenitnow.
***
GregoryDavidRobertswasborninMelbourne,andhaslivedin
India,NewZealand,Germany,andSwitzerland.HespeaksfourlanguagesandhastraveledwidelyinAsia,AfricaandEurope.Heisnowafull-timewriterandlivesinMelbourne.
***
PraiseforShantaram
“Shantaramisabigandbig-heartedbook…It’sgoteverythingyoucouldeverwantinanovel-memorablecharacters,torturedromances,wildcomiccapersinexoticlocales;storiesofheroismandcowardice,loveandbetrayal,sinandredemption…
“Thisvasttapestryoftalesissewntogetherwiththeskillofamasterstoryteller…Robertshasonehellofanimaginativegift…
“What,intheend,strikesyoumostaboutthisswashbucklingandultimatelylife-affirmingrompofanovelisthatitisalsothekindtheaesthetictriumphweoncecalled-withoutblushing-amasterpiece.”
–CameronWoodhead,TheAge
“Itisatale,byturnsgripping,hilarious,movingandinstructive.ItevokestheraucoustangleofmodernIndiasuperbly.”
–FrankCampbell,TheAustralian
“Shantaramisnotsomuchamirrorasamirrorball,spinningwithrelentlessdrive,dazzlingbutungras-pable.And,again,audacious.Gloriouslyaudacious.”
–NicolaRobinson,TheSydneyMorningHerald
***
Formymother
***
Mayallthoseyoulovefindthetruthinyouandbetruetoyourlove.
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Shantaram
PartOne
ChapterOne
IttookmealongtimeandmostoftheworldtolearnwhatIknowaboutloveandfateandthechoiceswemake,buttheheartofitcametomeinaninstant,whileIwaschainedtoawallandbeingtortured.Irealized,somehow,throughthescreaminginmymind,thateveninthatshackled,bloodyhelplessness,Iwasstillfree:freetohatethemenwhoweretorturingme,ortoforgivethem.Itdoesn’tsoundlikemuch,Iknow.Butintheflinchandbiteofthechain,whenit’sallyou’vegot,thatfreedomisauniverseofpossibility.Andthechoiceyoumake,betweenhatingandforgiving,canbecomethestoryofyourlife.
Inmycase,it’salongstory,andacrowdedone.Iwasarevolutionarywholosthisidealsinheroin,aphilosopherwholosthisintegrityincrime,andapoetwholosthissoulinamaximum-securityprison.WhenIescapedfromthatprison,overthefrontwall,betweentwogun-towers,Ibecamemycountry’smostwantedman.LuckranwithmeandflewwithmeacrosstheworldtoIndia,whereIjoinedtheBombaymafia.Iworkedasagunrunner,asmuggler,andacounterfeiter.Iwaschainedonthreecontinents,beaten,stabbed,andstarved.Iwenttowar.Iranintotheenemyguns.AndIsurvived,whileothermenaroundmedied.TheywerebettermenthanIam,mostofthem:bettermenwhoseliveswerecrunchedupinmistakes,andthrownawaybythewrongsecondofsomeoneelse’shate,orlove,orindifference.
AndIburiedthem,toomanyofthosemen,andgrievedtheirstoriesandtheirlivesintomyown.
Butmystorydoesn’tbeginwiththem,orwiththemafia:itgoesbacktothatfirstdayinBombay.Fateputmeinthegamethere.
LuckdealtthecardsthatledmetoKarlaSaaranen.AndIstartedtoplayitout,thathand,fromthefirstmomentIlookedintohergreeneyes.Soitbegins,thisstory,likeeverythingelse-withawoman,andacity,andalittlebitofluck.
ThefirstthingInoticedaboutBombay,onthatfirstday,wasthesmellofthedifferentair.IcouldsmellitbeforeIsaworheardanythingofIndia,evenasIwalkedalongtheumbilicalcorridorthatconnectedtheplanetotheairport.Iwasexcitedanddelightedbyit,inthatfirstBombayminute,escapedfromprisonandnewtothewideworld,butIdidn’tandcouldn’trecognizeit.Iknownowthatit’sthesweet,sweatingsmellofhope,whichistheoppositeofhate;andit’sthesour,stifledsmellofgreed,whichistheoppositeoflove.It’sthesmellofgods,demons,empires,andcivilizationsinresurrectionanddecay.It’stheblueskin-smellofthesea,nomatterwhereyouareintheIslandCity,andtheblood-metalsmellofmachines.Itsmellsofthestirandsleepandwasteofsixtymillionanimals,morethanhalfofthemhumansandrats.Itsmellsofheartbreak,andthestruggletolive,andofthecrucialfailuresandlovesthatproduceourcourage.Itsmellsoftenthousandrestaurants,fivethousandtemples,shrines,churches,andmosques,andofahundredbazaarsdevotedexclusivelytoperfumes,spices,incense,andfreshlycutflowers.Karlaoncecalledittheworstgoodsmellintheworld,andshewasright,ofcourse,inthatwayshehadofbeingrightaboutthings.ButwheneverIreturntoBombay,now,it’smyfirstsenseofthecity-thatsmell,aboveallthings-thatwelcomesmeandtellsmeI’vecomehome.
ThenextthingInoticedwastheheat.Istoodinairportqueues,notfiveminutesfromtheconditionedairoftheplane,andmyclothesclungtosuddensweat.Myheartthumpedunderthecommandofthenewclimate.Eachbreathwasanangrylittlevictory.Icametoknowthatitneverstops,thejunglesweat,becausetheheatthatmakesit,nightandday,isawetheat.Thechokinghumiditymakesamphibiansofusall,inBombay,breathingwaterinair;youlearntolivewithit,andyoulearntolikeit,oryouleave.
Thentherewerethepeople.Assamese,Jats,andPunjabis;peoplefromRajasthan,Bengal,andTamilNadu;fromPushkar,Cochin,andKonarak;warriorcaste,Brahmin,anduntouchable;Hindu,Muslim,Christian,Buddhist,Parsee,Jain,Animist;fairskinanddark,greeneyesandgoldenbrownandblack;everydifferentfaceandformofthatextravagantvariety,thatincomparablebeauty,India.
AlltheBombaymillions,andthenonemore.Thetwobestfriendsofthesmugglerarethemuleandthecamel.Mulescarrycontrabandacrossabordercontrolforasmuggler.Camelsareunsuspectingtouristswhohelpthesmugglertogetacrosstheborder.Tocamouflagethemselves,whenusingfalsepassportsandidentificationpapers,smugglersinsinuatethemselvesintothecompanyoffellowtravelers-camels,who’llcarrythemsafelyandunobtrusivelythroughairportorbordercontrolswithoutrealizingit.
Ididn’tknowallthatthen.Ilearnedthesmugglingartsmuchlater,yearslater.OnthatfirsttriptoIndiaIwasjustworkingoninstinct,andtheonlycommodityIwassmugglingwasmyself,myfragileandhuntedfreedom.IwasusingafalseNewZealandpassport,withmyphotographsubstitutedinitfortheoriginal.I’ddonetheworkmyself,anditwasn’taperfectjob.
Iwassureitwouldpassaroutineexamination,butIknewthatifsuspicionswerearoused,andsomeonecheckedwiththeNewZealandHighCommission,itwouldbeexposedasaforgeryfairlyquickly.OnthejourneytoIndiafromAuckland,I’droamedtheplaneinsearchoftherightgroupofNewZealanders.Ifoundasmallpartyofstudentswhoweremakingtheirsecondtriptothesub-continent.Urgingthemtosharetheirexperienceandtravellers’tipswithme,Ifosteredaslenderacquaintancewiththemthatbroughtustotheairportcontrolstogether.ThevariousIndianofficialsassumedthatIwastravelingwiththatrelaxedandguilelessgroup,andgavemenomorethanacursorycheck.
Ipushedthroughalonetotheslapandstingofsunlightoutsidetheairport,intoxicatedwiththeexhilarationofescape:anotherwallscaled,anotherbordercrossed,anotherdayandnighttorunandhide.I’descapedfromprisonalmosttwoyearsbefore,butthefactofthefugitivelifeisthatyouhavetokeeponescaping,everydayandeverynight.Andwhilenotcompletelyfree,nevercompletelyfree,therewashopeandfearfulexcitementinthenew:anewpassport,anewcountry,andnewlinesofexciteddreadonmyyoungface,underthetreyeyes.Istoodthereonthetramplestreet,beneaththebakedbluebowlofBombaysky,andmyheartwasascleanandhungryforpromisesasamonsoonmorninginthegardensofMalabar.
“Sir!Sir!”avoicecalledfrombehindme.
Ahandgrabbedatmyarm.Istopped.Itensedeveryfightingmuscle,andbitdownonthefear.Don’trun.Don’tpanic.Iturned.
Asmallmanstoodbeforeme,dressedinagrimybrownuniform,andcarryingmyguitar.Morethansmall,hewasatinyman,adwarf,withalargehead,andthestartledinnocenceofDownsyndromeinhisfeatures.Hethrusttheguitaratme.
“Yourmusic,sir.Youarelosingyourmusic,isn’tit?”
Itwasmyguitar.IrealizedatoncethatImust’veforgottenitnearthebaggagecarousel.Icouldn’tguesshowthelittlemanhadknownthatitbelongedtome.WhenIsmiledmyreliefandsurprise,themangrinnedbackatmewiththatperfectsinceritywefearandcallsimple-minded.Hepassedtheguitartome,andInoticedthathishandswerewebbedlikethefeetofawadingbird.Ipulledafewnotesfrommypocketandofferedthemtohim,buthebackedawayawkwardlyonhisthicklegs.
“Notmoney.Weareheretohelpit,sir.WelcomeinIndia,”hesaid,andtrottedawayintotheforestofbodiesonthepath.
IboughtatickettothecitywiththeVeterans’BusService,mannedbyex-servicemenfromtheIndianarmy.Iwatchedasmybackpackandtravelbagwereliftedtothetopofabus,anddumpedontoapileofluggagewithpreciseandnonchalantviolence,anddecidedtokeeptheguitarinmyhands.Itookaplaceonthebenchseatatthebackofthebus,andwasjoinedtherebytwolong-hairedtravellers.ThebusfilledquicklywithamixofIndiansandforeigners,mostofthemyoung,andtravelingasinexpensivelyaspossible.
Whenthebuswasclosetofull,thedriverturnedinhisseat,scowledatusmenacingly,spatajetofvividredbeteljuicethroughtheopendoorway,andannouncedourimminentdeparture.
“Thikhain,challo!”
Theengineroared,gearsmeshedwithagrowlandthunk,andwespedoffatalarmingspeedthroughcrowdsofportersandpedestrianswholimped,sprang,orside-steppedoutofthewaywithonlymillimeterstospare.Ourconductor,ridingonthebottomstepofthebus,cursedthemwithartfulanimosity.
Thejourneyfromtheairporttothecitybeganonawide,modernmotorway,linedwithshrubsandtrees.Itwasmuchliketheneat,pragmaticlandscapethatsurroundedtheinternationalairportinmyhomecity,Melbourne.Thefamiliaritylulledmeintoacomplacencythatwassoprofoundlyshattered,atthefirstnarrowingoftheroad,thatthecontrastanditseffectseemedcalculated.Forthefirstsightoftheslums,asthemanylanesofthemotorwaybecameone,andthetreesdisappeared,clutchedatmyheartwithtalonsofshame.Likebrownandblackdunes,theacresofslumsrolledawayfromtheroadside,andmetthehorizonwithdirtyheat-hazemirages.
Themiserableshelterswerepatchedtogetherfromrags,scrapsofplasticandpaper,reedmats,andbamboosticks.Theyslumpedtogether,attachedonetoanother,andwithnarrowlaneswindingbetweenthem.Nothingintheenormoussprawlofitrosemuchabovetheheightofaman.
Itseemedimpossiblethatamodernairport,fullofprosperousandpurposefultravellers,wasonlykilometersawayfromthosecrushedandcindereddreams.Myfirstimpressionwasthatsomecatastrophehadtakenplace,andthattheslumswererefugeecampsfortheshamblingsurvivors.Ilearned,monthslater,thattheyweresurvivors,ofcourse,thoseslum-dwellers:thecatastrophesthathaddriventhemtotheslumsfromtheirvillageswerepoverty,famine,andbloodshed.Andfivethousandnewsurvivorsarrivedinthecityeveryweek,weekafterweek,yearafteryear.
Asthekilometerswoundpast,asthehundredsofpeopleinthoseslumsbecamethousands,andtensofthousands,myspiritwrithed.
Ifeltdefiledbymyownhealthandthemoneyinmypockets.Ifyoufeelitatall,it’salaceratingguilt,thatfirstconfrontationwiththewretchedoftheearth.I’drobbedbanks,anddealtdrugs,andI’dbeenbeatenbyprisonwardersuntilmybonesbroke.I’dbeenstabbed,andI’dstabbedmeninreturn.I’descapedfromahardprisonfullofhardmen,thehardway-overthefrontwall.Still,thatfirstencounterwiththeraggedmiseryoftheslum,heartbreakallthewaytothehorizon,cutintomyeyes.Foratime,Iranontotheknives.
Thenthesmouldersofshameandguiltflamedintoanger,becamefist-tighteningrageattheunfairnessofit:Whatkindofagovernment,Ithought,whatkindofasystemallowssufferinglike_this?
Buttheslumswenton,kilometreafterkilometre,relievedonlybytheawfulcontrastofthethrivingbusinessesandcrumbling,moss-coveredapartmentbuildingsofthecomparativelyaffluent.
Theslumswenton,andtheirsheerubiquityworedownmyforeigner’spieties.Akindofwonderpossessedme.Ibegantolookbeyondtheimmensityoftheslumsocieties,andtoseethepeoplewholivedwithinthem.Awomanstoopedtobrushforwardtheblacksatinpsalmofherhair.Anotherbathedherchildrenwithwaterfromacopperdish.Amanledthreegoatswithredribbonstiedtothecollarsattheirthroats.Anothermanshavedhimselfatacrackedmirror.Childrenplayedeverywhere.Mencarriedwaterinbuckets.Menmaderepairstooneofthehuts.AndeverywherethatIlooked,peoplesmiledandlaughed.
Thebusstoppedinastutteroftraffic,andamanemergedfromoneofthehutsnearmywindow.Hewasaforeigner,aspale-skinnedasanyofthenewarrivalsonthebus,anddressedonlyinawrap-aroundsheetofhibiscus-patternedcotton.Hestretched,yawned,andscratchedunselfconsciouslyathisnakedbelly.Therewasadefinitive,bovineplacidityinhisfaceandposture.Ifoundmyselfenvyingthatcontentment,andthesmilesofgreetinghedrewfromagroupofpeoplewhowalkedpasthimtotheroad.
Thebusjerkedintomotiononcemore,andIlostsightoftheman.Butthatimageofhimchangedeverythinginmyattitudetotheslums.Seeinghimthere,amanasalientotheplaceasIwas,letmepicturemyselfinthatworld.Whathadseemedunimaginablystrangeandremotefrommyexperiencesuddenlybecamepossible,andcomprehensible,and,finally,fascinating.
Ilookedatthepeople,then,andIsawhowbusytheywere-howmuchindustryandenergydescribedtheirlives.Occasionalsuddenglimpsesinsidethehutsrevealedtheastonishingcleanlinessofthatpoverty:thespotlessfloors,andglisteningmetalpotsinneat,taperingtowers.Andthen,last,whatshould’vebeenfirst,Isawhowbeautifultheywere:thewomenwrappedincrimson,blue,andgold;thewomenwalkingbarefootthroughthetangledshabbinessoftheslumwithpatient,etherealgrace;thewhite-toothed,almond-eyedhandsomenessofthemen;andtheaffectionatecamaraderieofthefine-limbedchildren,olderonesplayingwithyoungerones,manyofthemsupportingbabybrothersandsistersontheirslenderhips.Andhalfanhourafterthebusridebegan,Ismiledforthefirsttime.
“Itain’tpretty,”theyoungmanbesidemesaid,lookingatthescenebeyondthewindow.HewasCanadian,themapleleafpatchonhisjacketdeclared:tallandheavy-set,withpaleeyes,andshoulder-lengthbrownhair.Hiscompanionlookedlikeashorter,morecompactversionofhimself;theyevenworeidenticalstonewashedjeans,sandals,andsoft,calicojackets.
“Comeagain?”
“Thisyourfirsttime?”heaskedinreply.Inodded.“Ithoughtso.Don’tworry.Fromhereon,itgetsalittlebetter.Notsomanyslumsandall.Butitain’tgoodanywheresinBombay.ThishereisthecrummiestcityinIndia,y’cantakemyword.”
“Yougotthatright,”theshortermanagreed.
“Butfromhereonin,yougotacouplenicetemplesandsomebigBritishbuildingsthatareokay-stonelionsandbrassstreetlightsandlikethat.Butthisain’tIndia.TherealIndiaisupneartheHimalayas,atManali,orattheholycityofVaranasi,ordownthecoast,atKerala.YougottagetouttathecitytofindtherealIndia.”
“Whereareyouguysheaded?”
“We’regoingtostayatanashram,”hisfriendannounced.“It’srunbytheRajneeshis,atPoona.It’sthebestashraminthecountry.”
Twopairsofclear,pale-blueeyesstaredatmewiththevague,almostaccusatorycensureofthosewho’veconvincedthemselvesthatthey’vefoundtheonetruepath.
“Youcheckin’in?”
“Sorry?”
“Youcheckin’intoaroom,oryoupassin’onthroughBombaytoday?”
“Idon’tknow,”Ireplied,turningtolookthroughthewindowoncemore.Itwastrue:Ididn’tknowwhetherIwantedtostayinBombayforawhileorcontinueonto…somewhereelse.Ididn’tknow,anditdidn’tmattertome.Justatthatmoment,IwaswhatKarlaoncecalledthemostdangerousandfascinatinganimalintheworld:abrave,hardman,withoutaplan.“Ihaven’treallygotanyplans.ButIthinkI’llstayinBombayforawhile.”
“Well,we’restayin’overnight,andcatchin’thetraintomorrow.
Ifyouwant,wecansharearoom.It’salotcheaperwiththree.”
Imetthestareinhisguileless,blueeyes.Maybeitwouldbebettertosharearoomatfirst,Ithought.Theirgenuinedocumentsandtheireasysmileswouldsmothermyfalsepassport.
Maybeitwouldbesafer.
“Andit’salotsafer,”headded.
“Yeah,right,”hisfriendagreed.
“Safer?”Iasked,assuminganonchalanceIdidn’tfeel.
Thebuswasmovingmoreslowly,alongnarrowchannelsofthree-andfour-storeybuildings.Trafficchurnedthroughthestreetswithwondrousandmysteriousefficiency-aballisticdanceofbuses,trucks,bicycles,cars,ox-carts,scooters,andpeople.
Theopenwindowsofourbatteredbusgaveusthearomasofspices,perfumes,dieselsmoke,andthemanureofoxen,inasteamybutnotunpleasantmix,andvoicesroseupeverywhereaboveripplesofunfamiliarmusic.Everycornercarriedgiganticposters,advertisingIndianfilms.ThesupernaturalcoloursofthepostersstreamedbehindthetannedfaceofthetallCanadian.
“Oh,sure,it’salotsafer.ThisisGothamCity,man.Thestreetkidsherehavemorewaystotakeyourmoneythanhell’scasino.”
“It’sacitything,man,”theshortoneexplained.“Allcitiesarethesame.It’snotjusthere.It’sthesameinNewYork,orRio,orParis.They’realldirtyandthey’reallcrazy.Acitything,youknowwhatI’msayin’?YougettotherestofIndia,andyou’llloveit.Thisisagreatcountry,butthecitiesaretrulyfucked,Igottasay.”
“Andthegoddamnhotelsareinonit,”thetalloneadded.“Youcangetrippedoffjustsittin’inyourhotelroomandsmokin’alittleweed.Theydodealswiththecopstobustyouandtakeallyourmoney.Safestthingistosticktogetherandtravelingroups,takemyword.”
“Andgetouttathecitiesasfastasyoucan,”theshortonesaid.“Holyshit!D’youseethat?”
Thebushadturnedintothecurveofawideboulevardthatwasedgedbyhugestones,tumble-rolledintotheturquoisesea.Asmallcolonyofblack,raggedslumhutswasstrewnuponthoserockslikethewreckageofsomedarkandprimitiveship.Thehutswereburning.
“God-_damn!Checkthatout!Thatguy’scookin’,man!”thetallCanadianshouted,pointingtoamanwhorantowardstheseawithhisclothesandhaironfire.Themanslipped,andsmashedheavilybetweenthelargestones.Awomanandachildreachedhimandsmotheredtheflameswiththeirhandsandtheirownclothes.
Otherpeopleweretryingtocontainthefiresintheirhuts,orsimplystood,andwatched,astheirflimsyhomesblazed.“D’youseethat?Thatguy’sgone,Itellya.”
“Damnright!”theshortonegasped.
Thebusdriverslowedwithothertraffictolookatthefire,butthenrevvedtheengineanddroveon.Noneofthecarsonthebusyroadstopped.Iturnedtolookthroughtherearwindowofthebusuntilthecharredhumpsofthehutsbecameminutespecks,andthebrownsmokeofthefireswasjustawhisperofruin.
Attheendofthelong,seasideboulevard,wemadealeftturnintoawidestreetofmodernbuildings.Thereweregrandhotels,withliverieddoormenstandingbeneathcolouredawnings.Nearthemwereexclusiverestaurants,garlandedwithcourtyardgardens.Sunlightflashedonthepolishedglassandbrassfacadesofairlineofficesandotherbusinesses.Streetstallsshelteredfromthemorningsunlightbeneathbroadumbrellas.TheIndianmenwalkingthereweredressedinhardshoesandwesternbusinesssuits,andthewomenworeexpensivesilk.Theylookedpurposefulandsober,theirexpressionsgraveastheybustledtoandfromthelargeofficebuildings.
Thecontrastbetweenthefamiliarandtheexceptionalwaseverywherearoundme.Abullockcartwasdrawnupbesideamodernsportscaratatrafficsignal.Amansquattedtorelievehimselfbehindthediscreetshelterofasatellitedish.Anelectricforklifttruckwasbeingusedtounloadgoodsfromanancientwoodencartwithwoodenwheels.Theimpressionwasofaplodding,indefatigable,anddistantpastthathadcrashedintact,throughbarriersoftime,intoitsownfuture.Ilikedit.
“We’realmostthere,”mycompaniondeclared.“Citycentre’sjustafewblocks.It’snotreallywhatyou’dcallthedowntownarea.
It’sjustthetouristbeatwheremostofthecheaphotelsare.
Thelaststop.It’scalledColaba.”
Thetwoyoungmentooktheirpassportsandtravellers’chequesfromtheirpocketsandpushedthemdownthefrontsoftheirtrousers.Theshortermanevenremovedhiswatch,andit,too,joinedthecurrency,passport,andothervaluablesinthemarsupialpouchofhisunderpants.Hecaughtmyeye,andsmiled.
“Hey,”hegrinned.“Can’tbetoocareful!”
Istoodandbumpedmywaytothefront.WhenthebusstoppedIwasthefirsttotakethesteps,butacrowdofpeopleonthefootpathpreventedmefrommovingdowntothestreet.Theyweretouts-streetoperativesforthevarioushoteliers,drugdealers,andotherbusinessmenofthecity-andtheyshoutedatusinbrokenEnglishwithoffersofcheaphotelroomsandbargainstobehad.Firstamongtheminthedoorwaywasasmallmanwithalarge,almostperfectlyroundhead.Hewasdressedinadenimshirtandbluecottontrousers.Heshoutedforsilencefromhiscompanions,andthenturnedtomewiththewidestandmostradiantsmileI’deverseen.
“Goodmornings,greatsirs!”hegreetedus.“WelcomeinBombay!
Youarewantingitcheapandexcellenthotels,isn’tit?”Hestaredstraightintomyeyes,thatenormoussmilenotwavering.Therewassomethinginthediskofhissmile-akindofmischievousexuberance,morehonestandmoreexcitedthanmerehappiness-thatpiercedmetotheheart.Itwastheworkofasecond,theeyecontactbetweenus.Itwasjustlongenoughformetodecidetotrusthim-thelittlemanwiththebigsmile.Ididn’tknowitthen,butitwasoneofthebestdecisionsofmylife.
Anumberofthepassengers,filingoffthebus,beganbeatingandswattingattheswarmoftouts.ThetwoyoungCanadiansmadetheirwaythroughthecrowdunmolested,smilingbroadlyandequallyatthebustlingtoutsandtheagitatedtourists.Watchingthemdodgeandweavethroughthecrowd,Inoticedforthefirsttimehowfitandhealthyandhandsometheywere.Idecidedthereandthentoaccepttheiroffertosharethecostofaroom.Intheircompany,thecrimeofmyescapefromprison,thecrimeofmyexistenceintheworld,wasinvisibleandinconceivable.
Thelittleguidegrabbedmysleevetoleadmeawayfromthefractiousgroup,andtowardthebackofthebus.Theconductorclimbedtotheroofwithsimianagility,andflungmybackpackandtravelbagintomyarms.Otherbagsbegantumblingtothepavementinanominouscadenzaofcreaksandcrashes.Asthepassengersrantostopthehardrainoftheirvaluables,theguideledmeawayagain,toaquietspotafewmetresfromthebus.
“MynameisPrabaker,”hestated,inhismusicallyaccentedEnglish.“Whatisyourgoodname?”
“MygoodnameisLindsay,”Ilied,usingthenamefrommyfalsepassport.
“IamBombayguide.VeryexcellentfirstnumberBombayguide,Iam.AllBombayIknowitverywell.Youwanttoseeeverything.Iknowexactlywhereisityouwillfindthemostofeverything.Icanshowyouevenmorethaneverything.”
Thetwoyoungtravellersjoinedus,pursuedbyapersistentbandofraggedtoutsandguides.Prabakershoutedathisunrulycolleagues,andtheyretreatedafewpaces,staringhungrilyatourcollectionofbagsandpacks.
“WhatIwanttoseerightnow,”Isaid,“isaclean,cheaphotelroom.”
“Certainly,sir!”Prabakerbeamed.“Icantakeyoutoacheaphotel,andaverycheaphotel,andatoomuchcheaphotel,andevensuchacheaphotelthatnobodyinarightmindsiseverstayingtherealso.”
“Okay,leadon,Prabaker.Let’stakealook.”
“Hey,waitaminute,”thetallerofthetwoyoungmeninterjected.“Areyougonnapaythisguy?Imean,Iknowthewaytothehotels.Nooffencetoyou,buddy-I’msureyou’reagoodguideandall-butwedon’tneedyou.”
IlookedatPrabaker.Hislarge,darkbrowneyeswerestudyingmyfacewithopenamusement.I’veneverknownamanwhohadlesshostilityinhimthanPrabakerKharre:hewasincapableofraisinghisvoiceorhishandinanger,andIsensedsomethingofthateventhen,inthefirstminuteswithhim.
“DoIneedyou,Prabaker?”Iaskedhim,myexpressionmock-serious.
“Oh,yes!”hecriedinreply.“Youaresoveryneedingme,Iamalmostcryingwithyoursituation!OnlyGodknowswhatterriblethingsarehappeningtoyouwithoutmygoodselftoguideyourbodyinBombay!”
“I’llpayhim,”Itoldmycompanions.Theyshrugged,andliftedtheirpacks.“Okay.Let’sgo,Prabaker.”
Ibegantoliftmypack,butPrabakergrabbedatitswiftly.
“Iamcarryingityourluggages,”heinsistedpolitely.
“No,that’sokay.I’mfine.”
Thehugesmilefadedtoapleadingfrown.
“Please,sir.Itismyjob.Itismyduty.Iamstronginmybacks.Noproblem.Youwillsee.”
Allmyinstinctsrevoltedattheidea.
“No,really…”
“Please,Mr.Lindsay,thisismyhonour.Seethepeople.”
Prabakergesturedwithhisupturnedpalmtothosetoutsandguideswho’dmanagedtosecurecustomersfromamongthetourists.
Eachoneofthemseizedabag,suitcase,orbackpackandtrudgedoff,leadinghispartyintotheflak-trafficwithbriskdetermination.
“Yeah,well,allright…”Imuttered,deferringtohisjudgment.Itwasjustthefirstofcountlesscapitulationsthatwould,intime,cometodefineourrelationship.Thesmilestretchedhisroundfaceoncemore,andhegrappledwiththebackpack,workingthestrapsontohisshoulderswithmyhelp.Thepackwasheavy,forcinghimtothrusthisneckout,leanover,andlaunchhimselfforwardintoatrundlinggait.Mylongerstepsbroughtmeuplevelwithhim,andIlookedintohisstrainingface.Ifeltlikethewhitebwana,reducinghimtomybeastofburden,andIhatedit.
Buthelaughed,thatsmallIndianman.HechatteredaboutBombayandthesightstobeseen,pointingoutlandmarksaswewalked.
HespokewithdeferentialamiabilitytothetwoCanadians.Hesmiled,andcalledoutgreetingstoacquaintancesashepassedthem.Andhewasstrong,muchstrongerthanhelooked:heneverpausedorfalteredinhisstepthroughoutthefifteen-minutejourneytothehotel.
Foursteepflightsinadarkandmossywellofstairs,attherearofalarge,sea-frontbuilding,broughtustothefoyeroftheIndiaGuestHouse.Everyflooronthewayuphadcarriedadifferentshield-ApsaraHotel,StarofAsiaGuestHouse,SeashoreHotel-indicatingthattheonebuildingwasactuallyfourseparatehotels,eachoneofthemoccupyingasinglefloor,andhavingitsownstaff,services,andstyle.
Thetwoyoungtravellers,Prabaker,andItumbledintothesmallfoyerwithourbagsandpacks.Atall,muscularIndian,wearingadazzlinglywhiteshirtandablacktie,satbehindasteeldeskbesidethehallwaythatledtotheguestrooms.
“Welcome,”hesaid,asmall,warysmiledimplinghischeeks.
“Welcome,younggentlemen.”
“Whatadump,”mytallcompanionmuttered,lookingaroundhimattheflakingpaintandlaminatedwoodenpartitions.
“ThisisMr.Anand,”Prabakerinterjectedquickly.“BestmanagerofthebesthotelinColaba.”
“Shutup,Prabaker!”Mr.Anandgrowled.
Prabakersmiledthewider.
“See,whatagreatmanageristhisMr.Anand?”hewhispered,grinningatme.Hethenturnedhissmiletothegreatmanager.“Iambringingthreeexcellenttouristsforyou,Mr.Anand.Verybestcustomersfortheverybesthotel,isn’tit?”
“Itoldyoutoshutup!”Anandsnapped.
“Howmuch?”theshortCanadianasked.
“Please?”Anandmuttered,stillgloweringatPrabaker.
“Threepeople,oneroom,onenight,howmuch?”
“Onehundredtwentyrupees.”
“What!”theshorteroneexploded.“Areyoukiddingme?”“That’stoomuch,”hisfriendadded.“C’mon,we’reouttahere.”
“Noproblem,”Anandsnapped.“Youcangotosomewhereelse.”
Theybegantogathertheirbags,butPrabakerstoppedthemwithananguishedcry
“No!No!Thisistheverymostbeautifulofhotels.Please,justseeittheroom!Please,Mr.Lindsay,justseeitthelovelyroom!Justseeitthelovelyroom!”
Therewasamomentarypause.Thetwoyoungmenhesitatedinthedoorway.Anandstudiedhishotelregister,suddenlyfascinatedbythehand-writtenentries.Prabakerclutchedatmysleeve.Ifeltsomesympathyforthestreetguide,andIadmiredAnand’sstyle.
Hewasn’tgoingtopleadwithus,orpersuadeustotaketheroom.Ifwewantedit,wetookitonhisterms.Whenhelookedupfromtheregister,hemetmyeyeswithafrankandhoneststare,oneconfidentmantoanother.Ibegantolikehim.
“I’dliketoseeit,thelovelyroom,”Isaid.
“Yes!”Prabakerlaughed.
“Okay,herewego!”theCanadianssighed,smiling.
“Endofthepassage,”Anandsmiledinreturn,reachingbehindhimtotaketheroomkeyfromarackofhooks.Hetossedthekeyanditsheavybrassnameplateacrossthedesktome.“Lastroomontheright,myfriend.”
Itwasalargeroom,withthreesinglebedscoveredbysheets,onewindowtotheseawardside,andarowofwindowsthatlookeddownuponabusystreet.Eachofthewallswaspaintedinadifferentshadeofheadache-green.Theceilingwaslacedwithcracks.Paperyscrollsofpaintdangledfromthecorners.Thecementfloorslopeddownwards,withmysteriouslumpsandirregularundulations,towardthestreetwindows.Threesmallplywoodside-tablesandabatteredwoodendressingtablewithacrackedmirrorweretheonlyotherpiecesoffurniture.Previousoccupantshadleftevidenceoftheirtenure:acandlemeltedintotheneckofaBailey’sIrishCreambottle;acalendarprintofaNeapolitanstreetscenetapedtoonewall;andtwoforlorn,shrivelledballoonshangingfromtheceilingfan.Itwasthekindofroomthatmovedpeopletowritetheirnamesandothermessagesonthewalls,justasmendoinprisoncells.
“I’lltakeit,”Idecided.“Yes!”Prabakercried,scurryingawayatoncetowardthefoyer.
Mycompanionsfromthebuslookedatoneanotherandlaughed.
“Ican’tbebotheredarguin’withthisdude.He’scrazy.”
“Ihearya,”theshorteronechuckled.Hebentlowandsniffedatthesheetsbeforesittingdowngingerlyononeofthebeds.
PrabakerreturnedwithAnand,whocarriedtheheavyhotelregister.Weenteredourdetailsintothebook,oneatatime,whileAnandcheckedourpassports.Ipaidforaweekinadvance.
Anandgavetheotherstheirpassports,butlingeredwithmine,tappingitagainsthischeekthoughtfully.
“NewZealand?”hemurmured.
“So?”Ifrowned,wonderingifhe’dseenorsensedsomething.IwasAustralia’smostwantedman,escapedfromajailtermoftwentyyearsforarmedrobberies,andahotnewnameonthInterpolfugitivelist.Whatdoeshewant?Whatdoesheknow?
“Hmmm.Okay,NewZealand,NewZealand,youmustbewantingsomethingforsmoke,somelotofbeer,somebottleswhisky,changemoney,businessgirls,goodparties.Youwanttobuysomething,youtellme,na?”
Hesnappedthepassportbackintomyhandandlefttheroom,glaringmalevolentlyatPrabaker.Theguidecringedawayfromhiminthedoorway,coweringandsmilinghappilyatthesametime.
“Agreatman.Agreatmanager,”Prabakergushed,whenAnandwasgone.
“YougetalotofNewZealandershere,Prabaker?”
“Notsomany,Mr.Lindsay.Oh,butveryfinefellowstheyare.
Laughing,smoking,drinking,havingsexeswithwomen,allinthenight,andthenmorelaughing,smoking,anddrinking.”
“U-huh.Idon’tsupposeyou’dhappentoknowwhereIcouldgetsomehashish,Prabaker?”
“Nooooproblem!Icangetitonetola,onekilo,tenkilos,evenIknowwhereitisafullwarehouse…”
“Idon’tneedawarehousefullofhash.Ijustwantenoughforasmoke.”
“JustithappensIhaveitonetola,tengrams,thebestAfghancharras,inmypocket.Youwanttobuy?”
“Howmuch?”
“Twohundredrupees,”hesuggested,hopefully.Iguessedthatitwaslessthanhalfthatprice.Buttwohundredrupees-abouttwelvedollarsAmerican,inthoseyears-wasone-tenthofthepriceinAustralia.Itossedapacketoftobaccoandcigarettepaperstohim.“Okay.Rollupajointandwe’lltryitout.IfIlikeit,I’llbuyit.”
Mytworoommateswerestretchedoutontheirparallelbeds.Theylookedatoneanotherandexchangedsimilarexpressions,raisingtheirforeheadsinsedimentarywrinklesandpursingtheirlipsasPrabakerpulledthepieceofhashishfromhispocket.Theystaredwithfascinationanddreadwhilethelittleguideknelttomakethejointonthedustysurfaceofthedressingtable.
“Areyousurethisisagoodidea,man?”
“Yeah,theycouldbesettin’usupforadrugbustorsomethin’!”
“IthinkIfeelokayaboutPrabaker.Idon’tthinkwe’llgetbusted,”Ireplied,unrollingmytravelblanketandspreadingitoutonthebedbeneaththelongwindows.Therewasaledgeonthewindowsill,andIbegantoplacemykeepsakes,trinkets,andluckycharmsthere-ablackstonegiventomebyachildinNewZealand,apetrifiedsnailshellonefriendhadfound,andabraceletofhawk’sclawsmadebyanother.Iwasontherun.Ihadnohomeandnocountry.Mybagswerefilledwiththingsthatfriendshadgivenme:ahugefirst-aidkitthatthey’dpooledtheirmoneytobuyforme,drawings,poems,shells,feathers.
EventheclothesIworeandthebootsonmyfeetweregiftsthatfriendshadgivenme.Everyobjectwassignificant;inmyhuntedexile,thewindowsillhadbecomemyhome,andthetalismansweremynation.
“Byallmeans,guys,ifyoudon’tfeelsafe,takeawalkorwaitoutsideforawhile.I’llcomeandgetyou,afterIhaveasmoke.
It’sjustthatIpromisedsomefriendsofminethatifIevergottoIndia,thefirstthingI’ddoissmokesomehash,andthinkofthem.Imeantokeepthatpromise.Besides,themanagerseemedprettycoolaboutittome.Isthereanyproblemwithsmokingajointhere,Prabaker?”
“Smoking,drinking,dancing,music,sexybusiness,noproblemhere,”Prabakerassuredus,grinninghappilyandlookingupmomentarilyfromhistask.“Everythingisallownoproblemhere.
Exceptthefighting.FightingisnotgoodmannersatIndiaGuestHouse.”
“Yousee?Noproblem.”
“Anddying,”Prabakeradded,withathoughtfulwagofhisroundhead.“Mr.Anandisnotlikingit,ifthepeoplearedyinghere.”
“Saywhat?Whatishetalkingaboutdying?”
“Ishefuckin’serious?Whothefuckisdyin’here?_Jesus!”
“Noproblemdying,baba,”Prabakersoothed,offeringthedistraughtCanadianshisneatlyrolledjoint.Thetallermantookit,andpuffeditalight.“NotmanypeoplearedyinghereinIndiaGuestHouse,andmostlyonlyjunkies,youknow,withtheskinnyfaces.Foryounoproblem,withyoursobeautifulbigfatbodies.”
Hissmilewasdisarminglycharmingashebroughtthejointtome.
WhenIreturnedittohim,hepuffedatitwithobviouspleasure,andpassedittotheCanadiansoncemore.
“Isgoodcharras,yes?”
“It’srealgood,”thetallermansaid.Hissmilewaswarmandgenerous-thebig,open-heartedsmilethatthelongyearssincethenhavetaughtmetoassociatewithCanadaandCanadians.
“I’lltakeit,”Isaid.Prabakerpassedittome,andIbroketheten-gramlumpintotwopieces,throwingonehalftooneofmyroommates.“Here.SomethingforthetrainridetoPoonatomorrow.”
“Thanks,man,”heanswered,showingthepiecetohisfriend.
“Say,you’reallright.Crazy,butallright.”
Ipulledabottleofwhiskyfrommypackandcrackedtheseal.Itwasanotherritual,anotherpromisetoafriendinNewZealand,agirlwho’daskedmetohaveadrinkandthinkofherifImanagedtosmugglemyselfsafelyintoIndiawithmyfalsepassport.Thelittlerituals-thesmokeandthedrinkofwhisky-wereimportanttome.IwassurethatI’dlostthosefriends,justasI’dlostmyfamily,andeveryfriendI’deverknown,whenI’descapedfromprison.Iwassure,somehow,thatIwouldneverseethemagain.Iwasaloneintheworld,withnohopeofreturn,andmywholelifewasheldinmemories,talismans,andpledgesoflove
Iwasabouttotakeasipfromthebottle,butanimpulsemademeofferittoPrabakerfirst.
“Thankyoutoomuch,Mr.Lindsay,”hegushed,hiseyeswidewithdelight.Hetippedhisheadbackwardandpouredameasureofwhiskyintohismouth,withouttouchingthebottletohislips.
“Isverybest,firstnumber,JohnnieWalker.Oh,yes.”
“Havesomemore,ifyoulike.”
“Justateenypieces,thankyouso.”Hedrankagain,gluggingtheliquordowninthroat-bulginggulps.Hepaused,lickinghislips,thentippedthebottlebackathirdtime.“Sorry,aaah,verysorry.Issogoodthiswhisky,itismakingabadmannersonme.”
“Listen,ifyoulikeitthatmuch,youcankeepthebottle.I’vegotanotherone.Iboughtthemdutyfreeontheplane.”
“Oh,thankyou…”heanswered,buthissmilecrumpledintoastrickenexpression.
“What’sthematter?Don’tyouwantit?”
“Yes,yes,Mr.Lindsay,veryyes.ButifIknewthiswasmywhiskyandnotyours,Iwouldnothavebeensogenerouswithmygoodselfinthedrinkingitup.”
TheyoungCanadianslaughed.
“Itellyouwhat,Prabaker.I’llgiveyouthefullbottle,tokeep,andwe’llallsharetheopenone.How’sthat?Andhere’sthetwohundredrupeesforthesmoke.”
Thesmileshoneanew,andheswappedtheopenbottleforthefullone,cradlingitinhisfoldedarmstenderly.
“ButMr.Lindsay,youaremakingamistake.Isaythatthisverybestcharrasisonehundredrupees,nottwo.”
“U-huh.”
“Oh,yes.Onehundredrupeesonly,”hedeclared,passingoneofthenotesbacktomedismissively.
“Okay.Listen,I’mhungry,Prabaker.Ididn’teatontheplane.
Doyouthinkyoucouldshowmetoagood,cleanrestaurant?”
“Verycertainly,Mr.Lindsaysir!Iknowsuchexcellentrestaurants,withsuchawonderoffoods,youwillbemakingyourselfsicktoyourstomachwithhappiness.”
“Youtalkedmeintoit,”Isaid,standingandgatheringupmypassportandmoney.“Youguyscoming?”
“What,outthere?Yougottabekidding.”
“Yeah,maybelater.Like,muchlater.Butwe’llwatchyourstuffhere,andwaitforyoutocomeback.”
“Okay,suityourselves.I’llbebackinacoupleofhours.”
Prabakerbowedandfawned,andpolitelytookhisleave.Ijoinedhim,butjustasIwasabouttoclosethedoor,thetallyoungmanspoke.
“Listen…takeiteasyonthestreet,huh?Imean,youdon’tknowwhatit’slikehere.Youcan’ttrustno-one.Thisain’tthevillage.TheIndiansinthecityare…well,justbecareful,isall.Okay?”Atthereceptiondesk,Anandputmypassport,travelcheques,andthebulkofmycashinhissafe,givingmeadetailedreceipt,andIsteppeddowntothestreetwiththewordsoftheyoungCanadian’swarningwheelingandturninginmymindlikegullsaboveaspawningtide.
Prabakerhadtakenustothehotelalongawide,tree-lined,andrelativelyemptyavenuethatfollowedacurveofthebayfromthetall,stonearchoftheGatewayofIndiaMonument.Thestreetatthefrontofthebuildingwascrammedwithpeopleandvehicles,however,andthesoundofvoices,carhorns,andcommercewaslikeastormofrainonwoodandmetalroofs.
Hundredsofpeoplewalkedthere,orstoodintalkinggroups.
Shops,restaurants,andhotelsfilledthestreetsidebysidealongitsentirelength.Everyshoporrestaurantfeaturedasmallersub-shopattachedtothefrontofit.Twoorthreeattendants,seatedonfoldingstools,mannedeachofthosesmallencroachmentsonthefootpath.TherewereAfricans,Arabs,Europeans,andIndians.Languagesandmusicchangedwitheverystep,andeveryrestaurantspilledadifferentscentintotheboilingair.
Menwithbullockwagonsandhandcartswoundtheirwaythroughheavytraffictodeliverwatermelonsandsacksofrice,softdrinksandracksofclothes,cigarettesandblocksofice.Moneywaseverywhere:itwasacentrefortheblack-markettradeincurrencies,Prabakertoldme,andthickblocksofbanknoteswerebeingcountedandchanginghandsopenly.Therewerebeggarsandjugglersandacrobats,snakecharmersandmusiciansandastrologers,palmistsandpimpsandpushers.Andthestreetwasfilthy.Trashtumbledfromthewindowsabovewithoutwarning,andgarbagewasheapedinpilesonthepavementortheroadway,wherefat,fearlessratsslitheredtofeast.
Mostprominentonthestreet,tomyeyes,werethemanycrippledanddiseasedbeggars.Everykindofillness,disability,andhardshipparadedthere,stoodatthedoorwaysofrestaurantsandshops,orapproachedpeopleonthestreetwithprofessionallyplaintivecries.Likethefirstsightoftheslumsfromthewindowsofthebus,thatglimpseofthesufferingstreetbroughtahotshametomyhealthyface.ButasPrabakerledmeonthroughtheroisteringcrowd,hedrewmyattentiontootherimagesofthosebeggarsthatsoftenedtheawfulcaricaturepresentedbytheperformanceoftheirpiteousness.Onegroupofbeggarssatinadoorway,playingcards,someblindmenandtheirfriendsenjoyedamealoffishandrice,andlaughingchildrentookturnstoridewithaleglessmanonhislittletrolley.
Prabakerwasstealingsidewaysglancesatmyfaceaswewalked.
“HowareyoulikingourBombay?”
“Iloveit,”Ianswered,anditwastrue.Tomyeyes,thecitywasbeautiful.Itwaswildandexciting.BuildingsthatwereBritishRaj-romanticstoodsidetosidewithmodern,mirroredbusinesstowers.Thehaphazardslouchofneglectedtenementscrumbledintolavishdisplaysofmarketvegetablesandsilks.Iheardmusicfromeveryshopandpassingtaxi.Thecolourswerevibrant.Thefragrancesweredizzyinglydelicious.AndthereweremoresmilesintheeyesonthosecrowdedstreetsthaninanyotherplaceI’deverknown.
Aboveallelse,Bombaywasfree-exhilaratinglyfree.Isawthatliberated,unconstrainedspiritwhereverIlooked,andIfoundmyselfrespondingtoitwiththewholeofmyheart.EventheflareofshameI’dfeltwhenIfirstsawtheslumsandthestreetbeggarsdissolvedintheunderstandingthattheywerefree,thosemenandwomen.No-onedrovethebeggarsfromthestreets.No-onebanishedtheslum-dwellers.Painfulastheirliveswere,theywerefreetolivetheminthesamegardensandavenuesastherichandpowerful.Theywerefree.Thecitywasfree.Ilovedit.
YetIwasalittleunnervedbythedensityofpurposes,thecarnivalofneedsandgreeds,thesheerintensityofthepleadingandtheschemingonthestreet.IspokenoneofthelanguagesIheard.Iknewnothingoftheculturesthere,clothedinrobesandsarisandturbans.ItwasasifI’dfoundmyselfinaperformanceofsomeextravagant,complexdrama,andIdidn’thaveascript.
ButIsmiled,andsmilingwaseasy,nomatterhowstrangeanddisorientingthestreetseemedtobe.Iwasafugitive.Iwasawantedman,ahuntedman,withapriceonmyhead.AndIwasstillonestepaheadofthem.Iwasfree.Everyday,whenyou’reontherun,isthewholeofyourlife.Everyfreeminuteisashortstorywithahappyending.
AndIwasgladofPrabaker’scompany.Inoticedthathewaswellknownonthestreet,thathewasgreetedfrequentlyandwithconsiderablewarmthbyawiderangeofpeople.
“Youmustbehungry,Mr.Lindsay,”Prabakerobserved.“Youareahappyfellow,don’tmindI’msayingit,andhappyalwayshasitthegoodappetites.”“Well,I’mhungryenough,allright.Whereisthisplacewe’regoingto,anyway?IfI’dknownitwouldtakethislongtogettotherestaurant,Iwould’vebroughtacutlunchwithme.”
“Justalittlebitnotmuchtooveryfar,”herepliedcheerfully.
“Okay…”
“Oh,yes!Iwilltakeyoutothebestrestaurant,andwiththefinestMaharashtrafoods.Youwillenjoy,noproblem.AlltheBombayguideslikemeeattheirfoodsthere.Thisplaceissogood,theyonlyhavetopaythepolicehalfofusualbaksheeshmoney.Sogoodtheyare.”
“Okay…”
“Oh,yes!Butfirst,letmegetitIndiancigaretteforyou,andformealso.Here,westopnow.”
Heledmetoastreetstallthatwasnomorethanafoldingcardtable,withadozenbrandsofcigarettesarrangedinacardboardbox.Onthetabletherewasalargebrasstray,carryingseveralsmallsilverdishes.Thedishescontainedshreddedcoconut,spices,andanassortmentofunidentifiablepastes.Abucketbesidethecardtablewasfilledwithspear-shapedleaves,floatinginwater.Thecigarettesellerwasdryingtheleaves,smearingthemwithvariouspastes,fillingthemwithgrounddates,coconut,betel,andspices,androllingthemintosmallpackages.Themanycustomerscrowdedaroundhisstallpurchasedtheleavesasfastashisdexteroushandscouldfillthem.
Prabakerpressedclosetotheman,waitingforachancetomakehisorder.Craningmynecktowatchhimthroughthethicketofcustomers,Imovedclosertowardtheedgeofthefootpath.AsItookastepdownontotheroad,Iheardanurgentshout.
“_Look_out!”
Twohandsgraspedmyarmattheelbowandjerkedmeback,justasahuge,fast-moving,double-deckerbussweptpast.Thebuswould’vekilledmeifthosehandshadn’thaltedmeinmystride,andIswungroundtofacemysaviour.ShewasthemostbeautifulwomanI’deverseen.Shewasslender,withblack,shoulder-lengthhair,andpaleskin.Althoughshewasn’ttall,hersquareshouldersandstraight-backedposture,withbothfeetplantedfirmlyapart,gaveheraquietlydeterminedphysicalpresence.
Shewaswearingsilkpants,boundtightlyattheankles,blacklow-heeledshoes,aloosecottonshirt,andalarge,longsilkshawl.Sheworetheshawlbackwards,withthedouble-maneoftheliquidfabrictwirlingandflutteringatherback.Allherclotheswereindifferentshadesofgreen.
Thecluetoeverythingamanshouldloveandfearinherwasthere,rightfromthestart,intheironicsmilethatprimedandswelledthearcheryofherfulllips.Therewasprideinthatsmile,andconfidenceinthesetofherfinenose.Withoutunderstandingwhy,Iknewbeyondquestionthatalotofpeoplewouldmistakeherprideforarrogance,andconfuseherconfidencewithimpassivity.Ididn’tmakethatmistake.Myeyeswerelost,swimming,floatingfreeintheshimmeringlagoonofhersteady,evenstare.Hereyeswerelargeandspectacularlygreen.Itwasthegreenthattreesare,invividdreams.Itwasthegreenthattheseawouldbe,iftheseawereperfect.
Herhandwasstillrestinginthecurveofmyarm,neartheelbow.Thetouchwasexactlywhatthetouchofalover’shandshouldbe:familiar,yetexcitingasawhisperedpromise.Ifeltanalmostirresistibleurgetotakeherhandandplaceitflatagainstmychest,nearmyheart.MaybeIshould’vedoneit.Iknownowthatshewould’velaughed,ifI’ddoneit,andshewould’velikedmeforit.Butstrangersthatwewerethen,westoodforfivelongsecondsandheldthestare,whilealltheparallelworlds,alltheparallellivesthatmight’vebeen,andneverwouldbe,whirledaroundus.Thenshespoke.
“Thatwasclose.You’relucky.”
“Yes,”Ismiled.“Iam.”
Herhandslowlyleftmyarm.Itwasaneasy,relaxedgesture,butIfeltthedetachmentfromherassharplyasifI’dbeenroughlywokenfromadeepandhappydream.Ileanedtowardher,lookingbehindhertotheleftandthentotheright.
“Whatisit?”sheasked.
“I’mlookingforyourwings.Youaremyguardianangel,aren’tyou?”
“I’mafraidnot,”shereplied,hercheeksdimplingwithawrysmile.“There’stoomuchofthedevilinmeforthat.”
“Justhowmuchdevil,”Igrinned,“arewetalkingabouthere?”
Somepeoplewerestandinginagroup,onthefarsideofthestall.Oneofthem-ahandsome,athleticmaninhismid-twenties–steppedtotheroadandcalledtoher.“Karla!Comeon,_yaar!”
Sheturnedandwavedtohim,thenheldoutherhandtoshakeminewithagripthatwasfirm,butemotionallyindeterminable.Hersmilewasjustasambiguous.ShemightVelikedme,orshemight’vejustbeenhappytosaygoodbye.
“Youstillhaven’tansweredmyquestion,”Isaid,asherhandslippedfrommine.
“HowmuchdevilhaveIgotinme?”sheansweredme,thehalf-smileteasingherlips.“That’saverypersonalquestion.Cometothinkofit,thatmightjustbethemostpersonalquestionanyoneeveraskedme.But,hey,ifyoucometoLeopold’s,sometime,youcouldfindout.”
Herfriendshadmovedtooursideofthelittlestand,andsheleftmetojointhem.TheywereallIndians,allyoung,anddressedintheclean,fashionablywesternclothesofthemiddleclass.Theylaughedoftenandleanedagainstoneanotherfamiliarly,butno-onetouchedKarla.Sheseemedtoprojectanaurathatwasattractiveandinviolableatthesametime.Imovedcloser,pretendingtobeintriguedbythecigaretteseller’sworkwithhisleavesandpastes.Ilistenedasshespoketothem,butIcouldn’tunderstandthelanguage.Hervoice,inthatlanguageandinthatconversation,wassurprisinglydeepandsonorous;thehairsonmyarmstingledinresponsetothesoundofit.AndIsupposethat,too,should’vebeenawarning.Thevoice,Afghanmatchmakerssay,ismorethanhalfoflove.ButIdidn’tknowthatthen,andmyheartrushedin,whereevenmatchmakersmight’vefearedtotread.
“See,Mr.Lindsay,Iboughtitjusttwocigarettesforus,”
Prabakersaid,rejoiningmeandofferingoneofthecigaretteswithaflourish.“ThisisIndia,countryofthepoorfellows.Noneedforbuyingwholepacketofcigaretteshere.Justonecigarette,youcanbuyonly.Andnoneedforbuyingitanymatches.”
Heleanedforwardandtookupalengthofsmoulderinghempropethatwashangingfromahookonthetelegraphpole,nexttothecigarettestall.Prabakerblewtheashfromtheendofit,exposingalittleorangeemberoffire,whichheusedtopuffhiscigarettealight.
“Whatishemaking?Whataretheychewinginthoseleaves?”
“Iscalledpaan.Amostveryexcellenttasteandchewingitis.
EveryoneinBombayischewingandspitting,chewingandmorespitting,noproblem,dayandnightalso.Verygoodforhealthitis,plentyofchewingandfullspitting.Youwanttotryit?Iwillgetitforyousome.”
Inoddedandlethimmaketheorder,notsomuchforthenewexperienceofthepaanasfortheexcuseitofferedtostandtherelonger,andlookatKarla.Shewassorelaxedandathome,somuchapartofthestreetanditsinscrutablelore.WhatIfoundbewildering,allaroundme,seemedtobemundaneforher.Iwasremindedoftheforeignerintheslum-themanI’dseenfromthewindowofthebus.Likehim,sheseemedcalmandcontentinBombay.Sheseemedtobelong.Ienviedherthewarmthandacceptanceshedrewfromthosearoundher.
Butmorethanthat,myeyesweredrawntoherperfectloveliness.
Ilookedather,astranger,andeveryotherbreathstrainedtoforceitswayfrommychest.Aclamplikeatighteningfistseizedmyheart.Avoiceinmybloodsaidyes,yes,yes…TheancientSanskritlegendsspeakofadestinedlove,akarmicconnectionbetweensoulsthatarefatedtomeetandcollideandenraptureoneanother.Thelegendssaythatthelovedoneisinstantlyrecognisedbecauseshe’slovedineverygesture,everyexpressionofthought,everymovement,everysound,andeverymoodthatpraysinhereyes.Thelegendssaythatweknowherbyherwings-thewingsthatonlywecansee-andbecausewantingherkillseveryotherdesireoflove.
Thesamelegendsalsocarrywarningsthatsuchfatedlovemay,sometimes,bethepossessionandtheobsessionofone,andonlyone,ofthetwosoulstwinnedbydestiny.Butwisdom,inonesense,istheoppositeoflove.Lovesurvivesinuspreciselybecauseitisn’twise.
“Ah,youlookthatgirl,”Prabakerobserved,returningwiththepaanandfollowingthedirectionofmygaze.“Youthinksheisbeautiful,na?HernameisKarla.”
“Youknowher?”
“Oh,yes!Karlaiseverybodyknows,”hereplied,inastagewhispersoloudthatIfearedshemighthear.“Youwanttomeether?”
“Meether?”
“Ifyouwantit,Iwillspeaktoher.Youwanthertobeyourfriend?”
“What?”
“Oh,yes!Karlaismyfriend,andshewillbeyourfriendalso,Ithinkso.Maybeyouwillmakealotofmoneyforyourverygoodself,inbusinesswithKarla.Maybeyouwillbecomesuchgoodandcloselyfriendsthatyouwillhaveitalotofsexestogether,andmakeafullenjoymentofyourbodies.Iamsureyouwillhaveafriendlypleasure.”
Hewasactuallyrubbinghishandstogether.Theredjuicesofthepaanstainedtheteethandlipsofhissmile.Ihadtograspathisarmtostophimfromapproachingher,there,inthegroupofherfriends.
“No!Stop!ForChrist’ssake,keepyourvoicedown,Prabaker.IfIwanttospeaktoher,I’lldoitmyself.”
“Oh,Iamunderstand,”hesaid,lookingabashed.“Itiswhatforeignersarecallingforeplay,isn’tit?”
“No!Foreplayis…nevermindwhatforeplayis!”
“Oh,good!Inevermindabouttheforeplays,Mr.Lindsay.IamanIndianfellow,andweIndianfellows,wedon’tworryabouttheforeplayings.Wegostraighttothebumpingandjumping.Ohyes!”
Hewasholdinganimaginarywomaninhishandsandthrustinghisnarrowhipsather,smilingthatred-juicedsmileallthewhile.
“Willyoustopthat!”Isnapped,lookinguptoseeifKarlaandherfriendswerewatchinghim.
“Okay,Mr.Lindsay,”hesighed,slowinghisrhythmicthrustsuntiltheystoppedaltogether.“But,IcanstillmakeagoodofferofyourfriendshiptotheMissKarla,ifyoulike?”
“No!Imean-no,thankyou.Idon’twanttopropositionher.I…OhGod,what’stheuse.Justtellme…themanwho’stalkingnow-whatlanguageishespeaking?”
“HeisspeakingHindilanguage,Mr.Lindsay.Youwaitoneminute,Iwilltellyouwhatisitheissaying.”
Hemovedtothefarsideofthestallandjoinedhergroupquiteunselfconsciously,leaningintolisten.No-onepaidanyattentiontohim.Henodded,laughedwiththeothers,andreturnedafterafewminutes.
“Heistellingitoneveryfunnystory,aboutaninspectorofBombayPolice,averygreatpowerfulfellowinthisarea.Thatinspectordidlockupaverycleverfellowinhisjail,butthecleverfellow,hedidconvincetheinspectortolethimoutagain,becausehetoldtheinspectorhehadsomegoldandjewels.
Notonlythat,butwhenhewasfree,thecleverfellowsoldtheinspectorsomeofthegoldandsomejewels.Buttheywerenotreallygoldandnotreallyjewels.Theyweretheimitations,andverycheaplynotthereallythings.Andtheworstmischief,thecleverfellowlivedintheinspector’shouseforoneweekbeforehesoldthenot-reallyjewels.Andthereisabigrumourthatthecleverfellowhadsexybusinesswiththatinspector’swife.Nowtheinspectoriscrazy,andsomuchangry,thateverybodyisrunningwhentheyseehim.”
“Howdoyouknowher?Doesshelivehere?”“Knowwho,Mr.Lindsay-thatinspector’swife?”
“No,ofcoursenot!Imeanthegirl-Karla.”
“Youknow,”hemused,frowninghardforthefirsttime,“therearealotsofgirlsinthisBombay.Weareonlyfiveminutesfromyourhotel.Inthisfiveminutes,wehaveseenithundredsofgirls.Infiveminutesmore,thereismorehundredsofgirls.
Everyfiveminutes,morehundredsofgirls.Andafteralittleofwalking,wewillseehundreds,andhundreds,andhundreds,andhundreds-”
“Oh,hundredsofgirls,great!”Iinterruptedsarcastically,myvoicemuchlouderthanI’dintendedittobe.Iglancedaround.
Severalpeoplewerestaringatmewithundisguisedcontempt.Icontinued,inahushedtone.“Idon’twanttoknowabouthundredsofgirls,Prabaker.I’mjust…curious…about…aboutthatgirl,okay?”
“Okay,Mr.Lindsay,Iwillbetellingyoueverything.Karla-sheisafamousbusinessmaninBombay.Verylongsheishere.Ithinkfiveyearsmaybe.Shehasonesmallhouse,notfar.EverybodyknowstheKarla.”
“Whereisshefrom?”
“Ithink,German,orsomethinglikethat.”
“ButshesoundedAmerican.”
“Yes,issounding,butsheisfromGerman,orliketotheGerman.
Andnow,anyway,isalmostveryIndian.Youwanttoeatyourfoodsnow?”
“Yeah,justaminute.”
Thegroupofyoungfriendscalledouttheirgoodbyestoothersnearthepaanstand,andwalkedoffintothemillandswirlofthecrowd.Karlajoinedthem,walkingawaywithherheadheldhighinthatcuriouslystraight-backed,almostdefiantposture.Iwatchedheruntilshewasswallowedbythepeople-tideofthecrowds,butsheneverlookedback.
“DoyouknowaplacecalledLeopold’s?”IaskedPrabakerashejoinedme,andwestartedtowalkoncemore.
“Oh,yes!Wonderfulandlovelyplaceitis,Leopold’sBeerBar.
Fullofthemostwonderful,lovelypeoples,thevery,veryfineandlovelypeople.Allkindofforeignersyoucanfindthere,allmakinggoodbusiness.Sexybusiness,anddrugsbusiness,andmoneybusiness,andblack-marketbusiness,andnaughtypictures,andsmugglerbusiness,andpassportbusiness,and-”
“Okay,Prabaker,Igetit.”
“Youwanttogothere?”“No.Maybelater.”Istoppedwalking,andPrabakerstoppedbesideme.“Listen,whatdoyourfriendscallyou?Imean,what’syournameforshort,insteadofPrabaker?”
“Oh,yes,shortnameIamhavingalso.MyshortnameisPrabu.”
“Prabu…Ilikeit.”
“It’smeaningtheSonofLight,orliketothat.Isgoodname,yes?”
“Isgoodname,yes.”
“Andyourgoodname,Mr.Lindsay,itisreallynotsogood,ifyoudon’tmindI’mtellingyourface.Idon’tlikeitthislongandkindofasqueakyname,forIndianpeoplespeaking.”
“Oh,youdon’t?”
“Sorrytosayit,no.Idon’t.Notatall.Notabit.Notevenateensyoraweensy-”
“Well,”Ismiled,“I’mafraidthere’snotalotIcandoaboutit.”
“I’mthinkingthatashortname-Lin-ismuchbetter,”hesuggested.“Ifyou’renothavingobjections,IwillcallyouLin.”
Itwasasgoodanameasany,andnomoreorlessfalsethanthedozenothersI’dassumedsincetheescape.Infact,inrecentmonthsI’dfoundmyselfreactingwithaquirkyfatalismtothenewnamesIwasforcedtoadopt,inoneplaceoranother,andtothenewnamesthatothersgaveme.Lin.ItwasadiminutiveInevercould’veinventedformyself.Butitsoundedright,whichistosaythatIheardthevoodooechoofsomethingordained,fated:anamethatinstantlybelongedtome,assurelyasthelost,secretnamewithwhichIwasborn,andunderwhichI’dbeensentencedtotwentyyearsinprison.
IpeereddownintoPrabaker’sroundfaceandhislarge,dark,mischievouseyes,andInodded,smiled,andacceptedthename.Icouldn’tknow,then,thatthelittleBombaystreetguidehadgivenmeanamethousandsofpeople,fromColabatoKandahar,fromKinshasatoBerlin,wouldcometoknowmeby.Fateneedsaccomplices,andthestonesindestiny’swallsaremortaredwithsmallandheedlesscomplicitiessuchasthose.Ilookback,now,andIknowthatthenamingmoment,whichseemedsoinsignificantthen,whichseemedtodemandnomorethananarbitraryandsuperstitiousyesorno,wasinfactapivotalmomentinmylife.
TheroleIplayedunderthatname,andthecharacterIbecame-
Linbaba-wasmorereal,andtruetomynature,thananyoneoranythingthatIeverwasbeforeit.“Yes,okay,Linwilldo.”
“Verygood!Iamtoohappythatyoulikeit,thisname.AndlikemynameismeaningSonofLightinHindilanguage,yourname,Lin,hasitalsoaveryfineandsoluckymeaning.”
“Yeah?WhatdoesLinmeaninHindi?”
“It’smeaning_Penis!”heexplained,withadelightthatheexpectedmetoshare
“Oh,great.That’sjust…great.”
“Yesverygreat,verylucky.Itisnotexactlymeaningthis,butitissoundinglikeling,orlingam,andthatismeaningpenis.”
“Comeoffit,man,”Iprotested,beginningtowalkoncemore.
“HowcanIgoaroundcallingmyselfMr.Penis?Areyoukiddingme?Icanseeitnow-Oh,hello,pleasedtomeetyou,mynameisPenis.Noway.Forgetit.Ithinkwe’llsticktoLindsay.”
“No!No!Lin,reallyI’mtellingyou,thisisafinename,averypowername,averylucky,atooluckyname!Thepeoplewilllovethisname,whentheyhearit.Come,Iwillshowyou.Iwanttoleaveitthisbottleofwhiskyyougavetome,leaveitwithmyfriend,Mr.Sanjay.Here,justhereinthisshop.Justyouseehowhelikesityourname.”
Afewmorepacesalongthebusystreetbroughtustoasmallshopwithahand-paintedsignovertheopendoor:
RADIOSICK
ElectricRepairEnterprisesElectricalSalesandRepairs,SanjayDeshpandeProprietorSanjayDeshpandewasaheavy-setmaninhisfiftieswithahaloofgrey-whitehair,andwhite,bushyeyebrows.Hesatbehindasolidwoodencounter,surroundedbybomb-blastradios,evisceratedcassetteplayers,andboxesofparts.Prabakergreetedhim,chatteringinrapidHindi,andpassedthebottleofwhiskyoverthecounter.Mr.Deshpandeslappedameatyhandonit,withoutlookingatit,andsliditoutofsightonhissideofthecounter.Hetookasheafofrupeenotesfromhisshirtpocket,peeledoffanumber,andpassedthemacrosswithhispalmturneddownward.Prabakertookthemoneyandslippeditintohispocketwithamovementasswiftandfluidasthetentacle-grabofasquid.Hefinishedtalking,atlast,andbeckonedmeforward.
“Thisismyverygoodfriend,”heinformedMr.Deshpande,pattingmeonthearm.“HeisfromNewZealand.”
Mr.Deshpandegrunted.
“HeisjusttodaycominginBombay.IndiaGuestHouse,heisstaying.”
Mr.Deshpandegruntedagain.Hestudiedmewithavaguelyhostilecuriosity.
“HisnameisLin.Mr.Linbaba,”Prabakersaid.
“What’shisname?”Mr.Deshpandeasked.
“Lin,”Prabakergrinned.“HisnameisLinbaba.”
Mr.Deshpanderaisedhisimpressiveeyebrowsinasurprisedsmile.
“Linbaba?”
“Oh,yes!”Prabakerenthused.“Lin.Lin.Veryfinefellow,heisalso.”
Mr.Deshpandeextendedhishand,andIshookit.Wegreetedoneanother,andthenPrabakerbegantotugatmysleeve,pullingmetowardsthedoorway.
“Linbaba!”Mr.Deshpandecalledout,aswewereabouttostepintothestreet.“WelcomeinBombay.YouhaveanyWalkmanorcameraoranyghetto-blastingmachineforselling,youcometome,SanjayDeshpande,atRadioSick.Iamgivingbestprices.”
Inodded,andwelefttheshop.Prabakerdraggedmeafewpacesfurtheralongthestreet,andthenstopped.
“Yousee,Mr.Lin?Youseehowhelikesityourname?”
“Iguessso,”Imuttered,bewilderedasmuchbyhisenthusiasmasbythebriefexchangewithMr.Deshpande.WhenIgottoknowhimwellenough,whenIbegantocherishhisfriendship,IdiscoveredthatPrabakerbelievedwiththewholeofhisheartthathissmilemadeadifference,inpeople’sheartsandintheworld.Hewasright,ofcourse,butittookmealongtimetounderstandthattruth,andtoacceptit.
“What’sthebabapart,attheendofthename?Lin,Icanunderstand.Butwhat’stheLinbababitallabout?”
“Babaisjustarespectingname,”Prabakergrinned.“Ifweputbabauponthebackofyourname,oronthenameofanybodyspecial,itislikemeaningtherespectwegiveittoateacher,oraholypersons,oraveryold,old,old-”
“Igetit,Igetit,butitdoesn’tmakemeanymorecomfortablewithit,Prabu,Igottatellya.Thiswholepenisthing…Idon’tknow.”
“Butyoudidsee,Mr.SanjayDeshpande!Youdidseehowhelikedityourname!Look,seehowthepeoplelovethisname.Youseenow,youlook,Iwilltellittoeverybody!Linbaba!Linbaba!
Linbaba!”
Hewasspeakinginashout,addressingstrangersastheypassedusonthestreet
“Allright,Prabu,allright.Itakeyourwordforit.Calmdown.”Itwasmyturntotugathissleeve,andmovehimalongthestreet.“Ithoughtyouwantedto_drinkthewhisky?”
“Ah,yes,”hesighed,“waswantingit,andwasalreadydrinkingitinmymindalso.Butnow,Linbaba,withthismoneyfromsellingyourgoodpresenttoMr.Sanjay,IcanbuytwobottlesofverybadandnicelycheapIndianwhisky,toenjoy,andplentyofmoneyleftforonenicenewshirt,redcolour,onetolaofgoodcharras,ticketsforenjoyingairconditionHindipicture,andtwodaysoffoods.Butwait,Linbaba,youarenoteatingityourpaan.Youmustputitnowinthesideofyourmouthandchewit,beforeitisgettingstaleandnotgoodfortaste.”
“Okay,howdoIdoit?Likethis?”
Iputtheleaf-wrappedparcel,almostthesizeofamatchbox,intothesideofmymouthbetweenthecheekandtheteeth,asI’dseentheothersdo.Withinseconds,asuffusionofaromaticsweetnessespossessedmymouth.Thetastewassharpandluscious–honeyedandsubtlypiquantatthesametime.Theleafwrappingbegantodissolve,andthesolid,crunchynibblesofshavedbetelnut,date,andcoconutswirledinthesweetjuices.
“Youmustspititoutsomepaannow,”Prabakersaid,staringatmygrindingjawswithearnestconcentration.“Youmakelikethis,see?Spithimoutlikethis.”
Hespatoutasquirtofredjuicethatlandedontheroad,ametreaway,andformedapalm-sizedblotch.Itwasaprecise,expertprocedure.Notaspeckofthejuiceremainedonhislips.
Withhisenthusiasticencouragement,Itriedtoimitatehim,butthemouthfulofcrimsonliquidbubbledoutofmymouth,leftatrailofslobberonmychinandthefrontofmyshirt,andlandedwithanaudiblesplatonmyrightboot.
“Noproblemthisshirt,”Prabakerfrowned,pullingahandkerchieffromhispocket,andsmearingtheblood-redfluiddeeperintomyshirtfrontwithvigorouslyineffectiverubbing.“Noproblemyourbootsalso.Iwillwipehimjustlikethis,see?Imustaskitnow,doyouliketheswimming?”“Swimming?”Iasked,swallowingthelittlepaanmixturethatwasstillinmymouth.
“Oh,yes.Swimming.IwilltakeyoutoChowpattybeach,sonicebeachitis,andthereyoucanpractisechewingandspittingandchewingandmorespittingthepaan,butwithoutsomanyofallyourclothesonly,foragoodsavingonyourlaundry.”
“Listen,aboutthat-goingaroundthecity-youworkasaguide,right?”
“Oh,yes.VerybestBombayguide,andguidingallIndiaalso.”
“Howmuchdoyouchargeperday?”
Heglancedatme,hischeeksappledintheimpishgrinIwaslearningtorecogniseasthecleverunder-sideofhisbroadandgentlesmile.
“Ichargehundredrupeesallday,”hesaid.
“Okay…”
“Andtouristsbuyitthelunch.”
“Sure.”
“Andtaxialso,touristspay.”
“Ofcourse.”
“AndBombaybustickets,alltheypay.”
“Yeah.”
“Andchai,ifwedrinkitonahotafternoon,forrefreshingourgoodselves.”
“U-huh-”
“Andsexygirls,ifwegothere,onacoolnight,ifwearefeelingabigneedyswellinginour-”
“Yeah,okay,okay.Listen,I’llpayyouforthewholeweek.IwantyoutoshowmeBombay,teachmeabitaboutthecity.Ifitworksoutokay,there’llbeabonusforyouattheendoftheweek.Howdoesthatsound?”
Thesmilesparkedhiseyes,buthisvoicewassurprisinglysombreashereplied.
“Thisisyourgooddecision,Linbaba.Yourverygooddecision.”
“Well,”Ilaughed,“we’llsee.AndIwantyoutoteachmesomeHindiwords,okay?”
“Oh,yes!Icanteacheverything!Hameansyes,andnahinmeansno,andpanimeanswater,andkhannameansfoods,and-”
“Okay,okay,wedon’thavetolearnitallatonce.Isthistherestaurant?Good,I’mstarved.”Iwasabouttoenterthedarkandunprepossessingrestaurantwhenhestoppedme,hisexpressionsuddenlygrave.Hefrowned,andswallowedhard,asifhewasunsurehowtobegin.
“Beforeweareeatingthisgoodfoods,”hesaid,atlast,“beforewe…beforewemakeanybusinessalso,somethingthereis,Imusttellittoyou.”
“O-kay…”
HismannerwassodejectedthatIfeltatwingeofapprehension.
“Well,nowIamtelling…thattolacharras,theoneIwassellingtoyouinhotel…”
“Yes?”
“Well…thatwasthebusinessprice.Thereallyprice-thefriendshipprice-isonlyfiftyrupeesforonetolaAfghanicharras.”Heliftedhisarms,andthenletthemslapdownathisthighs.“Ichargeditfiftyrupeestoomuch.”
“Isee,”Iansweredquietly.Thematterwassotrivial,frommypointofview,thatIwastemptedtolaughoutloud.Itwasobviouslyimportanttohim,however,andIsuspectedthathewasn’toftenmovedtomakesuchadmissions.Infact,ashetoldmemuchlater,Prabakerhadjustthendecidedtolikeme,andforhimthatmeanthewasboundtoascrupulousandliteralhonestyineverythinghesaidordid.Itwasatoncehismostendearingandmostirritatingquality,thathealwaystoldmethewholeofthetruth.
“So…whatdoyouwanttodoaboutit?”
“Mysuggestion,”hesaidseriously,“wesmokeitthatbusinesspricecharrasveryfast,untilfinishthatone,thenIwillbuynewoneforus.Afterfromnow,itwillbeeverythingfriendshipprices,foryouandformealso.Thisisanoproblempolicy,isn’tit?”
Ilaughed,andhelaughedwithme.Ithrewmyarmaroundhisshoulderandledhimintothesteamy,ambrosialactivityofthebusyrestaurant.
“Lin,IthinkIamyourverygoodfriend,”Prabakerdecided,grinninghappily.“Wearetheluckyfellows,isn’tit?”
“Maybeitis,”Ireplied.“Maybeitis.”
Hourslater,Ilaybackinacomfortabledarkness,underthesound-strobeofaceaselesslyrevolvingceilingfan.Iwastired,butIcouldn’tsleep.Beneathmywindowsthestreetthathadwrithedandtoiledindaylightwassilent,subduedbyanight-sultriness,moistwithstars.Astoundingandpuzzlingimagesfromthecitytumbledandturnedinmymindlikeleavesonawaveofwind,andmybloodsothrilledwithhopeandpossibilitythatIcouldn’tsuppressasmile,lyingthereinthedark.No-one,intheworldI’dleftbehindme,knewwhereIwas.No-one,inthenewworldofBombay,knewwhoIwas.Inthatmoment,inthoseshadows,Iwasalmostsafe.
IthoughtofPrabaker,andhispromisetoreturnearlyinthemorningtobeginmytoursofthecity.Willhecome?Iwondered.
OrwillIseehimsomewherelaterintheday,walkingwithanothernewlyarrivedtourist?Idecided,withthefaint,impersonalcallousnessofthelonely,thatifhewereasgoodashisword,andturnedupinthemorning,Iwouldbegintolikehim.
Ithoughtofthewoman,Karla,againandagain,surprisedthathercomposed,unsmilingfaceintrudedsooften.IfyougotoLeopold’s,sometime,maybeyou’llfindout.Thatwasthelastthingshe’dsaidtome.Ididn’tknowifitwasaninvitation,achallenge,orawarning.Whateveritwas,Imeanttotakeheruponit.Imeanttogothere,andlookforher.Butnotyet.NotuntilI’dlearnedalittlemoreaboutthecitysheseemedtoknowsowell.I’llgiveitaweek,Ithought.Aweekinthecity…
Andbeyondthosereflections,asalways,infixedorbitsaroundthecoldsphereofmysolitude,werethoughtsofmyfamilyandmyfriends.Endless.Unreachable.Everynightwastwistedaroundtheunquenchablelongingofwhatmyfreedomhadcostme,andallthatwaslost.Everynightwaspiercedbythespikeofshameforwhatmyfreedomcontinuedtocostthem,thelovedonesIwassureIwouldneverseeagain.
“Wecould’abeathimdown,youknow,”thetallCanadiansaidfromhisdarkcorneronthefarsideoftheroom,hissuddenvoiceinthewhirringsilencesoundinglikestonesthrownonametalroof.
“Wecould’abeatthatmanagerdownonthepriceofthisroom.
It’scostin’ussixbucksfortheday.Wecould’abeathimdowntofour.It’snotalottamoney,butit’sthewaytheydothingshere.Yougottabeattheseguysdown,andbarterforeverything.
We’releavin’tomorrowforDelhi,butyou’restayin’here.Wetalkedaboutitbefore,whenyouwereout,andwe’rekindaworriedaboutyou.Yougottabeat’emdown,man.Ifyoudon’tlearnthat,ifyoudon’tstartthinkin’likethat,they’regonnafuckyouover,thesepeople.TheIndiansinthecitiesarerealmercenary,man.It’sagreatcountry,don’tgetmewrong.That’swhywecomebackhere.Butthey’redifferentthanus.They’re…hell,theyjustexpectit,that’sall.Yougottabeat’emdown.”
Hewasrightaboutthepriceoftheroom,ofcourse.Wecould’vesavedadollarortwoperday.Andhagglingistheeconomicalthingtodo.Mostofthetime,it’stheshrewdandamiablewaytoconductyourbusinessinIndia.
Buthewaswrong,too.Themanager,Anand,andIbecamegoodfriends,intheyearsthatfollowed.ThefactthatItrustedhimonsightanddidn’thaggle,onthatfirstday,thatIdidn’ttrytomakeabuckoutofhim,thatIworkedonaninstinctthatrespectedhimandwaspreparedtolikehim,endearedmetohim.
Hetoldmeso,morethanonce.Heknew,aswedid,thatsixofourdollarswasn’tanextravagantpriceforthreeforeignmentopay.Theownersofthehotelreceivedfourdollarsperdayperroom.Thatwastheirbaseline.ThedollarortwoabovethatminimumwasallAnandandhisstaffofthreeroomboyssharedastheirdailywage.ThelittlevictorieshaggledfromhimbyforeigntouristscostAnandhisdailybread,andcostthemthechancetoknowhimasafriend.
ThesimpleandastonishingtruthaboutIndiaandIndianpeopleisthatwhenyougothere,anddealwiththem,yourheartalwaysguidesyoumorewiselythanyourhead.There’snowhereelseintheworldwherethat’squitesotrue.
Ididn’tknowthatthen,asIclosedmyeyesinthedarkandbreathingsilenceonthatfirstnightinBombay.Iwasrunningoninstinct,andpushingmyluck.Ididn’tknowthatI’dalreadygivenmyhearttothewoman,andthecity.Andknowingnoneofit,Ifell,beforethesmilefadedfrommylips,intoadreamless,gentlesleep.
____________________
CHAPTERTWO
ShewalkedintoLeopold’sattheusualtime,andwhenshestoppedatatablenearmetotalkwithfriends,Itriedoncemoretofindthewordsforthefoliantblazeofhergreeneyes.Ithoughtofleavesandopalsandthewarmshallowsofislandseas.ButthelivingemeraldinKarla’seyes,madeluminousbythesunflowersofgoldlightthatsurroundedthepupils,wassofter,farsofter.
Idideventuallyfindthatcolour,thegreeninnaturethatwasaperfectmatchforthegreeninherlovelyeyes,butitwasn’tuntillongmonthsafterthatnightinLeopold’s.Andstrangely,inexplicably,Ididn’ttellheraboutit.IwishnowwithallmyheartthatIdid.Thepastreflectseternallybetweentwomirrors–thebrightmirrorofwordsanddeeds,andthedarkone,fullofthingswedidn’tdoorsay.Iwishnowthatfromthebeginning,eventheninthefirstweeksthatIknewher,evenonthatnight,thewordshadcometotellher…totellherthatIlikedher.
AndIdid-Ilikedeverythingabouther.IlikedtheHelvetianmusicofherSwiss-AmericanEnglish,andthewayshepushedherhairbackslowlywithathumbandforefingerwhenshewasirritatedbysomething.Ilikedthehard-edgedclevernessofherconversation,andtheeasy,gentlewayshetouchedthepeopleshelikedwhenshewalkedpastthemorsatbesidethem.Ilikedthewaysheheldmyeyesuntiltheprecisemomentwhenitstoppedbeingcomfortable,andthensmiled,softeningtheassail,butneverlookedaway.
Shelookedtheworldintheeyeandstareditdown,andIlikedthataboutherbecauseIdidn’tlovetheworldthen.Theworldwantedtokillmeorcatchme.TheworldwantedtoputmebackinthesamecageI’descapedfrom,wherethegoodguys,theguysinprison-guarduniformswhogotpaidtodotherightthing,hadchainedmetoawallandkickedmeuntiltheybrokemybones.Andmaybetheworldwasrighttowantthat.MaybeitwasnoworsethanIdeserved.Butrepression,theysay,breedsresistanceinsomemen,andIwasresistingtheworldwitheveryminuteofmylife.
TheworldandIarenotonspeakingterms,Karlasaidtomeonceinthoseearlymonths.Theworldkeepstryingtowinmeback,shesaid,butitdoesn’twork.IguessI’mjustnottheforgivingtype.AndIsawthatinher,too,rightfromthestart.Iknewfromthefirstminutehowmuchlikemeshewas.Iknewthedeterminationinherthatwasalmostbrutal,andthecouragethatwasalmostcruel,andthelonely,angrylongingtobeloved.Iknewallthat,butIdidn’tsayaword.Ididn’ttellherhowmuchIlikedher.Iwasnumb,inthosefirstyearsaftertheescape:shell-shockedbythedisastersthatwarredinmylife.Myheartmovedthroughdeepandsilentwater.No-one,andnothing,couldreallyhurtme.No-one,andnothing,couldmakemeveryhappy.Iwastough,whichisprobablythesaddestthingyoucansayaboutaman.
“You’rebecomingaregularhere,”sheteased,rufflingmyhairwithonehandasshesatdownatmytable.
Iloveditwhenshedidthat:itmeantthatshe’dreadmeaccurately,thatshewassureIwouldn’ttakeoffence.Iwasthirtythen-ugly,tallerthanaverage,withwideshoulders,adeepchest,andthickarms.Peopledidn’toftenrufflemyhair.
“Yeah.IguessIam.”
“So,youwentaroundontourwithPrabakeragain?Howwasittoday?”
“Hetookmetotheisland,Elephanta,toseethecaves.”
“Abeautifulplace,”sheremarkedquietly,lookingatme,butdreamingofsomethingelse.“Ifyougetthechance,youshouldvisittheAjantaandElloracaves,inthenorthofthestate.Ispentthenightthere,once,atAjanta,inoneofthecaves.Mybosstookmethere.”
“Yourboss?”
“Yes,myboss.”
“IsheEuropean,yourboss,orIndian?”
“Neitherone,actually.”
“Tellmeabouthim.”
“Why?”sheaskedwithadirect,frowningstare.
Iwassimplymakingconversation,tryingtokeephernearme,talkingtome,andthesuddenwarinessthatbristledinthesinglewordofherquestionsurprisedme.“It’snobigdeal,”Ireplied,smiling.“I’mjustcuriousabouthowpeoplegetworkhere,howtheymakealiving,that’sall.”
“Well,Imethimfiveyearsago,onalong-distanceflight,”shesaid,lookingdownatherhandsandseemingtorelaxoncemore.
“WebothgotontheplaneatZurich.IwasonmywaytoSingapore,butbythetimewegottoBombayhe’dconvincedmetogetofftheplaneandworkforhim.Thetriptothecaveswas…somethingspecial.Hearrangedit,somehow,withtheauthorities,andIwentuptherewithhim,andspentthenightinabigcave,fullofstonesculpturesoftheBuddha,andathousandchatteringbats.Iwassafe.Hehadabodyguardpostedoutside.Butitwasincredible.Afantasticexperience.Anditreallyhelpedmeto…toputthingsinfocus.Sometimesyoubreakyourheartintherightway,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
Iwasn’tsurewhatshemeant;butwhenshepaused,expectingareply,InoddedasifIdidunderstand.
“Youlearnsomethingoryou_feelsomethingcompletelynew,whenyoubreakyourheartthatway,”shesaid.“Somethingthatonlyyoucanknoworfeelinthatway.AndIknew,afterthatnight,IwouldneverhavethatfeelinganywherebutIndia.Iknew-Ican’texplainit,Ijustknewsomehow-thatIwashome,andwarm,andsafe.And,well,I’mstillhere…”
“Whatkindofbusinessishein?”
“What?”
“Yourboss-whatdoeshedo?”
“Imports,”shesaid.“Andexports.”
Shelapsedintosilence,turningherheadtoscantheothertables.
“Doyoumissyourhome?”
“Myhome?”
“Yeah,Imeanyourotherhome.Don’tyouevergethomesickforSwitzerland?”
“Inaway,yesIdo.IcomefromBasel-haveyoueverbeenthere?”
“No,I’veneverbeentoEurope.”
“Well,youmustgo,andwhenyougothereyoumustvisitBasel.
It’sreallyaveryEuropeancity,youknow?It’sdividedbytheriverRhineintoGreatBaselandSmallBasel,andthetwohalvesofthecityhavereallydifferentstylesandattitudes,soit’slikelivingintwocitiesatthesametime.Thatusedtosuitmeonce.Andit’srightonthemeetingplaceofthreecountries,soyoucanjustwalkacrosstheborderintoGermanyandFrance.YoucanhavebreakfastinFrance,youknow,withcoffeeandbaguettes,andlunchinSwitzerland,anddinnerinGermany,withoutleavingthecitybymorethanafewkilometres.ImissBasel,morethanImissSwitzerland.”
Shestopped,catchingherbreath,andlookedupatmethroughsoft,unpaintedlashes.
“Sorry,I’mgivingyouageographylessonhere.”
“No,no,pleasegoon.It’sinteresting.”
“Youknow,”shesaidslowly,“Ilikeyou,Lin.”
Shestaredthatgreenfireintome.Ifeltmyselfreddeningslightly,notfromembarrassment,butfromshame,thatshe’dsaidsoeasilytheverywords,Ilikeyou,thatIwouldn’tletmyselfsaytoher.
“Youdo?”Iasked,tryingtomakethequestionsoundmorecasualthanitwas.Iwatchedherlipscloseinathinsmile.
“Yes.You’reagoodlistener.That’sdangerous,becauseit’ssohardtoresist.Beinglistenedto-reallylistenedto-isthesecond-bestthingintheworld.”
“What’sthefirstbestthing?”
“Everybodyknowsthat.Thebestthingintheworldispower.”
“Oh,isit?”Iasked,laughing.“Whataboutsex?”
“No.Apartfromthebiology,sexisallaboutpower.That’swhyit’ssucharush.”
Ilaughedagain.
“Andwhataboutlove?Alotofpeoplesaythatloveisthebestthingintheworld,notpower.”
“They’rewrong,”shesaidwithtersefinality.“Loveistheoppositeofpower.That’swhywefearitsomuch.”
“Karla,dearone,thethingsyousay!”DidierLevysaid,joiningusandtakingaseatbesideKarla.“ImustmaketheconclusionthatyouhavewickedintentionsforourLin.”
“Youdidn’thearawordwesaid,”shechided.
“Idon’thaveto_hearyou.Icanseebythelookonhisface.
You’vebeentalkingyourriddlestohim,andturninghisheadaround.Youforget,Karla,thatIknowyoutoowell.Here,Lin,we’llcureyouatonce!”
Heshoutedtooneofthered-jacketedwaiters,callingthemanbythenumber“4”emblazonedonthebreastpocketonhisuniform.
“Hey!Charnumber!Dobattleebeer!Whatwillyouhave,Karla?
Coffee?Oh,charnumber!Ekcoffeeaur.Jaldikaro!”
DidierLevywasonlythirty-fiveyearsold,butthoseyearswerestitchedtohiminlumpywadsoffleshanddeeplinesthatgavehimtheplumpandcarewornlookofamucholderman.Indefianceofthehumidclimate,healwaysworebaggycanvastrousers,adenimshirt,andarumpled,greywoollensportscoat.Histhick,curlyblackhairneverseemedtobeshorterorlongerthanthelineofhiscollar,justasthestubbleonhistiredfaceneverseemedtobelessthanthreedaysfromitslastshave.HespokealavishlyaccentedEnglish,usingthelanguagetoprovokeandcriticisefriendandstrangeralikewithanindolentmalignity.
Therewerepeoplewhoresentedhisrudenessandrebukes,buttheytoleratedthembecausehewasfrequentlyusefulandoccasionallyindispensable.Heknewwhereeverything-fromapistol,toapreciousgem,toakiloofthefinestThai-whiteheroin-mightbeboughtorsoldinthecity.And,ashesometimesboasted,therewasverylittlehewouldn’tdofortherightamountofmoney,providedtherewasnosignificantrisktohiscomfortandpersonalsafety.
“Weweretalkingofthedifferentideaspeoplehaveaboutthebestthingintheworld,”Karlasaid,“ButIdon’thavetoaskwhatyouthink.”
“Youwouldsaythat_Ithinkmoneyisthebestthingintheworld,”hesuggestedlazily,“andwe’dbothberight.Everysaneandrationalpersononedayrealisesthatmoneyisalmosteverything.Thegreatprinciplesandthenoblevirtuesareallverywell,inthelongrunofhistory,butfromonedaytothenext,it’smoneythatkeepsusgoing-andthelackofitthatdrivesusunderthegreatwheel.Andwhataboutyou,Lin?Whatdidyousay?”
“Hedidn’tsayanythingyet,andnowthatyou’rehere,hewon’tgetachance.”
“Nowbefair,Karla.Tellus,Lin.Iwouldliketoknow.”
“Well,ifyoupressme,I’dhavetosayfreedom.”
“Thefreedomtodowhat?”heasked,puttingalittlelaughinthelastword.
“Idon’tknow.Maybejustthefreedomtosayno.Ifyou’vegotthatmuchfreedom,youreallydon’tneedanymore.”
Thebeerandcoffeearrived.Thewaiterslammedthedrinksontothetablewithrecklessdiscourtesy.Theserviceintheshops,hotels,andrestaurantsofBombay,inthosedays,movedfromapolitenessthatwascharmingorfawningtoarudenessthatwaseitherabruptorhostile.ThechurlishnessofLeopold’swaiterswaslegendary.It’smyfavouriteplaceinthewholeworld,Karlaoncesaid,tobetreatedlike_dirt.
“Atoast!”Didierdeclared,raisinghisglasstotouchmine.“Tothefreedom…todrink!_Salut!”
Hedrankhalfthelongglass,letoutaloud,wide-mouthedsighofpleasure,andthendranktherest.Hewaspouringhimselfasecondglasswhentwoothers,amanandawoman,joinedourgroup,sittingbetweenKarlaandme.Thedark,brooding,undernourishedyoungmanwasModena,adourandtaciturnSpaniardwhodidblack-marketbusinesswithFrench,Italian,andAfricantourists.Hiscompanion,aslimandprettyGermanprostitutenamedUlla,hadforsometimeallowedhimtocallhimselfherlover.
“Ah,Modena,youarejustintimetobuythenextround,”Didiershouted,reachingpastKarlatoslaphimontheshoulder.“Iwillhaveawhiskyandsoda,ifyouplease.”
Theshortermanflinchedundertheblowandscowledunhappily,buthecalledthewaitertohisside,andordereddrinks.UllawasspeakingwithKarlainamixtureofGermanandEnglishthat,byaccidentorintent,obscuredthemostinterestingpartsofherconversation.
“HowcouldIknowit,_na?HowwasitpossibleformetoknowthathewasaSpinner?Totalverruckt,Itellyou.Atthestart,helookedtotallystraighttome.Or,maybe,doyouthinkthatwasasign?Maybehewasalittlebittoostraightlooking._Na_ja,tenminutesintheroomanderwollteaufderKlamottenkommen.Onmybestdress!Ihadtofightwithhimtosavemyclothes,derSprintficker!Spritzenwollteer,allovermyclothes!Gibt’sjanicht.Andlater,whenIwenttothebathroomforalittlesniffofcokes,IcamebacktoseedasserseinenSchwanzganztiefineinermeinerSchuhehat!Canyoubelieveit!
Inmyshoe!_Nicht_zu_fassen.”
“Let’sfaceit,”Karlasaidgently,“Thecrazyonesalwaysknowhowtofindyou,Ulla.”
“Ja,leider.WhatcanIsay?Crazypeopleloveme.”
“Don’tlistentoher,Ullamylove,”Didierconsoledher.
“Crazinessisthebasisofmanyafinerelationship.Infact,crazinessisthebasisofeveryfinerelationship!”
“Didier,”Ullasighed,mouthinghisnamewithasmileofexquisitesweetness,“haveItoldyoutogetfuckedyet?”
“No!”helaughed,“ButIforgiveyouforthelapse.Betweenus,mydarling,suchthingsarealwaysimplied,andunderstood.”
Thewhiskyarrived,infoursmallflasks,andthewaiterprisedthetopsofftwosodabottleswithabrassbottleopenerthathungfromachainathisbelt.Heletthetopsbounceonthetableandfalltothefloor,thenswishedagrimyragoverthewetsurfaceofthetable,forcingustoduckandweaveasthemoisturespilledinalldirections.
Twomenapproachedourtablefromdifferentpartsoftherestaurant,onetospeaktoDidierandtheotherwithModena.
Ullausedthemomenttoleanclosetome.Underthetableshepressedsomethingintomyhand-itfeltlikeasmallrollofbanknotes-andhereyespleadedwithmenottodrawattentiontoit.
Asshetalkedtome,Islippedthenotesintomypocketwithoutlookingatthem.
“Sohaveyoudecidedhowlongyou’regoingtostay?”sheasked.
“Idon’treallyknow.I’minnohurry.”
“Don’tyouhavesomeonewaitingforyousomewhere,orsomeoneyoushouldgoto?”sheasked,smilingwithadroitbutpassionlesscoquetry.Seductionwasahabitwithher.Sheturnedthatsamesmileonhercustomers,herfriends,thewaiters,evenonDidier,whomsheopenlydisliked-oneveryone,infact,includingherlover,Modena.Inthemonthsandyearsthatfollowed,IheardalotofpeoplecriticiseUlla,someofthemcruelly,forherflirtations.Ididn’tagreewiththem.Itseemedtome,asIgottoknowherwell,thatsheflirtedwiththeworldbecauseflirtingwastheonlyrealkindnesssheeverkneworshared:itwasherwayofbeingnice,andofmakingsurethatpeople-men-werenicetoher.Shebelievedthattherewasn’tenoughnicenessintheworld,andshesaidso,inexactlythosewords,morethanonce.Itwasn’tdeepfeeling,anditwasn’tdeepthinking,butitwasright,asfarasitwent,andtherewasnorealharminit.
Andwhatthehell,shewasabeautifulgirl,anditwasaverygoodsmile.
“No,”Ilied.“There’sno-onewaiting,andno-oneIshouldgoto.”
“Anddon’tyouhaveany,wiesollichdassagen,anyprogram?Anyplan?”
“Notreally.I’mworkingonabook.”
Duringthetimesincetheescape,I’dlearnedthattellingpeopleasmallpartofthetruth-thatIwasawriter-providedmewithausefulandflexiblecoverstory.Itwasvagueenoughtoexplainextendedstaysorsuddendepartures,andthewordresearchwascomprehensiveenoughtoaccountforinquiriesaboutcertainsubjects,suchastransportandtravelandtheavailabilityoffalsedocuments,thatIwassometimesforcedtomake.Moreover,thecoverstoryguaranteedmeameasureofprivacy:thesimplethreattotellpeople,atlength,ofmyworkinprogressusuallydiscouragedallbutthemostpersistentlycurious.
AndIwasawriter.InAustraliaI’dwrittensincemyearlytwenties.I’djustbeguntoestablishmyselfthroughmyfirstpublishedworkwhenmymarriagecollapsed,Ilostthecustodyofmydaughter,andIlostmylifeindrugs,crime,imprisonment,andescape.Butevenasafugitive,writingwasstilladailycustomandpartofmyinstinctualroutine.Eventhere,inLeopold’s,mypocketswerefullofnotes,scribbledontonapkins,receipts,andscrapsofpaper.Ineverstoppedwriting.ItwaswhatIdid,nomatterwhereIwasorhowmycircumstanceschanged.OneofthereasonsIrememberthoseearlyBombaymonthssowellisthat,wheneverIwasalone,Iwroteaboutthosenewfriendsandtheconversationsweshared.Andwritingwasoneofthethingsthatsavedme:thedisciplineandabstractionofputtingmylifeintowords,everyday,helpedmetocopewithshameanditsfirstcousin,despair.
“Well,Scheisse,Idon’tseewhat’stowriteaboutinBombay.
It’snogoodplace,ja.MyfriendLisasaysthisistheplacetheywerethinkingabout,whentheyinventedthewordpits.AndIthinkitisagoodplaceforcallingapits.Betteryoushouldgosomewhereelsetowriteabout,likeRajasthanmaybe.Ididhearthatit’snotapitsthere,inRajasthan.”
“She’sright,Lin,”Karlaadded.“ThisisnotIndia.TherearepeopleherefromeverypartofIndia,butBombayisn’tIndia.
BombayisanOwn-world,aworldinitself.TherealIndiaisoutthere.”
“Outthere?”
“Outthere,wherethelightstops.”
“I’msureyou’reright,”Ianswered,smilinginappreciationofthephrase.“ButIlikeithere,sofar.Ilikebigcities,andthisisthethird-biggestcityintheworld.”
“You’rebeginningtosoundlikeyourtourguide,”Karlajoked.“Ithink,maybe,Prabakerhasbeenteachingyoutoowell.”
“Iguesshehas.He’sbeenfillingmyheadwithfactsandfigureseverydayfortwoweeks-quiteamazingreally,foraguywholeftschoolwhenhewasseven,andtaughthimselftoreadandwritehereonthestreets.”
“Whatfactsandfigures?”Ullaasked.
“Well,forinstance,theofficialpopulationofBombayiselevenmillion,butPrabusaystheguyswhoruntheillegalnumbersrackethaveabetterideaoftherealpopulation,andtheyputitatanythingfromthirteentofifteenmillion.Andtherearetwohundreddialectsandlanguagesspokeninthecityeveryday.Twohundred,forGod’ssake!It’slikebeinginthecentreoftheworld.”
Asifinresponsetothattalkoflanguages,UllaspoketoKarlaquicklyandintentlyinGerman.AtasignfromModenashestood,andgatheredherpurseandcigarettes.ThequietSpaniardleftthetablewithoutaword,andwalkedtowardtheopenarchwaythatledtothestreet.
“Ihaveajob,”Ullaannounced,poutingwinsomely.“Seeyoutomorrow,Karla.Abouteleveno’clock,ja?Maybewe’llhavedinnertogethertomorrownight,Lin,ifyou’rehere?Iwouldlikethat.Bye!_Tschus!”
ShewalkedoutafterModena,followedbyleersandadmiringstaresfrommanyofthemeninthebar.Didierchosethatmomenttovisitseveralacquaintancesatanothertable.KarlaandIwerealone.
“Shewon’t,youknow.”
“Won’twhat?”
“Shewon’thavedinnerwithyoutomorrownight.It’sjustherway.”
“Iknow,”Igrinned.
“Youlikeher,don’tyou?”
“Yeah,Ido.What-doesthatstrikeyouasfunny?”
“Inaway,yes.Shelikesyou,too.”
Shepaused,andIthoughtshewasabouttoexplainherremark,butwhenshespokeagainitwastochangethesubject.
“Shegaveyousomemoney.Americandollars.Shetoldmeaboutit,inGerman,soModenawouldn’tunderstand.You’resupposedtogiveittome,andshe’llcollectitfrommyplaceateleventomorrow.”
“Okay.Doyouwantitnow?”
“No,don’tgiveittomehere.Ihavetogonow.Ihaveanappointment.I’llbebackinaboutanhour.Canyouwaittillthen?Orcomeback,andmeetmethen?Youcanwalkmehome,ifyoulike.”
“Sure,I’llbehere.”
Shestoodtoleave,andIstoodalso,drawingbackherchair.Shegavemealittlesmile,withoneeyebrowraisedinironyormockeryorboth.
“Iwasn’tjokingbefore.YoureallyshouldleaveBombay.”
Iwatchedherwalkouttothestreet,andstepintothebackofaprivatetaxithathadobviouslybeenwaitingforher.Asthecream-colouredcareasedintotheslowstreamofnighttraffic,aman’shandemergedfromthepassengerwindow,thickfingersclutchingastringofgreenprayerbeads,andwarningawaypedestrianswithawave.
Aloneagain,Isatdown,setmychairagainstthewall,andlettheactivityofLeopold’sanditsclamorouspatronscloseoverme.Leopold’swasthelargestbarandrestaurantinColaba,andoneofthelargestinthecity.Therectangularground-floorroomoccupiedafrontageequaltoanyfourotherrestaurants,andwasservedbytwometaldoorsthatrolledupintowoodenarchestogiveanexpansiveviewoftheCauseway,Colaba’sbusiestandmostcolourfulstreet.Therewasasmaller,morediscreet,air-conditionedbaronthefirstfloor,supportedbysturdycolumnsthatdividedthegroundfloorintoroughlyequalsections,andaroundwhichmanyofthetablesweregrouped.Mirrorsonthosepillars,andonmuchofthefreewallspace,providedthepatronswithoneofthebar’smajorattractions:thechancetoinspect,admire,andogleothersinacircumspectifnotentirelyanonymousfashion.Formany,theduplicationoftheirownimagesintwoormoremirrorsatthesametimewasnotleastamongthepleasuresofthepastime.Leopold’swasaplaceforpeopletosee,tobeseen,andtoseethemselvesintheactofbeingseen.
Thereweresomethirtytables,allofthemtoppedwithpearl-smokedIndianmarble.Eachtablehadfourormorecedarchairs-
sixty-minute_chairs,Karlausedtocallthem,becausetheywerejustuncomfortableenoughtodiscouragecustomersfromstayingformorethananhour.Aswarmofbroadfansbuzzedinthehighceiling,stirringthewhite-glasspendulumlightstoaslow,majesticsway.Mahoganytrimlinedthepaintedwalls,surroundedthewindowsanddoors,andframedthemanymirrors.
Richfruitsusedindessertsandjuices-pawpaw,papaya,custardapples,mosambi,grapes,watermelon,banana,santra,and,intheseason,fourvarietiesofmango-weredisplayedacrossthewholesurfaceofonewallingorgeousabundance.Avast,solid-teakmanager’scounterpresided,likethebridgeofasailingship,overthebusydeckoftherestaurant.Behindthat,alonganarrowcorridor,onecornerofthefrantickitchenwasoccasionallyvisiblebeyondthescurryofwaitersandthesweatingcloudsofsteam.
AfadedbutstillsumptuouselegancestruckandheldtheeyesofallwhowalkedthroughthosewidearchesintoLeopold’slittleworldoflight,colour,andrichlypanelledwood.Itschiefsplendourwastrulyadmiredbynonebutitshumblestworkers,however,foritwasonlywhenthebarwasclosed,andthecleanersremovedallthefurnitureeachmorning,thatthebeautyofthefloorwasexposed.
Itsintricatetile-workreplicatedthepatternusedinanorthIndianpalace,withhexagonsinblack,cream,andbrownradiatingfromacentralsunburst.Andthusapavingdesignedforprinces,allbutinvisibletothetouristswiththeireyesontheirownreflectionsinthedazzlingmirrors,revealeditsluxuriousperfectionsonlyinsecrettothenakedfeetofcleaners,thecity’spoorestandmeekestworkingmen.
Foronecool,precioushoureachmorningafteritopened,andthefloorshadbeencleaned,Leopold’swasanoasisofquietinthestrugglingcity.Fromthen,untilitclosedatmidnight,itwasconstantlycrowdedwithvisitorsfromahundredcountries,andthemanylocals,bothforeignandIndian,whocametherefromeverypartofthecitytoconducttheirbusiness.Thebusinessrangedfromtrafficindrugs,currencies,passports,gold,andsex,totheintangiblebutnolesslucrativetradeininfluence-theunofficialsystemofbribesandfavoursbywhichmanyappointments,promotions,andcontractswerefacilitatedinIndia.
Leopold’swasanunofficialfreezone,scrupulouslyignoredbytheotherwiseefficientofficersoftheColabapolicestation,directlyacrossthebusystreet.Yetapeculiardialecticappliedtotherelationshipsbetweenupstairsanddown,insideandoutsidetherestaurant,andgovernedallofthebusinesstransactedthere.Indianprostitutes,garlandedwithropesofjasmineflowersandplumplywrappedinbejewelledsaris,wereprohibiteddownstairs,andonlyaccompaniedcustomerstotheupstairsbar.Europeanprostituteswereonlypermittedtositdownstairs,attractingtheinterestofmenwhosatatothertables,orsimplypausedonthestreetoutside.Dealsfordrugsandothercontrabandwereopenlytransactedatthetables,butthegoodscouldonlybeexchangedoutsidethebar.Itwascommonenoughtoseebuyerandsellerreachagreementonprice,walkoutsidetohandovermoneyandgoods,thenwalkbackinsidetoresumetheirplacesatatable.Eventhebureaucratsandinfluencepeddlerswereboundbythoseunwrittenrules:agreementsreachedinthedarkboothsoftheupstairsbarcouldonlybesealed,withhandshakesandcash,onthepavementoutside,sothatnomancouldsayhe’dpaidorreceivedbribeswithinthewallsofLeopold’s.
Whilethefinelinesthatdividedandconnectedthelegalandillegalwerenowheremoreelegantlydrawn,theyweren’tuniquetothediversesocietyofLeopold’s.ThetradersinthestreetstallsoutsidesoldcounterfeitsofLacoste,Cardin,andCartierwithacertainimpudentpanache,thetaxidriversparkedalongthestreetacceptedtipstotilttheirmirrorsawayfromtheunlawfulorforbiddenactsthattookplaceontheseatsbehindthem,andanumberofthecopswhoattendedtotheirdutieswithdiligence,atthestationacrosstheroad,hadpaidheftybribesfortheprivilegeofthatlucrativepostinginthecitycentre.
SittingatLeopold’s,nightafternight,andlisteningtotheconversationsatthetablesaroundme,IheardmanyforeignersandnotafewIndianscomplainaboutthecorruptionthatadheredtoeveryaspectofpublicandcommerciallifeinBombay.Myfewweeksinthecityhadalreadyshownmethatthosecomplaintswereoftenfair,andoftentrue.Butthere’snonationuncorrupted.
There’snosystemthat’simmunetothemisuseofmoney.
Privilegedandpowerfulelitesgreasethewheelsoftheirprogresswithkickbacksandcampaigncontributionsinthenoblestassemblies.Andtherich,allovertheworld,livelongerandhealthierlivesthanthepoor.Thereisadifferencebetweenthedishonestbribeandthehonestbribe,DidierLevyoncesaidtome.Thedishonestbribeisthesameineverycountry,butthehonestbribeisIndia’salone.Ismiledwhenhesaidthat,becauseIknewwhathemeant.Indiawasopen.Indiawashonest.
AndIlikedthatfromthefirstday.Myinstinctwasn’ttocriticise.Myinstinct,inthecityIwaslearningtolove,wastoobserve,andbecomeinvolved,andenjoy.Icouldn’tknowthenthat,inthemonthsandyearstocome,myfreedomandevenmylifewoulddependontheIndianwillingnesstotiltthemirror.
“What,alone?”Didiergasped,returningtothetable.“C’esttrop!Don’tyouknow,mydearfriend,itisfaintlydisgustingtobealonehere?And,ImusttellyouthatbeingdisgustingisaprivilegeIreserve,exclusively,formyself.Come,wewilldrink.”
Hefloppedintoachairbesideme,callinghiswaitertoordermoredrinks.I’dspokentohimatLeopold’salmosteverynightforweeks,butwe’dneverbeenalone.Itsurprisedmethathe’ddecidedtojoinmebeforeUlla,Karla,oranotherofhisfriendsreturned.Inasmallway,itwasakindofacceptance,andIfeltgratefulforit.
Hedrummedhisfingersonthetableuntilthewhiskyarrived,drankhalfhisglassinagreedygulpandthenrelaxedatlast,turningtomewithanarrow-eyedsmile.
“Youareheavyinthoughts.”
“IwasthinkingaboutLeopold’s-lookingaround,andtakingitallin.”
“Aterribleplace,”hesighed,shakinghisheadofthickcurls.
“Ihatemyselfforenjoyingitsomuchhere.”
Twomen,wearingloosetrousersgatheredtightlyattheanklesanddarkgreenvestsovertheirlong-sleeved,thigh-lengthshirts,approachedus,anddrewDidier’skeenattention.Theynoddedtohim,provokingabroadsmileandawave,andthenjoinedagroupoffriendsatatablenotfarfromourown.
“Dangerousmen,”Didiermuttered,thesmilestillcreasinghisfaceashestaredattheirbacks.“Afghans.Rafiq,thesmallone,heusedtoruntheblackmarketinbooks.”
“Books?”
“Passports.Hewastheboss.Averybigfellow,previously.NowherunsbrownsugarthroughPakistan.Hemakesalotmoremoneyfromthebrownsugar,butheisverybitteraboutthislosingofthebookbusiness.Menwerekilledinthatstruggle-mostofthemhismen.”
Itwasn’tpossiblethattheycould’veheardtheremark,butjustthenthetwoAfghansturnedintheirseatsandstaredatuswithdark,seriousexpressions,asifrespondingtohiswords.Oneoftheircompanionsatthetableleanedclose,andspoketothem.HepointedatDidier,thenatme,andtheyshiftedtheirgazetolookdirectlyintomyeyes.
“Killed…”Didierrepeatedsoftly,smilingevenmorebroadlyuntilthetwomenturnedtheirbackstousoncemore.“Iwouldrefusetodobusinesswiththem,ifonlytheydidnotdosuchgoodbusiness.”
Hewasspeakingoutofthecornerofhismouth,likeaprisonerundertheeyesofthewarders.Itstruckmeasfunny.InAustralianprisons,thatwhisperingtechniqueisknownas_side-
_valving.Theexpressionspokeitselfclearlyinmymindand,togetherwithDidier’smannerism,thewordsputmebackinaprisoncell.Icouldsmellthecheapdisinfectant,hearthemetalhissofthekeys,andfeelthesweatingstoneundermyfingertips.Flashbacksarecommontoex-prisoners,cops,soldiers,ambulancedrivers,firefighters,andotherswhoseeandexperiencetrauma.Sometimestheflashbackissosudden,andsoinappropriatetothesurroundingcircumstance,thattheonlysanereactionisfoolish,uncontrollablelaughter.
“YouthinkI’mjoking?”Didierpuffedindignantly.“No,no,notatall.”
“Thisisthetruth,Iassureyou.Therewasasmallwaroverthisbusiness.See,here,evennowaswespeak,thevictorsarrive.
ThatisBairam,andhismen.HeisIranian.Heisanenforcer,andoneofthosewhoworksforAbdulGhani,who,inhisturn,worksforoneofthegreatcrimelordsofthecity,AbdelKhaderKhan.Theywonthislittlewar,andnowitistheywhocontrolthebusinessinpassportbooks.”
Hegesturedwithaslightnodofhisheadtopointoutagroupofyoungmen,dressedinstylishwesternjeansandjackets,who’djustenteredthroughoneofthearches.Theywalkedtothemanager’sdeskandgreetedtheownersofLeopold’swarmlybeforetakingatableonthefarsideoftheroom.Theleaderoftheirgroupwasatall,heavy-setmaninhisearlythirties.Heliftedhisplump,jovialfaceabovetheheadsofhisfriendsandswepttheroomfromrighttoleft,acknowledgingdeferentialnodsandfriendlysmilesfromanumberofacquaintancesatothertables.
Ashiseyesfoundus,Didierwavedagreeting.
“Blood,”hesaidsoftly,throughhisbrightsmile.“Foratimeyet,thesepassportswillbestampedinblood.Formeitisnothing.InmattersoffoodIamFrench,inmattersofloveIamItalian,andinmattersofbusinessIamSwiss.VerySwiss.
Strictlyneutral.Buttherewillbemorebloodonthesebooks,ofthatIamsure.”
Heturnedtomeandblinkedonce,twice,asifseveringthethreadofdaydreamwithhisthicklashes.
“Imustbedrunk,”hesaidwithpleasurablesurprise.“Let’shaveanotherdrink.”
“Yougoahead.I’llsitonthisone.Howmuchdothesepassportscost?”
“Anythingfromonehundredtoonethousand-dollars,ofcourse.
Doyouwanttobuyone?”
“No…”
“Ah.ThisisaBombaygolddealer’sno.Itisanothatmeansmaybe,andthemorepassionatetheno,themoredefinitethemaybe.Whenyouwantone,cometome.Iwillarrangeitforyou-forasmallcommission,ofcourse.”
“Youmakealotof…commissionshere?”
“Mmm,itgoes.Icannotcomplain,”hegrinned,hisblueeyesgleamingthroughlensesofpink,alcoholicwetness.“Imakeendsmeet,astheysay,andwhentheymeetIgetapaymentfrombothoftheends.Justnow,tonight,Imadethearrangementsforasale-twokilosofManalihashish.YouseethoseItaliantourists,overthere,bythefruits,thefellowwiththelong,blondehair,andthegirlinred?Theywantedtobuy.Someone-youseehim,outthereonthestreet,theonewithadirtyshirtandnoshoes,waitingforhiscommission-heputthemtome,andthenIinmyturnputthemtoAjay.Hemakeshashishbusiness,andheisanexcellentcriminal.
Seenow,hesitswiththem,andallaresmiling.Thedealisdone.Myworkforthisnightisfinished.Iamafreeman!”
Hethumpedthetableforanotherdrink,butwhenthesmallbottlearrivedhegraspeditforawhilewithbothhands,staringatitwithabrooding,pensiveexpression.
“HowlongwillyoustayinBombay?”heasked,withoutlookingatme.
“Idon’tknow.It’sfunny,everyoneseemstoaskmethatinthelastfewdays.”
“Youhavealreadystayedlongerthantheusual.Mostpeoplecannotdepartthecitytooquickly.”
“There’saguide,Prabaker’shisname,doyouknowhim?”
“PrabakerKharre?Thebigsmile?”
“That’shim.He’sbeenshowingmearoundforweeksnow.I’veseenallthetemplesandmuseumsandartgalleries,andalotofthebazaars.Fromtomorrowmorninghe’spromisedtoshowmesomethingoftheothersideofthecity-thereallycity,hecalledit.Hemadeitsoundinteresting.I’llstickaroundforthat,andmakemymindupthenwhereIwanttogonext.I’minnohurry.”
“It’saverysadthing,tobeinnohurry,andIwouldnotbesofreeinadmittingit,ifIwereyou,”hesaid,stillstaringatthebottle.Whenhewasn’tsmilinghisfacelookedflabby,slack,andpallidgrey.Hewasunwell,butitwasthekindofunwellyouhavetoworkat.“WehaveasayinginMarseilles:amaninnohurrygetsnowherefast.Ihavebeeninnohurryforeightyears.”
Suddenlyhismoodchanged.Hepouredasplashfromthebottle,lookedatmewithasmile,andraisedhisglass.
“So,let’sdrink!ToBombay,afineplacetobeinnohurry!Andtocivilisedpolicemen,whowillacceptabribe,intheinterestsoftheorder,ifnotofthelaw.To_baksheesh!”
“I’lldrinktothat,”Isaid,clatteringmyglassagainsthisinthetoast.“So,tellme,Didier,whatkeepsyouhereinBombay?”
“IamFrench,”hereplied,admiringthedewonhishalf-raisedglass,“Iamgay,IamJewish,andIamacriminal,moreorlessinthatorder.BombayistheonlycityIhaveeverfoundthatallowsmetobeallfourofthosethings,atthesametime.”
Welaughed,anddrank,andheturnedhisgazeonthewideroom,hishungryeyesfinallycomingtorestonagroupofIndianmenwhosatnearoneoftheentrances.Hestudiedthemforawhile,sippingslowlyathisdrink.
“Well,ifyoudecidetostay,youhavepickedagoodtimeforit.
Thisisatimeofchanges.Greatchanges.Youseethosemen,eatingfoodswithsuchstrongappetite?TheyareSainiks,workersfortheShivSena.Hatchetmen,Ithink,isthecharmingEnglishpoliticalphrase.Yourguide,hashetoldyouoftheSena?”
“No,Idon’tthinkso.”
“Aconsciouslapse,Iwouldsay.TheShivSenaPartyisthefaceofthefutureinBombay.Perhapstheirmodeandtheirpolitiqueisthefutureeverywhere.”
“Whatkindofpolitics?”
“Oh,regional,language-based,ethnic,us-against-them,”hereplied,sneeringcynicallyashetickedeachcharacteristicoffonthefingersofhislefthand.Theywereverywhite,softhands.Hislongfingernailswereblackwithdirtundertheedges.
“Thepoliticsoffear.Ihatepolitics,andpoliticiansevenmore.Theymakeareligionofbeinggreedy.It’sunforgivable.Aman’srelationshiptohisgreedisadeeplypersonalthing,don’tyouthink?TheShivSenacontrolsthepolice,becausetheyareaMaharashtrianparty,andmostofthelowerranksofthepoliceareMaharashtrians.Theycontrolalotoftheslums,too,andmanyoftheunions,andsomeofthepress.Theyhaveeverything,infact,exceptthemoney.Oh,theyhavethesupportofthesugarbarons,andsomeofthemerchants,buttherealmoney-theindustrialmoneyandtheblackmoney-thatisinthehandsoftheParseesandtheHindusfromothercitiesinIndiaand,mosthatedofall,theMuslims.Andhereisthestruggle,theguerreeconomique,thetruthbehindtheirtalkofraceandlanguageandregion.Theyarechangingthecity,alittlelessandalittlemoreeveryday.Eventhenamehasbeenchanged,fromBombaytoMumbai.Theyhaven’tmanagedtochangethemaps,yet,buttheywilldoit.Andtheywilldoalmostanything,joinwithalmostanyone,intheirquest.Thereareopportunities.Fortunes.JustinthelastfewmonthssomeSainiks-oh,notthepublicones,notthehighlyplacedones-madeadealwithRafiqandhisAfghansandthepolice.Inexchangeforcertaincashandconcessions,thepolicecloseddownallbutafewoftheopiumdensinthecity.Dozensofthefinestsmokingparlours,placesthathaveservedthecommunityforgenerations,wereclosedinasingleweek.Closedforever!
Normally,Idonotinterestmyselfinthepigstyofpolitics,orintheslaughterhouseofbigbusiness,forthatmatter.Theonlyforcemoreruthlessandcynicalthanthebusinessofbigpoliticsisthepoliticsofbigbusiness.Butthisisbigpoliticsandbigbusinesstogether,inthedestructionoftheopiumsmoking,andIamincensed!Iaskyou,whatisBombaywithoutitschandu-itsopium-anditsopiumdens?Whatistheworldcomingto?It’sadisgrace!”
Iwatchedthemenhe’ddescribed,astheyconcentratedwithenergeticsingle-mindednessontheirmeal.Thetablewasheapedwithplattersofrice,chicken,andvegetabledishes.Noneofthefivemenspoke,nordidtheysomuchaslookatoneanotherastheyate,bendinglowtotheirplatesandscoopingthefoodintotheirmouthsrapidly.
“That’saprettygoodline,”Icommented,grinningwidely.“Theoneaboutthebusinessofbigpolitics,andthepoliticsofbigbusiness.Ilikeit.”
“Ah,mydearfriend,Icannotclaimitasmyown.ItwasKarlawhosaidittomethefirsttime,andIhaveusediteversince.
Iamguiltyofmanycrimes-ofmostcrimes,tosaythetruth-butIhaveneverclaimedaclevernessthatwasnotmyown.”
“Admirable,”Ilaughed.
“Well,”hepuffed,“amanhastodrawthelinesomewhere.
Civilisation,afterall,isdefinedbywhatweforbid,morethanwhatwepermit.”
Hepaused,drummingthefingersofhisrighthandonthecoldmarbletabletop.Afterafewmoments,heglancedaroundatme.
“Thatisoneofmine,”hesaid,apparentlypeevedthatIhadn’tdrawnattentiontothephrase.WhenIdidn’treact,hespokeagain.“Aboutthecivilisation…itwasoneofmine.”
“Anddamnclever,”Irespondedquickly.
“Nothingatall,”hesaidmodestly,thenhecaughtmyeye,andwebothlaughedoutloud.
“WhatwasinitforRafiq,ifyoudon’tmindmyasking.Thatstuffaboutclosingalltheopiumdens.Whydidhegoalongwithit?”“Goalongwithit?”Didierfrowned,“Why,itwashisidea.Thereismoremoneytobemadefromgarad-brownsugarheroin-thanthereisfromopium.Andnoweveryone,allthepoorwhowerechandusmokers,theyhavebecomegaradsmokers.Rafiqcontrolsthegarad,thebrownsugar.Notallofit,ofcourse.NoonemancontrolsallthethousandsofkilosofbrownsugarthatcomefromAfghanistan,throughPakistan,intoIndia.Butalotofitishis,alotoftheBombaybrownheroin.Thisisbigmoney,myfriend,bigmoney.”
“Whydidthepoliticiansgoalongwithit?”
“Ah,itisnotonlybrownsugarandhashishthatcomesfromAfghanistanintoIndia,”heconfided,loweringhisvoiceandspeakingfromthecornerofhismouthoncemore.“Thereareguns,heavyweapons,explosives.TheSikhsareusingtheseweaponsnow,inPunjab,andtheMuslimseparatistsinKashmir.Thereareweapons,yousee.Andthereispower,thepowertospeakformanyofthepoorMuslimswhoaretheenemiesoftheShivSena.Ifyoucontrolonetrade,thedrugs,youcaninfluencetheother,theguns.AndtheSenaPartyisdesperatetocontroltheflowofgunsintotheirstate,theirMaharashtra.Moneyandpower.Lookthere,atthetablenexttoRafiqandhismen.YouseethethreeAfricans,twomenandawoman?”
“Yes.Inoticedherbefore.She’sverybeautiful.”
Heryoungface,withitsprominentcheekbones,softlyflarednose,andveryfulllips,lookedasifithadbeencarvedinvolcanicstonebytherushofariver.Herhairwasbraidedintoamultitudeoflong,fine,beadedplaits.Shelaughed,sharingajokewithherfriends,andherteethgleamedlargeandperfectlywhite.
“Beautiful?Ithinknot.AmongtheAfricans,themenarebeautiful,inmyopinion,whereasthewomenaremerelyveryattractive.ForEuropeans,theoppositeistrue.Karlaisbeautiful,andIneverknewaEuropeanmanwhoisbeautifulinthatway.Butthatisanothermatter.ImeanonlytosaythattheyarecustomersofRafiq,Nigerians,andthattheirbusinessbetweenBombayandLagosisoneoftheconcessions-aspin-offistheterm,Ithink-ofthisdealwiththeSainiks.TheSenahasamanatBombayCustoms.Somuchmoneyismovingfromhandtohand.Rafiq’slittleschemeisatangleofcountries,AfghanistanandIndia,PakistanandNigeria,andofpowers-policeandcustomsandpoliticians.AllofitisapartofthestruggleforcontrolhereinourcursedandbelovedBombay.Andallofit,allthisintrigue,growsfromtheclosingdownofmydearoldopiumdens.Atragedy.”
“ThisRafiq,”Imuttered,perhapssoundingmoreflippantthanI’dintended,“isquiteaguy.”
“HeisAfghan,andhiscountryisatwar,myfriend.Thatgiveshimanedge,astheAmericanssay.AndheworksfortheWalidlallamafiacouncil-oneofthemostpowerful.HisclosestassociateisChuha,oneofthemostdangerousmeninBombay.Buttherealpowerhere,inthispartofthecity,isthegreatdon,lordAbdelKhaderKhan.Heisapoet,aphilosopher,andalordofcrime.TheycallhimKhaderbhai.Khader-_Elder-_Brother.Thereareothers,withmoremoneyandmoregunsthanKhaderbhai-heisamanofrigidprinciples,yousee,andtherearemanylucrativethingsthathewillnotdo.Butthosesameprinciplesgivehim-IamnotsurehowtosayitinEnglish-theimmoralhighground,perhaps,andthereisno-one,inthispartofBombay,whohasmorerealpowerthanhedoes.Manypeoplebelievethatheisasaint,withsupernaturalcapabilities.Iknowhim,andIcantellyouthatKhaderbhaiisthemostfascinatingmanIevermet.Ifyouwillallowmethesmallimmodesty,thismakeshimatrulyremarkableindividual,forIhavemetagreatmanyinterestingmeninmylife.”
Heleftthewordstoswirlforamomentintheeyecontactbetweenus.
“Come,youarenotdrinking!Ihateitwhenpeopletakesolongtodrinkasingleglass.Itislikeputtingonacondomtomasturbate.”
“Noreally,”Ilaughed.“I,er,I’mwaitingforKarlatocomeback.She’sdueanyminutenow.”
“Ah,Karla…”Hesaidhernamewithalong,purringroll.“AndjustwhatareyourintentionswithourinscrutableKarla?”
“Comeagain?”
“Perhapsitismoreusefultowonderwhatintentionsshehasfor_you,no?”
Hepouredthelastoftheone-litrebottleintohisglassandtoppeditupwiththelastofthesoda.He’dbeendrinkingsteadilyformorethananhour.Hiseyeswereasveinedandbloodshotasthebackofaboxer’sfist,butthegazethatstaredfromthemwasunwavering,andhishandswerepreciseintheirmovements.
“Isawheronthestreet,justhoursafterIlandedinBombay,”Ifoundmyselfsaying.“Therewassomethingaboutherthat…Ithinkshe’soneofthereasonswhyI’vestayedherethislong.
HerandPrabaker.Ilikethem-Ilikedthembothonsight.I’mapeopleperson,ifyouknowwhatImean.Ifthepeopleinitwereinteresting,I’dpreferatinshedtotheTajMahal-notthatI’veseentheTajMahalyet.”
“Itleaks,”Didiersniffed,dismissingthearchitecturalwonderwithtwowords.“Butdidyousayinteresting!Karlaisinteresting?”
Helaughedoutloudagain.Itwasapeculiarlyhigh-pitchedlaugh,harshandalmosthysterical.Heslappedmehardontheback,spillingalittleofhisdrink.
“Ha!Youknow,Lin,Iapproveofyou,evenifacommendationfrommeisaveryfragileendorsement.”
Hedrainedhisglass,thumpeditonthetable,andwipedhiscloselytrimmedmoustachewiththebackofhishand.Whenhesawmypuzzledexpression,heleanedcloseuntilourfaceswereonlyafewcentimetresapart.
“Letmeexplainsomethingtoyou.Lookaroundhere.Howmanypeopledoyoucount?”
“Well,maybe,sixty,eighty.”
“Eightypeople.Greeks,Germans,Italians,French,Americans.
Touristsfromeverywhere.Eating,drinking,talking,laughing.
AndfromBombay-IndiansandIraniansandAfghansandArabsandAfricans.Buthowmanyofthesepeoplehaverealpower,realdestiny,realdynamiquefortheirplace,andtheirtime,andthelivesofthousandsofpeople?Iwilltellyou-four.Fourpeopleinthisroomwithpower,andtherestareliketherestofthepeopleeverywhere:powerless,sleepersinthedream,anonyme.
WhenKarlacomesback,therewillbefivepeopleinthisroomwithpower.ThatisKarla,theoneyoucallinteresting.Iseebyyourexpression,myyoungfriend,youdonotunderstandwhatIamsaying.Letmeputitthisway:Karlaisreasonablygoodatbeingafriend,butsheisstupendouslygoodatbeinganenemy.Whenyoujudgethepowerthatisinaperson,youmustjudgetheircapacitiesasbothfriendandasenemy.Andthereisno-oneinthiscitythatmakesaworseormoredangerousenemythanKarla.”
Hestaredintomyeyes,lookingforsomething,movingfromoneeyetotheotherandbackagain.
“YouknowthekindofpowerI’mtalkingabout,don’tyou?Realpower.Thepowertomakemenshinelikethestars,orcrushthemtodust.Thepowerofsecrets.Terrible,terriblesecrets.Thepowertolivewithoutremorseorregret.Istheresomethinginyourlife,Lin,thatyouregret?Isthereanythingyouhavedone,thatyouregretit?”
“Yes,IguessI-”
“Ofcourseyoudo!AndsodoI,regret…thingsIhavedone…andnotdone.ButnotKarla.Andthatiswhysheisliketheothers,thefewothersinthisroom,whohaverealpower.Shehasaheartliketheirs,andyouandIdonot.Ah,forgiveme,Iamalmostdrunk,andIseethatmyItaliansareleaving.Ajaywillnotwaitformuchlonger.Imustgo,now,andcollectmylittlecommission,beforeIcanallowmyselftobecompletelydrunk.”
Hesatbackinhischair,andthenpushedhimselftohisfeetbyleaningheavilyonthetablewithbothofhissoft,whitehands.
Withoutanotherwordorlookheleft,andIwatchedhimwalktowardthekitchen,threadinghiswaythroughthetableswiththerolling,spongystepofthepractiseddrinker.Hissportscoatwascreasedandwrinkledattheback,wherehe’dbeenleaningagainstthechair,andtheseatofhistrousershunginbaggyfolds.BeforeIknewhimwellenough,beforeIrealisedhowmuchitmeantthathe’dlivedbycrimeandpassionforeightyearsinBombaywithoutmakingasingleenemyandwithoutborrowingasingledollar,ItendedtodismissDidieraslittlemorethananamusingbuthopelessdrunkard.Itwasaneasymistaketomake,andonethathehimselfencouraged.
Thefirstruleofblackbusinesseverywhereis:neverletanyoneknowwhatyou’rethinking.Didier’scorollarytotherulewas:alwaysknowwhattheotherthinksofyou.Theshabbyclothes,thematted,curlyhair,pressedflatinplaceswhereithadrestedonthepillowthenightbefore,evenhisfondnessforalcohol,exaggeratedintowhatseemedtobeadebilitatingaddiction-theywereallexpressionsofanimagehecultivated,andwereascarefullynuancedasaprofessionalactor’s.Hemadepeoplethinkthathewasharmlessandhelpless,becausethatwasthepreciseoppositeofthetruth.
IhadlittletimetothinkaboutDidierandthepuzzlingremarkshe’dmade,however,becauseKarlasoonreturned,andwelefttherestaurantalmostatonce.Wetookthelongwaytohersmallhouse,walkingbesidetheseawallthatrunsfromtheGatewayofIndiatotheRadioClubHotel.Thelong,widestreetwasempty.
Onourright,behindarowofplanetrees,werehotelsandapartmentbuildings.Afewlights,hereandthere,showedwindowgraphsofthelivesbeinglivedinthoserooms:asculpturedisplayedononewall,ashelfofbooksonanother,aposterofsomeIndiandeity,framedinwood,surroundedbyflowersandsmokystreamersofincenseand,justvisibleinthecornerofastreet-levelwindow,twoslenderhandspressedtogetherinprayer.
Onourleftwasavastsegmentoftheworld’slargestharbour,thedarkwaterstarredbythemooragelightsofahundredshipsatanchor.Beyondthem,thehorizonquiveredwithfiresflungfromthetowersofoffshorerefineries.Therewasnomoon.Itwasnearlymidnight,buttheairwasstillaswarmasithadbeenintheearlyafternoon.HightideontheArabianSeabroughtoccasionalspraysoverthewaist-highstonewall:miststhatswirled,ontheSimoom,allthewayfromthecoastofAfrica.
Wewalkedslowly.Ilookedupoftenatthesky,soheavywithstarsthattheblacknetofnightwasbulging,overflowingwithitsglitteringhaul.Imprisonmentmeantyearswithoutasunrise,asunset,oranightsky,lockedinacellforsixteenhourseachday,fromearlyafternoontolatemorning.Imprisonmentmeantthattheytookawaythesunandthemoonandthestars.Prisonwasn’thell,buttherewasnoheaveninit,either.Initsownway,thatwasjustasbad.
“Youcantakethisgood-listenerbusinessalittletoofar,youknow.”
“What?Oh,sorry.Iwasthinking.”Iapologised,andshookmyselfintothemoment.“Hey,beforeIforget,here’sthatmoneyUllagaveme.”
Sheacceptedtherollofnotesfrommeandshoveditintoherhandbagwithoutlookingatit.
“It’sstrange,youknow.UllawentwithModenatobreakawayfromsomeoneelsewhowascontrollingherlikeaslave.Nowshe’sModena’sslave,inaway.Butsheloveshim,andthatmakesherashamedthatshehastolietohim,tokeepalittlemoneyforherself.”
“Somepeopleneedthemaster-slavething.”
“Notjustsomepeople,”sheresponded,withsuddenanddisconcertingbitterness.“WhenyouweretalkingtoDidieraboutfreedom,whenheaskedyouthefreedomtodowhat?-yousaid,thefreedomtosayno.It’sfunny,butIwasthinkingit’smoreimportanttohavethefreedomtosayyes.”
“SpeakingofDidier,”Isaidlightly,tryingtochangethesubjectandliftherspirits,“Ihadalongtalkwithhimtonight,whileIwaswaitingforyou.”“IthinkDidierwould’vedonemostofthetalking,”sheguessed.
“Well,yes,hedid,butitwasinteresting.Ienjoyedit.It’sthefirsttimewe’veevertalkedlikethat.”
“Whatdidhetellyou?”
“Tellme?”Thephrasestruckmeaspeculiar;itcarriedthehintthattherewerethingsheshouldn’ttell.“HewasgivingmesomebackgroundonsomeofthepeopleatLeopold’s.TheAfghans,andtheIranians,andtheShivSainiks-orwhateverthey’recalled-andthelocalmafiadons.”
Shegaveawrylittlesmile.
“Iwouldn’ttaketoomuchnoticeofwhatDidiersays.Hecanbeverysuperficial,especiallywhenhe’sbeingserious.He’sthekindofguywhogetsrightdowntotheskinofthings,ifyouknowwhatImean.Itoldhimoncehe’ssoshallowthatthebesthecanmanageisasingleentendre.Thefunnythingis,helikedit.I’llsaythisforDidier,youcan’tinsulthim.”
“Ithoughtyoutwowerefriends,”Iremarked,decidingnottorepeatwhatDidierhadsaidabouther.
“Friends…well,sometimes,I’mnotreallysurewhatfriendshipis.We’veknowneachotherforyears.Weusedtolivetogetheronce-didhetellyou?”
“No,hedidn’t.”
“Yeah.Forayear,whenIfirstcametoBombay.Wesharedacrazy,fracturedlittleapartmentintheFortarea.Thebuildingwascrumblingaroundus.Everymorningweusedtowakewithplasteronourfacesfromthepregnantceiling,andtherewerealwaysnewchunksofstoneandwoodandotherstuffinthehallway.Thewholebuildingcollapsedinthemonsoonacoupleofyearsago,andafewpeoplewerekilled.Iwalkthatwaysometimes,andlookupattheholeintheskywheremybedroomusedtobe.Isupposeyoucouldsaythatwe’reclose,DidierandI.Butfriends?Friendshipissomethingthatgetshardertounderstand,everydamnyearofmylife.Friendshipislikeakindofalgebratestthatnobodypasses.Inmyworstmoods,Ithinkthebestyoucansayisthatafriendisanyoneyoudon’tdespise.”
Hertonewasserious,butIallowedmyselfagentlelaugh.
“That’sabitstrong,Ithink.”
Shelookedatme,frowninghard,butthenshe,too,laughed.
“Maybeitis.I’mtired.Ihaven’thadenoughsleepforthelastfewnights.Idon’tmeantobehardonDidier.It’sjustthathecanbeveryannoyingsometimes,youknow?Didhesayanythingaboutme?”
“He…hesaidthathethinksyou’rebeautiful.”
“Hesaidthat?”
“Yes.Hewastalkingaboutbeautyinwhitepeopleandblackpeople,andhesaidKarlaisbeautiful.”
Sheraisedhereyebrows,inmildandpleasedsurprise.
“Well,I’lltakethatasasignificantcompliment,evenifheisanoutrageousliar.”
“IlikeDidier.”
“Why?”sheaskedquickly.
“Oh,Idon’tknow.It’shisprofessionalism,Ithink.Ilikepeoplewhoareexpertatwhattheydo.Andthere’sasadnessinhimthat…kindofmakessensetome.HeremindsmeofafewguysIknow.Friends.”
“Atleasthemakesnosecretofhisdecadence,”shedeclared,andIwassuddenlyremindedofsomethingDidierhadtoldmeaboutKarla,andthepowerofsecrets.“Perhapsthat’swhatwereallyhaveincommon,DidierandI-webothhatehypocrites.Hypocrisyisjustanotherkindofcruelty.AndDidier’snotcruel.He’swild,buthe’snotcruel.He’sbeenquiet,inthelastwhile,butthereweretimeswhenhispassionateaffairswerethescandalofthecity,oratleastoftheforeignerswholivehere.Ajealouslover,ayoungMoroccanboy,chasedhimdowntheCausewaywithaswordonenight.Theywerebothstarknaked-quiteashockingeventinBombay,andinthecaseofDidier,somethingofaspectacle,Icanreport.HeranintotheColabapolicestation,andtheyrescuedhim.TheyareveryconservativeaboutsuchthingsinIndia,butDidierhasonerule-heneverhasanysex-involvementwithIndians-andIthinktheyrespectthat.AlotofforeignerscomeherejustforthesexwithveryyoungIndianboys.Didierdespisesthem,andherestrictshimselftoaffairswithforeigners.Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifthat’swhyhetoldyousomuchofotherpeople’sbusinesstonight.Hewastryingtoseduceyou,perhaps,byimpressingyouwithhisknowledgeofdarkbusinessanddarkpeople.Oh,hello!Katzeli!Hey,wheredid_youcomefrom?”
We’dcomeuponacatthatwassquattingontheseawalltoeatfromaparcelsomeonehaddiscardedthere.Thethin,greyanimalhunkereddownandscowled,growlingandwhiningatthesametime,butitallowedKarlatostrokeitsbackasitlowereditsheadtothefoodoncemore.Itwasawizenedandscabrousspecimenwithoneearchewedtotheshapeofarosebud,andbarepatchesonitssidesandbackwhereunhealedsoreswereexposed.Ifounditamazingthatsuchaferal,emaciatedcreatureshouldpermititselftobepettedbyastranger,andthatKarlawouldwanttodosuchathing.Evenmoreastounding,itseemedtomethen,wasthatthecathadsuchakeenappetiteforvegetablesandrice,cookedinasauceofwhole,veryhotchillies.
“Oh,lookathim,”shecooed.“Isn’thebeautiful?”
“Well…”
“Don’tyouadmirehiscourage,hisdeterminationtosurvive?”
“I’mafraidIdon’tlikecatsverymuch.Idon’tminddogs,butcats…”
“Butyoumustlovecats!Inaperfectworld,allthepeoplewouldbelikecatsare,attwoo’clockintheafternoon.”
Ilaughed.
“Didanyoneevertellyouyou’vegotaverypeculiarwayofputtingthings?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”sheasked,turningtomequickly.
EveninthestreetlightIcouldseethatherfacewasflushed,almostangry.Ididn’tknowthenthattheEnglishlanguagewasagentleobsessionwithher:thatshestudiedandwroteandworkedhardtocomposethosecleverfragmentsofherconversation.
“Justthatyouhaveauniquewayofexpressingyourself.Don’tgetmewrong,Ilikeit.Ilikeitverymuch.It’slike…well…takeyesterday,forinstance,whenwewerealltalkingabouttruth.CapitalTTruth.Absolutetruth.Ultimatetruth.And_is_thereanytruth,isanythingtrue?Everybodyhadsomethingtosayaboutit-Didier,Ulla,Maurizio,evenModena.Thenyousaid,Thetruthisabullyweallpretendtolike.Iwasknockedoutbyit.Didyoureadthatinabook,orhearitinaplay,oramovie?”
“No.Imadeitupmyself.”
“Well,that’swhatImean.Idon’tthinkIcouldrepeatanythingthattheotherssaid,andbesureofgettingitexactlyright.
Butthatlineofyours-I’llneverforgetit.”
“Doyouagreewithit?”
“What-thatthetruthisabullyweallpretendtolike?”
“Yes.”
“No,Idon’t,notatall.ButIlovetheidea,andthewayyouputit.”
Herhalf-smileheldmystare.Weweresilentforafewmoments,andjustasshebegantolookawayIspokeagaintoholdherattention.“WhydoyoulikeBiarritz?”
“What?”
“Theotherday,thedaybeforeyesterday,yousaidthatBiarritzisoneofyourfavouriteplaces.I’veneverbeenthere,soIdon’tknow,onewayortheother.ButI’dliketoknowwhyyoulikeitsomuch.”
Shesmiled,wrinklinghernoseinaquizzicalexpressionthatmight’vebeenscornfulorpleased.
“Yourememberthat?Then,IguessIbettertellyou.Biarritz…howtoexplainit…Ithinkit’stheocean.TheAtlantic.IloveBiarritzinthewintertime,whenthetouristsaregone,andtheseaissofrighteningthatitturnspeopletostone.Youseethemstandingonthedesertedbeaches,andstaringatthesea-statues,scatteredalongthebeachbetweenthecliffs,frozenstiffbytheterrortheyfeelwhentheylookattheocean.It’snotlikeotheroceans-notlikethewarmPacificortheIndian.
TheAtlanticthere,inwinter,isreallyunforgiving,andruthlesslycruel.Youcanfeelitcallingtoyou.Youknowitwantstodragyououtandpullyouunder.It’ssobeautiful,IjustburstintotearsthefirsttimeIreallylookedatit.AndIwantedtogotoit.Iwantedtoletmyselfgooutandunderthebig,angrywaves.It’sthescariestthing.ButthepeopleinBiarritz,they’rethemosttolerantandeasy-goingpeopleinEurope,Ithink.Nothingfreaksthemout.Nothingistooover-the-top.It’skindofweird-inmostholidayplaces,thepeopleareangryandtheseaiscalm.InBiarritz,it’stheotherwayaround.”
“Doyouthinkyou’llgobackthereoneday-tostay,Imean?”
“No,”shesaidquickly.“IfIeverleavehere,forgood,it’llmeangoingbacktotheStates.Igrewupthere,aftermyparentsdied.AndI’dliketogoback,someday.IthinkIloveitthere,mostofall.There’ssomethingsoconfidentandopen-heartedand…andbraveaboutAmerica,andtheAmericanpeople.Idon’tfeelAmerican-atleast,Idon’tthinkIdo-butI’mcomfortablewiththem,ifyouknowwhatImean,morethanIamwithanyotherpeople,anywhere.”
“Tellmeabouttheothers,”Iasked,wantingtokeephertalking.
“Theothers?”sheasked,frowningsuddenly.
“ThecrewatLeopold’s.Didierandtheothers.TellmeaboutLetitia,tostartwith.Howdoyouknowher?”
Sherelaxed,andlethereyesroamtheshadowsonthefarsideofthestreet.Stillthinking,stillconsidering,sheliftedhergazetothenightsky.Theblue-whitelightfromastreetlampmeltedtoliquidonherlipsandinthespheresofherlargeeyes.
“LettielivedinGoaforawhile,”shebegan,affectionplayinginhervoice.“ShecametoIndiafortheusualmix-partiesandspiritualhighs.Shefoundtheparties,andsheenjoyedthem,Ithink.Lettielovesaparty.Butsheneverhadmuchluckwiththespiritualsideofthings.ShewentbacktoLondon-twiceinthesameyear-butthenshecamebacktoIndiaforonelasttryatthesoulthing.She’sonasoulmission.Shetalkstough,butshe’saveryspiritualgirl.Ithinkshe’sthemostspiritualofallofus,really.”
“Howdoesshelive?Idon’tmeantopry-it’swhatIwassayingbefore,Ijustwanttolearnhowpeoplemakealivinghere.Howforeignersgetby,Imean.”
“She’sanexpertwithgems-gemstonesandjewels.Sheworksonacommissionbasisforsomeoftheforeignbuyers.ItwasDidierwhogotherthejob.HehascontactseverywhereinBombay.”
“Didier?”Ismiled,genuinelysurprised.“Ithoughtthattheyhatedeachother-well,nothateexactly.Ithoughttheycouldn’tstandeachother.”
“Oh,theyannoyoneanother,sure.Butthere’sarealfriendshipthere.Ifanythingbadhappenedtooneofthem,theotherwouldbedevastated.”
“HowaboutMaurizio?”Iasked,tryingtokeepmytoneeven.ThetallItalianwastoohandsome,tooconfident,andIenviedhimforwhatIsawashisdeeperknowledgeofKarla,andhisfriendshipwithher.“What’shisstory?”
“Hisstory?Idon’tknowwhathisstoryis,”shereplied,frowningagain.“Hisparentsdied,leavinghimalotofmoney.Hespentit,andIthinkhedevelopedsomethingofatalentforspendingmoney.”
“Otherpeople’smoney?”Iasked.Imight’veseemedtooeagerforthattobetrue,becausesheansweredmewithaquestion.
“Doyouknowthestoryofthescorpionandthefrog?Youknow,thefrogagreestocarrythescorpionacrosstheriver,becausethescorpionpromisesnottostinghim?”
“Yeah.Andthenthescorpionstingsthefrog,halfwayacrosstheriver.Thedrowningfrogaskshimwhyhedidit,whenthey’llbothdrown,andthescorpionsaysthathe’sascorpion,andit’shisnaturetosting.”
“Yes,”shesighed,noddingslowlyuntilthefrownleftherbrow.
“That’sMaurizio.Andifyouknowthat,he’snotaproblem,becauseyoujustdon’toffertocarryhimacrosstheriver.DoyouknowwhatImean?”
I’dbeeninprison.Iknewexactlywhatshemeant.Inodded,andaskedheraboutUllaandModena.
“IlikeUlla,”sheansweredquickly,turningthathalf-smileonmeagain.“She’scrazyandunreliable,butIhaveafeelingforher.Shewasarichgirl,inGermany,andsheplayedwithheroinuntilshegotahabit.Herfamilycutheroff,soshecametoIndia-shewaswithabadguy,aGermanguy,ajunkielikeher,whoputhertoworkinaverytoughplace.Ahorribleplace.Shelovedtheguy.Shediditforhim.Shewould’vedoneanythingforhim.Somewomenarelikethat.Somelovesarelikethat.Mostlovesarelikethat,fromwhatIcansee.Yourheartstartstofeellikeanovercrowdedlifeboat.Youthrowyourprideouttokeepitafloat,andyourself-respectandyourindependence.
Afterawhileyoustartthrowingpeopleout-yourfriends,everyoneyouusedtoknow.Andit’sstillnotenough.Thelifeboatisstillsinking,andyouknowit’sgoingtotakeyoudownwithit.I’veseenthathappentoalotofgirlshere.Ithinkthat’swhyI’msickoflove.”
Icouldn’ttellifshewastalkingaboutherself,orpointingthewordsatme.Eitherway,theyweresharp,andIdidn’twanttohearthem.
“AndhowaboutKavita?Wheredoesshefitin?”
“Kavita’sgreat!She’safreelancer-youknowthat-afreelancewriter.Shewantstobeajournalist,andIthinkshe’llgetthere.Ihopeshegetsthere.She’sbrightandhonestandgutsy.
She’sbeautiful,too.Don’tyouthinkshe’sagorgeousgirl?”
“Sure,”Iagreed,recallingthehoney-colouredeyes,thefullandshapelylips,andthelong,expressivefingers.“She’saprettygirl.Butthey’reallgood-lookingpeople,Ithink.EvenDidier,inhiscrumpled-upway,hasgotatouchoftheLordByronabouthim.Lettie’salovelygirl.Hereyesarealwayslaughing-they’reareal_ice-blue,hereyes,aren’tthey?Ullalookslikeadoll,withthosebigeyesandbiglipsonsucharoundface.
Butit’saprettydoll’sface.Maurizio’shandsome,likeamagazinemodel,andModena’shandsomeinadifferentway,likeabullfighterorsomething.Andyou’re…you’rethemostbeautifulwomanI’veeverseenwithmyowneyes.”
There,I’dsaidit.Andevenintheshockofspeakingthethoughtoutloud,Iwonderedifshe’dunderstood,ifshe’dpiercedmywordsabouttheirbeauty,andhers,tofindthemiserythatinspiredthem:themiserythatanuglymanfeelsineveryconsciousminuteoflove.
Shelaughed-agood,deep,wide-mouthedlaugh-andseizedmyarmimpulsively,pullingmealongthefootpath.Justthen,asifdrawnfromtheshadowsbyherlaughter,therewasaclatteringrattleofnoiseasabeggar,ridingonasmallwoodenplatformwithmetalball-bearingwheels,rolledoffthefootpathontheoppositesideofthestreet.Hepushedhimselfforwardwithhishandsuntilhereachedthecentreofthedesertedroad,wheelingtoastopwithadramaticpirouette.Hispiteouslythinmantis-legswerefoldedandtuckedbeneathhimontheplatform,whichwasapieceofwoodnobiggerthanafoldednewspaper.Heworeaboy’sschooluniformofkhakishortsandapowder-blueshirt.
Althoughhewasamaninhistwenties,theclothesweretoobigforhim.
Karlacalledout,greetinghimbyname,andwestoppedoppositehim.TheyspokeforsometimeinHindi.Istaredacrossthetenmetresthatseparatedus,fascinatedbytheman’shands.Theywerehugehands,aswideacrosstheback,fromknuckletoknuckle,ashisface.InthestreetlightIcouldseethattheywerethicklypaddedonthefingersandpalmslikethepawsofabear.
“Goodnight!”hecalledoutinEnglish,afteraminute.Heliftedonehand,firsttohisforeheadandthentohisheart,inadelicategestureofconsummategallantry.Withanotherswift,show-off’spirouette,hepropelledhimselfforwardalongtheroad,gainingspeedasherolleddownthegentleslopetotheGatewayMonument.
Wewatchedhimoutofsight,andthenKarlapulledatmyarm,leadingmealongthepathoncemore.Iallowedmyselftobeled.
Iallowedmyselftobedrawnbythesoftpleadingofthewaves,andtherouladeofhervoice;bytheblacksky,andthedarkernightofherhair;bythesea-tree-stonesmellofthesleepingstreet,andtheperfumesublimeonherwarmskin.Iallowedmyselftobedrawnintoherlife,andthelifeofthecity.Iwalkedherhome.Isaidgoodnight.AndIwassingingquietlytomyselfasIwentbackalongthesilentbroodofstreetstomyhotel.
____________________
CHAPTERTHREE
“Whatyou’resayingisthatwe’refinallygoingtogetdowntotherealdeal.”
“Realwillbefull,baba,”Prabakerassuredme,“anddealwillbeplentyalso.Nowyouwillseeitthereallycity.Usually,Iamnevertakingthetouriststotheseplaces.Theyarenotlikingit,andIamnotlikingtheirnotliking.Ormaybesometimestheyarelikingittoomuch,intheseplaces,andIamlikingthatevenless,isn’tit?Youmusthaveitagoodheads,tolikethesethings,andyoumustbehavingagoodhearts,tonotlikethemtoomuch.Likeyou,Linbaba.Youaremygoodfriend.Iknewitverywell,onthatfirstday,whenweweredrinkingthewhisky,inyourroom.NowmyBombay,withyourgoodheadsandyourgoodhearts,youwillseeitall.”
WewereridinginataxialongMahatmaGandhiRoadpastFloraFountainandtowardsVictoriaStation.Itwasanhourbeforenoon,andtheswashoftrafficthatcoursedthroughthatstonecanyonwasswollenbylargenumbersofrunnerspushingtiffincarts.Therunnerscollectedlunchesfromhomesandapartments,andplacedthemintincylinderscalledjalpaans,ortiffins.
Theypushedhugetraysofthetiffinsonlongwoodencarts,sixmenandmoretoacart.Throughtheheavymetal-trafficofbuses,trucks,scooters,andcars,theymadedeliveriesatofficesandbusinessesalloverthecity.Nonebutthemenandwomenwhooperatedtheserviceknewexactlyhowitwasdone:howbarelyliteratemenevolvedthebafflinglycomplexsystemofsymbols,colours,andkeynumberstomarkandidentifythecylinders;how,dayafterday,hundredsofthousandsofthoseidenticalcontainerssweptthroughthecityontheirwoodenaxles,oiledwithsweat,andreachedtherightmanorwoman,amongmillions,everytime;andhowallthatwasachievedatacostmeasuredincentsratherthandollars.Magic,thetrickthatconnectstheordinarytotheimpossible,wastheinvisibleriverthatranthrougheverystreetandbeatingheartinBombayinthoseyears,andnothing,fromthepostalservicetothepleadingofbeggars,workedwithoutameasureofit.
“Whatnumberthatbus,Linbaba?Quickly,tellit.”
“Justasecond.”Ihesitated,peeringoutofthehalf-openwindowofthetaxiandtryingtoreadthecurlicuenumbersonthefrontofared,double-deckerbusthathadstoppedoppositeusmomentarily.“It’s,ah,it’saone-zero-four,isn’tit?”
“Veryveryfine!YouhavelearnyourHindinumberssonicely.Nownoproblemforyou,readingnumbersforbus,andtrain,andmenucard,anddrugspurchase,andothergoodthings.Nowtellme,whatisalupalak?”
“Alupalakispotatoandspinach.”
“Good.Andniceeatingalso,youhavenotmention.Ilovetoeatit,alupalak.Whatis_phul_gobhiandbhindi?”
“That’s…ohyeah,cauliflowerand…andokra.”
“Correct.Andalsogoodeating,againyouarenotmention.Whatisbainganmasala?”
“That’s,ah,spicedeggplant.”
“Againright!Whatisit,you’renotenjoyingeatingbaingan?”
“Yes,yes,allright!Bainganisgoodeating,too!”
“Idon’tlikeitbaingansomuch,”hesneered,wrinklinguphisshortnose.“Tellme,whatamIcallingchehra,munh,anddill?”
“Okay…don’ttellme…face,mouth,andheart.Isthatright?”
“Veryright,noproblem.Ihavebeenwatchingit,hownicelyyoueatupyourfoodswiththehand,likeagoodIndianstyle.Andhowyoulearntoaskforthethings-howmuchthis,howmuchthat,givemetwocupsoftea,Iwantmorehashish-speakingonlyHinditothepeople.Ihaveseenthisall.Youaremybeststudent,Linbaba.AndIamyourbestteacheralso,isn’tit?”
“Itis,Prabu,”Ilaughed.“Hey!Watchout!”
Myshoutalertedthetaxidriver,whoswervedjustintimetoavoidanox-cartthatwasattemptingtomakeaturninfrontofus.Thetaxidriver-aburly,dark-skinnedmanwithabristlingmoustache-seemedtobeoutragedatmyimpertinenceinsavingourlives.Whenwefirsttookthetaxihe’dadjustedhismirroruntilhesawnothinginitbutmyface.Afterthenearmissheglaredatme,snarlingagrowlofinsultsinHindi.Hedrovethecablikeagetawaycar,slewingleftandrighttoovertakeslowervehicles.Therewasanangry,bullyingpugnacityinhisattitudetoeveryoneelseontheroad.Herushedtowithincentimetresofeveryslowercarinhispath,soundinghishorn,thenallbutnudgingitoutoftheway.Iftheslowercarmovedalittletotheleft,inordertolethimpass,ourdriverdrewbesideit,pacingitforatimeandshoutinginsults.Whenhespiedanotherslowvehicleahead,hespedforwardtorepeattheprocedure.Fromtimetotimeheopenedhisdoorandleanedoutovertheroadtospitpaanjuice,takinghiseyesoffthetrafficaheadforlongsecondsaswehurtledalongintherattlingcab.
“Thisguy’sanut-case!”ImutteredtoPrabaker.
“Drivingisnotsogood,”Prabakerreplied,bracinghimselfwithbotharmsagainstthebackofthedriver’sseat.“ButIhavetosay,thespittingandinsultingisafirst-classjob.”
“ForChrist’ssake,tellhimtostop!”Ishoutedasthecabacceleratedintoasqualloftraffic,lurchingintheswerveleftandright.“He’sgoingtokillus!”
“Bandkaro!”Prabakershouted.Stop!
Headdedapithycurse,forgoodmeasure,butthedriveronlybecamemoreenraged.Withthecarhurtlingalongattopspeed,heturnedhisheadtosnarlatus.Hismouthwaswideopen,andhisteethwerebared.Hiseyeswerehuge,theirblacknessstreakedwithrage.
“Arrey!”Prabakershrieked,pointingpastthedriver.
Itwastoolate.Themanturnedquickly.Hisarmsstiffenedatthewheel,andhehitthebrakeshard.Therewasaskating,slidingsecond…twoseconds…threeseconds.Iheardagutturalgaspofairfromdeepinhisthroat.Itwasasuckingsound,liketheliftingofaflatstonefromthemoistclayontheedgeofariverbed.Thentherewasthewhumpandcrashasweslammedintoacarthathadstoppedinfrontofustomakeaturn.Wewerethrownforwardintothebackofhisseat,andheardtwothumpingexplosionsastwoothercarsrammedintous.
Shatteredglassandchromefragmentsrattledontheroadlikethinmetallicapplauseinthesuddensilencethatfollowedtheimpacts.Myheadhadhitthedoorinthetumblespilloftheaccident.Ifeltbloodflowingfromacutabovemyeye,butIwasotherwiseunhurt.AsIwriggledmyselfupfromthefloor,andontothebackseatoncemore,IfeltPrabaker’shandsonme.“Nothingbrokenyouare,Lin?Youareokay?”
“I’mokay,I’mokay.”
“Youaresure?Everythingnotbroken?”
“Jesus,Prabu,Idon’tcarehowgoodthisguy’sspittingis,”Isaid,laughingnervously,andraggedwithrelief,“hedoesn’tgetatip.Areyouallright?”
“Wemustgetout,Lin!”heanswered,hisvoicerisingtoahystericalwhine.“Out!Outofhere!Now!”
Thedooronhissidewasjammedshut,andhebegantopushatitwithhisshoulder.Hecouldn’tbudgeit.Hereachedacrossmetotrythedooronmyside,butsawatoncethatanothercarwasjammedagainstit,pinningitshut.Oureyesmet,andtherewassuchfearinhim,suchterrorinthewhite-rimmedbulgeofhiseyes,thatIfeltthecoldnessofitdeepinmychest.Heturnedatonce,andthrewhimselfagainatthedooronhisside.
Mymindwasmuddywater,andoneideasplashedupfromit,clearandexclusive:FIRE.Isthatwhathe’safraidof!OnceI’daskedmyselfthequestionIcouldn’tstopthinkingit.IlookedattheterrorthatpulledatPrabaker’sgaspingmouth,andIwassurethetaxiwasgoingtocatchfire.Iknewweweretrappedthere
Therearwindows,inalltheBombaytaxisI’dseen,didn’topenbeyondafewcentimetres.Thedoorswerejammed,andthewindowswouldn’topen,andthetaxiwasgoingtoexplodeinfire,andweweretrapped.Burnedlive…Isthatwhyhe’ssoscared?
Ilookedtothedriver.Hewasslumped,awkwardly,betweenthesteeringwheelandthedoor.Hisbodywasstill,butIheardhimmoaning.Beneaththethinshirt,theabacusridgeofhisspineroseandfellwitheachslowandshallowbreath.
Facesappearedatthewindowsofthecab,andIheardexcitedvoices.Prabakerlookedoutatthem,turningthiswayandthat,hisfacecrampedinanexpressionofterribleanguish.Suddenly,heclamberedovertheseatintothefrontofthecarandwrestledthepassengerdooropen.Turningswiftlyandgrabbingatmyarmswithsurprisingstrength,hetriedtodragmebymainforceovertheseatthatdividedus.
“Thisway,Lin!Getout,now!Hurry!Hurry!”
Iclimbedupandovertheseat.Prabakergotoutofthecar,pushinghiswayintoacrowdofonlookers.Ireachedouttothedriver,tryingtoprisehimfromtheobstructingrimofthesteeringwheel,butPrabaker’shandswereonmeagain,brutallyrough.Thefingernailsofonehandtoreintotheskinofmyback,andtheotherwrenchedatthecollarofmyshirt.
“Don’ttouchhim,Lin!”healmostscreamed.“Don’ttouchhim!
Leavehimandgetout.Getoutnow!”
Hedraggedmefromthecarandthroughthehedgeofbodiespressinginontheaccident.Onafootpathnearby,wesatbeneathafringeofhawthornleavesthatoverhungafenceofwrought-ironspears,andinspectedoneanotherforinjuries.Thecutonmyforehead,abovemyrighteye,wasn’tasseriousasI’dthought.
Thebleedinghadalreadystopped,anditbegantoweepaclear,plasmicfluid.Iwassoreinafewplaces,butitwasnocauseforconcern.Prabakercradledhisarm-thesamearmthathadpulledmefromthecarwithsuchirresistiblepower-anditwasobviousthathewasinpain.Alargeswellinghadalreadyformedneartheelbow.Iknewitwouldleaveanastybruise,butnothingseemedtobebroken
“Lookslikeyouwerewrong,Prabu,”Ichided,smilingasIlitacigaretteforhim.
“Wrong,baba?”
“Gettingusoutofthecarinsuchapanicandall.Youreallyhadmegoing.Ithoughtthedamnthingwasgoingtocatchfire,butitlooksokay.”
“Oh,”herepliedsoftly,staringstraightahead.“YouthinkIwasfrighteningforfire?Notfireinthecar,Lin,butfireinthepeople.Look,now.Seethepublic,howtheyare.”
Westood,stretchingtheachefromshouldersandwhip-lashednecks,andlookedtowardthewreckagesometenmetresaway.Aboutthirtypeoplehadgatheredaroundthefourcrashedvehicles.Afewofthemwerehelpingdriversandpassengersfromthedamagedcars.Theresthuddledtogetheringroups,gesturingwildlyandshouting.Morepeoplestreamedtowardthesitefromeverydirection.Driversofothercarsthathadbeenblockedfromtravellingfurther,lefttheirvehiclesandjoinedthecrowd.Thethirtypeoplebecamefifty,eighty,thenahundredaswewatched.
Onemanwasthecentreofattention.Itwashiscarthathadbeentryingtoturnright,hiscarwe’dsmashedintowiththebrakesonfulllock.Hestoodbesidethetaxi,bellowingwithrage.Hewasaround-shoulderedman,inhismiddleforties,wearingagrey,cottonsafarisuitthathadbeentailoredtoaccommodatetheextravagantboastofhislargepaunch.Histhinninghairwasawry.Thebreastpocketofhissuithadbeentorn,therewasaripinhistrousers,andhe’dlostonesandal.Thatdishevelmentcombinedwithhistheatricalgesturesandpersistentshoutingtopresentaspectaclethatseemedtobemoreenthralling,forthecrowdofonlookers,thanthewreckageofthecars.Hishandhadbeencutfromthepalmtothewrist.Asthestaringcrowdgrewmoresilent,subduedbythedrama,hesmearedbloodfromthewoundonhisfaceandbeattherednessintothegreyofhissuit,shoutingallthewhile.
Justthen,somemencarriedawomanintothelittleclearspacearoundtheman,andplacedheronapieceofcloththatwasstretchedoutonthegroundforher.Theyshoutedinstructionstothecrowd,andinmomentsawoodencartappeared,pushedbybare-chestedmenwearingonlysingletsandshortlungis.Thewomanwasliftedontothecart,herredsarigatheredupinfoldsandwrappedaboutherlegs.Shemayhavebeentheman’swife-Icouldn’tbesure-buthisragesuddenlygrewhysterical.Heseizedherroughlybytheshouldersandshookher.Hepulledatherhair.Heappealedtothecrowdwithenormous,histrionicgestures,flinginghisarmswideandthenstrikinghisownblood-streakedface.Theywerethegesturesofpantomime,theexaggeratedsimulationsofsilentfilms,andIcouldn’thelpthinkingtheywereabsurdandfunny.Buttheinjuriespeoplehadsustainedwerereal,asweretherumblingthreatsthatsurgedthroughtheever-increasingcrowd.
Asthesemi-consciouswomanwastrundledawayonthehumblecart,themanhurledhimselfatthedoorofthetaxi,wrenchingitopen.Thecrowdreactedasone.Theydraggedthedazedandinjuredtaxidriverfromhiscabinaninstantandflunghimonthebonnetofthecar.Heraisedhisarmsinfeeblepleading,butadozen,twenty,fiftyhandspunchedandtoreathim.Blowsdrummedonhisface,chest,stomach,andgroin.Fingernailsscratchedandripped,tearinghismouthopenononesidealmosttotheear,andshreddinghisshirttorags.
Ithappenedinseconds.Itoldmyself,asIwatchedthebeating,thatitwasalltoofast,thatIwasdazed,andtherewasnotimetoreact.Whatwecallcowardiceisoftenjustanothernameforbeingtakenbysurprise,andcourageisseldomanybetterthansimplybeingwellprepared.AndImight’vedonemore,Imight’vedonesomething,anything,ifithadhappenedinAustralia.It’snotyourcountry,Itoldmyself,asIwatchedthebeating.It’snotyourculture…
Buttherewasanotherthought,darkandsecretthen,andalltoocleartomenow:themanwasanidiot,aninsultingandbelligerentidiot,whoserecklessstupidityhadriskedPrabaker’slifeandmine.Asplinterofspitehadpiercedmyheartwhenthecrowdturnedonhim,andatleastsomesmallparticleoftheirrevenge-abloworashoutorashove-wasmyown.Helpless,craven,ashamed,Ididnothing.
“We’vegottodosomething…”Isaidlamely.
“Enoughpeoplearedoing,baba,”Prabakerreplied.
“No,Imean,we’vegotto…can’twehelphim,somehow?”
“Forthisfellowisnohelping,”hesighed.“Nowyouseeit,Lin.
AccidentsisverybadbusinessinBombay.Betteryougetoutofthatcar,ortaxi,orwhatisityouarein,very,veryquickly.
Thepublicarenothavingpatienceforsuchbusiness.Seenow,itistoolateforthatfellow.”
Thebeatingwasswift,butsavage.Bloodstreamedfrommanycutsontheman’sfaceandnakedtorso.Atasignal,perceived,somehow,throughthehowlandshriekofthecrowd,themanwasliftedupandcarriedoffatheadheight.Hislegswerepressedtogetherandstretchedout,heldrigidbyadozenhands.Hisarmsweresplayedoutatrightanglestohisbodyandheldfast.Hisheadlolledandfellback,thesoft,wetflapofskinhangingfromcheektojaw.Hiseyeswereopen,conscious,staringbackwardandupsidedown:blackeyes,scuddedwithfearandimbecilehope.Trafficonthefarsideoftheroadpartedtoletthepeoplepass,andthemanslowlydisappeared,crucifiedonthehandsandshouldersofthecrowd.
“Comeon,Lin.Let’sgo.Youareokay?”
“I’mallright,”Imumbled,forcingmyselftoshuffleintostepbesidehim.Myself-assurancehadmeltedthroughmuscleandbonetosettleinmyknees.Eachstepwasleadenandwilled.Itwasn’ttheviolencethathadshakenme.I’dseenworse,andwithfarlessprovocation,inprison.Itwas,instead,thetoo-suddencollapseofmystiltedcomplacencies.TheweeksofthecityI’dthoughtIwasbeginningtoknow-theBombayoftemples,bazaars,restaurants,andnewfriends-hadcinderedinthefiresofthatpublicrage.
“What…whataretheygoingtodowithhim?”
“Theywilltakehimtopolice,Ithinkso.BehindCrawfordMarketisonepolicestation,forthisarea.Maybehewillhavetheluck–maybealive,hewillreachthere.Maybenot.HehasaveryquicklyKarma,thisfellow.”
“You’veseenthisbefore?”
“Oh,manytimes,Linbaba.Sometimes,IdriveitmycousinShantu’staxi.Ihaveseensomanyangrypublics.ThatiswhyIwasgettingsoafraidforyou,andformygoodselfalso.”
“Whydoesithappenlikethat?Whydidtheygetsocrazyaboutit?”
“Thatisnobodyknows,Lin,”Prabakershrugged,quickeninghispacealittle.
“Waitaminute,”Ipaused,slowinghimwithahandtohisshoulder.“Wherearewegoing?”
“Stillgoingforthetour,isn’tit?”
“Ithought…maybe…youwanttocallitoff,fortoday.”
“Callingoffwhy?Wehaveitarealandfulldealtosee,Linbaba.So,let’sgo,na?”
“Butwhataboutyourarm?Don’tyouwanttogetitseento?”
“Noproblemthisarms,Lin.Forlastofthetouring,wewillhavesomewhiskydrinksinaterribleplaceIknow.Thatwillbeagoodmedicine.Socomeon,let’sgonow,baba.”
“Well,okay,ifyousayso.Butweweregoingtheotherway,weren’twe?”
“Stillgoingtheotherway,baba,”Prabakerrepliedwithsomeurgency.“Butfirstgoingthiswayonly!Overthereisatelephone,atthestation.Imustcallmycousin,workingnowatSunshinerestaurant,asthedishes-washingboy.Heiswantingataxi-drivingjob,forhisbrother,Suresh,andImustgiveitthenumberandboss-nameofthedriver,nowgonewiththepeople.
Thatfellow’sbosswillbeneedinganewdrivernow,andwemusthurryforsuchagoodchance,isn’tit?”
Prabakermadethatcall.Secondslater,hecontinuedhistourofthedarksideofthecitywithoutaheartbeatofhesitation,inanothertaxi,asifnothinghadhappened.Nordidheeverraisethematterwithmeagain.WhenIoccasionallyspokeofit,herespondedwithashrug,orsomeblandcommentaboutourgoodluckinavoidingseriousinjury.Forhim,theincidentwaslikeabrawlinanightclub,oraclashofrivalsupportersatafootballmatch-commonplaceandunremarkable,unlessyouhappentobeinthecentreofit.
Butformethatsudden,savage,bewilderingriot,thesightofthattaxi-driverfloatingawayonaripplingwaveofhands,shoulders,andheadswasaturningpoint.Anewunderstandingemergedfromit.IsuddenlyrealisedthatifIwantedtostaythere,inBombay,thecityI’dalreadyfalleninlovewith,Ihadtochange.Ihadtogetinvolved.Thecitywouldn’tletmebeawatcher,aloofandapart.IfIwantedtostay,Ihadtoexpectthatshewoulddragmeintotheriverofherrapture,andherrage.Soonerorlater,Iknew,Iwouldhavetostepoffthepavementandintothebloodycrowd,andputmybodyontheline.
Andwiththeseedofthatresolve,borninthatconvulsionandportent,Prabaker’sdarkcircuitofthecitybegan.Whenweresumedourtour,hetookmetoaslavemarketnotfarfromDongri,aninnersuburbfamousforitsmosques,bazaars,andrestaurantsspecialisinginMughlaidishes.Themainroadbecamestreetsandthestreetsbecamelanesand,whenthoseprovedtoonarrowforthetaxitonegotiate,weleftthevehicleandwalkedtogetherinthesinuousbusynessofthecrowds.ThefurtherwetravelledintotheCatilinelanes,themorewelostoftheday,theyear,theveryageinwhichwelived.Asautomobilesandthenscootersdisappeared,theairbecameclearer,sharper,withthescentsofspicesandperfumesundulledbythedieselandpetrolfumesprevalentelsewhere.Trafficnoisefaded,ceased,andwasreplacedbystreetsound-aclassofchildrenrecitingversesfromtheKoraninalittlecourtyard;thewhirrandscrapeofstoneonstone,aswomengroundspicesindoorways;andthewhiningoptimismofcriesfromknifesharpeners,mattress-fluffers,stoverepairers,andotherhawkers.Theywerepeoplesounds,everywhere,playedwithvoiceandhand.
Atoneturninthepuzzlealleywayswepassedalongmetalrackwherebicycleswereparked.Fromthenon,eventhosesimplemachinesvanished.Goodsweretransportedbybearerswithenormousbundlesontheirheads.Oneburdenusuallycarriedbyall,thethuddingpressureoftheBombaysun,wasliftedfromus:thelanesweredark,cool,shadowless.Althoughonlythreeandatmostfourstoreystall,thebuildingsleanedinuponthewindingpathways,andtheskywasreducedtoathinbrushstrokeofpaleblue.
Thebuildingsthemselveswereancientanddilapidated.Stonefacades,whichhadoncebeensplendidandimpressive,werecrumbling,grimed,andpatchedwithhaphazardnecessity.Hereandthere,smallbalconiesjuttedouttomeetoneanotheroverhead,soclosethatneighbourscouldreachacrossandpassthingswithanout-stretchedhand.Glimpsesinsidethehousesshowedunpaintedwallsandsaggingstaircases.
Manyground-floorwindowswereheldopentorevealmakeshiftshopsforthesaleofsweets,cigarettes,groceries,vegetables,andutensils.Itwasclearthattheplumbingwasrudimentary,whereitwasconnectedatall.Wepassedseveralplaceswherewomengatheredwithmetalorclaypotstocollectwaterfromasingle,outsidetap.Andskeinedoverallthebuildingslikemetalcobwebswerecomplicatedtraceriesofelectricalconduitsandwires,asifeventhatsymbolandsourceofthemodernageanditspowerwasnomorethanafragile,temporarynetthatmightbesweptawaybyaroughgesture.
Justasthecontractedlanesseemed,witheverytwistandturn,tobelongtoanotherage,sotoodidtheappearanceofthepeoplechangeaswemoveddeeperintothemaze.Isawlessandlessofthewestern-stylecottonshirtsandtrousers,socommoneverywhereelseinthecity,untilfinallythosefashionsdisappearedfromallbuttheyoungestchildren.Instead,themenworetraditionalgarmentsofcolourfuldiversity.Therewerelongsilkshirtsthatdescendedtothekneeandwerefastenedwithpearlbuttons,fromnecktowaist;kaftanrobesinplaincoloursorstripes;hoodedcloaksthatresembledthegarbofmonks;andanendlessvarietyofskullcaps,inwhiteorbeadedcolours,andturbansinyellow,red,andelectricblue.Thewomenweremoreconspicuouslybejewelled,despitetheindigenceofthequarter,andwhatthosejewelslackedinmoney’sworthwasfoundintheextravaganceoftheirdesign.Nolessprominentwerecastemarktattoosonsomeforeheads,cheeks,hands,andwrists.Andeverybarefemininefootwasgracedbyankletsofsilverbellsandcoiledbrasstoe-rings.
Itwasasifallofthosehundredsofpeoplewerecostumedforhome,forthemselves,notforthepublicpromenades.Itwasasiftheyweresafe,there,toclothethemselvesintraditionanddisplay.Andthestreetswereclean.Thebuildingswerecrackedandsmeared,theconstrictedpassagewayswerecrowdedwithgoats,chickens,dogs,andpeople,andeachthinfaceshowedtheshadeandhollowsofpenury,butthestreetsandthepeoplewerestainlessly,scrupulouslyclean.
Weturnedthenintomoreancientalleyways,sonarrowthattwopersonspassedoneanotheronlywithdifficulty.Peoplesteppedintodoorways,waitingforustowalkpastbeforetheymovedon.
Thepassageshadbeencoveredwithfalseceilingsandstretchedawnings,andinthedarknessitwasn’tpossibletoseemorethanafewmetresinfrontorbehind.IkeptmyeyesonPrabaker,fearfulthatIwouldn’tfindmywayoutalone.Thelittleguideturnedoften,drawingmyattentiontoaloosestoneinthepathahead,orastep,orsomeobstructionoverhead.Concentratingonthoseperils,Ilostmyorientation.Mymentalmapofthecityturned,blurred,faded,andIcouldn’tguessatthedirectionofthesea,orthemajorlandmarks-FloraFountain,VT.station,CrawfordMarket-we’dpassedonourwaytothequarter.Ifeltmyselftobesodeepintheflowandrefluxofthosenarrowlanes,sosmotheredbytheintimacyofopendoorsandperfumedbodies,thatitseemedIwaswalkinginsidethebuildings,insidetheveryhomes,ratherthanbetweenthem.
Wecameuponastallwhereamaninasweat-stainedcottonveststirredbatteredfoodsfryinginadishofbubblingoil.Theblueflamesofhiskerosenestove,eerieandclaustral,providedtheonlylight.Emotionhauntedhisface.Itwasanguish,somekindofanguish,andthedull,stoicangerthathangsintheeyesofrepetitive,ill-paidwork.Prabakermovedpasthimandintothedarknessbeyond.AsIapproachedthemanheturnedtofaceme,andhiseyesmetmine.Foramoment,thefull-forceofhisblue-litangerwasdirectedatme.
Longyearsafterthatday,theAfghanguerrillasIcametoknowasfriends,onamountainnearthesiegeofKandahar,talkedforhoursaboutIndianfilmsandtheirfavouriteBollywoodmoviestars.Indianactorsarethegreatestintheworld,oneofthemsaidonce,becauseIndianpeopleknowhowtoshoutwiththeireyes.Thatback-streetfried-foodscookstaredatme,withshoutingeyes,andstoppedmeassurelyasifhe’dpushedahandintomychest.Icouldn’tmove.Inmyowneyes,therewerewords–I’msorry,I’msorrythatyouhavetodothiswork,I’msorrythatyourworld,yourlife,issohotanddarkandunremembered,I’msorrythatI’mintruding…
Stillstaringatme,hegraspedthehandlesofhisdish.Forone,two,thuddingheartbeats,Iwasgrippedbytheridiculous,terrifyingthoughtthathewasgoingtothrowtheboilingoilinmyface.FearjerkedatmyfeetandImoved,easingmywaypasthimwithmyhandsflatagainstthedampsurfaceofthestonewall.Twostepsbeyondhim,myfootstruckacrackinthepathandIstumbled,andfell,dragginganothermandownwithme.Hewasanelderlyman,thinandfrail.Icouldfeelthewicker-basketofhisbonesthroughhiscoarsetunic.Wefellheavily,landingneartheopenentrancetoahouse,andtheoldmanstruckhishead.Iscrambledtomyfeet,slippingandslidingonapileofshiftingstones.Itriedtohelpthemantostand,buttherewasanelderlywomanwhosquattedonherhaunchesthere,intheopendoorway,andsheslappedatmyhands,warningmeaway.IapologisedinEnglish,strugglingtofindthewordsforI’msorryinHindi-Whatarethey?Prabakertaughtmethewords…Mujhakoafsoshain…that’sit-Isaiditthree,fourtimes.Inthatdark,quietcorridorbetweenthebuildings,thewordsechoedlikeadrunkard’sprayerinanemptychurch.
Theoldmanmoanedquietly,slouchinginthedoorway.Thewomanwipedhisfacewithacornerofherheadscarf,andheldtheclothoutformetoseethebrightstainofblood.Shesaidnothing,butherwrinkledfacewascreasedwithafrownofcontempt.Withthatsimplegesture,holdingoutthebloodstainedcloth,sheseemedtobesayingLook,youstupidoaf,yougreatclumsybarbarian,lookwhatyou’vedonehere…
Ifeltchokedbytheheat,smotheredbythedarknessandthestrangenessoftheplace.Thewallsseemedtopressuponmyhands,asifonlymyarmspreventedthemfromclosinginonmealtogether.Ibackedawayfromtheelderlycouple,stumblingatfirst,andthenplungingheadlongintotheshadow-landofthetunnelstreet.Ahandreachedouttograbatmyshoulder.Itwasagentletouch,butIalmostshoutedoutloud.
“Thisway,baba,”Prabakersaid,laughingquietly.“Whereareyoutakingyourself?Thiswayonly.Alongthispassagenow,andyoumustbekeepingyourtwofeetstotheoutsidebecausetoomuchdirtyitis,inthemiddleofthepassages,okay?”
Hewasstandingintheentrancetoanarrowgapformedbetweentheblankwallsoftwobuildings.Feeblelightgleamedintheteethandeyesofhissmile,butbeyondhimwasonlyblackness.
Heturnedhisbacktome,spreadhisfeetoutuntiltheytouchedthewalls,bracedhimselfwithhishands,andthenshuffledoff,slidinghisfeetalongthewallsinsmall,draggingsteps.Heexpectedmetofollow.Ihesitated,butwhentheawkwardstarofhisshufflingformmeltedinthedarknessandvanished,Itooputmyfeetoutagainstthewallsandshambledafterhim.
IcouldhearPrabakeraheadofme,butitwassodarkthatIcouldn’tseehim.Onefootstrayedfromtheedgeofthewall,andmybootsquelchedintoamuddyslimethatrestedinthecentreofthepath.Afoulsmellroseupfromthatviscousooze,andIkeptmyfeethardagainstthewalls,slidingthemalonginshortsteps.Somethingsquatandheavyslitheredpastme,raspingitsthickbodyagainstmyboot.
Secondslater,anotherandthenathirdcreaturewaddledpastmeinthedarkness,rollingheavyfleshoverthetoesofmyboots.
“Prabu!”Ibellowed,notknowinghowfaraheadofmehewas.
“Therearethingsinherewithus!”
“Things,baba?”
“Ontheground!Something’scrawlingonmyfeet!Somethingheavy!”
“Onlyratsarecrawlinghere,Lin.Therearenothings.”
“Rats?Areyoukidding?Thesethingsareasbigasbullterriers.
Jesus,thisissometour,myfriend!”
“Noproblembigrats,Lin,”Prabakeransweredquietlyfromthedarknessinfrontofme.“Bigratsarefriendlyfellows,notmakingmischiefforthepeople.Ifyoudon’tattackthem.Onlyonethingismakingthembiteandscratchandsuchthings.”
“What’sthat,forGod’ssake?”
“Shouting,baba,”herepliedsoftly.“Theydon’tliketheloudvoices.”
“Oh,great!Nowyoutellme,”Icroaked.“Isitmuchfurther?
Thisisstartingtogivemethecreepsand-”
He’dstopped,andIbumpedintohim,pressinghimagainstthepanelledsurfaceofawoodendoor.
“Wearehere,”hewhispered,reachingouttoknockwithacomplexseriesoftapsandpauses.Therewasascrapeandclunkasaheavyboltslidfree,andthenthedoorswungopen,dazzlinguswithsuddenbrightlight.Prabakergraspedmysleeveanddraggedmewithhim.“Quickly,Lin.Nobigratsallowedinside!”
Westeppedinsideasmallchamber,hemmedinbyblankwallsandlitfromhighabovebyarawsilkrectangleofsky.Icouldhearvoicesfromdeeperwithinthecul-de-sac.Ahugemanslammedthegateshut.Heputhisbacktoitandfaceduswithascowl,teethbared.Prabakerbegantotalkatonce,placatinghimwithsoftwordsandfawninggestures.Themanshookhisheadrepeatedly,interjectingregularlytosay_no,no,no.
Hetoweredoverme.IwasstandingsoclosetohimthatIcouldfeelthebreathfromhiswidenostrils,thesoundofitlikewindwhistlingthroughcavesonarockyshore.Hishairwasveryshort,exposingearsaslargeandnubbledasaboxer’spracticemitts.Hissquarefaceseemedtobeanimatedbymorestrongmuscletissuethantheaveragemanhasinhisback.Hischest,aswideasIwasfromshouldertoshoulder,roseandfellwitheachbreath,andresteduponanimmensebelly.
Thefinedagger-lineofhismoustacheaccentuatedhisscowl,andhelookedatmewithsuchundilutedloathingthatalittleprayerunfurleditselfinmymind.PleaseGod,don’tmakemefightthisman.
HeraisedthepalmsofhishandstostopPrabaker’swheedlingcajolery.Theywerehugehands,gnarledandcallousedenoughtoscrapethebarnaclesoffthesideofadry-dockedoiltanker.
“Hesayswearenotallowedinside,”Prabakerexplained.
“Well,”Ireplied,reachingpastthemanandattemptingwithunforcedenthusiasmtoopenthedoor,“youcan’tsaywedidn’ttry.”
“No,no,Lin!”Prabakerstoppedme.“Wemustarguewithhimaboutthismatter.”
Thebigmanfoldedhisarms,stretchingtheseamsofhiskhakishirtwithlittleripplesofsound.
“Idon’tthinkthat’ssuchagoodidea,”Imumbled,underatightsmile.
“Certainlyitis!”Prabakerinsisted.“Touristsarenotallowedhere,ortoanyoftheotherpeople-markets,butIhavetoldhimthatyouarenotoneofthesetouristfellows.IhavetoldhimthatyouhavelearnedtheMarathilanguage.Hedoesnotbelieveme.Thatisourproblemonly.Hedoesn’tbelieveanyforeignerwillspeakMarathi.YoumustforthatreasonspeakitalittleMarathiforhim.Youwillsee.Hewillallowusinside.”
“IonlyknowabouttwentywordsofMarathi,Prabu.”
“Noproblemtwentywords,baba.Justmakeabegin.Youwillsee.
Tellhimyourname.”
“Myname?”
“Yes,likeItaughtittoyou.NotinHindi,butinMarathi.
Okay,justbegin…”
“Ah,ah,mazanaoLinahey,”Imuttered,uncertainly.MynameisLin.
“Baapree!”thebigmangasped,hiseyeswidewithgenuinesurprise.GoodLord!
Encouraged,ItriedafewmoreofthephrasesPrabakerhadtaughtmeduringthelastfewweeks.
“MazaDeshNewZealandahey.AtameColabalarahellaahey.”MycountryisNewZealand.IamlivinginColabanow.
“_Kai_garam_mad’chud!”heroared,smilingforthefirsttime.
Thephraseliterallymeans,Whatahotmotherfucker!It’ssofrequentlyandinventivelyappliedinconversation,however,thatitcanbelooselytranslatedasSonofagun!
Thegiantgraspedmyshoulder,squeezingitwithamiableseverity.
IranthroughtherangeofmyMarathiphrases,beginningwiththefirstwordsI’daskedPrabakertoteachme-Iloveyourcountryverymuch-andconcludingwitharequestIwasoftenforcedtomakeinrestaurants,butwhichmust’veseemedspectacularlyinappropriateinthelittlealcove:Pleaseturnoffthefan,whileIameatingmysoup…
“Enoughnow,baba,”Prabakergurgledthroughhiswidegrin.WhenIfellsilent,thebigmanspokeswiftlyandexuberantly.
Prabakertranslatedforhim,noddingandgesturingexpressivelywithhishands.“HesaysheisBombaypoliceman,andhisnameisVinod.”
“He’sacop?”
“Ohyes,Lin.Apolice-cop,heis.”
“Dothecopsrunthisplace?”
“Oh,no.Thisispart-timeworkonly.Hesaysheissovery,veryhappytomeetyou…
“HesaysyouarethefirstgoraheevermetwhocanspeakMarathi…
“HesayssomeforeignersspeakHindi,butnobodyforeignercanspeakMarathi…
“HesaysMarathiishislanguage.HisnativeplaceisPune…
“HesaystheyspeakitaverypureMarathiinPune,andyoumustgotheretohearit…
“Hesaysheistoohappy!Youarelikeasontohim…
“Hesaysyoumustcometohishouse,andeatfoodsandmeethisfamily…
“Hesaysthatwillbeonehundredrupees.”
“Whatwasthat?”
“Baksheesh,Lin.Togoinside.Onehundredrupees,itis.Payhimnow.”
“Oh,sure.”Ifumbledafewnotesfrommypocket,peeledoffonehundredrupees,andhandeditover.There’saspecialsleightofhandthat’speculiartopolicemen:theconjuringtrickthatpalmsandconcealsbanknoteswithaskillthatexperiencedshell-gameswindlersenvy.Thebigmancollectedthemoneywithatwo-handedhandshake,smearedapalmacrosshischestasifbrushingawaycrumbsaftereatingasandwich,andthenscratchedathisnosewithpractisedinnocence.Themoneyhadvanished.Hepointedalongthenarrowcorridor.Wewerefreetoenter.Twosharpturnsandadozenpacesbeyondthegateanditsshaftofbrightlight,wecameuponakindofcourtyard.Severalmensatonroughwoodenbenches,orstoodintalkinggroupsoftwoorthree.SomewereArabs,dressedinloose,cottonrobesandkaffiyehs.AnIndianboymovedamongthem,servingblackteainlongglasses.SomeofthemenlookedatPrabakerandmewithfrowningcuriosity.WhenPrabakersmiledwidelyandwavedagreetingtheyturnedaway,concentratingtheirattentiononcemoreontheirconversation.Occasionally,oneoranotherofthemlookeduptoinspectagroupofchildrenwhosattogetheronalongwoodenbenchbeneatharaggedcanvasawning.
Itwasdarkerthere,afterthebrightlightoftheentrancechamber.Apatchworkofcanvasscrapsprovidedanunevencoverthatscreenedoutmostofthesky.Blankbrownandmagentawallsroseupallaroundus.ThefewwindowsIcouldsee,throughtearsinthecanvascoverings,wereboardedover.Notarealcourtyard,theroughlysquarespaceseemedunplanned,akindofmistake,analmostforgottenarchitecturalaccidentformedbybuildingandrebuildingontheruinsofotherstructureswithinthecongestedblock.Thegroundwaspavedwithhaphazardcollectionsoftilesthathadoncebeenthefloorsofkitchensandbathrooms.Twonakedbulbs,strangefruitonthewitheredvinesofbarewires,providedthepoorlight.
Wemovedtoaquietcorner,acceptedteawhenitwasoffered,andsippeditinsilenceforawhile.Then,speakingquietlyandslowly,Prabakertoldmeabouttheplacehecalledthepeople-market.Thechildrensittingbeneaththetatteredcanopywereslaves.They’dcomefromthecycloneinWestBengal,thedroughtinOrissa,thecholeraepidemicinHaryana,thesecessionistfightinginPunjab.Sourcedincalamity,recruitedandpurchasedbyscouts,thechildrenhadjourneyedtoBombaybytrain,oftenalone,throughallthemanyhundredsofkilometres.
Themengatheredinthecourtyardwerepurchasersoragents.
Althoughtheyseemedtoexpressnogreatinterest,talkingamongstthemselvesandforthemostpartignoringthechildrenonthewoodenbench,Prabakerassuredmethatarestrainedhagglingwastakingplace,andthatbargainswerebeingstruck,evenaswewatched.
Thechildrenwerethin,vulnerable,andsmall.Twoofthemsatwiththeirfourhandsbunchedtogetherinabeehive-ball.Onechildembracedanotherwithinthehuddleofaprotectivearm.Allofthemstaredoutatthewell-fed,well-clothedpurchasersandagents,followingeverychangeofexpressionoremphaticgestureoftheirbejewelledhands.Andtheeyesofthosechildrenwereliketheblackgleamatthebottomofasweetwaterwell.
Whatdoesittaketohardenaman’sheart?HowcouldIseethatplace,lookatthosechildren,andnotputastoptoit?Whydidn’tIcontacttheauthorities?Whydidn’tIgetagun,andputastoptoitmyself?Theanswertothat,liketheanswerstoallthebigquestions,cameinmanyparts.Iwasawantedman,ahuntedcriminal,livingontherun.Contactingpoliceorgovernmentauthoritieswasn’tanoptionforme.Iwasastrangerinthatstrangeland:itwasn’tmycountry,anditwasn’tmyculture.Ihadtoknowmore.Ihadtoknowthelanguagethatwasspoken,attheveryleast,beforeIcouldpresumetointerfere.
AndI’dlearned,thehardway,thatsometimes,evenwiththepurestintentions,wemakethingsworsewhenwedoourbesttomakethingsbetter.IfIcamebackwithagunandstoppedtheslavemarketthere,inthatcrookedconcretemaze,itwouldstartupagainsomewhereelse.StrangerthatIwas,Iknewthatmuch.
Andmaybethenewslavemarket,inadifferentplace,wouldbeworse.Iwashelplesstostopit,andIknewit.
WhatIdidn’tknowthen,andwhattroubledmeforalongtimeafterthatDayoftheSlaves,washowIcouldbethere,andlookatthechildren,andnotbecrushedbyit.Irealised,muchlater,thatapartoftheanswerlayintheAustralianprison,andthemenI’dmetthere.Someofthosemen,toomanyofthem,wereservingtheirfourthorfifthprisonsentences.Manyofthemhadbeguntheirimprisonmentinreformschools-Boys’Homes,theywerecalled,andYouthTrainingCentres-whentheywerenoolderthanthoseIndianslavechildren.Someofthemhadbeenbeaten,starved,andlockedinsolitaryconfinement.Someofthem,toomanyofthem,hadbeensexuallyabused.Askanymanwithalong-enoughexperienceofprisons,andhe’lltellyouthatallittakestohardenaman’sheartisasystemofjustice.
Andstrangeandshamefulasitistoadmitit,Iwasgladthatsomething,someone,someexperiencehadflintedmyheart.ThathardstonewithinmychestwasallthatprotectedmefromthosefirstsoundsandimagesofPrabaker’sdarktourofthecity.
Handsclappedinbrittleechoes,andalittlegirlstoodupfromthebenchtosinganddance.ItwasalovesongfromapopularHindimovie.Ihearditmanytimes,hundredsoftimes,duringthefollowingyears,anditalwaysremindedmeofthatchild,tenyearsold,andhersurprisinglystrong,high,thinvoice.Sheswayedherhips,pushinguphernon-existentbreastsinachild’simitationofatemptressburlesque,andnewinterestquirkedtheheadsofthepurchasersandagents.
PrabakerplayedtheVirgil.Hissoftvoicewasceaseless,explainingallthatwesaw,andallthatheknew.Hetoldmethatthechildrenwould’vedied,iftheyhadn’tfoundtheirwaytothepeople-market.Professionalrecruiters,knownastalentscouts,roamedfromonecatastrophetoanother,fromdroughttoearthquaketoflood.Starvingparents,who’dalreadywatchedoneormoreoftheirchildrensicken,anddie,blessedthescouts,kneelingtotouchtheirfeet.Theybeggedthemtobuyasonoradaughter,sothatatleastthatonechildwouldlive.
TheboysonsalethereweredestinedtoworkascameljockeysinSaudiArabia,Kuwait,andotherGulfStates.Somewouldbemaimedinthecamelracesthatprovidedafternoonentertainmentfortherichsheiks,Prabakersaid.Somewoulddie.Thesurvivors,growntootalltorideintheraces,wereoftenabandonedtofendforthemselves.ThegirlswouldworkinhouseholdsthroughouttheMiddleEast.Someofthemwouldbeusedforsex.
Buttheywerealive,Prabakersaid,thoseboysandgirls.Theyweretheluckyones.Foreverychildwhopassedthroughthepeople-markettherewereahundredothers,ormore,who’dstarvedinunutterableagonies,andweredead.
Thestarving,thedead,theslaves.Andthroughitall,thepurrandrustleofPrabaker’svoice.There’satruththat’sdeeperthanexperience.It’sbeyondwhatwesee,orevenwhatwefeel.
It’sanorderoftruththatseparatestheprofoundfromthemerelyclever,andtherealityfromtheperception.We’rehelpless,usually,inthefaceofit;andthecostofknowingit,likethecostofknowinglove,issometimesgreaterthananyheartwouldwillinglypay.Itdoesn’talwayshelpustolovetheworld,butitdoespreventusfromhatingtheworld.Andtheonlywaytoknowthattruthistoshareit,fromhearttoheart,justasPrabakertoldittome,justasI’mtellingittoyounow.
CHAPTERFOUR
“DoyouknowtheBorsalinohattest?”
“Thewhat?”
“TheBorsalinohattest.ItisthetestthatrevealswhetherahatisagenuineBorsalino,oraninferiorimitator.YouknowabouttheBorsalino,non?”
“No,Ican’tsayIdo.”
“Aaaaah,”Didiersmiled.Thesmilewascomposedofonepartsurprise,onepartmischief,andonepartcontempt.Somehow,thoseelementscombinedinaneffectthatwasdisarminglycharming.Heleanedslightlyforwardandinclinedhisheadtooneside,hisblackcurlyhairshakingasiftoemphasisethepointsinhisexplanation.“TheBorsalinoisagarmentofthefirstandfinestquality.Itisbelievedbymany,andmyselfincluded,tobethemostoutstandinggentleman’sheadcoveringevermade.”
Hishandsshapedanimaginaryhatonhishead.
“Itiswide-brimmed,inblackorwhite,andmadefromthefursofthelapin.”
“So,it’sjustahat,”Iadded,inwhatIthoughttobeanagreeabletone.“We’retalkingaboutarabbit-furhat.”
Didierwasoutraged.
“Justahat?Oh,no,myfriend!TheBorsalinoismorethanjustahat.TheBorsalinoisaworkofart!Itisbrushedtenthousandtimes,byhand,beforeitissold.ItwasthestyleexpressionoffirstchoicebydiscerningFrenchandItaliangangstersinMilanandMarseillesformanydecades.TheverynameofBorsalinobecameasynonymeforgangsters.ThewildyoungmenoftheunderworldofMilanoandMarseilleswerecalledBorsalinos.Thosewerethedayswhengangstershadsomestyle.Theyunderstoodthatifyouweretoliveasanoutlawandstealandshootpeopleforaliving,youhadaresponsibilitytodresswithsomeelegance.
Isn’titso?”“It’stheleasttheycoulddo,”Iagreed,smiling.
“Butofcourse!Now,sadly,thereisallattitudeandnostyle.
Itisthemarkoftheageinwhichwelivethatthestylebecomestheattitude,insteadoftheattitudebecomingthestyle.”
Hepaused,permittingmeamomenttoacknowledgetheturnofphrase.
“Andso,”hecontinued,“thetestofarealBorsalinohatistorollitintoacylinder,rollitupintoaverytighttube,andpassitthroughaweddingring.Ifitemergesfromthistestwithoutpermanentcreases,andifitspringsbacktoitsoriginalshape,andifitisnotdamagedintheexperience,itisagenuineBorsalino.”
“Andyou’resaying…”
“Justso!”Didiershouted,slammingafistdownonthetable.
WeweresittinginLeopold’s,nearthesquarearchoftheCausewaydoors,ateighto’clock.Someforeignersatthenexttableturnedtheirheadsatthenoisyoutburst,butthestaffandtheregularsignoredtheFrenchman.DidierhadbeeneatinganddrinkingandexpostulatingatLeopold’sfornineyears.Theyallknewtherewasalineyoucouldcrosswithhim,alimittohistolerance,andhewasadangerousmanifyoucrossedit.Theyalsoknewthatthelinewasn’tdrawninthesoftsandofhisownlifeorbeliefsorfeelings.Didier’slinewasdrawnthroughtheheartsofthepeopleheloved.Ifyouhurtthem,inanyway,yourousedhimtoacoldanddeadlyrage.Butnothinganyonesaidordidtohim,shortofactualbodilyharm,everreallyoffendedorangeredhim.
“Comme%ca!Thatismypoint!Yourlittlefriend,Prabaker,hasputyouthroughthehattest.Herolledyouintoatube,anddraggedyouthroughtheweddingring,toseeifyouarearealBorsalinoornot.Thatwashispurposeintakingyouonthetourofthebadsightsandsoundsofthecity.ItwasaBorsalinotest.”
Isippedmycoffeeinsilence,knowingthathewasright-
Prabaker’sdarktourhadbeenakindoftest-butnotwillingtogiveDidierthetrophyofconcedingthepoint.
TheeveningcrowdoftouristsfromGermany,Switzerland,France,England,Norway,America,Japan,andadozenothercountriesthinnedout,givingwaytothenightcrowdofIndiansandexpatriateswhocalledBombayhome.ThelocalsreclaimedplaceslikeLeopold’s,theMocambo,CafeMondegar,andtheLightofAsiaeverynight,whenthetouristssoughtthesafetyoftheirhotels.
“Ifitwasatest,”Ididatlastconcede,“hemust’vegivenmeapass.Heinvitedmetogowithhimtovisithisfamily,inhisvillageinthenorthofthestate.”
Didierraisedhiseyebrowsintheatricalsurprise.
“Forhowlong?”
“Idon’tknow.Acoupleofmonths,Ithink.Maybemore.”
“Ah,thenitisso,”heconcluded.“Yourlittlefriendisbeginningtoloveyou.”
“Ithinkthat’sputtingitabitstrong,”Iobjected,frowning.
“No,no,youdonotunderstand.Youmustbecareful,here,withtherealaffectionofthoseyoumeet.Thisisnotlikeanyotherplace.ThisisIndia.Everyonewhocomesherefallsinlove-mostofusfallinlovemanytimesover.AndtheIndians,theylovemostofall.Yourlittlefriendmaybebeginningtoloveyou.
Thereisnothingstrangeinthis.Isayitfromalongexperienceofthiscountry,andespeciallyofthiscity.Ithappensoften,andeasily,fortheIndians.Thatishowtheymanagetolivetogether,abillionofthem,inreasonablepeace.Theyarenotperfect,ofcourse.Theyknowhowtofightandlieandcheateachother,andallthethingsthatallofusdo.Butmorethananyotherpeopleintheworld,theIndiansknowhowtoloveoneanother.”
Hepausedtolightacigarette,andthenwaveditlikealittleflagpoleuntilthewaiternoticedhimandnoddedtohisrequestforanotherglassofvodka.
“IndiaisaboutsixtimesthesizeofFrance,”hewenton,astheglassofalcoholandabowlofcurriedsnacksarrivedatourtable.“Butithasalmosttwentytimesthepopulation.Twentytimes!Believeme,iftherewereabillionFrenchmenlivinginsuchacrowdedspace,therewouldberiversofblood.Riversofblood!And,aseveryoneknows,weFrencharethemostcivilisedpeopleinEurope.Indeed,inthewholeworld.No,no,withoutlove,Indiawouldbeimpossible.”
Letitiajoinedusatourtable,sittingtomyleft.
“Whatareyouonaboutnow,Didier,youbastard?”sheaskedcompan-ionably,herSouthLondonaccentgivingthefirstsyllableofthelastwordanexplosivering
“HewasjusttellingmethattheFrencharethemostcivilisedpeopleintheworld.”“Asalltheworldknows,”headded.
“WhenyouproduceaShakespeare,outofyourvillesandvineyards,mate,Imightjustagreewithyou,”Lettiemurmuredthroughasmilethatseemedtobewarmandcondescendinginequalparts.
“Mydear,pleasedonotthinkthatIdisrespectyourShakespeare,”Didiercountered,laughinghappily.“IlovetheEnglishlanguage,becausesomuchofitisFrench.”
“Touche,”Igrinned,“aswesayinEnglish.”
UllaandModenaarrivedatthatmoment,andsatdown.Ullawasdressedforworkinasmall,tight,black,halter-neckdress,fishnetstockings,andstiletto-heelshoes.Sheworeeye-dazzlingfakediamondsatherthroatandears.ThecontrastbetweenherclothingandLettie’swasstark.Lettieworeafine,bone-colouredbrocadejacketoverloose,dark-brownsatinculottes,andboots.Yetthefacesofthetwowomenproducedthestrongestandmostunexpectedcontrast.Lettie’sgazewasseductive,direct,self-assured,andsparklingwithironiesandsecrets,whileUlla’swideblueeyes,forallthemake-upandclothingofherprofessionalsexuality,showednothingbutinnocence-honest,vacuousinnocence.
“Youareforbiddentospeaktome,Didier,”Ullasaidatonce,poutinginconsolably.“IhavehadaverydisagreeabletimewithFederico-threehours-anditisallyourfault.”
“Bah!”Didierspatout.“Federico!”
“Oh,”Lettiejoinedin,makingthreelongsoundsoutofone.
“Something’shappenedtothebeautifulyoungFederico,hasit?
Comeon,Ullamedarlin’,let’shaveallthegossip.”
“_Na_ja,Federicohasgotareligion,andheisdrivingmecrazyaboutit,anditisallDidier’sfault.”
“Yes!”Didieradded,clearlydisgusted.“Federicohasfoundreligion.Itisatragedy.Henolongerdrinksorsmokesortakesdrugs.Andofcoursehewillnothavesexwithanyone-notevenwithhimself!Itisanappallingwasteoftalent.Themanwasageniusofthecorruptions,myfineststudent,mymasterwork.Itismaddening.Heisnowagoodman,intheveryworstsenseoftheword.”
“Well,youwinafew,youloseafew,”Lettiesighedwithmocksympathy.“Youmustn’tletitgetyoudown,Didier.There’llbeotherfishforyoutofryandgobbleup.”
“Yoursympathyshouldbeforme,”Ullachided.“FedericocamefromDidierinsuchabadmoodyesterday,hewasatmydoortodayintears.Scheisse!Wirklich!Forthreehourshecriedandheravedatmeaboutbeingbornagain.IntheendIfeltsosorryforhim.
ItwasonlywithagreatsufferingthatIletModenathrowhimandhisbiblebooksontothestreet.It’sallyourfault,Didier,andIwilltakethelongesttimetoforgiveyouforit.”
“Fanatics,”Didiermused,ignoringtherebuke,“alwaysseemtohavethesamescrubbedandstaringlookaboutthem.Theyhavethelookofpeoplewhodonotmasturbate,butwhothinkaboutitalmostallthetime.”
“Ireallydoloveyou,youknow,Didier,”Lettiestuttered,throughherbubblinglaughter.“Evenifyouareadespicabletoadofaman.”
“No,youlovehimbecauseheisadespicabletoeofaman,”Ulladeclared.
“That’stoad,love,nottoe,”Lettiecorrectedpatiently,stilllaughing.“He’satoadofaman,notatoeofaman.Adespicabletoewouldn’tmakeanysenseatall,nowwouldit?Wewouldn’tlovehimorhatehimjustforbeingatoeofaman,wouldwe,darlin’-evenifweknewwhatitmeant?”
“I’mnotsogoodwiththeEnglishjokes,youknowthat,Lettie,”
Ullapersisted.“ButIthinkhe_isabig,ugly,hairytoeofaman.”
“Iassureyou,”Didierprotested,“thatmytoes-andmyfeet,forthatmatter-areexceptionallybeautiful.”
Karla,Maurizio,andanIndianmaninhisearlythirtieswalkedinfromthebusynightstreet.MaurizioandModenajoinedasecondtabletoours,andthentheeightofusordereddrinksandfood.
“Lin,Lettie,thisismyfriend,VikramPatel,”Karlaannounced,whentherewasamomentofrelativequiet.“Hecamebackacoupleofweeksago,afteralongholidayinDenmark,andIthinkyou’retheonlytwowhohaven’tmethim.”
LettieandIintroducedourselvestothenewcomer,butmyrealattentionwasonMaurizioandKarla.Hesatbesideher,oppositeme,andrestedhishandonthebackofherchair.Heleanedinclosetoher,andtheirheadsalmosttouchedwhentheyspoke.
There’sadarkfeeling-lessthanhatred,butmorethanloathing–thatuglymenfeelforhandsomemen.It’sunreasonableandunjustified,ofcourse,butit’salwaysthere,hidinginthelongshadowthrownbyenvy.Itcreepsout,intothelightofyoureyes,whenyou’refallinginlovewithabeautifulwoman.IlookedatMaurizio,andalittleofthatdarkfeelingbeganinmyheart.Hisstraight,whiteteeth,smoothcomplexion,andthick,darkhairturnedmeagainsthimmoreswiftlyandsurelythanflawsinhischaractermightVedone.
AndKarlawasbeautiful:herhair,inaFrenchroll,wasshininglikewaterrunningoverblackriverstones,andhergreeneyeswereradiantwithpurposeandpleasure.Sheworealong-sleevedIndiansalwartopthatreachedtobelowherknees,whereitmetloosetrousersinthesameolivesilkfabric.
“Ihadagreattime,yaar,”thenewcomer,Vikram,wassayingwhenmythoughtsreturnedtothemoment.“Denmarkisveryhip,verycool.Thepeopleareverysophisticated.They’resofuckingcontrolled,Icouldn’tbelieveit.Iwenttoasauna,inCopenhagen.Itwasafuckinghugeplace,yaar,withamixedset-up-withmenandwomen,together,walkingaroundstarknaked.
Absolutely,totallynaked.Andnobodyreactedatall.Notevenaflickeringeye,yaar.Indianguyscouldn’thandlethat.They’dbeboiling,Itellyou.”
“Wereyouboiling,Vikramdear?”Lettieasked,sweetly.
“Areyoufuckingkidding?Iwastheonlyguyintheplacewearingatowel,andtheonlyguywithahard-on.”
“Idon’tunderstand,”Ullasaid,whenwestoppedlaughing.Itwasaflatstatement-neitheracomplaint,norapleaforfurtherexplanation.
“Hey,Iwentthereeverydayforthreeweeks,yaar,”Vikramcontinued.“IthoughtthatifIjustspentenoughtimethere,I’dgetusedtoit,likeallthesuper-coolDanes.”
“Getusedtowhat?”Ullaasked.
Vikramfrownedather,bewildered,andthenturnedtoLettie.
“Itwasnogood.Itwasuseless.Afterthreeweeks,Istillhadtowearthetowel.NomatterhowoftenIwentthere,whenIsawthosebouncybitsgoingupanddown,andside-to-side,Istiffenedup.WhatcanIsay?I’mtooIndianforaplacelikethat.”
“ItisthesameforIndianwomen,”Maurizioobserved.“Evenwhentheyaremakinglove,itisnotpossibletobenaked.”
“Well,that’snotalwaystrue,”Vikramwenton,“Andanyway,it’stheguyswhoaretheproblemhere.Indianwomenarereadytochange.YoungIndianchicksfrommiddle-classfamiliesarewildaboutchange,yaar.They’reeducated,andthey’rereadyforshorthair,shortdresses,andshortloveaffairs.They’rereadyforit,buttheguysareholdingthemback.TheaverageIndianguyhasasexualmaturityofaboutfourteen.”
“Tellmeaboutit,”Lettiemuttered.
KavitaSinghhadapproachedourtablemomentsbefore,andstoodbehindVikramwhilehemadehisobservationsaboutIndianwomen.
Withshort,styledhair,andwearingjeansandawhitesweatshirtbearingtheemblemofNewYorkUniversity,shewasthelivingwoman,thephysicalrepresentationofwhatVikramhadbeensaying.Shewastherealthing.
“You’resuchachudd,Vikkie,”shesaid,takingaplaceoppositehimandonmyrightside.“Yousayallthis,butyou’rejustasbadasalltherest.Lookathowyoutreatyourownsister,yaar,ifshedarestowearjeansandatightsweater.”
“Hey,Iboughtherthattightsweater,inLondon,lastyear!”
Vikramprotested.
“Butyoustillgaveherbucketsofgriefwhensheworeittothejazzyatra,na?”
“Well,howwasItoknowthatshewouldwanttowearitoutsidetheapartment?”hecounteredlamely,provokinglaughterandderisionfromthewholegroup.NonelaughedharderthanVikramhimself.
VikramPatelwasofaverageheightandbuild,butaveragestoppedjustthere,withthosecharacteristics.Histhick,curly,blackhairframedahandsome,intelligentface.Thebrightandanimatedlightbrowneyesstaredoutconfidentlyabovealong,hawk-likenoseandasharp,immaculatelytrimmedZapatamoustache.Hisclotheswereblack-cowboyboots,jeans,shirt,andleathervest–andheworeaflat,blackSpanishflamencohatonhisback,hangingfromaleatherthongathisthroat.Hisbolotie,dollar-coinbelt,andhatbandwereallinsilver.Helookedlikeaheroinaspaghettiwesternmovie,andthatwas,infact,theinspirationforhisstyle.VikramhadanobsessionwithSergioLeone’sfilms,OnceUponATimeInTheWest,andTheGood,TheBadandTheUgly.Later,whenIknewhimbetter,whenIwatchedhimwintheheartofthewomanheloved,andwhenwestoodtogethertofaceandfightenemieswhowantedtokillme,Ilearnedthathewasahero,andthathewould’veheldhisownwithanyofthegunslingersheadored.
Sittingoppositehimonthatfirstmeeting,Iwasstruckbytheeasewithwhichheassumedhisblackcowboydream,andthestylishassurancethatcarrieditoff.Vikramisthekindofmanwhowearshissleeveonhisheart,Karlaoncesaid.Itwasanaffectionatejoke,andonethatweallunderstood,buttherewasabrittlefilamentofscorninit,aswell.Ididn’tlaughwiththeotherswhenshesaidit.
PeoplelikeVikram,peoplewhocanwearanobsessionwithpanache,alwayswinmeoverbecausetheirhonestyspeaksdirectlytomyheart.
“No,it’strue!”hepersisted.“InCopenhagentherewasthisclub.It’swhattheycallatelephoneclub.There’sallthesetables,yaar,andeverytablehasanumberthat’slitupinredlights.Ifyouseesomeoneinteresting,someonereallyhot,sittingattabletwelve,youjustdialupnumbertwelve,andspeaktothem.Fuckingdeadlysystem,man.Halfthetimeyoudon’tknowwho’scallingyou,ortheydon’tknowwhoyouare.
Sometimesyoutalkforanhour,tryingtoguesswho’stalkingtoyou,becauseeverybodyistalkingatthesametime.Andthenyoutelleachotherwhattableyou’reat.Ihadarealnicepartythere,Icantellyou.Butiftheytriedtodoithere,itwouldn’tlastfiveminutes,becausetheguyscouldn’thandleit.
SomanyIndianguysarechutias,yaar.They’dbeswearing,andsayingallsortsofindecentshit,thechildishmotherfuckers.
That’sallI’msaying.InCopenhagen,thepeoplewerealotcooler,andwe’vestillgotadamnlongwaytogo,here,beforeIndiacatchesuptothemonthecoolscale.”
“Ithinkthatthingsaregettingbetter,”Ullavolunteered.“IgetthefeelingthefutureofIndiaisagoodfuture.Iamsurethingswillbegood,youknow,likebetterthannow,andtherewillbealotofbetterliving,foralotofthepeople.”
Weallturnedtostareather.Thetablewassilent.WewerestunnedtohearsuchsentimentsexpressedbyayoungwomanwhomadeherlivingasthesexualplaythingofthoseIndianswhowererichenoughtoexploither.Shewasusedandabused,andI,forone,would’veexpectedhertobemorecynical.Optimismisthefirstcousinoflove,andit’sexactlylikeloveinthreeways:it’spushy,ithasnorealsenseofhumour,anditturnsupwhereyouleastexpectit.
“Really,mydearfoolishUlla,nothingchangesatall,”Didiersaid,curlinghislipindisgust.“Ifyouwanttocurdlethemilkofyourhumankindness,orturnyourcompassionintocontempt,getajobasawaitressoracleaner.Thetwofastestwaystodevelopahealthyloathingforthehumanraceanditsdestinyistoserveitfood,orcleanupafterit,ontheminimumwage.Ihavedonebothjobs,inthoseterribledayswhenIwasforcedtoworkforaliving.Itwashorrible.Ishuddernowinthinkingaboutit.That’swhereIlearnedthatnothingeverreallychanges.Andtospeakthetruth,Iamgladofit.Inabetterworld,oraworseone,Iwouldmakenomoneyatall.”
“Bullshit,”Lettiedeclared.“Thingscangetbetter,andthingscangetalotworse.Askthepeopleintheslum.They’reexpertsinhowmuchworsethingscanget.Isn’tthatright,Karla?”
WeallturnedourattentiontoKarla.Shetoyedwithhercupforaninstant,turningitslowlyinthesaucerwithherlongindexfinger.
“Ithinkthatweall,eachoneofus,weallhaveto_earnourfuture,”shesaidslowly.“Ithinkthefutureislikeanythingelsethat’simportant.Ithastobeearned.Ifwedon’tearnit,wedon’thaveafutureatall.Andifwedon’tearnit,ifwedon’tdeserveit,wehavetoliveinthepresent,moreorlessforever.Orworse,wehavetoliveinthepast.Ithinkthat’sprobablywhatloveis-awayofearningthefuture.”
“Well,IagreewithDidier,”Mauriziostated,finishinghismealwithaglassoficedwater.“Ilikethingsjustastheyare,andIamcontentiftheydonotchange.”
“Howaboutyou?”Karlaasked,turningtofaceme.
“Whataboutme?”Ismiled.
“Ifyoucouldbehappy,reallyhappy,forjustawhile,butyouknewfromthestartthatitwouldendinsadness,andbringpainafterwards,wouldyouchoosetohavethathappinessorwouldyouavoidit?”
Theattentionandthequestionunsettledme,andIfeltmomentarilyuncomfortableintheexpectantsilencethatawaitedmyreply.Ihadthefeelingthatshe’daskedthequestionbefore,andthatitwasakindoftest.Maybeshe’dalreadyaskedtheothersatthetable.Maybethey’dgiventheiranswers,andwerewaitingtohearmine.Iwasn’tsurewhatshewantedmetosay,butthefactwasthatmylifehadalreadyansweredthequestion.
I’dmademychoicewhenIescapedfromprison.
“I’dchoosethehappiness,”Ireplied,andwasrewardedwithahalf-smileofrecognitionoramusement-perhapsitwasboth-fromKarla.
“Iwouldn’tdoit,”Ullasaid,frowning.“Ihatesadness.Ican’tbearit.Iwouldratherhavenothingatallthanevenalittlesadness.Ithinkthat’swhyIlovetosleepsomuch,na?It’simpossibletobereallysadwhenyou’reasleep.Youcanbehappyandafraidandangryinyourdreams,butyouhavetobewideawaketobesad,don’tyouthink?”
“I’mwithyou,Ulla,”Vikramagreed.“There’stoomuchfuckingsadnessintheworld,yaar.That’swhyeverybodyisgettingsostonedallthetime.Iknowthat’swhyI’mgettingsostonedallthetime.”
“Mmmmm-no,Iagreewithyou,Lin,”Kavitaputin,althoughIcouldn’tbesurehowmuchwasagreementwithme,andhowmuchmerelythereflexofopposingVikram.“Ifyouhaveachanceatrealhappiness,whateverthecost,youhavetotakeit.”
Didiergrewrestless,irritatedwiththeturntheconversationhadtaken.
“Youarebeingmuchtooserious,allofyou.”
“I’mnot!”Vikramobjected,stungbythesuggestion.
Didierfixedhimwithoneraisedeyebrow.
“Imeanthatyouaremakingthingstobemoredifficultthantheyare,orneedtobe.Thefactsoflifeareverysimple.Inthebeginningwefearedeverything-animals,theweather,thetrees,thenightsky-everythingexcepteachother.Nowwefeareachother,andalmostnothingelse.No-oneknowswhyanyonedoesanything.No-onetellsthetruth.No-oneishappy.No-oneissafe.Inthefaceofallthatissowrongwiththeworld,theveryworstthingyoucandoissurvive.Andyetyoumustsurvive.
Itisthisdilemmathatmakesusbelieveandclingtotheliethatwehaveasoul,andthatthereisaGodwhocaresaboutitsfate.Andnowyouhaveit.”
Hesatbackinhischair,andtwirledthepointsofhisD’Artagnanmoustachewithbothhands.
“I’mnotsurewhathejustsaid,”Vikrammuttered,afterapause,“butsomehowIagreewithhim,andfeelinsulted,atthesametime.”
Mauriziorosefromhisseattoleave.HeplacedahandonKarla’sshoulder,andturnedtotherestofuswithabrilliantsmileofaffabilityandcharm.Ihadtoadmirethatsmile,evenasIwasworkingmyselfuptohatehimforit.
“Don’tbeconfused,Vikram,”hesaidpleasantly.“Didieronlyhasonesubject-himself.”
“Andhiscurse,”Karlaaddedquickly,“isthatitisafascinatingsubject.”
“Merci,Karla,darling,”Didiermurmured,presentingherwithalittlebow.
“Allom,Modena,let’sgo.Wemayseeyoualllater,atthePresident,si?Ciao.”
HekissedKarlaonthecheek,putonhisRay-Bansunglasses,andstalkedoutintothecrowdednightwithModenaathisside.TheSpaniardhadn’tspokenonceallevening,orevensmiled.Astheirshapeswerelostintheshifting,shufflingfiguresonthestreet,however,IsawthathespoketoMauriziopassionately,wavinghisclenchedfist.Iwatchedthemuntiltheyweregone,andwasstartledandalittleashamedtohearLettiespeakaloudthesmallest,meanestcornerofmythoughts.
“He’snotascoolashelooks,”shesnarled.
“Nomanisascoolashelooks,”Karlasaid,smilingandreachingouttocoverLettie’shandwithherown.
“Youdon’tlikeMaurizioanymore?”Ullaasked.
“Ihatehim.No,Idon’thatehim.ButIdespisehim.Itmakesmesicktolookathim.”
“MydearLetitia-”Didierbegan,butKarlacuthimoff.
“Notnow,Didier.Giveitarest.”
“Idon’tknowhowIcould’vebeensostupid,”Lettiegrowled,clenchingherteeth.
“_Na_ja…”Ullasaidslowly.“Idon’twanttosay__Itoldyou_so,but…”
“Oh,whynot?”Kavitaasked.“IlovetosayItoldyouso.ItellVikramItoldyousoatleastonceaweek.I’drathersayItoldyousothaneatchocolate.”
“Iliketheguy,”Vikramputin.“Didyouallknowhe’safantastichorseman?HecanridelikeClintEastwood,yaar.IsawhimatChowpattylastweek,ridingonthebeachwiththisgorgeous,blonde,Swedishchick.HerodejustlikeClint,inHighPlainsDrifter,I’mtellingyou.Fuckingdeadly.”
“Oh,well,heridesahorse,”Lettiesaid.“HowcouldIhavebeensowrongabouthim?Itakeitallbackthen.”
“He’sgotacoolhi-fiinhisapartment,too,”Vikramadded,apparentlyoblivioustoLettie’smood.“AndsomedamnfineoriginalItalianmoviescores.”
“That’sit!I’moff!”Lettiedeclared,standingandgrabbingherhandbagandthebookshe’dbroughtwithher.Herredhair,fallingingentlecurlsthatframedherface,trembledwithherirritation.Herpaleskinstretchedsoflawlesslyoverthesoftcurvesofherheart-shapedfacethatforamoment,inthebrightwhitelight,shewasafurious,marbleMadonna,andIrecalledwhatKarlahadsaidofher:IthinkLettie’sthemostspiritualofallof_us…
Vikramjumpedtohisfeetwithher.“I’llwalkyoutoyourhotel.I’mgoingyourway.”
“Isthatright?”Lettieasked,roundingonhimsoswiftlythatheflinched.“Whichwaywouldthatbethen?”
“I…I…I’mgoing,kindof,everywhere,yaar.I’mtakingaverylongwalk,like.So…so…whereveryou’regoing,I’llbegoingyourway.”
“Oh,allright,ifyoumust,”shemurmured,herteethclenchedandhereyesflashingbluesparks.“Karlamelove,seeyouattheTaj,tomorrow,forcoffee.Ipromisenottobelatethistime.”
“I’llbethere,”Karlaagreed.
“Well,byeall!”Lettiesaid,waving.
“Yeah,metoo!”Vikramadded,rushingafterher.
“Youknow,thethingIlikemostaboutLetitia,”Didiermused,“isthatnolittlebitofherisFrench.Ourculture,theFrenchculture,issopervasiveandinfluentialthatalmosteveryone,inthewholeworld,isatleastalittlebitFrench.Thisisespeciallysoforwomen.AlmosteverywomanintheworldisFrench,insomeway.ButLetitia,sheisthemostun-FrenchwomanIhaveeverknown.”
“You’refullofit,Didier,”Kavitaremarked.“Tonightmorethanmostnights.Whatisit-didyoufallinlove,oroutoflove?”
Hesighed,andstaredathishands,foldedoneontoptheother.
“Alittleofboth,Ithink.Iamfeelingveryblue.Federico-youknowhim-hasfoundreligion.Itisaterriblebusiness,andithaswoundedme,Iconfess.Intruth,hissaintlinesshasbrokenmyheart.Butenoughofthat.ImtiazDharkerhasanewexhibitionattheJehangir.Herworkisalwayssensuous,andalittlebitwild,anditbringsmetomyselfagain.Kavita,wouldyouliketoseeitwithme?”
“Sure,”Kavitasmiled.“I’dbehappyto.”
“I’llwalktotheRegalJunctionwithyou,”Ullasighed.“IhavetomeetModena.”
Theyroseandsaidgoodbye,andwalkedthroughtheCausewayarch,butthenDidierreturnedandstoodbesidemeatthetable.
Restingahandonmyshoulderasiftosteadyhimself,hesmileddownatmewithanexpressionofsurprisinglytenderaffection.
“Gowithhim,Lin,”hesaid.“GowithPrabaker,tothevillage.
Everycityintheworldhasavillageinitsheart.Youwillneverunderstandthecity,unlessyoufirstunderstandthevillage.Gothere.Whenyoureturn,IwillseewhatIndiahasmadeofyou.Bonnechance!”Hehurriedoff,leavingmealonewithKarla.WhenDidierandtheotherswereatthetable,therestauranthadbeennoisy.
Suddenly,allwasquiet,oritseemedtobe,andIhadtheimpressionthateverywordIspokewouldbeechoed,fromtabletotable,inthelargeroom.
“Areyouleavingus?”Karlaasked,mercifullyspeakingfirst.
“Well,Prabakerinvitedmetogowithhimonatriptohisparents’village.Hisnative-place,hecallsit.”
“Andyou’regoing?”
“Yes,yes,IthinkIwill.It’ssomethingofanhonourtobeasked,Itakeit.Hetoldmehegoesbacktohisvillage,tovisithisparents,onceeverysixmonthsorso.He’sdonethatforthelastnineyears,sincehe’sbeenworkingthetouristbeatinBombay.ButI’mthefirstforeignerheeverinvitedtogotherewithhim.”
Shewinkedatme,thestartofasmiletuggingatthecornersofhermouth.
“Youmaynotbethefirstoneheasked.Youmaybethefirstoneofhistouristscrazyenoughtoactuallysayyes,butitamountstothesamething.”
“DoyouthinkI’mcrazytoaccepttheinvitation?”
“Notatall!Oratleast,crazyintherightway,liketherestofus.Whereisthevillage?”
“Idon’tknow,exactly.It’sinthenorthofthestate.Hetoldmeittakesatrainandtwobusridestogetthere.”
“Didier’sright.Youhavetogo.Ifyouwanttostayhere,inBombay,asyousaythenyoushouldspendsometimeinthevillage.Thevillageisthekey.”
Apassingwaitertookourlastorder,andmomentslaterbroughtabananalassiforKarlaandachaiforme.
“Howlongdidittakeyoutofeelcomfortablehere,Karla?Imean,youalwaysseemsorelaxedandathome.It’slikeyou’vealwaysbeenhere.”
“Oh,Idon’tknow.It’stherightplaceforme,ifyouunderstandwhatImean,andIknewthatonthefirstday,inthefirsthourthatIcamehere.So,inasense,Iwascomfortablefromthebeginning.”
“It’sfunnyyousaythat.Ifeltabitlikethatmyself.Withinanhouroflandingattheairport,Ihadthisincrediblystrongfeelingthatthiswastherightplaceforme.”
“AndIsupposethattherealbreakthroughcamewiththelanguage.
WhenIstartedtodreaminHindi,IknewthatIwasathomehere.
Everythinghasfallenintoplacesincethen.”
“Isthatitnow?Areyougoingtostayhereforever?”
“There’snosuchthingasforever,”sheansweredinherslow,deliberateway.“Idon’tknowwhyweusetheword.”
“YouknowwhatImean.”
“Yeah.Yeah.Well,I’llstayuntilIgetwhatIwant.Andthen,maybe,I’llgosomewhereelse.”
“Whatdoyouwant,Karla?”
Shefrownedinconcentration,andshiftedhergazetostaredirectlyintomyeyes.ItwasanexpressionIcametoknowwell,anditseemedtosay,Ifyouhavetoaskthequestion,youhavenorighttotheanswer.
“Iwanteverything,”sherepliedwithafaint,wrysmile.“Youknow,Isaidthatonce,toafriendofmine,andhetoldmethattherealtrickinlifeistowantnothing,andtosucceedingettingit.”
Later,afterwe’dnegotiatedthecrowdsontheCausewayandtheStrand,andwalkedtheleafyarchesoftheemptystreetsbehindthenight-silentColabaMarket,westoppedatabenchbeneathatoweringelmnearherapartment.
“It’sreallyaparadigmshift,”Isaid,tryingtoexplainapointI’dbeenmakingaswe’dwalked.“Acompletelydifferentwayoflookingatthings,andthinkingaboutthings.”
“You’reright.That’sexactlywhatitis.”
“Prabakertookmetoakindofhospice,anoldapartmentbuilding,neartheStGeorgeHospital.Itwasfullofsickanddyingpeoplewho’dbeengivenapieceoffloor-spacetoliedownanddieon.Andtheowneroftheplace,whohasthisreputationasakindofsaint,waswalkingaround,taggingthepeople,withsignsthattoldhowmanyusefulorganstheyhad.Itwasahugeorgan-bank,fulloflivingpeoplewhopayfortheprivilegeofaquiet,cleanplacetodie,offthestreet,byprovidingorganswheneverthisguyneedsthem.Andthepeoplewerepatheticallygratefultotheguyforit.Theyreveredhim.Theylookedathimasiftheylovedhim.”
“Heputyouthroughitinthelasttwoweeks,yourfriend,Prabaker,didn’the?”
“Well,therewasmuchworsethanthat.Buttherealproblemisthatyoucan’tdoanything.Youseekidswho…well,they’reinalotoftrouble,andyouseepeopleintheslums-hetookmetotheslum,wherehelives,andthestinkoftheopenlatrine,andthehopelessmessoftheplace,andthepeoplestaringatyoufromthedoorwaysoftheirhovelsand…andyoucan’tchangeanything.Youcan’tdoanythingaboutit.Youhavetoacceptthatthingscouldbeworse,andthey’llneverbemuchbetter,andyou’recompletelyhelplessinthefaceofit.”
“It’sgoodtoknowwhat’swrongwiththeworld,”Karlasaid,afterawhile.“Butit’sjustasimportanttoknowthatsometimes,nomatterhowwrongitis,youcan’tchangeit.Alotofthebadstuffintheworldwasn’treallythatbaduntilsomeonetriedtochangeit.”
“I’mnotsureIwanttobelievethat.Iknowyou’reright.Iknowwemakethingsworse,sometimes,themorewetrytomakethembetter.ButIwanttobelievethatifwedoitright,everythingandeveryonecanchangeforthebetter.”
“Youknow,IactuallyranintoPrabakertoday.Hetoldmetoaskyouaboutthewater,whateverthatmeans.”
“Oh,yeah,”Ilaughed.“Justyesterday,IwentdownfrommyhoteltomeetPrabakeronthestreet.Butonthestairwell,thereweretheseIndianguys,oneaftertheother,carryingbigpotsofwaterontheirheads,andclimbingthestairs.Ihadtostandagainstthewalltoletthempass.WhenImadeittothebottom,Isawthisbigwoodenbarrelwithiron-rimmedwheelsattachedtoit.Itwasakindofwaterwagon.Anotherguywasusingabucket,andhewasdippingitintothebarrelandfillingthebigcarry-potswithwater.
“Iwatchedthisforages,andthemenmadealotoftrips,upanddownthestairs.WhenPrabakercamealong,Iaskedhimwhattheyweredoing.Hetoldmethatthatwasthewaterformyshower.
Thattheshowercamefromatankontheroof,andthatthesemenfilledthetankwiththeirpots.”
“Ofcourse.”
“Yeah,youknowthat,andIknowthatnow,butyesterdaywasthefirstIheardofit.Inthisheat,I’vebeeninthehabitoftakingthreeshowersaday.Ineverrealisedthatmenhadtoclimbsixflightsofstairs,tofilladamntank,sothatIcouldtakethoseshowers.Ifelthorribleaboutit,youknow?ItoldPrabakerI’dnevertakeanothershowerinthathotelagain.Notever.”
“Whatdidhesay?”
“Hesaid,No,noyoudon’tunderstand.Hecalledita_people-
_job.It’sonlybecauseoftouristslikeme,heexplained,thatthosemenhaveajob.Andhetoldmethateachmanissupportingafamilyofhisownfromhiswages.Youshouldhavethreeshowers,fourshowers,evenfiveshowerseveryday,hetoldme.”
Shenoddedinagreement.
“Thenhetoldmetowatchthemenwhiletheygotthemselvesreadytorunthroughthecityagain,pushingtheirwaterwagon.AndIthinkIknewwhathemeant,whathewantedmetosee.Theywerestrong,thoseguys.Theywerestrongandproudandhealthy.Theyweren’tbeggingorstealing.Theywereworkinghardtoearntheirway,andtheywereproudofit.Whentheyranoffintothetraffic,withtheirstrongmuscles,andgettingafewslylooksfromsomeoftheyoungIndiangirls,Isawthattheirheadswereupandtheireyesstraightahead.”
“Andyoustilltakeashowerinthehotel?”
“Threeaday,”Ilaughed.“Tellme,whywasLettiesoupsetwithMaurizio?”
Shelookedatme,staringhardintomyeyesforthesecondtimethatevening.
“LettiehasaprettygoodcontactattheForeignerRegistrationBranch.He’saseniorpoliceofficialwhohasanobsessionwithsapphiregems,andLettiesuppliesthemtohimatthewholesalerate,oralittlebelow.Sometimes,inexchangeforthis…favour…shecanarrangetohaveavisarenewed,almostindefinitely.Mauriziowantedtoextendhisvisaforanotheryear.HeallowedLettietothinkhewasinlovewithher-well,youcansayheseducedher-andwhenhegotwhathewanted,hedumpedher.”
“Lettie’syourfriend…”
“Iwarnedher.Maurizioisnotamantolove.Youcandoeverythingelsewithhim,butnotlovehim.Shedidn’tlistentome.”
“YoustilllikeMaurizio?Evenafterhedidthattoyourfriend?”
“MauriziodidexactlywhatIknewhewoulddo.Inhisownmind,hemadeatradeofhisaffectionforthevisa,anditwasafairtrade.Hewouldnevertryanythinglikethatwithme.”
“Isheafraidofyou?”Iasked,smiling.
“Yes.Ithinkheis,alittlebit.That’soneofthereasonsIlikehim.Icouldneverrespectamanwhodidn’thavethegoodsensetobeatleastalittlebitafraidofme.”Shestoodup,andIrosewithher.Underthestreetlamphergreeneyeswerejewelsofdesire,wetwithlight.Herlipswidenedinahalf-smilethatwasmine-amomentthatwasminealone-andthebeggar,myheart,begantohopeandplead.
“Tomorrow,”shesaid,“whenyougotoPrabaker’svillage,trytorelaxcompletely,andgowiththeexperience.Just…letyourselfgo.Sometimes,inIndia,youhavetosurrenderbeforeyouwin.”
“You’vealwaysgotsomewiseadvice,haven’tyou?”Isaid,laughinggently.
“That’snotwise,Lin.Ithinkwisdomisveryover-rated.Wisdomisjustcleverness,withallthegutskickedoutofit.I’dratherbecleverthanwise,anyday.MostofthewisepeopleIknowgivemeaheadache,butInevermetaclevermanorwomanIdidn’tlike.IfIwasgivingwiseadvice-whichI’mnot-I’dsaydon’tgetdrunk,don’tspendallyourmoney,anddon’tfallinlovewithaprettyvillagegirl.Thatwouldbewise.That’sthedifferencebetweencleverandwise.Iprefertobeclever,andthat’swhyItoldyoutosurrender,whenyougettothevillage,nomatterwhatyoufindwhenyougetthere.Okay.I’mgoing.Comeandseemewhenyougetback.Ilookforwardtoit.Ireallydo.”
Shekissedmycheek,andturnedaway.Icouldn’tobeytheimpulsetoholdherinmyarmsandkissherlips.Iwatchedherwalk,herdarksilhouetteapartofthenightitself.Thenshemovedintothewarm,yellowlightnearthedoorofherapartment,anditwasasifmywatchingeyeshadmadehershadowcometolife,asifmyheartalonehadpaintedherfromdarknesswiththelightandcoloursoflove.SheturnedoncetoseethatIwaswatchingher,beforeshesoftlyclosedandlockedthedoor.
ThatlasthourwithherwasaBorsalinotest,Iwassure,andallthewalkingwaybacktothehotelIaskedmyselfifI’dpassedit,orifI’dfailed.Istillthinkaboutit,alltheseyearslater.Istilldon’tknow.
____________________
CHAPTERFIVE
Thelong,flatinterstateplatformsatVictoriaTerminustrainstationstretchedouttovanishingpointsbeneathametalheavenofrollingvaultedceilings.Thecherubsofthatarchitecturalskywerepigeons,sofaroverheadintheirflutterfromroosttoroostthattheywereonlyfaintlydiscernible;distant,celestialbeingsofflight,andwhitelight.Thegreatstation-thosewhousediteverydayknewitasVT.-wasjustlyfamousforthesplendourofitsintricatelydetailedfacades,towers,andexteriorornaments.Butitsmostsublimebeauty,itseemedtome,wasfoundinitscathedralinteriors.There,thelimitationsoffunctionmettheambitionsofart,asthetimetableandthetimelesscommandedequalrespect.
ForalonghourIsatonandamidourpileofluggageatthestreetendofthenorthboundinterstateplatform.Itwassixo’clockintheevening,andthestationwasfilledwithpeople,luggage,bundlesofgoods,andanagriculturalassortmentofliveandrecentlydeceasedanimals.
Prabakerranintothecrowdsmillingbetweentwostationarytrains.ItwasthefifthtimeI’dwatchedhimleave.Andthen,afewminuteslater,forthefifthtime,Iwatchedhimrunback.
“ForGod’ssake,sitdown,Prabu.”
“Can’tbesitting,Lin.”
“Well,let’sgetonthetrain,then.”
“Can’tbegettingonalso,Lin.Itisnotnowthetimeforthegettingonthetrain.”
“So…whenwillitbethetimeforthegettingonthetrain?”
“Ithink…alittlebitalmostquiteverysoon,andnotlong.
Listen!Listen!”
Therewasanannouncement.Itmight’vebeeninEnglish.Itwasthekindofsoundanangrydrunkmakes,amplifiedthroughtheuniquedistortionsofmanyancient,cone-shapedspeakers.Ashelistenedtoit,Prabaker’sfacemovedfromapprehensiontoanguish.
“Now!Now,Lin!Quickly!Wemusthurry!Youmusthurry!”
“Hangon,hangon.You’vehadmesittingherelikeabrassBuddha,foranhour.Now,allofasudden,there’sabigrush,andIhavetohurry?”
“Yes,baba.NotimeformakingBuddha-begofpardonstotheHolyOne.Youmustmakeabigrush.He’scoming!Youmustbeready.
He’scoming!”
“Who’scoming?”
Prabakerturnedtolookalongtheplatform.Theannouncement,whateveritwas,hadgalvanisedthecrowdsofpeople,andtheyrushedattwostationarytrains,hurlingthemselvesandtheirbundlesintothedoorsandwindows.Fromthebroilingtangleofbodies,onemanemergedandwalkedtowardsus.Hewasahugeman,oneofthebiggestmenI’deverseen.Hewastwometrestall,wellmuscled,andhadalong,thickbeardthatsettledonhisburlychest.HeworetheBombaytrainporter’suniformofcap,shirt,andshorts,inroughred-and-khakilinen.
“Him!”Prabakersaid,staringatthegiantwithadmirationanddread.“Yougowiththismannow,Lin.”
Havinglongexperiencewithforeigners,theportertookcontrolofthesituation.Hereachedoutwithbothhands.Ithoughtthathewantedtoshakehands,soIextendedmyowninreturn.Hebrusheditasidewithalookthatleftmeinnodoubtastohowrepulsivehe’dfoundthegesture.Then,puttinghishandsundermyarmpits,heliftedmeupanddroppedmeoutofthewaytoonesideoftheluggage.
It’sadisconcerting,albeitexhilarating,experience,whenyouweigh90kilosyourself,tobeliftedupsoeffortlesslybyanotherman.Idetermined,thereandthen,toco-operatewiththeporterinsofarasitwasdecentlypossible.
Whilethebigmanliftedmyheavyback-packontohisheadandgathereduptherestofthebags,Prabakerputmeathisback,andseizedahandfuloftheman’sredlinenshirt.
“Here,Lin,takeitaholdonthisshirts,”heinstructedme.
“Holdit,andneverletitgo,thisshirts.Tellmeyourdeepandspecialpromise.Youwillneverletitgothisshirts.”
HisexpressionwassounusuallygraveandearnestthatInoddedinagreement,andtookholdoftheporter’sshirt.
“No,sayitalso,Lin!Saythewords-Iwillneverletitgothisshirts.Quickly!”
“Oh,forGod’ssake.Allright-Iwillneverletitgothisshirts.Areyousatisfied?”
“Goodbye,Lin,”Prabakershouted,runningoffintothemillandtumbleofthecrowd.
“What?What!Whereareyougoing?Prabu!Prabu!”
“Okay!Wegonow!”theporterrumbledandroaredinavoicethathe’dfoundinabear’scave,andcuredinthebarrelofarustedcannon.
Hewalkedoffintothecrowd,draggingmebehindhimandkickingoutwardsbyraisinghisthickkneeshighwitheverystep.Menscatteredbeforehim.Whentheydidn’tscatter,theywereknockedaside.
Bellowingthreats,insults,andcurses,hethumpedapaththroughthechokingthrong.Menfellandwerepushedasidewitheveryliftandthrustofhispowerfullegs.Inthecentreofthecrowd,thedinwassoloudthatIcouldfeelitdrummingonmyskin.
Peopleshoutedandscreamedasiftheywerethevictimsofaterribledisaster.Garbled,indecipherableannouncementsblaredfromtheloudspeakersoverourheads.Sirens,bells,andwhistleswailedconstantly.
Wereachedacarriagethatwas,likealltheothers,filledtoitscapacitywithasolidwallofbodiesinthedoorway.Itwasaseeminglyimpenetrablehumanbarrieroflegsandbacksandheads.
Astonished,andnotalittleashamed,Iclungtotheporterashehammeredhiswayintothecarriagewithhisindefatigableandirresistibleknees.
Hisrelentlessforwardprogressstopped,atonepoint,inthecentreofthecarriage.Iassumedthatthedensityofthecrowdhadhaltedeventhatjuggernautofaman.Iclungtotheshirt,determinednottolosemygriponhimwhenhestartedtomoveagain.Inallthefuriousnoiseofthecloyingpressofbodies,Ibecameawareofoneword,repeatedinaninsistentandtormentedmantra:Sarr…Sarr…Sarr…Sarr…Sarr…
Irealised,atlast,thatthevoicewasmyownporter’s.ThewordhewasrepeatingwithsuchdistresswasunrecognisabletomebecauseIwasn’tusedtobeingaddressedbyit:Sir.
“Sir!Sir!Sir!Sir!”heshouted.
IletgoofhisshirtandlookedaroundtofindPrabakerstretchedtohisfulllengthalonganentirebenchseat.He’dfoughthiswayaheadofusintothecarriagetoreserveaseat,andhewasguardingitwithhisbody.Hisfeetwerewrappedaroundtheaislearmrest.Hishandsclaspedthearmrestatthewindowend.Halfadozenmenhadcrammedthemselvesintothatpartofthecarriage,andeachtriedwithunstintingvigourandviolencetoremovehimfromtheseat.Theypulledhishair,punchedhisbody,kickedhim,andslappedathisface.Hewashelplessundertheonslaught;but,whenhiseyesmetmine,atriumphantsmileshonethroughhisgrimacesofpain.
Incensed,Ishovedthemenoutoftheway,grabbingthembyshirtcollars,andhurlingthemasidewiththestrengththatswarmsintothearmsofrighteousanger.Prabakerswunghisfeettothefloor,andIsatdownbesidehim.Abrawlstartedatoncefortheremainingspaceontheseat.Theporterdumpedtheluggageatourfeet.Hisfaceandhairandshirtwerewetwithsweat.HegavePrabakeranod,communicatinghisrespect.Itwasfullyequal,hisglaringeyesleftnodoubt,tothederisionhefeltforme.
Thenheshovedhiswaythroughthecrowd,roaringinsultsallthewaytothedoor.
“Howmuchdidyoupaythatguy?”
“Fortyrupees,Lin.”
Fortyrupees.Themanhadbattledhiswayintothecarriage,withallofourluggage,fortwoAmericandollars.
“Fortyrupees!”
“Yes,Lin,”Prabakersighed.“Itisveryexpensive.Butsuchgoodkneesareveryexpensive.Hehasfamousknees,thatfellow.Alotofguidesweremakingcompetitionforhistwoknees.ButIconvincedhimtohelpus,becauseItoldhimyouwere-I’mnotsurehowtosayitinEnglish-Itoldhimyouwerenotcompletelyrightonyourhead.”
“Mentallyretarded.YoutoldhimIwasmentallyretarded?”
“No,no,”hefrowned,consideringtheoptions.“Ithinkthatstupidismoreofthecorrectlyword.”
“Letmegetthisstraight-youtoldhimIwasstupid,andthat’swhyheagreedtohelpus.”
“Yes,”hegrinned.“Butnotjustalittleofstupid.Itoldhimyouwerevery,very,very,very,very-”
“Allright.Igetit.”
“Sothepricewastwentyrupeesforeachknees.Andnowwehaveitthisgoodseat.”
“Areyouallright?”Iasked,angrythathe’dallowedhimselftobehurtformysake.“Yes,baba.AfewbruisesIwillhaveonallmybodies,butnothingisbroken.”
“Well,whatthehelldidyouthinkyouweredoing?Igaveyoumoneyforthetickets.WecouldVesatdowninfirstorsecondclass,likecivilisedpeople.Whatarewedoingbackhere?”
Helookedatme,reproachanddisappointmentbrimminginhislarge,soft-browneyes.Hepulledasmallbundleofnotesfromhispockets,andhandedittome.
“Thisisthechangefromtheticketsmoney.Anybodycanbuyfirst-classtickets,Lin.Ifyouwanttobuyticketsinfirstclass,youcanbedoingthatallonyourselfonly.Youdon’tneeditaBombayguide,tobuyticketsincomfortable,emptycarriages.ButyouneedaveryexcellentBombayguide,likeme,likePrabakerKishanKharre,togetintothiscarriageatVT.
Station,andgetagoodseats,isn’tit?Thisismyjob.”
“Ofcourseitis,”Isoftened,stillangrywithhimbecauseIstillfeltguilty.“Butplease,fortherestofthistrip,don’tgetyourselfbeatenup,justsothatIcanhaveagoddamnseat,okay?”
Hereflectedforamomentwithafrownofconcentration,andthenbrightenedagain,hisfamiliarsmilerefulgentinthedimlylitcarriage.
“Ifitisabsolutelymustbeabeating,”hesaid,firmlyandamiablynegotiatingthetermsofhisemployment,“Iwillshoutevenmoreloudly,andyoucanrescuemybruisesinthenicksoftime.Areweadeal?”
“Weare,”Isighed,andthetrainsuddenlylurchedforwardandbegantogrinditswayoutoftheterminus.
Intheinstantthatthetrainstartedonitsjourney,thegouging,biting,andbrawlingceasedcompletelyandwerereplacedbyastudiedandgenteelcourtesythatpersistedthroughouttheentirejourney.
Amanoppositemeshiftedhisfeet,accidentallybrushinghisfootagainstmine.Itwasagentletouch,barelynoticeable,butthemanimmediatelyreachedouttotouchmykneeandthenhisownchestwiththefingertipsofhisrighthand,intheIndiangestureofapologyforanunintendedoffence.Inthecarriageandthecorridorbeyond,theotherpassengersweresimilarlyrespectful,sharing,andsolicitouswithoneanother.
Atfirst,onthatfirstjourneyoutofthecityintoIndia,Ifoundsuchsuddenpolitenessinfuriatingaftertheviolentscrambletoboardthetrain.Itseemedhypocriticalforthemtoshowsuchdeferentialconcernoveranudgewithafootwhen,minutesbefore,they’dallbutpushedoneanotheroutofthewindows.
Now,longyearsandmanyjourneysafterthatfirstrideonacrowdedruraltrain,Iknowthatthescrambledfightingandcourteousdeferencewerebothexpressionsoftheonephilosophy:thedoctrineofnecessity.Theamountofforceandviolencenecessarytoboardthetrain,forexample,wasnolessandnomorethantheamountofpolitenessandconsiderationnecessarytoensurethatthecrampedjourneywasaspleasantaspossibleafterwards.Whatisnecessary!ThatwastheunspokenbutimpliedandunavoidablequestioneverywhereinIndia.WhenIunderstoodthat,agreatmanyofthecharacteristicallyperplexingaspectsofpubliclifebecamecomprehensible:fromtheacceptanceofsprawlingslumsbycityauthorities,tothefreedomthatcowshadtoroamatrandominthemidstoftraffic;fromthetolerationofbeggarsonthestreets,totheconcatenatecomplexityofthebureaucracies;andfromthegorgeous,unashamedescapismofBollywoodmovies,totheaccommodationofhundredsofthousandsofrefugeesfromTibet,Iran,Afghanistan,Africa,andBangladesh,inacountrythatwasalreadytoocrowdedwithsorrowsandneedsofitsown.
Therealhypocrisy,Icametorealise,wasintheeyesandmindsandcriticismsofthosewhocamefromlandsofplenty,whereno-onehadtofightforaseatonatrain.Evenonthatfirsttrainride,IknewinmyheartthatDidierhadbeenrightwhenhe’dcomparedIndiaanditsbillionsoulstoFrance.Ihadanintuition,echoinghisthought,thatiftherewereabillionFrenchmenorAustraliansorAmericanslivinginsuchasmallspace,thefightingtoboardthetrainwouldbemuchmore,andthecourtesyafterwardsmuchless.
Andintruth,thepolitenessandconsiderationshownbythepeasantfarmers,travellingsalesmen,itinerantworkers,andreturningsonsandfathersandhusbandsdidmakeforanagreeablejourney,despitethecrampedconditionsandrelentlesslyincreasingheat.Everyavailablecentimetreofseatingspacewasoccupied,eventothesturdymetalluggageracksoverourheads.
Themeninthecorridortookturnstositorsquatonasectionoffloorthathadbeensetasideandcleanedforthepurpose.
Everymanfeltthepressofatleasttwootherbodiesagainsthisown.Yettherewasn’tasingledisplayofgrouchinessorbadtemper.
However,whenIsurrenderedmyseat,forfourhoursofthejourney,toanelderlymanwithashockofwhitehairandspectaclesasthickasthelensesonanarmyscout’sbinoculars,Prabakerwasprovokedtoanindignantexasperation.
“SohardIfoughtwithnicepeoplesforyourseat,Lin.Nowyougiveitup,likeaspitofpaanjuices,andstandupinthepassage,andonyourlegs,also.”
“Comeon,Prabu.He’sanoldguy.Ican’tlethimstandwhileIsit.”
“Thatiseasy-onlyyoudon’tlookatthatoldfellow,Lin.Ifheisstanding,don’tlookathimstanding.Thatishisbusinessonly,thatstanding,andnothingforyourseat.”
“It’sthewayIam,”Iinsisted,laughingself-consciouslyintheconversationhewasdirectingacrossthewholecarriageofinterestedfellowpassengers.
“SuchscratchesandbruisesIhaveitonmybodies,Lin,”hewhined,talkingtome,butappealingtothecuriousgallery.Heliftedhisshirtandsinglettodisplaywhatwasindeedaroughscratchandgatheringbruise.“Forthisoldfellowtoputtheleft-sidebuttocksontheseat,Ihavethesemanyscratchesandbruises.Forhisright-sidebuttocks,Ihavemorebruises,onmyothersidealso.Forhimtoputhistwo-sidesbuttocksontheseat,Iamallbruisingandscratchingonmybodies.Thisisaveryshame,Lin.ThatisallI’mtellingyou.Itisaveryshame.”
He’ddriftedbetweenEnglishandHindiuntilallofusknewthesubstanceofhiscomplaint.Everyoneofmyfellowpassengerslookedatmewithfrownsorhead-shakesofdisapproval.Thefiercestglanceofreproof,ofcourse,camefromtheelderlymanforwhomI’dsurrenderedmyseat.Heglaredatmemalevolentlyduringtheentirefourhours.Whenatlastherosetoleave,andIresumedmyseat,hemutteredsuchavilecursethattheotherpassengerssputteredintoguffawsoflaughter,andacoupleofthemcommiseratedwithmebypattingmyshoulderandback.
Throughthesleepynight,andintotherose-petaldawn,thetrainrattledon.Iwatchedandlistened,literallyrubbingshoulderswiththepeopleoftheinteriortownsandvillages.AndIlearnedmore,duringthosefourteenconstrictedandlargelysilenthoursinthecrowdedeconomy-classsection,communicatingwithoutlanguage,thanIcould’velearnedinamonthoftravellingfirstclass.
Nodiscoverypleasedmemore,onthatfirstexcursionfromthecity,thanthefulltranslationofthefamousIndianhead-wiggle.TheweeksI’dspentinBombaywithPrabakerhadtaughtmethattheshakingorwigglingoftheheadfromsidetoside-thatmostcharacteristicofIndianexpressivegestures-wastheequivalentofaforwardnodofthehead,meaningYes.I’dalsodiscernedthesubtlersensesofIagreewithyou,andYes,Iwouldlikethat.
WhatIlearned,onthetrain,wasthatauniversalmessageattachedtothegesture,whenitwasusedasagreeting,whichmadeituniquelyuseful.
Mostofthosewhoenteredtheopencarriagegreetedtheotherseatedorstandingmenwithalittlewiggleofthehead.Thegesturealwaysdrewareciprocalwagoftheheadfromatleastone,andsometimesseveralofthepassengers.Iwatchedithappenatstationafterstation,knowingthatthenewcomerscouldn’tbeindicatingYes,orIagreewithyouwiththehead-wigglebecausenothinghadbeensaid,andtherewasnoexchangeotherthanthegestureitself.Gradually,Irealisedthatthewiggleoftheheadwasasignaltoothersthatcarriedanamiableanddisarmingmessage:I’mapeacefulman.Idon’tmeananyharm.
Movedbyadmirationandnosmallenvyforthemarvellousgesture,Iresolvedtotryitmyself.Thetrainstoppedatasmallruralstation.Astrangerjoinedourgroupinthecarriage.Whenoureyesmetforthefirsttime,Igavethelittlewiggleofmyhead,andasmile.Theresultwasastounding.ThemanbeamedasmileatmesohugethatitwashalfthebrillianceofPrabaker’sown,andsettosuchenergeticheadwagglinginreturnthatIwas,atfirst,alittlealarmed.Byjourney’send,however,I’dhadenoughpracticetoperformthemovementascasuallyasothersinthecarriagedid,andtoconveythegentlemessageofthegesture.ItwasthefirsttrulyIndianexpressionmybodylearned,anditwasthebeginningofatransformationthathasruledmylife,inallthelongyearssincethatjourneyofcrowdedhearts.
WelefttherailwayatJalgaon,aregionalcentrethatboastedwidestreetsofcommerceandbustle.Itwasnineo’clock,andthemorningrushwasinrumble,roll,rattle,andswing.Rawmaterials-iron,glass,wood,textiles,andplastic-werebeingunloadedfromthetrainasweleftthestation.Arangeofproducts,frompotterytoclothingtohand-woventatamimats,wasarrivingatthestationfordispatchtothecities.
Thearomaoffresh,highlyspicedfoodstirredmyappetite,butPrabakerurgedmeontothebusterminal.Infact,theterminalwassimplyavastopenpatchofroughgroundthatservedasastagingareafordozensoflong-distancecoaches.Wedriftedfrombustobusforhalfanhour,carryingourbulkyluggage.Icouldn’treadtheHindiandMarathitextsonthefrontandsideofeachbus.
Prabakercouldreadthesigns,butstillhefeltitnecessarytoaskeverydriverabouthisdestination.
“Doesn’tittellyouwhereeverybusisgoing,onthefrontofthebus?”Idemanded,irritatedbythedelay.
“Yes,Lin.See,thisonesaysAurangabad,andthatonesaysAjanta,andthatonesaysChalisgao,andthatonesays-”
“Yeah,yeah.So…whydowehavetoaskeverydriverwherehe’sgoing?”
“Oh!”heexclaimed,genuinelysurprisedbythequestion.“Becausenoteverysignisatrulysign.”
“Whatdoyoumean,notatrulysign?”
Hestopped,puttingdownhisshareoftheluggage,andofferedmeasmileofindulgentpatience.
“Well,Lin,yousee,someofthosedrivingfellowsaregoingtoplacesthatisnobodywantstogoto.Littleplaces,theyare,withafewpeopleonly.So,theyputasignforamorepopularplace.”
“You’retellingmethattheyputasignupsayingthey’regoingtoabigtown,wherelotsofpeoplewanttogo,butthey’rereallygoingsomewhereelse,wherenobodywantstogo?”
“That’sright,Lin,”hebeamed.
“Why?”
“Yousee,becausethosepeoplewhocometothem,togotothepopularplace,well,maybethedrivercanconvincethemtogotothenot-popularplace.It’sforbusiness,Lin.It’sabusinessthing.”
“That’scrazy,”Isaid,exasperated.
“Youmusthaveitabitofsympathiesforthesefellows,Lin.Iftheyputthetrulysignontheirbus,no-onewilltalktothem,inthewholeday,andtheywillbeverylonely.”
“Oh,well,nowIunderstand,”Imuttered,sarcastically.“Wewouldn’twantthemtofeellonely.”
“Iknow,Lin,”Prabakersmiled.“Youhaveaverygoodheartsinyourbodies.”
Whenatlastwedidboardabus,itseemedthatourswasoneofthepopulardestinations.Thedriverandhisassistantinterrogatedthepassengers,todeterminepreciselywhereeachmanorwomanintendedtosetdown,beforeallowingthemtoenterthebus.
Thosetravellingthefurthestwerethendirectedtofilltherearseats.Therapidlyaccumulatingpilesofluggage,children,andlivestockfilledtheaisletoshoulderheight,andeventuallythreepassengerscrowdedintoeveryseatdesignedfortwo.
BecauseIhadanaisleseat,Iwasrequiredtotakemyturnatpassingvariousitems,frombundlestobabies,backwardsovertheloadedaisle.Theyoungfarmerwhopassedthefirstitemtomehesitatedforamoment,staringintomygreyeyes.WhenIwiggledmyheadfromsidetoside,andsmiled,hegrinnedinreturnandhandedthebundletome.Bythetimethebusrolledoutofthebusyterminal,Iwasacceptingsmilesandhead-wigglesfromeverymaninsight,andwagglingandwigglingattheminreturn.
Thesignbehindthedriver’shead,inlargeredlettersinMarathiandEnglish,saidthatthebuswasstrictlylicensedtoseatforty-eightpassengers.No-oneseemedconcernedthatwewereseventypassengers,andtwoorthreetonsofcargo.TheoldBedfordbusswayedonitsexhaustedspringslikeatugboatinastormtide.Creaksandgroansandsqueaksissuedfromthetop,sides,andfloorofthebus,andthebrakessquealedalarminglywitheveryapplication.Nevertheless,whenthebusleftthecitylimits,thedrivermanagedtocrankituptoeightyorninetykilometresperhour.Giventhenarrowroad,theprecipitousfallonthelowside,thefrequentcolumnsofpeopleandanimalsthatlinedthehighside,thetitanicmassofourswayingarkofabus,andthevertiginoushostilitywithwhichthedrivernegotiatedeverycurve,thespeedwassufficienttorelievemeoftheneedtosleeporrelaxontheride.
Duringthefollowingthreehoursofthatperilousacceleration,werosetothepeakofaridgeofmountainsmarkingtheedgeofavastplateau,knownastheDeccan,anddescendedoncemoretofertileplainswithintherimoftheplateau.Withprayersofgratitude,andanewappreciationforthefragilegiftoflife,weleftthatfirstbusatasmall,dusty,desertedstopthatwasmarkedonlybyatatteredflagflappingfromthebranchofaslendertree.Withinanhourasecondbusstopped.
“Gorakaunhain?”thedriverasked,whenweclimbedaboardthestep.Who’sthewhiteguy?
“Mazamitraahey,”Prabakeransweredwithcontrivednonchalance,tryinginvaintodisguisehispride.He’smyfriend.
TheexchangewasinMarathi,thelanguageofMaharashtraState,whichhasBombayasitscapital.Ididn’tunderstandmuchofitthen,butthesamequestionsandanswerswererepeatedsooftenduringthosevillagemonthsthatIlearnedmostofthephrases,withsomevariations,byheart.
“What’shedoinghere?”
“He’svisitingmyfamily.”
“Where’shefrom?”
“NewZealand,”Prabakerreplied.
“NewZealand?”
“Yes.NewZealand.InEurope.”
“PlentyofmoneyinNewZealand?”
“Yes,yes.Plenty.They’reallrich,whitepeoplethere.”
“DoeshespeakMarathi?”
“No.”
“Hindi?”
“No.OnlyEnglish.”
“OnlyEnglish?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Theydon’tspeakHindiinhiscountry.”
“Theydon’tspeakHindithere?”
“No.”
“NoMarathi?NoHindi?”
“No.OnlyEnglish.”
“HolyFather!Thepoorfool.”
“Yes.”
“Howoldishe?”
“Thirty.”
“Helooksolder.”
“Theyalldo.AlltheEuropeanslookolderandangrierthantheyreallyare.It’sawhitething.”
“Ishemarried?”
“No.”
“Notmarried?Thirty,andnotmarried?What’swrongwithhim?”
“He’sEuropean.Alotofthemgetmarriedonlywhenthey’reold.”
“That’scrazy.”
“Yes.”
“Whatjobdoeshedo?”
“He’sateacher.”
“Ateacherisgood.”
“Yes.”
“Doeshehaveamotherandafather?”
“Yes.”
“Wherearethey?”
“Inhisnativeplace.NewZealand.”
“Whyisn’thewiththem?”
“He’stravelling.He’slookingatthewholeworld.”
“Why?”
“Europeansdothat.Theyworkforawhile,andthentheytravelaround,lonely,forawhile,withnofamily,untiltheygetold,andthentheygetmarried,andbecomeveryserious.”
“That’scrazy.”
“Yes.”
“Hemustbelonely,withouthismummyandhisdaddy,andwithnowifeandchildren.”
“Yes.ButtheEuropeansdon’tmind.Theygetalotofpracticebeinglonely.”
“Hehasabigstrongbody.”
“Yes.”
“Averystrongbody.”
“Yes.”
“Makesureyoufeedhimproperly,andgivehimplentyofmilk.”
“Yes.”
“Buffalomilk.”
“Yes,yes.”
“Andmakesurehedoesn’tlearnanybadwords.Don’tteachhimanyswearing.Thereareplentyofarseholesandbastardsaroundwhowillteachhimthewrongsisterfuckingwords.Keephimawayfrommotherfuckerslikethat.”
“Iwill.”
“Anddon’tletanyonetakeadvantageofhim.Hedoesn’tlooktoobright.Keepaneyeonhim.”“He’sbrighterthanhelooks,butyes,Iwilllookafterhim.”
Ittroublednoneoftheotherpassengersonthebusthattheconversationofseveralminuteshadtakenplacebeforewecouldboardthebusandmoveoff.ThedriverandPrabakerhadmadesuretospeakatavolumeadequatetothetaskofincludingeveryoneinthebus.Indeed,oncewewereunderway,thedriversoughttoincludeeventhoseoutsidethebusinthenoveltyoftheexperience.Wheneverhespiedmenandwomenstrollingontheroad,hesoundedthehorntodrawtheirattention,gesticulatedwithhisthumbtoindicatetheforeignerintherearofthebus,andslowedtoacrawl,sothateachpedestriancouldexaminemewithsatisfactorythoroughness.
Withsuchdemocraticrationingoftheastoundingnewattraction,thejourneyofonehourtookclosertotwo,andwearrivedatthedustyroadtoSundervillageinthelateafternoon.Thebusgroanedandheavedaway,leavingusinasilencesoprofoundthatthebreezeagainstmyearswaslikeachild’ssleepywhisper.
We’dpassedcountlessfieldsofmaizeandbananagrovesinthelasthourofthebusride,andthenonfootwetrudgedalongthedirtroadbetweenendlessrowsofmilletplants.Almostfullygrown,theplantswerewelloverhead-height,andinafewminutesofthewalkweweredeepwithinathick-walledlabyrinth.
Thewideskyshranktoasmallarcofblue,andthewayaheadorbehindusdissolvedintocurvesofgreenandgold,likecurtainsdrawnacrossthelivingstageoftheworld.
I’dbeenpreoccupiedforsometime,naggedbysomethingthatitseemedIshould’veknownorrealised.Thethought,halfsubmerged,troubledmeforthebestpartofanhourbeforeitswamintothefieldofvisionofmymind’seye.Notelegraphpoles.Nopowerpoles.FormostofthathourI’dseennosignofelectricpower–notevendistantpowerlines.
“Isthereelectricityinyourvillage?”
“Oh,no,”Prabakergrinned.
“Noelectricity?”
“No.None.”
Therewassilence,foratime,asIslowlyturnedoffalltheappliancesI’dcometoregardasessential.Noelectriclight.Noelectrickettle.Notelevision.Nohi-fi.Noradio.Nomusic.Ididn’tevenhaveaWalkmanwithme.HowwouldIlivewithoutmusic?“WhatamIgoingtodowithoutmusic?”Iasked,awareofhowpatheticIsounded,butunabletosuppressthewhineofdisappointmentinmyvoice.
“Therewillbemusicfull,baba,”heansweredcheerfully.“Iwillsing.Everybodywillsing.Wewillsingandsingandsing.”
“Oh.Well.NowIfeelallright.”
“Andyouwillsing,too,Lin.”
“Don’tcountonit,Prabu.”
“Inthevillage,everybodysings,”hesaidwithsuddenseriousness.
“U-huh.”
“Yes.Everybody.”
“Let’scrossthatbridgeandchoruswhenwecometoit.Howmuchfurtherisittothevillage?”
“Oh,justalittlebitalmostnottooveryfar.Andyouknow,nowwehavewaterinourvillagealso.”
“Whatdoyoumean,nowyouhavewater?”
“WhatImeanis,thereisonetapinthevillagenow.”
“Onetap.Forthewholevillage.”
“Yes.Andthewateriscomingoutofitforonewholehour,attwoo’clockineveryafternoon.”
“Onewholehourperday…”
“Oh,yes.Well,onmostdays.Somedaysitisonlycomingforhalfanhour.Somedaysitisnotcomingoutatall.Thenwegobackandscrapethegreenstuffoffthetopofthewaterinthewell,andwearenoproblemforwater.Ah!Look!Hereismyfather!”
Aheadofus,ontheramblingandweedypath,wasanox-cart.Theox,ahugecurve-hornedbeast,thecolourofcafelatte,wasshackledtoatall,basket-shapedcartmountedontwowooden,steel-rimmedwheels.Thewheelswerenarrowbuthigh,reachingtomyshoulder.Smokingabeediecigaretteandsittingontheox-bowyoke,hislegsdanglingfree,wasPrabaker’sfather.
KishanMangoKharrewasatinyman,shortereventhanPrabaker,withveryclose-croppedgreyhair,ashort,greymoustache,andaprominentpaunchonhisotherwiseslenderframe.Heworethewhitecap,cottonkurtahshirt,anddhotiofthefarmercaste.
Thedhotiistechnicallydescribedasaloincloth,butthetermrobsthegarmentofitssereneandgracefulelegance.Itcanbegathereduptobecomeworkshortsforlabourinthefields,orloosenedtobecomepantaloon-styletrouserswiththeanklesfree.Thedhotiitselfisalwaysmoving,anditfollowsthehumancontourineveryactfromrunningtosittingstill.Itcaptureseverybreezeatnoon,andkeepsoutthedawnchill.It’smodestandpractical,yetflatteringandattractiveatthesametime.GandhigavethedhotiprominenceonhistripstoEurope,inthestruggleforIndianindependencefromEngland.WithallduerespecttotheMahatma,however,it’snotuntilyouliveandworkwithIndia’sfarmersthatyoufullyappreciatethegentleandennoblingbeautyofthatsimplewrapoffabric.
Prabakerdroppedhisbagsandranforward.Hisfathersprangfromhisseatontheyoke,andtheyembracedshyly.Theolderman’ssmilewastheonlysmileI’veeverseenthatrivalledPrabaker’sown.Itwasavastsmile,usingthewholeoftheface,asifhe’dbeenfrozeninthemiddleofabellylaugh.WhenPrabakerturnedtofaceme,besidehisfather,subjectingmetoadoubledoseofthegiganticsmile-theoriginal,anditsslightlygrandergeneticcopy-theeffectwassooverwhelmingthatIfoundmyselfgrinninghelplesslyinreturn.
“Lin,thisismyfather,KishanMangoKharre.Andfather,thisisMr.Lin.Iamhappy,toomuchhappy,thatyouaremeetingeachother’sgoodselves.”
Weshookhands,andstaredintooneanother’seyes.Prabakerandhisfatherhadthesamealmostperfectlyroundfaceandthesameupturned,buttonnose.However,wherePrabaker’sfacewascompletelyopen,guileless,andunlined,hisfather’sfacewasdeeplywrinkled;andwhenhewasn’tsmiling,therewasawearyshadowthatclosedoverhiseyes.Itwasasifhe’dsealedshutsomedoorsinhimself,andstoodguardoverthem,withhiseyesalone.Therewasprideinhisface,buthewassad,andtired,andworried.Ittookmealongtimetorealisethatallfarmers,everywhere,arejustastired,worried,proud,andsad:thatthesoilyouturnandtheseedyousowareallyoureallyhave,whenyouliveandworktheEarth.Andsometimes,muchtoooften,there’snothingmorethanthat-thesilent,secret,heartbreakingjoyGodputsintothingsthatbloomandgrow-tohelpyoufacethefearofhungerandthedreadofevil.
“Myfatherisaverysuccessman,”Prabakerbeamed,proudly,hisarmaroundtheolderman’sshoulders.IspokeverylittleMarathi,andKishanspokenoEnglish,soPrabakerrepeatedeverythinginbothlanguages.Hearingthephraseinhisownlanguage,Kishanliftedhisshirtwithagraceful,artlessflourish,andpattedathishairypot-belly.
Hiseyesglitteredashespoketome,wagglinghisheadallthewhileinwhatseemedtobeanunnervinglyseductiveleer.
“Whatdidhesay?”
“Hewantsyoutopathistummies,”Prabakerexplained,grinning.
Kishangrinnedaswidely.
“Idon’tthinkso.”
“Oh,yes,Lin.Hewantsyoutopathistummies.”
“No.”
“Hereallywantsyoutogiveitapat,”hepersisted.
“TellhimI’mflattered,andIthinkit’safinetummies.ButtellhimIthinkI’llpass,Prabu.”
“Justgiveitalittlepat,Lin.”
“No,”Isaid,morefirmly.
Kishan’sgrinwidened,andheraisedhiseyebrowsseveraltimes,inencouragement.Hestillheldtheshirtuptohischest,exposingtheround,hairypaunch.
“Goon,Lin.Afewpatsonly.Itwon’tbiteyou,myfather’stummies.”
Sometimesyouhavetosurrender,Karlasaid,beforeyouwin.Andshewasright.SurrenderisattheheartoftheIndianexperience.Igavein.Glancingaroundme,onthedesertedtrack,Ireachedoutandpattedthewarmandfuzzybelly.
Justthen,ofcourse,thetallgreenstalksofmilletbesideusonthepathseparatedtorevealfourdarkbrownfaces.Theywereyoungmen.Theystaredatus,theireyeswidewiththekindofamazementthat’safraid,appalled,anddelightedatthesametime.
Slowly,andwithasmuchdignityasIcouldmuster,IwithdrewmyhandfromKishan’sstomach.Helookedatme,andthenattheothers,withoneeyebrowraisedandthecornersofhismouthdrawndownintothesmugsmileofapoliceprosecutor,restinghiscase.
“Idon’twanttointrudeonyourdad’smomenthere,Prabu,butdon’tyouthinkweshouldbegettingalong?”
“Challo!”Kishanannounced,makingaguessatthemeaningofmywords._Let’s_go!
Asweloadedourgearandclimbedintothebackofthecart,Kishantookhisseatontheyokeattachedtotheox-bow,raisedalongbamboostickthathadanaildrivenintotheendofit,andmovedusoffwithatremendousblowtotheanimal’shaunches.
Respondingtotheviolentblow,theoxgavealurchforward,andthensetoffwithponderous,thuddingslowness.Oursteadybutverysluggishprogresscausedmetowonderatthechoiceofthatbeast,aboveothers,toperformthetask.ItseemedtomethattheIndianox,knownasthebailie,wassurelytheslowestharnessanimalintheworld.IfI’dclimbeddownfromthecart,andwalkedatamoderatepace,Iwould’vedoubleditsspeed.Infact,thepeoplewho’dstaredatusthroughthemilletplantswererushingaheadthroughthedensecropsatthesidesofthepathtoannounceourarrival.
Everytwentytofiftymetresorso,newfacesappearedbetweenthepartedstalksofmaize,corn,andmillet.Theexpressiononthosefaceswasalwaysthesame-frank,stupefying,goggle-eyedamazement.IfPrabakerandhisfatherhadcapturedawildbear,andtrainedittospeak,thepeoplecouldn’thavereactedwithmoregape-mouthedastonishment.
“Thepeoplearetoohappy,”Prabakerlaughed.“Youarethefirstpersonfromforeigntovisitmyvillageintwenty-oneyears.ThelastforeignfellowcomingherewasfromBelgian.Thatwastwenty-oneyearsago.Allthepeoplewhoarelessthantwenty-oneyearsoldhaveneverseenaforeignerwiththeirowneyes.Thatlastfellow,thatonefromBelgian,hewasagoodman.Butyouareavery,verygoodman,Lin.Thepeoplewillloveyoutoomuch.Youwillbesohappyhere,youwillbeoutsideyourself.
Youwillsee.”
Thepeoplewhostaredatmefromthegrovesandbushesatthesideoftheroadseemedmoreanguishedandthreatenedthanhappy.
Inthehopeofdispellingthattrepidation,IbegantopractisemyIndianhead-wiggle.Thereactionwasimmediate.Thepeoplesmiled,laughed,wiggledtheirheadsinreturn,andranahead,shoutingtotheirneighboursabouttheentertainingspectaclethatwasploddingalongthetracktowardsthem.
Toensuretheunflaggingprogressoftheox,Kishanbeattheanimalfiercelyandoften.Thestickroseandfellwitharesoundingsmackatregularintervalsofminutes.Therhythmofthoseheavyblowswaspunctuatedbysharpjabsattheanimal’sflankswiththenailattachedtotheendofthestick.Eachthrustpenetratedthethickhide,andraisedalittletuftofcreambrownfur.
Theoxdidn’treacttothoseassaults,otherthantocontinueitslumbering,drag-footedadvancealongthepath.Nevertheless,Isufferedforthebeast.EachblowandjabaccumulatedwithinmysympathyuntilitwasmorethanIcouldbear.
“Prabu,domeafavour,pleaseaskyourfathertostophittingtheanimal.”
“Stop…stophitting!”
“Yeah.Askhimtostophittingtheox,please.”
“No,itisnotpossible,Lin,”hereplied,laughing.
Thestickslammedintothebroadbackoftheox,andwasfollowedbytwoquickjabsofthenail.
“Imeanit,Prabu.Pleaseaskhimtostop.”
“But,Lin…”
Iflinched,asthestickcamedownagain,andmyexpressionpleadedwithhimtointervene.
Reluctantly,Prabakerpassedonmyrequesttohisfather.Kishanlistenedintently,andthenlaughedhelplesslyinafitofgiggles.Afteratime,heperceivedhisson’sdistress,however,andthelaughtersubsided,andfinallydied,inaflurryofquestions.Prabakerdidhisbesttoanswerthem,butatlastheturnedhisincreasinglyforlornexpressiontomeoncemore.
“Myfather,Lin,hewantstoknowwhyyouwanthimtostopusingthestick.”
“Idon’twanthimtohurttheox.”
ThistimePrabakerlaughed,andwhenhewasabletotranslatemywordsforhisfather,theybothlaughed.Theytalkedforawhile,stilllaughing,andthenPrabakeraddressedmeagain.
“Myfatherisasking,isittruethatinyourcountrypeopleareeatingcows?”
“Well,yes,it’strue.But…”
“Howmanyofthecowsdoyoueatthere?”
“We…well…weexportthemfrommycountry.Wedon’teatthemallourselves.”
“Howmany?”
“Oh,hundredsofthousandsofthem.Maybemillions,ifyoucountthesheep.Butweusehumanemethods,andwedon’tbelieveinunnecessarilyhurtingthem.”
“Myfatherissaying,hethinksitisveryhardto_eatoneofthesebiganimals,withouthurtingit.”HethensoughttoexplainmynaturetohisfatherbyrecountingforhimthestoryofhowI’dgivenupmyseat,onthetrainjourney,toallowanelderlymantosit,howIsharedmyfruitandotherfoodwithmyfellowpassengers,andhowIoftengavetobeggarsonthestreetsofBombay.
Kishanpulledthecarttoasuddenstop,andjumpeddownfromthewoodenyoke.HefiredastreamofcommandsatPrabaker,whofinallyturnedtometotranslate.
“Myfatherwantstoknowifwehaveitanypresentswithus,fromBombay,forhimandthefamily.Itoldhimwedid.Nowhewantsustogiveitthosepresentstohimhere,andinthisplace,beforewegoanymorealongtheroad.”
“Hewantsustogothroughourbags,here,onthistrack?”
“Yes.HeisafraidthatwhenwegettoSundervillage,youwillhaveagoodhearts,andgiveitawayallthosepresentstootherpeople,andhewillnotgethispresents.Hewantsitallhispresentsnow.”
Sowedid.Undertheindigobannerofearly-eveningsky,onthescratchoftrackbetweenfieldsofundulantmaizeandmillet,wespreadoutthecoloursofIndia,theyellowsandredsandpeacockbluesofshirtsandlungiwrapsandsaris.Thenwerepackedthem,withfragrantsoapsandsewingneedles,incenseandsafetypins,perfumeandshampooandmassageoils,sothatonefullbagcontainedonlythosethingswe’dbroughtforPrabaker’sfamily.
Withthatbagsafelytuckedbehindhimontherailsoftheox-cartharness,KishanMangoKharrelaunchedusonthelastlegofourjourneybystrikingthedumblypatientoxmoreoften,andwithagooddealmorevigour,thanhe’ddonebeforeItriedtointercedeonitsbehalf.
Andthen,atlast,itwasthevoicesofwomenandchildren,raisedinlaughterandcriesofexcitement,thatwelcomedus.ThesoundsreachedusmomentsbeforeweturnedthelastsharpcurveandenteredthevillageofSunderalongasingle,widestreetofswept,pressed,goldenriversand.Oneithersidewerethehouses,distributedsothatnohousefacedintoanotheracrossthestreet.Thehouseswereround,madeofpalebrownmud,withroundwindowsandcurveddoors.Theroofsweremadewithlittledomesofthatchedgrasses.
Wordhadspreadthattheforeignerwasarriving.ThetwohundredsoulsofSundervillagehadbeenjoinedbyhundredsmorefromneigh-bouringvillages.Kishandroveusintothethrong,stoppingoutsidehisownhome.Hewasgrinningsowidelythateveryonewholookedathimwasmovedtolaughinreturn.
Weclimbeddownfromthecart,andstoodwithourluggageatourfeetinthecentreofsixhundredstaresandwhispers.Abreath-filledsilencesettledonthecrowd,packedsotightlythateachonepresseduponhisneighbour.TheyweresoclosetomethatIcouldfeelthebreathuponmyface.Sixhundredpairsofeyesfixedmewiththeintensityoftheirfascination.No-onespoke.
Prabakerwasatmyside,andalthoughhesmiledandenjoyedthecelebritythatthemomentgavehim,hetoowasawedbythepressofattentionandthesurroundingwallofwondermentandexpectation.
“Isupposeyou’rewonderingwhyI’vecalledyouallhere,”Isaid,injusttheserioustoneofvoicethatwould’vebeenfunnyifthere’dbeenasinglepersoninthecrowdwhounderstoodthejoke.No-onedid,ofcourse,andthesilencethickened,aseventhefaintmurmursdiedaway.
Whatdoyousaytoahugecrowdofstrangerswhoarewaitingforyoutosaysomething,andwhodon’tspeakyourlanguage?
Mybackpackwasatmyfeet.Inthetopflappockettherewasasouvenirthatafriendhadgivenme.Itwasajester’scap,inblackandwhite,completewithbellsontheendsofitsthreeclothhorns.Thefriend,anactorinNewZealand,hadmadethejester’scapaspartofacostume.Attheairport,withminutestogobeforemyflighttoIndia,he’dgivenmethecapasagoodluckcharm,aremembranceofhim,andI’dstuffeditintothetopofmybackpack.
There’sakindofluckthat’snotmuchmorethanbeingintherightplaceattherighttime,akindofinspirationthat’snotmuchmorethandoingtherightthingintherightway,andbothonlyreallyhappentoyouwhenyouemptyyourheartofambition,purpose,andplan;whenyougiveyourself,completely,tothegolden,fate-filledmoment.
Itookthejester’scapoutofthepackandputiton,pullingittightundermychin,andstraighteningtheclothhornswithmyfingers.Everyoneatthefrontofthecrowddrewbackwithalittleinrushinggaspofalarm.ThenIsmiled,andwiggledmyhead,ringingthebells.
“Hello,folks!”Isaid.“It’sshowtime!”
Theeffectwaselectrifying.Everyonelaughed.Theentiregroupofwomen,children,andmeneruptedasone,laughingandjokingandcry-ingout.Onepersonreachedouttotouchmeontheshoulder.Thechildrenatthefrontreachedformyhands.Theneveryonewithingraspingdistancepatted,stroked,andgrabbedme.IcaughtPrabaker’seye.ThelookofjoyandprideIfoundtherewasakindofprayer.
Hepermittedthegentleassaultforsomeminutes,andthenassertedhisauthorityoverthenewattractionbyclearingthecrowdaway.Hesucceeded,atlast,inopeningthewaytohisfather’shouseand,asweenteredthedarkcircleofKishan’shome,thechattering,laughingcrowdbegantodisperse.
“Youmusthaveabath,Lin.Aftersuchalongtravelyoumustbesmellingunhappy.Comethisway.Mysistershavealreadyheatedthewateronthefire.Thepotsarereadyforyourbath.Come.”
Wepassedthroughalowarch,andheledmetoanareabesidethehousethatwasenclosedonthreesidesbyhangingtatamimats.
Flatriverstonesformedashowerbase,andthreelargeclaypotsofwarmwaterwerearrangednearthem.Achannelhadbeendugandsmoothedout,allowingwatertorunoffbehindthehouse.
Prabakertoldmethatasmallbrassjugwastobeusedtotipwaterovermybody,andgavemethesoapdish.
I’dbeenunlacingmybootswhilehespoke,andIcastthemaside,threwoffmyshirt,andpulledoffmyjeans.
“Lin!”Prabakerscreamedinpanic,leaping,inasinglebound,acrossthetwometresthatseparatedus.Hetriedtocovermybodywithhishands,butthenlookedaroundinanguishtoseethatthetowelwasonmybackpack,afurthertwometresaway.Hejumpedforthetowel,snatcheditup,andjumpedback,givingalittleshoutofpanic-Yaaah!-eachtime.Hewrappedthetowelaroundme,andlookedaroundinterror.
“Haveyougonecrazy,Lin?Whatareyoudoing?”
“I’mtryingto…takeashower…”
“Butlikethat?Likethat?”
“What’sthematterwithyou,Prabu?Youtoldmetotakeashower.
Youbroughtmeheretohaveashower.So,I’mtryingtotakeashower,butyou’rejumpingaroundlikearabbit.What’syourproblem?”
“Youwerenaked,Lin!Naked,withoutanyclothesalso!”
“That’showItakeashower,”Isaid,exasperatedbyhismysteriousterror.Hewasdartingabout,peeringthroughthetatamimattingatvariousplaces.“That’showeveryonetakesashower,isn’tit?”“No!No!No,Lin!”hecorrected,returningtofaceme.Adesperateexpressioncontortedhisnormallyhappyfeatures.
“Youdon’ttakeyourclothesoff?”
“No,Lin!ThisisIndia.Nobodycantakehisclothesoff,noteventowashhisbodies.ThisisIndia.NobodyisevernakedinIndia.Andespecially,nobodyisnakedwithoutclothes.”
“So…howdoyoutakeashower?”
“Wewearittheunderpants,forhavingabathinIndia.”
“Well,that’sfine,”Isaid,droppingthetoweltorevealmyblackjockeyshorts.“I’mwearingunderpants.”
“Yaaah!”Prabakerscreamed,divingforthetowelandcoveringmeagain.
“Thoseteenypieces,Lin?Thosearenottheunderpants.Thosearetheunder-underpantsonly.Youmusthaveittheover-underpants.”
“The…over-underpants?”
“Yes.Certainly.Likethese,myones,thatIamwearing.”
Heunbuttonedhisowntrousersenoughtoshowmethatheworeapairofgreenshortsunderhisclothes.
“InIndia,themenarewearingthisover-underpants,undertheirclothes,atalltimes,andinallthesituations.Eveniftheyarewearingunder-underpants,stilltheyarewearingover-underpants,overtheirunders.Yousee?”
“No.”
“Well,justyouwaithere.Iwillgetyousomeover-underpantsforyourbath.Butdon’tremoveyourtowel.Please!Promise!Ifthepeopleseeyouwithoutthetowel,insuchteenypieces,theywillbelikeawildpeople.Waithere!”
Hedartedoff,andafterafewminutesreturnedwithtwopairsofredfootballshorts.
“Here,Lin,”hepuffed.“Youaresuchabigfellow,Ihopewecangetagoodfits.ThesearefromFatSatish.Heissofat,Ithinktheymightfityou.Itoldhimastory,andthenhegaveitthistwopairsforyou.Itoldhimthatonthejourneyyouhadloosemotions,andyoumadesuchamessinyourover-underpantsthatwehadtothrowthemaway.”
“Youtoldhim,”Iasked,“thatIshitmypants?”
“Oh,yes,Lin.Icertainlycouldn’ttellhimthatyouhavenoover-underpants!”“Well,ofcoursenot.”
“Imean,whatwouldhebethinkingaboutyou?”
“Thankyou,Prabu,”Imuttered,throughclenchedteeth.IfmytonehadbeenanydrierIwouldn’thaveneededatowel.
“Thatismypleasure,Lin.Iamyourverygoodfriend.Soplease,promisemethatyouwillnotbenakedinIndia.Especiallynotwithoutyourclothes.”
“Ipromise.”
“Iamsogladyoumakethispromise,Lin.Youaremyverygoodfriend,too,isn’tit?NowIwilltakeabathalso,likewearetwobrothers,andIwillshowyoutheIndianstyle.”
So,webothtookashower,inthebathingareaofhisfather’shouse.Watchinghim,andfollowinghislead,Iwetmybodyinafirstrinsewithtwojugsofwaterfromoneofthelargepots,andworkedthesoapbeneathmyshortswithoutevertakingthemoff.Afterthefinalrinse,andaquickdryoffwiththetowel,hetaughtmehowtotiealungiaroundthewetshorts.Thelungiwasasarong-likerectangleofcotton,wornfromwaisttoankle.
Hegatheredtwolongendsorcornersofthelungiatthefront,andthenpassedthemaroundmywaist,androlledthemunderthetopedge,inthesmallofmyback.Withintheencirclinglungi,Iremovedanddiscardedmywetshortsandslippedonadrypairofshortsunderneath.Withthattechnique,Prabakerassuredme,Icouldtakeashowerintheopen,andnotoffendhisneighbours.
Aftertheshower,andadeliciousmealofdhal,rice,andhomemadeflatbreads,PrabakerandIwatchedashisparentsandhistwosistersopenedtheirpresents.Wedrankteathen,andfortwohoursweansweredquestionsaboutme,andmyhomeandfamily.
Itriedtoanswertruthfully-withoutthecrucialtruththatinmyhuntedexile,Ididn’tthinkIwouldeverseemyhomeorfamilyagain.Atlast,Prabakerannouncedthathewastootiredtotranslateanymore,andthatIshouldbepermittedtorest.
Abedmadefromthewoodofcoconuttreesandwithastretchedmattress,formedfromawebofcoconut-fibrerope,wassetupformeintheopen,outsideKishan’shouse.ItwasKishan’sownbed.
Prabakertoldmethatitmighttaketwodaystohaveanewonemadetohisfather’ssatisfaction.UntilthenKishanwouldsleepbesidehissononthefloorofthehouse,whileIusedhisbed.Itriedtoresist,butmyprotestsdrownedintheseaoftheirgentle,relentlessinsistence.SoIlaydownonthepoorfarmer’sbed,andmyfirstnightinthatfirstIndianvillageended,asithadbegun,withsurrender.
PrabakertoldmethathisfamilyandhisneighbourswereconcernedthatIwouldbelonely,thatImustbelonely,inastrangeplace,withoutmyownfamily.Theydecidedtositwithmeonthatfirstnight,mountingavigilinthedarkuntiltheyweresurethatIwaspeacefullydeepinsleep.Afterall,thelittleguideremarked,peopleinmycountry,inmyvillage,woulddothesameforhim,ifhewentthereandmissedhisfamily,wouldn’tthey?
Theysatonthegroundaroundmylowbed,Prabakerandhisparentsandhisneighbours,keepingmecompanyinthewarm,dark,cinnamon-scentednight,andformingaringofprotectionaroundme.Ithoughtthatitwouldbeimpossibletosleepwithinacircleofspectators,butinminutesIbegantofloatanddriftonthemurmuringtideoftheirvoices;softandrhythmicwavesthatswirledbeneathafathomlessnightofbright,whisperingstars.
Atonepoint,Prabaker’sfatherreachedoutfromhisplaceatmyleftsidetoresthishandonmyshoulder.Itwasasimplegestureofkindnessandcomfort,butitseffectonmewasprofound.Amomentbefore,I’dbeendriftingtowardsleep.
SuddenlyIwashardawake.Iplungedintomemoriesandthoughtsofmydaughter,myparents,mybrother;ofthecrimesI’dcommitted,andthelovesI’dbetrayedandlostforever.
Itmayseemstrange,anditmayinfactbeimpossibleforanyoneelsetounderstand,butuntilthatverymomentI’dhadnorealcomprehensionofthewrongI’ddone,andthelifeI’dlost.WhileI’dcommittedthearmedrobberies,Iwasondrugs,addictedtoheroin.AnopiatefoghadsettledovereverythingthatIthoughtanddidandevenrememberedaboutthattime.Afterwards,duringthetrialandthethreeyearsinprison,Iwassoberandclear-headed,andIshould’veknownthenwhatthecrimesandpunishmentsmeant,formyselfandmyfamilyandthepeopleI’drobbedatthepointofagun.ButIdidn’tknoworfeelanythingofitthen.Iwastoobusybeingpunished,andfeelingpunished,toputmyheartaroundit.Evenwiththeescapefromprison,andtheflight,runningandhidingasawantedman,ahuntedmanwithapriceonmyhead-eventhen,therewasnofinal,clear,encompassinggraspoftheactsandtheconsequencesthatmadeupthenew,bitterstoryofmylife.Itwasonlythere,inthevillageinIndia,onthatfirstnight,adriftontheraftofmurmuringvoices,andmyeyesfilledwithstars;onlythen,whenanotherman’sfatherreachedouttocomfortme,andplacedapoorfarmer’sroughandcallousedhandonmyshoulder;onlythereandthendidIseeandfeelthetormentofwhatI’ddone,andwhatI’dbecome-thepainandthefearandthewaste;thestupid,unforgivablewasteofitall.Myheartbrokeonitsshameandsorrow.Isuddenlyknewhowmuchcryingtherewasinme,andhowlittlelove.Iknew,atlast,howlonelyIwas.
ButIcouldn’trespond.Myculturehadtaughtmeallthewrongthingswell.SoIlaycompletelystill,andgavenoreactionatall.Butthesoulhasnoculture.Thesoulhasnonations.Thesoulhasnocolouroraccentorwayoflife.Thesoulisforever.
Thesoulisone.Andwhenthehearthasitsmomentoftruthandsorrow,thesoulcan’tbestilled.
Iclenchedmyteethagainstthestars.Iclosedmyeyes.Isurrenderedtosleep.Oneofthereasonswhywecravelove,andseekitsodesperately,isthatloveistheonlycureforloneliness,andshame,andsorrow.Butsomefeelingssinksodeepintotheheartthatonlylonelinesscanhelpyoufindthemagain.
Sometruthsaboutyourselfaresopainfulthatonlyshamecanhelpyoulivewiththem.Andsomethingsarejustsosadthatonlyyoursoulcandothecryingforyou.
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CHAPTERSIX
Prabaker’sfatherintroducedmetoSundervillage,butitwashismotherwhomademefeelathomethere.Herlifeenfoldedminewithinitstriumphandsorrow,justaseasilyasherredshawlsometimesenswathedacryingchildthatpassedthedoorwayofherhouse.Herstory,toldtomebymanyvoices,monthaftermonth,becameallthestories,evenmyown.Andherlove-herwillingnesstoknowthetruthofmyheartandtoloveme-changedthecourseofmylife.
WhenIfirstmether,RukhmabaiKharrewasfortyyearsold,andatthepeakofherpersonalpowerandpublicprestige.Shewasafullheadandshouldertallerthanherhusband,andthatdifferenceinheight,combinedwithherample,curvaceousfigure,gavethefalseimpressionthatshewassomethingofanAmazon,wheneverthecouplestoodtogether.Herblackhair,gleamingwithcoconutoil,hadneverbeencut,andthemajesticropeofitreachedtoherknees.Herskinwastanbrown.Hereyeswerethecolourofamber,setinrosegold.Thewhitesofhereyeswerepink,always,givingtheimpressionthatshe’djustcriedorwasjustabouttocry.Awidegapbetweenherfrontteethgaveanimpishmischieftohersmile,whilethesuperbhookofherbeakednoseendowedherseriousexpressionswithanimposingauthority.
Herforeheadwashighandwide-itwasPrabaker’sforehead,exactly-andthehighcurvesofhercheekboneswerethemountainsfromwhichherambereyesstudiedtheworld.Shehadareadywit,andadeepsympathyforthedistressofothers.Shestoodalooffromdisputesbetweenherneighboursuntilshewasaskedtogiveheropinion,andthenherswasusuallythelastword.Shewasawomantoadmireandtodesire,butthemessageinhereyeandherbearingwasunmistakable:offendordisesteemheratyourperil.
TheforceofherpersonalitymaintainedastatusinthevillagethatwasderivedfromKishan’sownershipoflandandherstewardshipoftheirsmallpersonalfortune.HermarriagetoKishanhadbeenarranged.
Asashysixteen-year-old,she’dpeepedfrombehindacurtaintoinspectherbetrothed,seeinghimthenforthefirstandonlytimebeforethemarriage.WhenIlearnedtospeakherlanguagewellenough,shetoldmewithdisarmingcandourhowdisappointedshe’dbeenwhenshe’dscrutinisedKishanforthefirsttime.Hewasshort.Hisskin,tannedbyfarmer’stoiluntilitmatchedthedarkbrownearthitself,wasdarkerthanhers,andthathadworriedher.Hishandswereroughandhisspeechwascoarse.Hisclotheswerecleanbutdrab.Andhewasilliterate.Herfatherwasheadofavillagecouncil,apanchayat,andRukhmabaicouldreadandwrite,inHindiandMarathi.AsshelookedatKishanthatfirsttime,herheartbeatingitssecretssofuriouslythatshefearedhewouldhearit,shefeltsureshecouldn’tlovehim,andthatshewasmarryingbeneathherstatus.
Attheverymomentofthatdistressingrealisation,Kishanturnedhisheadtostaredirectlyatthehidingplace,whereshecrouchedbehindthecurtain.Shewascertainthathecouldn’tseeher,yethestaredasifhewaslookingintohereyes.Thenhesmiled.Itwasthebiggestsmileshe’deverseen.Itwasradiant,andsuffusedwithanirrepressiblegoodhumour.Shelookedintothatprodigioussmile,andastrangefeelingtookholdofher.
Shesmiledbackathim,despiteherself,andfeltarushofwell-being,anindefinablebutoverwhelminglysanguinecheerfulness.
Thingswillturnoutright,thevoiceofherheartsaidtoher.
Everythingwillbeallright.Sheknew,justasI’dknownwhenIsawPrabakerforthefirsttime,thatnomanwhosmiledwithsomuchofhisheartwouldknowinglyhurtorharmanother.
Whenhelookedawayagain,itwasasiftheroomhaddarkened,andsheunderstoodthatshe’dbeguntolovehimforthereassuringincandescenceofhissmilealone.Sheofferednoprotestwhenherfatherannouncedthemarriagearrangement,andwithintwomonthsofthatfirstglimpseofKishan’smagicsmileshewaswed,andpregnantwithherfirstson,Prabaker.
Kishan’sfathersettledtwofertilefieldsonhiseldestsonatthetimeofthemarriage,andRukhmabai’sfatheraddedathirdtotheyoungcouple’sendowment.Fromtheearliestdaysoftheirunion,theyoungbrideassumedcontroloftheirsmallwealth.
Usingherreadingandwritingskills,shekeptmeticulousrecordsoftheirprofitsandlossesinsimpleschoolexercisebooks,whichshetiedintobundlesandstoredinazinctrunk.
Judiciousinvestmentsintheenterprisesofherneighboursandacarefulhusbandingoftheirresourcesensuredthattheirlosseswerefew.Withthebirthoftheirthirdchild,whenshewastwenty-fiveyearsold,Rukhmabaihaddriventheirmodestfortunetobecomethelargestinthevillage.Theyownedfivefields.
Theyplantedcashcrops.Theykeptthreemilkingbuffaloandthreeoxen,aswellastwomilkinggoatsandadozenlayinghens.
Therewasmoneyinthebanksufficienttoprovidesubstantialdowriesforhertwodaughters.Thegirlswouldmarrywell,sheresolved,andgivehigherstatustohergrandchildren.
Whenhewasnineyearsold,PrabakerwassenttoBombay,wherehewasapprenticedtoanunclewhodroveataxi,andlivedinalargeinner-cityslum.Rukhmabaibegantoexpandhermorningprayers,withthehopesandplansshemadeforthefutureofherfamily.Thenshesufferedamiscarriage.Inlessthanayear,shemiscarriedtwicemore.Doctorsconcludedthatheruterushadbeenscarredafterthebirthofherthirdchild.Theyrecommended,andcarriedout,atotalhysterectomy.Shewastwenty-sixyearsold.
Rukhmabai’sheartwanderedthroughtheemptyroomsofherlife:theroomsreservedforthethreebabieslostinmiscarriages,andalltheotherlivesthatmight’vebeen.Fortwoyearsshewasinconsolable.EvenKishan’swonderfulsmile,summonedthroughhisowntears,failedtorouseher.Forlornandbroken-hearted,shelanguishedinmiseryandtheminimalroutineofcaringforherdaughters.Thelaughterwentoutofher,andsadnesssettledontheneglectedfields.
Rukhmabai’ssoulwasdying,andshemight’vefallenintothatsorrowforever,butacataclysmiceventthatthreatenedthewholevillagerousedherfromhergrieving.Abandofdacoits,orarmedbandits,settledintheareaandbegantodemandtributes.Amaninaneighbouringvillagewashackedwithamachete.Awomaninthesamevillagewasrapedbythedacoits.ThentheyshotandkilledaresisterinKishan’svillage.
Rukhmabaihadknownthedeadmanverywell.He’dbeenoneofKishan’scousins,andhadmarriedagirlfromRukhmabai’sownvillage.Everyman,woman,andchildinSunderattendedthefuneral.Atitsend,Rukhmabaiaddressedtheassembledvillagers.
Herhairwasawry,andherambereyesblazedwithrageanddetermination.Sheharanguedthosewhowantedtoappeasethedacoits,exhortingthemtoresistandfightandkill,ifnecessary,indefenceoftheirlivesandtheirland.Astonishedasmuchbyhersuddenanimation,aftertwoyearsofgrief’storpor,asbyhermartialspeech,thevillagerswereinspirited.Thereandthen,theydevisedaplanofactionandresistance.
WordreachedthedacoitsthatthepeopleofSundervillageweredeterminedtofight.Threats,skirmishes,andexploratoryraidsfinallyledtheboilingconflicttothepointwhereabattlewasinevitable.Thedacoitsdeliveredamenacingwarningthatonagivendaythevillagersmustsurrenderaconsiderabletribute,orsufferterribleconsequences
Thepeoplearmedthemselveswithsickles,axes,staves,andknives.Thewomenandchildrenwereevacuatedtoaneighbouringvillage.Fearandregretsweptthroughtheranksofthemenwhoremained.Severalmenarguedthattheirstrugglewasfoolhardy,andthattributewaslesspainfulthandeath.Thebrothersofthemurderedmanstalkedamongthem,givingencouragementandconsolationwhiletheycastigatedthebackslidersfortheircowardice.
Thealarmwentupthatmenwereapproachingonthecityroad.Thevillagersconcealedthemselvesbehindhastilyerectedbarricadesbetweentheirmudhouses.Exhilaratedandafraid,theywereatthepointofstrikingwhentheyrealisedthatthemenwereallies.Hearingofthewarwiththedacoitsaweekbefore,Prabakerhadgatheredagroupofsixfriendsandcousinsfromthecityslum,wherehelived,andhe’dsetouttojoinhisfamily.
Hewasjustfifteenatthetime,andtheeldestofhisfriendswasonlyeighteen,buttheywerestreetfightersfromoneofBombay’stoughestquarters.Oneofthem,Raju,atallboywiththehandsomefaceandbouffanthairstyleofaBombaymoviestar,hadagun.Heshowedthepistoltothevillagers,andgavehearttothemall.
Thedacoits,arrogantandover-confident,swaggeredintothevillagehalfanhourbeforesunset.Thefirstblood-curdlingthreatwasstillontheirleader’slipswhenRajusteppedfromhisconcealmentandwalkedtowardthebandits,firingonceforeverythirdstep.Axes,sickles,knives,staves,androckspouredfromthebarricadewalls,hurledtodeadlyeffectbythedesperatefarmers.Rajuneverbrokehisstride,andwithhislastbullethestrucktheleaderofthedacoitsinthechestatcloserange.Themanwasdead,thevillagerssaid,beforehehittheground.
Therestofthewoundeddacoitsscattered,andwereneverseenagain.ThebodyofthefallenleaderwascarriedtoJamnerDistrictpolicepost.Allthevillagerstoldthesamestory:they’dresistedthedacoits,andintheconfusionofbattlethebanditshadshotoneoftheirownmen.Raju’snamewasnevermentioned.
Afterfeastingfortwodays,theyoungmenreturnedwithPrabakertothecity.Wild,braveRajudiedinabarroomfightayearlater.Twooftheotherboysdiedinsimilarlyviolentcircumstances.Anotherwasservingalongsentenceinprisonforacrimeofpassion,involvingtheloveofanactressandtheenmityofarival.
ThevillagerstoldmeaboutthegreatbattlemanytimesasIlearnedtospeaktheMarathilanguage.Theytookmetothehistoricsiteswheretheconcealmentsandconfrontationshadoccurred.Theywalkedmethroughre-enactmentsoftheevent,theyoungermenoftencompetingforthehonourofplayingRaju’spart.Nolessimportant,inthetellingofthetale,werethestoriesoftheyoungmenwho’dfoughtbesidethem.Thefateofeachone-learnedfromPrabakeronhisvisitstothevillage-wasrecalledandtoldtomeaspartofthegreatsaga.Andthroughallofthestoriesanddiscussions,therewasaspecialaffectionandprideforRukhmabaiKharre.Theylovedandadmiredherforthegalvanisingroleshe’dplayedwithherfuneralspeech-thefirstandlasttimeshe’deverassumedapublicpositioninthevillage.Theyacknowledgedhercourage,andtheyrespectedherstrengthofwill.Aboveall,theycelebratedherreturntothem,throughthestrugglewiththedacoits,fromgriefanddespairtothestrong,shrewd,laughingwomanshe’dalwaysbeen.Inthatpoorandsimplevillage,no-onedoubtedorforgotthatitstreasureswereitspeople.
Anditwasallthere,inherlovelyface.Thelines,highonhercheeks,werethedamssheusedtokeepthetearsinhereyes.
Unspoken,unanswerablequestionspartedherfull,redlips,whenevershewasalone,orabsorbedinherwork.Determinationstiffenedthedefiantthrustofhercleftchin.Andherforeheadwasalwaysslightlycreasedinthecentre,betweenthebrows,asifshewasgrasping,inthosesoftfoldsofskin,themonstrousandpitiableunderstandingthatnohappinessexistswithoutitswoe,nowealthwithoutitscost,andnolifewithoutitsfullmeasure,soonerorlater,ofsorrowinganddeath.
MyrelationshipwithRukhmabaiwasestablishedonthefirstmorning.I’dsleptwellontheropebedoutsideKishan’shouse-sowell,infact,thatIwasstillsnoringloudlywhenRukhmabaidrovehermilkingbuffalointothespace,justafterdawn.Oneofthecreatures,drawntothebuzzingsound,decidedtoinvestigate.Awet,suffocatingsensationwokemewithastartofalarm.Iopenedmyeyestoseethehuge,pinktongueofagiganticblackwaterbuffalodescendingonceagaintosmothermyface.Shoutinginfearandsurprise,Ifelloffthebedandbackedawayonmyhandsandheels.
Rukhmabailedthelaughteratmyexpense,butitwasgoodlaughter-honest,andkind,andwithnoknivesinit.Whenshereacheddowntohelpmeup,Itookherhandandlaughedwithher.
“Gaee!”shesaid,pointingtothebuffalo,andestablishingthegroundrulethatifweweretobecommunicatingwithwords,Iwouldbetheonelearningaforeignlanguage.Waterbuffalo!
Shetookaglass,andsquattedbytheudderoftheimmense,black,bow-hornedbeasttosqueezemilk.Iwatchedthemilksquirtdirectlyintotheglass.Shefilledtheglasswithexpertstrokes,andthenbroughtittome,wipingthelipwiththecornerofherredcottonshawl.
I’macityboy.Iwasbornandraisedinafairlylargecityofthreemillionpeople.OneofthereasonsIcouldremainforyearsontherunwasthatIlovebigcities,andfeelcompletelyconfidentandcomfortableinthem.Thefullrangeofacityboy’ssuspicionanddreadofthecountryroseupinmewhenIheldthatglassoffreshlysqueezedmilk.Itwaswarmtothetouch.Itsmelledofthecow.Thereseemedtobethingsfloatingintheglass.Ihesitated.IhadthesensethatLouisPasteurwasstandingjustbehindme,lookingovermyshoulderattheglass.Icouldhearhim.Er,Iwouldboilthatmilkfirst,Monsieur,ifIwereyou…
Iswallowedprejudice,fear,andthemilkallatonce,gulpingitdownasquicklyaspossible.ThetastewasnotasbadasI’dexpectedittobe-creamyandrich,andwithahintofdriedgrasseswithinthebovineaftertaste.Rukhmabaisnatchedtheglassfrommyhandandsquatteddowntofillitagain,butmyurgent,pleadingprotestconvincedherthatIwaswellsatisfiedwithasingleglass.
Whenwe’dmadeourtoilet,washedourfaces,andcleanedourteeth,RukhmabaistoodoverPrabakerandmewhileweateasolidbreakfastofrotiandchai.Theroti,orunleavenedflatbreads,weremadefreshforeachbreakfast,andcookedinalightlyoiledwokonanopenfire.Thehot,pancake-likebreadwasfilledwithadabofghee,orpurifiedbutter,andalargespoonfulofsugar.
Itwasthenrolledintoatube,sothickthatthehandonlyjustcurledaroundit,andeatenwithamugofhot,sweet,milkytea.
Rukhmabaiwatchedeverybiteandchew,proddinguswithafingerorslappingusontheheadorshoulderifeitherofusshowedtheslightestinclinationtopauseforbreathduringthebreakfast.
Trapped,ourjawsgrindingawayattheadmittedlydeliciousfood,webothcastsurreptitiousglancesattheyoungwomencookingatthewok,hopingthateachroti,afterthethirdorfourthwe’deaten,wouldbeourlast.
Andso,forallthemanyweeks,everydayinthevillagebeganwithaglassofbuffalomilk,thenwithawashand,atlast,withalongchai-rotibreakfast.Onmostmornings,Ijoinedthemeninthefieldstendingtothecropsofmaize,corn,wheat,pulses,andcotton.Theworkingdaywasdividedintotwobracketsofaboutthreehours,withalunchbreakandsiestabetween.
Childrenandyoungwomenbroughtthelunchestousinamultitudeofstainlesssteeldishes.Themealusuallyconsistedoftheubiquitousroti,spicylentildhal,mangochutney,andrawonions,servedwithlimejuice.Aftereatingthemealasagroup,themenmovedofftofindquiet,shadyspotstodozeinforanhourorso.Whenworkresumed,thefedandrestedworkersappliedthemselveswithgreatenergyandenthusiasmuntiltheseniormaninthegroupcalledahalt.Assemblingononeofthemainpathways,thefarmersthenwalkedbackpastfieldsthey’dsownandtendedthemselves,oftenlaughingandjokingallthewaytothevillage.
Therewaslittleworkforthementodointhevillageitself.
Cooking,cleaning,washing,andevenroutinehouse-maintenancewerealldonebythewomen-mostlyyoungerwomen,supervisedintheirtasksbyolderwomen.Onaverage,thevillagewomenworkedafour-hourday.Theyspentmuchoftheirfreetimeplayingwiththeyoungchildren.Thevillagemenworkedsixhoursperdayforanaveragefour-dayweek.Specialeffortswererequiredforplantingsandharvests,butingeneraltheMaharashtrianvillagersworkedfewerhoursthanworkingmenandwomenincities.
Itwasn’tparadise.Someofthemenexhaustedthemselves,aftertheirworkinthecollectivefields,tryingtowringprofitsfromacashcropofcottononaprivatepatchofrockyground.Rainscameearlyorlate.Fieldsflooded,orsuccumbedtothepredationsofinsectsandcropdiseases.Women,withnooutletfortheirspecialcreativities,enduredthelong,quietruinoftheirtalents.Otherswatchedtheslowwasteofbrightchildrenwhocould’vebeenmoreanddonemoreinsomeother,busierplace,butneverwouldknowmorethanthevillage,thefields,andtheriver.Sometimes,rarely,amanorwomanwassowretchedlymiserablethatthenightforallofus,listeninginthevillagedark,wasraggedwithsobbing.
But,justasPrabakerhadsaid,thepeopledidsingalmosteveryday.Ifanabundanceofgoodfood,laughter,singing,andanamiabledispositioncanbetakenasindicatorsofwell-beingandhappiness,thenthevillagerseclipsedtheirwesterncounterpartsinthosequalitiesoflife.Inmysixmonthsthere,Ineverheardacruelvoiceorsawahandraisedinanger.Moreover,themenandwomeninPrabaker’svillagewererobustlyhealthy.Thegrandparentswereplump,butnotfat,theparentswerebright-eyedandfit,andthechildrenwerestraight-limbed,clever,andvivacious.
Andtherewasasenseofcertainty,inthevillage,thatnocityI’veeverknownprovides:thecertaintythatemergeswhenthesoil,andthegenerationswhoworkit,becomeinterchangeable;whentheidentitiesofthehumanbeingsandthenatureoftheplaceareoneandthesame.Citiesarecentresofconstantandirreversiblechange.Thedefinitivesoundofacityistherattlesnakechatterofajackhammer-thewarningsoundyouhearasthebusinessreptilestrikes.Butchangeinthevillageisperennial.Whatchangesinnatureisrestoredwithonewheeloftheseasons.Whatcomesfromtheearthalwaysreturns.Whatflourishes,diesawaytobloomagain.
AndwhenI’dbeeninthevillagesomethreemonths,RukhmabaiandthepeopleofSundergavemeafragmentofthatcertainty:apartofthemandtheirlivesthatchangedmylifeforever.Onthedaythemonsoonbegan,Iwasswimmingintheriverwithadozenotheryoungmenandabouttwentychildren.Thedarkclouds,whichhadpaintedtheirsombremoodsontheskyforweeks,gatheredfromhorizontohorizon,andseemedtopressuponthetopsofthetallesttrees.Theair,aftereightdrymonths,wassolavishlyperfumedwithrainthatwewerealmostdrunkwithexcitement.
“Paousalla!S’allaghurree!”thechildrencriedrepeatedly,graspingmyhands.Theypointedtothecloudsanddraggedmetowardthevillage.Therainiscoming!Let’sgohome!Thefirstdropsofrainfellasweran.Inseconds,thedropswereaheavyfall.Inminutes,thefallwasacascade.Withinanhour,themonsoonwasaceaselesstorrent,sothickthatitwasdifficulttobreatheintheopenwithoutcuppingmyhandstomymouthtomakealittlecaveofair.
Atfirst,thevillagersdancedintherainandplayedpranksononeanother.Sometooksoap,andwashedintheheaven-sentshower.Somewenttothelocaltemple,wheretheykneltintheraintopray.Othersbusiedthemselveswithrepairstotheroofsoftheirhousesandthedrainagetrenchesdugaroundeverymud-brickwall.
Eventually,everyonestoppedtosimplystareatthedrifting,flapping,curlingsheetsofrain.Everydoorwayofeveryhousewascrowdedwithfaces,andeachflashoflightningshowedthefrozentableauxofwonder.
Thatdownpourofseveralhourswasfollowedbyalulljustaslong.Thesunshoneintermittently,andrainwatersteamedfromthewarmingearth.Thefirsttendaysoftheseasonproceededinthesameway,withviolentstormsandtranquillulls,asifthemonsoonwasprobingthevillageforitsweaknessesbeforemountingafinalassault.
Then,whenthegreatraincame,itwasalakeofwaterintheair,anditrainedalmostwithoutpauseforsevendaysandnights.Ontheseventhday,Iwasattheriver’sedge,washingmyfewclothesasthedrenchingtorrentsfell.AtonepointIreachedformysoap,andrealisedthattherockI’dplaceditonwassubmerged.Thewater,whichhadmerelycaressedmybarefeet,rosefrommyanklestomykneesinseconds.AsIlookedupstreamatthetumblingcrashoftheriver,thewaterreachedtomythighs,andwasstillrising.
Awedanduneasy,Iwadedfromthewaterwithmywetclothes,andbeganthewalktothevillage.OnthewayIstoppedtwicetowatchtheprogressoftheriver.Thesteepbankswerequicklyswamped,andthenthewideslopingplainbegantosubsidebeneaththeall-immersingflood.Theadvancewassorapidthattheinevasiblecreepoftheswollen,land-consumingrivermovedtowardthevillageataslowwalkingpace.Alarmed,Irantowarnthevillagers.
“Theriver!Theriveriscoming!”Ishouted,inbrokenMarathi.
Sensingmydistressbutnotreallyunderstandingme,thevillagersgatheredaroundandthencalledPrabaker,plyinghimwithquestions.
“Whatisyourmatter,Lin?Thepeopleareveryupsetforyou.”
“Theriver!It’scomingupfast.It’llwipethevillageout!”Prabakersmiled.
“Oh,no,Lin.Thatwillnotbehappening.”
“I’mtellingyou!I’veseenit.I’mnotjoking,Prabu.Thefuckingriver’sinflood!”
Prabakertranslatedmywordsfortheothers.Everyonelaughed.
“Areyouallcrazy?”Ishouted,inexasperation.“It’snotfunny!”
Theylaughedalltheharderandcrowdedaroundme,reachingouttocalmmyfearbypattingandstrokingme,theirlaughingvoicesfullofsoothingwordsandsighs.Then,withPrabakerleadingtheway,thecrowdofvillagersgoaded,dragged,andpushedmetowardtheriver.
Theriver,onlyafewhundredmetresaway,wasadeluge:avastmuddyconcrescencethattorethroughthevalleyinheavingwavesandboilingeddies.Therainredoubleditsintensityaswestoodthere,ourclothesasdrenchedastheyieldingsoil.Andstillthetumidrivergrew,consumingnewlandwitheverythumpingheartbeat.
“Youseethosesticks,Lin,”Prabakersaid,inhismostirritatingattemptatasoothingtone.“Thosesticksaretheflood-gamesticks.Doyouremember,whenthepeopleputthemintheground?SatishandPandey,NarayanandBharat…doyouremember?”
Ididremember.Daysbefore,there’dbeenalotteryofsomekind.
Onehundredandtwelvenumbers-oneforeverymaninthevillage–werewrittenonsmallpiecesofpaper,andmixedtogetherinanemptyclaywater-pot,calledamatka.Themenlineduptodrawtheirnumbers,andthenasecondsetofthesamenumberswasmixedinthepot.Alittlegirlwasgiventhehonourofdrawingthesixwinningnumbersfromthepot.Thewholevillagewatchedtheceremony,andapplaudedthewinnershappily.
Thesixmenwhosenumbershadbeendrawnhadwonthechancetohammerawoodenstake,alittleoverametrelong,intotheearth.Aswell,thethreeoldestmeninthevillagewereaccordedtherighttoawoodenstakewithoutthenumberedlottery.Theydulychoseplacesfortheirstakes,andyoungermenobligedbyhammeringthewoodenpegsintotheground.Whenallninestakeswerepositioned,littleflagswiththenamesofthemenweretiedtoeachone,andthepeopledriftedbacktotheirhomes.
I’dwatchedtheaffairfromashadyspotbeneaththebrancheddomeofatree.Atthetime,IwasworkingonmyownsmallreferencedictionaryoftheMarathilanguage,basedonphoneticspellingsofthewordsIheardeverydayinthevillage.Igavetheceremonylittleattention,andIneverbotheredtoaskitspurpose.
Aswestoodinthenumbing,drummingrainandwatchedtheprowlingadvanceoftheriver,Prabakerexplainedthatthewoodenstakeswerepartofaflood-gamethatwasplayedeveryyear.Theoldestmeninthevillage,andsixlotterywinners,weregiventhechancetopredictthepointtowhichtheriverwouldrise.
Eachwoodenstick,withitsflagofyellowsilk,representedabestguess.
“Yousee,thisonelittleflag?”Prabakerasked,pointingtothestakethatwasfurthestfromwherewestood.“Thisoneisalmostgone.Theriverwillreachtohim,andcoverhim,tomorrowortonight.”
Hetranslatedwhathe’dtoldmeforthecrowd,andtheypushedSatish,aheavy-setcowherd,tothefrontofthegroup.Thealmostsubmergedstickwashis,andheaccepted,withshylaughteranddowncasteyes,thegood-naturedjeersofhisfriendsandthesneersoftheoldermen.
“Andthisonehere,”Prabakerwenton,pointingtothestakenearesttoourposition.“Thisoneistheriverwillneverbetouching.Therivernevercomesmorefarthanthisplace.OldDeepakbhaihaspickedforhimselfthisplace,fortheputtingofhisstick.Hethinksthisyearwillbeaveryheavymonsoon.”
Thevillagershadlostinterest,andwerealreadydriftingorjoggingbacktothevillage.PrabakerandIstoodalone.
“But…howdoyouknowthattheriverwon’trisepastthispoint?”
“Weareherealongtime,Lin.Sundervillagehasbeeninthisplacefortwothousandsofyears.Thenextvillage,Natinkerra,hasbeenthereformuchlonger,aboutthreethousandsofyears.
Insomeotherplaces-notneartohere-thepeopledohaveabadexperiences,withthefloods,inmonsoontime.Butnothere.NotinSunder.Ourriverhasnevercometothisfar.Thisyear,also,Idon’tthinkitwillcometothisfar,evensooldDeepakbhaisaysitwill.Everybodyknowswheretheriverwillstop,Lin.”
Heraisedhiseyestosquintattheunburdeningclouds.
“Butusually,wearewaitinguntiltherainitstops,beforewecomeoutofthehousetolookattheflood-gamesticks.Ifyoudon’tmind,Lin,I’mswimminginmyclothes,andIwillhavetosqueezethewateroutofmybonesbeforeIgoinmyhouse.”
Istaredstraightahead.Heglancedupattheblacktumbleofcloudoncemore,andaskedaquestion.
“Inyourcountry,Lin,don’tyouknowwheretheriverstops?”
Ididn’tanswerhim.Eventually,hereacheduptopatmeonthebackafewtimes,andthenwalkedoff.Alone,Istaredattherain-soakedworldforawhile,andatlastIliftedmyfacetothedrowningsky.
Iwasthinkingaboutanotherkindofriver,onethatrunsthrougheveryoneofus,nomatterwherewecomefrom,allovertheworld.It’stheriveroftheheart,andtheheart’sdesire.It’sthepure,essentialtruthofwhateachoneofusis,andcanachieve.AllmylifeI’dbeenafighter.Iwasalwaysready,tooready,tofightforwhatIloved,andagainstwhatIdeplored.Intheend,Ibecametheexpressionofthatfight,andmyrealnaturewasconcealedbehindamaskofmenaceandhostility.Themessageofmyfaceandmybody’smovementwas,likethatofalotofotherhardmen,Don’tfuckwithme.Intheend,Ibecamesogoodatexpressingthesentimentthatthewholeofmylifebecamethemessage.
Itdidn’tworkinthevillage.No-onecouldreadmybodylanguage.Theyknewnootherforeigners,andhadnopointofreference.IfIwasgrimorevenstern,theylaughed,andpattedmybackencouragingly.Theytookmeasapeacefulman,nomatterwhatexpressionIwore.Iwasajoker,someonewhoworkedhard,playedthefoolforthechildren,sangwiththem,dancedwiththem,andlaughedwithanopenheart.
AndIthinkIdidlaughlikethatthen.Iwasgivenachancetoreinventmyself,tofollowthatriverwithin,andbecomethemanI’dalwayswantedtobe.OntheverydaythatIlearnedaboutthewoodenstakesoftheflood-game,notthreehoursbeforeIstoodaloneintherain,Prabaker’smotherhadtoldmethatshe’dcalledameetingofthewomeninthevillage:she’ddecidedtogivemeanewname,aMaharashtrianname,likeherown.BecauseIwasinPrabaker’shouse,itwasdecidedthatIshouldtakethefamilynameofKharre.BecauseKishanwasPrabaker’sfather,andmyadoptivefather,traditiondecreedthatIshouldtakehisfirstnameformymiddlename.Andbecausetheyjudgedmynaturetobeblessedwithpeacefulhappiness,Rukhmabaiconcluded,thewomenhadagreedwithherchoiceformyfirstname.ItwasShantaram,whichmeansmanofpeace,ormanofGod’speace.
Theynailedtheirstakesintotheearthofmylife,thosefarmers.Theyknewtheplaceinmewheretheriverstopped,andtheymarkeditwithanewname.ShantaramKishanKharre.Idon’tknowiftheyfoundthatnameintheheartofthemantheybelievedmetobe,oriftheyplanteditthere,likeawishingtree,tobloomandgrow.
Whateverthecase,whethertheydiscoveredthatpeaceorcreatedit,thetruthisthatthemanIamwasborninthosemoments,asIstoodnearthefloodstickswithmyfaceliftedtothechrismalrain.Shantaram.Thebettermanthat,slowly,andmuchtoolate,Ibegantobe.
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CHAPTERSEVEN
“Sheisabeautifulprostitutes,”Prabakerpleaded.“Sofatsheis,andinthemostseriousandtheimportantplaces.Abighandfulsyoucangrab,anywhereyoulike.Youwillbesoexciting,youwillmakeyourselfsick!”
“It’satemptingoffer,Prabu,”Iresponded,tryingnottolaugh,“butI’mreallynotinterested.Weonlyleftthevillageyesterday,andIguessmymindisstillthere.I’mjust…notinthemood.”
“Moodisnoproblem,baba.Onlyfirstyougetbumpingandjumping,thenyourbadmoodswillsoquicklychange,futt-a–
_futt!”
“Maybeyou’reright,butIthinkI’llpass,allthesame.”
“Butsheissoexperience!”hewhined.“Thosefellowstoldmeshehasmadesexybusinesstoomanytimes,andwithtoomanyhundredofcustomers,inthishotelonly.Isawher.Ilookedontheinsideofhereyes,andIknowthatsheisaverybigexpertinthesexybusiness.”
“Idon’twantaprostitute,Prabu.Nomatterhowexpertsheis.”
“Butifyouonlyseeher.Youwillbecrazyforher.”
“Sorry,Prabu.”
“ButItoldthem…thatyouwillcomeandlookather.Onlylook.Thereisnoharmingforalook,Linbaba.”
“No.”
“But…butIcan’tgetbackmycashdepositsifyoudon’tcomeanddosomelookingather.”
“Youpaidacashdeposit?”
“Yes,Lin.”
“Youpaidadeposit,formetohavesexwithawomaninthishotel?”
“Yes,Lin,”hesighed,raisinghisarms,andlettingthemfalltohissidesinahelplessgesture.“Sixmonthsinthevillage,youwere.Sixmonthswithnosexybusiness.Iwasthinkingyoumustbefeelingabigamountofyourneeds.Now,nocashdepositsreturnedforme,ifyoudon’ttakeoneverysmallpeekingather.”
“Okay,”Isighed,copyinghishelplessgesture.“Let’sgotakealook,justtogetyouoffthehook.”
Ipulledthedoorofourhotelroomshut,andlockedit.Wesetoffalongthewidecorridortogether.TheApsaraHotelinAurangabad,northofBombay,wasmorethanahundredyearsold,andbuilttoserveadifferent,moresplendidage.Itshigh,wideroomsweregracedwithopenbalconiesfacingthebusystreet,andtheyfeaturedfinedetailintheircornicesandceilingrosettes.
Thefurniturewasshoddyandthrowntogetherinhaphazardcombinations,however,andthecarpetinthecorridorshadwornthroughtoshaggyholesinmanyplaces.Thepaintwaspeeling,thewallswerebruisedwithdirt,andtheroomswerecheap.Justtheplace,Prabakerhadassuredme,forustospendahappynightonourwaybacktoBombay.
Westoppedoutsideadooronthefarsideofourfloorofthebuilding.Prabakerwastremblingwithexcitement.Hiseyeswerealarminglywide.
Iknocked.Almostatonce,thedooropened.Awoman,agedsomethingoverfifty,stoodinthedoorway.Shewaswearingaredandyellowsari,andsheglaredatusmalevolently.Behindherintheroomwereseveralmen.TheyweredressedindhotisandwhitecapslikethefarmersinPrabaker’svillage,andtheysatonthefloortoeataheartymealofdhal,rice,androti.
Thewomansteppedintothecorridor,andpulledthedoorshutbehindher.ShefixedhergazeonPrabaker.Hewasafullheadandshouldershorterthanshewas,andhereturnedherbalefulstarewiththefixityofaschoolbully’sminorhenchman.
“Yousee,Lin?”hemuttered,nevertakinghiseyesoffher.“YouseewhatItoldyou?”
WhatIsawwasaplain,widefacewithabulbousnose,andlipssothinandcurledwithcontemptthathermouthresembledaclamthatsomeonehadpokedwithastick.Themake-uponherfaceandneckwasgeishathick,andgaveherscowlingexpressionavillainousintensity.
PrabakerspoketothewomaninMarathi.
“Showhim!”
Sherespondedbyliftingasidethecoveringshawlofhersaritorevealapudgyrollofstomach.Shepinchedagoodpoundortwoofthefleshbetweenherstubbyfingers,andsqueezedit,lookingatmewithoneeyebrowraisedtoinvitepraise.
Prabakerletoutasoftmoan,andhiseyeswidened.Thewomanthenscowleddramaticallyleftandrightalongthecorridorbeforeraisingherblouseafewcentimetrestorevealalong,thin,pendulousbreast.Sheseizedthebreastandflappeditatmeafewtimes,winkinghereyebrowwithabafflinglyinscrutableexpression.Mybestguess,stabbingwildlyinthedark,wasthatitmight’vebeenamenacing,derisivesneer.
Prabaker’seyeswidenedevenmore,andhebegantobreathenoisilythroughhisopenmouth.
Thewomancoveredherbreast,andthenwhippedherlongplaitofblackhairoverhershoulderwithajerkofherhead.Shetooktheplaitinbothhandsandbegantosqueezedownwardtowardthetaperingendwithherfingers,asifitwasahalf-emptytubeoftoothpaste.Athickdribbleofcoconutoilgatheredbeforeherfingers,anddrippedfromtheendoftheplaitontothethreadbarecarpet.
“Youknow,Lin,”Prabakermumbled,gapinghungrilyandalmostfearfullyatthedripsofoil.Hisrightfootactuallybegantostamp,softly,onthecarpet.“Ifyoudon’twanttohaveasexybusinesswiththiswoman…if…ifyoureallydon’twant…well…Icouldusethatcashdepositsmyowngoodself…”
“I’llseeyoubackattheroom,Prabu,”Ireplied,smilingpolitelyatthewoman.Iofferedheralittlebow,andtookherscornfulsnarlwithmebacktoourroom.
IthoughttousethetimetoupdatemyMarathidictionary.Therewerealreadysomesixhundredwordsfromeverydayusageinthelist.I’dmadethenotesonscrapsofpaper,aspeopleinthevillagehadgivenmewordsandphrases,beforetransferringthemtoasturdyjournalforfuturereference.Thelastandlatestofthosenoteswerespreadoutonalittlewritingtable,andI’djustbeguntoentertheminmyjournalwhenthedoorsprungopenandPrabakerswaggeredintotheroom.Hewalkedpastmewithoutspeaking,andfellontohisbackonhisbed.AboutnineminuteshadpassedsinceI’dlefthimattheprostitute’sdoor.
“Oh,Lin!”hemoanedhappily,grinningupattheceiling.“Iknewit.Iknewshewasafull-of-experiencewoman.”
Istaredathiminbewilderment.
“Ah,yes!”hegushed,sittingupandlettinghisshortlegsswingfromthebed.“Shegavemeabigmoney’sworth.AndIgaveittoheravery,verygoodsexalso.Andnow!Let’sgoout!Wewillbehavingsomefoods,andsomedrinks,andaparty!”
“Ifyou’resureyou’vegotthestrength,”Imuttered.
“Oh,noneedforstrengthinthisplace,baba.ThisplaceI’mtakingyouissuchafineplacethatveryoftenyoucanevensitdownwhileyouaredrinking.”
Asgoodashisword,Prabakerdirectedustoahovel,aboutanhour’swalkpastthelastbusstopontheoutskirtsofthetown.
Witharoundofdrinksforthehouse,weinsinuatedourselvesintothecrushofdusty,determineddrinkerswhooccupiedthebar’sonenarrowstonebench.TheplacewaswhatAustralianscallaslygrogshop:anunlicensedbar,wheremenbuyover-proofalcoholatunder-the-counterprices.
Themenwejoinedinthebarwereworkers,farmers,andaroutineassortmentoflawbreakers.Theyallworesullen,persecutedexpressions.Theysaidlittle,ornothingatall.Fiercegrimacesdisfiguredthemastheydrankthefoul-tasting,homemadealcohol,andtheyfollowedeachglasswithamiscellanyofgrunts,groans,andgaggingsounds.Whenwejoinedthem,PrabakerandIconsumedthedrinksatagulp,pinchingournoseswithonehandandhurlingthenoxious,chemurgicliquiddownouropenthroats.Bymeansofafiercedetermination,wesummonedthewilltokeepthepoisoninourbellies.Andwhensufficientlyrecoveredwelaunchedourselves,withnolittlereluctance,intothenextvenomousround.
Itwasagrimandpleasurelessbusiness.Thestrainshowedoneveryface.Somefoundthegoingtoohardandslunkaway,defeated.Somefaltered,butwerepressedonbytheanguishedencouragementsoffellowsufferers.Prabakerlingeredlongoverhisfifthglassofthevolatilefluid.Ithoughthewasabouttoadmitdefeat,butatlasthegaspedandsplutteredhiswaythroughtoemptytheglass.Thenonemanthrewhisglassaside,stoodup,andmovedtothecentreoftheshabbylittleroom.Hebegantosinginaroaring,off-keyvoice,andbecauseeverymanofuscheeredourpassionateandperemptoryapproval,weallknewthatweweredrunk.
Onebyone,wesangasonginturn.AweepingrenditionoftheIndiannationalanthemwasfollowedbyreligiousdevotionals.
Hindilovesongsjingledbesideheart-breakinggazals.Thetwoburlywaitersrecognisedthenewstageofinebriation,andabandonedtheirdrinkstraysandglassesforawhile.Theytookuptheirpositions,sittingonstoolsoneithersideoftheentrancedoor.Theysmiledbroadly,nodded,waggedtheirheads,andcradledlong,thick,woodenclubsinthetenderembraceoftheirmeatyarms.Weallclappedandcheered,witheverysong.Whenitwasmyturn,Isang-Idon’tknowwhy-theoldKinks’song,“YouReallyGotMe”:
Girl,youreallygotmegoin’
YougotmesoIcan’tsleepatnight…
IwasdrunkenoughtocoachPrabaker,andhewasdrunkenoughtolearnthechorus.
Oh,yes,byGod,youareagirl!
Andyoureally,reallygotme,isn’titgoing?
Wewerestillsingingonthedark,desertedstretchofroad,leadingbacktotown.WewerestillsingingwhenthewhiteAmbassadorcarcruisedpastusslowly,andturned.Andwewerestillsingingwhenthecarcruisedpastusagain,andthenturnedonemoretimetoblockourpathontheshoulderoftheroad.Fourmengotoutofthecar,andonestayedbehindthewheel.ThetallestofthemengrabbedatmyshirtandbarkedacommandatmeinMarathi.
“Whatisthis?”Islurredbackathim,inMarathi.
Anothermansteppedinfromthesideandhitmewithashortrighthandthatsnappedmyheadbacksharply.Twomorequickpunchescrunchedintomymouthandnose.Istumbledback,andfeltoneleggooutfromunderme.Falling,IsawPrabakerhurlhimselfatthefourmenwithhisarmswide,tryingtoholdthembackfromme.Irousedmyself,andralliedenoughtomakeacharge.Mylefthookandoverhandrightelbow,thebesthardpunchesinanystreetfight,werelucky,andbothmadetoughcontact.Besideme,Prabakerwentdownonce,leapttohisfeet,andcollectedawildhaymakerthatsenthimdazedandsprawling.
Itriedtostandnearhimandprotecthimwithmylegs,butItrippedandfellclumsily.Kicksandpunchesrained,andIcoveredup,hearingaquietvoiceinmyheadthatsaid,Iknowthis…Iknow_this…
Themenheldmedownwhileoneofthemwentthroughmypocketswithpractisedthoroughness.Drunkanddamaged,Iwasonlydimlyawareofthedarkshapesloomingoverme.ThenIheardanothervoice,Prabaker’svoice,andIunderstoodsomeofthewordsinhispleading,andhisdefiantabuseofthem.Hecastigatedthemenforshamingtheirowncountryandtheirownpeoplebybeatingandrobbingaforeigner,avisitortotheircountrywho’ddonethemnoharm.ItwasawildspeechthatcalledthemcowardsandinvokedMahatmaGandhi,Buddha,thegodKrishna,MotherTheresa,andtheBollywoodfilmstarAmitabhBachchaninthesamesentence.Ithadaneffect.Theleaderofthegroupcametosquatnearme.Itriedthroughmydrunkenhazetostandandfightagain,buttheotherspushedmedownandheldmeontheground.Iknowthis…Iknowthis…
Themanleanedovertolookintomyeyes.Hisfacewashard,impassive,andverymuchlikemyown.Heopenedmytornshirtandshovedsomethinginside.Itwasmypassportandmywatch.
Theystood,gavePrabakeralastscowlofincomprehensiblehatred,andthenclimbedintothecar.Doorsslammedasthecarspedaway,scatteringuswithdustandsmallstones.
Prabaker’swretchedness,whenhewassurethatIwasn’tbadlyhurt,andhefoundtimetowailandwhine,wasinconsolable.Heblamedhimself,loudlyandoften,forleadingustotheremotebarandforallowingustodrinktoomuch.Hesaidwithperfecthonestythathewouldhappilytakemybruisesonhisbody,ifitwerepossible.Hisprideinhimself,asBombay’sbeststreetguide,wasatatteredbanner.Andhispassionate,unqualifiedloveforhiscountry,BharatMataji,MotherIndia,sufferedblowsmoregrievousthananythebodymightendure.
“There’sonlyonegoodthingfordoing,Lin,”heconcluded,asIwashedmyfaceatahand-basininthehugewhite-tiledbathroomofourhotel.“WhenwegetbacktoBombay,youmustbesendingatelegramtoyourfamilyandyourfriendsformoremonies,andyoumustgotoyourNewZealandembassyformakingacomplainofemergencies.”
Idriedmyface,andleanedonthebasintolookintothemirror.
Theinjuriesweren’tbad.Ablackeyewasforming.Mynosewasswollen,butnotbroken.Bothlipswerecutandthickened,andthereweresomesweepinggrazesonmycheeksandjaw,wherekickshadscrapedawaytheskin.Itcould’vebeenalotworse,andIknewit.I’dgrownupinatoughneighbourhood,whereworking-classgangspreyedononeanotherandweremercilesstoloners,likeme,whorefusedtojoinanyofthem.Andthentherewastheprison.NobeatingsI’deversufferedwereassavageasthoseinflictedbytheuniformedmenwhowerepaidtokeepthepeace,theprisonguards.Thatwaswhatthevoice,myownvoice,hadrecalled…Iknowthis…Thatwasthememory:beinghelddownbythreeorfourofficersinthepunishmentunitwhiletwoorthreeothersworkedmeoverwithfists,batons,andboots.It’salwaysworsegettingabeatingfromthem,ofcourse,becausethey’resupposedtobethegoodguys.Youunderstandandacceptitwhenthebadguysworkyouover.Butwhenthegoodguysusehandcuffstochainyoutoawall,andthentaketurnstostompandkickyou,it’sthewholesystem,it’sthewholeworld,that’sbreakingyourbones.Andthentherewasthescreaming.Theothermen,theotherprisoners,screaming.Everynight.
Ilookedintomyowneyesinthemirror,andthoughtaboutPrabaker’ssuggestion.ItwasimpossibletocontacttheNewZealandembassy-oranyembassy.Icouldn’tcontactfamilyorfriendsbecausethepolicewouldbewatchingthem,andwaitingforaconnectiontobemade.Therewasno-one.Nohelp.Nomoney.
ThethieveshadtakeneverycentIhadintheworld.Theironyofitwasn’tlostonme:theescapedarmedrobber,robbedofeverythingheowned.WhatwasitKarlahadsaid,beforeI’dleftforthevillage?Don’tdrinkanyalcoholonthetrip…
“There’snomoneyinNewZealand,Prabu,”Itoldhimaswewalkedbacktoourhotelroom.“There’snofamilywhocanhelp,nofriends,andnohelpattheembassy.”
“Nomoney?”
“None.”
“Andyoucan’tgetanymore?Notfromanyplace?”
“No,”Ianswered,packingmyfewbelongingsintomybackpack.
“Thisisaveryserioustrouble,Lin,ifyoudon’tmindI’mtellingyourbruiseandscratchyface.”
“Iknow.Doyouthinkwecansellmywatchtothehotelmanager?”
“Yes,Lin,Ithinksosure.Itisaverynicewatches.ButIdon’tthinksohewillgiveusabigfairprice.Insuchmatters,theIndianbusinessmanisputtinghisreligioninhisbackpocketonly,andheisdrivingveryhardbargainsonyou.”
“Nevermind,”Ireplied,clippingshutthecatchesonmybackpack.“Solongasit’senoughtopaythebill,andcatchthatnighttrainyouweretalkingabout,backtoBombay.Comeon,packyourthings,andlet’sgo.”
“Itisavery,very,veryserioustrouble,”hesaidasweclosedthedoortotheroomforthelasttime,andwalkeddownthecorridor.“NomoneyisnofunnyinIndia,Lin,I’mtellingyou.”
ThefrownthatcompressedhislipsandconsumedhisfeaturesremainedwithusallthewaybacktoBombay.ThesaleofmywatchcoveredthehotelbillinAurangabad,withenoughleftfortwoorthreedaysattheIndiaGuestHouseinBombay.Withmygearstowedinmyfavouriteroom,IwalkedPrabakerbacktothesmallentrancefoyerofthehotel,tryinginvaintorevivethelittlemiracleofhiswondroussmile.
“Youwillleaveallthoseunhappythingsinmycaring,”hesaid,earnestandsolemn.“Youwillsee,Lin.Iwillmakeahappyresultonyou.”
Iwatchedhimwalkdownthestairs,andthenheardthemanager,Anand,addressmeinfriendlyMarathi.
Iturnedwithasmile,andwebegantotalkinMarathi.Sixmonthsinthevillagehadgivenmethesimple,everydayconversationalphrases,questions,andsentences.Itwasamodestachievement,butAnandwasobviouslyverypleasedandsurprised.
Afterafewminutesofconversation,hecalledalltheco-managersandroomboystohearmespeakintheirlanguage.Theyallreactedwithsimilarlydelightedastonishment.They’dknownforeignerswhospokealittleHindi,orevenspokeitwell,butnoneofthemhadevermetaforeignerwhocouldconversewiththemintheirownbelovedMarathilanguage.
TheyaskedmeaboutthevillageofSunder-they’dneverheardofit-andwetalkedaboutthedailylifethattheyallknewwellfromtheirownvillages,andtendedtoidylliseinrecollection.
Whentheconversationended,Ireturnedtomyroom,andhadbarelyshutthedoorwhenatentativeknocksoundedatit.
“Excuseme,please.Iamsorrytodisturb.”Thevoicebelongedtoatall,thinforeigner-German,orSwiss,perhaps-withawispybeardattachedtothepointofhislongface,andfairhairpulledbackintoathickplait.“Iheardyouspeakingtothemanager,andtheroomboys,before,and…well,itissurethatyouhavebeenhereinIndiaverylong…and…_na_ja,wejustarrivedtoday,mygirlfriendandme,andwewanttobuysomehashish.Doyou…doyoumaybeknowwherewecangetforourselvessomehashish,withoutsomebodycheatingus,andwithouttroublefromthepolice?”
Ididknow,ofcourse.Beforethenightwasout,Ialsohelpedthemtochangemoneyontheblackmarketwithoutbeingcheated.
ThebeardedGermanandhisgirlfriendwerehappywiththedealandtheypaidmeacommission.Theblackmarketeers,whowerePrabaker’sfriendsandcontactsonthestreet,werehappythatI’dbroughtnewcustomerstothem,andtheypaidmecommissionsaswell.Iknewtherewouldbeotherforeigners,oneverystreetinColaba,whowantedtoscore.ThatcasualconversationinMarathiwithAnandandtheroomboysofthehotel,overheardbytheGermancouple,hadgivenmeawaytosurviveinthecity.
Amorepressingproblem,however,wasmytouristvisa.WhenAnandhadsignedmeintothehotel,he’dwarnedmethatmyvisahadexpired.EveryhotelinBombayhadtosupplyaregisterofforeignguests,withavalidvisaentryforeachforeignnameandpassportnumber.TheregisterwasknownastheC-Form,andthepolicewerevigilantinitssupervision.OverstayingonavisawasaseriousoffenceinIndia.Prisontermsofuptotwoyearsweresometimesimposed,andthepoliceleviedheavyfinesonhoteloperatorswhopermittedC-Formirregularities.
Anandhadexplainedallthattome,gravely,beforehefudgedthefiguresinhisregisterandsignedmein.Helikedme.HewasMaharashtrian,andIwasthefirstforeignerhe’devermetwhospoketheMarathilanguagewithhim.Hewashappytobreaktherulesforme,once,buthewarnedmetovisittheForeignerRegistrationBranch,atpoliceheadquarters,immediately,toseeaboutanextensiononmyvisa.
Isatinmyroom,andweighedtheoptions.Thereweren’tmany.Ihadverylittlemoney.True,I’dinadvertentlydiscoveredawaytoearnmoneyasamiddleman,ago-between,helpingwaryforeignerstodealwithblackmarketeers.However,Iwasn’tsureifitwouldprovidemewithenoughmoneytoliveinhotelsandeatinrestaurants.Itcertainlywouldn’tpayforaplaneticketoutofIndia.Moreover,Iwasalreadyanoverstayeronmyvisa,andtechnicallyguiltyofacriminaloffence.Anandassuredmethatthecopswouldseethelapsedvisaasamereoversight,andextenditwithoutenquiry,butIcouldn’triskmyfreedomonthatchance.Icouldn’tvisittheForeignerRegistrationBranch.So,Icouldn’taltermyvisastatus,andIcouldn’tstayatahotelinBombaywithoutavalidvisa.Iwascaughtbetweentherockofregulationsandthehardplaceofthefugitivelife.
Ilaybackonthebed,inthedark,listeningtothesoundsofthestreetthatrosetomyopenwindow:thepaanwalla,callingcustomerstothedelightsofhisaromaticmorsels;thewatermelonman,piercingthewarm,humidnightwithhisplangentcry;astreetacrobat,shoutingthroughhissweatyexertionsforacrowdoftourists;andmusic,alwaysmusic.Dideverapeoplelovemusic,Iwondered,morethantheIndians?
Thoughtsofthevillage,thoughtsI’davoidedandresisteduntilthatmusicbegan,dancedintomymind.OnthedaythatPrabakerandIhadleftthevillage,thepeoplehadinvitedmetolivewiththem.They’dofferedmeahouseandajob.InthelastthreemonthsofmystayI’dbeenhelpingtheteacheratthelocalschoolwithspeciallessonsinspokenEnglish.IgavehimclearpronunciationsofEnglishwords,helpinghimtocorrecttheheavilyaccentedversionsofthelanguagethathe’dbeenteachingtothechildren.Theteacherandthevillagecouncilhadurgedmetostay.Therewasaplaceforme-aplaceandapurpose.
Butitwasn’tpossibleformetoreturntoSundervillage.Notthen.Amancanmakehiswayinthecitywithhisheartandhissoulcrushedwithinaclenchedfist;buttoliveinavillage,hehastounfurlhisheartandhissoulinhiseyes.Icarriedcrimeandpunishmentwithmeineveryhourofmylife.Thesamefatethathelpedmetoescapefromprisonhadclampeditsclawsonmyfuture.Soonerorlater,iftheylookedhardenoughandlongenough,thepeoplewouldseethoseclawsinmyeyes.Soonerorlater,therewouldbeareckoning.I’dpassedmyselfoffasafreeman,apeacefulman,andforalittlewhileI’dknownrealhappinessinthevillage,butmysoulwasn’tclean.WhatwouldIdotopreventmyrecapture?Whatwouldn’tIdo?WouldIkilltosavemyselffromprison?
Iknewtheanswerstothosequestions,andIknewthatmypresenceinSunderdefiledthevillage.IknewthateverysmileItookfromthemwasswindled.Lifeontherunputsalieintheechoofeverylaugh,andatleastalittlelarcenyineveryactoflove.
Therewasaknockatthedoor.Icalledoutthatitwasopen.
AnandsteppedintomyroomandannouncedwithdistastethatPrabakerhadcometoseeme,withtwoofhisfriends.IclappedAnandontheback,smilingathisconcernforme,andwewalkedtothehotelfoyer.
“Oh,Lin!”Prabakerbeamed,whenoureyesmet.“Ihavetheverygoodnewsforyou!Thisismyfriend,JohnnyCigar.Heisaveryimportantfriendinthezhopadpatti,theslumwherewelive.AndthisisRaju.HehelpsMr.QasimAliHussein,whoistheheadmanintheslum.”
Ishookhandswiththetwomen.JohnnyCigarwasalmostexactlymyheightandbuild,whichmadehimtallerandheavierthantheIndianaver-age.Ijudgedhimtobeaboutthirtyyearsold.Hislongfacewascandidandalert.Thesand-colouredeyesfixedmewithasteady,confidentgaze.Histhinmoustachewastrimmedtoapreciselineoveranexpressivemouthanddeterminedjaw.Theotherman,Raju,wasonlyalittletallerthanPrabaker,andofanevenslighterbuild.Hisgentlefacewasstampedwithasadnessthatinvitedsympathy.Itwasthekindofsadnessthat’sacompanion,alltoooften,toscrupulousanduncompromisinghonesty.Thickbrowshoodedhisintelligent,darkeyes.Theystaredatme,thoseknowing,mindfuleyes,fromatired,saggingfacethatseemedmucholderthanthethirty-fiveyearsIguessedhimtobe.Ilikedbothmenonsight.
Wetalkedforawhile,thenewmenaskingmequestionsaboutPrabaker’svillageandmyimpressionsoflifethere.Theyaskedmeaboutthecity,aswell,wantingtoknowmyfavouriteplacesinBombay,andthethingsthatIlikedtodomost.Whentheconversationseemedlikelytocontinue,Iinvitedthemtojoinmeatoneofthenearbyrestaurantsforchai.
“No,no,Lin,”Prabakerdeclined,wagglinghishead.“Wemustbeleavingnow.OnlyIwantedyoutomeettheJohnnyandtheRaju,andthemtobemeetingyourgoodself,also.IthinkthatJohnnyCigarhassomethingstotellyounow,isn’tit?”
HelookedatJohnny,hiseyesandhismouthwideopen,andhishandsraisedinexpectation.Johnnygloweredathim,butthefrownquicklysoftenedintoabroadsmile,andheturnedhisattentiontome.
“Wemadeadecisionforyou,”JohnnyCigardeclared.“Youwilllivewithus.YouarePrabaker’sgoodfriend.Thereisaplaceforyou.”
“Yes,Lin!”Prabakeraddedquickly.“Onefamilyisleavingtomorrow.Andthen,thedayaftertomorrow,thathousewillbeyours.”
“But…but…”Istammered,flatteredbythegenerousgesture,andyethorrifiedatthethoughtoflifeintheslum.IrememberedmyonevisittoPrabaker’sslumonlytoowell.Thesmelloftheopenlatrines,theheart-breakingpoverty,thecrampandmillofpeople,thousandsuponthousandsofpeople-itwasakindofhell,inmymemory,anewmetaphorthatstoodfortheworst,oralmosttheworst,thatcouldhappen.
“Noproblem,Lin,”Prabakerlaughed.“Youwillbetoohappywithus,youwillsee.Andyouknow,you’relookinglikeadifferentfellownow,itistrue,butafterafewmonthswithusyouwilllookexactlythesameaseveryoneelsethere.Peoplewillthinkyouarealreadylivingintheslumforyearsandyearsandyears.Youwillsee.”
“Itisaplaceforyou,”Rajusaid,reachingoutslowlytotouchmyarm.“Asafeplace,untilyoucansaveyourmoney._Ourhotelisfree.”
Theotherslaughedatthat,andIjoinedthem,inspiredbytheiroptimismandenthusiasm.Theslumwasfilthyandcrowdedbeyondimagining,butitwasfree,andtherewerenoC-Formsfortheresidents.Itwouldgivemetimetothink,Iknew,andtimetoplan.
“I…well…thanks,Prabu.Thanks,Johnny.Thanks,Raju.Iacceptyouroffer.I’mverygrateful.Thankyou.”
“Noproblem,”JohnnyCigarreplied,shakingmyhand,andmeetingmyeyewithadetermined,penetratingstare.
Ididn’tknowthenthatJohnnyandRajuhadbeensentbytheheadmanoftheslum,QasimAliHussein,tolookmeover.Inmyignoranceandself-centeredness,I’drecoiledatthethoughtoftheterribleconditionsoftheslum,andacceptedtheirofferreluctantly.Ididn’tknowthatthehutswereinmuchdemand,andthattherewasalonglistoffamilieswaitingforaplace.Icouldn’tknow,then,thatofferingaplacetomemeantthatafamilyinneedhadmissedoutonahome.Asthelaststepinmakingthatdecision,QasimAliHusseinhadsentRajuandJohnnytomyhotel.Raju’staskwastodeterminewhetherIcouldlivewiththem.Johnny’staskwastomakesurethattheycouldlivewithme.AllIknew,onthefirstnightofourmeeting,wasthatJohnny’shandshakewashonestenoughtobuildafriendshipon,andRaju’ssadsmilehadmoreacceptanceandtrustinitthanIdeserved.
“Okay,Lin,”Prabakergrinned.“Dayaftertomorrow,wecometopickupyourmanythings,andyourgoodselfalso,inthelateofafternoon.”
“Thanks,Prabu.Okay.Butwait!Dayaftertomorrow-won’tthat…won’tthatmessupourappointment?”
“Appointment?Whatforanappointment,Linbaba?”
“The…the…StandingBabas,”Irepliedlamely.
TheStandingBabas,alegendarycloisterofmad,inspiredmonks,ranahashishdeninsuburbanByculla.Prabakerhadtakenmethereaspartofhisdarktourofthecity,monthsbefore.OnthewaybacktoBombayfromthevillage,I’dmadehimpromisetotakemethereagain,withKarla.Iknewshe’dneverbeentotheden,andIknewshewasfascinatedbythestoriesshe’dheardofit.
Raisingthematterthen,inthefaceoftheirhospitableoffer,wasungrateful,butIdidn’twanttomissthechancetoimpressherwiththevisit.
“Ohyes,Lin,noproblem.WecanstillmakeavisittothoseStandingBabas,withtheMissKarla,andafterthatwewillcollectupallyourthings.Iwillseeyouhere,dayaftertomorrowatthreeo’clockafternoon.Iamsohappyyouaregoingtobeaslum-livingfellowwithus,Lin!Sohappy!”
Hewalkedoutofthefoyeranddescendedthestairwell.Iwatchedhimjointhelightsandtrafficstirringonthenoisystreet,threefloorsbelow.Worrieswanedandreceded.Ihadawaytomakealittlemoney.Ihadasafeplacetostay.Andthen,asifthatsafetyallowedthemto,mythoughtswoundandspiralledalongthestreetsandalleystoKarla.Ifoundmyselfthinkingofherapartment,ofherground-floorwindows,thosetallFrenchdoorsthatlookedoutonthecobbledlane,notfiveminutesawayfrommyhotel.ButthedoorsIpicturedinmymindstayedshut.
AndasItried,andfailed,toformanimageofherface,hereyes,IsuddenlyrealisedthatifIbecameaslum-dweller,ifIlivedinthosesqualid,squirmingacres,Imightloseher;Iprobablywouldloseher.IknewthatifIfellthatfar,asIsawitthen,myshamewouldkeepmefromherascompletelyandmercilesslyasaprisonwall.
Inmyroom,Ilaydowntosleep.Themovetotheslumwouldgivemetime:itwasahardsolutiontothevisaproblem,butapracticalone.Ifeltrelievedandoptimisticaboutit,andIwasverytired.Ishould’vesleptwell.Butmydreamsthatnightwereviolentandtroubled.Didieroncetoldme,inarambling,midnightdissertation,thatadreamistheplacewhereawishandafearmeet.Whenthewishandthefearareexactlythesame,hesaid,wecallthedreamanightmare
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CHAPTEREIGHT
TheStandingBabasweremenwho’dtakenavownevertositdown,orliedown,everagain,fortherestoftheirlives.Theystood,dayandnight,forever.Theyatetheirmealsstandingup,andmadetheirtoiletstandingup.Theyprayedandworkedandsangstandingup.Theyevensleptwhiletheywerestanding,suspendedinharnessesthatkepttheweightoftheirbodiesontheirlegs,butpreventedthemfromfallingwhentheywereunconscious.
Forthefirstfivetotenyearsofthatconstantstanding,theirlegsbegantoswell.Bloodmovedsluggishlyinexhaustedveins,andmusclesthickened.Theirlegsbecamehuge,bloatedoutofrecognisableshape,andcoveredwithpurplevaricoseboils.Theirtoessqueezedoutfromthick,fleshyfeet,likethetoesofelephants.Duringthefollowingyears,theirlegsgraduallybecamethinner,andthinner.Eventually,onlybonesremained,withapaint-thinveneerofskinandthetermitetrailsofwitheredveins.
Thepainwasunendingandterrible.Spikesandspearsofagonystabbedupthroughtheirfeetwitheverydownwardpressure.
Tormented,tortured,theStandingBabaswereneverstill.Theyshiftedconstantlyfromfoottofootinagentle,swayingdancethatwasasmesmerising,foreveryonewhosawit,asthesound-weavinghandsofafluteplayerforhiscobras.
SomeoftheBabashadmadethevowwhentheyweresixteenorseventeenyearsold.Theywerecompelledbysomethinglikethevocationthatcallsothers,inothercultures,tobecomepriests,rabbis,orimams.Alargernumberofmucholdermenhadrenouncedtheworldasapreparationfordeathandthenextlevelofincarnation.NotafewoftheStandingBabaswerebusinessmenwho’dgiventhemselvestoruthlesspursuitsofpleasure,power,andprofitduringtheirworkinglives.Therewereholymenwho’djourneyedthroughmanyotherdevotions,masteringtheirpunishingsacrificesbeforeundertakingtheultimatevowoftheStandingBaba.Andtherewerecriminals-thieves,murderers,majormafiafigures,andevenformerwarlords-whosoughtexpiation,orpropitiation,intheendlessagoniesofthevow.
Thedenwasreallyacorridorbetweentwobrickbuildingsattherearoftheirtemple.Hiddenfromviewforever,withinthetemplecompound,werethesecretgardens,cloisters,anddormitoriesthatonlythosewhomadeandkeptthevoweversaw.Anironroofcoveredtheden.Thefloorwaspavedwithflatstones.TheStandingBabasenteredthroughadoorattherearofthecorridor.Everyoneelseenteredandleftthroughanirongateatthestreetend.
Thecustomers,menfromeverypartofthecountryandeverylevelofsociety,stoodalongthewallsofthecorridor.Theystood,ofcourse:no-oneeversatinthepresenceoftheStandingBabas.
Therewasatapfixedoveranopendrainneartheentrancegate,wheremendrankwaterorleanedovertospit.TheBabasmovedfrommantomanandgrouptogroup,preparinghashishinfunnel-shapedclaychillumsforthecustomers,andsmokingwiththem.
ThefacesoftheBabaswereradiantwiththeirexcruciation.
Soonerorlater,inthetormentofendlesslyascendingpain,everymanofthemassumedaluminous,transcendentbeatitude.
Light,madefromtheagoniestheysuffered,streamedfromtheireyes,andI’veneverknownahumansourcemorebrilliantthantheirtorturedsmiles.
TheBabaswerealsocomprehensively,celestially,andmagnificentlystoned.TheysmokednothingbutKashmiri-thebesthashishintheworld-grownandproducedatthefoothillsoftheHimalayasinKashmir.Andtheysmokeditallday,andallnight,alltheirlives.
IstoodwithKarlaandPrabakeratthebackwallofthenarrowden.BehinduswasthesealeddoorthroughwhichtheStandingBabashadentered.Infrontofusweretwolinesofmenstandingalongthewallsallthewaytotheirongateatthestreetendofthepassage.Someofthemenweredressedinsuits.Someworedesignerjeans.Workmen,wearingfadedlungis,stoodbesidemenintraditionaldressfromvariousregionsofIndia.Theywereyoungandold,richandpoor.TheireyeswereoftendrawntoKarlaandme,pale-skinnedforeigners,standingwithourbacksagainstthewall.Itwasclearthatsomeofthemwereshockedtoseeawomanintheden.Despitetheiropencuriosity,no-oneapproachedusoracknowledgedusdirectly,andforthemostparttheygavetheirattentiontotheStandingBabasandthehashish.
Conversations,buzzingsoftly,blendedwithmusicanddevotionalchanting,comingfromsomewhereinsidethecompound.
“So,whatdoyouthink?”
“It’sincredible!”shereplied,hereyesgleaminginthesoftlightoftheshadedlamps.Shewasexhilarated,andperhapsalittleunnerved.Smokingthecharrashadrelaxedthemusclesofherfaceandshoulders,butthereweretigersmovingquicklyintheeyesofhersoftsmile.“It’samazing.It’shorribleandholyatthesametime.Ican’tmakeupmymindwhichistheholypart,andwhichisthehorriblepart.Horrible-that’snottherightword,butit’ssomethinglikethat.”
“Iknowwhatyoumean,”Iagreed,thrilledthatI’dsucceededinimpressingher.She’dbeeninthecityforfiveyears,andshe’dheardabouttheBabasmanytimes,butthatvisitwithmewasherfirst.MytoneimpliedthatIknewtheplacewell,butIcouldn’tfairlyclaimcreditfortheexperience.WithoutPrabaker,who’dknockedonthegateforusandgainedaccesswithhisgoldensmile,wewouldn’thavebeenpermittedtoenter.
OneoftheStandingBabasapproachedusslowlywithanacolytewhoheldasilvertraycontainingchillums,charras,andtheparaphernaliaofsmoking.Othermonksrockedandswayedalongthelengthofthecorridor,smokingandchantingprayers.TheBabastandingbeforeuswastallandlean,buthislegsweresothicklyswollenthatdreadfulropesofdistendedveinsthrobbedontheirsurfaces.Hisfacewasthin.Thebonesofhisskull,nearthetemples,weresharplydefined.Hischeekbones,majestic,presidedoverdeepvalleysthatrantoahardandhungryjaw.Hiseyeswerehuge,withinthecavernsridgedbyhisbrows,andtherewassuchmadnessandlongingandloveinthemthathewasatoncefearsomeandimmenselypitiable.
Hepreparedthechillum,rockingfromsidetosideandsmilingabsently.Heneverlookedatus,butstillitseemedtobethesmileofaveryclosefriend:indulgent,knowing,forgiving.HewasstandingandswayingsoclosetomethatIcouldseeeachwirystrandintheforestofhisbrows.Iheardthelittlegaspsofhisbreathing.Therapidoutwardrushesofairsoundedlikewaveletsonasteepshore.Hefinishedpreparingthechillum,andlookedupatme.ForamomentIwaslostinthevisionthatswarmedandscreechedinhiseyes.ForatinymomentintheinfinitudeofhissufferingIalmostfeltit,whatthehumanwillcandrivethehumanbodytoendureandachieve.Ialmostunderstoodit,thatsmileofhis,driveninsanebythewillthatforcedittoshine.Iwassurethathewascommunicatingittome–thathewantedmetoknow.AndItriedtotellhim,withmyeyesalone,thatIcouldalmostsenseit,almostfeelit.Thenheheldthechillumtohismouth,inthefunnelofhishand,puffeditalight,andofferedittome.Thatterribleintimacywithhisunendingpainshrivelled,thevisionshimmered,andthemomentdriftedawaywiththefadingwhiteshadowsofthesmoke.Heturned,andtotteredslowlybacktowardthestreetgate,mutteringprayersinasoftdrone.
Ascreampiercedtheair.Everyoneturnedtothestreet-entrancegate.Amandressedintheredturban,vest,andsilktrousersofanortherntribesmanstoodthere,neartheirongate,shriekingattheverytopofastrongvoice.Beforewecoulddiscernhismessageorreactinanyway,themandrewalong,thick-bladedswordfromhisbeltedsashandraiseditoverhishead.Stillscreaming,hebegantostalkalongthecorridor.Hewasstaringdirectlyatmeashewalked,withastomping,marchingtread.Icouldn’tunderstandthewordshewasscreeching,butIknewwhathehadinmind.Hewantedtoattackme.Hewantedtokillme.
Themenstandingatthesidesflattenedtheirbacksagainstthewallsinstinctively.TheStandingBabasrockedthemselvesoutofthemadman’spath.Thedoorbehinduswaslockedshut.Therewasnoescape.Wewereunarmed.Themanwalkedontowardsus,wavingtheswordincirclesoverhisheadwithbothhands.Therewasnowheretogo,andnothingtodo,buttofighthim.Itookonestepbackwiththerightfoot,andraisedmyfists.Itwasakaratestance.Sevenyearsofmartialarts’trainingpulsedandflickeredinmyarmsandlegs.Ifeltgoodaboutit.Likeeveryothertough,angrymanIknew,Iavoidedfightinguntilitcametome,andthenIenjoyedit.
Atthelastpossiblemoment,amansteppedoutfromthewallattheside,trippedthegoose-steppingtribesman,andsenthimcrashingtothestonefloor.TheswordfellfromhishandandclatteredtoastopatKarla’sfeet.Isnatcheditup,andwatchedasthemanwho’dtrippedourassailantheldhiminafirmbutmercifulsubmissionhold.Hegrippedthefallenman’sarminahammerlock,behindhisback.Atthesametimehetwistedthecollaroftheman’sshirttochokeoffalittleair.
Theangerormadnessthathadpossessedtheswordsmansubsided,andhesurrenderedpassively.Menwhoknewhimsteppedforwardandescortedhimouttothealley,beyondtheirongate.Secondslater,oneofthemenreturnedandapproachedme.Lookingintomyeyes,heheldouthishands,palmsupward,forthesword.Ihesitated,butthenhandeditover.Themangaveusapoliteandapologeticbow,andlefttheden.
Inthebubbleandchatterthatfollowedhisdeparture,IcheckedonKarla.Hereyeswerewideandshepursedherlipsinawonderingsmile,butshewasn’tdistressed.Reassured,Iwenttothankthemanwho’dsteppedintohelpus.Hewastall,tallerthanIambyafewcentimetres,andhadastrong,athleticbuild.
Histhick,blackhairwasunusuallylongforBombayinthoseyears,andheworeitinahighponytail.Hissilkshirtandloosetrouserswereblack,andheworeblackleathersandals.
“Abdullah,”hereplied,whenI’dtoldhimmyname,“AbdullahTaheri.”
“Ioweyouone,Abdullah,”Isaid,givinghimasmilethatwasascautiousasitwasgrateful.He’dmovedwithsuchlethalgracethathemadethetrickofdisarmingtheswordsmanseemeffortless.Butitwasn’taseasyasitlooked.Iknewhowmuchskillandcourageithadtaken,andhowbigaroleinstincthadplayedinhistiming.Themanwasanatural;abornfighter.
“Thatwasdamnclose.”
“Noproblem,”hesmiled.“Hewasdrunk,Ithink,thatfellow,ornotrightinhishead.”
“Whateverhisproblemwas,Istilloweyouone,”Iinsisted.
“No,really,”helaughed.
Itwasaneasylaugh,revealingwhiteteeth.Thesoundofitcamefromdeepwithinhischest:alaughfromtheheart.Hiseyeswerethecolourofsand,inthepalmofyourhand,afewminutesbeforethesunsinksbelowthesea.
“Allthesame,Iwanttothankyou.”
“Okay,”heconceded,clappingahandtomyshoulder.
IreturnedtoKarlaandPrabaker.Whenweturnedtoleavetheden,Abdullahwasalreadygone.Thealleyoutsidewasdeserted,andwithinafewminuteswecaughtataxibacktoColaba.Karlawassilentduringtheride,andItoosaidnothing,miserablethatmyattempttoimpressherhadendedinsuchconfusionandneardisaster.OnlyPrabakerfeltfreetospeak.
“Whataluckyescapes!”hesaid,fromthefrontseat,grinningatusinturnaswesattogetherbutapartinthebackofthetaxi.“Ithoughtasurethingthatfellowwouldchopusupinteenypieces.Someofthepeopleshouldnotbesmokingthecharras,isn’tit?Someofthepeoplegetveryangrywhentheyrelaxtheirbrains.”
AtLeopold’sIgotoutofthetaxiandstoodwithKarlawhilePrabakerwaited.Alate-afternooncrowdsurgedaroundtheislandofoursilentstare.
“You’renotcomingin?”
“No,”Ianswered,wishingthatthemomentwasmorelikethestrong,confidentsceneI’dimaginedthroughmostofthatday.
“I’mgoingtocollectmystufffromtheIndiaGuestHouse,andmovetotheslum.Infact,Iwon’tbecomingtoLeopold’sforawhile,oranywhereelseforthatmatter.I’mgoingto…youknow…getonmyfeet…or…Idon’tknow…findmyfeet…or…I’mgoingto…whatwasIsaying?”
“Somethingaboutyourfeet.”
“Yeah,”Ilaughed.“Well,yougottastartsomewhere.”
“Thisiskindofgoodbye,isn’tit?”
“Notreally,”Imuttered.“Well,yes.Yes,itis.”
“Andyouonlyjustgotbackfromthevillage.”
“Yeah,”Ilaughedagain.“Fromthevillage,totheslum.It’squiteajump.”
“Justmakesureyoulandonyour-”
“-feet.Okay.Igotit.”
“Listen,ifit’saquestionofmoney,Icould-”
“No,”Isaidquickly.“No.Iwanttodothis.It’snotjustmoney.I…”
ForthreesecondsIbalancedontheedgeoftellingheraboutmyvisaproblems.Herfriend,Lettie,knewsomeoneattheForeignerRegistrationBranch.She’dhelpedMaurizio,Iknew,andtherewasachancethatshecouldhelpme.ButthenIdrewbackfromtheedge,andcoveredthetruthwithasmile.TellingKarlaaboutthevisawouldleadtootherquestionsthatIcouldn’tanswer.Iwasinlovewithher,butIwasn’tsurethatIcouldtrusther.It’safactoflifeontherunthatyouoftenlovemorepeoplethanyoutrust.Forpeopleinthesafeworld,ofcourse,exactlytheoppositeistrue.
“I…thinkthiswillbequiteanadventure.I’m…actuallylookingforwardtoit.”
“Okay,”shesaid,noddingherheadslowlyinacceptance.“Okay.
ButyouknowwhereIlive.Comebyandseeme,whenyougetthechance.”
“Sure,”Ianswered,andwebothsmiled,andwebothknewthatIwouldn’tvisither.“Sure.AndyouknowwhereIam,withPrabaker.Youdothesame.”
Shereachedouttotakemyhandinhers,andthenleanedovertokissmeonthecheek.Sheturnedtoleave,butIheldherhand.
“Don’tyouhaveanyadviceforme?”Iasked,tryingtofindanotherlaugh.
“No,”shesaidimpassively.“I’donlygiveyouadviceifIdidn’tcarewhathappenstoyou.”
Itwassomething.Itwasn’tmuch,butitwassomethingtoholdontoandshapemylovearound,andkeepmewishing.Shewalkedaway.IwatchedherstepintothebrittlebrightnessandbanterofLeopold’s,andIknewthatadoortoherworldhadclosed,foratime.ForaslongasIlivedintheslum,Iwouldbeexiledfromthatlittlekingdomoflight.Livingintheslumwouldconsumeme,andconcealme,aseffectivelyasifthemadswordsmanhadstruckmewithhisblade.
IslammedthedoorofthetaxiandlookedatPrabaker,whosewideandbeamingsmileacrosstheseatinfrontofmebecametheworld.
“Thikhain.Challo!”Isaid.Okay.Let’sgo!
Wepulledup,fortyminuteslater,outsidethesluminCuffeParade,besidetheWorldTradeCentre.Thecontrastbetweentheadjacentandroughlyequalplotsoflandwasstark.Totheright,lookingfromtheroad,theWorldTradeCentrewasahuge,modern,air-conditionedbuilding.Itwasfilledtothreelevelswithshops,anddisplaysofjewels,silks,carpets,andintricatecraftworks.Totheleftwastheslum,asprawlingtenacresofwretchedpovertywithseventhousandtinyhuts,housingtwenty-fivethousandofthecity’spoorestpeople.Totherighttherewereneonlightsandfloodlitfountains.Tothelefttherewasnoelectricity,norunningwater,notoilets,andnocertaintythatthewholeshambleandbustleofitwouldn’tbesweptaway,fromonedaytothenext,bythesameauthoritiesthatreluctantlytoleratedit.
Iturnedmyeyesfromtheglamorouslimousines,drawnupoutsidetheTradeCentre,andbeganthelongwalkintotheslum.Therewasanopenlatrineneartheentrance,concealedbytallweeds,andscreensmadefromreedmats.Thesmellwasappallingandalmostoverpowering.Itwaslikeaphysicalelementpermeatingtheair,anditseemedthatIcouldfeelitsettleonmyskininathickening,slimyooze.Gaggingandswallowingbacktheimpulsetovomit,IglancedatPrabaker.
Hissmilehaddimmed,andforthefirsttimeIsawsomethinglikecynicisminit
“See,Lin,”hesaidwiththatuncharacteristicallyhardlittlesmiledrawingdownthecornersofhismouth,“Seehowthepeoplelive.”
Oncepastthelatrinesandwithinthefirstlaneofhuts,however,therewerefitfulgustsofwindfromawidearcofseacoastthatformedthefurthermostedgeoftheslum.Theairwashotandsteamy,butthebreezedispersedthenoisomestinkfromthelatrine.Smellsofspices,cooking,andincensepredominated.Seenupclose,thehutswerepitifulstructuresmadefromscrapsofplasticandcardboard,thinbamboopoles,andflatreedmatsforwalls.Theywereerectedoverbareearth.
Patchesofconcreteandstoneworkshowedinsomeplaceswheretheoldfloorsandfoundationsoftheoriginalbuildings,clearedfromthesiteyearsbefore,remainedintact.
AsIwalkedalongthenarrowrag-and-plasticlanesoftheslum,wordspreadthattheforeignerwasonhisway.AlargecrowdofchildrengatheredandpooledaroundPrabakerandme,closetousbutnevertouching.Theireyeswerewidewithsurpriseandexcitement.Theyburstintofiercegustsofnervouslaughter,shoutedtooneanother,andleaptintojerky,spontaneousdancesasweapproached.
Peoplecameoutoftheirhutstostandineverydoorway.Dozens,andeventuallyhundreds,ofpeoplecrowdedintotheside-lanesandtheoccasionalgapsbetweenthehouses.Theywereallstaringatmewithsuchgravity,suchafixityoffrowningintensity,thatIfeltsuretheymustbearmeenormousill-will.Iwaswrong,ofcourse.Icouldn’tknowthen,onmyfirstday,thatthepeopleweresimplystaringatmyfear.Theyweretryingtounderstandwhatdemonshauntedmymind,causingmetodreadsoterriblytheplacetheyknewtobeasanctuaryfromfatesfarworsethanslumlife.
Andthefactwasthatforallmyfearofitsswarmandsqualor,Ididknowafatefarworsethanslumlife.ItwasafatesobadthatI’dclimbedaprisonwallandgivenupeverythingthatIknew,everythingIwas,everythingIloved,toescapeit.
“Thisisnowyourhouse,Lin,”Prabakerproudlyannouncedoverthegigglingandchatterofthechildrenwhenwereachedthehut.
“Goinside.Seeallforyourself.”Thehutwasidenticaltotheothersaroundit.Theroofwasasheetofblackplastic.Theframewasmadefromthinbamboopolesboundtogetherwithcoconut-fibretwine.Thewallsweremadefromhand-wovenreedmatting.Thefloorwasbareearth,pressedflatandsmoothbythefeetofthehut’sprevioustenants.Thedoorwasathinpieceofplywooddanglingonropehinges.TheplasticceilingwassolowthatIhadtostoop,andthewholeroomwasaboutfourpaceslongbytwopaceswide.Itwasalmostexactlythesamesizeasaprisoncell.
Iputmyguitarinonecorner,andthendraggedthefirst-aidkitfromthepack,settingitupinanothercorner.Ihadacoupleofwirecoat-hangers,andIwashangingmyfewclothesintheuppercornersofthehutwhenPrabakercalledmefromoutside.
IsteppedouttofindJohnnyCigar,Raju,Prabaker,andseveralothermenstandingtogetherinthelane.IgreetedthoseIknew,andwasintroducedtotheothers.
“ThisisAnand,yourneighbourontheoneside-onleftside,”
Prabakersaid,bringingmetoshakehandswithatall,handsome,youngSikhwhoworehislonghairinatightyellowscarf.
“Hello,”Isaid,smilinginresponsetothewarmthofhisstronghandshake.“IknowanotherAnand-themanageroftheIndiaGuestHouse.”
“Isheagoodman?”Anandaskedthroughapuzzledfrown.
“He’saniceguy.Ilikehim.”
“Good,”Anandreplied,givingmeaboyishsmilethatunderminedtheserioustoneinhisdeepvoice.“Thenwearehalfthewaytobeingfriends,na?”
“Anand,heshareshishousewithanotherofbachelors,withnameRafiq,”Prabakercontinued.
Rafiqwasaboutthirtyyearsold.Astragglybearddangledfromhispointedchin.Hisveryprominentfrontteethgapedfromanimpoverishedgrin.Hiseyesnarrowedunfortunatelyintheexpression,andgavehimasly,almostmalevolentappearance.
“Ontheothersideisourverygoodneighbour,Jeetendra.HiswifehasthenameRadha.”
Jeetendrawasshortandplump.Hesmiledhappilyandshookmyhand,rubbingvigorouslyathisprominentpaunchallthewhile.
Hiswife,Radha,acknowledgedmysmileandnodofgreetingbydrawingherredcottonshawloverherheadandholdingitacrossherfacewithherteeth.“Doyouknow,”Anandsaidinagentle,conversationaltonethatcaughtmebysurprise,“itisa_fire,Ibelieve.”
Hewasstandingonhisstretchedtoes,andshadinghiseyesfromtheafternoonsunwithhishandashelookedawayacrosstheblackdunesofthehuts.Everyonefollowedhisgaze.Therewasahumid,ominoussilence.Then,severalhundredmetresaway,agorgeousplumeoforangeflameseruptedskyward.Anexplosionfollowed,soundinglikeashotgunblastintoametalshed.Everymanranattoppaceinthedirectionoftheyellowspearsofflamethatroseinthedistance.
Istoodstill,fascinated,bewildered,staringattheflamesandspiralsofsmoke.AsIwatched,thejetsoffireexpandedtobecomeasheetandthenawallofsearingflames.Thered,yellow,andorangewallbegantoadvancewiththebreezefromthesea,engulfingnewhutseveryfewseconds.Itwasheadingdirectlytowardme,ataslowwalkingpace,incineratingeverythingthatstoodinitspath.
Explosionsthunderedintheblaze-one,two,another.Irealised,atlast,thattheywerekerosenestoves.Everyoneoftheseventhousandhutshadastove.Thosethatwerepumpedupandunderpressurewereexplodingwhentheflamesreachedthem.Thelastmonsoonrainhadfallenweeksbefore.Theslumwasahugepileoftinder-drykindling,andastrengtheningseabreezefannedtheflamesthroughawholeacreoffuelandhumanlives.
Stunned,afraid,butnotinpanic,Iwatchedtheinexorableadvanceoftheinferno,anddecidedthatthecausewaslost.Irushedintothehut,seizedmypackandbelongings,andscrambledforthedoor.AtthethresholdIdroppedthepack,andstoopedtoretrievetheclothesandotheritemsthathadspilledtotheground.Intheact,Ilookeduptoseesometwentyormorewomenandchildren,standinginagroupandwatchingme.Foraninstantofperfect,wordlesscommunication,Iknewexactlywhattheywerethinking.Westaredacrosstheopenground,andIheardtheirspeakingminds.
Lookatthebig,strongforeigner,savinghimself,andrunningawayfromthefire,whileourmenruntowardsit…
Ashamed,Istuffedmybelongingsintothepack,andplaceditatthefeetofthewoman,Radha,who’dbeenintroducedasmyneighbour.ThenIturnedandrantowardthefire.
Slumsareplanless,organicdispersements.There’spurposeinthenar-row,twistinglanes,butnoorder.Withinthreeorfourturns,Iwaslost.Iraninalineofmenwhoweremovingtowardthesmokeandflames.Besideus,running,staggering,andbumpingalongthelaneintheoppositedirection,wasaconstantfileofotherpeoplemovingawayfromthefire.Theywerehelpingtheelderlyandherdingthechildren.Somecarriedpossessions-clothes,cookingpots,stoves,andcardboardboxesofdocuments.Manyofthemwereinjured,showingcuts,bloodywounds,andseriousburns.Thesmellofburningplastic,fuel,clothes,hair,andfleshwasacridandunnerving.
Iturnedablindcorner,andanother,andanother,untilIwasnearenoughtoheartheroaringflamesabovetheshoutsandscreams.Thenadazzlinglybrilliantfireballburstthroughthegapbetweentwohuts.Itwasscreaming.Itwasawoman,engulfedinflames.Sheranstraightatme,andwecollided.
MyfirstimpulsewastospringawayasIfeltmyhair,eyebrows,andeyelashesburnoffinthecontactwithher.Shestumbled,andfelloverbackwards,stillscreamingandthrashing.Irippedtheshirtfrommyback.Usingittoprotectmyhandsandface,Ithrewmyselfonher,smotheringtheflameswithmyskinandclothes.Othersrushedforwardandtendedtoher.Iranontowardthefireagain.ShewasstillalivewhenIlefther,butavoiceinmymindwasdeclaringherdead.She’sdead…she’sgone…shewon’tmake_it…
Themawofthefire,whenIdidreachit,wasterrifying.Theflamesroaredtotwoorthreetimestheheightofthetallesthut,andrangedacrossasemi-circularfront,archedawayfromus,thatwasfiftyormorehutswide.Wilfulgustsofwinddrovethearcforwardinprobingfeints,flaringupsuddenlyononeside,andthenblazingtowardusfromadifferentdirection.
Behinditwastheinferno,acauldronofburninghuts,explosions,andpoisonoussmoke.
Amanstoodinthecentreofthelargearcofopenspacebeforethewallofflames,directingthosewhowerefightingthefireasifhewasageneralorderingtroopsintobattle.Hewastallandlean,withsilver-greyhair,andashort,pointed,silver-greybeard.Hewasdressedinawhiteshirt,whitetrousers,andsandals.Therewasagreenscarftiedathisneck,andheheldashort,brass-tippedwoodenstickinhishand.HisnamewasQasimAliHussein,andthatwasmyfirstglimpseoftheheadmanintheslum.QasimAli’sdoubletacticwastosendbeatersagainstthefiretoslowitdownwhileotherteamsdemolishedthehutsthatstoodinthefire’spath,anddraggedawaytheircontentstodeprivethefireoffuel.Thatinvolvedastaggeredretreat,cedinglandtotheflamesallthewhile,andthenlaunchingcounter-attackswhereverthefireseemedtoweaken.Slowlyturninghisheadandsweepinghisgazebackandforthacrossthefrontofthefire,Qasimpointedwiththebrass-tippedstick,andshoutedcommands.
Theheadmanturnedhisgazeinmydirection.Asliverofsurprisegleamedinthepolishedbronzeofhiseyes.Hisscrutinytookintheblackenedshirtinmyhand.Withoutaword,heliftedhissticktopointtowardtheflames.Itwasareliefandanhonourtoobeyhim.Itrottedforwardandjoinedateamofbeaters.IwasverygladtofindJohnnyCigarinthesameteam.
“Okay?”heshouted.Itwasbothencouragementandenquiry.
“Okay!”Ishoutedback.“Weneedmorewater!”
“Thereisnomorewater!”hecalledback,gaspingasthesmokeeddiedaroundus.“Thetankisempty.Truckswillfillituptomorrow.Thewaterthatpeopleareusinghereistheirration.”
Idiscoveredlaterthateveryhousehold,myownincluded,wasrationedtotwoorthreebucketsofwaterperdayforallcooking,drinking,andwashingneeds.Theslum-dwellersweretryingtoputthefireoutwiththeirdrinkingwater.Everybucketthrown,andthereweremany,forcedonemorehouseholdtospendathirstynight,waitingforthemorningdeliveryofwaterincitycounciltrucks.
“Ihatethesefuckingfires!”Johnnycursed,slammingdownwardwithawetsacktoemphasisehiswords.“Comeon,youfuck!Youwantto_killme?Comeon!Wewillbeatyou!Wewillbeatyou!”
Asuddenquirkofthefiresentaburstoforangeflametowardus.Themanbesidemefellbackward,screamingandclutchingathisburnedface.QasimAlidirectedarescueteamtohelphimaway.IseizedhisdiscardedsackandfellintolinebesideJohnny,slammingattheflameswithonehandandshieldingmyfacewiththeother.
Weglancedoverourshoulders,often,toreceivedirectionsfromQasimAliHussein.Wecouldn’thopetoputthefireoutwithourwetrags.Ourrolewastogaintimeforthedemolitionteamsscramblingtoremoveendangeredhuts.Itwasheartbreakingwork.
Theyweresavingtheslumbydestroyingtheirownhouses.Andtogaintimeforthosewreckingteams,Qasimsentusleftandrightindesperatechessmoves,starvingthefire,andslowlywinningground.
Whenonesquallingdowndraftofwindsweptblackandbrownsmokeintoourclearing,welostsightofQasimAliHusseincompletely.
Iwasn’ttheonlymanwhothoughttopullbackinretreat.Then,throughthesmokeanddust,wesawhisgreenscarf,heldaloftandflutteringinthebreeze.Hestoodhisground,andIglimpsedhiscalmface,summingupthestatusofthestruggleandcalculatinghisnextmove.Thegreenscarfrippledabovehisheadlikeabanner.Thewindchangedagain,andwehurledourselvestothetaskoncemore,inspiredwithnewcourage.Theheartofthemanwiththegreenscarfwasinme,andinallofus.
Intheend,whenwe’dmadeourlastsweepthroughthescorchedlanesandcharredlumpsofhouses,lookingforsurvivorsandcountingthedead,westoodtogetherinamournfulassemblytohearthetally.Itwasknownthattwelvepersonsweredead,sixofthemelderlymenandwomen,andfourofthemchildren.Morethanonehundredwereinjured,withburnsandcuts.Manyofthemwereseriouswounds.Aboutsixhundredhouseswerelost-one-tenthoftheslum.
JohnnyCigarwastranslatingthefiguresforme.Iwaslisteningtohimwithmyheadclosetohis,butwatchingQasimAli’sfaceashereadfromhishastilypreparedlistofthedeadandinjured.WhenIturnedtolookatJohnny,Ifoundthathewascrying.Prabakerpushedthroughthecrowdtojoinus,justasJohnnytoldmethatRajuwasoneofthosewho’ddiedinthefire.
Raju,withthesad,honest,friendlyface;themanwho’dinvitedmetoliveintheslum.Dead.
“Damnlucky!”Prabakersummedupcheerfully,whenQasimAlihadcalledthetally.Hisroundfacewassoblackenedwithsootthathiseyesandteethseemedalmostsupernaturallybright.“Lastyear,inthelastbigfire,afullone-thirdofthezhopadpattiwasburningup.Onehousefromeverythreehouses!Morethantwothousandhousesgone!Kalaass!Morethanfortypeopledyingalso.
Forty.It’stoomany,Lin,letmetellyou.Thisyearisaveryluckyfire.Andourhousesaresafealso!Bhagwanhaveblessingsonourbrother,Raju.”
Shoutsfromtheedgeofthesombrecrowddrewourattention,andweturnedtoseeoneofthesearchteamspushingtheirwaythroughtoQasimAli.Awomanfromtheteamwascarryingababythey’drescuedfromthesmoulderingrubble.Prabakertranslatedtheexcitedshoutandchatterforme.Threeadjoininghutshadcollapsedintheblaze,fallingonafamily.Inoneofthoseinexplicablequirksofthefire’saction,theparentsofthechildhadsuffocatedanddied,butthechild,ababygirl,hadsurvived.
Herfaceandbodywereuntouched,butherlegswereseverelyburned.Somethinghadfallenacrossthematmid-thigh,andtheywereblack,split,andcracked.Shewasscreaminginpainandterror.
“Tellthemtocomewithus!”IshoutedtoPrabaker.“Leadmebacktomyhut,andtellthemtofollowus.I’vegotmedicineandbandages!”
Prabakerhadseenthelargeandimpressivefirst-aidkitmanytimes.Heknewitincludedbandages,salves,andcreams,disinfectantsolutions,swabs,probes,andanarrayofsurgicalinstruments.Graspingmymeaningatonce,heshoutedamessagetoQasimAliandtheothers.Iheardthewordsmedicineanddoctorrepeatedseveraltimes.Thenhegraspedmysleeveanddraggedmewithhim,joggingbacktothehut.
Withthekitopenonthegroundinfrontofmyhut,Iappliedlocalanaestheticcreamtothebaby’slegsinathicksmear.Itbegantoworkalmostatonce.Thebabysettleddowntoaquietwhimper,andcuddledwithinherrescuer’sarms.
“Doctor…doctor…doctor…”peoplesaid,allaroundme.
QasimAlicalledforlampstobebroughtasthesunsetontheArabianSea,andthelongBombayeveningfinallysuccumbedtowarm,star-fillednight.Bytheyellowflickeringlamplightwetendedtothewoundedslum-dwellers,usingmyfirst-aidkitasthebasisofourlittleopen-airclinic.JohnnyCigarandPrabakerworkedwithmeastranslatorsandnurses.Themostcommoninjurieswereburns,cuts,anddeepgashes,butagreatmanypeoplewerealsoaffectedbysmokeinhalation.
QasimAliHusseinwatchedusforashortwhile,andthenlefttosupervisetheerectionofemergencyshelters,therationingofremainingwatersupplies,thepreparationoffood,andthedozenothertasksthatwouldfillthenighttomorningandbeyond.Acupofteaappearedbesideme.MyneighbourRadhahadmadeitandbroughtittome.ItwasthefirstthingIateordrankintheslum,anditwasthebestchaiIevertastedinmylife.Anhourlater,sheforcedherhusbandandtwootheryoungmentodragmefromtheinjuredpeopletoeatamealofrotibread,rice,andbhajee.Thecurriedvegetablesweredeliciouslyspiced,andIcleanedtheplatewiththelastbiteofroti.Andagain,hourslater,aftermidnight,itwasRadha’shusband,Jeetendra,whopulledatmyarmanddrewmeintomyhut,whereahand-crochetedblankethadbeenspreadoutonthebareearth.
Unresisting,Icollapsedontheblanketformyfirstnightofsleepintheslum.
Sevenhourslater-hoursthatpassedasiftheywereminutes-IwoketoseePrabaker’sfacehoveringintheair.Iblinked,andsquinted,andrealisedthathewassquattingonhishaunches,withhiselbowsonhisknees,andhisfacecuppedinhishands.
JohnnyCigarwassquattingbesidehim,onhisleft,andJeetendrawasonhisright.
“Goodmorning,Linbaba!”hesaid,cheerfully,whenmyeyessettledonhis.“Yoursnoringsisafabulousthing.Soloud!Likehavingabullockinthishut,Johnnysaidso.”
Johnnynoddedhisagreement,andJeetendrawaggedhisheadfromsidetoside.
“OldSarabaiishavingafirst-classcureforsnorings,”Prabakerinformedme.“Shecantakeoneverysharppiecesofbamboo,aboutsameaslongasmyfinger,andpushitupinsideofyournose.
Afterthat,nomoresnoring.Bas!Kalaass!”
Isatupontheblanket,andstretchedthestiffnessfrommybackandshoulders.Myfaceandeyeswerestillgrittyfromthefire,andIcouldfeelthatthesmokehadstiffenedinmyhair.Lancesofmorninglightstabbedthroughholesinthewallsofthehut.
“Whatareyoudoing,Prabu?”Iaskedirritably.“Howlonghaveyoubeenwatchingmesleeping?”
“Nosoverylong,Lin.Onlyforthehalfhoursorso.”
“It’snotpolite,youknow,”Igrumbled.“It’snotnicetowatchpeoplewhenthey’resleeping.”
“I’msorry,Lin,”hesaidquietly.“InthisIndiawecanseeeverybodysleeping,atsometimes.Andwesaythattheface,whenitisinsleeping,isthefriendoftheworld.”
“Yourfaceissokindwhenyouaresleeping,Lin,”JohnnyCigaradded.“Iwasverysurprised.”
“Ican’tbegintotellyouwhatthismeanstome,guys.CanIexpecttofindyouinthehut,everymorning,whenIwakeup?”
“Well,ifyoureally,reallywant,Lin,”Prabakeroffered,jumpingtohisfeet.“Butthismorningweonlycametotellyouthatyourpatientsareready.”“My…patients?”
“Yes.Comeandsee.”
Theystood,andopenedthedoorofthehut.Sunlightsplinteredintomyburningeyes.Iblinked,andsteppedthrough,followingthemenintothebrilliant,baysidemorningtoseealineofpeoplesquattingonthegroundoutsidemyhut.Therewerethirtyormoreofthemformingaqueuealongthelengthofthelanetothefirstturn.
“Doctor…doctor…”peoplemurmuredandwhisperedwhenIemergedfromthehut.
“Comeon!”Prabakerurged,tuggingatmyarm.
“Comeonwhere?”
“Firsttotoilet,”hereplied,happily.“Youmustmakeamotions,isn’tit?Iwillshowyouhowwemakeamotions,intothesea,onthelongcementjetty.Thatiswheretheyoungmenandboysmaketheirmotions,everymorning,intotheoceans-motionsintotheoceans,isn’tit?Youjustbesquattingdown,withyourbuttockspointingontheoceans.Thenyouwashyourgoodselfwithashower,andyouhaveitahappybreakfast.Thenyoucaneasilyfixupallyourpatients.Noproblem.”
Wewalkedalongthelengthofthequeue.Theywereyoungandold,menandwomen.Theirfaceswerecut,bruised,andswollen.Theirhandswereblackened,blistered,andbloody.Therewerearmsinslings,andlegsinsplints.Andatthefirstturn,Isawtomyhorrorthatthequeueextendedintothenextlane,andwaslonger,muchlonger.
“We’vegotto…dosomething…”Imumbled.“They’reall…waiting.”
“Noproblem,waiting,Lin,”Prabakerreplied,airily.“Thepeoplearewaitingmorethanonehouralready.Ifyouarenotwithus,theywouldstillbewaiting,butwaitingfornothingonly.
Waitingfornothing,thatiswhatkillstheheartofaman,isn’tit?Nowthepeoplearewaitingforsomething.Waitingforyou,theyare.Andyouareareallysomething,Lin-Shantaram,ifyoudon’tmindI’msayingittoyoursmokyfaceandsticking-uphairs.Butfirst,youmustmakeitmotions,andthenwashing,andthenbreakfast.Andwehavetogetgoing–someyoungfellowsarewaitingdownthereonthejetty,andwantingtoseeyoumakeyourmotions.”
“Theywhat?”
“Ohyes!Theyareafascinatingforyou.Youarelikeamovieheroforthem.Theyaredyingtoseehowyouwillmakeyourmotions.Andthen,afterallthesethings,youwillreturn,andfixthepatients,likeareallyhero,isn’titso?”
Andinthatwaywasmyroleintheslumcreated.Iffatedoesn’tmakeyoulaugh,Karlasaid,inoneofmyfirstconversationswithher,thenyoujustdon’tgetthejoke.AsateenagerI’dtrainedinfirst-aidtreatment.Theformalcourseofstudyhadcoveredcuts,burns,sprains,breaks,andawiderangeofdiagnosticandemergencyprocedures.Later,I’dearnedmynickname,Doc,byusingmytraininginCPRtopulljunkiesoutofoverdoses,andsavetheirlives.TherewerehundredsofpeoplewhoonlyknewmeasDoc.Manymonthsbeforethatmorningintheslum,myfriendsinNewZealandhadgivenmethefirst-aidkitasagoing-awaypresent.Iwassurethosethreads-thetraining,thenickname,thefirst-aidkit,theworkasunofficialdoctorintheslum-wereallconnectedinsomewaythatwasmorethanaccidentorcoincidence.
Andithadtobeme.Anotherman,withmyfirst-aidtrainingorbettertrained,wouldn’thavebeenforcedbycrimeandaprison-breaktoliveintheslum.Anothercriminal,readytolivetherewiththepoor,wouldn’thavehadmytraining.Icouldn’tmakesenseoftheconnectiononthatfirstmorning.Ididn’tgetthejoke,andfatedidn’tmakemelaugh.ButIknewtherewassomething-somemeaning,somepurpose,leadingmetothatplace,andthatjob,atexactlythattime.Andtheforceofitwasstrongenoughtobindmetothework,wheneveryintuitiontriedtowarnmeaway.
So,Iworkedintotheday.Onebyone,thepeoplegavemetheirnamesandtheirsmilesand,onebyone,Ididmybesttotreattheirwounds.Atsomepointduringthemorning,someoneputanewkerosenestoveinmyhut.Someoneelseprovidedametalboxforrat-proofstorageoffood.Astoolfounditswayintomyhut,andawaterpot-theubiquitousmatka-andasetofsaucepans,andafewpiecesofcutlery.
Aseveningthrobbedinascarletarchofsky,wesatinagroup,nearmyhut,toeatandtalk.Sadnesslingeredinthebusylanes,andmemoriesofthosewho’ddiedrecededandreturnedlikewavesmovingonthegreatoceanoftheheart.Yetcarriedonthatsadness,apartofsorrowingitself,wasthedeterminationofthosewho’dendured.Thescorchedearthhadbeenclearedandcleaned,andmanyofthehutswerealreadyrebuilt.Hopesrosewitheveryhumblehomethatwasrestored.
IlookedatPrabaker,laughingandjokingasheate,andIthoughtofourvisitwithKarlatotheStandingBabas.Onemomentfromthatevening,oneheartbeat’slengthoftimeasthecrazedmanhadchargedatuswithasword,wasstretchedinmymemory.AtthepreciseinstantwhenItookthatstepbackwardsandraisedmyhandsinaboxingstancetofight,Prabakertookasteptotheside,andstoodinfrontofKarla.Hewasn’tinlovewithher,andhewasn’tafighter.YethisfirstinstinctwastostepsidewaysandprotectKarlabyshieldingherwithhisbody,whilemyfirstthoughtwastostepbackandfight.
Ifthemadswordsmanhadn’tbeentripped,ifhe’dreachedus,Iwould’vebeentheonetofighthim.And,probably,Iwould’vesavedus:I’dfoughtmenwithfists,knives,andclubsbefore,andI’dwon.Buteventhen,evenifithadgonethatfar,Prabakerwould’vebeentherealhero,forthebraveryofthatlittle,instinctive,sidewaysstep.
I’dgrowntolikePrabaker.I’dlearnedtoadmirehisunshakeableoptimism.I’dcometodependonthecomfortingwarmthhisgreatsmileprovided.AndI’denjoyedhiscompany,dayandnight,throughthemonthsinthecityandthevillage.Butinthatminute,onmysecondnightintheslum,asIwatchedhimlaughingwithJeetendra,JohnnyCigar,andhisotherfriends,Ibegantolovehim.
Thefoodwasgood,andtherewasenoughforall.Musicplayedonaradiosomewhere.Itwasthefine,almostunbearablysweetsopranoandhappy,boastingtenorofaduetfromanIndianmovie.
Thepeopletalked,nourishingoneanotherwiththeirsmilesandconversation.Andsometimeduringthecourseofthatlove-song,somewhereinthelandscapeoftheslum-dwellers’reassurances,somehowthroughthefactofoursurvival,theirworldenfoldedmylifewithinitsdreams,asgentlyandcompletelyasaswollentidedosesoverastonethatstandsuponitsshore.
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PARTTWO
CHAPTERNINE
Iescapedfromprisoninbroaddaylight,astheysay,atoneo’clockintheafternoon,overthefrontwallandbetweentwogun-towers.Theplanwasintricateandmeticulouslyexecuted,uptoapoint,buttheescapereallysucceededbecauseitwasdaringanddesperate.Thebottomlineforus,oncewestarted,wasthattheplanhadtosucceed.Ifitfailed,theguardsinthepunishmentunitwerequitecapableofkickingustodeath.
Thereweretwoofus.Myfriendwasawild,big-heartedtwenty-fiveyearoldservingalifesentenceformurder.Wetriedtoconvinceothermentoescapewithus.Weaskedeightofthetoughestmenweknew,allofthemservingtenstraightyearsormoreforcrimesofviolence.Onebyone,theyfoundanexcusenottojoinintheattempt.Ididn’tblamethem.MyfriendandIwereyoungfirst-offenderswithnocriminalhistory.Wewereservingbigyears,butwehadnoreputationintheprisonsystem.Andtheescapewe’dplannedwasthekindthatpeoplecallheroicifitsucceeds,andinsaneifitfails.Intheend,wewerealone.
Wetookadvantageofextensiverenovationsthatwerebeingcarriedoutontheinternalsecurity-forcebuilding-atwo-storeyofficeandinterrogationblocknearthemainentrancegateatthefrontwall.Wewereworkingasmaintenancegardeners.Theguardswhopulledshiftsintheareasawuseveryday.Whenwewenttoworkthere,onthedayoftheescape,theywatchedusforawhile,asusual,andthenlookedaway.Thesecurity-forcebuildingwasempty.Therenovationworkerswereatlunch.Inthefewlongsecondsofthelittleeclipsecreatedbytheguards’boredomandtheirfamiliaritywithus,wewereinvisible,andwemadeourmove.
Cuttingourwaythroughthechain-linkfencethatclosedofftherenovationsite,webrokeopenadoortothedesertedbuildingandmadeourwayupstairs.Theinteriorwashollowedoutbytherenovation.Unplasteredwallsshowedtheskeletonstructureofuprightsandload-bearingbeams.Thebare,woodenstepsonthestairwaywerewhitewithdust,andlitteredwithfragmentsofbrickandplaster.Therewasamanholeintheceilingonthetopfloor.
Standingonmyfriend’sstrongshoulders,Ipunchedoutthewoodentrapdoorinthemanholeandclimbedthrough.Ihadanextensioncordwithme,wrappedaroundmybodyundermycoveralls.Iuncoileditandpulleditfree,fixedoneendtoaroofbeam,andpassedtheotherdowntomyfriend.Heusedittoclimbupintotheroof-spacewithme.
Theroofstretchedoutinzigzagwaves.Wescrambledtowardthenarrowingpinchofspacewheretheroofmetthefrontwalloftheprison.Ichoseaspotononeofthetroughstocutourwaythrough,hopingthatthepeaksoneithersidewouldconcealtheholefromthegun-towers.Itwasdarkeverywhereintheroof-space,butinthatnarrowwedgenearthewallitwasblackerthanaguard’sbaton.
Withacigarettelighterforalantern,weworkedtocutourwaythroughthedouble-thicknessofhardwoodthatseparatedusfromthetinontheoutsideoftheroof.Alongscrewdriver,achisel,andapairoftinsnipswereouronlytools.Afterfifteenminutesofhacking,scraping,andstabbingatthewood,we’dclearedalittlespaceaboutthesizeofaman’seye.Wavingtheflameofthehotcigarettelighterbackandforth,wecouldseetheglintofthemetalroofbeyondthesmallhole.Butthewoodwastoohardandtoothick.Withthetoolswehad,itwouldtakeushourstomakeaman-sizedhole.
Wedidn’thavehours.Wehadthirtyminutes,weguessed,ormaybealittlemore,beforetheguardsdidaroutinecheckofthearea.
Inthattimewehadtogetthroughthewood,cutaholeinthetin,climboutontheroof,useourpowerextensioncordasarope,andclimbdowntofreedom.Theclockwastickingonus.Weweretrappedintheroofofthesecuritybuilding.Andanyminute,weknew,theguardsmightnoticethecutfence,seethebrokendoor,andfindthesmashedmanhole.Anyminutetheycouldcomeupthroughthemanholeintothatblack,sweatingcave,andfindus.
“We’vegottagoback,”myfriendwhispered.“We’llnevergetthroughthewood.We’vegottagoback,andpretenditneverhappened.”
“Wecan’tgoback,”Isaidflatly,althoughthethoughthadscreamedthroughmymindaswell.“They’llfindallthebrokenstuff,thefencewecut,andthey’llknowitwasus.We’retheonlyonesallowedinthearea.Ifwegoback,we’reintheSlotforayear.”
TheSlotwasprisonslangforthepunishmentunit.Inthoseyears,thatunit,inthatprison,wasoneofthemostinhumaneinthecountry.Itwasaplaceofrandom,brutalbeatings.Afailedattempttoescapethroughtheroofofthesecurity-forcebuilding–theirbuilding,theheadofficeforthepunishmentunitguards–wouldensurethatthebeatingswerelessrandomandmorebrutal.
“Wellwhatthefuckarewegonnado?”myfrienddemanded,shoutingwitheverythingbuthisvoice.Sweatdrippedfromhisface,andhishandsweresowetwithfearthathecouldn’tholdthecigarettelighter.
“Ithinkthere’stwopossibilities,”Ideclared.
“Whatarethey?”
“First,wecouldusethatladder-theonethat’schainedtothewalldownstairs.Wecouldgodownagain,breakthechainofftheladder,tietheextensioncordtothetopofit,slamitupagainstthewall,climbup,andthrowdownthecordontheotherside.Thenwecanslidedowntothestreet.”
“That’sit?”
“That’sthefirstplan.”
“But…they’llseeus,”myfriendprotested.
“Yeah.”
“Andthey’llstartshootingatus.”
“Yeah.”
“They’llshootus.”
“Yousaidthat.”
“Well,fuckme,”hehissed.“Ithinkitbearsrepeating.It’safuckin’salientpoint,don’tyouthink?”
“Ifigurethatoneofuswillgetthrough,maybe,andoneofuswillgetshot.It’sfifty-fifty.”
Weconsideredtheoddsinsilenceforawhile.
“Ihatethatplan,”myfriendshuddered.
“SodoI.”
“What’sthesecondplan?”
“Didyounoticethatbuzzsaw,onthegroundfloor,aswecameuphere?”
“Yeah…”“Ifwebringituphere,wecouldusethebuzzsawtocutthroughthewood.Thenwecanusethetinsnipstocutthroughthetin.
Afterthat,it’sbacktotheoriginalplan.”
“Butthey’llhearthething,”myfriendwhisperedfiercely.“Icanhearthemtalkingonthefuckin’telephone.We’rethatclose.
Ifwedragthesawuphere,andfireitup,it’llsoundlikeafuckin’helicopter.”
“Iknow.ButIthinkthey’lljustfigureit’stheworkers,doingmorework.”
“Buttheworkersaren’there.”
“No,buttheshiftatthegateischanging.There’snewguardscomingonduty.It’sabigchancetotake,butIthinkifwedoitthey’lljusthearthenoise,asusual,andthinkit’stheworkers.They’vebeenlisteningtodrillsandhammersandbuzzsawsforweeks.Andthere’snowaytheycouldimaginethatit’susdoingit.They’dneverfigurethatcrimswouldbecrazyenoughtouseapowersaw,rightnexttothemaingate.Ithinkit’sourbestshot.”
“IhatetobeMister-fuckin’-Negativehere,”heobjected,“butthere’snoelectricityinthisbuilding.Theyshutitofffortherenovating.Theonlypowerpointisoutside.Theextensioncordislongenoughtoreachdownthere,Ithink,butthepowerisoutsidethebuilding.”
“Iknow,Iknow.Oneofuswillhavetogodown,creepoutthedoorwebustedopen,andplugtheextensioncordintotheoutsidepoweroutlet.It’stheonlyway.”
“Whogoesdownthere?”
“I’lldoit,”Isaid.Itriedtosoundconfidentandstrong,buttherearesomeliesthatthebodyjustwon’tbelieve,andthewordscameoutasasqueak.
Iscrambledovertothemanhole.Mylegswerestiffwithdreadandtension-cramp.Isliddowntheextensioncordandcreptdownthestairwaytothegroundfloor,playingthecordoutalltheway.Itreachedtothedoor,withplentytospare.Thebuzzsawwasrestingnearthedoor.Itiedtheextensioncordaroundthehandleofthesaw,andranbackupthestairs.Myfriendpulledthesawupintothemanholeandthenpassedthecordbacktome.
OncemoreIcreptdowntothedoor.Withmybodypressedflatagainstawall,Ibreathedhard,andtriedtofindthecouragetoopenthedoor.Atlast,withaheart-wrenchingrushofadrenaline,Ipushedthedoorasideandsteppedoutintotheopentoplugthecordintothesocket.Theguards,armedwithpistols,weretalkingamongthemselves,nottwentymetresfromthedoor.Ifoneofthemhadbeenfacingmyway,itwouldVebeenover.Iglanceduptoseethattheywerelookingineverydirectionbutmine.Theyweretalkingandwalkingaboutinthegatearea,andlaughingatajokesomeonehadjustcracked.No-onesawme.Islippedbackinsidethebuilding,crawledlikeawolfonallfoursupthestairs,anddraggedmyselfupthecordtothemanhole.
Inthedarkcornernearthetroughinthezigzagroofspace,myfriendlitthecigarettelighter.Isawthathe’dconnectedthepowersawtothecord.Hewasreadytomakethecut.Itookthelighter,andhelditforhim.Withoutasecondofhesitation,hehoistedtheheavysawandclickedittolife.Themachinescreamedlikethewhineofajetengineonarunway.Myfriendlookedatme,andahugegrintorehismouthopen.Histeethwereclenchedinthesmile,andhiseyeswereglitteringwiththereflectedfire.Thenhedrovethesawintothethickwood.Withfourswift,ear-splittingcuts,hemadeaperfectholethatrevealedasquareofgleamingtin.
Wewaitedinthesilencethatfollowed,ourearsringingwithdiminishingechoes,andourheartsthumpingatourchests.Afteramomentweheardatelephoneringcloseby,atthemaingate,andwethoughtwewerefinished.Thensomeoneansweredthephone.
Itwasoneofthegateguards.Weheardhimlaughandtalkoninarelaxed,conversationaltone.Itwasokay.Weweresafe.They’dheardthepowersaw,ofcourse;but,justasI’dhoped,they’ddismisseditasnoisemadebytheworkmen.
Heartened,Ipunchedaholeinthetinwiththescrewdriver.
Sunlightfromthefreeskyaboveshotinonus.Iwidenedthehole,andthenusedthetinsnipstocutapaneloftinaroundthreesides.Pushingwithtwosetsofhands,weshovedtheflapoftinoutwards,andIpokedmyheadthroughthehole.Isawthatwehadindeedcutourwayintooneofthetroughsoftheroof.
ThedeepestpartofthatV-shapedtrenchwasablindspot.Ifwelaydowninthatnarrowdefilewecouldn’tseethetowerguards,andtheycouldn’tseeus.
Wehadonejoblefttodo.Thepowercordwasstillpluggedintotheoutlet,downstairsandoutsidethebuilding.Weneededthecord.Itwasourrope.Weneededittoclimbdowntheoutsideoftheprisonwalltothestreet.Oneofushadtogodownthestairs,pushoutthroughthedoorinfullviewoftheguardsintheadjacentgatearea,unplugthepowercord,andthenclimbbackupintotheroofagain.Ilookedatmyfriend,hissweatingfaceclearinthebrightlightbathingusfromtheholewe’dcutintheroof,andIknewithadtobeme.
Downstairs,withmybackagainsttheinsidewall,nexttothedoor,Ipausedagain,andtriedtowillthestrengthintomyarmsandlegsforthemoveoutintotheopen.IwasbreathingsohardthatIfeltdizzyandnauseous.Myheart,likeatrappedbird,hurleditselfagainstthecageofmychest.Afterafewlongmoments,IknewIcouldn’tdoit.Everything,fromjudiciouscautiontosuperstitiousterror,screamedatmenottogooutthereagain.AndIcouldn’t.
Ihadtocutthecord.Therewasnootherway.Itookthechiselfromtheside-pocketofmycoveralls.Itwasverysharp,evenaftertheworkwe’ddonewithitintryingtopenetratethewoodenbarrierintheroof.Iplaceditagainstthetrailingpowercord,whereitenteredunderthedoor.Iraisedmyhandtostrike.ThethoughtoccurredtomethatifIblewoutthepowerbycuttingthroughthecorditcouldsoundanalarm,andperhapssendaguardintothebuildingtoinvestigate.Itdidn’tmatter.
Ididn’thaveanychoice.IknewIcouldn’tgooutintotheopenagain.Islammedmyhanddownhardontothechisel.Itcutthroughthecord,andembeddeditselfinthewoodenfloor.Isweptthesnippedendsofthecordawayfromthemetalchisel,andwaitedforthesoundofanalarmorthetumbleofvoicestoapproachfromthegatearea.Therewasnothing.Nothing.Iwassafe.
Igrabbedthelooseendofthepowercord,andrushedbackupstairsandintotheroofspace.Atthenewmanholewe’dcutintheroof,wesecuredthecordtoaheavy,woodenbearerbeam.
Thenmyfriendstartedoutthroughthehole.Whenhewashalfwayontothetinroof,hegotstuck.Forafewmoments,hecouldn’tmoveupwardandhecouldn’tmoveback.Hebegantothrashwildly,strainingwithallhisstrength,butitwashopeless.Hewasstuckfast.
Itwasdarkagainintheroofspace,withhisbodyblockingtheholewe’dmade.Iscrabbledaroundwithmyhandsinthedust,betweentheroofjoists,andfoundthecigarettelighter.WhenIstruckit,Isawatoncewhathadtrappedhim.Itwashistobaccopouch-athick,leatherwalletthathe’dmadeforhimselfinoneofthehobbygroups.Tellinghimtoholdstill,Iusedthechiseltotearaflapinthepocketatthebackofhiscoveralls.WhenIrippedthepocketaway,thetobaccopouchfellfreeintomyhands,andmyfriendwentupthroughtheholeandontotheroof.
Ifollowedhimuptothetinroof.Wrigglinglikewormsinthegutterofthetrough,wemovedforwardtothecastellatedfrontwalloftheprison.Weknelttolookoverthewall.Wewerevisiblethen,forafewseconds,butthetowerguardsweren’tlookingourway.Thatpartoftheprisonwasapsychologicalblindspot.Thetowerguardsignoreditbecausetheydidn’tbelievethatanyonewouldbecrazyenoughtoattemptadaylightescapeoverthefrontwall.
Riskingaquick,franticglimpseatthestreetbelow,wesawthattherewasaqueueofvehiclesoutsidetheprison.Theyweredeliverymen,waitingtoenterthroughthemaingate.Becauseeachvehiclewassearchedthroughout,andcheckedwithmirrorsbeneath,thequeuemadeslowprogress.MyfriendandIhunkereddowninthetroughtoconsiderouroptions.
“That’samessdownthere.”
“Isaywegonow,”hesaid.
“Wehavetowait,”Icountered.
“Fuckit,justthrowthecordoverandlet’sgo.”
“No,”Iwhispered.“There’stoomanypeopledownthere.”
“Sowhat?”
“Oneofthem’llplayhero,forsure.”
“Fuckhim.Lethimplayhero.We’lljustgooverthetopofhim.”
“There’stoomanyofthem.”
“Fuckthemall.We’llgostraightthrough’em.Theywon’tknowwhathit’em.It’susorthem,mate.”
“No,”Isaidfinally.“Wehavetowait.Wehavetogooverwhenthere’sno-onedownthere.Wehavetowait.”
Andwedidwait,foratwenty-minuteeternity,andIwriggledforwardagainandagaintolookoverthewall,riskingexposureeverytime.Then,atlast,Ilookeddowntothestreetandsawthatitwascompletelyemptyinbothdirections.Igavemyfriendthesignal.Hescrambledforwardoverthewall,anddownoutofsight.Icreptforwardtolook,expectingtoseehimclimbingdownthecord,buthewasalreadyonthestreet.Isawhimdisappearintoanarrowlane,acrossthestreetfromtheprison.
AndIwasstillinside,ontheroof.
Iclamberedoverthebluestoneparapet,andtookholdofthecord.Standingwithmylegsagainstthewall,andthecordinbothhands,mybacktothestreet,Ilookedatthegun-toweronmyleft.Theguardwastalkingintoatelephoneandgesturingwithhisfreehand.Hehadanautomaticrifleslungoverhisshoulder.Ilookedtotheothertower.Theguardthere,alsoarmedwitharifle,wascallingdowntoanotherguardinsidetheprisoninthegatearea.Hewassmilingandrelaxed.Iwasinvisible.Iwasstandingonthefrontwallofthetoughestmaximum-securityprisoninthestate,andIwasinvisible.
Ipushedoffwithmylegsandstartedthedescent,butmyhandsslipped-thefear,thesweat-andIlostthecord.Ifell.Itwasaveryhighwall.Iknewitwasakillingfalltothegroundbelow.Inanagonyofterroranddesperation,Igrabbedatthecordandseizedit.Myhandswerethebrakesthatslowedmyfall.
Ifelttheskintearawayfrommypalmsandfingers.Ifeltitsingeandburn.Andslower,butstillhardenoughtohurt,Islammedintotheground,stood,andstaggeredacrosstheroad.Iwasfree.
Ilookedbackattheprisononce.Thecordwasstilldanglingoverthewall.Theguardswerestilltalkingintheirtowers.Acardriftedpastonthestreet,thedriverdrumminghisfingersonthesteeringwheelintimetoasong.Iturnedmyback.IwalkedonthroughthelaneintoahuntedlifethatcostmeeverythingI’deverloved.
WhenIcommittedthearmedrobberies,Iputfearintopeople.
Fromthattime-evenasIdidthecrimes-andonthroughprisonandlifeontherun,fateputfearintome.Thenightsweresteepedinit,andsometimesIfeltasifthebloodandthebreathinmybodywereclottedwithfright.ThefearI’dputintoothersbecametenterrors,fifty,athousand,fillingtheloneliesthoursofeverynightwithdread.
Byday,inthoseearlyBombaymonths,whentheworldworkedandworriedaroundme,Iwedgedmylifeintoabusythicknessofduties,needs,andsmallpleasures.Butatnight,whenthesleepingslumdreamed,thehorrorcreptacrossmyskin.Myheartbackedawayintoablackcaveofmemory.AndIwalkedmostnights,whilethecityslept.Iwalked,andIforcedmyselfnottolookovermyshoulderatthegun-towersandthedanglingpowercordonthehighwallthatwasn’tthere.
Thenights,atleast,werequiet.Atmidnight,everynightinthoseyears,thecopsimposedacurfewonBombay.Halfanhourbeforetwelve,policejeepsgatheredinthemainstreetsofthecentralcity,andbegantheenforcedclosureofrestaurants,bars,stores,andeventhetinypavementshopsthatsoldcigarettesandpaan.Thebeggars,junkies,andhookerswhoweren’talreadyathomeorhidingwerechasedfromthefootpaths.
Steelshutterscamedownovertheshopwindows.Whitecalicoclothswerethrownoverthetablesinallthemarketsandbazaars.Quietandemptinessdescended.InthewhirlandcrushofpeopleandpurposesinBombay’sdaylightscramble,itwasimpossibletoimaginethosedesertedsilences.Buteachandeverynightwasthesame:soundless,beautiful,andthreatening.Bombaybecameahauntedhouse.
Fortwotothreehoursaftermidnight,inanoperationknownastheround-up,squadsofplain-clothescopspatrolledthevacantstreetsinsearchofcriminals,junkies,suspects,andhomeless,unemployedmen.Morethanhalfthepeopleinthecitywerehomeless,ofcourse,andmanyofthemlived,ate,andsleptonthestreets.Thesleeperswereeverywhere,stretchedoutonthefootpathswithonlyathinblanketandacottonsheettokeepoutthedampofnight.Singlepeople,families,andwholecommunitieswho’descapedsomedrought,flood,orfaminesleptonthestonepathsandindoorways,huddledtogetherinbundlednecessity.
ItwastechnicallyillegaltosleeponthestreetsinBombay.Thecopsenforcedthatregulation,buttheywereaspragmaticaboutitastheywereaboutenforcingthelawsagainstprostitutionontheStreetofTenThousandWhores.Acertaindiscriminationwasrequired,andinfactthelistofthosetheywouldn’tarrestforthecrimeofhomelessnesswasquitelong.Sadhusandallotherreligiousdevotees,forexample,wereexempted.Elderlypeople,amputees,thesick,ortheinjureddidn’tfindmuchsympathy,andweresometimesforcedtomoveontoanotherstreet,buttheyweren’tarrested.Lunatics,eccentrics,anditinerantentertainerssuchasmusicians,acrobats,jugglers,actors,andsnakecharmerswereoccasionallyroughedup,buttheywereinvariablyexcludedfromtheround-up.Families,particularlythosewithyoungchildren,usuallyreceivednomorethanasternwarningnottoremainlongerthanafewnightsinagivenarea.
Anymanwhocouldprovehehadajob,howevermenial,bydisplayingthebusinesscardorwrittenaddressofhisemployer,wasspared.Singlemenwhowerecleanandrespectfulandcoulddemonstratesomelevelofeducationcouldusuallytalktheirwayoutofanarrest,eveniftheyweren’temployedanywhere.And,ofcourse,anyonewhocouldpaybaksheeshwassafe.
Thatlefttheverypoor,homeless,unemployed,uneducated,singleyoungmenasthehigh-riskgroupinthemidnightround-up.Withnomoneytopaytheirwayoutofthepolicenet,andnotenougheducationtotalktheirwayout,scoresofthoseyoungmenwerearrestedthroughoutthecity,everynight.Someofthemwerearrestedbecausetheyfitteddescriptionsofwantedmen.Somewerefoundtohavedrugsorstolengoodsintheirpossession.
Somewerewellknown,andthecopsarrestedthemroutinely,onsuspicion.Many,however,weresimplydirtyandpoorandstrickenwithasullenhelplessness.
Thecitydidn’thavethefundstoprovidethousandsofpairsofmetalhandcuffs;andevenifthemoneywerefound,thecopsprobablywouldn’thaveburdenedthemselveswithheavychains.
Instead,theycarriedlengthsofroughtwinemadefromhempandcoconutfibres,andusedittotiethearrestedmenonetotheotherbytherighthand.Thethinropewasenoughtoholdthemenbecausethevictimsofnightlyround-upsweremostlytooweak,under-nourished,andspirituallydefeatedtorun.Theysubmittedmeekly,silently.Whenbetweenadozenandtwentymenhadbeenarrestedandtiedintothehumanchain,thesixoreightcopsintheround-upsquadmarchedthembacktoholdingcells.
Fortheirpart,thecopswerefairerthanI’dexpectedthemtobe,andundeniablybrave.Theywerearmedonlywiththethinbamboocaneknownasthelathi.Theycarriednoclubs,gas,orguns.Theyhadnowalkie-talkies,sotheycouldn’tcallforback-upiftheyranintotroubleonthepatrols.Therewerenovehiclestosparefortheround-up,sothesquadswalkedthemanykilometresoftheirbeat.Andalthoughtheystruckoutoftenwiththelathi,savageorevenseriousbeatingswererare-muchlessfrequentthanpolicebeatingsinthemodern,westerncitywhereI’dgrownup.
Nevertheless,theround-updidmeandays,weeks,orevenmonthsofconfinementfortheyoungmeninprisonsthatwereasbadasanyinAsia,andthecaravansofroped,arrestedmenthatshambledthroughoutthecity,aftermidnight,weremoremelancholyandforlornthanmostfuneralprocessions.
Inmylate-nightwalksaroundthecity,Iwasinvariablyalonewhentheround-upwasdone.Myrichfriendsfearedthepoor.Mypoorfriendsfearedthecops.Mostforeignersfearedeverybody,andkepttotheirhotels.ThestreetsweremineasIsearchedtheircoolsilences.
Ononeofthosenightwalks,aboutthreemonthsafterthefire,IfoundmyselfontheseawallatMarineDrive.Thebroadfootpathbesidetheseawallwasbareandclean.Asix-laneroadseparatedtheseasidepathfromahorizon-wide,incurvingcrescentofaffluence:finehomes,expensiveapartments,consularoffices,first-classrestaurants,andhotelsthatlookedoutovertheblackandheavingsea.
TherewereveryfewcarsontheDrive,thatnight,onlyoneeveryfifteenortwentyminutes,travellingslowly.Fewlightsshoneinanyoftheroomsacrossthestreetbehindme.Acoolwindcarriedtheclean,saltairinirasciblegusts.Itwasquiet.Theseawaslouderthanthecity.
Someofmyfriendsfromtheslumworriedaboutmewalkingaloneonthestreetsatnight.Don’twalkatnight,theysaid.ThenightisnosafetyinBombay.Butitwasn’tthecitythatIfeared.Ifeltsafeonthestreets.Strangeandtroubledasmylifewas,thecityenfoldeditwithinthemillionsofothersasif…asifitbelongedthere,nolessthananyother.
AndtheworkIwasdoingenhancedthatsenseofbelonging.Igavemyselfassiduouslytotheroleofslumdoctor.Ifoundbooksondiagnosticmedicine,andstudiedthembylamplightinmyhut.Iaccumulatedamodestcacheofmedicines,salves,andbandages,buyingthemfromlocalchemistswithmoneyIearnedinblack-marketdealswithtourists.AndIstayedonthere,inthosesqualidacres,evenafterI’dmadeenoughmoneytoleave.IstayedoninthecrampedlittlehutwhenIcould’vemovedtoacomfortableapartment.Iallowedmylifetobesweptupinthebroiling,dancingstruggleoftheirtwenty-fivethousandlives.IboundmyselftoPrabakerandJohnnyCigarandQasimAliHussein.
AndalthoughItriednottothinkofKarla,myloveputclawsinthesky.Ikissedthewind.Ispokehername,whenIwasalone.
Ontheseawall,Ifeltthecoolbreezewashacrosstheskinofmyfaceandchestlikewaterpouredfromaclaymatka.Therewasnosoundbutmyownbreathinthewindandthecrashofdeepwaterontherocks,threemetresbelowthewall.Thewaves,reachingupinsplashandspindrift,pulledatme.Letgo.Letgo.Getitoverwith.Justfalldownanddie.Soeasy.Itwasn’ttheloudestvoiceinmymind,butitcamefromoneofthedeepestsources-theshamethatsmotheredmyself-esteem.Theshamedknowthatvoice:Youleteveryonedown.Youdon’tdeservetolive.Theworldwouldbebetteroffwithoutyou…AndforallthatItriedtobelong,tohealmyselfwiththeworkintheclinic,tosavemyselfwiththefoolnotionofbeinginlovewithKarla,thetruthwasthatIwasaloneinthatshame,andlost.Theseasurgedandshovedattherocksbelow.Onepush,anditwouldallbeover.Icouldfeelthefall,thecrashasmybodystrucktherocks;thecoldslipperinessofdrowningdeath.Soeasy.
Ahandtouchedmyshoulder.Thegripwassoftandgentle,butfirmenoughtoholdmethere.Iturnedquicklyinshockedsurprise.Therewasatall,youngmanstandingbehindme.Hishandremainedonmyshoulderasiftobracemethere;asifhe’dreadmythoughtsafewmomentsbefore.
“YournameisMr.Lin,Ibelieve,”hesaidquietly.“Idon’tknowifyoucanrememberme-mynameisAbdullah.WemetatthedenoftheStandingBabas.”
“Yes,yes,”Istammered.“Youhelpedus,helpedme.Irememberyouwell.Youleft-youdisappeared-beforeIgottothankyouproperly.”
Hesmiledeasily,andtookawayhishandtorunitthroughhisthick,blackhair
“Noneedforthanks.Youwouldbedoingthesameforme,inyourcountry,isn’tit?Come,thereissomeonewhowantstomeetyou.”
Hegesturedtoacarthatwasparkedatthekerbtenmetresaway.
Ithaddrawnupbehindme,andthemotorwasstillrunning,butsomehowI’dfailedtohearit.ItwasanAmbassador,India’smodestversionofaluxurycar.Thereweretwomeninside-adriver,andonepassengerintheback.
AbdullahopenedthereardoorandIstoopedtolookinside.Amaninhismiddletolatesixtiessatthere,hisfacehalfilluminatedbythestreetlights.Itwasalean,strong,intelligentfacewithalong,thinnoseandhighcheekbones.Iwasstruckandheldatoncebytheeyes,anamberbrillianceofamusementandcompassionandsomethingelse-ruthlessness,perhaps,orlove.Hishairandbeardwereclose-croppedandwhite-grey.
“YouareMr.Lin?”hesaid.Hisvoicewasdeep,resonant,andsupremelyconfident.“Iampleasedtomeetyou.Yes,verypleased.Ihaveheardsomethinggoodaboutyou.Itisalwaysadelighttoheargoodthings-andevenmorepleasurable,whenitconcernsforeigners,hereinourBombay.Perhapsyouhaveheardofmealso.MynameisAbdelKhaderKhan.”
Sure,I’dheardofhim.EveryoneinBombayhadheardofhim.Hisnameappearedinthenewspaperseveryotherweek.Peoplespokeabouthiminthebazaarsandnightclubsandslums.Hewasadmiredandfearedbytherich.Hewasrespectedandmythologisedbythepoor.Hisdiscoursesontheologyandethics,heldinthecourtyardoftheNabilaMosqueinDongri,werefamousthroughoutthecity,anddrewmanyscholarsandstudentsfromeveryfaith.Nolessfamouswerehisfriendshipswithartists,businessmen,andpoliticians.
HewasalsooneofthelordsofBombay’smafia-oneofthefoundersofthecouncilsystemthathaddividedBombayintofiefdomsruledbyseparatecouncilsofmafiadons.Thesystemwasagoodone,peoplesaid,andpopular,becauseithadbroughtorderandrelativepeacetothecity’sunderworldafteradecadeofbloodypowerstruggles.Hewasapowerful,dangerous,brilliantman.
“Yes,sir,”Ianswered,shockedthatI’dinadvertentlyusedthewordsir.Iloathedtheword.Inthepunishmentunitwewerebeatenwheneverwefailedtoaddresstheguardsas_sir.“Iknowyourname,ofcourse.ThepeoplecallyouKhaderbhai.”
Thewordbhai,attheendofhisname,meantelderbrother.Itwasatermofrespectfulendearment.HesmiledandnoddedhisheadslowlywhenIsaidit:Khaderbhai.
Thedriveradjustedhismirrorandfixedmeinit,staringexpressionlessly.Therewerefreshjasmineflowershangingingarlandsfromthemirror,andtheperfumewasintoxicating,almostdizzyingafterthefreshwindfromthesea.AsIleanedintothedoorwayofthecar,Ibecameacutelyconsciousofmyselfandmysituation:mystoopingposture;thewrinklesinmyfrownasIliftedmyfacetoseehiseyes;therimofgutteringattheedgeofthecar’sroofundermyfingertips;andasticker,pastedtothedashboard,thatreadGODBLESSIAMDRIVINGTHISCAR.
Therewasno-oneelseonthestreet.Nocarspassed.Itwassilent,butfortheidlingengineofthecarandthemuffledchurningoftheshufflingwaves.
“YouarethedoctorintheColabahutments,Mr.Lin.Iheardofitatonce,whenyouwenttolivethere.Itisunusual,aforeigner,livinginthehutments.Thisbelongstome,youunderstand.Thelandwherethosehutsstand-itbelongstome.
Youhavepleasedmebyworkingthere.”
Iwasstunnedintosilence.TheslumwhereIlived,knownasthezhopadpatti,orthehutments,halfasquarekilometre,withtwenty-fivethousandmen,women,andchildren,belongedtohim?
I’dlivedthereformonths,andI’dheardKhaderbhai’snamementionedmanytimes,butno-onehadeversaidthatheownedtheplace.Itcan’tbe,Iheardmyselfthinking.Howcananyonemanownsuchaplace,andallitslives?
“I,er,I’mnotadoctor,Khaderbhai,”Imanagedtotellhim.
“Perhapsthatiswhyyouarehavingsuchsuccessintreatingthesick,Mr.Lin.Doctorswillnotgointothehutmentswillingly.
Wecancompelmennottobebad,butwecannotcompelthemtobegood,don’tyoufind?Myyoungfriend,Abdullah,recognisedyoujustnow,aswepassedyou,sittingonthewall.Iturnedthecartocomebackhereforyou.Come-sitinsidethecarwithme.Iwilltakeyousomewhere.”
Ihesitated.
“Please,don’ttroubleyourself.I…”
“Notrouble,Mr.Lin.Comeandsit.Ourdriverismyverygoodfriend,Nazeer.”
Isteppedintothecar.Abdullahclosedthedoorbehindme,andthensatinthefrontnexttothedriver,whoadjustedthemirrortofindandfixmeinitagain.Thecardidn’tmoveoff.
“Chillumbono,”KhaderbhaisaidtoAbdullah.Makeachillum.
Abdullahproducedoneofthefunnel-shapedpipesfromhisjacketpocket,placeditontheseatbesidehim,andsetaboutmullingtogetheramixofhashishandtobacco.Hepressedaball,knownasagoli,ofhashishontotheendofamatchstick,andburneditwithanothermatch.Thesmellofthecharrascoiledintotheperfumeofthejasmineflowers.Theengineofthecarwasstillidlingslowlyandquietly.No-onespoke.
Inthreeminutesthechillumwasprepared,andofferedtoKhaderbhaiforthefirstdumm,orpuff.Hesmoked,andpassedthepipetome.Abdullahandthedriversmokedthen,passingthechillumforonemoreround.Abdullahcleanedthepipequicklyandefficiently,andreturnedittohispocket.
“Challo,”Khadersaid.Let’sgo.
Thecarmovedawayfromthekerbslowly.Streetlightsbegantostreamintotheslopingwindshield.Thedriversnappedacassetteintothedashboardplayer.Thesoul-wrenchingstrainsofaromanticgazalslammedoutatmaximumvolumefromspeakersbehindourheads.IwassostonedthatIcouldfeelmybraintremblingwithinmyskull,butwhenIlookedattheotherthreementheyappearedtobeperfectlycontrolledandcomposed.
TheridewaseerilysimilartoahundredstoneddriveswithfriendsinAustraliaandNewZealandwhenwe’dsmokedhashorgrass,putloudmusiconthedashboardplayer,andcruisedtogetherinacar.Withinmyownculture,however,itwasmainlytheyoungwhosmokedandcruisedwiththemusiconmax.There,IwasinthecompanyofaverypowerfulandinfluentialseniormanwhowasmucholderthanAbdullah,thedriver,andme.Andwhilethesongsfollowedregularrhythms,theywereinalanguagethatIcouldn’tunderstand.Theexperiencewasfamiliaranddisturbingatthesametime-somethinglikereturning,asanadult,totheschoolyardofchildhood-anddespitethesoporificslumpofthedrug,Icouldn’tentirelyrelax.
Ihadnoideawhereweweregoing.Ihadnoideahoworwhenwewouldreturn.WeweretravellingtowardTardeo,whichwastheoppositedirectiontomyhomeintheColabaslum.Astheminutespassed,IreflectedonthatparticularlyIndiancustomofamiableabduction.Formonths,intheslum,I’dsuccumbedtothevagueandmysteriousinvitationsoffriendstoaccompanythemtounspecifiedplaces,forunknownpurposes.Youcome,peoplesaidwithsmilingurgency,neverfeelingtheneedtotellmewhereweweregoing,orwhy.Youcomenow!I’dresisteditafewtimes,atfirst,butIsoonlearnedthatthoseobscure,unplannedjourneyswereinvariablyworthwhile,frequentlyinterestingandenjoyable,andquiteoftenimportant.Littlebylittle,Ilearnedtorelax,andsubmit,andtrustmyinstincts,justasIwasdoingwithKhaderbhai.Ineverregrettedit,andIwasneveroncehurtordisappointedbythefriendswhoabductedme.
Asthecarcrestedthelong,slowhill,leadingdowntotheHajiAliMosque,AbdullahturnedoffthecassetteandaskedKhaderbhaiifhewantedtomakehisregularstopattherestaurantthere.
Khaderstaredatmereflectivelyforamoment,andthensmiledandnoddedtothedriver.Hetappedmeonthehandtwicewiththeknucklesofhislefthand,andtouchedhisthumbtohislips.Besilentnow,thegesturesaid.Look,butdon’tspeak.
Wepulledintoaparkingbay,besideandalittleapartfromarowoftwentyothercarsoutsidetheHajiAliRestaurant.
AlthoughmostofBombaysleptaftermidnight,oratleastpretendedtosleep,therewerecentresofsoundandcolourandactivityinthecity.Thetricklayinknowingwheretofindthem.TherestaurantneartheHajiAlishrinewasoneofthoseplaces.Hundredsofpeoplegatheredthereeverynighttoeat,andmeet,andbuydrinksorcigarettesorsweets.Theycameintaxisandprivatecarsandonmotorcycles,hourafterhour,untildawn.Therestaurantitselfwassmallandalwaysfull.Mostofthepatronspreferredtostandonthefootpath,andsitinorontheircars,toeat.Musicblastedfrommanyofthecars.PeopleshoutedinUrdu,Hindi,Marathi,andEnglish.Waitersscurriedfromthecountertothecarsandback,carryingdrinks,parcels,andtrayswithstylishskill.
Therestaurantbrokethebusinesscurfew,andshould’vebeencloseddownbytheofficersoftheHajiAlipolicepost,whichwasonlytwentymetresaway.ButIndianpragmatismrecognisedthatcivilisedpeopleinlarge,moderncitiesneededplacestogatherandhunt.Theownersofcertainoasesofnoiseandfunwerepermittedtobribevariousofficialsandcopsinordertostayopen,virtuallyallnight.Thatwasn’t,however,thesamethingashavingalicence.Suchrestaurantsandbarswereoperatingillegally,andsometimestheappearanceofcompliancehadtobedisplayed.RegularphonecallsalertedthepolicepostatHajiAliwhenacommissioneroraministerorsomeotherVIPintendedtodrivepast.Withaco-operativebustle,thelightswereturnedout,thecarsdispersed,andtherestaurantwasforcedtoatemporaryclose.Farfromdiscouragingpeople,thatsmallinconvenienceaddedatouchofglamourandadventuretothecommonplaceactofbuyingsnacks.EveryoneknewthattherestaurantatHajiAli,likeeveryotherillegalnightspotintownthatfakedaclose,wouldreopeninlessthanhalfanhour.
Everyoneknewaboutthebribesthatwerepaidandtaken.Everyoneknewaboutthewarningphonecalls.Everyoneprofited,andeveryonewaswellpleased.Theworstthingaboutcorruptionasasystemofgovernance,Didieroncesaid,isthatitworkssowell.
Theheadwaiter,ayoungMaharashtrian,hurrieduptothecarandnoddedenergeticallyasourdriverorderedforus.Abdullahgotoutofthecar,andwalkedtothelong,crowdedtake-awaycounter.Iwatchedhim.Hewalkedwithanathlete’stouchygrace.
Hewastallerthanmostoftheotheryoungmenaroundhim,andtherewasastriking,heads-upconfidenceinhisbearing.Hisblackhairwaslongattheback,reachingalmosttohisshoulders.Heworesimple,inexpensiveclothes-softblackshoes,blacktrousers,andawhitesilkshirt-buttheysuitedhimwell,andhecarriedthemwithacertainmartialelegance.Hisbodywaswellmuscled,andhelookedtobeabouttwenty-eightyearsold.
Heturnedtowardthecar,andIcaughtsightofhisface.Itwasahandsomeface,calmandcomposed.Iknewthesourceofthatcomposure.I’dseentheswiftandlethalwayhe’dmovedtodisarmtheswordsmanatthedenoftheStandingBabas.
AfewcustomersandallofthecounterstaffrecognisedAbdullah,andtalked,smiled,orjokedasheorderedcigarettesandpaan.
Theirgestureswereexaggerated.Theirlaughterwaslouderthanithadbeenmomentsbefore.Theycrowdedagainstoneanother,andreachedouttotouchhimoften.Itseemedthattheywerealmostdesperatetobelikedbyhim,evenjusttobenoticedbyhim.Buttherewashesitancyaswell-akindofreluctance-asif,despiteeverythingintheirtalkandsmiles,theydidn’treallylikeortrusthim.Itwasalsoveryclearthattheywereafraidofhim.
Thewaiterreturned,andpassedourfoodanddrinkstothedriver.HelingeredattheopenwindowbesideKhaderbhai,hiseyespleadingtospeak.
“Yourfather,Ramesh,heiswell?”Khaderaskedhim.
“Yes,bhai,heiswell.But…but…Ihaveaproblem,”theyoungwaiteranswered,inHindi.Hetuggednervouslyattheedgeofhismoustache.
Khaderbhaifrowned,andstaredhardintotheworriedface.
“Whatkindofproblemareyouhaving,Ramesh?”
“It’s…it’smylandlord,bhai.Thereis…therewillbeaneviction.I,we,myfamily,wearepayingdoublerentalready.
Butthelandlord…thelandlordisgreedy,andhewantstoevictus.”
Khadernoddedthoughtfully.Drawingencouragementfromhissilence,RameshplungedoninrapidHindi.
“It’snotjustmyfamily,bhai.Allthefamiliesinthebuildingaretobeevicted.Wehavetriedeverything,madeverygoodoffers,butthelandlordwillnotlistentous.Hehasgoondas,andthosegangstershavemadethreats,andevendonesomebeatings.Myownfatherwasbeaten.IamashamedthatIhavenotkilledthatlandlord,bhai,butIknowthatthiswouldonlybringmoretroubleonmyfamilyandtheotherfamiliesinthebuilding.
Itoldmyveryhonouredfatherthatweshouldtellyou,andthatyouwouldprotectus.Butmyfatheristooproud.Youknowhim.
Andhelovesyou,bhai.Hewillnotdisturbyourpeacetoaskforhelp.HewillbeveryangryifheknowsthatIspokeofourtroubleinthisway.ButwhenIsawyoutonight,mylordKhaderbhai,Ithoughtthat…thattheBhagwanhadbroughtyouheretome.I…Iamverysorrytodisturbyou…”Hefellsilent,swallowinghard.Hisfingerswerewhiteintheirgriponhismetaltray.
“Wewillseewhatcanbedoneaboutyourproblems,Ramu,”
Khaderbhaisaidslowly.TheaffectionatediminutiveofthenameRamesh,Ramu,provokedawide,child’ssmileontheyoungface.
“Youwillcomeandseemetomorrow,attwoo’clocksharp.Wewilltalkfurther.Wewillhelpyou,Inshallah.Oh,andRamu-therewillbenoneedtospeaktoyourfatheraboutthis,untiltheproblem,Inshallah,hasbeensolved.”
RameshlookedasthoughhewantedtoseizeKhader’shandandkissit,buthesimplybowedandbackedaway,mutteringhisthanks.
Abdullahandthedriverhadorderedplatesoffruitsaladandcoconutyoghurt,andtheyatewithnoisyappreciationwhenthefourofuswerealone.KhaderbhaiandIhadorderedonlymango-flavouredlassi.Aswesippedtheiceddrinks,anothervisitorcametothewindowofthecar.ItwasthechiefofficeroftheHajiAlipolicepost.
“Agreathonourtoseeyouagain,Khaderji,”hesaid,hisfacewrithingintoagrimacethatwaseitherareactiontostomachcramp,oranoilysmile.HespokeHindiwiththestrongaccentofsomedialect,andIfounditdifficulttounderstand.HeaskedafterKhaderbhai’sfamily,andthenmadesomereferencetobusinessinterests.
Abdullahputhisemptyplatedownonthefrontseat,anddrewapacket,wrappedinnewspapers,fromundertheseat.HepasseditacrosstoKhader,whoopenedacornerofthepackettorevealathickbundleofhundred-rupeenotes,andthenpasseditcasuallythroughthewindowtothecop.Itwasdonesoopenly,andevenostentatiously,thatIfeltsureitwasimportanttoKhaderthateveryonewithinahundredmetreswouldseethebribemadeandtaken.
Thecopscrunchedtheparcelintothefrontofhisshirt,andleanedasidetospittwicenoisily,forluck.Hecameclosetothewindowoncemore,andbegantospeakinaquick,urgentmurmur.Icaughtthewordsbodyandbargain,andsomethingabouttheThiefBazaar,butIcouldn’tmakesenseofit.Khadersilencedhimwitharaisedhand.AbdullahlookedfromKhadertome,andthenbrokeintoaboyishgrin.
“Comewithme,Mr.Lin,”hesaidquietly.“Wewillseethemosque,isn’tit?”
AswegotoutofthecarIheardthecopsayloudly,ThegoraspeaksHindi?Bhagwansaveusfromforeigners!Wewalkedtoadesertedspotontheseawall.Themosque,atHajiAli,wasbuiltuponasmall,flatislandthatwasconnectedtothemainlandbyastonepath,threehundredandthirty-threestepslong.Fromdawntodusk,thetidepermitting,thatbroadpathwaywasthrongedwithpilgrimsandtourists.Athightide,thepathwascompletelysubmerged,anddeepwatersisolatedtheisland.Seenfromtheretainingwallontheroadbesidethesea,themosqueatnightseemedlikeagreatmooredship.Brasslanterns,throwinggreenandyellowlight,swungfrombracketsonthemarblewalls.Inthemoonlight,theteardroparchesandroundedcontoursglowedwhiteandbecamethesailsofthatmysticship,andtheminaretsweresomanytoweringspars.
Onthatnight,theswollen,flattened,yellowmoon-knownintheslumasagrievingmoon-hoveredhypnotic-full,abovethemosque.
Therewasabreezefromthesea,buttheairwaswarmandhumid.
Swarmsofbatsflyingoverhead,alongthelinesofelectricalwires,thousandsofthem,werelikemusicalnotesonastripofsheetmusic.Averysmallgirl,awakepastherbedtimeandstillsellingribbonsofjasmineflowers,cameuptousandgaveAbdullahagarland.Hereachedintohispockettogivehersomemoney,butsherefused,laughing,andwalkedawaysingingthechorusofasongfromapopularHindimovie.
“Thereisnoactoffaithmorebeautifulthanthegenerosityoftheverypoor,”Abdullahsaid,inhisquiettone.Ihadtheimpressionthatheneverraisedhisvoiceabovethatsoftness.
“YouspeakEnglishverywell,”Icommented,genuinelyimpressedbythesophisticatedthoughtandthewayhe’dexpressedit.
“No,Idon’tspeakwell.Iknewawoman,andshetaughtmethosewords,”hereplied.Iwaitedformore,andhehesitated,lookingoutoverthesea,butwhenhespokeagainitwastochangethesubject.“Tellme,Mr.Lin,thattimeatthedenoftheStandingBabas,whenthatmanwascomingforyouwithasword-whatwouldyouhavedoneifIwasnotthere?”
“Iwould’vefoughthim.”
“Ithink…”Heturnedtostareintomyeyes,andIfeltmyscalptighteningwithanunaccountabledread.“Ithinkyouwouldhavedied.Youwouldhavebeenmurdered,andyouwouldnowbedead.”
“No.Hehadasword,buthewasold,andhewascrazy.Iwould’vebeatenhim.”
“Yes,”hesaid,notsmiling.“Yes,Ithinkyouareright-youwouldhavebeatenhim.Buttheothers,thegirlandyourIndianfriend,oneofthemwouldhavebeenhurt,orevenkilled,ifyouhadsurvived.Whentheswordcamedown,ifitdidnotstrikeyou,itwouldhavehitoneofthem,Ithinkitisso.Oneofyouwouldhavedied.Youoryourfriends-oneofyouwouldbedead.”
Itwasmyturntobesilent.ThesenseofdreadI’dfeltamomentbeforewassuddenlyafull-blownalarm.Myheartwasthumpingaloudnessofblood.Hewastalkingabouthavingsavedmylife,andyetIsensedathreatinhiswords.Ididn’tlikeit.Angerbegantoriseinme.Itensed,readytofighthim,andstaredhardintohiseyes.
Hesmiled,andputahandonmyshoulder,justashe’ddonelessthananhourbeforeatanotherseawall,onMarineDrive.Asquicklyasthetingling,intuitivesenseofalarmarose,italsopassed;aspowerfulasithadbeen,itwassuppressedandgone.
ItwasmonthsbeforeIthoughtofitagain.
IturnedtoseethecopsalutingandmovingawayfromKhader’scar.
“Khaderbhaiwasveryconspicuousaboutgivingthatcopabribe.”
Abdullahlaughed,andIrememberedthefirsttimeI’dheardhimlaughoutloud,inthedenoftheStandingBabas.Itwasagoodlaugh,guilelessandcompletelyunselfconscious,andIsuddenlylikedhimbecauseofit.
“WehaveasayinginPersian-Sometimesthelionmustroar,justtoremindthehorseofhisfear.ThispolicemanhasbeenmakingproblemshereatHajiAli.Thepeopledonotrespecthim.Forthat,heisunhappy.Hisunhappinessiscausinghimtomakeproblems.Themoreproblemshemakes,thelessrespecthegetsfromthepeople.Nowtheyseesuchbigbaksheesh,morethanapolicemanlikehimisgetting,andtheywillrespecthimalittle.TheywillbeimpressedthatthegreatKhaderbhaipayshimsowell.Withthislittlerespect,hewillmakelessproblemsforallofus.Butstill,themessageisveryclear.Heisahorse,butKhaderisalion.Andthelion,ithasroared.”
“AreyouKhaderbhai’sbodyguard?”
“No,no!”helaughedagain.“LordAbdelKhaderneedsnoprotection.But…”Hepaused,andwebothlookedatthegrey-hairedmaninthebackofthemodestlimousine.“ButIwoulddieforhim,ifthatiswhatyoumean.That,andalotmorewouldIdoforhim.”
“There’snotalotmoreyoucandoforsomeonethandieforthem,”Ireplied,grinningathisearnestnessasmuchasthestrangenessofhisidea.
“Ohyes,”hesaid,puttinganarmaroundmyshoulderandleadingusbacktowardsthecar.“Thereisalotmore.”
“YouaremakingafriendshipwithourAbdullah,Mr.Lin?”
Khaderbhaisaidasweclimbedbackintothecar.“Thisisagoodthing.Youshouldbeclosefriends.Youlooklikebrothers.”
AbdullahandIlookedatoneanother,andlaughedgentlyatthewords.Myhairwasblond,andhiswasinkblack.Myeyesweregrey,andhiswerebrown.HewasPersian,andIwasAustralian.
Atfirstglance,wecouldn’tbemoredissimilar.ButKhaderbhaistaredfromonetotheotherofuswithsuchapuzzledfrown,andwassogenuinelybewilderedbyouramusement,thatweswallowedourlaughterinsmiles.AndasthecarheadedoutalongtheBandraroad,IthoughtaboutwhatKhaderhadsaid.Ifoundmyselfthinkingthat,forallthedifferencesbetweenus,therejustmightbesomeperceptivetruthintheolderman’sobservation.
Thecardroveonforalmostanhour.Itslowed,atlast,ontheoutskirtsofBandra,inastreetofshopsandwarehouses,andthenbumpedintotheentrancetoanarrowlane.Thestreetwasdarkanddeserted,aswasthelane.Whenthecardoorsopened,Icouldhearmusicandsinging.
“Come,Mr.Lin.Wego,”Khaderbhaisaid,feelingnocompulsiontotellmewhereweweregoingorwhy.
Thedriver,Nazeer,remainedwiththecar,leaningagainstthebonnetandfinallyallowinghimselftheluxuryofunwrappingthepaanthatAbdullahhadboughtforhimatHajiAli.AsIpassedhimtowalkdownthelane,IrealisedthatNazeerhadn’tspokenasingleword,andIwonderedatthelongsilencessomanyIndianpeoplepractisedinthatcrowded,noisycity.
Wepassedthroughawidestonearch,alongacorridorand,afterclimbingtwoflightsofstairs,weenteredavastroomfilledwithpeople,smoke,andclamorousmusic.Itwasarectangularroom,hungwithgreensilksandcarpets.Atthefarendtherewasasmall,raisedstagewherefourmusicianssatonsilkcushions.
Aroundthewallstherewerelowtablessurroundedbycomfortablecushions.Palegreen,bell-shapedlanterns,suspendedfromthewoodenceiling,casttremblinghoopsofyellow-goldlight.
Waitersmovedfromgrouptogroup,servingblackteainlongglasses.Atsomeofthetablestherewerehookahpipes,pearlingtheairwithbluesmoke,andtheperfumeofcharras.SeveralmenroseimmediatelytogreetKhaderbhai.Abdullahwasalsowellknownthere.Anumberofpeopleacknowledgedhimwithanod,wave,orspokengreeting.Inoticedthatthemeninthatroom,unlikethoseatHajiAli,embracedhimwarmly,andlingeredastheyheldhishandbetweentheirown.Irecognisedonemaninthecrowd.ItwasShafiqGussa,orShafiqTheAngry,thecontrollerofprostitutioninthenavybarracksareaneartheslumwhereIlived.Iknewafewotherfaces-awell-knownpoet,afamousSufiholyman,andaminormoviestar-fromphotographsinnewspapers.
OneofthemennearKhaderbhaiwasthemanageroftheprivateclub.Hewasashortman,plumplybuttonedintoalongKashmirivest.Thewhitelacecapofahajji,onewho’dmadethepilgrimagetoMecca,coveredhisbaldhead.Hisforeheadwasdiscolouredbythedark,circularbruisesomeMuslimsacquirethroughtouchingtheirforeheadstoastoneintheirdevotions.
Heshoutedinstructions,andatoncewaitersbroughtanewtableandseveralcushions,settingthemupinacorneroftheroomwithaclearviewtothestage.
Wesatcross-legged,withKhaderinthecentre,Abdullahathisrighthand,andmeathisleft.Aboy,wearingahajjicapandAfghanpantsandvest,broughtusabowlofpoppedrice,sharplyspicedwithchillipowders,andaplatterofmixednutswithdriedfruits.Thechaiwaiterpouredhot,blackteafromanarrow-spoutedkettlethroughametreofairwithoutspillingadrop.Heplacedtheteabeforeeachofusandthenofferedsugarcubes.Iwasabouttodrinktheteawithoutsugar,butAbdullahstoppedme.
“Come,Mr.Lin,”hesmiled,“WearedrinkingPersiantea,intherealIranianstyle,isn’tit?”
Hetookasugarcubeandplaceditinhismouth,holdingitfirmlybetweenhisfrontteeth.Heliftedtheglassthen,andsippedtheteathroughthecube.Ifollowedsuit,imitatingthesteps.Thesugarcubeslowlycrumbledandmeltedawayand,althoughthetastewassweeterthanIpreferred,Ienjoyedwhatwasformethestrangenessofanewcustom.
Khaderbhaialsotookasugarcubeandsippedhisteathroughit,endowingthelittlecustomwithapeculiardignityandsolemnity,asinfacthedidwitheveryexpressionandeventhemostcasualgesture.HewasthemostimperialhumanbeingI’devermet.
Lookingathim,then,asheinclinedhisheadtolistentoAbdullah’slight-heartedconversation,thethoughtcametomethatinanylife,andinanyworld,hewouldcommandmen,andinspiretheirobedience.
Threesingersjoinedthemusicians,andsatalittleinfrontofthem.Agradualsilencesettledintheroom,andthenallofasuddenthethreemenbegantosinginpowerful,thrillingvoices.
Itwasaluscioussound-alayeredandgorgeousmusicofpassionateintensity.Themenweren’tjustsinging,theywerecryingandwailinginsong.Realtearsranfromtheirclosedeyesanddrippedontotheirchests.Iwaselated,listeningtoit;andyet,somehow,Ifeltashamed.Itwasasifthesingershadtakenmeintotheirdeepestandmostintimateloveandsorrow.
Theysangthreesongsthenquietlyleftthestage,disappearingthroughacurtainintoanotherroom.No-onehadspokenormovedduringtheperformance,buttheneveryonespokeatonceasweforcedourselvestobreakthespellthathadenvelopedus.
AbdullahstoodupandcrossedtheroomtotalkwithagroupofAfghansatanothertable.
“Howdoyoulikethesinging,Mr.Lin?”Khaderbhaiaskedme.
“Ilikeitverymuch.It’sincredible,amazing.I’veneverheardanythinglikeit.Therewassomuchsadnessinit,butsomuchpoweraswell.Whatlanguagewasit?Urdu?”
“Yes.DoyouunderstandUrdu?”
“No,I’mafraidIdon’t.IonlyspeakalittleMarathiandHindi.
IrecogniseditasUrdubecausesomeofthepeoplespeakitaroundme,whereIlive.”
“Urduisthelanguageofgazals,andthesearethebestgazalsingersinallBombay,”hereplied.
“Aretheysinginglovesongs?”
Hesmiled,andleanedacrosstoresthishandonmyforearm.
Throughoutthecity,peopletouchedoneanotheroftenduringtheirconversations,emphasisingthepointstheymadewithagentlesqueezeofpressure.Iknewthegesturewellfromdailycontactwithmyfriendsintheslum,andI’dcometolikeit.
“Theyarelovesongs,yes,butthebestandmosttrueofalllovesongs.TheyarelovesongstoGod.ThesemenaresingingaboutlovingGod.”
Inodded,sayingnothing,butmysilencepromptedhimtospeakagain.
“YouareaChristianfellow?”heasked.
“No.Idon’tbelieveinGod.”“ThereisnobelievinginGod,”hedeclared,smilingagain.“WeeitherknowGod,orwedonot.”
“Well,”Ilaughed,“Icertainlydon’tknowGod,andfranklyI’minclinedtothinkthatGodisimpossibletobelievein,atleastmostofthenotionsofGodthatI’vecomeacross.”
“Oh,ofcourse,naturally,Godisimpossible.ThatisthefirstproofthatHeexists.”
Hewasstaringatmeintently,hishandstillrestingwarmonmyarm.Becareful,Ithought.You’regettingintoaphilosophicaldiscussionwithamanwho’sfamousforthem.He’stestingyou.
It’satest,andthewater’sdeep.
“Letmegetthisstraight-you’resayingthatbecausesomethingisimpossible,itexists?”Iasked,pushingacanoeofthoughtoutintotheunchartedwaterofhisideas.
“Thatiscorrect.”
“Well,wouldn’tthatmeanthatallthepossiblethingsdon’texist?”
“Precisely!”hesaid,smilingmorewidely.“Iamdelightedthatyouunderstand.”
“Icansaythosewords,”Ianswered,laughingtomatchhissmile,“butthatdoesn’tmeanIunderstandthem.”
“Iwillexplain.Nothingexistsasweseeit.Nothingweseeisreallythere,aswethinkweareseeingit.Oureyesareliars.
Everythingthatseemsreal,ismerelypartoftheillusion.
Nothingexists,aswethinkitdoes.Notyou.Notme.Notthisroom.Nothing.”
“Istilldon’tgetit.Idon’tseehowpossiblethingsdon’texist.”
“Letmeputitanotherway.Theagentsofcreation,theenergythatactuallyanimatesthematterandthelifethatwethinkweseearoundus,cannotbemeasuredorweighedorevenputintotime,asweknowit.Inoneform,thatenergyisphotonsoflight.Thesmallestobjectisauniverseofopenspacetothem,andtheentireuniverseisbutaspeckofdust.Whatwecalltheworldisjustanidea-andnotaverygoodone,yet.Fromthepointofviewofthelight,thephotonoflightthatanimatesit,theuniversethatweknowisnotreal.Nothingis.Doyouunderstandnow?”
“Notreally.Itseemstomethatifeverythingwethinkweknowiswrong,orisanillusion,thennoneofuscanknowwhattodo,orhowtolive,orhowtostaysane.”
“Welie,”hesaidwithaflashofrealhumourinthegold-fleckedamberofhiseyes.“Thesanemanissimplyabetterliarthantheinsaneman.YouandAbdullaharebrothers.Iknowthis.Youreyeslie,andtellyouthatthisisnotso.Andyoubelievethelie,becauseitiseasier.”
“Andthat’showwestaysane?”
“Yes.LetmetellyouthatIcanseeyouasmyson.Iwasnotmarried,andIhavenoson,buttherewasamomentoftime,yes,whenitwaspossibleformetobemarried,andtohaveason.Andthatmomentoftimewas-howoldareyou?”
“I’mthirty.”
“Exactly!Iknewit.Thatmomentoftime,whenIcouldhavebeenafather,wasexactlythirtyyearsago.ButifItellyouthatIseeitclearly,thatyouaremyson,andIamyourfather,youwillthinkthatitisimpossible.Youwillresistit.Youwillnotseethetruth,thatIseenow,andthatIsawinthefirstmomentswhenwemet,afewhoursago.Youwillprefertomakeaconvenientlie,andtobelieveit-theliethatwearestrangers,andthatthereisnoconnectionbetweenus.Butfate-youknowfate?Kismetistheword,intheUrdulanguage-fatehaseverypoweroverus,buttwo.Fatecannotcontrolourfreewill,andfatecannotlie.Menlie,tothemselvesmorethantoothers,andtoothersmoreoftenthantheytellthetruth.Butfatedoesnotlie.Doyousee?”
Ididsee.Myheartknewwhathewassaying,evenasmyrebelliousmindrejectedthewordsandthemanwhospokethem.
Somehow,he’dfoundthatsorrowinme.Theholeinmylifethatafathershould’vefilledwasaprairieoflonging.Intheloneliesthoursofthosehuntedyears,Iwanderedthere,ashungryforafather’sloveasacellblockfullofsentencedmeninthelasthourofNewYear’sEve.
“No,”Ilied.“I’msorry,butIjustdon’tagree.Idon’tthinkyoucanmakethingstrue,justbybelievingthem.”
“Ihavenotsaidthat,”hereplied,patiently.“WhatIamsayingisthatreality-asyouseeit,andasmostpeopleseeit-isnothingmorethananillusion.Thereisanotherreality,beyondwhatweseewithoureyes.Youhaveto_feelyourwayintothatrealitywithyourheart.Thereisnootherway.”
“It’sjust…prettyconfusing,yourwayoflookingatthings.
Chaotic,infact.Don’tyoufinditchaotic,yourself?”
Hesmiledagain.
“Itisstrange,atfirst,tothinkintherightway.Butthereareafewthingswecanknow,afewthingstobesureof,anditisrelativelyeasy.Letmeshowyou.Toknowthetruth,allyouhavetodoiscloseyoureyes.”
“It’sthateasy?”Ilaughed.
“Yes.Allyouhavetodoiscloseyoureyes.WecanknowGod,forexample,andwecanknowsadness.Wecanknowdreams,andwecanknowlove.Butnoneofthesearereal,inourusualsenseofthingsthatexistintheworldandseemreal.Wecannotweighthem,ormeasuretheirlength,orfindtheirbasicpartsinanatomsmasher.Whichiswhytheyarepossible.”
Mycanoeofthoughtwastakingwater,andIdecidedtobailout,fast.
“I’veneverheardofthisplacebefore.Aretheremanyplaceslikethis?”
“Perhapsfive,”hereplied,acceptingthechangeoftopicwithtolerantequanimity.“Isthatmany,doyouthink?”
“Iguessit’senough.Therearen’tanywomen.Arewomennotallowedtocomehere?”
“Notforbidden,”hefrowned,castingaboutfortherightwords.
“Womenarepermittedhere,buttheydonotwanttocome.Thereareotherplaceswherewomengather,todotheirownthingsandtohearmusicandsingers,andnomanwouldwanttodisturbthemthere,either.”
AveryelderlymanapproachedusandsatatKhaderbhai’sfeet.Heworethesimplecottonshirtandthinbaggypantsknownasakurta-pyjama.Hisfacewasdeeplylined,andhiswhitehairwascroppedintoashort,punkcut.Hewasthinandstoopedandobviouslypoor.WithacurtbutrespectfulnodtoKhader,hebegantomulltobaccoandhashishinhisgnarledhands.InafewminuteshepassedahugechillumtoKhader,andwaitedwithmatchesreadytolightit.
“ThismanisOmar,”Khaderbhaisaid,pausingwiththechillumalmosttohislips.“HeisthebestmakerofthechilluminallBombay.”
OmarlitthechillumforKhaderbhai,breakingintoatoothlessgrinandbaskinginthepraise.Hepassedittome,studiedmytechniqueandlung-powerwithacriticaleye,andgruntedasortofapproval.AfterKhaderandIhadsmokedtwice,Omartookthechillumandfinisheditwithgiganticpuffsthatswelledhisthinchesttobursting.Whenhewasfinished,hetappedoutasmallresidueofwhiteash.He’dsuckedthechillumdry,andproudlyacceptedanodofacknowledgementfromKhaderbhai.Despitehisgreatage,heroseeasilyfromtheseatedpositionwithouttouchinghishandstothefloor.Hehobbledawayasthesingersreturnedtothestage.Abdullahrejoinedus,bringingacut-glassbowlfilledwithslicesofmango,papaya,andwatermelon.Thescentsofthefruitssurroundedusastheirtastesdissolvedinourmouths.Thesingersbegantheirnextperformance,singingjustonesongthatcontinuedforalmosthalfanhour.Itwasalush,tripartiteharmonybuiltuponasimplemelodyandimprovisedcadenzas.Themusiciansaccompanyingthesingersontheharmoniumandthetablaswereanimated,butthesingersthemselveswereexpressionless,motionless,withtheireyesclosedandtheirhandslimp.
Asbefore,thesilentcrowdintheclubbrokeoutinrowdychatterwhenthesingersleftthesmallstage.Abdullahleanedacrosstospeaktome.
“Whileweweredrivinghereinthecar,Iwasthinkingaboutbeingbrothers,Mr.Lin.IwasthinkingaboutwhatKhaderbhaisaid.”
“That’sfunny,sowasI.”
“Mytwobrothers-wewerethreebrothersinmyfamilyinIran,andnowmytwobrothers,theyaredead.TheywerekilledinthewaragainstIraq.Ihaveasister,inIran,butIhavenobrother.Iamjustonebrothernow.Onebrotherisasadness,isn’tit?”
Icouldn’tanswerhimdirectly.Myownbrotherwaslosttome.Mywholefamilywaslost,andIwassureIwouldneverseethemagain.
“IwasthinkingthatperhapsKhaderbhaisawsomethingtrue.
Perhapswereallyarelookinglikebrothers.”
“Maybeweare.”
Hesmiled.
“Ihavedecidedtolikeyou,Mr.Lin.”
Hesaiditwithsuchsolemnity,despitethesmile,thatIhadtolaugh.
“Well,Iguessinthatcaseyou’dbetterstopcallingmeMr.Lin.
Itgivesmetheheebie-jeebies,anyway.”
“Jeebies?”heasked,earnestly.“ItisanArabicword?”
“Don’tworryaboutit.JustcallmeLin.”
“Okay.IwillcallyouLin.IwillcallyouLinbrother.AndyouwillcallmeAbdullah,isn’titso?”
“Iguessitis.”
“Thenwewillrememberthisnight,attheconcertoftheblindsingers,becauseitisthenightwebeginbrotheringforeachother.”
“Didyousay,theblindsingers?”
“Yes.Youdon’tknowthem?ThesearetheBlindSingersofNagpur.
TheyarefamousinBombay.”
“Aretheyfromaninstitution?”
“Institution?”
“Yeah,aschoolfortheblind,maybe.Somethinglikethat.”
“No,Linbrother.Atonetimetheycouldsee,justasweareseeing.Butinasmallvillage,nearNagpur,therewasablinding,andthesemenbecameblind.”
Thenoisearoundmewasdizzying,andtheoncepleasantsmellofthefruitsandthecharraswasbeginningtocloyandstifle.
“Whatdoyoumean,therewasablinding?”
“Well,therewererebelsandbandits,hidinginthemountains,nearthatvillage,”heexplainedinhisslow,deliberateway.
“Thevillagershadtogivethemfood,andotherhelp.Theyhadnochoice.Butwhenthepoliceandsoldierscametothevillage,theymadetwentypeopleblind,asalesson,asawarningtootherpeople,inothervillages.Thishappenssometimes.Thesingerswerenotfromthatvillage.Theywerevisitingthere,tosingatafestival.Itwasjustbadluck.Theyweremadeblind,withtherest.Allofthem,thosemenandwomen,twentypeople,weretiedontheground,andtheireyeswereputout,withsharppiecesofbamboo.Nowtheysinghere,everywhere,andareveryfamous.Andrichalso…”
Hetalkedon.Ilistened,butIcouldn’trespondorreact.
Khaderbhaisatnexttome,conversingwithayoung,turbanedAfghan.TheyoungmanbentlowtokissKhader’shand,andthebuttofagunappearedwithinthefoldsofhisrobe.Omarreturnedandbegantoprepareanotherchillum.Hegrinnedupatmewithhisstainedgums,andnodded.
“Yes,yes,”helisped,staringintomyeyes.“Yes,yes,yes.”
Thesingerscamebacktosingagain,andsmokespiralledupintotheslashofslowlyrevolvingfans,andthatgreensilkroomofmusicandconspiraciesbecameabeginningforme.Iknownowthattherearebeginnings,turningpoints,manyofthem,ineverylife;questionsofluckandwillandfate.Thenamingday,thedayofthefloodsticksinPrabaker’svillage,whenthewomengavemethenameShantaram,wasabeginning.Iknowthatnow.AndIknowthateverythingelseI’dbeenanddoneinIndiauptothatnightandtheconcertoftheblindsingers,perhapseventhewholeofmylife,wasapreparationforthatbeginningwithAbdelKhaderKhan.Abdullahbecamemybrother.Khaderbhaibecamemyfather.BythetimeIrealisedthatfully,andknewthereasonsforit,mynewlifeasbrotherandsonhadtakenmetowar,andinvolvedmeinmurder,andeverythinghadchangedforever.
Khaderbhaileanedacrossafterthesingingstopped.Hislipsweremoving,andIknewhewasspeakingtome,butforamomentIcouldn’thearhim.
“I’msorry,Icouldn’thearyou.”
“Isaidthatthetruthisfoundmoreofteninmusic,”herepeated,“thanitisinbooksofphilosophy.”
“Whatisthetruth?”Iaskedhim.Ididn’treallywanttoknow.Iwastryingtoholdupmyendoftheconversation.Iwastryingtobeclever.
“Thetruthisthattherearenogoodmen,orbadmen,”hesaid.
“Itisthedeedsthathavegoodnessorbadnessinthem.Therearegooddeeds,andbaddeeds.Menarejustmen-itiswhattheydo,orrefusetodo,thatlinksthemtogoodandevil.Thetruthisthataninstantofreallove,intheheartofanyone-thenoblestmanaliveorthemostwicked-hasthewholepurposeandprocessandmeaningoflifewithinthelotus-foldsofitspassion.Thetruthisthatweareall,everyoneofus,everyatom,everygalaxy,andeveryparticleofmatterintheuniverse,movingtowardGod.”
Thosewordsofhisaremineforevernow.Icanhearthem.Theblindsingersareforever.Icanseethem.Thenight,andthementhatwerethebeginning,fatherandbrother,areforever.Icanrememberthem.It’seasy.AllIhavetodoisclosemyeyes.
____________________
CHAPTERTEN
Abdullahtookhisbrotheringseriously.AweekaftertheNightoftheBlindSingers,hearrivedatmyhutintheCuffeParadeslumcarryingasatchelfilledwithmedicines,salves,andbandages.
Healsobroughtasmallmetalcasecontainingafewsurgicalinstruments.Wewentthroughthebagtogether.Heaskedmeaboutthemedicines,wantingtoknowhowusefultheywereandwhatquantitiesImightneedinthefuture.Whenhe’dsatisfiedhimself,hedustedoffthewoodenstoolandsatdown.Hewassilentforafewminutes,watchingmepackthesupplieshe’dbroughtintoarackofbambooshelves.Thecrowdedslumchattered,brawled,sang,andlaughedaroundus.
“Well,Lin,wherearethey?”hefinallyasked.
“Where’swho?”
“Thepatients.Wherearethey?Iwanttoseemybrotherhealingthem.Therecan’tbehealing,withoutsickpeople,isn’tit?”
“I,er,Idon’thaveanypatientsjustnow.”
“Oh,”hesighed.Hefrowned,drumminghisfingersonhisknees.
“Well,doyouthinkIshouldgoandgetyousome?”
Hehalfrosefromhisseat,andIhadavisionofhimdraggingsickandinjuredpeopletomyhutbyforce.
“No,no,takeiteasy.Idon’tseepeopleeveryday.ButifIdoseepeople,ifI’mhere,theyusuallystartcomingaroundtwoo’clock.Theydon’tcomethisearlyinthemorning.Nearlyeveryoneworksuntilatleastnoon.I’musuallyworkingmyself.Ihavetoearnmoneytoo,youknow.”
“Butnotthismorning?”
“No,nottoday.Imadesomemoneylastweek.Enoughtolastmeforawhile.”
“Howdidyoumakethismoney?”
Hestaredatmeingenuously,unawarethatthequestionmightembarrassmeorbetakenasrude.
“It’snotpolitetoaskforeignershowtheymaketheirmoney,Abdullah,”Iinformedhim,laughing.
“Oh,Isee,”hesaid,smiling.“Youmadeitbytheillegalmeans.”
“Well,that’snotexactlythepoint.Butyes,nowthatyoumentionit.TherewasthisFrenchgirlwhowantedtobuyhalfakiloofcharras.Ifounditforher.AndIhelpedaGermanguygetafairpriceforhisCanoncamera.Theywerebothcommissionjobs.”
“Howmuchdidyoumakewiththisbusiness?”heasked,hiseyesnotwavering.Theywereaverypalebrown,thoseeyes,almostagoldencolour.TheywerethecolourofsanddunesintheTharDesert,onthelastdaybeforeitrains.
“Imadeaboutathousandrupees.”
“Eachbusiness,onethousand?”
“No,bothjobstogethermadeathousand.”
“Thisisverylittlemoney,Linbrother,”hesaid,hisnosewrinklingandhismouthpuckeringwithcontempt.“Thisistiny,tiny,verysmallmoney.”
“Well,itmightbetinytoyou,”Imumbleddefensively,“butit’senoughtokeepmegoingforacoupleofweeksorso.”
“Andnowyouarefree,isn’tit?”
“Free?”
“Youhavenopatients?”
“No.”
“Andyouhavenolittlecommissionbusinesstodo?”
“No.”
“Good.Thenwegotogether,now.”
“Oh,yeah?Wherearewegoing?”
“Come,Iwilltellyouwhenwegetthere.”
WesteppedoutofthehutandweregreetedbyJohnnyCigar,who’dobviouslybeeneavesdropping.Hesmiledatme,andscowledatAbdullah,thensmiledatmeagainwithtracesofthescowlintheshadowsofhissmile.
“Hi,Johnny.I’mgoingoutforawhile.Makesurethekidsdon’tgetintothemedicines,okay?Iputsomenewstuffintotheshelvestoday,andsomeofit’sdangerous.”
Johnnythrusthisjawouttodefendhiswoundedpride.
“Nobodywilltouchanythinginyourhut,Linbaba!Whatareyousaying?Youcouldputmillionsofrupeesinthere,andnobodywouldtouchanything.Goldalsoyoucouldputinthere.TheBankofIndiaisnotassafeasthis,Linbaba’shut.”
“Ionlymeantthat…”
“Anddiamonds,also,youcanleaveinthere.Andemeralds.Andpearls.”
“Igetthepicture,Johnny.”
“Noneedtoworryaboutallthat,”Abdullahinterjected.“Hemakessuchtinymoneythatnobodywouldhavetheinteresttobetakingit.Doyouknowhowmuchmoneyhemadelastweek?”
JohnnyCigarseemedsuspiciousofAbdullah.Thehostilescowlpinchedhisfacealittletighter,buthewasintriguedbythequestion,andhiscuriositygotthebetterofhim.
“Howmuch?”
“Idon’tthinkweneedtogointothisrightnow,guys,”Igrumbled,strugglingtoheadoffwhatIknewcouldbecomeaone-hourdiscussionofmytinymoney.
“Onethousandrupees,”Abdullahsaid,spittingforemphasis.
Iseizedhimbythearmandgavehimashovealongthepathbetweenthehuts.
“Okay,Abdullah.Weweregoingsomewhere,weren’twe?Let’sgetonwithit,brother.”
Wetookafewsteps,butJohnnyCigarcameafterusandtuggedatmyshirtsleeve,pullingmeapaceortwobehindAbdullah.
“ForGod’ssake,Johnny!Idon’twanttotalkabouthowmuchmoneyImade,rightnow.Ipromise,youcannagmeaboutitlaterbut…”
“No,Linbaba,notaboutthat,”herasped,inascratchywhisper.
“Thatman,thatAbdullah-youshouldn’ttrusthim!Don’tdoanybusinesswithhim!”
“Whatisthis?What’sthematter,Johnny?”
“Justdon’t!”hesaid,andmight’vesaidmore,butAbdullahturnedandcalledtome,andJohnnysulkedoff,vanishinginatwistoflane.
“Whatistheproblem?”AbdullahaskedasIdrewlevelwithhim,andwesetoffbetweenthesnakinglinesofhuts.
“Oh,noproblem,”Imuttered,knowingthattherewas.“Noproblematall.”
Abdullah’smotorcyclewasparkedontheroadway,outsidetheslum,whereseveralkidswerewatchingoverit.Thetallestofthemsnappeduptheten-rupeetipAbdullahgavethem,andthenledhisraggedurchinbandawayatawhoopingrun.Abdullahkickedtheengineover,andIclimbedupontothepillionseatbehindhim.Wearingnohelmets,andonlythinshirts,weswungoutintothefriendlychaosoftraffic,headingparalleltotheseatowardsNarimanPoint.
Ifyouknowbikesatall,youcantellalotaboutamanbyhowherides.Abdullahrodefromreflexratherthanconcentration.
Hiscontrolofthebikeinmotionwasasnaturalashiscontrolofhislegsinwalking.Hereadthetrafficwithamixofskillandintuition.Severaltimes,heslowedbeforetherewasanobviousneed,andavoidedthehardbrakingthatother,lessinstinctiveriderswereforcedtomake.Sometimesheacceleratedintoaninvisiblegapthatopenedmagicallyforus,justwhenacollisionseemedimminent.Althoughunnervingatfirst,thetechniquedidsooninspireakindofgrudgingconfidenceinme,andIrelaxedintheride.
AtChowpattyBeach,weturnedawayfromthesea,andthecoolbreezefromthebaywasstilledandthenchokedoffbystreetsoftallterraces.WejoinedshoalsoftrafficinasteamydrifttowardsNanaChowk.ThearchitecturetherewasfromthemiddleperiodofBombay’sdevelopmentasagreatportcity.Someofthebuildings,constructedinthesturdygeometriesoftheBritishRaj,weretwohundredyearsold.Thedetailedintricaciesofbalconies,windowsurrounds,andsteppedfacadesreflectedaluxuriouselegancethatthemoderncity,forallitschromeandglamour,rarelyaffordeditself.
ThesectionfromNanaChowktoTardeowasknownasaParseearea.
Ithadsurprisedme,atfirst,thatacitysopolymorphousasBombay,withitsunceasingvarietyofpeoples,languages,andpursuits,tendedtosuchnarrowconcentrations.Thejewellershadtheirownbazaar,asdidthemechanics,plumbers,carpenters,andothertrades.TheMuslimshadtheirownquarter,asdidtheChristians,Buddhists,Sikhs,Parsees,andJains.Ifyouwantedtobuyorsellgold,youvisitedtheZhaveribazaar,wherehundredsofgoldsmithscompetedforyourcustom.Ifyouwantedtovisitamosque,youfoundseveralofthemwithinwalkingdistanceofoneanother.
ButafterawhileIrealisedthatthedemarcations,likesomanyotherlongandshortlinesofdivisioninthecomplex,culturallypolyglotcity,werenotasrigidasthey’dseemed.TheMuslimquarterhaditsHindutemples,theZhaveribazaarhaditsvegetablesellersamongtheglitteringjewels,andalmosteverytowerofluxuryapartmentshaditsadjacentslum.
AbdullahparkedthebikeoutsidetheBhatiaHospital,oneofseveralmodernhospitalsandclinicswhichwereendowedbycharitableParseetrusts.Thelargebuildinghousedexpensivewardsfortherich,andfreetreatmentcentresforthepoor.Weclimbedthestepsandenteredaspotlesslycleanmarblefoyerpleasantlycooledbylargefans.Abdullahspoketothereceptionistandthenledmedownacorridortothebusycasualtyandadmissionssection.Aftermorequestionstoaporterandanurse,hefinallylocatedthemanhesought-ashortandverythindoctorwhosatatacluttereddesk.
“DoctorHamid?”Abdullahasked.
Thedoctorwaswriting,anddidn’tlookup.
“Yes,yes,”heansweredtestily.
“IhavecomefromSheikAbdelKhader.MynameisAbdullah.”
Thepenstoppedatonce,andDoctorHamidslowlyliftedhishead.
Hestaredatuswithalookofapprehensivecuriosity.Itwasalookyouseesometimesonthefacesofbystanderswitnessingafight.
“Hetelephonedtoyouyesterday,andtoldyoutoexpectme?”
Abdullahpromptedquietly.
“Yes,yesofcourse,”Hamidsaid,regaininghiscomposureinaneasysmile.Hestooduptoshakehandsacrossthedesk.
“ThisisMr.Lin,”Abdullahintroducedme,asthedoctorandIshookhands.Itwasaverydryandfragilehand.“HeisthedoctorintheColabahutments.”
“No,no,”Iprotested.“I’mnotadoctor.I’vejustbeensortofco-optedintohelpingoutthere.AndI’m…I’mnottrainedforit,and…notreallyverygoodatit.”
“Khaderbhaitellsmethatwhenyouspoketohim,youcomplainedaboutthereferralsyou’remakingtotheSt.Georgeandotherhospitals,”Hamidsaid,gettingdowntobusiness,andignoringmyprotestwiththeairofamanwhowastoobusytoindulgeanother’smodesty.Hiseyesweredarkbrown,almostblack,andglisteningbehindthepolishedlensesofhisgold-framedglasses.
“Well,yes,”Ireplied,surprisedthatKhaderbhaihadrememberedmyconversationwithhim,andthathe’dfounditimportantenoughtotellthedoctor.“TheproblemisthatI’mflyingblind,ifyouknowwhatImean.Idon’tknowenoughtocopewithalltheproblemspeoplecometomewith.WhenIcomeacrossillnessesthatIcan’tidentify,orwhatIthinkareprobablyillnesses,IsendthemtothediagnosticclinicatSt.GeorgeHospital.Idon’tknowwhatelsetodowiththem.Butalotofthetimetheycomebacktomewithouthavingseenanyone-nodoctors,nonurses,no-one.”
“Thesepeoplearenotfeigningillness,youthink?”
“No.I’msure.”Iwasalittleoffendedformyself,andevenmoreindignantfortheslum-dwellers.“They’vegotnothingtogainbypretendingtobesick.Andthey’reproudpeople.Theydon’taskforhelplightly.”
“Ofcourse,”hemurmured,removinghisglassestorubatthedeepridgesthey’dimposedonhisnose.“AndhaveyoubeentotheSt.
Georgeyourself?Haveyouseenanyonetheretoaskthemaboutthis?”
“Yes.Iwenttheretwice.Theytoldmethey’reswampedwithpatients,andtheydothebesttheycan.TheysuggestedthatifIcouldgetreferralsfromlicensedmedicalpractitioners,thentheslum-dwellerscouldjumpthequeue,sotospeak.I’mnotcomplainingaboutthem,attheSt.George.They’vegottheirownproblems.They’reunder-staffedandovercrowded.Inmylittleclinic,Ilookataboutfiftypatientsaday.Theygetsixhundredpatientseveryday.Sometimesasmanyasathousand.I’msureyouknowhowitis.Ithinkthey’redoingthebesttheycan,andthey’repushedtothelimitjusttryingtotreattheemergencycases.Therealproblemisthatmypeoplecan’taffordtoseearealdoctor,togetthereferralthatwouldhelpthemjumpthequeueatthehospital.They’retoopoor.That’swhytheycometo_me.”
DoctorHamidraisedhiseyebrows,andofferedmethateasysmile.
“Yousaidmypeople.AreyoubecomingsuchanIndian,Mr.Lin?”
Ilaughed,andansweredhiminHindiforthefirsttime,usingalinefromthethemesongtoapopularmoviethatwasshowing,then,inmanycinemas.
“Inthislife,wedowhatwecantoimproveourselves.”
Hamidalsolaughed,clappinghishandstogetheronceinpleasedsurprise.
“Well,Mr.Lin,IthinkImaybeabletohelpyou.Iamondutyheretwodaysaweek,buttherestofthetimeIcanbefoundatmysurgery,inFourthPastaLane.”“IknowFourthPastaLane.That’sveryclosetous.”
“Precisely,and,afterspeakingtoKhaderbhai,Ihaveagreedthatyoushouldbeginreferringyourpatientstome,whenyouneedit,andIwillarrangetreatmentatSt.GeorgeHospitalwhenIthinkitisrequired.Wecanbeginfromtomorrow,ifyouwish.”
“Yes,Ido,”Isaidquickly.“Imean,it’sgreat,thankyou,thankyouverymuch.Idon’tknowhowwe’regoingtogoaboutpayingyoubut…”
“Noneedforthanks,andnoneedtoworryaboutpayment,”hereplied,glancingatAbdullah.“Myserviceswillbefreeforyourpeople.Perhapsyouwouldliketojoinmefortea?Itakeabreakheresoon.Thereisarestaurantacrosstheroadfromthehospital.Ifyoucanwaitformethere,Iwillcomeacrossandjoinyou.Wehave,Ithink,muchtodiscuss.”
AbdullahandIlefthim,andwaitedfortwentyminutesintherestaurant,watchingthroughalargewindowaspoorpatientshobbledtotheentranceofthehospital,andrichpatientsweredeliveredintaxisandprivatecars.DoctorHamidjoinedus,andoutlinedtheproceduresIwastofollowinreferringtheslum-dwellerstohispracticeinFourthPastaLane.
Gooddoctorshaveatleastthreethingsincommon:theyknowhowtoobserve,theyknowhowtolisten,andthey’reverytired.
Hamidwasagooddoctor,andwhen,afteranhourofdiscussion,Ilookedintohisprematurelylinedface,theeyesburnedandreddenedbylackofsleep,Ifeltshamedbyhishonestexhaustion.Hecouldaccumulatewealth,Iknew,andsurroundhimselfwithluxury,inprivatepracticeinGermanyorCanadaorAmerica,yethechosetobethere,withhisownpeople,forafractionofthereward.Hewasoneofthousandsofhealthprofessionalsworkinginthecity,withcareersasdistinguishedinwhattheydeniedthemselvesasinwhattheyachievedeveryworkingday.Andwhattheyachievedwasnolessthanthesurvivalofthecity.
WhenAbdullahtookusintotheplaitedtrafficoncemore,hisbikeweavingahaphazardprogressthroughthethreadsofbuses,cars,trucks,bicycles,bullockwagons,andpedestrians,hecalledoverhisshouldertotellmethatDoctorHamidhadoncelivedinaslumhimself.HesaidthatKhaderbhaihadtakenespeciallygiftedslumchildrenfromseveralslumsthroughoutthecity,andpaidfortheirenrolmentinprivatecolleges.Throughsecondaryandthentertiarystudies,thechildrenwereprovidedforandencouraged.Theygraduatedtobecomephysicians,surgeons,nurses,teachers,lawyers,andengineers.Hamidwasoneofthosegiftedchildrenwho’dbeenselectedmorethantwentyyearsbefore.Inresponsetotheneedsofmysmallclinic,Khaderbhaiwascallinginsomedues.
“Khaderbhaiisamanwhomakesthefuture,”Abdullahconcluded,aswestoppedforatrafficsignal.“Mostofus-meandyou,mybrother-wewaitforthefuturetocometous.ButAbdelKhaderKhandreamsthefuture,andthenheplansit,andthenhemakesithappen.Thatisthedifferencebetweenhimandtherestofus.”
“Whataboutyou,Abdullah?”Iaskedhiminashoutasweroaredoffwiththetrafficoncemore.“DidKhaderbhaiplanyou!”
Helaughedoutloud,hischestheavingwiththepleasureandtheforceofthelaugh.
“Ithinkhedid!”hereplied.
“Hey!Thisisn’tthewaybacktotheslum.Wherearewegoingnow?”
“Wearegoingtovisittheplacewhereyouwillbegettingyourmedicines.”
“Mywhat?”
“Khaderbhaihasarrangedforyoutogetmedicines,everyweek.
ThethingsIbroughtyoutoday-thosearethefirst.Wearegoingtothemedicineblackmarket.”
“Ablackmarketformedicine?Whereisit?”
“Intheslumofthelepers,”Abdullahanswered,matter-of-factly.
Thenhelaughedagainashepushedthebiketogreaterspeedthroughagapinthetrafficthatopenedforhim,evenashereachedit.“Justleaveittome,Linbrother.Nowyouarepartoftheplan,isn’titso?”
Thosewords-nowyouarepartoftheplan-should’vewokensomefearinme.Ishould’vesensed…something…eventhen,rightatthestart.ButIwasn’tafraid.Iwasalmosthappy.Thewordsseemedexciting.Theyrushedmyblood.Whenmyfugitivelifebegan,Iwasexiledfrommyfamily,homeland,andculture.Ithoughtthatwasthewholeofit.Yearsintothebanishment,IrealisedthatIwasexiled_tosomething,aswell.WhatIescapedtowasthelonely,recklessfreedomoftheoutcast.Likeoutcastseverywhere,IcourteddangerbecausedangerwasoneofthefewthingsstrongenoughtohelpmeforgetwhatI’dlost.Andstaringintothewarmthoftheafternoonwind,ridingwithAbdullahintothewebofstreets,Ifellasfearlesslyintomyfate,thatafternoon,asamanfallsintolovewithashywoman’sbestsmile.
Thejourneytothelepers’camptookustotheoutskirtsofthecity.TherewereseveraltreatmentcoloniesforBombay’slepers,butthemenandwomenwewenttoseerefusedtoliveinthem.Fundedbystateandprivatecontributions,thecoloniesprovidedmedicalattention,caringsupport,andcleanenvironments.Therulesandregulationsthatgovernedthemwerestrict,however,andnotalltheleperscouldbringthemselvestoconform.Asaresult,somechosetoleave,andsomewereforcedout.Atanyonetime,afewdozenmen,women,andchildrenlivedoutsidethecolonies,inthewidercommunityofthecity.
Theelastictoleranceofslum-dwellers-whoaccommodatedeverycasteandraceandconditionofpersonwithintheirsprawlofhuts-rarelyextendedtolepers.Localcouncilsandstreetcommitteesdidn’tenduretheirpresenceforlong.Fearedandshunned,thelepersformedthemselvesintomobileslumsthatsettled,withinanhour,inanyopenspacetheycouldfind,andmadeatracelessdepartureinevenlesstime.Sometimestheyestablishedthemselvesforseveralweeksbesidearubbishdump,fendingoffthepermanentrag-pickers,whoresistedtheirincursion.Atothertimestheysetuptheircamponaswampypatchofvacantlandorsomeoutfallforindustrialwaste.WhenIfirstvisitedthemwithAbdullah,thatday,Ifoundthatthey’dbuilttheirraggedsheltersontherustystonesofarailwaysidingnearthesuburbofKhar.
WewereforcedtoparkAbdullah’sbike,andentertherailwaylandasthelepersdid,throughgapsinfencesandacrossditches.Therustyplateauwasastagingareaformosttrainsontheurbanrouteandmanyofthegoodswagonscarryingproduceandmanufacturedarticlesoutofthecity.Beyondthesub-stationitselfwereofficeoutbuildings,storagewarehouses,andmaintenancesheds.Furtheronwasavastshuntingarea-anopenspacemarkedbydozensofrailwaylinesandtheirconfluences.Attheouteredges,highwirefencesenclosedthespace.
OutsidewasthecommerceandcosinessofsuburbanKhar:trafficandgardens,balconiesandbazaars.Withinwasthearidityoffunctionandsystems.Therewerenoplants,noanimals,andnopeople.Eventherollingstockwereghosttrains,trundlingfromshuntingstoptoshuntingstopwithoutstafforpassengers.Thentherewasthelepers’slum.
They’dseizedadiamondofclearspacebetweenthetracksforthemselves,andpatchedtheirshelterstogetherinit.Noneofthehutswastallerthanmychest.Fromadistance,theylookedlikethepuptentsofanarmybivouacwreathedinthesmokeofcookingfires.Aswenearedthem,however,wesawthattheirappallingraggednessmadetheslumhutswhereIlivedseemlikesolid,comfortablestructures.
Theyweremadefromscrapsofcardboardandplasticheldaloftwithcrookedbranches,andbracedwiththinstring.Icould’veknockedthewholecamptorubblewithanopenhand,anditwould’vetakenmelessthanaminute,yetthirtymen,women,andchildrenmadetheirlivesthere.
Weenteredtheslumunchallenged,andmadeourwaytooneofthehutsnearthecenter.Peoplestoppedandstaredatus,butno-onespoke.Itwashardnottolookatthem,andthenhardnottostarewhenIdidlook.Someofthepeoplehadnonoses,mostofthemhadnofingers,thefeetofmanywereboundinbloodybandages,andsomeweresoadvancedintothedeteriorationsthattheirlipsandearsweremissing.
Idon’tknowwhy-theprice,perhaps,thatwomenpayfortheirloveliness–butthedisfigurementsseemedmoreghastlyforthewomenthantheywereforthemen.Manyofthemenhadadefiantandevenajauntyairaboutthem-akindofpugnaciousuglinessthatwasfascinatinginitself.Butshynessjustlookedcowedinthewomen,andhungerlookedpredatory.ThediseasewasindiscernibleinthemanychildrenIsaw.Theylookedfit,ifuniformlythin,andquitewell.Andtheyworkedhard,allofthosechildren.Theirsmallfingersdidthegraspingforthewholeoftheirtribe.
They’dseenuscoming,andmust’vepassedthewordbecause,asweapproachedthehut,amancrawledoutandstoodtogreetus.Twochildrencameatonceandsupportedhim.Hewastiny,reachingtojustabovemywaist,andseverelystrickenwiththedisease.Hislipsandthelowerpartofhisfacewereeatenawaytoahard,knobbyridgeofdarkfleshthatextendeddownwardsfromthecheekstothehingesofhisjaw.Thejawitselfwasexposed,asweretheteethandgums,andthegapingholeswherehisnosehadbeen.
“Abdullah,myson,”hesaid,inHindi.“Howareyou?Haveyoueaten?”
“Iamwell,Ranjitbhai.”Abdullahrepliedinrespectfultones.“Ihavebroughtthegoratomeetyou.Wehavejustnoweaten,butwewilldrinktea,thankyou.”
Childrenbroughtstoolstous,andwesatthereintheopenspaceinfrontofRanjit’shut.Asmallcrowdgatheredandsatontheground,orstoodaroundus.
“ThisisRanjitbhai,”Abdullahtoldme,inHindi,speakingloudlyenoughforalltohear.“Heisthebosshere,theseniorfellow,intheslumofthelepers.Heisthekinghere,inthisclubforkalatopis.”
KalatopimeansblackhatinHindi,andit’saphraseused,sometimes,todescribeathief,referringtotheblack-bandedhatsthatconvictedthieveswereforcedtowearinBombay’sArthurRoadPrison.Iwasn’tsureexactlywhatAbdullahhadmeantbytheremark,butRanjitandtheotherleperstookitwellenough,smilingandrepeatingthephraseseveraltimes.
“Greetings,Ranjitbhai,”Isaid,inHindi.“MynameisLin.”
“Aapdoctorhain?”heasked.Youareadoctor?
“No!”Ialmostshoutedinpanic,disconcertedbythediseaseandmyignoranceofit,andafraidhewouldaskmetohelpthem.IturnedtoAbdullah,andswitchedtoEnglish.“TellhimI’mnotadoctor,Abdullah.TellhimIjustdoalittlefirstaid,andtreatratbitesandscratchescausedbythebarbedwire,andthingslikethat.Explaintohim.TellhimthatIhaven’thadanyrealtraining,andIdon’tknowthefirstthingaboutleprosy.”
Abdullahnodded,andthenfacedRanjitbhai.
“Yes,”hesaid.“Heisadoctor.”
“Thankyouverymuch,Abdullah,”Ignashedoutthroughclenchedteeth.
Childrenbroughtfullglassesofwaterforus,andteainchippedcups.Abdullahdrankhiswaterinquickgulps.Ranjittiltedhisheadback,andoneofthechildrentippedthewaterinagurgledownhisthroat.Ihesitated,fearfulofthegrotesquesicknessaroundme.OneoftheslumwordsinHindiforleperscanbetranslatedastheundead,andIfeltthatIwasholdingthenightmaresoftheundeadinmyhands.Alltheworldofsufferingdiseasewasconcentratedinthatglassofwater,itseemedtome.
ButAbdullahhaddrunkhisglass.Iwassurehe’dcalculatedtherisks,anddecideditwassafe.Andeverydayofmylifewasarisk.Everyhourhaditshazards,afterthebiggambleofescapefromprison.Thevoluptuousrecklessnessofafugitivemovedmyarmtomymouth,andIdrankthewaterdown.Fortypairsofeyeswatchedmedrink.
Ranjit’sowneyeswerehoney-coloured,andcloudedbywhatIjudgedtobeincipientcataracts.Heexaminedmeclosely,thoseeyesrovingfrommyfeettomyhairandback,severaltimes,withunshycuriosity.
“Khaderbhaihastoldmethatyouneedmedicines,”hesaidslowly,inEnglish.Histeethclickedtogetherashespoke,andwithnolipstohelphimformthewords,hisspeechwasdifficulttounderstand.ThelettersB,F,P,andVwereimpossible,forexample,withMandWcomingoutasothersoundsaltogether.Themouthformsmorethanjustwords,ofcourse:itformsattitudesandmoodsandnuancesofmeaning,andthoseexpressivehintswerealsomissing.Andhehadnofingers,soeventhataidtocommunicationwasdeniedhim.
Instead,therewasachild,perhapshisson,whostoodathisshoulderandrepeatedhiswordsinaquietbutsteadyvoice,onebeatbehindtherhythmofhisspeech,justasatranslatormight.
“WearealwayshappytohelplordAbdelKhader,”thetwovoicessaid.“Ihavethehonourtoservehim.Wecangiveyoumuchmedicine,everyweek,noproblem.First-classstuff,asyousee.”
Heshoutedaname,then,andatallboyinhisearlyteenspushedthroughthecrowdtolayacanvasbundleatmyfeet.Heknelttorolloutthecanvas,andrevealedacollectionofampoulesandplasticbottles.Therewasmorphinehydrochloride,penicillin,andantibioticsforstaphandstrepinfections.Thecontainerswerelabelledandnew.
“Wheredotheygetthisstuff?”IaskedAbdullahasIexaminedthemedicines.
“Theystealit,”heansweredme,inHindi.
“Stealit?Howdotheystealit?”
“Bahuthoshiyaar,”hereplied.Verycleverly.
“Yes,yes.”
Achorusofvoicessurroundedus.Therewasnohumourinthatconcord.TheyacceptedAbdullah’spraisesolemnly,asifhewasadmiringsomeworkofartthey’dcollectivelyproduced.Goodthieves,cleverthieves,Iheardpeoplemutteraroundme.
“Whatdotheydowithit?”
“Theysellitontheblackmarket,”hetoldme,stillspeakinginHindi,sothatallthosepresentcouldfollowourconversation.
“Theysurvivenicelyfromthis,andotherverygoodstealing.”
“Idon’tgetit.Whywouldanyonebuymedicinefromthem?Youcanbuythisstufffromjustaboutanychemist.”
“Youwanttoknoweverything,brotherLin,isn’tit?Wellthen,wemusthaveanothercupoftea,becausethisisatwo-cups-of-teastory.”
Thecrowdlaughedatthat,andpressedalittlecloser,pickingoutplacestositnearusforthestory.Alarge,empty,unattendedgoodswagonrumbledpastslowlyonanadjacenttrack,perilouslyclosetothehuts.No-onegaveitmorethanacursoryglance.Arailwayworker,dressedinkhakishirtandshorts,strolledbetweenthelines,inspectingtherails.Helookedupatthelepers’campfromtimetotime,buthismildcuriosityfadedashepassedus,andheneverlookedback.Ourteaarrived,andwesippeditasAbdullahbeganhisstory.Severalofthechildrenweresittingagainstourlegs,theirarmswrappedaroundoneanothercompan-ionably.Onelittlegirlslippedherarmaroundmyrightleg,andhuggedmewithartlessaffection.
AbdullahspokeinverysimpleHindi,repeatingsomepassagesinEnglish,whenheperceivedthatIhadn’tunderstood.HebeganbytalkingoftheBritishRaj,thetimewhenEuropeanscontrolledallofIndiafromtheKhyberPasstotheBayofBengal.Thefirengi,theforeigners,hesaid,gavelepersthelowestpriorityontheirscaleofprivilegesandentitlements.Asthelastinline,lepersoftenmissedoutonthelimitedsupplyofmedicines,bandages,andmedicaltreatment.Whenfamineorfloodstruck,eventhetraditionalmedicinesandherbalremedieswereinshortsupply.Thelepersbecameskilledatstealingwhattheycouldn’tobtainbyothermeans-soskilled,infact,thattheyaccumulatedsurpluses,andbegantosellmedicinesintheirownblackmarket.
InIndia’svastness,Abdullahwenton,therewerealwaysconflicts-brigandage,rebellions,wars.Menfought,andbloodwasspilled.Butmanymoremendiedthroughthefesteringofwoundsandtheravagesofdiseasethanwerekilledinbattles.
Oneofthebestsourcesofintelligenceavailabletopoliceforcesandgovernmentslayinthecontrolofmedicines,bandages,andexpertise.Allsalesfromchemists,hospitalpharmacies,andpharmaceuticalwholesalerswereregistered.Anypurchaseorstringofpurchasessignificantlygreaterthantheestablishednormattractedattentionthatsometimesledtocapturesorkillings.Atelltaletrailofmedicines,particularlyofantibiotics,hadledtothedownfallofmanydacoitsandrevolutionaries.Intheirblackmarket,however,thelepersaskednoquestions,andsoldtoanyonewhocouldpay.TheirnetworksandsecretmarketsexistedineverygreatcityinIndia.Theircustomerswereterrorists,infiltrators,separatists,orjustmorethanusuallyambitiousoutlaws.
“Thesepeoplearedying,”Abdullahconcluded,withthecolourfulturnofphrasethatIwaslearningtoexpectfromhim,“andtheysteallifeforthemselves,andthentheyselllifetootherswhoaredying.”
WhenAbdullahfinishedspeaking,therewasadenseandponderoussilence.Everyonelookedatme.Theyseemedtowantsomeresponse,somereaction,tothestoryoftheirsadnessandskill,theircruelisolationandviolentindispensability.Whistlinghissesofbreathcamethroughtheclenchedteethofliplessmouths.Patient,seriouseyesfixedmewithexpectantconcentration.
“CanI…canIhaveanotherglassofwater,please?”Iasked,inHindi,anditmust’vebeentherightthingtosaybecausethewholecrowdstartedlaughing.Severalchildrenrushedofftofetchthewater,andanumberofhandspattedmeonthebackandshoulder.
Ranjitbhaiexplained,then,howSunil,theboywho’dshowedusthecanvasbundleofmedicines,wouldmakedeliveriestomyhutintheslumasandwhenIrequiredthem.Beforewecouldleave,heaskedthatIremainseatedforawhilelonger.Thenhedirectedeveryman,woman,andchildinhisgrouptocomeforwardandtouchmyfeet.Itwasmortifying,atorment,andIentreatedhimnottodoit.Heinsisted.Astern,almostsevereexpressionburnedinhiseyes,whilethelepershobbledforward,onebyone,andtappedtheirleatherystumpsortheblackened,curledclawsoftheirfingernailstomyfeet.
Anhourlater,AbdullahparkedhisbikeneartheWorldTradeCentre.Westoodtogetherforamoment,andthenhereachedoutimpulsivelyandenclosedmeinawarm,bearishhug.Ilaughedaswecameapart,andhefrownedatme,clearlypuzzled.
“Isitfunny?”heasked.
“No,”Ireassuredhim.“Ijustwasn’texpectingabearhug,that’sall.”
“Bare?Doyoumeanitisnaked?”
“No,no,wecallthatabearhug,”Iexplained,gesturingwithmyhands,asiftheywereclaws.“Bears,youknow,thefurryanimalsthateathoneyandsleepincaves.Whenyouholdsomeonelikethat,wesayyou’regivingthemabearhug.”
“Caves?Sleepingincaves?”
“It’sokay.Don’tworryaboutit.Ilikedit.Itwas…goodfriendship.Itwaswhatfriendsdo,inmycountry,givingabearhuglikethat.”
“Mybrother,”hesaid,withaneasysmile,“Iwillseeyoutomorrow,withSunil,fromthelepers,withnewmedicine.”
Herodeoff,andIwalkedaloneintotheslum.Ilookedaroundme,andthatplaceI’donceregardedasgrievouslyforlornseemedsturdy,vital,aminiaturecityofboundlesshopeandpossibility.Thepeople,asIpassedthem,wererobustandinvigorated.Isatdowninmyhut,withthethinplywooddoorclosed,andIcried.
Suffering,Khaderbhaioncetoldme,isthewaywetestourlove,especiallyourloveforGod.Ididn’tknowGod,ashe’dputit,butevenasadisbelieverIfailedthetestthatday.Icouldn’tloveGod-anyone’sGod-andIcouldn’tforgiveGod.Thetearsstoppedafterafewminutes,butitwasthefirsttimeI’dcriedfortoolong,andIwasstilldeepinthemudofitwhenPrabakercameintomyhutandsquatteddownbesideme.
“Heisadangerman,Lin,”hesaidwithoutpreamble.
“What?”
“ThisAbdullahfellow,whocameheretoday.Heisaverydangerman.Youarebetternotforanyknowingofhim.Anddoingswithhimareevenworselydangerous,also.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Heis…”Prabakerpaused,andthestrugglewasexplicitinhisgentle,openface.“Heisakillingman,Lin.Amurderingfellow.
Heiskillingthepeopleformoney.Heisagoonda-agangsterfellow-forKhaderbhai.Everybodyknowsthis.Everybody,exceptofyou.”
Iknewitwastruewithoutaskinganymore,withoutashredofproofbeyondPrabaker’sword.It’strue,Isaidinmymind.Insayingit,IrealisedthatI’dalwaysknown,orsuspectedit.Itwasinthewayotherpeopletreatedhim,thewhispersheinspired,andthefearI’dseeninsomanyoftheeyesthatlookedintohis.ItwasinthewaysthatAbdullahwaslikethebestandmostdangerousmenI’dknowninprison.That,orsomethinglikethat,hadtobetrue.
Itriedtothinkclearlyaboutwhathewas,andwhathedid,andwhatmyrelationshiptohimshouldorshouldn’tbe.Khaderbhaiwasright,ofcourse.AbdullahandIwereverymuchalike.Weweremenofviolence,whenviolencewasrequired,andweweren’tafraidtobreakthelaw.Wewerebothoutlaws.Wewerebothaloneintheworld.AndAbdullah,likeme,wasreadytodieforanyreasonthatseemedgoodenoughontheday.ButI’dneverkilledanyone.Inthat,weweredifferentmen.
Still,Ilikedhim.Ithoughtofthatafternoonatthelepers’slum,andIrecalledhowself-assuredI’dbeentherewithAbdullah.IknewthatapartofwhateverequanimityI’dmanagedtodisplay,perhapsmostofit,hadreallybeenhis.WithhimI’dbeenstrongandabletocope.HewasthefirstmanI’dmet,sincetheescapefromprison,who’dhadthateffectonme.Hewasthekindofmanthattoughcriminalscallahundred-percenter:thekindofmanwho’llputhislifeonthelineifhecallsyouhisfriend;thekindwho’llputhisshoulderbesideyours,withoutquestionorcomplaint,andstandwithyouagainstanyodds.
Becausemenlikethataresooftentheheroesinfilmsandbooks,weforgethowraretheyareintherealworld.ButIknew.Itwasoneofthethingsthatprisontaughtme.Prisonpullsthemasksawayfrommen.Youcan’thidewhatyouare,inprison.Youcan’tpretendtobetough.Youare,oryou’renot,andeveryoneknowsit.Andwhentheknivescameoutagainstme,astheydidmorethanonce,anditwaskillorbekilled,Ilearnedthatonlyonemaninhundredswillstandwithyou,totheend,infriendship’sname.
PrisonalsotaughtmehowtorecognisethoseraremenwhenImetthem.IknewthatAbdullahwassuchaman.Inmyhuntedexile,bitingbackthefear,readytofightanddieeveryhauntedday,thestrengthandwildnessandwillthatIfoundinhimweremore,andbetter,thanallthetruthandgoodnessintheworld.Andsittingthereinmyhut,stripedwithhotwhitelightandcoolingshadows,Ipledgedmyselftohimasbrotherandfriend,nomatterwhathe’ddone,andnomatterwhathewas.
IlookedupintoPrabaker’sworriedface,andsmiled.Hesmiledbackatme,reflexively,andinaninstantofunusualclarityIsawthat,forhim,Iwastheonewhoinspiredsomethingofthatconfidence:asAbdullahwastome,sowasItoPrabaker.
Friendshipisalsoakindofmedicine,andthemarketsforit,too,aresometimesblack.
“Don’tworry,”Isaid,reachingouttoputahandonhisshoulder.“It’llbeallright.It’llbefine.Nothing’sgoingtohappentome.”
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CHAPTERELEVEN
Thelongdays,workingintheslumandgrindingcommissionsfromthehard,jewelledeyesoftourists,unfoldedoneuponanotherthroughthetumbleofcrowdedhourslikelotuspetalsinasummerdawn.Therewasalwaysalittlemoney,andsometimesalotofit.
Ononeafternoon,afewweeksafterthatfirstvisittothelepers,IfellinwithapartyofItaliantouristswhoplannedtoselldrugstoothertouristsatsomeofthebiggerdancepartiesinGoa.Withmyhelp,theyboughtfourkilosofcharrasandtwothousandMandraxtablets.IlikeddoingillegalbusinesswithItalians.Theyweresingle-mindedandsystematicinthepursuitoftheirpleasures,andstylishinthepracticeoftheirbusiness.Theywerealsogenerous,forthemostpart,believinginafairminute’spayforafairminute’swork.Thecommissiononthatdealgavemeenoughmoneytoretireforafewweeks.Theslumabsorbedmydays,andmostofmynights.
ItwaslateAprilthen,onlyalittlemorethanamonthbeforethemonsoon.Theslum-dwellerswerebusymakingpreparationsforthecomingoftherain.Therewasaquieturgencyinthework.Weallknewwhattroublesthedarkeningskywouldbring.Yettherewashappinessineverylane,andexcitementintheeasysmilesoftheyoungonesbecause,afterthehot,drymonths,allofuswerehungryforclouds.
QasimAliHusseinappointedPrabakerandJohnnyCigarastheleadersoftwoteamswhowereresponsibleforhelpingwidows,orphans,disabledpeople,andabandonedwivestorepairtheirhuts.Prabakerwontheassistanceofafewwillingladstogatherbamboopolesandsmalllengthsoftimberfromthepilesofscrapattheconstructionsitebesideourslum.JohnnyCigarchosetoorganiseseveralstreetkidsintoamaraudingbandofpirateswhoplunderedtheneighbourhoodforpiecesoftin,canvas,andplastic.Allmannerofthingsthatmightbeusedasweatherproofingmaterialsbegantovanishfromthevicinityoftheslum.Onenotableexpeditionbythetinypilferersproducedahugetarpaulinthat,fromitsshape,hadclearlybeenthecamouflagecoverforabattletank.Thatpieceofmilitarysoftwarewascutintoninepieces,andusedtoprotectasmanyhuts.
Ijoinedateamofyoungmenwho’dbeengiventhetaskofclearingthedrainsandgulliesofsnarlsandsnags.Monthsofneglecthadfilledthoseplaceswithanaccumulationofcansandplasticbottlesandjars-everythingthatratswouldn’teatandthatscavengershadn’tfound.Itwasdirtywork,andIwasgladtodoit.Ittookmetoeverycorneroftheslum,andintroducedmetohundredsofpeopleImightotherwiseneverhaveknown.Andtherewasacertainkudosinthejob:humbleandimportanttaskswereasesteemedintheslumastheywerereviledinthewidercommunity.Alltheteamswhoworkedtodefendthehutsfromthecomingrainwererewardedwithlove.Weonlyhadtoliftourheadsfromthefilthydrainstofindourselvesinaluxuriantgardenofsmiles.
Asheadmanintheslum,QasimAliHusseinwasinvolvedineveryplananddecisioninthosepreparations.Hisauthoritywasclearandunquestioned,butitwasasubtle,unobtrusiveleadership.Anincidentthatoccurredinthoseweeksbeforetherainbroughtmeintotheambitofhiswisdom,andrevealedtomewhyitwassowidelyrevered.
AgroupofushadgatheredinQasimAli’shut,oneafternoon,tohearhiseldestsontellstoriesofhisadventuresinKuwait.
Iqbal,atall,musculartwenty-four-yearoldwithanhoneststareandashysmile,hadrecentlyreturnedaftersixmonthsofworkasacontractlabourerinKuwait.Manyoftheyoungmenwereeagertogainfromhisexperience.Whatwerethebestjobs?Whowerethebestmasters?Whoweretheworstones?HowdidyoumakeextramoneybetweentheflourishingblackmarketsoftheGulfStatesandthoseofBombay?Iqbalheldimpromptuclasseseveryafternoonforaweekinthemainroomofhisfather’shut,andthecrowdspilledoutintotheforecourttoshareinhispreciousknowledge.Onthatday,however,hisdiscourseswereinterruptedabruptlybyshoutsandscreaming.
Werushedoutofthehutandrantowardsthesound.Notfaraway,wediscoveredanoisymobofmen,women,andchildren.Wepushedourwaytothecentre,wheretwoyoungmenwerewrestlingandpunchingatoneanother.TheirnameswereFaroukhandRaghuram.
TheywerefromtheteamthatwashelpingPrabakertogatherpolesandlengthsofwood.IqbalandJohnnyCigarseparatedthecombatants,andQasimAlisteppedbetweenthem,hispresencequietingtheraucouscrowdatonce.
“Whatishappeninghere?”heasked,hisvoiceunusuallystern.
“Whyareyoufighting?”
“TheProphet,mayAllahgranthimpeace!”Faroukhshouted.“HeinsultedtheProphet!”
“AndheinsultedtheLordRam!”Raghuramcountered.
Thecrowdsupportedoneortheotherwithshrieksandcondemnations.QasimAligavethemhalfaminuteofnoise,andthenraisedhishandsforsilence.
“Faroukh,Raghuram,youtwoarefriends,goodfriends,”hesaid.
“Youknowthatfightingisnowaytosettleyourdifferences.Andyoubothknowthatfightingbetweenfriendsandneighboursistheworstfightingofall.”
“ButtheProphet,peacebeuponhim!RaghuinsultedtheProphet.
Ihadtofightwithhim,”Faroukhwhined.Hewasstillangry,butQasimAli’shardstarewascausinghimtowilt,andhecouldn’tmeettheolderman’seye.
“AndwhatofinsultingtheLordRam?”Raghuramprotested.“Isn’tthatalsoareasonto-”
“Thereisnoexcuse!”QasimAlithundered,silencingeveryvoice.
“Thereisnoreasonthatisgoodenoughtomakeusfightwitheachother.Weareallpoormenhere.Thereareenemiesenoughforallofusoutsidethisplace.Welivetogether,orwedie.
Youtwoyoungfoolshavehurtourpeople,yourownpeople.Youhavehurtallofourpeople,ofeveryfaith,andyouhaveshamedmeterribly.”
Thecrowdhadgrowntomorethanahundredpeople.Qasim’swordscausedastirofrumblingcommentsthatrippledthroughthem,asheadstouchedtogether.Thoseclosesttohim,atthecentre,repeatedwhathe’dsaid,relayingthemessagetoothersattheedgesofthegroup.FaroukhandRaghuramhungtheirheadswretchedly.QasimAli’schargethatthey’dshamedhim,ratherthanthemselves,wasatellingblow.
“Youmustbothbepunishedforthis,”Qasimsaid,alittlemoregently,whenthecrowdwasquieter.“YourparentsandIwillchooseapunishmentforyoutonight.Untilthen,youwillworkfortherestofthedayatcleaningtheareaaroundthelatrine.”
Newmurmursbuzzedthroughthecrowd.Conflictsbasedonreligionwerepotentiallydangerous,andpeopleweregladtoseethatQasimtookthematterseriously.ManyofthevoicesaroundmespokeofthefriendshipbetweenFaroukhandRaghuram,andIrealisedthatwhatQasimhadsaidwastrue-thefightingbetweenclosefriendsofdifferentfaithshadhurtthecommunity.ThenQasimAliremovedthelonggreenscarfthatheworearoundhisneck,andhelditaloftforalltosee.
“Youwillworkinthelatrinenow.Butfirst,FaroukhandRaghuram,Iwillbindyoutogetherwiththis,myscarf.Itwillremindyouthatyouarefriendsandbrothers,whilecleaningthelatrinewillfillyournoseswiththestinkofwhatyouhavedonetoeachothertoday.”
Hekneltthen,andtiedthetwoyoungmentogetherattheankle,Faroukh’srighttoRaghuram’sleft.Whenitwasdone,hestoodandtoldthemtogo,pointingwithoutstretchedarminthedirectionofthelatrine.Thecrowdpartedforthem,andtheyoungmentriedtowalk,buttheystumbledatfirst,andsoonrealisedthattheyhadtoholdontightlyandwalkinstepiftheyweretomakeanyprogressatall.Theyclaspedtheirarmsaroundoneanother,andhobbledawayonthreelegs.
Thecrowdwatchedthemwalk,andbegantochatterinpraiseofQasimAli’swisdom.Suddenlytherewaslaughterwhereaminutebeforethere’dbeentensionandfear.Peopleturnedtospeaktohim,butdiscoveredthatQasimwasalreadywalkingbacktohishut.Iwascloseenoughtohimtoseethathewassmiling.
Iwaslucky,andsharedthatsmileofteninthosemonths.Qasimvisitedmyhuttwoandsometimesthreetimesaweek,checkingonmyprogresswiththeincreasingnumberofpatientswhocametomeafterDoctorHamidbegantoacceptmyreferrals.Occasionally,theheadmanbroughtsomeonewithhim-achildwho’dbeenbittenbyrats,orayoungmanwho’dbeeninjuredattheconstructionsitebesidetheslum.Afterawhile,Irealisedthattheywerepeoplehe’dchosentobringtome,personally,becauseforonereasonoranothertheywerereluctanttocomealone.Someweresimplyshy.Somehadresentmentsagainstforeigners,andrefusedtotrustthem.Otherswereunwillingtotryanyformofmedicineotherthantraditional,villageremedies.
Ihadsometroublewiththevillageremedies.InthemainIapprovedofthem,andevenadoptedthemwhereveritwaspossible,preferringsomeoftheayurvedicmedicinestotheirwesternpharmaceuticalequivalents.Sometreatments,however,seemedtobebasedonobscuresuperstitionsratherthantherapeutictraditions,andtheywereascontrarytocommonsenseastheyweretoanynotionsofmedicalscience.Thepracticeofapplyingacolouredtourniquetofherbstotheupperarmasacureforsyphilis,forexample,struckmeasparticularlycounter-productive.Arthritisandrheumatismweresometimestreatedbytakingcherry-redcoalsfromthefirewithmetaltongs,andholdingthemagainstthekneesandelbowsofthesufferer.QasimAlitoldme,privately,thathedidn’tapproveofthemoreextremeremedies,buthedidn’tprohibitthem.Instead,hevisitedmeregularly;andbecausethepeoplelovedhim,theyfollowedhisexampleandcametomeingreaternumbers.
QasimAli’snut-brownskin,stretchedoverhisleanandsinewybody,wasassmoothandtautasaboxer’sglove.Histhick,silver-greyhairwasshort,andhesportedagoateebeardoneshadelighterthanhishair.Hemostoftenworeacottonkurtahandplain,white,western-styletrousers.Althoughtheyweresimple,inexpensiveclothes,theywerealwaysfreshlywashedandironed,andhechangedthemtwiceeveryday.Anotherman,alessreveredmanwithsimilarhabitsofdress,would’vebeenconsideredsomethingofadandy.ButQasimAliraisedsmilesofloveandadmirationwhereverhewentintheslum.Hisimmaculatelyclean,whiteclothesseemedtoallofusasymbolofhisspiritualityandmoralintegrity-qualitieswedependedon,inthatlittleworldofstruggleandhope,nolessurgentlythanwedependedonthewaterfromthecommunalwell.
Hisfifty-fiveyearssatlightlyonhistaller-than-averageframe.Morethanonce,Iwatchedhimandhisyoungsonrunfromthewatertankstotheirhutwithheavycontainersofwaterhoistedontotheirshoulders,andtheywereneck-and-neckalltheway.Whenhesatdownonthereedmats,inthemainroomofhishut,hedidsowithouttouchinghishandstotheground.Hecrossedhisfeetoverandthenloweredhimselftoasittingpositionbybendinghisknees.Hewasahandsomeman,andagreatpartofhisbeautyderivedfromthehealthyvitalityandnaturalgracethatsupportedhisinspirationalandcommandingwisdom.
Withhisshort,silver-greyhair,leanfigure,anddeeplyresonantvoice,QasimremindedmeoftenofKhaderbhai.Ilearned,sometimelater,thatthetwopowerfulmenkneweachotherwell,andwereinfactclosefriends.Buttherewereconsiderabledifferencesbetweenthem,andperhapsnonemoresignificantthantheauthorityoftheirleadership,andhowthey’dcomebyit.Qasimwasgivenhispowerbyapeoplewholovedhim.Khaderbhaihadseizedhispower,andhelditbystrengthofwillandforceofarms.Andinthecontrastofpowers,itwasthemafialord’sthatdominated.ThepeopleoftheslumchoseQasimAliastheirleaderandheadman,butitwasKhaderbhaiwho’dapprovedthechoice,andwho’dallowedittohappen.
Qasimwascalledupontoexercisehispowerfrequentlybecausehiswastheonlyrealday-to-dayauthorityintheslum.Heresolvedthosedisputesthathadescalatedintoconflicts.Hemediatedclaimsandcounterclaimsconcerningpropertyandrightsofaccess.Andmanypeoplesimplysoughthisadviceabouteverythingfromemploymenttomarriages.
Qasimhadthreewives.Hisfirstwife,Fatimah,wastwoyearsyoungerthanhewas.Hissecondwife,Shaila,wasyoungerbytenyears.Histhirdwife,Najimah,wasonlytwenty-eightyearsold.
Hisfirstmarriagehadbeenforlove.Thetwosubsequentmarriagesweretopoorwidowswhomightnototherwisehavefoundnewhusbands.Thewivesborehimtenchildrenbetweenthem-foursonsandsixdaughters-andtherewerefiveotherchildrenwho’dcometohimwiththewidowedwives.Togivethewomenfinancialindependence,heboughtfourfoot-treadlesewingmachinesforthem.Hisfirstwife,Fatimah,setthemachinesupunderacanvascanopy,outsidethehut,andhiredone,two,three,andeventuallyfourmaletailorstoworkatmakingshirtsandtrousers.
Themodestenterpriseprovidedlivingwagesforthetailorsandtheirfamilies,andameasureofprofit,whichwasdividedequallyamongthethreewives.Qasimtooknopartintherunningofthebusiness,andhepaidallthehouseholdexpenses,sothemoneymadebyhiswiveswastheirowntospendorsaveastheywished.Intime,thetailorsboughtslumhutsaroundQasim’sown,andtheirwivesandchildrenlivedsidebysidewithQasim’s,makingupahuge,extendedfamilyofthirty-fourpersonswholookedupontheheadmanasfatherandfriend.Itwasarelaxedandcontentedhousehold.Therewasnobickeringorbadtemper.
Thechildrenplayedhappilyanddidtheirchoreswillingly.Andseveraltimesaweek,heopenedhislargemainroomtothepublicasamajlis,orforum,wheretheslum-dwellerscouldairtheirgrievancesormakerequests.
NotallthedisputesorproblemsintheslumwerebroughttoQasimAli’shouseforatimelyresolution,ofcourse,andsometimesQasimwasforcedtotakeontherolesofpolicemanandmagistrateinthatunofficialandself-regulatingsystem.Iwasdrinkingteaintheforegroundofhishouseonemorning,someweeksafterAbdullahtookmetothelepers,whenJeetendrarusheduptouswiththenewsthatamanwasbeatinghiswife,anditwasfearedthathemightkillher.QasimAli,Jeetendra,Anand,Prabaker,andIwalkedquicklythroughthenarrowlanestoastripofhutsthatformedtheperimeteroftheslumatthelineofmangroveswamp.Alargecrowdhadgatheredoutsideoneofthehutsand,aswenearedit,wecouldhearapitiablescreamingandthesmackofblowsfromwithin.
QasimAlisawJohnnyCigarstandingclosetothehut,andpushedhiswaythroughthesilentcrowdtojoinhim.
“What’shappening?”hedemanded.
“Josephisdrunk,”Johnnyrepliedsourly,spittingnoisilyinthedirectionofthehut.“Thebahinchudhhasbeenbashinghiswifeallmorning.”
“Allmorning?Howlonghasthisbeengoingon?”
“Threehours,maybelonger.Ijustgotheremyself.Theotherstoldmeaboutit.That’swhyIsentforyou,Qasimbhai.”
QasimAlidrewhisbrowstogetherinafiercefrown,andstaredangrilyintoJohnny’seyes.
“ThisisnotthefirsttimethatJosephhasbeatenhiswife.Whydidn’tyoustopit?”
“I…”Johnnybegan,buthecouldn’tholdthestare,andhelookeddownatthestonygroundattheirfeet.Therewasakindofrageinhim,andhelookedclosetotears.“I’mnotafraidofhim!I’mnotafraidofanymanhere!Youknowthat!But,theyare…theyare…sheishiswife…”
Theslum-dwellerslivedinadense,crowdedproximity.Themostintimatesoundsandmovementsoftheirlivesentwined,constantly,eachwitheveryother.Andlikepeopleeverywhere,theywerereluctanttointerfereinwhatweusuallycalldomesticdisputes,evenwhenthoseso-calleddisputesbecameviolent.
QasimAlireachedoutandputacompassionatehandonJohnny’sshouldertocalmhim,andcommandedthathestopJoseph’sviolenceatonce.Justthenanewburstofshoutingandblowscamefromthehouse,followedbyaharrowingscream.
Severalofussteppedforward,determinedtoputastoptothebeating.Suddenly,theflimsydoorofthehutcrashedopen,andJoseph’swifefellthroughthedoorwayandfaintedatourfeet.
Shewasnaked.Herlonghairwaswildlyknottedandmattedwithblood.She’dbeencruellybeatenwithsomekindofstick,andblue-redweltscrossedandslashedherback,buttocks,andlegs.
Thecrowdflinchedandrecoiledinhorror.Theywereasaffectedbyhernakedness,Iknew,astheywerebytheterriblewoundsonherbody.Iwasaffectedbyitmyself.Inthoseyears,nakednesswaslikeasecretreligioninIndia.No-onebuttheinsaneorthesacredwaseverpubliclynaked.Friendsintheslumtoldmewithunaffectedhonestythatthey’dbeenmarriedforyearsandhadneverseentheirownwivesnaked.WewereallstrickenwithpityforJoseph’swife,andshamepassedamongus,burningoureyes.
Ashoutcamefromthehutthen,andJosephstumbledthroughthedoorway.Hiscottonpantswerestainedwithurine,andhisT-shirtwastornandfilthy.Wild,stupiddrunkennesstwistedhisfeatures.Hishairwasdishevelled,andbloodstainedhisface.
Thebamboostickhe’dusedtobeathiswifewasstillinhishands.Hesquintedinthesunlight,andthenhisblurredgazefellonhiswife’sbody,lyingfacedownbetweenhimselfandthecrowd.Hecursedher,andtookastepforward,raisingthesticktostrikeheragain.
Theshockthathadparalysedusescapedinacollectivegasp,andwerushedforwardtostophim.Surprisingly,littlePrabakerwasthefirsttoreachJoseph,andhegrappledwiththemuchbiggerman,pushinghimbackwards.ThestickwaswrenchedfromJoseph’shand,andhewashelddownontheground.Hethrashedandscreamed,astringofviolentcursesspillingwiththedroolfromhislips.Afewwomencameforward,wailingasifinmourning.
TheycoveredJoseph’swifewithayellowsilksari,liftedher,andcarriedheraway.
Thecrowdmight’vebecomealynchmob,then,butQasimAlitookchargeofthesceneimmediately.Heorderedthepeopletodisperse,orstandback,andhetoldthemenwhowereholdingJosephtokeephimpinnedontheground.Hisnextcommandastonishedme.Ithoughthemightcallforthepolice,orhaveJosephtakenaway.Instead,heaskedwhatalcoholJosephhadbeendrinking,anddemandedthattwobottlesofitbebroughttohim.
Healsocalledforcharrasandachillum,andtoldJohnnyCigartoprepareasmoke.Whentherough,home-brewedalcohol,knownasdaru,wasproduced,heinstructedPrabakerandJeetendratoforceJosephtodrink.
TheysatJosephinacircleofstrong,youngmen,andofferedhimoneofthebottles.Heglaredatthemsuspiciouslyforafewmoments,butthensnatchedthebottleandtookalong,greedyswig.Theyoungmenaroundhimpattedhimontheback,encouraginghimtodrinkmore.Hegulpeddownmoreoftheextremelypowerfuldaruandthentriedtopushitaway,sayingthathe’dhadenough.Theyoungmenbecameforcefulintheircoaxing.Theylaughedandjokedwithhim,holdingthebottletohislipsanddrivingitbetweenhisteeth.JohnnyCigarlitthechillum,andpassedittoJoseph.Hesmokedanddrankandsmokedagain.Then,sometwentyminutesafterhe’dfirststumbledfromthehutwiththebloodystickinhishand,Josephdippedhisheadandpassedoutcoldontherubble-strewnpath.
Thecrowdwatchedhimsnoreforawhile,andthentheygraduallydriftedawaytotheirhutsandtheirjobs.QasimtoldthegroupofyoungmentostayintheircirclearoundJoseph’sbody,andwatchhimclosely.Heleftforabouthalfanhourtoperformthemid-morningprayer.Whenhereturned,heorderedteaandwater.
JohnnyCigar,Anand,Rafiq,Prabaker,andJeetendrawereinthewatchfulcircle.Astrong,youngfishermannamedVeejaywasalsointhegroup,andalean,fitcart-pusherknownasAndhkaara,orDarkness,becauseofhisluminouslydarkskin.Theytalkedquietlywhilethesunrosetoitszenith,andtheswelteringhumidityofthedayclampedamoistgriponusall.
Iwould’veleftthen,butQasimAliaskedmetostay,soIsatdownundertheshadeofacanvasveranda.Veejay’sfour-year-olddaughter,Sunita,broughtmeaglassofwater,withoutmyaskingforit.Isippedthelukewarmliquidgratefully
“Tsanglimulgi,tsanglimulgi,”Ithankedher,inMarathi.Goodgirl,goodgirl.
Sunitawasdelightedthatshe’dpleasedme,andstaredbackatmewithafuriouslittlesmiling-frown.SheworeascarletdresswiththewordsMYCHEEKYFACESprintedinEnglishacrossthefront.Inoticedthatthedresswastorn,andtootightforher,andImadeamentalnotetobuysomeclothesforherandafewoftheotherkidsinthecheapclothingbazaar,knownasFashionStreet.ItwasthesamementalnoteImadeeveryday,everytimeItalkedtotheclever,happykidsintheslum.Shetooktheemptyglassandskippedaway,themetalbellsofheranklebraceletsjinglingtheirsmallmusic,andhertiny,barefeettoughagainstthestones.
Whenallthemenhadtakentea,QasimAliorderedthemtowakeJoseph.Theybegantoprodandpokehimroughly,shoutingathimtowakeup.Hestirred,andgrumbledresentfully,wakingveryslowly.Heopenedhiseyesandshookhisgroggyhead,callingpetulantlyforwater.
“Paninahin,”Qasimsaid.Nowater.
Theyforcedthesecondbottleonhim,roughlyinsistent,butcajolinghimwithjokesandpatsontheback.Anotherchillumwasproduced,andtheyoungmensmokedwithhim.Hegrowledrepeatedlyforwater.Everytime,hefoundthestrongalcoholthrustintohismouthinstead.Beforeathirdofthebottlewasfinished,hefaintedagain,collapsingtothesidewithhisheadlollingatanawkwardangle.Hisfacewasbaretotheclimbingsun.No-onemadeanyattempttoshadehim.
QasimAliallowedhimamerefiveminutestodozebeforeorderingthathebewoken.Joseph’sgrumblingwasangryashewoke,andhebegantosnarlandcurse.Hetriedtoraisehimselftohisknees,andcrawlbacktohishut.QasimAlitookthebloodiedbamboostick,andhandedittoJohnnyCigar.Hespokeonewordofcommand.Begin!
Johnnyraisedthestick,andbroughtitdownonJoseph’sbackwitharesoundingsmack.Josephhowled,andtriedtocrawlaway,butthecircleofyoungmenpushedhimbacktothecentreoftheirgroup.Johnnystruckhimwiththestickagain.Josephscreamedangrily,buttheyoungmenslappedathimandshoutedforsilence.Johnnyraisedthestick,andJosephcowered,tryingtofocushisblearyeyes
“Doyouknowwhatyouhavedone?”Johnnydemandedharshly.HebroughtthestickdownwithawhackonJoseph’sshoulder.“Speak,youdrunkendog!Doyouknowwhataterriblethingyouhavedone?”
“Stophittingme!”Josephsnarled.“Whyareyoudoingthis?”
“Doyouknowwhatyouhavedone?”Johnnyrepeated.Thestickstruckagain.
“Ow-ah!”Josephshrieked.“What?WhathaveIdone?I’vedonenothing!”
Veejaytookthestick,andbeatJosephontheupperarm.
“Youbeatyourwife,youdrunkenpig!Youbeather,andmaybeshewilldie!”
HepassedthesticktoJeetendra,whousedittosmackJosephonthethigh.
“She’sdying!Youareamurderer!Youmurderedyourownwife.”
Josephtriedtoshieldhimselfwithhisarms,castinghiseyesaboutfeverishlyforsomeescape.Jeetendraliftedthestickagain.
“Youbeatyourwifeallmorning,andthrewhernakedfromthehut.Takethat,youdrunkard!Andthat!Justasyoubeather.Howdoyoulikeit,youmurderer?”
TheslowcreepofafoggycomprehensionstiffenedJoseph’sfaceintoaterrifiedanguish.JeetendrapassedthesticktoPrabaker,andthenextblowbroughttears.
“Oh,no!”hesobbed.“It’snottrue!Ihaven’tdoneanything!Oh,whatwillhappentome?Ididn’tmeantokillher!Godinheaven,whatwillhappentome?Givemewater.Ineedwater!”
“Nowater,”QasimAlisaid.
Thestickcamedownagainandagain.ItwasinAndhkaara’shand.
“Worryingaboutyourself,dog?Whataboutyourpoorwife?Youdidn’tworrywhenyoubeather.Thisisnotthefirsttimeyoutookthissticktoher,isit?Nowitisfinished.Youkilledher.Youcanneverbeatheragain,notheroranyone.Youwilldieinthejail.”
JohnnyCigartookthestickagain.
“Suchabig,strongfellowyouare!Sobravetobeatyourwife,whoishalfyoursize.Comeonandbeatme,hero!Comeon,takethisstickofyours,andbeatamanwithit,youcheapgoonda.”
“Water…”Josephblubbered,collapsingtothegroundintearsofself-pity.
“Nowater,”QasimAlisaid,andJosephdriftedintounconsciousnessoncemore.
Whentheywokehimthenexttime,Josephhadbeeninthesunforalmosttwohours,andhisdistresswasgreat.Heshoutedforwater,buttheyofferedhimonlythedarubottle.Icouldseethathewantedtorefuseit,buthisthirstwasbecomingdesperate.Heacceptedthebottlewithtremblinghands.Justasthefirstdropstouchedhisparchedtongue,thestickcamedownagain.Daruspilledoverhisstubbledchin,andranfromhisgapingmouth.Hedroppedthebottle.Johnnypickeditupandpouredtheremainingalcoholoverhishead.Josephshriekedandtriedtoscrambleawayonhishandsandknees,butthecircleofmenwrestledhimbacktothecentre.Jeetendrawieldedthestick,smackingitontohisbuttocksandlegs.Josephwhinedandweptandmoaned.
QasimAliwassittingtooneside,intheshadeddoorwayofahut.HecalledPrabakertohim,andgaveordersthatanumberofJoseph’sfriendsandrelativesshouldbesentfor,aswellasrelativesofMaria,Joseph’swife.Asthepeoplearrived,theytooktheplacesoftheyoungmeninthecircle,andJoseph’stormentcontinued.Forseveralhours,hisfriendsandrelativesandneighbourstookturnstovilifyandaccusehim,beatinghimwiththestickhe’dusedtoassaulthiswifesosavagely.Theblowsweresharp,andtheyhurthim,buttheyweren’tsevereenoughtobreaktheskin.
Itwasameasuredpunishmentthatwaspainful,butnevervicious.
Ileftthescene,andreturnedafewtimesduringtheafternoon.
Manyoftheslum-dwellerswhowerepassingthatwaystoppedtowatch.PeoplejoinedthecirclearoundJoseph,orleftit,astheywished.QasimAlisatinthedoorwayofthehut,hisbackstraightandhisexpressiongrave,nevertakinghiseyesfromthecircle.Hedirectedthepunishmentwithaquietwordorasubtlegesture,keepingarelentlesspressureontheman,butpreventinganyexcesses.
Josephpassedouttwicemorebeforehefinallybrokedown.Whentheendcame,hewascrushed.Allthespiteanddefianceinhimweredefeated.Hesobbedthenameofhiswifeoverandoveragain.Maria,Maria,Maria…
QasimAlistood,andapproachedthecircle.Itwasthemomenthe’dwaitedfor,andhenoddedtoVeejay,whobroughtadishofwarmwater,soap,andtwotowelsfromanearbyhut.Thesamemenwho’dbeenbeatingJosephcradledhimintheirarms,then,andwashedhisface,neck,hands,andfeet.Theygavehimwater.Theycombedhishair.Theysoothedhimwithhugsandthefirstkindwordshe’dheardsincethebeginningofhischastisement.Theytoldhimthatifheweregenuinelysorryhewouldbeforgiven,andgivenhelp.Manypeoplewerebroughtforward,myselfincluded,andJosephwasmadetotouchourfeet.Theydressedhiminacleanshirt,andproppedhimup,theirarmsandshoulderssupportinghimtenderly.QasimAlisquattedclosetohim,andstaredintohisbloodshoteyes.
“Yourwife,Maria,isnotdead,”QasimAlisaidsoftly.
“Not…notdead?”hemumbled.
“No,Joseph,sheisnotdead.Sheisverybadlyinjured,butsheisalive.”
“ThankGod,thankGod.”
“Thewomenofyourfamily,andMaria’sfamily,havedecidedwhatistobedone,”Qasimsaidslowly,firmly.“Areyousorry-doyouknowwhatyouhavedonetoyourwife,andareyousorryforit?”
“Yes,Qasimbhai,”Josephwept.“I’msosorry,sosorry.”
“ThewomenhavedecidedthatyoumustnotseeMariafortwomonths.Sheisveryill.Youalmostkilledher,andshemusttaketwomonthstorecover.Inthistime,youwillworkeveryday.Youwillworklonghoursandhard.Youwillsaveyourmoney.Youwillnotdrinkevenonedropofdaruorbeeroranythingbutwater.Doyouunderstand?Nochaiormilkoranythingbutwater.Youmustobservethisfast,aspartofyourpunishment.”
Josephwaggedhisheadfeebly.
“Yes,yes.Iwill.”
“Mariamaydecidenottotakeyouback.Youmustknowthisalso.
Shemaywanttodivorceyou,evenafterthetwomonths-andifshedoes,Iwillhelpherinthis.Butattheendoftwomonths,ifshewantstoacceptyouagain,youwillusethemoneyyouhavesavedbythisextrahardwork,andyouwilltakeheronaholidaytothecoolmountains.Duringretreatinthatplace,withyourwife,youwillfacethisuglinessinyourself,andyouwilltrytoovercomeit.Inshallah,youwillmakeahappyandvirtuousfuture,foryourwifeandyourself.Thisisthedecision.Gonow.
Nomoretalking.Eatnow,andsleep.”
Qasimstood,turned,andwalkedaway.Joseph’sfriendshelpedhimtohisfeet,andhalf-carriedhimtohishut.Thehuthadbeencleaned,andallofMaria’sclothesandpersonalarticleshadbeenremoved.Josephwasgivenriceanddhal.Heatealittleofit,andthenlaybackonhisthinmattress.Twofriendssatnearhim,andfannedhisunconsciousbodywithgreenpaperfans.Acordwastiedaroundoneendofthebloodystick,andJohnnyCigarsuspendeditfromapostoutsideJoseph’shutforalltosee.ItwouldremainthereforthetwomonthsofJoseph’sfurtherpunishment.
Someoneturnedaradiooninahutnotfaraway,andaHindilovesongwailedthroughthelanesandgulliesofthebusyslum.Achildwascryingsomewhere.ChickensscratchedandpeckedattheplacewhereJoseph’scircleoftormenthadbeen.Somewhereelse,awomanwaslaughing,childrenplayed,thebangle-sellersangouthisenticement-callinMarathi.Abangleisbeauty,andbeautyisabangle!
Asthepulseandpushofnormallifereturnedtotheslum,Iwalkedbacktomyhut,throughthewindinglanes.FishermenandfisherwomenwerecominghomefromSassoonDock,bringingbasketsofsea-smellwiththem.Inoneofthosebalancingcontrastsofslumlife,itwasalsothehourchosenbytheincense-sellerstomovethroughthelanes,burningtheirsamplesofsandalwood,jasmine,rose,andpatchouli.
IthoughtaboutwhatI’dseenthatday,whatthepeopledidforthemselvesintheirtinycityoftwenty-fivethousandsouls,withoutpolicemen,judges,courts,andprisons.IthoughtaboutsomethingQasimAlihadsaid,weeksbefore,whenthetwoboys,FaroukhandRaghuram,hadpresentedthemselvesforpunishment,havingspentadaytiedtogetherinworkatthelatrine.Afterthey’dscrubbedthemselvescleanwithahotbucket-bath,anddressedinnewlungisandclean,whitesinglets,thetwoboysstoodbeforeanassemblyoftheirfamilies,friends,andneighbours.Lamplightsflutteredinthebreeze,passingthegoldengleamfromeyetoeye,asshadowschasedoneanotheracrossthereed-matwallsofthehuts.QasimAlipronouncedthepunishmentthathadbeendecideduponbyacouncilofHinduandMuslimfriendsandneighbours.Theirpunishment,forfightingaboutreligion,wasthateachhadtolearnonecompleteprayerfromthereligiousobservancesoftheother.
“Inthiswayisjusticedone,”QasimAlisaidthatnight,hisbark-colouredeyessofteningonthetwoyoungmen,“becausejusticeisajudgementthatisbothfairandforgiving.Justiceisnotdoneuntileveryoneissatisfied,eventhosewhooffendusandmustbepunishedbyus.Youcansee,bywhatwehavedonewiththesetwoboys,thatjusticeisnotonlythewaywepunishthosewhodowrong.Itisalsothewaywetrytosavethem.”
Iknewthosewordsbyheart.I’dwrittenthemdowninmyworkjournal,notlongafterQasimAlihadspokenthem.AndwhenIreturnedtomyhutonthatdayofMaria’sagonies,thatdayofJoseph’sshame,Ilitalamp,andopenedtheblackjournal,andstaredatthewordsonthepage.Somewhereclosetome,sistersandfriendscomfortedMaria,andfannedherbruisedandbeatenbody.InJoseph’shut,PrabakerandJohnnyCigartookthefirstshifttowatchovertheirneighbourasheslept.Itwashot,then,asevening’slongshadowsbecamethenight.Ibreathedastillnessofair,dustyandfragrantwithscentsfromcookingfires.Anditwasquiet,inthosedark,thinkingmoments:quietenoughtohearsweatdropletsfrommysorrowedfacefalluponthepage,oneafteranother,eachwetcircleweepingoutwardintothewordsfair…forgiving…punish…andsave…
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CHAPTERTWELVE
Oneweekbecamethreeweeks,andonemonthbecamefive.Fromtimetotime,asIworkedthestreetsofColabawithmytouristclients,IranintoDidier,orVikram,orsomeoftheothersfromLeopold’s.SometimesIsawKarla,butIneverspoketoher.Ididn’twanttomeethereyeswhileIwaspoor,andlivingintheslum.Povertyandpridearedevotedbloodbrothersuntilone,alwaysandinevitably,killstheother.
Ididn’tseeAbdullahatallduringthatfifthmonth,butasuccessionofstrangeandoccasionallybizarremessengerscametotheslumwithnewsofhim.Iwassittingaloneatthetableinmyhutonemorning,writing,whentheghettodogsrousedmefrommyworkwithafuryofbarkingmorefrenziedthananythingI’deverheard.Therewasrageandterrorinit.Iputdownmypen,butdidn’topenmydoororevenmovefrommychair.Thedogswereoftenviciousatnight,butthatwasthefirsttimeI’deverheardsuchferocityinthedaylighthours.Thesoundwasfascinatingandalarming.AsIperceivedthatthepackwascomingnearerandslowlynearertomyhut,myheartbegantothump.
Shaftsofgoldenmorningstabbedthroughrentsandgapsinthefragilereedwallsofmyhut.Thosemote-filledraysstutteredandstrobedaspeoplerushedpastinthelaneoutside.Shoutsandscreamsjoinedthehowling.Ilookedaroundme.Theonlyweaponofanykindinmysmallhousewasathickbamboostick.Ipickeditup.Theriotofbarkingandvoicesconcentratedoutsidemyhut,andseemedtobecentredonmydoor.
IpulledopenthethinpieceofplywoodIusedasadoor,anddroppedthestickatonce.There,halfametreaway,wasahuge,brownbear.Theanimaltoweredoverme,fillingthedoorwaywithawesome,muscledfur.Itstoodeasilyonitshindlegs,withitsenormouspawsraisedtotheheightofmyshoulders.Thepresenceofthebeastprovokedtheghettodogstomadness.
Notdaringtocomewithinreach,theyturnedononeanotherintheirfiercerage.Ignoringthemandtheexcitedcrowdofpeople,thebearstoopedandleanedintowardthedoorwaytostareintomyeyes.Itseyeswerelarge,sentient,andtopaz-coloured.Itgrowled.Farfromthreatening,thebear’sgrowlwasarumbling,tumbling,oddlysoothingrollofsound,moreeloquentthantheprayerthatmutteredthroughmymind.MyfearslippedawayasIlistenedtoit.Acrossthathalf-metreofair,Ifeltthereverberationsoftheferalnoisethrobagainstmychest.Itleanedcloseruntilitsfaceandminewerecentimetresapart.
Frothdissolvedtoliquid,anddrippedfromitswet,blackjaws.
Thebearmeantmenoharm.Somehow,Iwassureofit.Theeyesofthebeastwerespeakingofsomethingelse.Itwassecondsonly,butinthatthuddingstillnessthecommunicationofananimalsadness,undilutedbyreasonandcompleteinitspassion,wassointenseandpure,fromeyetoeye,thatitseemedmuchlonger,andIwantedittogoon.
Thedogsslashedatoneanother,whiningandhowlinganagonyofhateandfear,wantingtoripatthebear,butmoreafraidthanenraged.Childrenscreamed,andpeoplescrambledtoavoidthethrashingdogs.Thebearturned,ponderouslyslow,butthenlashedoutswiftlyandsweptamassivepawatthedogs.Thedogsscattered,andanumberofyoungmenseizedtheopportunitytodrivethemfurtherawaywithstonesandsticks.
Thebearswayedfromsidetoside,scanningthecrowdwiththoselarge,dolorouseyes.Withaclearviewoftheanimal,Inoticedthatitworealeathercollarstuddedwithshortspikes.Twochainswerefastenedtothecollar,andtheytrailedawayintothehandsoftwomen.Ihadn’tseenthemuntilthen.Theywerebear-handlers,dressedinvests,turbans,andtrousers,allofwhichwereastartlingelectricbluecolour.Eventheirchestsandfaceswerepaintedblue,aswerethemetalchainsandcollarofthebear.Thebearturnedandstoodtofacemeagain.
Impossibly,oneofthemenwhohelditschainsspokemyname.
“Mr.Lin?YouareMr.Lin,Iamthinkingso?”heasked.
Thebeartilteditsheadasifit,too,wasaskingthequestion.
“Yes!”afewvoicesinthecrowdcalledout.“Yes!ThisisMr.
Lin!ThisisLinbaba!”
Iwasstillstandinginthedoorwayofmyhut,toosurprisedtospeakormove.Peoplewerelaughingandcheering.Afewofthemorecourageouschildrencreptalmostcloseenoughtotouchthebearwithdartingfingers.Theirmothersshriekedandlaughedandgatheredthembackintotheirarms.
“Weareyourfriends,”oneoftheblue-facedmensaid,inHindi.
Histeethweredazzlingwhite,againsttheblue.“Wehavecomewithamessageforyou.”
Thesecondmantookacrumpled,yellowenvelopefromthepocketofhisvestandhelditupformetosee.
“Amessage?”Imanagedtoask.
“Yes,animportantmessageforyou,sir,”thefirstmansaid.
“Butfirst,youmustdosomething.Thereisapromiseforgivingthemessage.Abigpromise.Youwilllikeitverymuch.”
TheywerespeakinginHindi,andIwasunfamiliarwiththewordvachan,meaningpromise.Isteppedfromthehut,edgingaroundthebear.ThereweremorepeoplethanI’dimagined,andtheycrowdedtogether,justoutofrangeofthebear’spaws.SeveralpeoplewererepeatingtheHindiwordvachan.Ababbleofothervoices,inseverallanguages,addedtotheshoutsandstonethrowingandbarkingdogstoproducethesoundeffectsforaminorriot.
Thedustonthestonypathsroseupinpuffsandswirls,andalthoughwewereinthecentreofamoderncity,thatplaceofbamboohutsandgapingcrowdsmight’vebeenavillageinaforgottenvalley.Thebear-handlers,whenIsawthemclearly,seemedfantasticbeings.Theirbarearmsandchestswerewellmuscledbeneaththebluepaint,andtheirtrousersweredecoratedwithsilverbellsanddiscsandtasselsofredandyellowsilk.
Bothmenhadlonghair,wornindreadlocksasthickastwofingers,andtippedwithcoilsofsilverwire.
Ifeltahandonmyarm,andalmostjumped.ItwasPrabaker.Hisusualsmilewaspreternaturallywideandhisdarkeyeswerehappy.
“Wearesoluckytohaveyoulivewithus,Lin.Youarealwaysbringingitsomanyadventuresofafullynot-boringkind!”
“Ididn’tbringthis,Prabu.Whatthehellaretheysaying?Whatdotheywant?”
“Theyhaveitamessageforyou,Lin.Butthereisavachan,apromise,beforetheywillgiveitthemessage.Thereisa…youknow…acatches.”
“Acatches?”“Yes,sure.ThisisEnglishword,yes?Catches.Itmeanslikealittlerevengeforbeingnice,”Prabakergrinnedhappily,seizingtheopportunitytoshareoneofhisEnglishdefinitionswithme.
Itwashishabitorfortuity,always,tofindthemostirritatingmomentstoofferthem.
“Yes,Iknowwhatacatchis,Prabu.WhatIdon’tknowis,whoaretheseguys?Who’sthismessagefrom?”
PrabakerrattledawayinrapidHindi,delightedtobethefocusofattentionintheexchange.Thebear-handlersansweredhiminsomedetail,speakingjustasswiftly.Icouldn’tunderstandmuchofwhatwassaid,butthoseinthecrowdwhowerecloseenoughtohearbrokeoutinanexplosionoflaughter.Thebeardroppeddownonallfoursandsniffedatmyfeet.
“Whatdidtheysay?”
“Lin,theywon’ttellwhoissendingitthemessages,”Prabakersaid,suppressinghisownlaughterwithsomedifficulty.“Thisisabigsecret,andtheyarenottellingit.Theyhavesomeinstructions,togivethismessagetoyou,withnothingexplanations,andwiththeonecatchesforyou,likeapromise.”
“Whatcatch?”
“Well,youhavetohugitthebear.”
“Ihavetowhat?”
“Hugitthebear.Youhavetogivehimabigcuddles,likethis.”
Hereachedoutandgrabbedmeinatighthug,hisheadpressedagainstmychest.Thecrowdapplaudedwildly,thebear-handlersshriekedinahigh-pitchedkeening,andeventhebearwasmovedtostandanddanceathudding,stomp-footedjig.Thebewildermentandobviousreluctanceonmyfacedrovethepeopletomoreandbiggerlaughter.
“Noway,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.
“Oh,yes,”Prabakerlaughed.
“Areyoukidding?Noway,man.”
“Takleefnahin!”oneofthebear-handlerscalledout.Noproblem!
“Itissafe.Kanoisveryfriendly.KanoisthefriendliestbearinallIndia.Kanolovesthepeople.”
Hemovedclosertothebear,shoutingcommandsinHindi.WhenKanothebearstoodtohisfullheight,thehandlersteppedinandembracedhim.Thebearcloseditspawsaroundhim,androckedbackwardsandforwards.Afterafewseconds,itreleasedtheman,andheturnedtothetumultuousapplauseofthecrowdwithabeamingsmileandashowman’sbow.
“Noway,”Isaidagain.
“Oh,comeon,Lin.Hugitthebear,”Prabakerpleaded,laughingharder.
“I’mnothuggingitanybear,Prabu.”
“Comeon,Lin.Don’tyouwanttoknowwhatisit,themessages?”
“No.”
“Itmightbeimportant.”
“Idon’tcare.”
“Youmightlikethathuggingbear,Lin,isn’tit?”
“No.”
“Youmight.”
“Iwon’t.”
“Well,maybe,wouldyoulikemetogiveyouanotherbighugs,forpractice?”
“No.Thanks,allthesame.”
“Then,justhugitthebear,Lin.”
“Sorry.”
“Oh,pleeeeeeese,”Prabakerwheedled.
“No.”
“Yes,Lin,pleasehugitthebear,”Prabakerencouraged,askingforsupportfromthecrowd.Therewerehundredsofpeoplecrammedintothelanesnearmyhouse.Childrenhadfoundprecariousvantagepointsontopofsomeofthesturdierhuts
“Doit,doit,do_it!”theywailedandshouted.
Lookingaroundme,fromfacetolaughingface,IrealisedthatIdidn’thaveanychoice.Itookthetwosteps,reachedouttremulously,andslowlypressedmyselfagainsttheshaggyfurofKanothebear.Hewassurprisinglysoftunderthefur-almostpudgy.Thethickforelegswereallmuscle,however,andtheyclosedaroundmeatshoulderheightwithamassivepower,anonhumanstrength.Iknewwhatitwastofeelutterlyhelpless.
Onefright-driventhoughtspunthroughmymind-KanocouldsnapmybackaseasilyasIcouldsnapapencil.Thebear’svoicegrumbledinhischestagainstmyear.Asmelllikewetmossfilledmynostrils.Mixedwithitwasasmelllikenewleathershoes,andthesmellofachild’swoollenblanket.Beyondthat,therewasapiercingammoniacsmell,likebonebeingcutwithasaw.Thenoiseofthecrowdfaded.Kanowaswarm.Kanomovedfromsidetoside.Thefur,inthegraspofmyfingers,wassoft,andattachedtorollsofskinlikethatonthebackofadog’sneck.Iclungtothefur,androckedwithhim.Initsbrawnygrip,itseemedtomethatIwasfloating,orperhapsfalling,fromsomeexaltedplaceofinexpressiblepeaceandpromise.
Handsshookmyshoulders,andIopenedmyeyestoseethatI’dfallentomyknees.Kanothebearhadreleasedmefromthehug,andwasalreadyattheendoftheshortlane,lumberingawaywithhisslow,thumpingtreadinthecompanyofhishandlersandtheretinueofpeopleandmaddeneddogs.
“Linbaba,areyouallright?”
“I’mfine,fine.Musthave…Igotdizzy,orsomething.”
“Kanowasgivingyoutheprettygoodsqueezes,yes?Here,thisisyourmessage.”
Iwentbacktomyhutandsatatthesmalltablemadefrompackingcrates.Insidethecrumpledenvelopewasatypednoteonmatchingyellowpaper.ItwastypedinEnglish,andIsuspectedthatithadbeentypedbyoneoftheprofessionalletter-writersontheStreetoftheWriters.ItwasfromAbdullah.
MyDearBrother,Salaamaleikum.Youtoldmethatyouaregivingthebearhugstothepeople.IthinkthisisacustominyourcountryandevenifIthinkitisverystrangeandevenifIdonotunderstand,IthinkyoumustbelonelyforitherebecauseinBombaywehaveashortageofbears.SoIsendyouabearforsomehugging.Pleaseenjoy.Ihopeheislikethehuggingbearsinyourcountry.IambusywithbusinessandIamhealthy,thanksbetoGod.AftermybusinessIwillreturntoBombaysoon,Inshallah.Godblessyouandyourbrother.
AbdullahTaheriPrabakerwasstandingatmyleftshoulder,readingthenoteoutaloud,slowly.
“Aha,thisistheAbdullah,whoIamnotsupposedtobetellingyouthatheisdoingallthebadthings,butreallyheis,evenatthesametimethatIamnottellingyou…thatheis.”
“It’srudetoreadotherpeople’smail,Prabu.”
“Isrude,yes.Rudemeansthatweliketodoit,evenwhenpeopletellusnotto,yes?”
“Whoarethosebearguys?”Iaskedhim.“Wherearetheystaying?”
“Theyaremakingmoneywiththedancingbear.TheyareoriginalfromUP.,UttarPradesh,inthenorthofthis,ourMotherIndia,buttravellingeverywhere.NowtheyarestayingatthezhopadpattiinNavyNagararea.Doyouwantmetotakeyouthere?”
“No,”Imuttered,readingthenoteoveragain.“No,notnow.
Maybelater.”
Prabakerwenttotheopendoorofthehutandpausedthere,staringatmereflectivelywithhissmall,roundheadcockedtooneside.Iputthenoteinmypocket,andlookedupathim.Ithoughthewantedtosaysomething-therewasalittlestruggleofconcentrationinhisbrow-butthenheseemedtochangehismind.Heshrugged.Hesmiled.
“Somesickpeoplesarecomingtoday?”
“Afew.Ithink.Later.”
“Well,Iwillbeseeingyouatthelunchparty,yes?”
“Sure.”
“Doyou…doyouwantme,fortodoanything?”
“No.Thanks.”
“Doyouwantmyneighbour,hiswife,towashityourshirt?”
“Washmyshirt?”
“Yes.Itissmellinglikebears.Youaresmellinglikebears,Linbaba.”
“It’sokay,”Ilaughed.“Ikindalikeit.”
“Well,I’mgoingnow.I’mgoingtodrivemycousinShantu’staxi.”
“Okaythen.”
“Allright.I’mgoingnow.”
Hewalkedout,andwhenIwasaloneagainthesoundsoftheslumswarmedaroundme:hawkersselling,childrenplaying,womenlaughing,andlovesongsblaringfromradiosrunningonmaximumdistortion.Therewerealsoanimalsounds,hundredsofthem.Withonlydaystogobeforethebigrain,manyitinerantsandentertainers,likethetwobear-handlers,hadsoughtshelterinslumsthroughoutthecity.Ourswashosttothreegroupsofsnakecharmers,ateamofmonkeymen,andnumerousbreedersofparrotsandsingingbirds.ThemenwhousuallytetheredhorsesinopengroundneartheNavybarracksbroughttheirmountstoourmakeshiftstables.Goatsandsheepandpigs,chickensandbullocksandwaterbuffalo,evenacamelandanelephant-theacresoftheslumhadbecomeakindofsprawlingark,providingsanctuaryfromthecomingfloods.
Theanimalswerewelcome,andno’-onequestionedtheirrighttoshelter,buttheirpresencedidposenewproblems.Onthefirstnightoftheirstay,themonkeymenallowedoneoftheiranimalstoescapewhileeveryonewasasleep.Themischievouscreaturescamperedoverthetopsofseveralhutsandlowereditselfintothehutusedbyonegroupofsnakecharmers.Thesnakemenhousedtheircobrasincoveredwickerbasketswhichweresecuredwithabambooslip-catchandastoneplacedontopofeachcover.Themonkeyremovedoneofthestones,andopenedabasketcontainingthreecobras.Fromasafevantagepointatthetopofthehut,themonkeyshriekedthesnakemenawake,andtheysoundedthealarm.
“Saapalla!Saapalla!Saap!”Snakesarecoming!Snakes!
Therewaspandemonium,then,assleepyslum-dwellersrushedaboutwithkerosenelanternsandflamingtorches,strikingateveryshadow,andbeatingeachotheronthefeetandshinswithsticksandpoles.Afewoftheflimsierhutswereknockedoverinthestampede.QasimAlifinallyrestoredorder,andorganisedthesnakemenintotwosearchpartiesthatcombedtheslumsystematicallyuntiltheyfoundthecobrasandreturnedthemtotheirbasket.
Amongtheirmanyotherskills,themonkeyshadalsobeentrainedtobeexcellentthieves.Likemostoftheslumsthroughoutthecity,ourswasastealing-freezone.Withnolocksonanyofthedoors,andnosecretplacesforanyofustohidethings,themonkeyswereinapilferer’sparadise.Eachday,theembarrassedmonkeymenwereforcedtosetupatableoutsidetheirhutwherealltheitemstheirmonkeyshadstolencouldbedisplayed,andreclaimedbytherightfulowners.Themonkeysshowedamarkedpreferencefortheglassbanglesandbrassankletsorbraceletswornbymostofthelittlegirls.Evenafterthemonkeymenboughtthemtheirownsupplyofthebaubles,andfestoonedtheirhairyarmsandlegswiththem,themonkeysstillfoundthetheftofsuchjewelleryirresistible.
QasimAlidecidedatlasttohavenoisybellsputonallthemonkeyswhiletheywerewithintheslum.Thecreaturesdisplayedaninventiveresourcefulnessindivestingthemselvesofthebellsorinsmotheringthem.Ioncesawtwomonkeysstalkingalongthedesertedlaneoutsidemyhut,atdusk,theireyeshugewithsimianguiltandmischief.Oneofthemhadsucceededinremovingthebellsfromarounditsneck.Itwalkedonitshindlegs,intandemwiththeotherape,mufflingthenoiseoftheother’sbellsbyholdingontothemwithbothtinyhands.Despitetheiringenuity,thebellmusicdidmaketheirusuallynoiselesscaperingmoredetectable,reducingtheirsmallfeloniesandtheshameoftheirhandlers.
Alongwiththoseitinerants,manyofthepeoplewholivedonthestreetsnearourslumweredrawntotherelativesecurityofourhuts.Knownaspavementdwellers,theywerepeoplewhomadehomesforthemselvesoneveryavailablestripofunusedlandandanyfootpathwideenoughtosupporttheirflimsyshelters,whilestillpermittingpedestriantraffic.Theirhouseswerethemostprimitive,andtheconditionsunderwhichtheylivedthemostharshandbrutalising,ofallthemillionsofhomelesspeopleinBombay.Whenthemonsoonstruck,theirpositionwasalwaysdangerousandsometimesuntenable,andmanyofthemsoughtrefugeintheslums.
TheywerefromeverypartofIndia:AssameseandTamils,KarnatakansandGujaratis,peoplefromTrivandrum,Bikaner,andKonarak.Duringthemonsoon,fivethousandofthoseextrasoulssqueezedthemselvesintothealreadyover-crowdedslum.Withsubtractionsforthespacetakenupbyanimalpens,shops,storageareas,streets,lanes,andlatrines,thatallowedsometwosquaremetresforeachman,woman,andchildamongus.
Thegreater-than-usualcrowdingcausedsometensionsandadditionaldifficulties,butinthemainthenewcomersweretreatedtolerantly.Ineverheardanyonesuggestthattheyshouldn’thavebeenhelpedormadewelcome.Theonlyseriousproblems,infact,camefromoutsidetheslum.Thosefivethousandextrapeople,andthemanythousandswho’dflockedtootherslumsasthemonsoonapproached,hadbeenlivingonthestreets.They’dalldonetheirshopping,suchasitwas,inshopsthroughoutthearea.Theirpurchaseswereindividuallysmall-eggs,milk,tea,bread,cigarettes,vegetables,kerosene,children’sclothes,andsoon.Collectively,theyaccountedforlargeamountsofmoneyandaconsiderableportionofthetradeforlocalshops.Whentheymovedtotheslums,however,thenewcomerstendedtospendtheirmoneyatthedozensoftinyshopswithintheslums.Thesmall,illegalbusinessessuppliedalmosteverythingthatcouldbeboughtinthelegalshopsofthewell-establishedshoppingdistricts.Therewereshopsthatsuppliedfood,clothing,oils,pulses,kerosene,alcohol,hashish,andevenelectricalappliances.Theslumwaslargelyself-contained,andJohnnyCigar-amoneyandtaxadvisertotheslumbusinesses-estimatedthattheslum-dwellersspenttwentyrupeeswithintheslumforeveryonerupeetheyspentoutsideit.
Shopkeepersandsmallbusinessmeneverywhereresentedthatattritionoftheirsalesandthesuccessofthethrivingslumshops.Whenthethreatofrainpulledeventhepavementdwellersintotheslums,theirresentmentturnedtorage.Theyjoinedforceswithlocallandlords,propertydevelopers,andotherswhofearedandopposedtheexpansionoftheslums.Poolingtheirresources,theyrecruitedtwogangsofthugsfromareasoutsideColaba,andpaidthemtoattackthesupplylinestoslumshops.
Thosereturningfromthelargemarketswithcartloadsofvegetablesorfishordrygoodsforshopsintheslumwereharassed,hadtheirgoodsspoiled,andweresometimesevenassaulted.
“I’dtreatedseveralchildrenandyoungmenwho’dbeenattackedbythosegangs.There’dbeenthreatsthatacidwouldbethrown.
Unabletoappealtothepoliceforhelp-thecopshadbeenpaidtomaintainadiscreetmyopia-theslum-dwellersbandedtogethertodefendthemselves.QasimAliformedbrigadesofchildrenwhopatrolledtheperimeteroftheslumaslookouts,andseveralplatoonsofstrong,youngmentoescortthosewhovisitedthemarkets.
Clasheshadalreadyoccurredbetweenouryoungmenandthehiredthugs.Weallknewthat,whenthemonsooncame,therewouldbemoreandgreaterviolence.Tensionsranhigh.Still,thewaroftheshopkeepersdidn’tdispirittheslum-dwellers.Onthecontrary,theshopkeeperswithintheslumexperiencedasurgeofpopularity.Theybecamedemi-heroes,andweremovedtorespondwithspecialsales,reducedprices,andacarnivalatmosphere.
Theghettowasalivingorganism:tocounterexternalthreats,itrespondedwiththeantibodiesofcourage,solidarity,andthatdesperate,magnificentloveweusuallycallthesurvivalinstinct.Iftheslumfailed,therewasnowhereandnothingelse.
Oneoftheyoungmenwho’dbeeninjuredinanattackonoursupplylineswasalaborerontheconstructionsitebesidetheslum.HisnamewasNaresh.Hewasnineteenyearsold.Itwashisvoice,andaconfidentrappingontheopendoorofmyhut,whichscatteredthebrief,stillsolitudethatI’dfoundwhenmyfriendsandneighbourshadfollowedKanoandhisbear-handlersfromtheslum.
Withoutwaitingformetoreply,Nareshsteppedintothehutandgreetedme.
“Hello,Linbaba,”hegreetedme,inEnglish.“Youhavebeenhuggingitbears,everyonesays.”
“Hello,Naresh.How’syourarm?Youwantmetotakealookatit?”
“Ifyouhavetime,yes,”heanswered,switchingtoMarathi,hisnativetongue.“Itookabreakfromwork,andIhavetoreturninfifteenortwentyminutes.Icancomebackanothertimeifyouarebusy.”
“No,nowisokay.Comeandsitdown,andwe’llhavealook.”
Nareshhadbeenslashedontheupperarmwithabarber’sstraightrazor.Thecutwasn’tdeep,anditshould’vehealedquicklywithnomorethanawrapofbandage.Theuncleanhumidityofhisworkingconditions,however,acceleratedtheriskofinfection.
ThebandageI’dplacedonhisarmjusttwodaysbeforewasfilthyandsoakedwithsweat.Iremovedit,andstoredthesoileddressinginaplasticbagfordisposallaterinoneofthecommunalfires.
Thewoundwasbeginningtoknitwellenough,butitwasanangryred,withsomeflaresofyellowish-white.Khaderbhai’slepershadsuppliedmewithaten-litrecontainerofsurgicaldisinfectant.
Iusedittowashmyhandsandthencleansedthewound,roughlyscrapingatituntiltherewasnotraceofthewhiteinfection.
Itmust’vebeentender,butNareshenduredthepainexpressionlessly.Whenitwasdry,Isqueezedantibioticpowderintothecreaseofthecutandappliedafreshgauzedressingandbandage.
“Prabakertellsmeyouhadanarrowescapefromthepolicetheothernight,Naresh,”IsaidasIworked,stumblingalonginmybrokenMarathi.
“Prabakerhasadisappointinghabitoftellingeverybodythetruth,”Nareshfrowned.
“You’retellingme,”Iansweredquickly,andwebothlaughed.
LikemostoftheMaharashtrians,NareshwashappythatItriedtolearnhislanguage,andlikemostofthemhespokeslowlyandveryprecisely,encouragingmetounderstand.TherewerenoparallelsbetweenMarathiandEnglish,itseemedtome:noneofthesimilaritiesandfamil-iarwordsthatweresharedbyEnglishandGerman,forexample,orEnglishandItalian.YetMarathiwasaneasylanguagetolearnbecausethepeopleofMaharashtrawerethrilledthatIwantedtolearnit,andtheywereveryeagertoteach.
“IfyoukeepstealingwithAseefandhisgang,”Isaid,moreseriously,“you’regoingtogetcaught.”
“Iknowthat,butIhopenot.IhopetheEnlightenedOneisonmyside.It’sformysister.Ipraythatnoharmwillcometome,yousee,becauseIamnotstealingformyself,butformysister.
Shewillbemarriedsoon,andthereisnotenoughtopaythepromiseddowry.Itismyresponsibility.Iamtheoldestson.”
Nareshwasbrave,intelligent,hardworking,andkindwiththeyoungchildren.Hishutwasn’tmuchbiggerthanmyown,butheshareditwithhisparents,andsixbrothersandsisters.Hesleptoutsideontheroughgroundtoleavemorespacefortheyoungeronesinside.I’dvisitedhishutseveraltimes,andIknewthateverythingheownedintheworldwascontainedinoneplasticshoppingbag:achangeofroughclothes,onepairofgoodtrousersandashirtforformaloccasionsandforvisitingthetemple,abookofBuddhistverses,severalphotographs,andafewtoiletries.Heownednothingelse.Hegaveeveryrupeethatheearnedfromhisjobormadefrompettytheftstohismother,askingherforsmallchangeinreturnasherequiredit.Hedidn’tdrinkorsmokeorgamble.Asapoormanwithnoimmediateprospects,hehadnogirlfriendandonlyaslenderchanceofwinningone.Theoneentertainmentheallowedhimselfwasatriptothecheapestcinema,withhisworkmates,onceaweek.Yethewasacheerful,optimisticyoungman.Sometimes,whenIcamehomethroughtheslumlateatnight,Isawhimcurleduponthepath,outsidethefamilyhut,histhinyoungfaceslackenedinsleep’sexhaustedsmile.
“Andyou,Naresh?”Iasked,fasteningthebandagewithasafetypin.“Whenwillyougetmarried?”
Hestood,flexinghisslenderarmtoloosenthetightbandage.
“AfterPoonamismarried,therearetwoothersisterswhomustbemarried,”heexplained,smilingandwagginghisheadfromsidetoside.“Theymustbefirst.Inthis,ourBombay,thepoormanmustlookforhusbandsbeforehelooksforawife.Crazy,isn’tit?
AmchiMumbai,Mumbaiamchi!”It’sourBombay,andBombayis_ours!
Hewentoutwithoutthankingme,aswasusualwiththepeopleItreatedatmyhut.Iknewthathewouldinvitemetodinnerathishouseonedaysoon,orbringmeagiftoffruitorspecialincense.Thepeopleshowedthanks,ratherthansayingit,andI’dcometoacceptthat.
WhenNareshemergedfrommyhutwithacleanbandage,severalpeoplewhosawhimapproachedmefortreatment.Iattendedtothemonebyone-ratbites,fever,infectedrashes,ringworm-chattingwitheach,andcatchinguponthegossipthatconstantlyswirledthroughthelanesandgulliesliketheubiquitousdustdevils
Thelastofthosepatientswasanelderlywomanaccompaniedbyherniece.Shecomplainedofpainsinherchest,ontheleftside,buttheextremesofIndianmodestymadeexaminationacomplexprocedure.Iaskedthegirltosummonotherstohelp.Twooftheniece’syoungfriendsjoinedherinmyhut.Thefriendsheldasheetofthickclothupbetweentheelderlywomanandmyself,completelyobscuringherfrommyview.Thegirlwasstandingbesideherauntinapositionwhereshecouldlookovertheblanketandseemesittingontheotherside.Then,asItouchedmyownchesthereandthere,theyoungnieceimitatedmebytouchingheraunt’sbreast.
“Doesithurthere?”Iasked,probingmyownchestabovethenipple.
Behindthescreen,thenieceprobedatheraunt’sbreast,askingmyquestion.
“No.”
“Howabouthere?”
“No,notthere.”
“Whatabouthere?”
“Yes.Thereitishurting,”sheanswered.
“Andhere?Orhere?”
“No,notthere.Alittlebithere.”
Withthatpantomime,andthroughtheinvisiblehandsofherniece,Ifinallyestablishedthattheelderlywomanhadtwopainfullumpsinherbreast.Ialsolearnedthatsheexperiencedsomepainwithdeepbreaths,andwhenliftingheavyobjects.IwroteanoteforDoctorHamid,detailingmysecond-handobservationsandmyconclusions.I’djustfinishedexplainingtothegirlthatsheshouldtakeheraunttoDoctorHamid’ssurgeryatonce,andgivehimmynote,whenavoicespokebehindme.
“Youknow,povertylooksgoodonyou.Ifyouevergotreallydownandout,youmightbeirresistible.”IturnedinsurprisetoseeKarlaleaninginthedoorwaywithherarmsfolded.Anironichalf-smileturnedupthecornersofhermouth.Shewasdressedingreen-loosesilktrousersandalongsleevedtop,withashawlofdarkergreen.Herblackhairwasfree,andburnishedwithcoppertintsbythesun.Thegreenofwarm,shallowwaterinadreamedlagoonblazedinhereyes.Shewasalmosttoobeautiful:asbeautifulasablushofsummersunsetonasky-widestreamofcloud.
“Howlonghaveyoubeenthere?”Iasked,laughing.
“Longenoughtoseethisweirdfaith-healingsystemofyoursinoperation.Areyoucuringpeoplebytelepathynow?”
“Indianwomenareveryobstinatewhenitcomestohavingtheirbreastshandledbystrangers,”IrepliedwhenthepatientandherrelativeshadfiledpastKarla,andleftthehut.
“Nobody’sperfect,asDidierwouldsay,”shedrawled,withasmirkthatflutteredjustshortofasmile.“Hemissesyou,bytheway.Heaskedmetosayhellotoyou.Infact,theyallmissyou.Wehaven’tseenmuchofyouatLeopold’s,sinceyoustartedthisRedCrossroutine.”
IwasgladthatDidierandtheothershadn’tforgottenme,butIdidn’tlookherintheeye.WhenIwasalone,Ifeltsafeandsatisfyinglybusyintheslum.WheneverIsawfriendsfrombeyondthosesprawlingacres,apartofmeshrivelledinshame.Fearandguiltarethedarkangelsthathauntrichmen,Khadersaidtomeonce.Iwasn’tsureifthatwastrue,orifhesimplywantedittobetrue,butIdidknowfromexperiencethatdespairandhumiliationhauntthepoor.
“Comein,comein.Thisisarealsurprise.Sit…sithere,whileIjust…cleanupabit.”
ShecameoverandsatonthewoodenstoolasIgatheredaplasticbagcontainingusedswabsandbandages,andsweptthelastofthelitterintoit.Iwashedmyhandswithspiritoncemore,andpackedthemedicinesintothelittlerackofshelves.
Shelookedaroundthesmallhut,examiningeverythingwithacriticaleye.Asmygazefollowedhers,Isawmylittlehousefortheshabby,threadbarehovelthatitreallywas.BecauseIlivedaloneinthehut,I’dcometothinkofitasluxuriouslyspacious,incontrasttothecrowdingthatwaseverywherearoundme.Withherbesideme,itseemedmeanandcramped.
Thebareearthfloorwascracked,andformedinlumpyundulations.Holesasbigasmyfistpuncturedeverywall,exposingmylifetothebrawlandbusinessofthebustlinglaneoutside.ChildrenpeepedinthroughtheholesatKarlaandme,emphasisinghowunprivatemylifetherewas.Thereedmattingoftheroofsagged,andhadevengivenwayinafewplaces.Mykitchenconsistedofasingle-burnerkerosenestove,twocups,twometalplates,aknife,afork,aspoon,andafewcontainersofspices.Thewholeofitfittedintoacardboardbox,andwasstoredinonecorner.
Iwasinthehabitofbuyingonlyenoughforasinglemealatatime,sotherewasnofood.Thewaterwasstoredinanearthenwarematka.Itwasslumwater.Icouldn’tofferittoherbecauseIknewKarlacouldn’tdrinkit.Myonlyfurniturewasacupboardformedicines,asmalltable,achair,andawoodenstool.IrememberedhowdelightedI’dbeenwhenthosesticksoffurnitureweregiventome;howraretheywereintheslum.Withhereyes,Isawthecracksinthewood,thestainsofmildew,therepairsmadewithwireandstring.
Ilookedbacktowhereshesatonthestool,lightingacigaretteandblowingthesmokeoutthroughthesideofhermouth.Arushofirrationalresentmentseizedme.Iwasalmostangrythatshe’dmademeseetheunlovelytruthofmyhouse.
“It’s…it’snotmuch.I…”
“It’sfine,”shesaid,readingmyheart.“IlivedinalittlehutlikethisinGoaforayearonce.AndIwashappy.Thereisn’tadaygoesbywhenIdon’tfeellikegoingbackthere.Isometimesthinkthatthesizeofourhappinessisinverselyproportionaltothesizeofourhouse.”
Sheraisedherlefteyebrowinahigharchasshesaidit,challengingmetorespondandmeetheronherlevel,andwiththatgestureitwasallrightbetweenus.Iwasn’tresentfulanymore.Iknew,Iwascertainsomehow,thatwantingmylittlehousetobebiggerorbrighterorgranderthanitwashadbeeninmymind,nothers.Shewasn’tjudging.Shewasonlylooking,seeingeverything,evenwhatIfelt.
Myneighbour’stwelve-year-oldson,Satish,cameintothehut,carryinghistiny,two-year-oldcousinonhiship.HestoodclosetoKarla,staringunselfconsciously.Shestaredbackathimjustasintently,andIwasstruckbyhowsimilartheywereinthatinstant,theIndianboyandtheEuropeanwoman.Bothhadfulllipped,expressivemouths,andhairthatwasnight-skyblack;andalthoughKarla’seyesweresea-greenandtheboy’sweredarkbronze,eachpairworethesamegraveexpressionfullofinterestandhumour.
“Satish,chaibono,”Isaidtohim.Makesometea.
Hegavemeaquicksmile,andhurriedout.Karlawasthefirstforeignmisshe’deverseenintheslum,sofarasIknew.Hewasexcitedtohavethetaskofservingher.Iknewhewouldtalkaboutittotheotherkidsforweeksafterwards.
“So,tellme,howdidyoufindme?Howdidyouevengetinhere?”
Iaskedherwhenwewerealone.
“Getin?”shefrowned.“It’snotillegaltovisityou,isit?”
“No,”Ilaughed,“butit’snotcommoneither.Idon’tgetmanyvisitorshere.”
“Actually,itwaseasy.Ijuststeppedoffthestreetandaskedpeopletotakemetoyou.”
“Andtheybroughtyouhere?”
“Notexactly.They’reveryprotectiveofyou,youknow.Theytookmetoyourfriend,Prabaker,first,andhebroughtmetoyou.”
“Prabaker?”
“Yes,Lin,youwantme?”Prabakersaid,poppingthroughthedoorwayfromhiseavesdroppingpostoutside.
“Ithoughtyouweregoingtodriveyourtaxi,”Imuttered,adoptingthesternexpressionthatIknewamusedhimthemost.
“MycousinShantu’staxi,”hesaid,grinning.“Wasdriving,yes,butnowmyothercousin,Prakash,heisdriving,whileIamtakingitmytwohoursoflunchbreaks.IwasatJohnnyCigar,hishouse,whensomepeoplecametherewithMissKarla.Shewantstoseeyou,andIcamehere.Itisverygood,yes?”
“It’sgood,Prabu,”Isighed.
Satishreturned,carryingatraywiththreecupsofhot,sweettea.Hehandedthemtous,andtoreopenasmallpacketcontainingfourParleGlucobiscuits,whichhepresentedtouswithasolemnsenseofceremony.Iexpectedhimtoeatthefourthbiscuithimself,butheplaceditonhispalminstead,markeditoffintoevensectionswithhisgrubbythumbnail,andthenbrokeitintotwopieces.Measuringthefragmentsagainstoneanother,hepickedtheonethatwasminutelylargerandhandedittoKarla.Theotherwenttohisbabycousin,whosatinthedoorwayofthehutandnibbledatthebiscuithappily.
Iwassittingonthestraight-backedchair,andSatishcameovertosquatonthefloorbesidemyfeet.Herestedhisshoulderagainstmyknee.IwasbigenoughtoknowthattherareshowofaffectionwasabreakthroughwithSatish.AtthesametimeIwassmallenoughtohopethatKarlahadnoticedit,andwasimpressedbyit.
Wefinishedthetea,andSatishgatheredtheemptycups,leavingthehutwithoutaword.Atthedoor,hegaveKarlaalong-lashed,lingeringsmileashetookhiscousin’shandtoleadheraway.
“He’sanicekid,”sheremarked.
“Heis.Mynext-doorneighbour’sson.Youreallysparkedsomethinginhimtoday.He’snormallyveryshy.So,whatbringsyoutomyhumblehome,anyway?”
“Oh,Ijusthappenedtobeinthearea,”shesaidnonchalantly,lookingatthegapsinmywall,whereadozenlittlefacesstaredinatus.Thevoicesofotherchildrencouldbeheard,questioningSatishabouther.Whoisshe?IssheLinbaba’swife?
“Passingby,huh?Itcouldn’tbe,maybe,thatyoumissedme,justalittlebit?”
“Heydon’tpushyourluck,”shemocked.
“Ican’thelpit.It’sageneticthing.Icomefromalonglineofluck-pushers.Don’ttakeitpersonally.”
“Itakeeverythingpersonally-that’swhatbeingapersonisallabout.AndI’lltakeyoutolunch,ifyou’refinishedwithyourpatients.”
“Well,Ihavealunchdate,actually-”
“Oh.Okay,then-”
“No,no.You’rewelcometocome,ifyoulike.It’skindofanopeninvitation.We’rehavingacelebrationlunchtoday,righthere.I’dbeveryhappyifyou’d…beourguest.Ithinkyou’lllikeit.Tellhershe’lllikeit,Prabu.”
“Wewillhaveitaverynicelunches!”Prabakersaid.“Mygoodself,Ihavekeptitacompleteemptystomachforfillinguptofat.Sogoodisthefood.Youwillenjoysomuch,thepeoplewillthinkyouarehavingababyinsideyourdress.”
“Okay,”shesaidslowly,andthenlookedatme.“He’sapersuasiveguy,yourPrabaker.”
“Youshouldmeethisfather,”Ireplied,shakingmyheadinaresignedshrug.
Prabaker’schestswelledwithpride,andhewaggedhisheadhappily.“So,wherearewegoing?”
“It’sattheVillageintheSky,”Itoldher.
“Idon’tthinkI’veheardofit,”shesaid,frowning.
PrabakerandIlaughed,andthevaguelysuspiciousfurrowsinherbrowdeepened.
“No,youwon’thaveheardofit,butIthinkyou’lllikeit.
Listen,yougoonaheadwithPrabaker.I’llwashup,andchangemyshirt.I’lljustbeacoupleofminutes,okay?”
“Fine,”shesaid.
Oureyesmet,andheld.Forsomereason,shelingered,watchingmeexpectantly.Icouldn’tunderstandtheexpression,andIwasstilltryingtoreaditwhenshesteppedclosetomeandquicklykissedmylips.Itwasafriendlykiss,impulsiveandgenerousandlight-hearted,butIletmyselfbelievethatitwasmore.ShewalkedoutwithPrabaker,andIspunaroundononefoot,whisperingashoutofjoywhileIdidanexcitedlittledance.Ilookeduptoseethechildrenpeeringthroughtheholesinthehutandgigglingatme.Imadeascaryfaceatthem,andtheylaughedharder,breakingintolittlewhirlingparodiesofmydance.Twominuteslater,IlopedthroughtheslumlanesafterPrabakerandKarla,tuckingmycleanshirtintomypantsasIran,andshakingthewaterfrommyhair.
Ourslum,likemanyothersinBombay,cameintobeingtoservetheneedsofaconstructionsite-twothirty-five-floorbuildings,theWorldTradeCentretowers,beingbuiltontheshoreoftheColabaBackBay.Thetradesmen,artisans,andlabourerswhobuiltthetowerswerehousedinhutments,tinyslum-dwellings,onlandadjacenttothesite.Thecompaniesthatplannedandconstructedlargebuildings,inthoseyears,wereforcedtoprovidesuchlandforhousing.Manyofthetradesmenwereitinerantworkerswhofollowedwheretheirskillswereneeded,andwhoserealhomeswerehundredsofkilometresawayinotherstates.MostoftheworkerswhowerenativetoBombaysimplyhadnohomes,otherthanthosetheyfoundwiththeirjobs.
Infact,manymenacceptedtherisksofthathardanddangerousworkfornootherreasonthantogainthesecurityofoneofthoseshelters.
Thecompanieswerehappyenoughtocomplywiththelawsthatmadelandandhutsavailablebecausethearrangementwaseminentlysuitabletotheminotherways.Thekinshipfosteredinworkers’slumsguaranteedasenseofunity,familialsolidarity,andloyaltytothecompany,whichservedemployerswell.Travellingtimetoandfromworkwaseliminatedwhenmenlivedonthesite.Thewives,children,andotherdependantsofemployedworkersprovidedareadysourceofadditionallabourers.Theywerehiredfromthatpoolandputtowork,fromdaytoday,atamoment’snotice.Andtheentireworkforceofseveralthousandpeopleweremuchmoreeasilyinfluenced,andtosomeextentevencontrolled,whentheylivedinasinglecommunity.
WhentheWorldTradeCentretowerswerefirstplanned,alargeareawassetasideandmarkedoffintomorethanthreehundredhut-sizedplots.Asworkerssignedon,theyreceivedoneoftheplotsandasumofmoneywithwhichtobuybamboopoles,reedmatting,hemprope,andscraptimber.Eachmanthenbuilthisownhouse,assistedbyfamilyandfriends.Thesprawloffragilehutsspreadoutwardlikeashallow,tenderroot-systemforthehugetowersthatweretocome.Vastundergroundwellsweresunktoprovidewaterforthecommunity.Rudimentarylanesandpathwayswerescrapedflat.Finally,atall,barbedwirefencewaserectedaroundtheperimetertokeepoutsquatters.Thelegalslumwasborn.
Drawnbytheregularwagesthatthoseworkershadtospend,andnolessbytheplentifulsupplyoffreshwater,squatterssoonarrivedandsettledoutsidethefence-line.Entrepreneursestablishingchaishopsandsmallgrocerystoreswerethefirst,attachingtheirtinyshopstothefence.Workersfromthelegalcompoundstoopedtocrouchthroughgapsinthewire,andspendtheirmoney.Vegetableshopsandtailorshopsandlittlerestaurantswerenext.Gamblingdensandotherdensforthesaleofalcoholorcharrassoonfollowed.Eachnewbusinessclungtothefenceofthecompounduntilatlasttherewasnospaceleftonthefence-line.Theillegalslumthenbegantogrowoutwardintothesurroundingacresofopenlandleadingtothesea.
Homelesspeoplejoinedinever-largernumbers,pickingoutsquaresfortheirhuts.Newholeswerestretchedinthefence.
Squattersusedthemtoenterthelegalslumtocollectwater,andworkersusedthemtomakepurchasesintheillegalslum,orvisitnewfriends.
Thesquatters’slumgrewrapidly,butwithahaphazard,needsdrivenplanlessnessthatwasadisorderlycontrasttotheneaterlanesoftheworkers’slum.Intimetherewereeightsquattersforeverypersonintheworkers’compound,morethantwenty-fivethousandpeopleinall,andthedivisionbetweenlegalandillegalslumsbecameblurred,camouflagedbythecrowding.AlthoughtheBombayMunicipalCorporationcondemnedtheillegalslum,andconstructioncompanyofficersdiscouragedcontactbetweenworkersandsquatters,thepeoplethoughtofthemselvesasonegroup;theirdaysanddreamsanddriveswereentangledintheravelofghettolife.Toworkersandsquattersalike,thecompanyfencewaslikeallfences:arbitraryandirrelevant.Someoftheworkerswhoweren’tpermittedtobringmorethanimmediatefamilyintothelegalsluminvitedtheirrelativestosquatnearthem,beyondthewire.Friendshipsflourishedamongthechildrenofbothsides,andmarriagesofloveorarrangementwerecommon.
Celebrationsononesideofthewirewerewellattendedbyresidentsfrombothsides.Andbecausefires,floods,andepidemicsdidn’trecognisebarbed-wireboundaries,emergenciesinonepartoftheslumrequiredthecloseco-operationofall.
Karla,Prabaker,andIbentlowtostepthroughanopeninginasectionoffence,andwepassedintothelegalslum.Acoveyofchildrentroopedalongbesideus,dressedinfreshlywashedT-shirtsanddresses.TheyallknewPrabakerandmewell.I’dtreatedmanyoftheyoungchildren,cleaningandbandagingcuts,abrasions,andratbites.Andmorethanafewoftheworkers,afraidthattheymightbestooddownfromworkwhentheyreceivedminorinjuriesontheconstructionsite,hadvisitedmyfreeclinicratherthanthecompany’sfirst-aidofficer.
“Youknoweverybodyhere,”Karlaremarkedaswewerestoppedforthefifthtimebyagroupofneighbours.“Areyourunningformayorofthisplace,orwhat?”
“Hell,no.Ican’tstandpoliticians.Apoliticianissomeonewhopromisesyouabridge,evenwhenthere’snoriver.”
“That’snotbad,”shemurmured.Hereyeswerelaughing.
“IwishIcouldsayitwasmine,”Igrinned.“AnactornamedAmitabhsaidit.”
“AmitabhBachchan?”sheasked.“TheBigBhimself?”
“Yeah-doyoulikeBollywoodmovies?”
“Sure,whynot?”
“Idon’tknow,”Ianswered,shakingmyhead.“Ijustdidn’t…thinkyouwould.”
Therewasapause,then,thatbecameanawkwardsilence.Shewasfirsttospeak.
“Butyoudoknowalotofpeoplehere,andtheylikeyoualot.”
Ifrowned,genuinelysurprisedbythesuggestion.Itneveroccurredtomethatthepeopleintheslummightlikeme.Iknewthatsomemen-Prabaker,JohnnyCigar,evenQasimAliHussein-regardedmeasafriend.Iknewthatsomeotherstreatedmewitharespectthatseemedhonestandunfeigned.ButIdidn’tconsiderthefriendshiportherespectasanypartofbeingliked.
“Thisisaspecialday,”Isaid,smilingandtryingtoshiftground.“Thepeoplehavebeentryingforyearstogettheirownprimaryschool.They’vegotabouteighthundredschool-agekids,buttheschoolsformilesaroundarefull,andcan’ttakethem.
Thepeoplegottheirownteachersorganised,andfoundagoodspotforaschool,buttheauthoritiesstillputupahellofafight.”
“Becauseit’saslum…”
“Yeah.They’reafraidthataschoolwouldgivetheplaceakindoflegitimacy.Intheory,theslumdoesn’texist,becauseit’snotlegalandnotrecognised.”
“Wearethenot-people,”Prabakersaidhappily,“Andthesearethenot-houses,wherewearenot-living.”
“Andnowwehaveanot-schooltogowithit,”Iconcludedforhim.“Themunicipalityfinallyagreedtoakindofcompromise.
Theyallowedthemtosetupatemporaryschoolnearhere,andthere’llbeanotheroneorganisedsoon.Butthey’llhavetotearthemdownwhentheconstructionisfinished.”
“Whenwillthatbe?”
“Well,they’vebeenbuildingthesetowersforfiveyearsalready,andthere’sprobablyaboutthreemoreyears’workinit,maybemore.No-one’sreallysurewhat’llhappenwhenthebuildingsarefinished.Intheory,atleast,theslumwillbecleared.”
“Thenallthiswillbegone?”Karlaasked,turningtosweepthehutmentcitywithhergaze.
“Allwillbegone,”Prabakersighed.
“Buttoday’sabigday.Thecampaignfortheschoolwasalongone,anditgotprettyviolentsometimes.Nowthepeoplehavewon,andthey’llhavetheirschool,sothere’llbeabigcelebrationtonight.Meanwhile,oneofthemenwhoworksherehasfinallygotason,afterhavingfivedaughtersinarow,sohe’shavingaspecialpre-celebrationlunch,andeveryone’sinvited.”
“TheVillageintheSky!”Prabakerlaughed.
“Justwhereisthisplace?Whereareyoutakingme?”
“Righthere,”Ireplied,pointingupwards.“Rightupthere.”
We’dreachedtheperimeterofthelegalslum,andthemegalithicimmensityofthetwinskyscrapersloomedbeforeus.Concretinghadbeencompletedtothree-quartersoftheirheight,buttherewerenowindows,doors,orfittingsontheunfinishedbuildings.
Withnoflashorreflectionortrimtorelievethegreymassivenessofthestructures,theyswallowedlightintothemselves,extinguishedit,andbecamesilosforstoringshadows.Thehundredsofcave-likeholesthatwouldeventuallybewindowsallowedakindofcross-sectionalviewintotheconstruction-anant-farmpictureofmenandwomenandchildren,oneveryfloor,walkingtoandfro,upwardanddown,abouttheirtasks.Atgroundlevel,thenoisewasapercussiveandexcitingmusicoftoweringambition:thenervousirritationofgenerators,themercilessmetal-to-metalzingofhammers,andthewhininginsistenceofdrillsandgrinders.
Snakinglinesofsari-cladwomencarryingdishesofgravelontheirheadswovethroughalltheworkplaces,fromman-madedunesofsmallstonestotheyawningmouthsofceaselesslyrevolvingcement-mixingmachines.Tomywesterneyes,thosefluid,femininefiguresinsoftred,blue,green,andyellowsilkwereincongruousinthephysicalturmoiloftheconstructionsite.YetIknew,fromwatchingthemthroughthemonths,thattheywereindispensabletothework.Theycarriedthegreatbulkofstoneandsteelandcementontheirslenderbacks,onerounddish-fullatatime.Theuppermostfloorshadn’tbeenconcreted,buttheframeworkofupright,transom,andtrussgirderswasalreadyinplaceandeventhere,thirty-fivestoreysintothesky,womenworkedbesidethemen.Theyweresimplepeoplefromsimplevillages,mostofthem,buttheirviewofthegreatcitywasunparalleled,fortheywerebuildingthetalleststructuresinBombay.
“TallestbuildingsinallIndia,”Prabakersaidwithagestureofexpansive,proprietalpride.Helivedintheillegalslum,andhadnothingwhatsoevertodowiththeconstruction,butheboastedaboutthebuildingsasiftheywerehisowndesign.
“Well,thetallestbuildingsinBombay,anyway,”Icorrected.
“You’llgetagoodviewfromupthere.We’rehavinglunchonthetwenty-thirdfloor.”
“Up…there?”Karlasaidthroughanexpressionofexquisitedread.“Noproblem,MissKarla.Wearenotwalkingupit,thisbuilding.
Wearetravellingfirstclass,inthatveryfinelifts.”
Prabakerpointedtothefreightelevatorattachedtotheoutsideofthebuildinginayellow,steelframework.Shewatchedastheplatformjerkedandrattledupwardsonheavycableswithloadsofmenandequipment.
“Oh,swell,”Karlasaid.“NowIfeelgreataboutit.”
“Ifeelgreat,too,MissKarla!”Prabakeragreed,hissmilehugeashetuggedathersleeveandpulledhertowardtheelevator.
“Come,wewillcatchtheliftsonthenextrun.Theyareabeautifulbuildings,yes?”
“Idon’tknow.Theylooklikemonumentstosomethingthatdied,”shemutteredtomeaswefollowedhim.“Somethingveryunpopular…like…thehumanspirit,forexample.”
Theworkmenwhoranthefreightelevatorshoutedsafetyinstructionsatus,gruffintheirself-importance.Weclimbedontothewobblingplatformwithseveralothermenandwomen,andawheelbarrowcontainingworktoolsandbarrelsofrivets.Thedriverblewtwoshrillblastsonhismetalwhistleandthrewtheleverthatactivatedthepowerfulgenerators,controllingourascent.Themotorroared,theplatformshuddered,throwingusatthepanic-handlesattachedtotheuprights,andtheelevatorgroanedslowlyupwards.Therewasnocagesurroundingtheplatform,onlyayellowpipeatwaistheightaroundthethreeopensides.Inafewseconds,wewerefifty,eighty,ahundredmetresofftheground.
“Howdoyoulikeit?”Ishouted.
“I’mscaredoutofmybrain!”sheshoutedback,herdarkeyesshining.“It’sgreat!”
“Areyouafraidofheights?”
“OnlywhenI’monthem!Ihopeyougotareservation,atthisgoddamnrestaurantofyours!Whatarewedoingeatinglunchhere,anyway?Don’tyouthinktheyshouldfinishthebuildingfirst?”
“They’reworkingonthetopfloorsnow.Thiselevatorisconstantlyinuse.It’snotusuallyavailablefortheworkerstouse.It’sreservedforwheelbarrowsandbuildingmaterialsandstuff.It’salongclimb,upthirtyflightsofstepseveryday,anditgetsfairlytrickyinplaces.Alotofthepeoplewhoworktheseupperfloorsstayupheremostofthetime.Theyliveuphere.Eat,work,andsleep.They’vegotfarmanimalsandkitchensandeverything.Goatsformilk,andchickensforeggs,everythingtheyneedissentuptothem.It’ssortoflikeabasecampthatmountaineersusewhentheyclimbEverest.”
“TheVillageintheSky!”sheshoutedback.
“Yougotit.”
Theelevatorstoppedatthetwenty-thirdfloor,andwestumbledoutontoaconcretesurfacethatsproutedclumpsofsteelrodsandwireslikemetalweeds.Itwasavast,cavernousspace,dividedbyequidistantcolumnsandcanopiedbyaflat,concreteceilingadornedwithacreeperyofcables.Everyflatplanewasanunrelievedgrey,whichgaveastartlingvividnesstothehumanandanimalfiguresgroupedonthefarsideofthefloor.Anareaaroundoneofthepillarswasfencedoffwithwickerandbambooforuseasananimalpen.Strawandhessianwasstrewnabouttoserveasbeddingforthegoats,chickens,cats,anddogsthatforagedamiddiscardedfoodscrapsandrubbishinthepen.Rolledblanketsandmattresses,forthepeoplewhosleptthere,wereheapedaroundanotherpillar.Yetanotherpillarhadbeendesignatedasaplayareaforchildren,withafewgamesandtoysandsmallmatsscatteredfortheiruse.
Asweapproachedthecrowdofpeople,wesawthatagreatfeastwasbeinglaidoutoncleanreedmats.Hugebananaleavesservedasplates.Ateamofwomenscoopedoutservingsofsaffronrice,alupalak,kheema,bhajee,andotherfoods.Abatteryofkerosenestovesstoodnearby,andmorefoodwascookingthere.Wewashedourhandsinadrumofwaterandjoinedtheothers,sittingonthefloorbetweenJohnnyCigarandPrabaker’sfriendKishore.Thefoodwasmuchmorepiquantlyspicedwithchilliesandcurriesthananyavailableinrestaurantsinthecity,andmuchmoredelicious.Aswascustomary,thewomenhadtheirownbanquet,laidoutsomefivemetresaway.Karlawastheonlyfemaleinourgroupoftwentymen.
“Howareyoulikingtheparty?”JohnnyaskedKarlaasthefirstcourseoffoodswasbeingreplacedbythesecond.
“It’sgreat,”shereplied.“Damnnicefood.Damnniceplacetoeatit.”
“Ah!Hereisthenewdaddy!”Johnnycalledout.“Comehere,Dilip.MeetMissKarla,afriendofLin’swhohascometoeatwithus.”
Dilipbowedlowwithhishandspressedtogetheringreeting,andthenmovedaway,smilingshyly,tosupervisethepreparationofteaattwolargestoves.Heworkedasariggeronthesite.Thesitemanagerhadgivenhimthedayofftoorganisethefeastforhisfamilyandfriends.Hishutwasonthelegalsideoftheslum,butclosetomyownacrossthewire.Besidethewomen’sbanquetarea,justbeyondDilip’steastoves,twomenwereattemptingtocleansomethingfromthewall.Awordthatsomeonehadpaintedtherewasstilllegiblebeneaththeirscrubbing.ItwasthewordSAPNA,writteninlargeEnglishcapitals.
“Whatisthat?”IaskedJohnnyCigar.“I’veseeniteverywherelately.”
“It’sbad,Linbaba,”hespatout,crossinghimselfsuperstitiously.“It’sthenameofathief,agoonda.He’sabadfellow.He’sbeendoingevilthingsalloverthecity.He’sbeenbreakingintohouses,andstealing,andevenkilling.”
“Didyousaykilling?”Karlaasked.Theskinonherlipswastight,andherjawwassetinahard,grimline.
“Yes!”Johnnyinsisted.“Firstitwasjustwords,inpostersandsuch,andwritingonthewalls.Now,ithascometomurder-coldbloodmurder.Twopeoplewerekilledintheirownhousesjustlastnight.”
“Heissocrazy,thisSapna,heusesa_girl’sname,”Jeetendrasneered.
Itwasagoodpoint.Thewordsapna,meaningdream,wasfeminine,andafairlycommongirl’sname.
“Notsocrazy,”Prabakerdisagreed,hiseyesgleamingbuthisexpressiongrave.“Hetellsthatheisthekingofthieves.Hetalksaboutmakingitwar,tohelpthepoorpeople,andkillingtherichpeoples.Thisiscrazy,yes,butitisthekindofacrazythatmanypeoplewillagreewith,insidethequietoftheirownheads.”
“Whoishe?”Iasked.
“Nobodyknowswhoheis,Lin,”Kishoresaid,hisAmericanaccentedEnglish,learnedfromtourists,flowinginaliquiddrawl.“Alotofpeoplearetalkingabouthim,butnobodyIspoketohaseverseenhim.Peoplesayhe’sthesonofarichman.Theysayhe’sfromDelhi,andthathegotcutoutofhisinheritance.
Butsomepeoplealsosayhe’sadevil.Somepeoplethinkthatit’snotamanatall,butakindoforganisation,like.Therearepostersstuckuparoundtheplace,posterstellingthethievesandthepoorbuggersinthezhopadpattistodocrazythings.AndlikeJohnnysaid,nowtwopeoplehavebeenmurdered.
ThenameSapnaisgettingpaintedonwallsandstreetsalloverBombay.Thecopsareaskingalotofquestions.Ithinkthey’rescared.”
“Therichpeoplesarescared,too,”Prabakeradded.“Theywererichpeople,thoseunluckyfellows,killedintheirhomes.ThisSapnafellowiswritinghisnameinEnglishletters,nottheHindiwriting.Thisisanedu-catedfellow.Andwhopaintedthatnamehere,inthisplace?Thepeoplesarealwayshere,alwaysworkorsleep,butnobodyhasseenwhopaintedhisname.Aneducatedghost!Richpeoplesarealsoscared.Notsocrazy,thisSapnafellow.”
“Madachudh!Pagal!”Johnnyspatagain._Motherfucker!_Madman!
“He’strouble,thisSapna,andthetroublewillbeours,youknow,becausetroubleistheonlypropertythatpoorfellowslikeusareallowedtoown.”
“Ithinkwemightchangethesubject,guys,”Iinterjected,lookingatKarla.Herfacewaspale,andhereyeswerewidewithwhatseemedtobefright.“Areyouokay?”
“I’mfine,”sheansweredquickly.“MaybethatelevatorridewasscarierthanIthought.”
“Sorryforproblem,MissKarla,”Prabakerapologised,hisfacepinchedinasolicitousfrown.“Fromnow,onlyhappytalking.Nomoretalkingaboutkillingandmurdersandbloodalloverthehouses,andallthat.”
“Thatshouldcoverit,Prabu,”Imutteredthroughclenchedteeth,glaringathim
Severalyoungwomencametocleartheusedbananaleavesaway,andlayoutsmalldishesofsweetrabdidessertforus.TheystaredatKarlawithfrankfascination.
“Herlegsaretoothin,”oneofthemsaid,inHindi.“Youcanseethem,throughthepants.”
“Andherfeetaretoobig,”saidanother.
“Butherhairisverysoft,andagood,blackIndiancolour,”saidathird.
“Hereyesarethecolourofstink-weed,”saidthefirstwithacontemptuoussniff.
“Becareful,sisters,”Ilaughed,speakinginHindi.“MyfriendspeaksperfectHindi,andsheunderstandseverythingyou’resaying.”
Thewomenreactedwithshockedscepticism,chatteringamongstthemselves.OneofthemstoopedtostareintoKarla’sface,andaskedherloudlyifshespokeHindi.
“Mylegsmaybetoothin,andmyfeetmaybetoobig,”KarlarepliedinfluentHindi,“butthere’snothingwrongwithmyhearing.”
Thewomenshriekedindelightandcrowdedaroundher,laughinghappily.Theypleadedwithhertojointhem,sweepingherawaytothewomen’sbanquet.Iwatchedherforsometime,surprisedtoseehersmileandevenlaughoutloudinthecompanyofthewomenandtheyounggirls.ShewasthemostbeautifulwomanI’deverknown.Itwasthebeautyofadesertatdawn:alovelinessthatfilledmyeyes,andcrushedmeintosilent,unbreathingawe.
Lookingatherthere,intheVillageintheSky,watchingherlaugh,itshockedmetothinkthatI’ddeliberatelyavoidedherforsomanymonths.Iwasnolesssurprisedbyhowtactilethegirlswerewithher,howeasilytheyreachedouttostrokeherhairortotakeherhandsintheirown.I’dperceivedhertobealoofandalmostcold.Inlessthanaminute,thosewomenweremorefamiliarwithherthanI’ddaredtobeinmorethanayearoffriendship.Irememberedthequick,impulsivekissshe’dgivenme,inmyhut.Irememberedthesmellofcinnamonandjasmineinherhair,andthepressofherlips,likesweetgrapesswollenwiththesummersun.
Teaarrived,andItookmyglasstostandnearoneofthehugewindowopeningsthatlookedoutovertheslum.Farbelow,thetatteredcloakoftheghettospreadoutwardfromtheconstructionsitetotheveryedgeofthesea.Thenarrowlanes,obscuredbyraggedoverhangs,wereonlypartiallyvisibleandseemedmoreliketunnelsthanstreets.Smokeroseindriftsfromcookingfires,andstutteredonasluggishseawardbreezetodisperseoverascatteringofcanoesthatfishedthemuddyshore.
Inlandfromtheslumtherewerealargenumberoftallapartmentbuildings,theexpensivehomesofthemiddle-rich.Frommyperch,Ilookeddownatthefabulousgardensofpalmsandcreepersonthetopsofsome,andtheminiatureslumsthatservantsoftherichhadbuiltforthemselvesonthetopsofothers.Mouldandmildewscarredeverybuilding,eventhenewest.I’dcometothinkofitasbeautiful,thatdeclineanddecay,creepingacrossthefaceofthegrandestdesigns:thatstainoftheend,spreadingacrosseverybrightbeginninginBombay.
“You’reright,itisagoodview,”Karlasaidquietlyasshejoinedme.
“Icomeuphereatnight,sometimes,wheneveryone’sasleep,”Isaid,justasquietly.“It’soneofmyfavouriteplacestobealone.”
Weweresilent,forawhile,watchingthecrowshoveranddipovertheslum.
“So,where’syourfavouriteplacetobealone?”
“Idon’tliketobealone,”shesaidflatly,andthenturnedintimetoseemyexpression.“What’sthematter?”
“IguessI’msurprised.Ijust,well,Ithoughtofyouassomeonewho’sgoodatbeingalone.Idon’tmeanthatinabadway.Ijustthinkofyouas…sortofaloof,sortofaboveitall.”
“Youraimisoff,”shesmiled.“Belowitall,wouldbemorelikeit.”
“Wow,twiceinoneday.”
“What?”
“That’stwiceinonedaythatI’veseenabigsmile.Youweresmilingwiththegirlsbefore,andIwasthinkingthatit’sthefirsttimeI’veeverseenyoureallysmile.”
“Well,ofcourseIsmile.”
“Don’tgetmewrong.Ilikeit.Not-smilingcanbeveryattractive.Gimmeanhonestfrownoverafalsesmile,anyday.Itlooksrightonyou.Youlook,Idon’tknow,sortofsatisfied,notsmiling,ormaybehonestistherightword.Itlooksrightonyou,somehow.OrIthoughtitdid,untilIsawyousmilingtoday.”
“OfcourseIsmile,”sherepeated,herbrowcreasinginafrown,whilehertightlypressedlipswrestledwiththesmile.
Weweresilentagain,staringateachotherinsteadoftheview.
Hereyeswerereef-green,fleckedwithgold,andtheyshonewiththeluminousintensitythat’susuallyasignofsufferingorintelligence,orboth.Acleanwindstirredhershoulder-lengthhair-verydarkhair,thesameblack-brownashereyebrowsandlonglashes.Herlipswereafine,unpaintedpink,partedtorevealthetipofhertonguebetweeneven,whiteteeth.Sheleanedagainstthewindowlessframewithherarmsfolded.Thetidesofthebreezerippledthroughtheloosesilkofherblouse,revealingandconcealingherfigure.
“Whatwereyouandthegirlslaughingabout?”
Sheraisedoneeyebrowinthefamiliar,sardonichalf-smile.
“Areyoumakingsmalltalkwithme?”
“MaybeIam,”Ilaughed.“Ithinkyou’remakingmenervous.
Sorry.”
“Don’tworryaboutit.Itakeitasacompliment-tobothofus.
Ifyoureallywanttoknow,itwasmostlyaboutyou.”
“Me?”
“Yeah,theyweretalkingaboutyouhuggingabear.”
“Oh,that.Well,itwasprettyfunny,Iguess.”
“Oneofthewomenwasimitatingthelookyouhadonyourface,justbeforeyoudidit,andtheycrackedupoverthat.Butthereallyfunnythingtothemwasfiguringoutwhyyoudidit.
Everyonetookturnsatguessingwhy.Radha-shesaidshe’syourneighbour,right?”
“Yeah,she’sSatish’smother.”
“Well,Radhasaidyouhuggedthebearbecauseyoufeltsorryforit.Thatgotabiglaugh.”
“I’llbet,”Imumbleddryly.“Whatdidyousay?”
“Isaidyouprobablydiditbecauseyou’reaguywho’sinterestedineverything,andwantstoknoweverything.”
“It’sfunnyyousaythat.Agirlfriendofmineoncetoldme,alongtimeago,thatshewasattractedtomebecauseIwasinterestedineverything.Shesaidsheleftmeforthesamereason.”
WhatIdidn’ttellKarlawasthatthegirlfriendhaddescribedmeasinterestedineverything,andcommittedtonothing.Itstillrankled.Itstillhurt.Itwasstilltrue.
“Areyou…areyouinterestedinhelpingmewithsomething?”
Karlaasked.Hertonewassuddenlyserious,portentous.
Sothat’sit,Ithought.That’swhyshecametoseeme.Shewantssomething.Thespitefulcatofwoundedpridearchedbehindmyeyes.Shedidn’tmissme-shewantedsomethingfromme.Butshehadcome,shewasaskingme,notsomeoneelse,andtherewassalvageinthat.Lookingintothoseseriousgreeneyes,Isensedthatitwasrareforhertoaskanyoneforhelp.Ialsohadthefeelingthatagreatdeal,maybetoomuch,wasbalancedinit.
“Sure,”Isaid,carefulnottohesitatefortoolong.“Whatdoyouwantmetodo?”
Sheswallowedhard,pushingpastanobviousreluctance,andspokeinarushofwords.
“There’sthisgirl,afriendofmine.Hername’sLisa.She’sgotherselfinaverybadsituation.Shestartedworkingatthisplace-aplaceforforeigncallgirls.Anyway,Lisamessedup.
Nowsheowesmoney,alotofit,andtheMadamewhorunstheplacewheresheworkswon’tlethergo.Iwanttogetheroutofthere.”
“Idon’thavemuch,butIthink…”
“It’snotthemoney.I’vegotthemoney.ButthewomanwhorunstheplacehastakenalikingtoLisa.Evenifwepay,shewon’tlethergo.Iknowwhatshe’slike.It’spersonalnow.Themoney’sjustanexcuse.WhatshereallywantsistobreakLisa,alittleatatime,untilthere’snothingleft.Shehatesher,becauseLisa’sbeautifulandbrightandshe’sgotguts.Shewon’tletherleave.”
“Youwantustobreakheroutofthere?”
“Notexactly.”
“Iknowsomepeople,”Isaid,thinkingofAbdullahTaheriandhismafiafriends.“They’renotafraidofafight.Wecouldaskthemtohelp.”
“No,I’vegotfriendshere,too.Theycouldgetheroutofthereeasyenough,butthatwouldn’tstoptheheaviesfromfindingher,andtakingitoutonherlater.Theydon’tmessaround.Theyuseacid.Lisawouldn’tbethefirstgirltogetacidthrowninherfacebecauseshegotonthewrongsideofMadameZhou.Wecan’triskit.Whateverwedo,ithastobeinawaythatconvinceshertoleaveLisaalone,forever.”
Iwasuneasyaboutit.IsensedthattherewasmoretoitthanKarlawastellingme.
“DidyousayMadameZhou?”
“Yes-haveyouheardofher?”
“Abit,”Inodded.“Idon’tknowhowmuchofittobelieve.
Peoplesaysomeprettywildanddirtythingsabouther.”
“Thewildthings…Idon’tknow…butthedirtythingsarealltrue,takeitfromme.”
Ididn’tfeelanybetteraboutit.
“Whydoesn’tshejustrunaway,thisfriendofyours?Whydoesn’tshegetonaplane,andgetthehellbackto-wheredidyousayshecamefrom?”
“She’sAmerican.Look,ifIcouldmakehergobacktotheStates,therewouldn’tbeaproblem.Butshewon’tgoback.Shewon’tleaveBombay.She’llneverleaveBombay.She’sajunkie.That’sabigpartofit.Butthere’smorethanthat-stufffromherpast,stuffshecan’tfacebackthere.Soshewon’tgo.I’vetriedtotalkherintoit,butit’snogood.She…shejustwon’t.AndIcan’tsaythatIblameher.I’vegotissuesofmyown-thingsinmypastI’drathernotgobackto.ThingsIwon’tgobackto.”
“Andyou’vegotaplan-togetthisgirlout,Imean?”
“Yes.Iwantyoutopretendthatyou’resomeonefromtheAmericanembassy,somekindofconsulateofficer.I’vealreadysetitup.
Youwon’thavetodomuch.I’lldomostofthetalking.We’lltellthemthatLisa’sfatherissomebighonchoinAmericawithtiestothegovernment,andthatyou’vehadorderstogetheroutofthereandkeepaneyeonher.I’llhaveallthatstraightbeforeyouevenwalkinthedoor.”“Itsoundsprettyfuzzytome,Karla.Youthinkthat’llbeenough?”
Shetookabundleofbeediesfromherpocketandlittwoofthemwithacigarettelighter,holdingthesmallcigarettesinonehandandplayingtheflameoverthemwiththeother.Shepassedonetome,andpuffeddeeplyonherownbeforeansweringme.
“Ithinkso.It’sthebestthingI’vecomeupwith.ItalkeditoverwithLisa,andshesaysshethinksit’llwork.IfMadameZhougetshermoney,andifshebelievesyou’refromtheembassy,andifshe’sconvincedthatshe’llgetintotroublewiththeembassyorthegovernmentifshehasslesLisaanymore,Ithinkshe’llleaveheralone.There’salotofifsinthere,Iknow.Alotofitreallydependsonyou.”
“Itdependsonher,too,this…Madame.Doyouthinkshe’llbelieveit-believe_me?”
“We’llhavetoplayitexactlyright.She’smorecunningthanclever,butshe’snotstupid.”
“DoyouthinkIcandothis?”
“How’syourAmericanaccent?”sheaskedwithalittleembarrassedlaugh.
“Iwasanactoronce,”Imuttered,“inanotherlife.”
“That’sgreat!”shesaid,reachingouttotouchmyforearm.Herlong,slenderfingersfeltcoolagainstmywarmskin.
“Idon’tknow,”Ifrowned.“It’salotofresponsibilityifitdoesn’tgodownright.Ifsomethinghappenstothegirl,ortoyou…”
“She’smyfriend.It’smyidea.Theresponsibility’smine.”
“I’dfeelbetteraboutit,youknow,justfightingmywayinthere,andfightingmywayoutagain.Thisembassything-there’ssomanywaysitcouldgowrong.”
“Iwouldn’taskyouifIdidn’tthinkitwastherightwaytogo,andifIwasn’tsureyoucoulddoit,Lin.”
Shefellsilent,waiting.Iletherwait,butIknewtheansweralready.Shemight’vethoughtIwasweighingitup,tryingtomakeupmymind.Infact,IwasonlythinkingaboutwhyIwasgoingtodoit.Isitforher?Iaskedmyself.AmIcommitted,orjustinterested?WhydidIhugthebear?
Ismiled.
“Whendowedothis?”
Shesmiledback.
“Inacoupleofdays.I’vegottodoabitofstufffirst,tosetitallup.”Shethrewthefinishedbeedieaway,andtookasteptowardsme.Ithinkshemight’vekissedme,butjustthenafrightenedclamourofshoutingandshrieksstartedupamongthepeople,andtheyrantojoinusatthewindows.Inthejamofbodies,Prabakerpushedhisheadthrough,undermyarmandnexttoKarla.
“Municipality!”heshouted.“B.M.C.iscoming!BombayMunicipalCorporation.Lookthere!”
“Whatisit?What’shappening?”Karlaasked.Hervoicewasallbutlostintheshoutsandscreams.
“It’sthecouncil.They’regoingtoteardownsomehouses,”Icalledback,mylipsclosetoherear.“Theydothiseverymonthorso.They’retryingtokeeptheslumundercontrol,tostopitfromspreadingoutsidetheedge,there,whereitmeetsthestreet.”
Welookeddownnearthemainstreettoseefour,five,sixlarge,darkbluepolicetrucksrollingintoanopenareathatwasakindofnoman’sland,enclosedbythecrescentoftheslum.Theheavytruckswerecoveredwithcanvastarpaulins.Wecouldn’tseeinsidethem,butweknewtheycontainedsquadsofcops,twentyormorementoeachtruck.Anopentray-truck,loadedwithcouncilworkersandtheirequipment,drovebetweentheparkedpolicevehiclesandstoppednearthehuts.Severalofficersclimbeddownfromthepolicetrucksanddeployedtheirmenintworows.
Thecouncilworkers,themselvesmostlyslum-dwellersfromotherslums,leaptfromtheirtruck,andsetabouttheirtaskofdemolition.Eachmanhadaropeandgrapplinghookthatheswungontotheroofofahutuntilitcaughtfast.Hethentuggedontherope,collapsingthefragilehut.Thepeoplehadjustenoughtimetogatherthebareessentials-babies,money,papers.
Everythingelsewastumbledandrakedintothewreckage:kerosenestovesandcookingpots,bagsandbedding,clothesandchildren’stoys.Peoplescatteredinpanic.Thepolicestoppedsomeofthem,andthenmarchedafewyoungmenawaytothewaitingtrucks.
Thepeopleatourwindowsgrewsilentastheywatched.Fromourvantagepoint,wecouldseethedestructionfarbelow,butwecouldn’theareventheloudestnoiseofit.Somehow,thesoundlessnessofthatmethodical,scouringobliterationstruckatusall.Ihadn’tnoticedthewinduntilthen.Itwasamoaningwailinthateeriequiet.Iknewthatallthroughthethirty-fivefloorsofthebuilding,aboveandbelowus,otherpeoplestaredmutewitness,justaswedid.
Althoughthehousesofconstructionworkersinthelegalslumweresafe,allworkonthesitestoppedinsympathy.Theworkersunderstoodthatwhenthebuildingwasfinisheditwouldbetheirownhomesthatwouldlieinruins.Theyknewthattheritualthey’dallseensomanytimesbeforewouldbeplayedoutforthelasttime:theghettowouldbeguttedandburned,andacarparkforlimousineswouldtakeitsplace.
Ilookedatthefacesaroundme;facesstruckwithcompassionanddread.Intheeyesofsome,Isawsmouldersofshameforwhatthecouncil’spowerhadforcedtoomanyofustothink:ThankGod…
ThankGodit’snotme…
“Greatluck,yourhouseissafe,Linbaba!Yoursandminealso!”
Prabakersaidaswewatchedthecopsandcouncilworkersclimbbackontotheirtrucksanddriveaway.They’dscythedandsmashedaswath,onehundredmetreslongandtenmetreswide,atthenorth-easterncorneroftheillegalslum.Aboutsixtyhouseshadbeenobliterated,thehomesofatleasttwohundredpeople.Theentireoperationhadtakenlessthantwentyminutes.
“Wherewilltheygo?”Karlaaskedquietly.
“Mostofitwillbebackagainbythistimetomorrow.Nextmonththey’llcomeandknockthemdownagain,oranotherbunchofhutsjustliketheminanotherpartoftheslum.Thenthat’llberebuilt.Butit’sstillabigloss.Alltheirthingshavebeensmashedup.Theyhavetobuynewbambooandmatsandstuff,tomakenewhouses.Andpeoplegotarrested-wemightnotseethemagainformonths.”
“Idon’tknowwhatscaresmemore,”shedeclared,“themadnessthatsmashespeopledown,ortheirabilitytoendureit.”
Mostofthepeoplehadleftthewindow,butKarlaandIremainedasclosetogetheraswe’dbeeninthepushandshoveofthecrowd.Myarmwasaroundhershoulder.Ontheground,twentyfloorsbelow,peoplebegantopickthroughtherubbleoftheirhomes.Canvasandplasticshelterswerealreadybeingerectedfortheelderly,thebabies,andthesmallestchildren.Sheturnedtofaceme,andIkissedher.
Thetautbowofherlipsdissolvedonmineinconcessionsoffleshtoflesh.Therewassuchsadtendernessinitthat,forasecondortwo,Ifloatedfree,andwasadriftinitsinexpressiblekindnesses.I’dthoughtofKarlaasstreet-wiseandtoughandalmostcold,butthatkisswaspure,undisguisedvulnerability.Thegentlelovelinessofitshockedme,andIwasthefirsttopullaway.
“I’msorry.Ididn’t…”Ifaltered.
“It’sokay,”shesmiled,leaningawayfrommewithherhandsonmychest.“Butwemightbemakingoneofthoseprettygirlsatthefeastjealous.”
“Who?”
“Areyousayingyoudon’thaveagirlhere?”
“No.Ofcoursenot.”Ifrowned.
“I’vegottostoplisteningtoDidier,”shesighed.“Itwashisidea.Hethinksyoumusthaveagirlfriendhere.Hethinksthat’stheonlyreasonyou’dstayintheslum.Hesaidthat’stheonlyreasonanyforeignerwouldstayintheslum.”
“Idon’thaveagirlfriend,Karla,nothereoranywhere.I’minlovewithyou.”
“Noyou’renot!”shesnapped,anditwaslikeaslap.
“Ican’thelpit.ForalongtimenowI-”
“Stopit!”sheinterruptedmeagain.“You’renot!You’renot!Oh,God,howIhatelove!”
“Youcan’thatelove,Karla,”Isaid,laughinggently,andtryingtolightenhermood.
“Maybenot,butyousureashellcanbesickofit.It’ssuchahugearrogance,tolovesomeone,andthere’stoomuchofitaround.There’stoomuchloveintheworld.SometimesIthinkthat’swhatheavenis-aplacewhereeverybody’shappybecausenobodylovesanybodyelse,ever.”
Thewindlashedherhairintoherface,andshepusheditbackwithbothhands,holdingittherewithherfingersfannedoutacrossherforehead.Shewasstaringdownatherfeet.
“Whatthefuckeverhappenedtogood,old,meaninglesssex,withoutanystringsattached?”sherasped,herlipsdrawntightlyoverherteeth.
Itwasn’taquestion,butIanswereditanyway.
“I’mnotrulingthatout-asafall-backposition,sotospeak.”
“Look,Idon’twanttobeinlove,”shestated,inasoftertone.
Sheraisedhereyestostareintomine.“Idon’twantanyonetobeinlovewithme.Ithasn’tbeengoodtome,theromancething.”
“Idon’tthinkit’skindtoanyone,Karla.”
“Mypoint,exactly.”“Butwhenithappens,youhaven’tgotachoice.Idon’tthinkit’ssomethinganyofusdobychoice.And…Idon’twanttoputanypressureonyou.I’mjustinlovewithyou,that’sall.
I’vebeeninlovewithyouforawhile,andIfinallyhadtosayit.Itdoesn’tmeanyouhavetodoanythingaboutit-ormeeither,forthatmatter.”
“I’mstill…Idon’tknow.I’mjust…Jesus!ButI’mhappyto_likeyou.Ilikeyoualot.I’llbeheadoverheelsinlikewithyou,Lin,ifthat’senough.”
Hereyeswerehonest,andyetIknewtherewasalotshewasn’ttellingme.Hereyeswerebrave,andyetshewasafraid.WhenIrelented,andsmiledather,shelaughed.Ilaughed,too.
“Isitenoughfornow?”
“Sure,”Ilied.“Sure.”
Butalready,likethepeopleintheghetto,hundredsoffeetbelow,Iwaspickingthroughthesmashedhousesinmyheart,andrebuildingontheruin.
____________________
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
DespitethefactthatonlyahandfulofpeoplecouldclaimtohaveseenMadameZhouwiththeirowneyes,shewasthemainattraction,Karlaassuredme,formanyofthosewhovisitedthePalace.Herclientswererichmen:executive-levelbusinessmen,politicians,andgangsters.ThePalaceofferedthemforeigngirls–exclusively,fornoIndiangirlseverworkedthere-andelaboratefacilitiesfortherealisationoftheirwildestsexualfantasies.Thestrangestofthoseillicitpleasures,devisedbyMadameZhoupersonally,werethesubjectofshocked,breathlesswhispersthroughoutthecity,butinfluentialcontactsandsubstantialbribesmeantthatthePalacewasimmunefromraidsorevenclosescrutiny.AndalthoughtherewereotherplacesinBombaythatprovidedequalindulgenceandsecurity,noneofthemwereaspopularasMadameZhou’sbecausenonehadtheMadameherself.Intheend,whatkeptmencomingtothePalacewasn’ttheskillandlovelinessofthewomentheycouldhavethere;itwasthemysteryofthewomantheycouldn’thave-theinvisiblebeautyofMadameZhou.
PeoplesaidshewasRussian,butthatdetail,likealltheothersconcerningherprivatelife,seemedtobeunverifiable.Itwasaccepted,Karlasaid,simplybecauseitwasthemostpersistentrumour.Oneclearfactwasthatshe’darrivedinNewDelhiduringthe1960s,adecadeaswildforthatcityasitwasformostwesterncapitals.Thenewpartofthecitywascelebratingitsthirtiethyear,then,andOldDelhiitsthreehundredth.MadameZhou,mostsourcesagreed,wastwenty-nine.Legendhaditthatshe’dbeenthemistressofaKGBofficerwho’demployedheruniquebeautytosubornprominentCongressPartyofficials.TheCongressPartygovernedIndiathroughthoseyearswithwhatseemedtobeanunassailableleadineverynationalpoll.Manyofthepartyfaithful-andeventheirenemies-believedthattheCongressPartywouldcontinuetoruletheIndianmother-landforahundredyears.PoweroverCongressmen,therefore,waspoweroverthenation.
ThegossipaboutheryearsinDelhiprowledfromscandalsandsuicidestopoliticalmurder.Karlasaidthatshe’dheardsomanydifferentversionsofthestories,fromsuchawidevarietyofpeople,shebegantothinkthatthetruth,whateveritmight’vebeen,wasn’treallyimportanttothem.MadameZhouhadbecomeakindofportmanteaufigure:peoplepackedthedetailsoftheirownobsessionsintoherlife.Onesaidshepossessedafortuneinpreciousgemsthatshekeptinahessiansack,anothertalkedwithauthorityaboutheraddictiontovariousdrugs,andathirdwhisperedofsatanicritesandcannibalism.
“Peoplesayalotofreallyweirdstuffabouther,andIthinksomeofit’sjustcrap,butthebottomlineis,she’sdangerous,”
Karlasaid.“Devious,anddangerous.”
“U-huh.”
“I’mnotkidding.Don’tunderestimateher.WhenshemovedfromDelhitoBombay,sixyearsago,therewasamurdertrial,andshewasatthecentreofit.TwoveryimportantguysendedupdeadinherDelhiPalace,bothofthemwiththeirthroatscut.Oneofthemhappenedtobeapoliceinspector.Thetrialfellapartwhenonewitnessagainstherdisappeared,andanotherwasfoundhangingfromthedoorwayofhishouse.SheleftDelhitosetupshopinBombay,andwithinthefirstsixmonthstherewasanothermurder,onlyablockawayfromthePalace,andalotofpeopleconnectedherwithit.Butshe’sgotsomuchstuffonsomanypeople-stuffthatgoesallthewaytothetop.Theycan’ttouchher.Shecandoprettymuchwhatshelikes,becausesheknowsshe’llgetawaywithit.Ifyouwanttogetoutofthis,now’syourchance.”
WewereinaBumblebee,oneoftheubiquitousblack-and-yellowFiattaxis,travellingsouththroughtheSteelBazaar.Trafficwasheavy.Hundredsofwoodenhandcarts,longerandtallerandwiderthanacarwhenfullyladen,trundledalongbetweenbusesandtrucks,pushedbybarefootporters,sixmentoeachcart.ThemainstreetsoftheSteelBazaarwerecrammedwithsmallandmediumshops.Theysoldeverykindofmetalhouse-ware,fromkerosenestovestostainlesssteelsinks,andmostofthecastironandsheet-metalproductsrequiredbybuilders,shop-fitters,anddecorators.Theshopsthemselveswereadornedwithgleamingmetalwares,strunginsuchbrilliantlypolishedplentyandsuchartfularraythattheyoftenattractedthecameralensesoftourists.Behindtheglossy,commercialrambleofthestreets,however,werethehiddenlanes,wheremenwhowerepaidincents,ratherthandollars,workedatblackandgrittyfurnacestoproducethoseshininglures.
Thewindowsofthecabwereopen,butnobreezestirredthroughthem.Itwashotandstillinthesluggishchurnoftraffic.We’dstoppedatKarla’sapartmentontheway,whereI’dswappedmyT-shirt,jeans,andbootsforapairofdressshoes,conservativelycutblacktrousers,astarchedwhiteshirt,andatie.
“TheonlythingI’dliketogetoutof,atthemoment,aretheseclothes,”Igrumbled.
“What’swrongwiththem?”sheasked,amischievousgleaminhereye.
“They’reitchyandhorrible.”
“They’llbefine.”
“Ihopewedon’thaveanaccident-I’dreallyhatetogetkilledintheseclothes.”
“Actually,theylookprettygoodonyou.”
“Oh,shit,makemyday.”
“Hey,comeon!”shechided,curlingherlipinanaffablesmirk.
Heraccent,theaccentI’dcometoloveandconsiderthemostinterestingintheworld,gaveeverywordaroundedresonancethatthrilledme.ThemusicofthataccentwasItalian,itsshapewasGerman,itshumouranditsattitudewereAmerican,anditscolourwasIndian.“Beingsofussyaboutdressingdown,thewayyoudo,isakindofvanity,youknow.It’sfairlyconceited,too.”
“Idon’tdressdown.Ijusthateclothes.”
“Noyoudon’t,youloveclothes.”
“Whatisthis?I’vegotonepairofboots,onepairofjeans,oneshirt,twoT-shirts,andacoupleoflungis.That’sit-mywholewardrobe.IfI’mnotwearingit,it’shangingonanailinmyhut.”
“That’smypoint.Youloveclothessomuchthatyoucan’tbeartowearanythingbutthefewthingsthatfeeljustright.”
Ifidgetedwiththepricklycollaroftheshirt.
“Well,Karla,theseclothesarealongwayfromjustright.Howcomeyou’vegotsomanymen’sclothesatyourplace,anyway?
You’vegotmoremen’sclothesthanIhave.”
“Thelasttwoguyswholivedwithmeleftinkindofahurry.”
“Somuchofahurrythattheylefttheirclothesbehind?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Oneofthem…gotverybusy,”shesaidquietly.
“Busydoingwhat?”
“Hewasbreakingamessoflaws,soheprobablywouldn’twantmetotalkaboutit.”
“Didyoukickhimout?”
“No.”
Shesaiditflatly,butwithsuchaclearsenseofregretthatIletitgo.
“And…theotherguy?”
“Youdon’twanttoknow.”
Ididwanttoknow,butsheturnedherfaceawaytostareoutthewindow,andtherewasafinalityinthegesturethatwarnedandprohibited.I’dheardthatKarlahadoncelivedwithsomeonenamedAhmed,anAfghan.Peopledidn’ttalkaboutitmuch,andI’dassumedthatthey’dbrokenupyearsbefore.IntheyearthatIknewher,she’dlivedaloneintheapartment,andIhadn’trealiseduntilthatmomenthowdeeplythatimageofherhadinsinuateditselfintomysenseofwhoshewasandhowshelived.
Despiteherprotestthatshedidn’tliketobealone,I’dthoughtofherasoneofthosepeoplewhoneverlivedwithothers:someonewholetpeoplevisitorevenstayovernight,butnevermorethanthat.
Ilookedatthebackofherhead,atthesmallpartofherprofile,atthebarelyperceptiblebumpofherbreastsbeneaththegreenshawl,andthelong,thinfingersmakingprayerinherlap,andIcouldn’timagineherlivingwithsomeone.Breakfastandbarebacks,bathroomnoisesandbadmoods,domesticanddemimarried:itwasimpossibletoseeherinthat.Perversely,IfounditeasiertoimagineAhmed,theAfghanroommateI’dnevermet,thanitwastoimagineherasanythingbutaloneand…complete.
Wesatinsilenceforfiveminutes,asilencecalibratedbytheslowmetronomeofthetaxi’smeter.Anorangebannerhangingfromthedashboardofthecarproclaimedthatthedriver,likemanyothersinBombay,wasfromUttarPradesh,alargeandpopulousstateinIndia’snorth-east.Ourslowprogressthroughthetrafficjamgavehimmanychancestostudyusintherear-visionmirror.Hewasintrigued.KarlahadspokentohiminfluentHindi,givinghimprecise,street-by-streetdirectionstothePalace.Wewereforeignerswhobehavedlikelocals.Hedecidedtotestus.
“Sister-fuckingtraffic!”hemutteredinstreetHindi,asiftohimself,buthiseyesneverleftthemirror.“Thewholefuckingcityisconstipatedtoday.”
“Atwenty-rupeetipmightmakeagoodlaxative,”Karlafiredback,inHindi.“Whatareyoudoing,rentingthistaxibythehour?Getamoveon,brother!”
“Yes,miss!”thedriverrepliedinEnglish,throughdelightedlaughter.Heappliedhimselfwithmoreenergytobullyinghiswaythroughthetraffic.
“Sowhatdidhappentohim?”Iaskedher.
“Towho?”
“Totheotherguyyoulivedwith-theonewhodidn’tbreakamessoflaws.”
“Hedied,ifyoumustknow,”shesaid,herteethclenched.
“So…howdidhedie?”
“Theysayhepoisonedhimself.”
“Theysay?”
“Yeah,”shesighed,lookingawaytolethereyesdriftintheshuffleofpeopleonthestreet.
Wedroveinsilenceforafewmoments,andthenIhadtospeak.
“Which…whichoneofthemownedthisoutfitI’mwearing?Thelaw-breakingone,orthedeadone?”
“Thedeadone.”
“O…kay.”
“Iboughtitforhimtogetburiedin.”
“Shit!”
“Shit…what?”shedemanded,turningtofacemeagain,andfrowninghard.
“Shit…nothing…butremindmetogetthenameofyourdrycleaner.”
“Wedidn’tneedit.Theyburiedhimin…inadifferentoutfitofclothes.Iboughtthesuit,butintheendwedidn’tuseit.”
“Isee…”
“Itoldyouthatyoudidn’twanttoknow.”
“No,no,it’sokay,”Imumbled,andinfactIfeltacruel,secretreliefthattheformerloverwasdead,gone,nocompetitiontome.Iwastooyoung,then,toknowthatdeadloversarethetoughestrivals.
“Still,Karla,Idon’tmeantobepicky,butyou’vegottoadmitit’sjustatadcreepy-we’reoffonadangerousmission,andI’msittinghereinadeadguy’sburialsuit.”
“You’rejustbeingsuperstitious.”
“NoI’mnot.”
“Yesyouare.”
“I’mnotsuperstitious.”
“Yesyouare.”
“NoI’mnot.”
“Ofcourseyouare!”shesaid,givingmeherfirstrealsmilesincewe’dstartedinthetaxi.“Everyoneinthewholeworldissuperstitious.”
“Idon’twanttofightaboutit.Itmightbebadluck.”
“Don’tworry,”shelaughed.“We’llbeokay.Look,hereareyourbusinesscards.MadameZhoulikestocollectthem.She’llaskyouforone.Andshe’llkeepit,incasesheneedsafavourfromyou.
Butifitevercomestothat,she’llfindthatyou’relonggonefromtheembassy.”
Thecardsweremadeofpearl-white,textured,linenpaper,andthewordswereembossedinliquidblackitalic.TheydeclaredthatGilbertParkerwasaconsularunder-secretaryattheembassyoftheUnitedStatesofAmerica.
“Gilbert?”Igrunted.
“Sowhat?”
“So,thistaxicrashes,andtheygougemybodyoutofthewreckage,wearingtheseclothes,andtheyidentifymeasGilbert.
I’mnotfeelinganybetteraboutthis,Karla,Ihavetosay.”
“Well,you’llhavetosettleforGilbertatthemoment.TherereallyisaGilbertParkerattheembassy.HistourofdutyinBombayfinishestoday.That’swhywepickedhim-hegoesbacktotheStatestonight.Soeverythingwillcheckoutokay.Idon’tthinkshe’llbecheckinguponyoutoomuch,anyway.Maybeaphonecall,butshemightnotevendothat.Ifshewantstogetintouchwithyou,she’lldoitthroughme.ShehadsometroublewiththeBritishembassylastyear.Itcostherplenty.AndaGermandiplomatgotintoarealmessatthePalaceafewmonthsago.Shehadtocallinalotofduestocoverthatup.Theembassiesaretheonlypeoplewhocanreallyhurther,soshewon’tbepushingit.Justbepoliteandfirmwhenyouspeaktoher.AndspeaksomeHindi.She’llexpectit.Andit’llsmoothoveranytroublewithyouraccent.
That’soneofthereasonswhyIaskedyoutohelpmewiththis,youknow?You’vepickedupalotofHindi,forsomeonewho’sonlybeenhereayear.”
“Fourteenmonths,”Icorrectedher,feelingslightedbyhershorterestimate.“TwomonthswhenIfirstgottoBombay,sixmonthsinPrabaker’svillage,andnownearlysixmonthsintheslum.Fourteenmonths.”
“Yes…okay…fourteenmonths.”
“Ithoughtno-onegottomeetthisMadameZhou,”Isaid,hopingtoshiftthepuzzled,uncomfortablefrownfromherfeatures.“Yousaidshekeptherselfhiddenaway,andnevertalkedtoanyone.”
“That’strue,butit’salittlemorecomplicatedthanthat,”
Karlareplied,softly.Ameditationofmemoriescloudedhereyesforamoment,butthensheconcentratedagainwithobviouseffort.“Shelivesonthetopfloor,andhaseverythingsheneedsupthere.Shenevergoesout.Shehastwoservantswhobringfoodandclothesandstuffuptoher.Shecanmovearoundthebuildingwithoutbeingseenbecausethere’salotofhiddenpassagewaysandstaircases.Shecanlookinonmostoftheroomsthroughtwowaymirrorsormetalairvents.Shelikestowatch.Sometimesshetalkstopeoplethroughascreen.Youcan’tseeher,butshecanseeyou.”
“Sohowdoesanyoneknowwhatshelookslike?”
“Herphotographer.”
“Herwhat?”
“Shehasphotographstakenofherself.Anewone,everymonthorso.Shegivesthemouttofavouredclients.”
“It’sprettyweird,”Imuttered,notreallyinterestedinMadameZhou,butwantingKarlatogoontalking.Iwatchedherred-pinklipsformeachword-lipsI’dkissedonlydaysbefore-andherspeakingmouthwasasublimeperformanceofperfectflesh.Shecould’vebeenreadingfromamonth-oldnewspaper,andIwould’vebeenjustasdelightedtowatchherface,hereyes,andherlipsasshetalked.“Whydoesshedoit?”
“Dowhat?”sheasked,hereyesnarrowingwiththequestion.
“Whydoesshehideherselfawaylikethat?”
“Idon’tthinkanyoneknows.”Shetookouttwobeedies,litthem,andgavemeone.Herhandsappearedtobetrembling.“It’slikeIwassayingbefore-there’ssomuchcrazytalkabouther.I’veheardpeoplesayshewashorriblydisfiguredinanaccident,andshehidesherfacebecauseofit.Theysaythephotosareretouchedtocoverupthescars.I’veheardpeoplesayshehasleprosyorsomeotherdisease.Onefriendofminesaysshedoesn’texistatall.Hesaysit’sjustalie,akindofconspiracy,tohidewhoreallyrunstheplaceandwhatgoesonthere.”
“Whatdoyouthink?”
“I…I’vespokentoher,throughthescreen.Ithinkshe’ssoincredibly,psychopathicallyvainthatshe,shesortofhatesherselfforgettingolder.Ithinkshecan’tbeartobelessthanperfect.Alotofpeoplesayshewasbeautiful.Really,you’dbesurprised.Alotofpeoplesaythat.Inherphotosshehasn’tagedpasttwenty-sevenorthirty.Therearen’tanylinesorwrinkles.There’snoshadowsundertheeyes.Everyblackhairisinitsplace.Ithinkshe’ssoinlovewithherownbeauty,she’llneverletanyoneseeherasshereallyis.Ithinkshe’s…it’slikeshe’smadwithloveforherself.Ithinkthatevenifshelivestobeninety,thosemonthlyphotoswillstillshowthatsamethirty-year-oldblank.”
“Howdoyouknowsomuchabouther?”Iasked.“Howdidyoumeether?”
“I’mafacilitator.Itwaspartofmyjob.”
“Thatdoesn’ttellmealot.”
“Howmuchdoyouneedtoknow?”
Itwasasimplequestion,andtherewasasimpleanswer-Iloveyou,andIwanttoknoweverything-buttherewasahardedgetohervoiceandacoldlightinhereyes,andIfaltered.
“I’mnottryingtopry,Karla.Ididn’tknowitwassuchatouchyarea.I’veknownyouformorethanayearand,okay,Ihaven’tseenyoueveryday,oreveneverymonth,butI’veneveraskedyouwhatyoudo,orhowyoumakeyourliving.Idon’tthinkthatqualifiesmeasthenoseytype.”
“Iputpeopletogether,”shesaid,relaxingalittle,“andImakesurethey’rehavingtherightamountoffuntosealadeal.Igetpaidtokeeppeopleinthedeal-makingmood,andgivethemwhattheywant.Someofthem-quiteafewofthem,asithappens-wanttospendtimeatMadameZhou’sPalace.Therealquestioniswhypeoplearesocrazyabouther.She’sdangerous.Ithinkshe’scompletelyinsane.Butpeoplewoulddoalmostanythingtomeether.”
“Whatdoyouthink?”
Shesighed,exasperated.
“Ican’ttellyou.It’snotjustthesexthing.Sure,theprettiestforeigngirlsinBombayworkforher,andshetrainstheminsomeveryweirdspecialties,butpeoplewouldstillcometoherevenifthereweren’tanygorgeousgirlsthere.Idon’tgetit.I’vedonewhatpeoplewant,andI’vetakenthemtothePalace.Afewofthemevengottomeetherinperson,likeIdid,throughthescreen,butI’veneverbeenabletofigureitout.TheycomeoutofthePalacelikethey’vehadanaudiencewithJoanofArc.
They’rehighonit.Butnotme.Shegivesmethecreeps,andshealwayshas.”
“Youdon’tlikehermuch,doyou?”
“It’sworsethanthat.Ihateher,Lin.Ihateher,andIwishshewasdead.”
Itwasmyturntowithdraw.Iwrappedthesilencearoundmyselflikeascarf,andstaredpasthersoftlysculpturedprofiletothehaphazardbeautyofthestreet.Intruth,MadameZhou’smysterydidn’tmattertome.Ihadnointerestinher,then,beyondthemissionKarlahadgivenme.IwasinlovewiththebeautifulSwisswomansittingbesidemeinthecab,andshewasmysteriousenough.Iwantedtoknowabouther.IwantedtoknowhowshecametoliveinBombay,andwhatherconnectionwastotheweirdnessofMadameZhou,andwhyshenevertalkedaboutherself.ButnomatterhowbadlyIwantedtoknow…everything…everythingabouther,Icouldn’tpressit.IhadnorighttoaskformorebecauseI’dkeptallofmysecretsfromher.I’dliedtoher,sayingthatIcamefromNewZealand,andthatIhadnofamily.Ihadn’teventoldhermyrealname.AndbecauseIwasinlovewithher,Ifelttrappedbythosefictions.She’dkissedme,anditwasgood;honestandgood.ButIdidn’tknowifthetruthinthatkisswasthebeginningforusortheend.Mystrongesthopewasthatthemissionwouldbringustogether.Ihopeditwouldbeenoughtobreakthroughbothourwallsofsecretsandlies.
Ididn’tunderestimatethetaskshe’dsetforme.Iknewitmightgowrong,andImighthavetofighttobringLisaoutofthePalace.Iwasready.Therewasaknifeinaleatherscabbardtuckedintothewaistbandofmytrousersundermyshirt.Ithadalong,heavy,sharpblade.IknewthatwithagoodknifeIcouldhandletwomen.I’dfoughtmeninknifefightsbefore,inprison.
Aknife,inthehandofamanwhoknowshowtouseitandisn’tafraidtodriveitintootherhumanbodies,isstill,despiteitsancientorigin,themosteffectiveclose-orderweaponafterthegun.Sittingthereinthecab,silentandstill,Ipreparedmyselfforthefight.Alittlemovie,apreviewofthebloodshedtocome,playeditselfoutinmymind.Iwouldhavetokeepmylefthandfree,toleadordragLisaandKarlaoutofthePalace.Myrighthandwouldhavetoforceapaththroughanyresistance.Iwasn’tafraid.Iknewthatifthefightingstarted,whenthefightingstarted,Iwouldslashandpunchandstabwithoutthinking.
Thecabhadbluffeditswaythroughthestrangleoftraffic,andwepickedupspeedonthewiderstreetsnearasteepoverpass.Ablessingoffreshwindcooledus,andhairthathadbeenlankandwetwithsweatwasdryinseconds.Karlafidgeted,tossedherbeediecigaretteoutoftheopenwindow,andrifledthroughthecontentsofherpatent-leathershoulderbag.Shetookoutacigarettepacket.Itcontainedthick,ready-madejointswithtapered,twistedends.Shelitone.
“Ineedakicker,”shesaid,inhalingdeeply.Theflower-leafscentofhashishblossomedinthecab.Shetookafewpuffs,andthenofferedthejointtome.
“Doyouthinkit’llhelp?”
“Probablynot.”
Itwasstrong,Kashmirihash.Ifeltthemomentarylooseningofstomach,neck,andshouldermusclesasthestonetookhold.Thedriversniffedloudly,theatrically,adjustinghismirrortoseethebackseatmoreclearly.IgavethejointbacktoKarla.Shesuckedatitafewmoretimes,andthenpassedittothedriver
“Charraspitta?”sheasked.Yousmokecharras?
“Ha,munta!”hesaid,laughingandacceptingithappily.Sayyes!
Hesmokedithalfwaydown,andpasseditback.“_Achaa_charras!
Firstnumber.IhaveitAm’rikanmusic,disco,veryfirstnumberUnitedStatesAm’rikanmusicdisco.Youlikeyouhear.”
Hesnappedacassetteintohisdashboardplayerandthrewthevolumetomaximum.Secondslater,thesongWeAreFamily,bySisterSledge,thumpedoutofthespeakersbehindourheadswithnumbingplangency.Karlawhoopedforjoy.Thedriverswitchedthevolumetozero,andaskedifwelikedit.Karlawhoopedagain,andpassedhimthejoint.Heturnedthemusicbacktomax.Wesmoked,andsangalong,anddrovepastathousandyearsofstreet,frombarefootpeasantboysonbullockcartstobusinessmenbuyingcomputers.
WithinsightofthePalace,thedriverpulledoverbesideanopenchaishop.Hepointedtoit,withajerkofhisthumb,andtoldKarlathathewouldwaitforherthere.Iknewenoughcabdrivers,andhadtravelledenoughinBombaycabs,toknowthatthedriver’soffertowaitwasadecentgestureofconcernforher,andnotjusthungerforworkortipsorsomethingelse.Helikedher.I’dseenitbefore,thatquirkyandspontaneousinfatuation.Karlawasyoungandattractive,sure,butmostofthedriver’sreactionwasinspiredbyherfluencywithhislanguage,andthewaysheusedittodealwithhim.AGermancabdrivermightbepleasedthataforeignerhadlearnedtospeakGerman.Hemightevensaythathewaspleased.Orsaynothingatall.ThesamemightbetrueofaFrenchcabdriver,oranAmerican,oranAustralian.
ButanIndianwillbesopleasedthatifhelikessomethingelseaboutyou-youreyes,oryoursmile,orthewayyoureacttoabeggaratthewindowofhiscab-he’llfeelbondedtoyou,instantly.He’llbepreparedtodothingsforyou,gooutofhisway,puthimselfatrisk,andevendodangerousorillegalthings.Ifyou’vegivenhimanaddresshedoesn’tlike,suchasthePalace,he’llbepreparedtowaitforyou,justtobesurethatyou’resafe.Youcouldcomeoutanhourlater,andignorehimcompletely,andhewouldsmileanddriveaway,happytoknowthatnoharmhadcometoyou.IthappenedtomemanytimesinBombay,butneverinanyothercity.It’soneofthefivehundredthingsIloveaboutIndians:iftheylikeyou,theydoitquickly,andnotbyhalf.Karlapaidhisfareandthepromisedtip,andtoldhimnottowait.Webothknewthathewould.
ThePalacewasahugebuilding,triple-frontedandthreestoriestall.Thestreetwindowswerebarredwithwrought-ironcurlicuesbeatenintotheshapeofacanthusleaves.Itwasolderthanmanyotherbuildingsonthestreet,andrestored,notrenovated.
Originaldetailhadbeencarefullypreserved.Theheavystonearchitravesoverthedoorandwindowshadbeenchiselledintocoronetsoffive-pointedstars.Thatmeticulouscraftsmanship,oncecommoninthecity,wasallbutalostart.Therewasanalleywayontheright-handsideofthebuilding,andthestonemasonshadlavishedtheirhandiworkonthequoin-everysecondstonefromthegroundtobelowtheeaveswasfacetedlikeajewel.Aglassed-inbalconyranthewidthofthethirdfloor,theroomswithinconcealedbybambooblinds.Thewallsofthebuildingweregrey,thedoorblack.Tomysurprise,thedoorsimplyopenedwhenKarlatouchedit,andwesteppedinside.Weenteredalong,coolcorridor,darkerthanthesunlitstreetbutsoftlyilluminatedbylily-shapedlampsofflutedglass.
Therewaswallpaper-veryunusualinhumidBombay-withtherepetitiveComptonpatternofWilliamMorrisinolivegreenandfleshpinks.Asmellofincenseandflowerspermeated,andtheeerie,paddedsilencesofclosedroomssurroundedus.
Amanwasstandinginthehallway,facingus,withhishandslooselyclaspedinfrontofhim.Hewastallandthin.Hisfine,darkbrownhairwaspulledbackseverelyandtiedintoalongplaitthatreachedtohiships.Hehadnoeyebrows,butverythickeyelashes,sothickthatIthoughttheymustbefalse.Somedesigns,inswirlsandscrolls,weredrawnonhispalefacefromhislipstohispointedchin.Hewasdressedinablack,silkkurta-pyjamaandclearplasticsandals
“Hello,Rajan,”Karlagreetedhim,icily.
“RamRam,MissKarla,”hereplied,usingtheHindugreeting.Hisvoicewasasneeringhiss.“Madamewillseeyouimmediately.Youaretogostraightup.Iwillbringcolddrinks.Youknowtheway.”
Hestoodtooneside,andgesturedtowardsthestairsattheendofthehall.Thefingersofhisoutstretchedhandwerestainedwithhennastencils.TheywerethelongestfingersI’deverseen.
Aswewalkedpasthim,Isawthatthescrolleddesignsonhislowerlipandchinwereactuallytattoos.
“Rajaniscreepyenough,”Imuttered,asKarlaandIclimbedthestairstogether
“He’soneofMadameZhou’stwopersonalservants.He’saeunuch,acastrato,andalotcreepierthanhelooks,”shewhisperedenigmatically.
Weclimbedthewidestairstothesecondfloor,ourfootstepsswallowedbythickcarpetandheavyteakwoodnewelsandhandrails.Therewereframedphotographsandpaintingsonthewalls,allofthemportraits.AsIpassedthoseimages,Ihadthesensethattherewereotherliving,breathingpeopleintheclosedrooms,allaroundus.Buttherewasnosound.Nothing.
“It’sdamnquiet,”Isaidaswestoppedinfrontofoneofthedoors.
“It’ssiestatime.Everyafternoon,fromtwotofive.Butit’squieterthanusualbecauseshe’sexpectingyou.Areyouready?”
“Iguess.Yes.”
“Let’sdoit.”Sheknockedtwice,turnedtheknobandweentered.Therewasnothinginthesmall,squarespacebutthecarpetonthefloor,lacecurtainsdrawnacrossthewindow,andtwolarge,flatcushions.Karlatookmyarmandsteeredmetowardthecushions.
Thehalf-lightoflateafternoonglowedthroughthecreamcolouredlace.Thewallswerebareandpaintedtan-brown,andtherewasametalgrille,aboutametresquare,setintooneofthemjustabovetheskirtingboard.Wekneltonthecushionsinfrontofthegrilleasifwe’dcometomakeourconfession.
“Iamnothappywithyou,Karla,”avoicesaidfrombehindthegrille.Startled,Ipeeredintothelatticeofmetal,buttheroombeyonditwasblackandIcouldseenothing.Sittingthere,inthegloom,shewasinvisible.MadameZhou.“Idonotliketobeunhappy.Youknowthat.”
“Happinessisamyth,”Karlasnappedbackangrily.“Itwasinventedtomakeusbuythings.”
MadameZhoulaughed.Itwasagurgling,bronchiallaugh.Itwasthekindoflaughthathunteddownfunnythings,andkilledthemstonedead.
“Ah,Karla,Karla,Imissyou.Butyouneglectme.Itreallyhasbeenmuchtoolongsinceyouvisitedme.IthinkyoustillblamemeforwhathappenedtoAhmedandChristina,eventhoughyouswearitisnotso.HowcanIbelievethatyoudonotholdagrudgeagainstme,whenyouneglectmesoterribly?Andnowyouwanttotakemyfavouriteawayfromme.”
“It’sherfatherwhowantstotakeher,Madame,”Karlareplied,alittlemoregently.
“Ahyes,thefather…”
Shesaidthewordasifitwasadespicableinsult.Hervoiceraspedthewordacrossourskin.Ithadtakenalotofcigarettes,smokedinaparticularlyspitefulmanner,tomakethatvoice.
“Yourdrinks,MissKarla,”Rajansaid,andIalmostjumped.He’dcomeinbehindmewithoutmakingtheslightestsound.Hebentlowtoplaceatrayonthefloorbetweenus,andforamomentIstaredintothelambentblacknessofhiseyes.Hisfacewasimpassive,buttherewasnomistakingtheemotioninthoseeyes.
Itwascold,naked,incomprehensiblehatred.Iwasmesmerisedbyit,bewildered,andstrangelyashamed.
“ThisisyourAmerican,”MadameZhousaid,breakingthespell.
“Yes,Madame.HisnameisParker,GilbertParker.Heisattachedtotheembassy,butthisisnotanofficialvisit,ofcourse.”
“Ofcourse.GiveRajanyourcard,Mr.Parker.”
Itwasacommand.ItookoneofthecardsfrommypocketandhandedittoRajan.Hehelditattheedges,asifhewasafraidofcontamination,andbackedoutoftheroom,closingthedoorbehindhim.
“Karladidnottellme,whenshetelephoned,Mr.Parker-haveyoubeeninBombayverylong?”MadameZhouaskedme,switchingtoHindi.
“Notsolong,Madame.”
“YouspeakHindiquitewell.Mycompliments.”
“Hindiisabeautifullanguage,”Ireplied,usingoneofthestockphrasesthatPrabakerhadtaughtmetorecite.“Itisalanguageofmusicandpoetry.”
“Itisalsoalanguageofloveandmoney,”shechuckledgreedily.
Areyouinlove,Mr.Parker?”
I’dthoughthardaboutwhatshemightaskme,butIhadn’tanticipatedthatquestion.Andjustatthatmoment,therewasprobablynoothersubjectthatcould’veunsettledmemore.IlookedatKarla,butshewasstaringdownatherhands,andshegavemenoclue.Ididn’tknowwhatMadameZhoumeantbythequestion.Shehadn’taskedmeifIwasmarriedorsingle,engagedorinvolved.
“Inlove?”Imumbled,thewordssoundinglikeanincantationinHindi.
“Yes,yes,romanticlove.Yourheartlostinthedreamofawoman’sface,yoursoullostinthedreamofherbody.Love,Mr.
Parker.Areyouinit?”
“Yes.Yes,Iam.”
Idon’tknowwhyIsaidit.TheimpressionthatIwasmakinganactofconfession,there,onmykneesbeforethemetalgrate,wasevenmorepronounced.
“Howverysadforyou,mydearMr.Parker.YouareinlovewithKarla,ofcourse.That’showshegotyoutodothislittlejobofworkforher.”
“Iassureyou-”
“No,Mr.Parker,Iassureyou.Oh,itmaybetruethatmyLisa’sfatherispiningforhisdaughter,andthathehasthepowertopullsomestrings.ButitwasKarlawhotalkedyouintothis-ofthat,I’mquitesure.IknowmydearKarla,andIknowherways.
Don’tthinkforamomentthatshewilleverloveyouinreturn,orkeepanyofherpromisestoyou,orthatanythingbutsorrowwillcomeoftheloveyoufeel.Shewillneverloveyou.Itellyouthisoutoffriendship,Mr.Parker.Thisisalittlegiftforyou.”
“Withrespect,”Isaid,throughclenchedteeth,“we’reheretotalkaboutLisaCarter.”
“Ofcourse.IfIletmyLisagowithyou,wherewillshelive?”
“I…I’mnotsure.”
“You’renotsure?”
“No,I…”
“Shewillliveat-”Karlabegan.
“Shutup,Karla!”MadameZhousnapped.“IaskedParker.”
“Idon’tknowwhereshewilllive,”Ianswered,asfirmlyasIcould.“Ithinkthat’suptoher.”
Therewasalengthypause.ItwasbecominganeffortofconcentrationtolistenandspeakinHindi.Ifeltlost,inovermyhead.Itwasgoingbadly.She’daskedmethreequestions,andI’dstumbledbadlyontwoofthem.Karlawasmyguideinthatstrangeworld,butsheseemedasconfusedandwrong-footedasIwas.MadameZhouhadtoldhertoshutup,andshe’dswalloweditwithameeknessI’dneverseenorevenimaginedinher.Itookaglassanddranksomeofthenimbupani.Theicedlime-juicewasspicedwithsomethinghottothetastelikechillipowder.Therewasashadowymovementandwhisperinthedarknessoftheroombehindthemetalgrate.IwonderedifRajanwasintherewithher.Icouldn’tmakeouttheshape.
Shespoke.
“YoucantakeLisawithyou,Mr.Parker-in-love.Butifshedecidestocomebackheretome,Iwillnotgiveherup.Doyouunderstandme?Shewillstayhere,ifshecomesback,andIwillbeunhappyifyoutroublemeaboutitagain.Youare,ofcourse,freetoenjoyourmanydelights,wheneveryouwish,asmyguest.
Iwouldliketoseeyou…relax.Perhaps,whenKarlaisfinishedwithyou,youwillremembermyinvitation?Inthemeantime,remember-Lisaismineifshereturnstome.Thatmatterisfinishedbetweenus,today,hereandnow.”
“Yes,yes,Iunderstand.Thankyou,Madame.”
Thereliefwasenormous.Ifeltsappedwithit.We’dwon.Itwasdone,andKarla’sfriendwasfreetocomewithus.
MadameZhoubegantospeakagain,veryquickly,andinanotherlanguage.IguessedittobeGerman.Itsoundedharshandthreateningandangry,butIcouldn’tspeakGermanthen,andthewordsmight’vebeenkinderthantheysoundedtome.KarlarespondedfromtimetotimewithJaorNat%urlichnicht,butlittleelse.Shewasrockingfromsidetoside,sittingbackonherfoldedlegs.Herhandswereinherlap.Hereyeswereclosed.AndasIwatchedher,shebegantocry.Thetears,whentheycame,slippedfromherclosedeyelidslikesomanybeadsonaprayerchain.Somewomencryeasily.Thetearsfallasgentlyasfragrantraindropsinasun-shower,andleavethefaceclearandcleanandalmostradiant.Otherwomencryhard,andallthelovelinessinthemcollapsesintheagonyofit.Karlawassuchawoman.Therewasterribleanguishwrittenintherivuletsofthosetearsandthetormentthatcreasedherface.
Frombehindthegrate,thesmokyvoicefullofspittingsibilantsandcrunchingwordscontinued.Karlaswayedandsobbedinuttersilence.Hermouthopened,andthenclosedsoundlessly.Apearlofsweattrickledfromhertempleacrossthefoldedwingofhercheek.Moresweatstippledherupperlip,dissolvinginthetears.Thentherewasnothingfrombehindthemetalgrate:nosoundormovementoreventhesenseofahumanpresence.Andwithaneffortofwillthatclenchedherjawstowhiteandsetherbodytrembling,Karlasweptherhandsoverherface,andhercryingceased.
Shewasverystill.Shereachedoutwithonehandtotouchme.
Thehandrestedonmythigh,andthenpresseddownwardwithregular,gentlepressures.Itwasthetender,reassuringgestureshemight’veusedtocalmafrightenedanimal.Shewasstaringintomyeyes,butIwasn’tsureifshewasaskingmesomethingortellingmesomething.Shebreatheddeeply,quickly.Hergreeneyeswerealmostblackintheshadowedroom.
Ididn’tunderstandanyofit.Icouldn’tunderstandtheGermanchatter,andIhadnoideawhatwasgoingonbetweenKarlaandthevoicebehindthemetalgrille.Iwantedtohelpher,butIdidn’tknowwhyshe’dcried,andIknewthatwewereprobablybeingwatched.Istoodup,andthenhelpedhertostand.Foramoment,sherestedherfaceagainstmychest.Iputmyhandsonhershoulders,steadyingherandeasingherawayfromme.Thenthedooropened,andRajancameintotheroom.
“Sheisready,”Rajanhissed.
Karlabrushedatthekneesofherloosetrousers,pickedupherbag,andsteppedpastmetowardthedoor.
“Comeon,”shesaid.“Theinterview’sover.”ForamomentIlookedatthemarks,thecurvedindentationsthatherkneeshadmadeinthebrocadecushionbesidemeonthefloor.
Ifelttiredandangryandconfused.IturnedtoseeKarlaandRajanstaringatmeimpatientlyinthedoorway.AsIfollowedthemalongthecorridorsofthePalace,Igrewmoresullenandresentfulwitheverystep.
Rajanledustoaroomattheveryendofacorridor.Thedoorwasopen.Theroomwasdecoratedwithlargemovieposters-LaurenBacallinastillfromToHaveAndHaveNot,PierAngelifromSomebodyUpThereLikesMe,andSeanYoungfromBladeRunner.Ayoungandverybeautifulwomansatonthelargebedinthecentreoftheroom.Herblondehairwaslongandthick,endinginspiralsoflushcurls.Hersky-blueeyeswerelargeandsetunusuallywideapart.Herskinwasflawlesspink,herlipspaintedadeepred.Asuitcaseandacosmeticcaseweresnappedshutandrestingonthefloorathergolden-slipperedfeet.
“Aboutfuckingtime.You’relate.I’mgoingouttamymindhere.”
Itwasadeepvoice.TheaccentwasCalifornian.
“Gilberthadtochangehisclothes,”Karlareplied,withsomethingofherfamiliarcomposure.“Andthetraffic,gettinghere-youdon’twanttoknow.”
“Gilbert?”Hernosewrinkledwithdistaste.
“It’salongstory,”Isaid,notsmiling.“Areyoureadytogo?”
“Idon’tknow,”shesaid,lookingatKarla.
“Youdon’tknow?”
“Hey,fuck_you,Jack!”sheexploded,roundingonmewithsomuchfurythatIdidn’tseethefearbehindit.“Whatthehellbusinessisitofyours,anyway?”
There’saspecialangerwereserveforpeoplewhowon’tletusdothemagoodturn.Myteethbegantogrindwithit.
“Look,areyoucomingornot?”
“Didshesayit’sokay?”LisaaskedKarla.BothwomenlookedtoRajan,andthentothemirroronthewallbehindhim.TheirexpressionstoldmethatMadameZhouwaswatchingus,andlistening,aswespoke.
“It’sfine.Shesaidyoucango,”Itoldher,hopingshewouldn’tcommentonmyimperfectAmericanaccent.
“Isthisforreal?Nobullshit?”
“Nobullshit,”Karlasaid.
Thegirlstoodupquicklyandgrabbedatherbags.“Well,what’rewewaitingfor?Let’sgetthefuckouttaherebeforeshechangeshergoddamnmind.”
Rajanstoppedmeatthestreetdoor,andgavemealarge,sealedenvelope.Hestaredthatperplexingmaliceintomyeyesoncemore,andthenclosedthedoor.IcaughtuptoKarlaandpulledherroundtofaceme.
“Whatwasthatallabout?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”sheasked,alittlesmiletryingtolighthereyes.“Itworked.Wegotherout.”
“I’mnottalkingaboutthat.I’mtalkingaboutyouandme,andthatcrazygameMadameZhouwasplayingupthere.Youwerecryingyoureyesout,Karla-whatwasitallabout?”
SheglancedatLisa,whostoodcloseby,impatientandshieldinghereyes,eventhoughthelate-afternoonlightwasn’tbright.Shelookedatmeagain,hergreeneyespuzzledandtired.
“Dowehavetotalkaboutthisnow,inpublic?”
“No,wedon’t!”Lisaansweredforme.
“I’mnottalkingtoyou,”Isnarled,notlookingather.MyeyeswerefixedonKarla’sface.
“You’renottalkingtome,either,”Karlasaidfirmly.“Nothere.
Notnow.Let’sjustgo.”
“Whatisthis?”Idemanded.
“You’reover-reacting,Lin.”
“I’mover-reacting!”Isaid,almostshouting,andprovingherright.Iwasangrythatshe’dtoldmesolittleofthetruth,andpreparedmesopoorlyfortheinterview.Iwashurtthatshedidn’ttrustmeenoughtogivemethewholestory.“That’sfunny,that’sreallyfunny.”
“Whoisthisfuckingjerk?”Lisasnarled.
“Shutup,Lisa.”Karlasaid,justasMadameZhouhadsaidittoher,onlyminutesbefore.LisareactedjustasKarlahad,withmeek,sullensilence.
“Idon’twanttotalkaboutthisnow,Lin,”Karlasaid,turningtomewithanexpressionofhard,reluctantdisappointment.Therearefewthingspeoplecandowiththeireyesthathurtmore,andIhatedtoseeit.Passers-bystoppednearusonthestreet,staringandeavesdroppingopenly.
“Look,Iknowthere’salotmoregoingonherethangettingLisaoutofthePalace.Whathappenedupthere?Howdidshe…youknow,howdidsheknowaboutus?I’msupposedtobesomeguyfromtheembassy,andshestartstalkingaboutbeinginlovewithyou.Idon’tgetit.
AndwhothehellareAhmedandChristina?Whathappenedtothem?
Whatwasshetalkingabout?Oneminuteyou’reindestructible,andthenthenextminuteyou’rebreakingdown,whileMadameNutcaseisbabblingawayinGermanorwhatever.”
“ItwasSwiss-German,actually,”shesnapped,aflashofspiteinthegleamofherclenchedteeth.
“Swiss,Chinese,sowhat?Ijustwanttoknowwhat’sgoingon.Iwanttohelpyou.Iwanttoknow…well,whereIstand.”
Afewmorepeoplestoppedtojointheidlers.Onegroupofthreeyoungmenstoodveryclose,leaningononeanother’sshouldersandgawkingwithaggressivecuriosity.Thetaxidriverwho’dbroughtustherewasstandingbesidehiscab,fivemetresaway.
Hetwirledhishandkerchieftofanhimself,watchingus,smiling.
HewasmuchtallerthanI’dthoughthimtobe;tallandthinanddressedinatightlyfittingwhiteshirtandtrousers.Karlaglancedoverhershoulderathim.Hewipedathismoustachewiththeredhandkerchief,andthentieditasascarfaroundhisneck.Hesmiledather.Hisstrong,whiteteethweregleaming.
“Whereyou’restandingisrighthere,onthestreet,outsidethePalace,”Karlasaid.Shewasangryandsadandstrong-strongerthanIwasatthatmoment.Ialmosthatedherforit.“WhereI’msittingisinthatcab.WhereI’mgoingisnoneofyourdamnbusiness.”
Shewalkedaway.
“Wherethehelldidyougetthatguy?”IheardLisasay,astheyapproachedthecab.
Thetaxidrivergreetedthem,wagglinghisheadhappily.Whentheydrovepastme,therewasmusicplaying,FreewayofLove,andtheywerelaughing.ForoneexplosivemomentofwrithingfantasyIsawthemalltogether,naked,thetaxidriverandLisaandKarla.ItwasimprobableandridiculousandIknewit,butthesquirmwasinmymind,andawhite-hotthumpofragewentpulsingalongthethreadoftimeandfatethatconnectedmetoKarla.
ThenIrememberedthatI’dleftmybootsandclothesatherapartment.
“Hey!”Icalledaftertheretreatingcab.“Myclothes!Karla!”
“Mr.Lin?”
Therewasamanstandingbesideme.Hisfacewasfamiliar,butIcouldn’tplaceitimmediately.“What?”
“AbdelKhaderwantyou,Mr.Lin.”
ThementionofKhader’snamejoltedmymemory.ItwasNazeer,Khaderbhai’sdriver.Thewhitecarwasparkednearby.
“How…howdidyou…whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Hesayyoucomenow.Iamdriving.”Hegesturedtowardthecar,andtooktwolittlestepstoencourageme.
“Idon’tthinkso,Nazeer.It’sbeenalongday.YoucantellKhaderbhaithat-”
“Hesayyoucomenow,”Nazeersaidgrimly.Hewasn’tsmiling,andIhadthefeelingthatIwouldhavetofighthimifIwantedtoavoidgettingintothecar.Iwassoangryandconfusedandtired,justthen,thatIactuallyconsidereditforamoment.Itmightcostlessenergy,inthelongrun,tofightwithhim,Ithought,thantogowithhim.ButNazeerscrewedhisfaceintoagonisedconcentration,andspokewithunaccustomedcourtesy.
“Khaderbhaitoldit-_youcome,please-likethat,Khaderbhaitoldit-Pleasecomeseeme,Mr.Lin.”
Thewordpleasedidn’tsitwellwithhim.Itwasclearthat,inhisview,lordAbdelKhaderKhangaveordersthatothersquicklyandgratefullyobeyed.Buthe’dbeentoldtorequestmycompany,ratherthancommandit,andtheEnglishwordshe’djustspokenwithsuchvisibleefforthadbeencarefullymemorised.Ipicturedhimdrivingacrossthecityandrepeatingtheincantationoftheforeignwordstohimself,asuncomfortableandunhappywiththemasiftheywerefragmentsofprayerfromanotherman’sreligion.
Alientohimornot,thewordshadtheireffectonme,andhelookedrelievedwhenIsmiledasurrender.
“Okay,Nazeer,okay,”Isighed.“We’llgotoseeKhaderbhai.”
Hebegantoopenthebackdoorofthecar,butIinsistedonsittinginthefront.Assoonaswepulledawayfromthekerb,heswitchedontheradioandturnedthevolumetohigh,perhapstopreventconversation.TheenvelopethatRajanhadgivenmewasstillinmyhands,andIturneditovertoexaminebothsides.Itwashand-madepaper,pink,andaboutthesizeofamagazinecover.Therewasnothingwrittenontheoutside.Itorethecornerandopenedittofindablack-and-whitephotograph.Itwasaninteriorshotofaroom,half-lit,andfilledwithexpensiveornamentsfromavarietyofagesandcultures.Inthemidstofthatself-consciousclutter,awomansatonathrone-likechair.
Shewasdressedinaneveninggownofextravagantlengththatspilledtothefloorandconcealedherfeet.Onehandrestedonanarmofthechair.
Theotherwaspoisedinaregalwaveoranelegantgestureofdismissal.Thehairwasdarkandelaboratelycoifed,fallinginringletsthatframedherroundandsomewhatplumpface.Thealmond-shapedeyesstaredstraightintothecamera.Theyworeafaintlyneuroticlookofstartledindignation.Thelipsofhertinymouthwerepinchedinadeterminedpoutthatpulledatherweakchin.
Abeautifulwoman?Ididn’tthinkso.Andarangeoflessthanlovelyimpressionsstaredfromthatface-haughty,spiteful,frightened,spoiled,self-obsessed.Thephotographsaidshewasallofthosethings,andmore.Andworse.Buttherewassomethingelseonthephotograph,somethingmorerepugnantandchillingthantheunlovelyface.Itwasthemessageshe’dchosentostampinred,blockletters,acrossthebottom.Itsaid:MADAMEZHOUIS
HAPPYNOW.
____________________
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
“Comein,comein,Mr.Lin.No,please,sithere.Wehavebeenexpectingyou.”AbdelKhaderwavedmetoaplaceathislefthand.Ikickedoffmyshoesatthedoorway,whereseveralotherpairsofsandalsandshoeshadbeendiscarded,andsatdownontheplush,brocadecushionhe’dindicated.Itwasalargeroom-nineofus,seatedinacircleaboutalowmarbletable,occupiednomorethanacornerofit.Thefloorwassurfacedwithsmooth,cream,pentagonaltiles.AsquareofIsfahancarpetcoveredthetilesinourpartoftheroom.Thewallsandvaultedceilingfeaturedamosaicofpaleblueandwhiteminiatures,presentingtheeffectofaskywithdriftsofcloud.Twoopenarchesconnectedtheroomtowidepassageways.Threepicture-seatwindowsoverlookedapalm-filledcourtyard.Theywereallframedwithsculpturedpillarsandtoppedwithminaret-shapeddomesinscribedwithArabiclettering.Thespill,splash,andstirofwaterinacascadefountaincametousfrombeyondthosewindows,somewhereinthecourtyard.
Itwasaroomofdiligentlyausteresplendour.Theonlyfurniturewasthelowmarbletableandourninecushionsevenlyarrangedaroundthecarpet.Theonlydecorationwasaframedblackandgold-leafdepictionoftheKaabaatMecca.Theeightmenwhosatorreclinedthereseemedcomfortableinthatinornatesimplicity,however,andcertainlytheywerefreetochooseanystylethattheywanted,fortherewasthewealthandpowerofasmallempirebetweenthem:anempireofcrime.
“Areyoufeelingquiterefreshed,Mr.Lin?”Khaderbhaiasked.
WhenI’darrivedatthebuildingbesidetheNabilaMosque,inDongri,Nazeerhadshownmeatoncetoalarge,well-appointedbathroom,whereI’dusedthetoiletandthenwashedmyfaceandhands.Bombay,inthoseyears,wasthemostvoluptuouslydirtycityintheworld.Itwasn’tonlyhotandcloyinglyhumid:intheeightrainlessmonthsoftheyearitwasconstantlyaswirlwithgrimydustcloudsthatsettledonandsmearedeveryexposedsurfacewithacatholicvarietyoffilths.
IfIwipedmyfacewithahandkerchiefafteronlyhalfanhour’swalkalonganystreet,theclothwasstreakedwithblack.
“Thankyou,yes.Ifelttired,whenIarrived,butnowI’mrevivedbyacombinationofpolitenessandplumbing.”IwasspeakinginHindi,anditwasastruggletocarrythehumour,sense,andgoodintentionsinthesmallphrase.Wecan’treallyknowwhatapleasureitistoruninourownlanguageuntilwe’reforcedtostumbleinsomeoneelse’s.ItwasagreatreliefwhenKhaderbhaispokeinEnglish.
“PleasespeakEnglish,Mr.Lin.Iamveryhappythatyouarelearningourlanguages,buttodaywewouldliketopractiseyours.EachofusherecanspeakandreadandwriteEnglish,tosomeextent.Inmyowncase,IhavebeeneducatedinEnglish,aswellasinHindiandUrdu.Infact,IoftenfindmyselfthinkingfirstinEnglish,beforeotherlanguages.Mydearfriend,Abdul,sittingnearyou,wouldcallEnglishhisfirstlanguage,Ithink.
Andallofus,nomatterwhatourleveloflearning,areenthusiasticaboutthestudyofEnglish.Itisacriticalthingforus.OneofthereasonswhyIaskedyoutocomehere,thisevening,wassothatwemightenjoythespeakingofEnglishwithyou,anativeofthelanguage.Thisisourmonthlydiscussionnight,yousee,andourlittlegrouptalksabout-butwait,letmefirstintroduceyou.”
Hereachedovertolayanaffectionatehandonthebulkyforearmoftheheavy-set,elderlymanwhosatonhisright.HewasdressedinthegreenpantaloonsandlongtunicofAfghantraditionaldress.
“ThisisSobhanMahmoud-letususefirstnames,afterourintroductions,Lin,forweareallfriendshere,yes?”
Sobhanwaggedhisgrizzled,greyheadatmeingreeting,fixingmewithalookofsteelyenquiry,perhapstomakesurethatIunderstoodthehonourimpliedintheuseoffirstnames.
“TheveryampleandsmilinggentlemannexttohimismyoldfriendfromPeshawar,AbdulGhani.NexttohimisKhaledAnsari,originallyfromPalestine.Rajubhai,nexttohim,isfromtheholycityofVaranasi-haveyouseenit?No?Well,youmustmakethetimetodosobeforetoolong.”
Rajubhai,abald,thick-setmanwithaneat,greymoustache,smiledinresponsetoKhaderbhai’sintroduction,andturnedtomewithhishandsjoinedtogetherinasilentgreeting.Hiseyes,abovethegentlesteepleofhisfingers,werehardandwary.
“NexttoourdearRaju,”Khaderbhaicontinued,“isKekiDorabjee,whocametoBombayfromZanzibar,withotherIndianParsees,twentyyearsago,whentheyweredrivenfromtheislandbythenationalistmovement.”
Dorabjee,averytall,thinmaninhismiddlefifties,turnedhisdarkeyesonme.HisexpressionseemedfixedinsuchdistressingmelancholythatIfeltcompelledtoofferhimasmall,comfortingsmileinreturn.
“NexttoourbrotherKekiisFarid.Heistheyoungestofourgroup,andtheonlyoneofuswhoisanativeMaharashtrian,byvirtueofbeingborninBombay,althoughhisfamilycameherefromGujarat.SittingnexttoyouisMadjid,whowasborninTeheran,buthaslivedhere,inourcity,formorethantwentyyears.”
Ayoungservantenteredwithatrayofglassesandasilverpotofblacktea.Heservedus,beginningwithKhaderbhaiandendingwithme.Helefttheroom,returnedmomentarilytoplacetwobowlsofladooandbarfisweetsonthetable,andthenleftusoncemore.
Immediatelyafterward,threemenjoinedusintheroom,makingaplaceforthemselvesonanotherpatchofcarpetthatwasnear,butalittleapartfromus.Theywereintroducedtome-AndrewFerreira,aGoan,andSalmanMustaanandSanjayKumar,bothfromBombay-butfromthatmomenttheyneverspokeagain.Theywere,itseemed,younggangstersonthenextrungbelowcouncilmembership:invitedtolistenatthemeetings,butnottospeak.
Andtheydidlisten,veryattentively,whilewatchingusclosely.
Iturned,often,tofindtheireyesonme,staringoutfromthekindofgraveappraisalI’dcometoknowtoowellinprison.Theyweredecidingwhethertotrustmeornot,andhowharditwouldbe-asapurelyprofessionalspeculation-tokillme,withoutagun.
“Lin,weusuallytalkaboutsomethemes,atourdiscussionnights,”AbdulGhanisaidinaclipped,BBC-accentedEnglish,“butfirstwewouldliketoaskyouwhatyoumakeofthis.”
Hereachedacross,pushingtowardmearolledposterthatwaslyingonthetable.Iopeneditoutandreadthroughthefourparagraphsoflarge,boldtypeface.
SAPNA
PeopleofBombay,listentothevoiceofyourKing.YourdreamiscometoyouandIamhe,Sapna,KingofDreams,KingofBlood.Yourtimeiscome,mychildren,andyourchainsofsufferingwillbeliftedfromyou.
Iamcome.Iamthelaw.Myfirstcommandmentistoopenyoureyes.Iwantyoutoseeyourhungerwhiletheywastefood.Iwantyoutoseeyourragswhiletheywearsilk.Seethatyouliveinthegutterwhiletheyliveinpalacesofmarbleandgold.Mysecondcommandmentistokillthemall.Dothiswithcruelviolence
Dothisinmemoryofme,Sapna.Iamthelaw.
Therewasmore,alotmore,allofitinthesamevein.Itstruckmeasabsurdatfirst,andIstartedtosmile.Thesilenceintheroomandthestaresoftenseconcentrationtheyturnedonmestifledthesmiletoagrimace.Theytookitveryseriously,Irealised.Stallingfortime,becauseIdidn’tknowwhatGhaniwantedfromme,Ireadthroughtheranting,insanetractagain.
WhileIreadthewords,IrememberedthatsomeonehadpaintedthenameSapnaonthewallattheVillageintheSky,twenty-threefloorsofftheground.IrememberedwhatPrabakerandJohnnyCigarhadsaidaboutbrutalmurdersdoneinSapna’sname.Thecontinuingsilenceandexpectantseriousnessintheroomfilledmewithachillofmenace.Thehairsonmyarmstingledwithit,andacaterpillarofsweatincheddownthegrooveofmyspine.
“Well,Lin?”
“Sorry?”
“Whatdoyoumakeofit?”
ThestillnesswassocompletethatIcouldhearmyselfswallowing.Theywantedmetogivethemsomething,andtheyexpectedittobegood.
“Idon’tknowwhattosay.Imean,it’ssoridiculous,sofatuous,it’shardtotakeitseriously.”
Madjidgrunted,andclearedhisthroatloudly.Hedrewhisthickblackeyebrowsdownoverathickblackscowl.
“Ifyoucallcuttingamanfromthegrointothethroat,andthenleavinghisorgansandhislife’sbloodallaroundhishouseserious,thenitisaseriousmatter.”
“Sapnadidthat?”
“Hisfollowersdidit,Lin,”AbdulGhaniansweredforhim.“That,andatleastsixmoremurderslikeit,inthelastmonth.Somewereevenmorehideouskillings.”
“I’veheardpeopletalkingaboutSapna,butIthoughtitwasjustastory,likeanurbanlegend.Ihaven’treadanythingaboutitinanyofthenewspapers,andIreadthemeveryday.”
“Thismatterisbeinghandledinthemostcarefulway,”
Khaderbhaiexplained.“Thegovernmentandthepolicehaveaskedforco-operationfromthenewspapers.Theyhavebeenreportedasunrelatedthings,asdeathsthathappenedduringsimple,unconnectedrobberies.ButweknowthatSapna’sfollowershavecommittedthem,becausethebloodofthevictimswasusedtowritethewordSapnaonthewallsandthefloors.Anddespitetheterribleviolenceoftheattacks,notmuchofanyrealvaluewasstolenfromthevictims.Fornow,thisSapnadoesnotofficiallyexist.Butitisonlyamatteroftimebeforeeveryoneknowsofhim,andofwhathasbeendoneinhisname.”
“Andyou…youdon’tknowwhoheis?”
“Weareveryinterestedinhim,Lin,”Khaderbhaianswered.“Whatdoyouthinkaboutthisposter?Ithasbeenseeninmanymarketsandhutments,anditiswritteninEnglish,asyousee.Yourlanguage.”
Isensedavaguehintofaccusationinthoselasttwowords.
AlthoughIhadnothingwhatsoevertodowithSapnaandknewalmostnothingabouthim,myfacereddenedwiththatspecialguiltyblushofthecompletelyinnocentman.
“Idon’tknow.Idon’tthinkIcanhelpyouwiththis.”
“Comenow,Lin,”AbdulGhanichided.“Theremustbesomeimpressions,somethoughts,thatoccurtoyou.Thereisnocommitmenthere.Don’tbeshy.Justsaythefirstthingsthatcometoyourmind.”
“Well,”Ibeganreluctantly,“thefirstthingis,IthinkthatthisSapna-orwhoeverwrotethisposter-maybeaChristian.”
“AChristian!”Khaledlaughed.Hewasayoungman,perhapsthirty-five,withshortdarkhairandsoftgreeneyes.Athickscarsweptina”smoothcurvefromhislefteartothecornerofhismouth,stiffeningthatsideofhisface.Hisdarkhairwasstreakedwithprematurewhiteandgrey.Itwasanintelligent,sensitiveface,morescarredbyitsangerandhatredsthanitwasbytheknife-woundonhischeek.“They’resupposedto_lovetheirenemies,notdisembowelthem!”
“Lethimfinish,”Khaderbhaismiled.“Goon,Lin.WhatmakesyouthinkSapnaisaChristianfellow?”
“Ididn’tsaySapnaisaChristian-justthatwhoeverwrotethisstuffisusingChristianwordsandphrases.See,here,inthefirstpart,wherehesaysIamcome…and…Dothisinmemoryofme-thosewordscanbefoundintheBible.Andhere,inthethirdparagraph…Iamthetruthintheirworldoflies,Iamthelightintheirdarknessofgreed,mywayofbloodisyourfreedom-he’sparaphrasingsomething…IamtheWayandtheTruthandthe_Light…andit’salsointheBible.Theninthelastlines,hesays…
Blessedarethekillers,fortheyshallsteallivesinmyname-that’sfromtheSermonontheMount.It’sallbeentakenfromtheBible,andthere’sprobablymoreinherethatIdon’trecognise.
Butit’sallbeenchangedaround,it’sasthoughthisguy,whoeverwrotethisstuff,hastakenbitsoftheBible,andwrittenitupsidedown.”
“Upsidedown?Explainplease?”Madjidasked.
“Imean,it’sagainsttheideasofthewordsintheBible,butusesthesamekindoflanguage.He’swrittenittohaveexactlytheoppositemeaningandintentionoftheoriginal.He’skindofturnedtheBibleonitshead.”
Imight’vesaidmore,butAbdulGhaniendedthediscussionabruptly.
“Thankyou,Lin.You’vebeenabighelp.Butlet’schangethesubject.I,forone,dosincerelydisliketalkingaboutsuchunpleasantnessasthisSapnalunatic.IonlybroughtitupbecauseKhaderaskedmeto-andKhaderKhan’swishismycommand.
Butwereallyshouldmoveonnow.Ifwedon’tgetstartedonourthemefortonight,we’llmissoutaltogether.So,let’shaveasmoke,andtalkofotherthings.It’sourcustomfortheguesttostart,sowillyoubesokind?”
Faridroseandplacedahuge,ornatehookah,withsixsnakinglines,onthefloorbetweenusnexttothetable.Hepassedthesmokingtubesout,andsquattednexttothehookahwithseveralmatchesheldreadytostrike.Theothersclosedofftheirsmokingtubeswiththeirthumbsand,asFaridplayedaflameoverthetulip-shapedbowl,Ipuffeditalight.Itwasthemixofhashishandmarijuanaknownasganga-jamuna,namedafterthetwoholyrivers,GangesandJamner.Itwassopotent,andcamewithsuchforcefromthewater-pipe,thatalmostatoncemybloodshoteyesfailedinfocusandIexperiencedamild,hallucinatoryeffect:theblurringattheedgesofotherpeople’sfaces,andaminusculetime-delayintheirmovements.TheLewisCarrolls,Karlacalledit.I’msostoned,sheusedtosay,I’mgettingtheLewisCarrolls.SomuchsmokepassedfromthetubethatIswalloweditandbelcheditoutagain.Iclosedoffthepipe,andwatchedinslowmotionastheotherssmoked,oneafteranother.
I’djustbeguntomasterthesloppygrinthatdumpeditselfontheplasticinemusclesofmyfacewhenitwasmyturntosmokeagain.Itwasaseriousbusiness.Therewasnolaughingorsmiling.
Therewasnoconversation,andnomanmetanother’seye.Themensmokedwiththesamemirthless,earnestimpassivenessImight’vefoundonalongrideinanelevatorfullofstrangers.
“Now,Mr.Lin,”Khaderbhaisaid,smilinggraciouslyasFaridremovedthehookahandsetaboutcleaningtheash-filledbowl.
“Itisalsoourcustomfortheguesttogiveusthethemefordiscussion.Thisisusuallyareligioustheme,butitneednotbeso.Whatwouldyouliketotalkabout?”
“I…I…I’mnotsurewhatyoumean?”Istammered,mybrainsoundlesslyexplodinginfractalrepetitionsofthepatterninthecarpetbeneathmyfeet.
“Giveusasubject,Lin.Lifeanddeath,loveandhate,loyaltyandbetrayal,”AbdulGhaniexplained,wavingaplumphandineffetelittlecircleswitheachcouplet.“Wearelikeadebatingsocietyhere,yousee.Wemeeteverymonth,atleastonetime,andwhenourbusinessandprivatemattersarefinished,wetalkaboutphilosophicalsubjectsandthesuch-like.It’souramusement.Andnowwehaveyou,anEnglishman,togiveusasubjecttodiscuss,inyourlanguage.”
“I’mnotEnglish,actually.”
“NotEnglish?Thenwhatareyou?”Madjiddemandedtoknow.Deepsuspicionswereplantedinthefurrowsofhisfrown.
Itwasagoodquestion.ThefalsepassportinmybackpackintheslumsaidthatIwasaNewZealandcitizen.ThebusinesscardinmypocketsaidthatIwasanAmericannamedGilbertParker.
PeopleinthevillageatSunderhadre-namedmeShantaram.IntheslumtheyknewmeasLinbaba.Alotofpeopleinmyowncountryknewmeasafaceonawantedposter.Butisitmyowncountry,Iaskedmyself.DoIhaveacountry?
Itwasn’tuntilI’daskedmyselfthequestionthatIrealisedIalreadyhadtheanswer.IfIdidhaveacountry,anationoftheheart,itwasIndia.IknewthatIwasasmucharefugee,adisplacedandstatelessperson,asthethousandsofAfghans,Iranians,andotherswho’dcometoBombayacrosstheburningbridge;thoseexileswho’dtakenshovelsofhope,andsetaboutburyingthepastintheearthoftheirownlives.
“I’manAustralian,”Isaid,admittingitforthefirsttimesinceI’darrivedinIndia,andobeyinganinstinctthatwarnedmetotellKhaderbhaithetruth.Strangely,IfeltittobemoreofaliethananyaliasI’deverused.“Howveryinteresting,”AbdulGhaniremarked,liftingoneeyebrowinasagenodtoKhaderbhai.“Andwhatwillyouhaveasasubject,Lin?”
“Anysubject?”Iasked,stallingfortime.
“Yes,yourchoice.Lastweekwediscussedpatriotism-theobligationsofamantoGod,andwhatheowestothestate.Amostengagingtheme.Whatwillyouhaveusdiscussthisweek?”
“Well,there’salineinthatposterofSapna’s…oursufferingisourreligion-somethinglikethat.Itmademethinkofsomethingelse.Thecopscameagain,afewdaysago,andsmasheddownalotofhousesinthezhopadpatti,andwhilewewerewatchingitoneofthewomennearmesaid…ourdutyistowork,andtosuffer-orasneartothatasIcanmakeout.Shesaiditverycalmlyandsimply,asifsheacceptedit,andwasresignedtoit,andunderstooditcompletely.ButIdon’tunderstandit,andIdon’tthinkIeverwill.So,maybethequestioncouldbeaboutthat.Whydopeoplesuffer?Whydobadpeoplesuffersolittle?Andwhydogoodpeoplesuffersomuch?Imean,I’mnottalkingaboutme-allthesufferingI’vegonethrough,Ibroughtmostofitonmyself.AndGodknows,I’vecausedalotofittootherpeople.ButIstilldon’tunderstandit-especiallynotthesufferingthatthepeopleintheslumgothrough.So…suffering.Wecouldtalkaboutthat…doyouthink?”
Itrailedoffalittlelamelyintothesilencethatgreetedmysuggestion,butmomentslaterIwasrewardedwithawarmlyapprovingsmilefromKhaderbhai.
“Itisagoodtheme,Lin.Iknewthatyouwouldnotdisappointus.Majidbhai,Iwillcallonyoutostartusonthistalk.”
Madjidclearedhisthroatandturnedagruffsmileonhishost.
Hescratchedathisbushyeyebrowswiththumbandforefinger,andthenplungedintothediscussionwiththeconfidentairofamanmuchusedtoexpressinghisopinions.
“Suffering,letmesee.Ithinkthatsufferingisamatterofchoice.Ithinkthatwedonothavetosufferanythinginthislife,ifwearestrongenoughtodenyit.Thestrongmancanmasterhisfeelingssocompletelythatitisalmostimpossibletomakehimsuffer.Whenwedosufferthings,likepainandso,itmeansthatwehavelostcontrol.SoIwillsaythatsufferingisahumanweakness.”
“Achaa-cha,”Khaderbhaimurmured,usingtherepetitiveformoftheHindiwordforgood,whichtranslatesasYes,yes,orFine,fine.“Yourinterestingideamakesmeaskthequestion,wheredoesstrengthcomefrom?”
“Strength?”Madjidgrunted.“Everyoneknowsthatit…well…whatareyousaying?”
“Nothing,myoldfriend.Only,isitnottruethatsomeofourstrengthcomesfromsuffering?Thatsufferinghardshipmakesusstronger?Thatthoseofuswhohaveneverknownarealhardship,andtruesuffering,cannothavethesamestrengthasothers,whohavesufferedmuch?Andifthatistrue,doesthatnotmeanthatyourargumentisthesamethingassayingthatwehavetobeweaktosuffer,andwehavetosuffertobestrong,sowehavetobeweaktobestrong?”
“Yes,”Madjidconceded,smiling.“Maybealittlebitistrue,maybealittlebitofwhatyousay.ButIstillthinkitisamatterofstrengthandweakness.”
“Idon’taccepteverythingthatourbrotherMadjidsaid,”AbdulGhaniputin,“butIdoagreethatthereisanelementofcontrolthatwehaveoversuffering.Idon’tthinkyoucandenythat.”
“Wheredowegetthiscontrol,andhow?”Khaderbhaiasked.
“Iwouldsaythatitisdifferentforallofus,butthatithappenswhenwegrowup,whenwematureandpassfromthechildishnessofouryouthfultears,andbecomeadults.Ithinkthatitisapartofgrowingup,learningtocontroloursuffering.Ithinkthatwhenwegrowup,andlearnthathappinessisrare,andpassesquickly,webecomedisillusionedandhurt.
Andhowmuchwesufferisamarkofhowmuchwehavebeenhurtbythisrealisation.Suffering,yousee,isakindofanger.Werageagainsttheunfairness,theinjusticeofoursadandsorrylot.
Andthisboilingresentment,yousee,thisanger,iswhatwecallsuffering.Itisalsowhatleadsustotheherocurse,Imightadd.”
“Herocurse!Enoughofyourherocurses!Youbringeverysubjectbacktothis,”Madjidgrowled,scowlingtomatchthesmugsmileofhisportlyfriend.
“Abdulhasapettheory,Lin,”saidKhaled,thedourPalestinian.
“Hebelievesthatcertainmenarecursedwithqualities,suchasgreatcourage,thatmakethemcommitdesperateacts.Hecallsittheherocurse,thethingthatcompelsthemtoleadothermentobloodshedandchaos.Hemightberight,Ithink,buthegoesonaboutitsomuchhedrivesusallcrazy.”“Leavingthataside,Abdul,”Khaderbhaipersisted,“letmeaskyouonequestionaboutwhatyouhavesaid.Isthereadifference,wouldyousay,betweensufferingthatweexperience,andsufferingthatwecauseforothers?”
“Ofcourse,yes.Whatareyougettingat,Khader?”
“Justthatifthereareatleasttwokindsofsuffering,quitedifferenttoeachother,onethatwefeel,andonethatwecauseotherstofeel,theycanhardlybothbetheangerthatyouspokeof.Isn’titso?Whichoneiswhich,wouldyousay?”
“Why…ha!”AbdulGhanilaughed.“You’vegotmethere,Khader,youoldfox!YoualwaysknowwhenI’mjustmakinganargumentforthesakeofit,_na?AndjustwhenIthoughtIwasbeingbloodyclever,too!Butdon’tworry,I’llthinkitaround,andcomebackatyouagain.”
Hesnatchedachunkofsweetbarfifromtheplateonthetable,bitapieceofit,andmunchedhappily.Hegesturedtothemanonhisright,thrustingthesweetinhispudgyfingers.
“Andwhataboutyou,Khaled?WhathaveyoutosayaboutLin’stopic?”
“Iknowthatsufferingisthetruth,”Khaledsaidquietly.Histeethwereclenched.“Iknowthatsufferingisthesharpendofthewhip,andnotsufferingisthebluntend-theendthatthemasterholdsinhishand.”
“Khaled,dearfellow,”AbdulGhanicomplained.“Youaremorethantenyearsmyjunior,andIthinkofyouasdearlyasIwouldofmyownyoungerbrother,butImusttellyouthatthisisamostdepressingthought,andyou’redisturbingthegoodpleasurewe’vegainedfromthisexcellentcharras.”
“Ifyou’dbeenbornandraisedinPalestine,you’dknowthatsomepeopleareborntosuffer.Anditneverstops,forthem.Notforasecond.You’dknowwhererealsufferingcomesfrom.It’sthesameplacewhereloveandfreedomandprideareborn.Andit’sthesameplacewherethosefeelingsandidealsdie.Thatsufferingneverstops.Weonlypretenditdoes.Weonlytellourselvesitdoes,tomakethekidsstopwhimperingintheirsleep.”
Hestareddownathisstronghands,gloweringatthemasifattwodespisedanddefeatedenemieswhowerepleadingforhismercy.Agloomysilencebegantothickenintheairaroundus,andinstinctivelywelookedtoKhaderbhai.Hesatcross-legged,stiff-backed,rockingslowlyinhisplaceandseemingtospooloutaprecisemeasureofrespectfulreflection.Atlast,henoddedtoFarid,invitinghimtospeak.“IthinkthatourbrotherKhaledisright,inaway,”Faridbeganquietly,almostshyly.Heturnedhislarge,darkbrowneyesonKhaderbhai.Encouragedbytheolderman’snodofinterest,hecontinued.“Ithinkthathappinessisareallything,atrulything,butitiswhatmakesuscrazypeople.Happinessisasostrangeandpowerthingthatitmakesustobesick,likeagermsortofthing.Andsufferingiswhatcuresusofit,thetoomuchhappiness.The-howdoyousayit,bharivazan?”
“Theburden,”Khaderbhaitranslatedforhim.FaridspokeaphraserapidlyinHindi,andKhadergaveittousinsuchanelegantlypoeticEnglishthatIrealised,throughthehazeofthestone,howmuchbetterhisEnglishwasthanhe’dledmetobelieveatourfirstmeeting.“Theburdenofhappinesscanonlyberelievedbythebalmofsuffering.”
“Yes,yes,thatisitwhatIwanttosay.Withoutthesuffering,thehappinesswouldsquashusdown.”
“Thisisaveryinterestingthought,Farid,”Khaderbhaisaid,andtheyoungMaharashtrianglowedwithpleasureinthepraise.
Ifeltatinytwitchofjealousy.Thesenseofwell-beingbestowedbyKhaderbhai’sbenignantsmilewasasintoxicatingastheheadymixturewe’dsmokedinthehookahpipe.TheurgetobeasontoAbdelKhaderKhan,toearntheblessingofhispraise,wasoverwhelming.Thehollowspaceinmyheartwhereafather’slovemight’vebeen,should’vebeen,wrappeditselfaroundthecontoursofhisform,andtookthefeaturesofhisface.Thehighcheekbonesandcloselycroppedsilverbeard,thesensuallipsanddeep-setambereyes,becametheperfectfather’sface.
Ilookbackonthattimenow-atmyreadinesstoservehimasasonmightserveafather,atmywillingnesstolovehim,infact,andathowquicklyandunquestioninglyithappenedinmylife-andIwonderhowmuchofitcamefromthegreatpowerthathewieldedinthecity,hiscity.I’dneverfeltsosafe,anywhereintheworld,asIdidinhiscompany.AndIdidhopethatintheriverofhislifeImightwashawaythescent,andshakeoffthehounds.I’veaskedmyselfathousandtimes,throughtheyears,ifIwould’velovedhimsoswiftlyandsowellifhe’dbeenpowerlessandpoor.
Sittingthere,then,inthatdomedroom,feelingthetwingeofjealousywhenhesmiledatFaridandpraisedhim,IknewthatalthoughKhaderbhaihadspokenofadoptingmeashisson,onourfirstmeeting,itwasreallyIwho’dadoptedhim.Andwhilethediscussioncontinuedaroundme,Ispokethewords,quiteclearly,inthesecretvoiceofprayerandincantation…Father,father,myfather…
“YoudonotshareourjoyatthespeakingofEnglish,SobhanUncle,”Khaderbhaisaid,addressingthetough,grizzledoldermanonhisright.“Soplease,permitmetoanswerforyou.Youwillsay,Iknow,thattheKorantellsushowoursinandwrong-doingisthecauseofoursuffering,isn’titso?”
SobhanMahmoudwaggedhisheadinassent,hisgleamingeyesnestingunderatuftedledgeofgreyeyebrows.HeseemedamusedbyKhaderbhai’sguessathispositiononthetheme.
“Youwillsaythatlivingbyrightprinciples,accordingtotheteachingsoftheHolyKoran,willbanishsufferingfromthelifeofagoodMuslim,andleadhimtotheeternalblissofheavenwhenlifeisatanend.”
“WeallknowwhatSobhanUnclethinks,”AbdulGhanicutin,impatiently.“Noneofuswilldisagreewithyourarguments,Uncle-_ji,butyoumustpermitmetosaythatyouareinclinedtobealittleextreme,na?IwellrememberthetimethatyoubeatyoungMahmoudwitharodofbamboobecausehecriedwhenhismotherdied.Itis,ofcourse,truethatweshouldnotquestionthewillofAllah,butatouchofsympathy,inthesematters,isonlyhuman,isn’tit?Butbethatasitmay,whatIaminterestedinisyouropinion,Khader.Pleasetellus,whatdoyouthinkaboutsuffering?”
No-onespokeormoved.TherewasaperceptiblesharpeningoffocusandattentioninthefewsilentmomentsasKhaderbhaigatheredhisthoughts.Eachmanhadhisownopinionandlevelofarticulacy,yetIhadtheclearimpressionthatKhaderbhai’scontributionwasusuallythelastword.Isensedthathisresponsewouldsetthetone,perhapsevenbecomingtheanswerthosemenwouldgive,ifthequestionaboutsufferingwereaskedagain.Hisexpressionwasimpassive,andhiseyesweremodestlycastdown,buthewasfartoointelligentnottoperceivetheaweheinspiredinothers.Ithoughtthathewasfartoohuman,aswell,nottobeflatteredbyit.WhenIcametoknowhimbetter,Idiscoveredthathewasalwaysavidlyinterestedinwhatothersthoughtofhim,alwaysacutelyawareofhisowncharismaanditseffectonthosearoundhim,andthateverywordhespoke,toeveryonebutGod,wasaperformance.Hewasamanwiththeambitiontochangetheworldforever.Nothingthatheeversaidordid-noteventhequiethumilityinhisdeepvoiceashespoketousthen-wasanaccident,achance,oranythingbutacalculatedfragmentofhisplan.“Inthefirstplace,Iwouldliketomakeageneralcomment,andthenIwouldliketofollowitwithamoredetailedanswer.Doyouallallowmethis?Good.Then,tothegeneralcomment-Ithinkthatsufferingisthewaywetestourlove.Everyactofsuffering,nomatterhowsmalloragonisinglygreat,isatestofloveinsomeway.Mostofthetime,sufferingisalsoatestofourloveforGod.Thisismyfirststatement.Doesanyonewishtodiscussthispoint,beforeIproceed?”
Ilookedfromonefacetoanother.Somemensmiledinappreciationofhispoint,somenoddedtheiragreement,andsomeothersfrownedinconcentration.AllofthemseemedeagerforKhaderbhaitocontinue.
“Verywell,Iwillmoveontomymoredetailedanswer.TheHolyKorantellsusthatallthingsintheuniversearerelated,onetoanother,andthatevenoppositesareunitedinsomeway.Ithinkthattherearetwopointsaboutsufferingthatweshouldremember,andtheyhavetodowithpleasureandpain.Thefirstisthis:thatpainandsufferingareconnected,buttheyarenotthesamething.Paincanexistwithoutsuffering,anditisalsopossibletosufferwithoutfeelingpain.Doyouagreewiththis?”
Hescannedtheattentive,expectantfaces,andfoundapproval.
“Thedifferencebetweenthemisthis,Ithink:thatwhatwelearnfrompain-forexample,thatfireburnsandisdangerous-isalwaysindividual,forourselvesalone,butwhatwelearnfromsufferingiswhatunitesusasonehumanpeople.Ifwedonotsufferwithourpain,thenwehavenotlearnedaboutanythingbutourselves.Painwithoutsufferingislikevictorywithoutstruggle.WedonotlearnfromitwhatmakesusstrongerorbetterorclosertoGod.”
Theotherswaggedtheirheadsatoneanotherinagreement.
“Andtheotherpart,thepleasurepart?”AbdulGhaniasked.Afewofthemenlaughedgently,grinningatGhaniashelookedfromonetotheother.Helaughedattheminreturn.“What?What?
Can’tamanhaveahealthy,scientificinterestinpleasure?”
“Ah,”Khadercontinued,“Ithinkthatit’salittlebitlikewhatMr.LintellsusthisSapnafellowhasdonewiththewordsfromtheChristianBible.Itisthereverse.Sufferingisexactlylikehappiness,butbackwards.Oneisthemirrorimageoftheother,andhasnorealmeaningorexistencewithouttheother.”
“Iamsorry,Idonotunderstand,”Faridsaidmeekly,glancingattheothersandblushingdarkly.“Pleasecanyouexplainit?”“Itislikethis,”Khaderbhaisaidgently.“Takemyhand,asanexample.IfIopenmyhandoutlikethis,stretchingthefingersandshowingyouthepalm,orifIopenmyhandandputitonyourshoulder,myfingersstretchedoutlikethis-thatishappiness,orwemaycallitsoforthesakeofthismoment.AndifIcurlmyfingers,andclosethemtightlyintoafist,justso,wemaycallthatsuffering.Thetwogesturesareoppositeintheirmeaningandpower.Eachoneiscompletelydifferentinappearanceandinwhatitcando,butthehandthatmakesthegestureisthesame.Sufferingishappiness,backwards.”
Eachmanwasthengivenanotherturntospeak,andthediscussionitselfmovedbackwardsandforwards,reversingonitselfasargumentswereembellishedorabandonedfortwolonghours.
Hashishwassmoked.Teawasservedtwicemore,AbdulGhanichoosingtomixasmallpelletofblackopiuminhis,anddrinkingitdownwithapractisedgrimace.
Madjidmodifiedhispositionbyagreeingthatsufferingwasnotnecessarilyasignofweakness,butinsistingthatwecouldtoughenourselvesagainstitwithastrongwill;strengthofwillcomingfromstrictself-discipline,akindofself-imposedsuffering.Faridaddedtohisnotionofsufferingasanantitoxintothepoisonofhappinessbyrecallingspecificincidentsfromthelivesofhisfriends.OldSobhanwhisperedafewsentencesinUrdu,andKhaderbhaitranslatedthenewpointforus:therearesomethingswehumanbeingswillneverunderstand,thethingsonlyGodcanunderstand,andthatsufferingmaywellbeoneofthem.KekiDorabjimadethepointthattheuniverse,asthoseoftheParseefaithseeit,isaprocessofstrugglebetweenopposites-lightanddarkness,hotandcold,sufferingandpleasure-andthatnothingcanexistwithouttheexistenceofitsopposite.Rajubhaiaddedthatsufferingisaconditionoftheunenlightenedsoul,lockedwithinthewheelofKarma.KhaledFattahsaidnothingmore,despitetheartfulurgingsofAbdulGhani,whoteasedandcajoledhimseveraltimesbeforefinallygivinguptheattempt,visiblypiquedbythestubbornrefusal.
Forhispart,AbdulGhaniemergedasthemostvocalandlikeableofthegroup.Khaledwasanintriguingman,buttherewasanger-toomuchanger,perhaps-broodinginhim.MadjidhadbeenaprofessionalsoldierinIran.Heseemedbraveanddirect,yetgiventoasimplisticviewoftheworldanditspeople.SobhanMahmoudwasundoubtedlypious,buttherewasavaguelyantisepticscentofinflexibilityabouthim.YoungFaridwasopenhearted,self-effacingand,Isuspected,tooeasilyled.Kekiwasdourandunresponsive,andRajubhaiseemedtobesuspiciousofme,almosttothepointofrudeness.Ofallofthem,onlyAbdulGhanidisplayedanysenseofhumour,andonlyhelaughedaloud.Hewasasfamiliarwithyoungermenashewaswiththoseseniortohim.Hesprawledinhisplace,whereotherssat.
Heinterruptedorinterjectedwhenhepleased,andheatemore,drankmore,andsmokedmorethananymanintheroom.Hewasespecially,irreverently,affectionatewithKhaderbhai,anditwascertainthattheywereclosefriends.
Khaderbhaiaskedquestions,probed,madecommentsuponwhatwassaid,butneveraddedanotherwordtohisownposition.Iwassilent;drifting,tired,andgratefulthatno-onepressuredmetospeak.
WhenKhaderbhaifinallyadjournedthemeeting,hewalkedwithmetothedoorthatopenedintothestreetbesidetheNabilaMosque,andstoppedmetherewithagentlehandonmyforearm.HesaidhewasgladI’dcome,andthathehopedI’denjoyedmyself.ThenheaskedmetoreturnonthefollowingdaybecausetherewasafavourIcoulddoforhim,ifIwaswilling.Surprisedandflattered,Iagreedatonce,promisingtomeethimatthesameplaceonthefollowingmorning.Isteppedoutintothenight,andalmostputitoutofmymind.
Onthelongwalkhome,mythoughtsbrowsedamongtheideasI’dheardpresentedbythatscholarlygroupofcriminals.Irecalledother,similardiscussionsI’dsharedwithmeninprison.Despitetheirgenerallackofformaleducation,orperhapsbecauseofit,manymenI’dknowninprisonhadaferventinterestintheworldofideas.Theydidn’tcallitphilosophy,orevenknowitassuch,butthestuffoftheirconversationswasoftenjustthat-abstractquestionsofmoralandethic,meaningandpurpose.
Ithadbeenalongday,andanevenlongernight.WithMadameZhou’sphotographinmyhippocket,myfeetpinchedbyshoesthathadbeenboughttoburyKarla’sdeadlover,andmyheadcloggedwithdefinitionsofsuffering,IwalkedtheemptyingstreetsandrememberedacellinanAustralianprisonwherethemurderersandthievesI’dcalledmyfriendsoftengatheredtoargue,passionately,abouttruthandloveandvirtue.Iwonderediftheythoughtofmefromtimetotime.AmIadaydreamforthemnow,Iaskedmyself,adaydreamoffreedomandflight?Howwouldtheyanswerthequestion,whatissuffering?
Iknew.Khaderbhaihaddazzleduswiththewisdomofhisun-commonsense,andtheclevernessofhistalentforexpressingit.
Hisdefinitionwassharp,andbarbedenough-sufferingishappiness,backwards-tohookafishofmemory.Butthetruthofwhathumansufferingreallymeans,inthedry,frightenedmouthoflife,wasn’tinKhaderbhai’sclevernessthatnight.ItbelongedtoKhaledAnsari,thePalestinian.Hiswasthedefinitionthatstayedwithme.Hissimple,unbeautifulwordsweretheclearestexpressionofwhatallprisoners,andeveryoneelsewholiveslongenough,knowwell-thatsuffering,ofeverykind,isalwaysamatterofwhatwe’velost.Whenwe’reyoung,wethinkthatsufferingissomethingthat’sdonetous.Whenwegetolder-whenthesteeldoorslamsshut,inonewayoranother-weknowthatrealsufferingismeasuredbywhat’stakenawayfromus.
Feelingsmallandaloneandlonely,Iwalkedbymemoryandtouchthroughthedark,lightlesslanesoftheslum.AsIturnedintothelastgullywheremyownemptyhutwaited,Isawlamplight.Amanwasstandingnotfarfrommydoorwithalanterninhishand.
Besidehimwasasmallchild,alittlegirl,withknotted,teasedhair.IdrewnearandsawthatthemanwiththelanternwasJoseph,thedrunkardwho’dbeatenhiswife,andthatPrabakerwaswithhimintheshadows.
“What’sgoingon?”Iwhispered.“It’slate.”
“Hello,Linbaba.Niceclothesyou’rewearingforchanges,”
Prabakersmiled,hisroundfacefloatingintheyellowlight.“Iloveit,yourshoes-socleanandshining.Justintimeyouare.
Josephisdoingitgoodthings.Hehaspaidmoney,tohaveitthegoodlucksignputoneverybodyhisdoors.Sincenotbeingabadlydrinkingfellowanymore,hehasbeenworkingfullovertimes,andwithsomeofhisextramoneyhepaidforthis,tohelpusallwithgoodluck.”
“Thegoodlucksign?”
“Yes,lookhereatthischild,lookatherhand.”Heliftedthelittlegirl’swrists,andexposedthehands.Inthefeeblelight,itwasn’tclearwhatIwassupposedtosee.“Look,here,onlyfourfingersshehas.Seethat!Fourfingersonly.Verygoodluck,thisthing.”
Isawit.Twofingersonthechild’shandswerejoined,imperceptibly,tomakejustonethickfingerbetweentheindexandmiddlefingers.Herpalmswereblue.Josephheldaflatdishofbluepaint.Thechildhadbeendippingherhandsintoit,andmakinghandprintsonthedoorofeveryhutinourlanetobringprotectionagainstthemanyafflictionsattributedtotheEvilEye.Superstitiousslum-dwellersapparentlydeemedhertobeespeciallyblessedbecauseshewasbornwiththeraredifferenceofonlyfourfingersoneachhand.AsIwatched,thechildreachedovertopresshersmallhandsagainstmyflimsydoor.Withabrief,seriousnod,Josephledthegirlawaytothenexthut.
“Iamhelpingthatused-to-be-beating-his-wife-and-badlydrinking-fellow,thatJoseph,”Prabakersaid,inastagewhisperthatcouldbeheardtwentymetresaway.“Youarewantinganythings,beforeI’mgoing?”
“No.Thanks.Goodnight,Prabu.”
“Shubaratri,Lin,”hegrinned.Goodnight.“Haveitsweetdreamsforme,yes?”
Heturnedtoleave,butIstoppedhim.
“Hey,Prabu.”
“Yes,Lin?”
“Tellme,whatissuffering?Whatdoyouthink?Whatdoesitmean,thatpeoplesuffer?”
Prabakerglancedalongthedarklaneoframshacklehutstothehoveringglow-wormofJoseph’slamp.Helookedbackatme,onlyhiseyesandhisteethvisible,althoughwewerestandingquiteclosetogether.
“You’refeelingokay,Lin?”
“I’mfine,”Ilaughed.
“Didyoudrinkanydarutonight,likethatbadly-drinkingJoseph?”
“No,really,I’mfine.Comeon,you’realwaysdefiningeverythingforme.Weweretalkingaboutsufferingtonight,andI’minterestedtoknow,whatdoyouthinkaboutit?”
“Iseasy-sufferingishungry,isn’tit?Hungry,foranything,meanssuffering.Nothungryforsomething,means,notsuffering.
Buteverybodyknowsthat.”
“Yes,Iguesseverybodydoes.Goodnight,Prabu.”
“Goodnight,Lin.”
Hewalkedaway,singing,andheknewthatnoneofthepeoplesleepinginthewretchedhutsaroundhimwouldmind.Heknewthatiftheywoketheywouldlistenforamoment,andthendriftbacktosleepwithasmilebecausehewassingingaboutlove.
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CHAPTERFIFTEEN
“Wakeup,Lin!Hey,Linbaba,youmustawakeupnow!”
Oneeyeopened,andfocusedonahovering,brownballoonthathadJohnnyCigar’sfacepaintedonit.Theeyeclosedagain.
“Goaway,Johnny.”
“Hellotoyou,too,Lin,”hechuckled,infuriatinglyhappy.“Youhavetogetup.”
“You’reanevilman,Johnny.You’reacruelandevilman.Goaway.”
“Onefellowhasaninjury,Lin.Weneedyourmedicinebox,andyourgoodmedicalselfalso.”
“It’sstilldark,man.”Igroaned.“It’stwoo’clockinthemorning.Tellhimtocomebackinthedaylight,whenI’malive.”
“Oh,certainly,Iwilltellhim,andhewillgo,butIthinkyoushouldknowthatheisbleedingveryswiftly.Still,ifyoumusthavemoresleep,Iwillbeathimawayfromyourdoor,thisveryinstant,withthree-fourgoodshotsfrommyslipper.”
Iwasleaningoutoverthedeeppoolofsleepbutthatword,bleeding,pulledmebackfromtheedge.Isatup,wincingatthenumbedstiffnessofonehip.Mybed,likemostofthebedsintheslum,wasablanket,foldedtwiceandplacedonthehard-packedearth.Kapokmattresseswereavailable,buttheywereimpractical.Theytookuptoomuchspaceinthesmallhuts,theyquicklybecameinfestedwithlice,fleas,andothervermin,andratsfoundthemirresistible.Afterlongmonthsofsleepingontheground,Iwasasusedtoitasamangets,buttherewasn’tmuchfleshonmyhips,andIwokeupsoreeverymorning.
Johnnywasholdingalampquiteclosetomyface.Iblinked,pushingitasidetoseeanothermansquattinginthedoorwaywithhisarmheldoutinfrontofhim.Therewasalargecutorgashonthearm,andbloodseepedfromit,drip,drip,drop,intoabucket.Onlyhalfawake,asIwas,Istaredstupidlyattheyellowplasticbucket.Themanhadbroughthisownbucketwithhimtostopthebloodfromstainingthefloorofmyhut,andthatseemedmoredisturbing,somehow,thanthewounditself.
“Sorryfortrouble,Mr.Lin,”theyoungmansaid.
“ThisisAmeer,”JohnnyCigargrunted,whackingtheinjuredmanonthebackoftheheadwitharesoundingslap.“Suchastupidfellowheis,Lin.Nowhe’ssorryfortrouble.Ishouldtakemyslipperandbeatyourblack,andbeatsomeofyourbluealso.”
“God,whatamess.Thisisabadcut,Johnny.”Itwasalong,deepslashfromtheshoulderalmosttothetipoftheelbow.Alarge,triangularflapofskin,shapedlikethelapelofanovercoat,wasbeginningtocurlawayfromthewound.“Heneedsadoctor.Thishastobestitchedup.Youshould’vetakenhimtothehospital.”
“Hospitalnaya!”Ameerwhined.“Nahin,baba!”
Johnnyslappedhimontheear.
“Shutup,youstupid!Hewon’tgotoahospitaloradoctor,Lin.
He’sacheekyfellow,agoonda.He’safraidofpolice.Aren’tyou,hey,youstupid?Afraidofpolice,na?”
“Stophittinghim,Johnny.It’sreallynothelping.Howdidthishappen?”
“Fighting.Hisgang,withtheothergang.Theyfight,withswordsandchoppers,thesestreetgangsters,andthisistheresult.”
“Theotherfellowsstartedit.TheyweredoingtheEve-teasing!”
Ameercomplained.Eve-teasingwasthenamegiventothechargeofsexualharassment,underIndianlaw,anditcoveredarangeofoffencesfrominsultinglanguagetophysicalmolestation.“Wewarnedthemtostopit.Ourladieswerenotwalkingsafely.Forthatreasononlywedidfightthem.”
Johnnyraisedhisbroadhand,silencingAmeer’sprotest.Hewantedtostriketheyoungmanagain,butmyfrowngavehimreluctantpause.
“Youthinkthisisareasontofightwithswordsandchoppers,youstupid?YourmummywillbeveryhappythatyoustoptheEveteasing,andgetyourselfhackedupintoteenypieces,na?Veryhappyshe’llbe!AndnowyouwantLinbabatosewyouup,andmakenicerepairstoyourarm.Shameful,youare!”
“Waitaminute,Johnny.Ican’tdothis.It’stoobig,toomessy…it’stoomuch.”
“Youhavetheneedlesandcottoninyourmedicalboxes,Lin.”Hewasright.Thekitcontainedsutureneedlesandsilkthread.
ButI’dneverusedthem.
“I’veneverusedthem,Johnny.Ican’tdoit.Heneedsaprofessional-adoctororanurse.”
“Itoldyou,Lin.Hewon’tgotoadoctor.Itriedtoforcehim.
Someoneintheothergangwashurtevenmoreseriouslythanthisstupidboy.Maybehewilldiealso,thisotherfellow.Itisapolicematternow,andtheyareaskingquestions.Ameerwon’tgotoanydoctororhospital.”
“Ifyougiveme,Iwilldomyself,”Ameersaid,swallowinghard.
Hiseyeswerehugewithfrightandhorror-struckresolve.Ilookedathimfullinthefaceforthefirsttime,andIsawhowyounghewas:sixteenorseventeenyearsold.HewaswearingPumasneakers,jeans,andabasketballsingletwiththenumberprintedonthefront.TheclotheswereIndiancopiesoffamouswesternbrands,buttheywereconsideredfashionablyhipbyhispeersintheslum,otheryoungmenwithleanbelliesandheadsfullofscrambledforeigndreams;youngmenwhowentwithoutfoodtobuyclothesthattheyimaginedmadethemlooklikethecoolforeignersinmagazinesandfilms.
Ididn’tknowthekid.HewasoneofthousandsI’dneverseen,althoughI’dbeenthereforalmostsixmonths,andno-oneintheplacelivedmorethanfiveorsixhundredmetresfrommyhut.
Somemen,suchasJohnnyCigarandPrabaker,appearedtoknoweveryoneintheslum.Itseemedextraordinarytomethattheyshouldknowintimatedetailsfromthelivesofsomanythousandsofpeople.Itwasevenmoreremarkablethattheycared-thattheyencouragedandscoldedandworriedaboutallofthem.IwonderedhowthatyoungmanwasconnectedtoJohnnyCigar.Ameershiveredintheswirlingchillofnight,pressinghislipsintoawide,noiselesswhineashecontemplatedtakingneedleandthreadtohisownflesh.IwonderedhowitwasthatJohnny,standingabovehim,knewhimwellenoughtobesurehewoulddoit;tonodatmewiththemessage,Yes,ifyougivehimtheneedle,hewilldoithimself.
“Okay,okay,I’lldoit,”Isurrendered.“It’sgoingtohurt.Ihaven’tgotanyanaesthetic.”
“Hurt!”Johnnyboomedhappily.“Painisnoproblem,Lin.Goodyouhavepains,Ameer,youchutia.Painsinyourbrains,youshouldbehaving.”
IsatAmeerdownonmybed,coveringhisshoulderswithanotherblanket.Pullingthekerosenestovefrommykitchenbox,Ipumpeditup,primedit,andsetapotofwateronittoboil.Johnnyhurriedofftoasksomeonetomakehot,sweettea.Iwashedmyfaceandhandshurriedly,inthedark,attheopenbathroom-spacebesidemyhut.Whenthewaterboiled,Iputalittleintoadish,andthrewtwoneedlesintothepottosterilisethemwithfurtherboiling.Usingantisepticandwarmsoapywater,Iwashedthewoundandthendrieditoffwithcleangauze.Iboundthearmtightlywithgauze,leavingitinplacefortenminutestopressthewoundtogether,inthehopethatitwouldmakethestitchingeasier.
Ameerdranktwolargemugsofsweetteaatmyinsistence,asacountertothesymptomsofshockthathadbeguntoshow.Hewasafraid,buthewascalm.Hetrustedme.Hecouldn’tknowthatI’donlydonetheprocedureoncebefore,andunderironicallysimilarcircumstances.Amanhadbeenstabbedduringaprisonfight.Theproblembetweenthetwoantagonists,whateveritwas,hadbeenresolvedintheviolentencounter,andthematterwasfinishedsofarastheywereconcerned.Butifthestabbedmanhadreportedtotheprisoninfirmaryfortreatment,theauthoritieswould’veplacedhiminanisolationunitforprisonersonprotection.Forsomemen,childmolestersandinformersparticularly,therewasnoalternativetobeingplacedonprotectionbecausetheywouldn’totherwisehavesurvived.Forothers,menplacedthereagainsttheirwill,theprotectionunitwasacurse:thecurseofsuspicion,slanders,andthecompanyofmentheydespised.Thestabbedmanhadcometome.I’dstitchedhiswoundclosedwithaleatherworkneedleandembroiderythread.Thewoundhealed,butitleftanugly,ripplingscar.Thememoryofitneverleftme,andIwasn’tconfidentabouttheattempttostitchAmeer’sarm.
Thesheepish,trustingsmilethattheyoungmanofferedmewasnohelp.Peoplealwayshurtuswiththeirtrust,Karlasaidtomeonce.Thesurestwaytohurtsomeoneyoulike,istoputallyourtrustinhim.
Idranktea,smokedacigarette,andthensettowork.Johnnystoodinthedoorway,ineffectuallyscoldingseveralcuriousneighboursandtheirchildrenawayfromthedoor.Thesutureneedlewascurvedandveryfine.Isupposedthatitshould’vebeenusedwithsomekindofpliers.Ihadnoneinmykit.Oneoftheboyshadborrowedthemtofixasewingmachine.Ihadtopushtheneedleintotheskin,andpullitthroughwithmyfingers.Itwasawkwardandslippery,andthefirstfewcross-shapedstitchesweremessy.Ameerwincedandgrimacedinventively,buthedidn’tcryout.BythefifthandsixthstitchesI’ddevelopedatechnique,andtheuglinessofthework,ifnotthepaininvolved,haddiminished.
Humanskinistougherandmoreresilientthanitlooks.It’salsorelativelysimpletostitch,andthethreadcanbepulledquitetightlywithouttearingthetissue.Buttheneedle,nomatterhowfineorsharp,isstillaforeignobjectand,forthoseofuswhoaren’tinuredtosuchworkthroughfrequentrepetition,there’sapsychologicalpenaltythatmustbepaideachtimewedrivethatalienthingintoanotherbeing’sflesh.Ibegantosweatheavilydespitethecoolnight.ItwasameasureofthedistressinvolvedthatAmeerbecamebrighterastheworkprogressed,whileIgrewmoretenseandfatigued.
“Youshould’veinsistedthathegotoahospital!”IsnappedatJohnnyCigar.“Thisisridiculous!”
“You’redoingveryexcellentsewing,Lin,”hecountered.“Youcouldmakeupaveryfineshirt,withstitcheslikethat.”
“It’snotasgoodasitshouldbe.He’llhaveabigscar.Idon’tknowwhatthefuckI’mdoinghere.”
“Areyouhavingtroublewithtoilet,Lin?”
“What?”
“Areyounotgoingtotoilet?Areyouhavingithardmotions?”
“ForChrissakes,Johnny!Whatareyoubabblingabout?”
“Yourbadtemper,Lin.Thisisnotyourusualbehaviour.Maybeitisaproblemwithhardmotions,Ithinkso?”
“No,”Igroaned.
“Ah,thenitisloosemotionsyou’rehaving,Ithink.”
“Hehaditloosemotionsforthreedayslastmonth,”oneofmyneighbourschippedinfromtheopendoorway.“MyhusbandtoldmethatLinbabawasgoingthree-three-fourtimestotoileteverydaythen,andagainthree-three-fourtimeseverynight.Thewholestreetwastalking.”
“Ohyes,Iremember,”anotherneighbourrecalled.“Suchpainhehad!Whatfaceshepulledwhenhewasattoilet,yaar.Likehewasmakingababy.Anditwasaveryrunny,loosemotion.Likewater,itwas,anditcameoutsofast,likewhentheyexplodethecannonsonIndependenceDay.Da-dung!Likethat,itwas!Irecommendedthedrinkingofchandu-chaithattime,andhismotionsbecameharder,andaverygoodcolouragain.”
“Agoodidea,”Johnnymutteredappreciatively.“Goandgetitsomechandu-chaiforLinbaba’sloosemotions.”“No!”Imoaned.“Idon’thaveloosemotions.Idon’thavehardmotions.Ihaven’thadachancetohaveanymotionsatallyet.
I’monlyhalfawake,forGod’ssake!Oh,what’stheuse?There,it’sfinished.You’llbeokay,Ameer,Ithink.Butyoushouldhaveatetanusinjection.”
“Noneed,Linbaba.Ihaditinjectionsbeforethreemonths,afterthelastfighting.”
Icleanedthewoundoncemoreanddusteditwithantibioticpowder.Coveringthetwenty-sixstitcheswithaloosebandage,Iwarnedhimnottogetitwet,andinstructedhimtocomebackwithintwodaystohaveitchecked.Hetriedtopayme,butIrefusedthemoney.No-onepaidforthetreatmentIdispensed.
Still,itwasn’tprinciplethatmademerefuse.ThetruthwasthatIfeltcuriously,inexplicablyangry-atAmeer,atJohnny,atmyself-andIorderedhimawaycurtly.Hetouchedmyfeet,andbackedoutofthehut,collectingapartingslapontheheadfromJohnnyCigar.
IwasabouttocleanupthemessinmyhutwhenPrabakerrushedinside,graspedatmyshirt,andtriedtodragmeoutthroughthedoor.
“Sogoodthatyouarenotsleeping,Linbaba,”hegaspedbreathlessly.“Wecansavethetimeofwakingyouup.Youmustcomenowwithme!Hurry,please!”
“ForGod’ssake,whatisitnow?”Igrumbled.“Letgoofme,Prabu.I’vegottocleanupthismess.”
“Notimeformess,baba.Youcomenow,please.Noproblem!”
“Yesproblem!”Icontradictedhim.“I’mnotgoinganywhereuntilyoutellmewhatthehellisgoingon.That’sit,Prabu.That’sfinal.Noproblem.”
“Youabsolutelymustcome,Lin,”heinsisted,draggingatmyshirt.“Yourfriendisinthejail.Youmusthelp!”
Weabandonedthehutandrushedoutthroughthenarrow,shadowcloggedlanesofthesleepingslum.OnthemainstreetoutsidethePresidentHotelwecaughtacab,andsweptalongtheclean,silentstreetspasttheParseeColony,SassoonDock,andtheColabaMarket.ThecabstoppedoutsidetheColabapolicestation,directlyacrosstheroadfromLeopold’s.Thebarwasclosed,ofcourse,withthewidemetalshuttersrolleddowntothepavement.
Itseemedpreternaturallyquiet:thehauntedstillnessofapopularbar,closedforbusiness.
PrabakerandIpassedthegatesofthepolicestationandenteredthecompound.Myheartwasbeatingfast,butIlookedoutwardlycalm.AllthecopsinthestationspokeMarathi-itwasarequirementoftheiremployment.Iknewthatiftheyhadnospecialreasontosuspectorchallengeme,myproficiencywiththeMarathilanguagewouldpleasethemasmuchasitsurprisedthem.Itwouldmakemepopularwiththem,andthatsmallcelebritywouldprotectme.
Still,itwasajourneybehindenemylines,andinmymindIpushedthelocked,heavyboxoffearallthewaytothebackoftheattic.
Prabakerspokequietlytoahavaldar,orpoliceconstable,atthefootofalongflightofmetalstairs.Themannodded,andsteppedtotheside.Prabakerwaggedhishead,andIfollowedhimupthesteelstepstoalanding,withaheavydoor,onthefirstfloor.Afaceappearedatthegrillesetintothedoor.Largebrowneyesstaredleftandright,andthenthedooropenedforus.Westeppedintoanantechamberthatcontainedadesk,asmallmetalchair,andabamboocot.Theguardwhoopenedthedoorwasthewatchmanondutythatnight.HespokebrieflywithPrabakerandthenglaredatme.Hewasatallmanwithaprominentpaunchandalarge,expressivelybristlymoustache,tingedwithgrey.
Therewasametalgatemadefromhinged,concertina-stylelatticesbehindhim.Beyondthegate,thefacesofadozenprisonerswatcheduswithintenseinterest.Theguardturnedhisbroadbackonthem,andheldouthishand.
“Hewantsyouto-”Prabakerbegan.
“Iknow,”Istoppedhim,fishingintothepocketofmyjeans.“Hewantsbaksheesh.Howmuch?”
“Fiftyrupees,”Prabakergrinned,lookingupwithhisbiggestsmileintothefaceofthetallofficer.
Ihandedoverafifty-rupeenote,andthewatchmanpalmedit.Heturnedhisbacktomeandapproachedthemetalgate.Wefollowedhim.Moremenhadgatheredthere,allwideawakeandchattering,despitethelatehour.Thewatchmanstaredatthem,onebyone,untilallweresilent.Thenhecalledmeforward.WhenIfacedthebarsofthesteelgate,thecrowdofmenpartedandtwofantasticfigurespushedtheirwaytothefront.Theywerethebear-handlers,theblue-skinnedmenwho’dbroughtKanothebeartomyslumatAbdullah’srequest.Theyreachedthegateandgraspedatthebars,chatteringatmesoquicklyandurgentlythatIonlycaughteveryfourthorfifthword.
“What’sgoingon,Prabu?”Iasked,completelymystified.WhenPrabakertoldmethatmyfriendwasinjail,I’dassumedthathe’dmeantAbdullah.IwasexpectingtofindAbdullahbehindthebars,andImovedleftandright,tryingtoseebeyondthebear-handlersandtheothermencrowdingatthegate.
“Theseareyourfriends,isn’tit?”Prabakerasked.“Don’tyouremember,Lin?TheycamewithKanotohaveyourbearhugs.”
“Yes,sure,Irememberthem.Didyoubringmetoseethem?”
Prabakerblinkedatme,andthenturnedquicklytochecktheexpressionsonthefacesofthewatchmanandthebear-handlers.
“Yes,Lin,”hesaidquietly.“Thesemenwereaskingyoutocome.
Doyou…doyouwanttoleave?”
“No,no.Ijust…nevermind.Whatdotheywant?Ican’tmakeoutwhatthey’resaying.”
Prabakeraskedthemtoexplainwhattheywanted,andthetwoblue-skinnedmenshoutedtheirstory,clutchingatthelatticesofthegateasiftheyweretheboardsofaraftontheopensea.
“Theysay,theytellit,thattheyarestayingneartotheNavyNagar,andtheyfoundtheresomeotherfellows,whoalsoarebearhandlingfellows,andhavingitoneverysadandskinnybear,”
Prabakerexplained,urgingthementobecalmandtospeakmoreslowly.“Theysaythattheseotherswerenottreatingtheirbearwithrespect.Theywerebeatingthatbearwithawhip,andthatbearwascrying,withpainsalloverhim.”
Thebear-handlersspokeinarushofwordsthatkeptPrabakersilent,listeningandnodding,withhismouthopentospeak.
Otherprisonersapproachedthegatetolisten.Thecorridorbeyondthegatehadlongwindowsononesidecoveredbyametalgrille.Ontheothersideofthecrowdedprisoncorridortherewereseveralrooms.Menstreamedfromthoserooms,swellingthethrongatthegatetoahundredormoreprisoners,allofthemlisteningwithfascinationtothebear-handler’sstory.
“Sohard,thosebadfellowswerebeatingtheirpoorbear,”
Prabakertranslated.“Andevenwhenitcried,thosefellowsdidn’tstopbeatingit,thatbear.And,youknow,itwasagirlbear!”
Themenatthegatereactedwithoutraged,angryshoutsandsympatheticcries.
“Ourfellowshere,theywereveryupsetabouttheothers,beatingthatotherbear.So,theywentuptothoseothers,andtheytoldthemtheymustnotbebeatinganybear.Buttheywereverybadandangry,thosefellows.Therewasalotofshouting,andpushing,andbadlanguage.Oneofthosefellows,hecalledourfellowsthesisterfuckers.Ourfellows,theycalledtheotheronesthearse-holes.Thebadones,theycalledourfellowsmotherfuckingbastards.Ourfellows,theycalledthembrotherfuckers.Theotherones,theysaidalotmoreaboutsomething-and-anything-fucking.Ourfellows,theysaidbackalotabout-”
“Gettothepoint,Prabu.”
“Yes,Lin,”hesaid,listeningintently.Therewasalengthypause.
“Well?”Idemanded.
“Stillalotofbadlanguage,Lin,”hereplied,shrugginghelplessly.“Butsomeofit,Ihavetosay,isvery,veryfine,ifyouwanttohearit?”
“No!”
“Okay,”hesaid,atlast,“attheend,somebodycalleditthepolicetocome.Thentherewasabigfight.”
Hepausedagain,listeningtothenextinstalmentofthestory.Iturnedtolookatthewatchman,andsawthathewasasdeeplyengrossedintheunfoldingsagaastheprisonerswere.Hechewedpaanashelistened,histhorn-bushofamoustachetwitchingupanddown,andunconsciouslyemphasisinghisinterest.Aroarofapprovalforsomethinginthestorywentupfromtheattentiveprisoners,andthewatchmanwasunitedwiththemintheappreciativeshout.
“Atfirst,theotherfellowswerewinningthatbigfight.Somuchfightingtherewas,Lin,likeinMahabharata.Thosebadfellowshadafewfriends,whoallmadeacontributionofpunchesandkickingandslappingwithslippers.Then,Kanothebear,hegotupset.Justbeforethepolicearrived,Kanothebeargotintothatfight,tohelphisbear-handlingfellows.Hestoppedthatfighttoofast.Hewasknockingthoseotherfellowsright,andleftalso.ThatKanoisaverygoodfightingbear.Hebeatthosebadfellows,andalltheirfriends,andgavethemasolidpasting!”
“Andthentheblueguysgotarrested,”Iconcludedforhim.
“Sadtosayit,yes.Arrested,theywere,forthechargeofBreakingthePeaces.”
“Okay.Let’stalk.”
Prabaker,thewatchman,andItooktwostepsawayfromthegateandstoodatthebaremetaldesk.Overmyshoulder,Icouldseethatthemenatthegatewerestrainingtohearourconversation.
“What’stheHindiwordforbail,Prabu?Findoutifwecanbailtheguysoutofjail.”Prabakerasked,butthewatchmanshookhishead,andtoldusthatitwasoutofthequestion.
“Isitpossibleformetopaythefine?”IaskedinMarathi,usingthecommonlyacceptedeuphemismforapolicebribe.
Thewatchmansmiled,andshookhishead.Apolicemanwashurtinthescuffle,heexplained,andthematterwasoutofhishands.
Shruggingmyhelplessness,IturnedbacktothegateandtoldthementhatIcouldn’tbailorbribethemoutofthejail.TheyrattledawayatmeinsuchaswiftandgarbledHindithatIcouldn’tunderstandthem.
“No,Lin!”Prabakerannounced,beamingasmileatme.“Theydon’tworryforthemselves.TheyworryforKano!Heisarrestedalso,thatbear.Theyareveryworriedfortheirbear.Thatiswhattheywantyoutohelpthemfor!”
“Thebearisarrested?”Iaskedthewatchman,inMarathi.
“Ji,ha!”hereplied,aflourishofprideripplinginhiswildmoustache.Sir,yes!“Thebearisincustodydownstairs!”
IlookedatPrabaker,andheshrugged.
“Maybeweshouldseeitthatbear?”hesuggested.
“Ithinkweshouldseeitthatbear!”Ireplied.
Wetookthesteelstepsdowntotheground-floorlevel,andweredirectedtoarowofcellsdirectlybeneaththeroomswe’dseenupstairs.Aground-levelwatchmanopenedoneoftherooms,andweleanedinsidetoseeKanothebearsittinginthemiddleofadarkandemptycell.Itwasalargeroom,withakeyholetoiletinthefloorinonecorner.Thehugemuzzledbearwaschainedathisneckandonhispaws,andthechainspassedthroughametalgrilleatoneofthewindows.Hesatwithhisbroadbackagainstawall,andhislowerlegssplayedoutinfrontofhim.Hisexpression-andIhavenootherwayofdescribingthesetofhisfeatures,otherthanasanexpression-wasdisconsolateandprofoundlydistressed.Heletoutalong,heart-wrenchingsigh,evenaswewatchedhim.
Prabakerwasstandingalittlebehindme.Iturnedtoaskhimaquestion,andfoundthathewascrying,hisfacecontortedwithmiserablesobbing.BeforeIcouldspeak,hemovedpastmetowardthebear,evadingtheoutstretchedhandofthewatchman.HereachedKano,withhisarmsbeforehiminawideembrace,andpressedhimselftothecreature,restinghisheadagainstKano’sandstrokingtheshaggyfurwithmurmursoftenderness.Iexchangedglanceswiththeground-levelwatchman.Themanraisedhiseyebrows,andwaggedhisheadfromsidetosideenergetically.Hewasclearlyimpressed.
“Ididthatfirst,youknow,”Ifoundmyselfsaying,inMarathi.
“Afewweeksago.Ihuggedthatbearfirst.”
Thewatchmanwrinkledhislipsinapityingandcontemptuoussneer.
“Ofcourseyoudid,”hemocked.“Absolutely,youdid.”
“Prabaker!”Icalledout.“Canwegetonwiththis?”
Hepulledhimselfawayfromthebearandapproachedme,wipingtearsfromhiseyeswiththebacksofhishandsashewalked.HiswretchednesswassocompletethatIwasmovedtoputmyarmaroundhimtocomforthim.
“Ihopeyouarenotminding,Lin,”hecautioned.“Ismellquitemuchlikebears.”
“It’sokay,”Iansweredhimsoftly.“It’sokay.Let’sseewhatwecando.”
Tenmoreminutesofdiscussionwiththewatchmenandtheotherguardsresolvedthatitwasimpossibleforustobailoutthehandlersortheirbear.Therewasnothingtobedone.Wereturnedtothemetalgateandinformedthebear-handlersthatwewereunabletohelpthem.TheybrokeintoanotheranimateddialoguewithPrabaker.
“Theyknowallthatwecannotbehelping,”Prabakerclarifiedforme,afterafewminutes.“Whattheywantistobeinthatlock-upcellwithKano.TheyareworriedforKanobecauseheislonely.
Sinceababy,hehasneverbeensleepingalone,evenonenight.
Forthatonly,theyareabigworried.TheysaythatKano,hewillbefrightened.Hewillhaveabadsleep,andhavetoomanybaddreams.Hewillbecrying,forhisloneliness.Andhewillbeashamed,tobeinthejail,becauseheisnormallyaveryfinecitizen,thatbear.Theywantonlytogodowntothatlock-upcellwithKano,andkeephimsomegoodcompanies.”
Oneofthebear-handlersstaredintomyeyeswhenPrabakerfinishedhisexplanation.Themanwasdistraught.Hisfacewascreasedwithworry.Anguishdrewhislipsbackintosomethingthatresembledasnarl.Herepeatedonephraseagainandagain,hopingthatwithrepetitionandtheforceofhisemotionhemightmakemeunderstand.Suddenly,Prabakerburstintotearsoncemore,sobbinglikeachildashegraspedthemetalbarsofthegate.
“What’shesaying,Prabu?”
“Hesaysamanmustlovehisbear,Lin,”Prabakertranslatedforme.“Hesayslikethat.Amanmustlovehisbear.”
Negotiationswiththewatchmenandtheotherguardswerespiritedoncewepresentedthemwitharequestthattheycouldgrantwithoutbendingtherulestotheirbreakingpoint.Prabakerthrivedinthetheatricallyenergeticbarter,protestingandpleadingwithequalvigour.Atlasthearrivedatanagreedsum-twohundredrupees,abouttwelveAmericandollars-andthemoustachioedwatchmanunlockedthegateforthebear-handlerswhileIhandedoverthebundleofnotes.Inastrangeprocessionofpeopleandpurposes,wefileddownthesteelstairs,andtheground-floorwatchmanunlockedthecellthathousedKano.Atthesoundoftheirvoices,thegreatbearrosefromhisseatedposition,andthenfellforwardonallfours,draggeddownwardbythechains.Thebearswayeditsheadfromsidetosideinajoyfuldance,andpawedattheground.Whenthebear-handlersrushedtogreethim,Kanodrovehissnoutintotheirarmpits,andnuzzledintheirlong,dread-lockedhair,snufflingandsniffingattheirscent.Fortheirpart,thebluemensmotheredhiminaffectionatecaresses,andsoughttoeasethestressoftheheavychains.Weleftthemintheenclosureofthatembrace.WhenthesteelcelldoorslammedshutonKanoandhishandlersthesoundrattledthroughtheemptyparadeground,gougingechoesfromthestone.IfeltthatsoundasashiverinmyspineasPrabakerandIwalkedoutofthepolicecompound.
“Itisaveryfinethingthatyouhavedonetonight,Linbaba,”
Prabakergushed.“Amanmustlovehisbear.Thatiswhattheysaid,thosebear-handlingfellows,andyouhavemadeitcometrue.Itisavery,very,veryfinethingthatyouhavedone.”
Wewokeasleepingcabdriveroutsidethepolicestation,onColabaCauseway.Prabakerjoinedmeinthebackseat,enjoyingthechancetoplaytouristinoneofthecabshefrequentlydrove.Asthetaxipulledoutfromthekerb,Iturnedtoseethathewasstaringatme.Ilookedaway.Amomentlater,Iturnedmyheadandfoundthathewasstillstaring.Ifrownedathim,andhewaggedhishead.Hesmiledhisworld-embracingsmileforme,andplacedhishandoverhisheart.
“What?”Iaskedirritably,althoughhissmilewasirresistible,andheknewit,andIwasalreadysmilingwithhiminmyheart.
“Aman…”hebegan,intoningthewordswithsacramentalsolemnity.
“Notagain,Prabu.”“…mustlovehisbear,”heconcluded,pattingathischestandwagginghisheadfrantically.
“Oh,Godhelpme,”Imoaned,turningagaintolookattheawkwardstirandstretchofthewakingstreet.
Attheentrancetotheslum,PrabakerandIseparatedashemadehiswaytoKumar’schaishopforanearlybreakfast.Hewasexcited.OuradventurewithKanothebearhadgivenhimafascinatingnewstory-withhimselfcastinanimportantrole-tosharewithParvati,oneofKumar’stwoprettydaughters.Hehadn’tsaidanythingtomeaboutParvati,butI’dseenhimtalkingtoher,andIguessedthathewasfallinginlove.InPrabaker’swayofcourtship,ayoungmandidn’tbringflowersorchocolatestothewomanheloved:hebroughtherstoriesfromthewiderworld,wheremengrappledwithdemonsofdesire,andmonstrousinjustice.Hebroughthergossipandscandalsandintimatesecrets.Hebroughtherthetruthofhisbraveheart,andthemischievous,awe-struckwonderthatwasthewellspringofhislaughter,andofthatsky-widesmile.AndasIwatchedhimscurrytowardthechaishop,Isawthatalreadyhisheadwaswaggingandhishandswerewavingasherehearsedthestorythathebroughttoherasthenewday’sgift.
Iwalkedonintothegreypre-morningastheslummurmureditselfawake.Smokeswirlingfromahundredsmallfiresrovedthelanes.
Figureswrappedincolouredshawlsemerged,andvanishedinthemistystreams.Thesmellsofrotiscookingonkerosenestoves,andchaiboilinginfragrantpotsjoinedthepeople-smellsofcoconuthairoil,sandalwoodsoap,andcamphor-soakedclothing.
Sleepyfacesgreetedmeateveryturninthewindinglanes,smilingandofferingtheblessingsofthemorninginsixlanguagesandasmanydifferentfaiths.Ienteredmyhutandlookedwithnewfondnessatthehumble,comfortableshabbinessofit.Itwasgoodtobehome.
Icleanedupthemessinmyhutandthenjoinedthemorningprocessionofmenwhofiledoutontotheconcretepierthatweusedasalatrine.WhenIreturned,Idiscoveredthatmyneighbourshadpreparedtwofullbucketsofhotwaterformybath.Irarelybotheredwiththelaboriousandtime-consumingprocedureofheatingseveralpotsofwateronthekerosenestove,preferringthelazier,iflessluxurious,optionofacold-waterbath.Knowingthat,myneighbourssometimesprovideditforme.
Itwasnosmallservice.Water,themostpreciouscommodityinanyslum,hadtobecarriedfromthecommunalwellinthelegalcompound,somethreehundredmetresawaybeyondthebarbedwire.
Becausethewellwasonlyopentwiceaday,therewerehundredsofpeopleintheshoveandwrestleforwater,andeachbucketwasdraggedintothelightwithbluffandscratchandshout.Carriedbackandhoistedthroughthewire,thewaterhadtobeboiledinsaucepansonsmallkerosenestoves,atsomecostoftherelativelyexpensivefuel.Yetwhentheydidthatforme,noneofmyneighboursevertookcreditforitorexpectedthanks.ThewaterIusedmightVebeenboiledandbroughttherebyAmeer’sfamilyasasignofappreciationforthetreatmentI’dgivenhim.
Itmight’vecomefrommynearestneighbour,oritmight’vebeenprovidedbyoneofthehalfdozenpeoplewhostoodaroundandwatchedmebathe.Iwouldneverknow.Itwasoneofthesmall,uncelebratedthingspeopledidformeeveryweek.
Inasense,theghettoexistedonafoundationofthoseanonymous,unthankabledeeds;insignificantandalmosttrivialinthemselves,butcollectivelyessentialtothesurvivaloftheslum.Wesoothedourneighbours’childrenasiftheywereourownwhentheycried.Wetightenedalooseropeonsomeoneelse’shutwhenwenoticeditsagging,andadjustedthelayofaplasticroofaswepassedby.Wehelpedoneanother,withoutbeingasked,asifwewereallmembersofonehugetribe,orfamily,andthethousandhutsweresimplyroomsinourmansionhome.
Athisinvitation,IbreakfastedwithQasimAliHussein.Wedranksweetteaspicedwithclove,andatewaffle-stylerotisfilledwithgheeandsugar,androlledintotubes.Ranjit’slepershaddeliveredanewbatchofmedicinesandbandagesonthepreviousday.BecauseIwasawayallafternoon,they’dleftthebundleswithQasimAli.Wesortedthroughthemtogether.QasimAlicouldn’treadorwriteEnglish,andheinsistedthatIexplainthecontentsandusesofthevariouscapsules,tablets,andsalvesthatI’dordered.Oneofhissons,Ayub,satwithus,andwrotethenameanddescriptionofeachmedicineintheUrduscriptontinyfragmentsofpaper,andpatientlyattachedalabeltoeverycontainerortubeofcreamwithadhesivetape.Ididn’tknowitthen,butQasimAlihadchosenAyubtobemyassistant,tolearneverythingpossibleaboutmedicinesandtheiruses,sothathecouldreplacemewhenthetimecame-astheheadmanwassurethatitwould-formetoleavetheslum.
Itwaseleveno’clockwhenIfinallyfoundtimetostopatKarla’ssmallhouseneartheColabaMarket.Therewasnoanswertomyknocking.
Herneighbourstoldmeshe’dgoneoutanhourearlier.Theyhadnoideawhenshewouldreturn.Iwasannoyed.I’dleftmybootsandjeansinside,andIwasanxioustoretrievethem,togetoutofthoseloosebutuncomfortableclothes,thoseclothesthatwerehers.Ihadn’texaggeratedwhenI’dtoldherthatthejeans,T-shirt,andbootsweremyonlyclothes.Inmyhuttherewereonlytwolungis,whichIworeforsleeping,bathing,orforwhenIwashedmyjeans.Icould’veboughtnewclothes-aT-shirt,jeans,andtrackshoeswould’vecostmenomorethanfourorfiveAmericandollarsintheclothingbazaaratFashionStreet-butIwantedmyownclothes,theclothesIfeltrightin.Ileftagrumbleofwordsforherinanote,andsetofftokeepmyappointmentwithKhaderbhai.
ThegreathouseonMohammedAliRoadseemedtobeemptywhenIarrived.Thesixpanelsofthestreetdoorwerefoldedback,andthespaciousmarbleentrancehallwasexposed.Thousandsofpeoplewalkedpasteveryhour,butthehousewaswellknownandno-oneonthestreetseemedtopayanyattentiontomeasIentered,knockingonthegreenpanelstoannouncemyarrival.
Afterafewmoments,Nazeercametogreetme,hisfrownvaguelyhostile.Hedirectedmetoswapmystreetshoesforapairofhouseslippers,andthenledmealongatall,narrowcorridorintheoppositedirectiontothatoftheroomI’dvisitedthenightbefore.Wepassedanumberofclosedroomsasthecorridorwoundthroughtworightturns,andeventuallycameoutuponaninnercourtyard.
Theverylarge,ovalspacewasopentotheskyinthecentreasifagreatholehadbeencutinthethickplasterworkoftheceiling.Itwaspavedwithheavy,squareMaharashtrianstone,andsurroundedbypillaredarchesthatgaveacloistereffect.Thereweremanyplantsandfloweringshrubsinthewidecircleoftheinteriorgarden,andfivetall,slenderpalms.ThefountainthatI’dheardfromthemeetingroom,wherewe’dtalkedaboutsuffering,wasthecentrepiece.Itwasacircleofmarbleaboutametreinheightandfourmetresindiameterwithasinglehuge,uncutboulderinthecentre.Waterseemedtospoutfromtheverycoreoftheenormousstone.Atitspeak,thesmallfountaincurvedintoalily-shapedplumebeforesplashinggentlyontothesmooth,roundedsurfacesoftheboulderandflowingwithrhythmic,musicalflourishesintothepondofthefountain.
Khaderbhaiwassittinginacaneemperorchair,toonesideofthefountain.Hewasreadingabook,whichheclosedandplacedonaglass-toppedtablewhenIarrived.
“Salaamaleikum,Mr.Lin,”hesmiled.Peacebewithyou.
“Waaleikumsalaam.Aapkaisehain?”Andwithyoubepeace.Howareyou,sir?
“Iamwell,thankyou.MaddogsandEnglishmenmayverywellbeoutandaboutinthemiddaysun,butIprefertosithere,intheshadeofmyhumblegarden.”
“Notsohumble,Khaderbhai,”Iremarked.
“Doyouthinkitaltogethertoogrand?”
“No,no.Ididn’tmeanthat,”Isaidhurriedly,becausethat’spreciselywhatI’dbeenthinking.Icouldn’thelpbutrecallthatheownedtheslumwhereIlived;thedusty,barrenslumoftwenty-fivethousandpeople,wherenothinggreenexistedaftereightrainlessmonths,andtheonlywaterwasrationedfromwellsthatwerepadlockedshut,mostofthetime.“ThisisthemostbeautifulplaceI’veeverseeninBombay.Icouldn’thaveimaginedthisfromthestreetoutside.”
Hestaredatme,forafewmomentsasifmeasuringtheexactwidthanddepthofthelie,andthenwavedmetoasmall,backlessstoolthatwastheonlyotherchairinthecourtyard.
“Pleasesitdown,Mr.Lin.Haveyoueaten?”
“Yes,thankyou.Ihadalatebreakfast.”
“Allowmetoserveyoutea,atleast.Nazeer!Idhar-ao!”heshouted,hisvoicestartlingapairofdovesthathadbeenpeckingforcrumbsathisfeet.ThebirdsflewupandflappedaroundNazeer’schestasheentered.Theyseemedtobeunafraidofhim,eventorecognisehim,andtheysettledontheflagstonesoncemore,followinghimliketamepuppies.
“Chaibono,Nazeer,”Khaderbhaicommanded.Histonewiththedriverwasimperious,butnotsevere,andIguessedthatitwastheonlytoneNazeerfeltcomfortablewithandrespected.TheburlyAfghanwithdrewsilently,thebirdshop-runningbehindhimintotheveryhouse.
“Khaderbhai,there’ssomethingIwanttosaybeforewe…talkaboutanythingelse,”Ibeganquietly.Mynextwordsdrewhisheadupswiftly,andIknewthatIhadhisfullattention.“It’saboutSapna.”
“Yes,goon,”hemurmured.
“Well,Ithoughtaboutitalotlastnight,whatweweretalkingabout,andwhatyouaskedmetodoatthemeeting,tosortofhelpyouandsoon,andI’vegotaproblemwithit.”Hesmiled,andraisedoneeyebrowquizzically,buthesaidnothingmore,andIwasforcedtoexplainmyselffurther.
“IknowI’mnotsayingthisverywell,butIjustdon’tfeelrightaboutit.Nomatterwhatthisguydid,Idon’twanttobeputinapositionofbeing…well,akindofcop.Iwouldn’tfeelrightaboutworkingwiththem,evenindirectly.Inmycountry,thephrasehelpingthepolicewiththeirenquiriesisaeuphemismforinformingonsomeone.I’msorry.Iunderstandthatthisguykilledpeople.Ifyouwanttogoafterhim,that’syourbusiness,andI’mhappytohelpyououtinanywayIcan.ButIdon’twanttobeinvolvedwiththecops,ortohelpthemdoit.
Ifyou’reworkingoutsidethelaw,onyourown-ifyouwanttogoafterhim,andputhimoutofactionpersonally,forwhateverreasonofyourown-thenI’llbegladtohelp.Youcancountmein,ifyouwanttofighthisgang,whoevertheyare.”
“Isthereanythingmore?”
“No.That’s…that’s…prettymuchit.”
“Verywell,Mr.Lin,”hereplied.Hisfacewasimpassiveashestudiedme,buttherewasapuzzlinglaughterinhiseyes.“Imayputyourmindatrest,Ithink,inassuringyouthatwhileIdoassistalargenumberofpolicemenfinancially,sotosay,Idonoteverworkwiththem.Icantellyou,however,thatthematterofSapnaisadeeplypersonalone,andIwouldaskthatifyoushouldwishtoconfideanythingatallaboutthisterriblefellow,youwillspeakofitonlytome.Youwillnotspeaktoanyofthegentlemenyoumethere,lastnight,aboutthisSapnaor…ortoanyoneelse.Isthatagreed?”
“Yes.Yes,that’sagreed.”
“Wasthereanythingelse?”
“Well,no.”
“Excellent.Then,tobusiness:Ihaveverylittletimetoday,Mr.
Lin,soIwillcomedirectlytothepointofthematter.ThefavourthatImentionedyesterday-Iwantyoutoteachonesmallboy,namedTariq,theEnglishlanguage.Noteverything,ofcourse,butenoughthathisEnglishwillbeconsiderablyimproved,andthathewillhavesomelittleadvantagewhenhebeginshisformalstudies.”
“Well,I’llbehappytotry,”Istammered,bewilderedbytherequest,butnotdauntedbyit.IfeltcompetenttoteachthefundamentalsofthelanguagethatIwroteineverydayofmylife.“Idon’tknowhow_goodI’llbeatit.Ithinktheremustbealotofpeoplewho’dbebetterthanIwould,butI’mhappytotakeashotatit.Wheredoyouwantmetodoit?WouldIcomeheretoteachhim?”
Helookedatmewithbenign,almostaffectionatecondescension.
“Why,hewillstaywithyou,naturally.Iwantyoutohavehimwithyou,constantly,forthenexttenortwelveweeks.Hewilllivewithyou,eatwithyou,sleepatyourhouse,gowhereyougo.IdonotsimplywantthathelearnstheEnglish_phrases.IwantthathelearnstheEnglishway.Yourway.Iwantthathelearnsthis,withyourconstantcompany.”
“But…butI’mnotEnglish,”Iobjectedstupidly.
“Thisisnomatter.YouareEnglishenough,don’tyouthink?Youareaforeigner,andyouwillteachhimthewaysofaforeigner.
Itismydesire.”
Mymindwashot,mythoughtsscatteredandflappinglikethebirdsthathe’dstartledwithhisvoice.Therehadtobeawayout.Itwasimpossible.
“ButIliveatthezhopadpatti.Youknowthat.It’sveryrough.
Myhutisreallysmall,andthere’snothinginit.He’llbeuncomfortable.Andit’s…it’sdirtyandcrowdedand…wherewouldhesleepandallthat?”
“Iamawareofyoursituation,Mr.Lin,”hereplied,alittlesharply.“Itispreciselythis,yourlifeinthezhopadpatti,thatIwanthimtoknow.Tellmeyourhonestopinion,doyouthinkthattherearelessonstobelearnedintheslum?Doyouthinkhewillbenefitfromspendingsometimewiththecity’spoorestpeople?”
Ididthinkthat,ofcourse.Itseemedtomethateverychild,beginningwiththesonsanddaughtersoftherich,wouldbenefitfromtheexperienceofslumlife
“Yes,IsupposeIdo.Idothinkit’simportanttoseehowpeoplelivethere.Butyouhavetounderstand,it’sahugeresponsibilityforme.I’mnotdoingaspectacularjoboflookingaftermyself.Idon’tknowhowIcouldlookafterakid.”
Nazeerarrivedwiththeteaandapreparedchillum.
“Ah,hereisourtea.Weshallfirstsmoke,yes?”
Wefirstsmoked.Nazeersquattedonhishaunchestosmokewithus.AsKhaderbhaipuffedontheclayfunnel,Nazeergavemeacomplexseriesofnods,frowns,andwinksthatseemedtosay,Look,seehowthemastersmokes,seewhatagreatlordheis,seehowmuchheis,thatyouandIwillneverbe,seehowluckywearetobeherewithhim.NazeerwasaheadshorterthanIwas,butIguessedthathewasatleastseveralkilosheavier.Hisneckwassothickthatitseemedtodrawhispowerfulshouldersuptowardshisears.Thebulkyarmsthatstretchedtheseamsofhislooseshirtappearedtobeonlyslightlymoreslenderthanhisthighs.Hisbroad,permanentlyscowlingfacewascomposedofthreedownwardcurves,somethingliketheinsigniaofsergeant’sstripes.Thefirstofthemconsistedofhiseyebrows,whichbeganalittleaboveandinthecentreofhiseyes,anddescendedwithbristlingunrulinessalongtheslopeofhisfrowntotheleveloftheeyesthemselves.
Thesecondcurvebeganinthedeepgroovesatthewingsofhisnose,anddividedhisfaceallthewaytothejaw.Thethirdwasdrawnbythedesperate,pugnaciousunhappinessofhismouth,theupside-downhorseshoeofbadluckthatfatehadnailedtothedoorpostofhislife.
Aridgeofpurplishscartissuewasprominentonthebrownskinofhisforehead.Hisdarkeyesmovedintheirdeephollowslikehuntedthings,constantlyseekingconcealment.Hisearslookedasthoughthey’dbeenchewedbysomebeastthathadblunteditsteethonthem,andgivenupthetask.Hismoststrikingfeaturewashisnose,aninstrumentsohugeandmagnificentlypendulousthatitseemeddesignedforsomepurposealtogethermoregrandthanmerelyinhalingairandfragrances.Ithoughthimugly,then,whenIfirstknewhim,notsomuchfortheunbeautifulsetofhisfeaturesasfortheirjoylessness.ItseemedtomethatI’dneverseenahumanfaceinwhichthesmilehadbeensoutterlydefeated.
Thechillumreturnedtomeforthethirdtime,butthesmokewashotandtastedfoul.Iannouncedthatitwasfinished.Nazeerseizeditfrommeroughlyandpuffedwithfuriousdetermination,managingtoextractadirtybrowncloudofsmoke.Hetappedthegitakstoneoutontohispalmtorevealatinyresidueofwhiteash.MakingsurethatIwaswatching,heblewtheashfromhishandtothegroundatmyfeet,clearedhisthroatmenacingly,andthenleftus.
“Nazeerdoesn’tlikemeverymuch.”
Khaderbhailaughed.Itwasasuddenandveryyouthfullaugh.Ilikedit,andIwasmovedtojoinhim,thoughIdidn’treallyunderstandwhyhewaslaughing.
“DoyoulikeNazeer?”heasked,stilllaughing.
“No,IguessIdon’t,”Ianswered,andwelaughedalltheharder.
“YoudonotwanttoteachTariqEnglish,becauseyoudonotwanttheresponsibility,”hesaid,whenthelaughterhadsubsided.
“It’snotjustthat…well,yes,itisjustthat.It’s…”Ilookedintothosegoldeneyes,pleadingwiththem.“I’mnotverygoodwithresponsibility.Andthis…thisisalotofresponsibility.It’stoomuch.Ican’tdoit.”
Hesmiled,andreachedouttoresthishandonmyforearm.
“Iunderstand.Youareworried.Itisnatural.YouareworriedthatsomethingmighthappentoTariq.Youareworriedthatyouwillloseyourfreedomtogowhereyouwant,andtodowhatyouwant.Thisisonlynatural.”
“Yes,”Imurmured,relieved.Hedidunderstand.HeknewthatIcouldn’tdowhatheasked.Hewasgoingtoletmeoffthehook.
Sittingthere,onthelowstoolbesidehischair,Ihadtolookupathim,andIfeltatsomedisadvantage.Ialsofeltasuddenrushofaffectionforhim,anaffectionthatseemedtoproceedfromanddependupontheinequalitiesbetweenus.Itwasvassallove,oneofthestrongestandmostmysterioushumanemotions.
“Verywell.Mydecisionisthis,Lin-youwilltakeTariqwithyou,andhavehimremainwithyoufortwodays.If,afterthisforty-eighthours,youthinkitisimpossibleforthesituationtocontinue,youwillbringhimbackhere,andIwillasknomoreofyou.ButIamsurethathewillbenoproblemtoyou.Mynephewisafineboy.”
“Your…nephew?”
“Yes,thefourthsonofmyyoungestsister,Farishta.Heiselevenyearsold.HehaslearnedsomeEnglishwords,andhespeaksHindi,Pashto,Urdu,andMarathifluently.Heisnotsotallforhisage,butheismoststurdyinhishealth.”
“Yournephew-,”Ibeganagain,buthecutmeoffquickly.
“Ifyoufindthatyoucandothisthingforme,youwillseethatmydearfriendinthezhopadpatti,QasimAliHussein-youknowhim,ofcourse,astheheadman-hewillhelpyouineveryway.
Hewillarrangeforsomefamilies,includinghisown,toshareyourresponsibility,andprovidehomesfortheboytosleepin,aswellasyourown.TherewillbemanyfriendstohelpyoulookafterTariq.Iwanthimtoknowthehardestlifeofthepoorestpeople.Butaboveall,IwanthimtohavetheexperienceofanEnglishteacher.Thislastthingmeansagreatdealtome.WhenIwasaboy…”
Hepaused,allowinghisgazetoshiftandsettleonthefountainandthewetsurfaceofthegreat,roundboulder.Hiseyesgleamed,reflectingtheliquidlightonthestone.Thenagraveexpressionpassedacrossthemlikeacloud-shadowslinkingoversmoothhills,onasunnyday.
“So,forty-eighthours,”hesighed,bringinghimselftothemoment.“Afterthat,ifyoubringhimbacktome,Iwillnotthinktheworseofyou.Nowitistimeforyoutomeettheboy.”
Khaderbhaigesturedtowardthearchesofthecloister,behindme,andIturnedtoseethattheboywasalreadystandingthere.Hewassmallforhisage.Khaderbhaihadsaidthathewaselevenyearsold,butheseemedtobenomorethaneight.Dressedinclean,pressedkurta-pyjamaandleathersandals,heclutchedatiedcalicobundleinhisarms.HestaredatmewithsuchaforlornanddistrustfulexpressionthatIthoughthemightburstintotears.Khaderbhaicalledhimforward,andtheboyapproachedus,makingawidedetouraroundmetothefarsideofhisuncle’schair.Thecloserhecame,themoremiserableheseemed.
KhaderbhaispoketohimsternlyandswiftlyinUrdu,pointingatmeseveraltimes.Whenhefinished,theboywalkedtomystoolandextendedhishandtome.
“Helloverymuch,”hesaid,hiseyeshugewithreluctanceandfear.
Ishookhandswithhim,hissmallhandvanishinginmine.Nothingeverfitsthepalmsoperfectly,orfeelssoright,orinspiressomuchprotectiveinstinctasthehandofachild.
“Hellotoyou,too,Tariq,”Isaid,smilinginspiteofmyself.
Hiseyesflickeredatiny,hopefulsmileinresponse,butdoubtquicklysmotheredit.Helookedbacktohisuncle.Itwasalookofdesperateunhappiness,drawinghisclosedmouthwideandpullinghissmallnoseinsotightlythatitshowedwhiteatthecorners.
Khaderbhaireturnedthelook,staringstrengthintotheboy,thenstoodupandcalledforNazeeroncemoreinthathalf-shout.
“Youwillforgiveme,Mr.Lin.Thereareanumberofmattersthatrequiremyurgentattentions.Iwillexpectyouintwodays,ifyouarenothappy,na?Nazeerwillshowyouout.”
Heturnedwithoutlookingattheboy,andstrodeoffintotheshadowedarches.TariqandIwatchedhimleave,eachofusfeelingabandonedandbetrayed.Nazeerwalkedwithustothedoor.AsIchangedintomystreetshoes,Nazeerkneltandpressedtheboytohischestwithsurprisingandpassionatetenderness.
Tariqclungtohim,grabbinghishair,andhadtobeprisedfromtheembracewithsomeforce.Whenwestoodoncemore,Nazeergavemealookofeloquent,lingeringmenace-Ifanythinghappenstothisboy,youwillanswertomeforit-andturnedawayfromus.
Aminutelaterwewereoutside,onthestreetbesidetheNabilaMosque,boyandmanjoinedtightlyatthehandbutinnothingelseexceptourbewildermentatthepowerofthepersonalitythathadpushedustogetheragainstourwills.Tariqhadsimplybeenobedient,buttherewassomethingcraveninmyhelplessnesstoresistKhaderbhai.I’dcapitulatedtooreadily,andIknewit.
Self-disgustquicklybecameself-righteousness.Howcouldhedothistoachild,Iaskedmyself,hisownnephew,givehimupsoeasilytoastranger?Didn’theseehowreluctanttheboywas?
It’sacallousdisregardfortherightsandwell-beingofachild.Onlyamanwhothoughtofothersashisplaythings,wouldsurrenderachildtosomeonelike…likeme.
Furiousatmyfeeblepliancy-HowdidIlethimforcemetodothis?-andburningwithspiteandselfishness,IdraggedTariqalongatajoggingtrotasImarchedthroughtheswarmingstreet.
Justaswepassedthemainentrancetothemosque,themuezzinbegantorecitethecalltoprayerfromtheminaretsaboveourheads.
AllahhuAkbarAllahhuAkbarAllahhuAkbarAllahhuAkbarAsh-haduan-laIlaha-illallahAsh-haduan-laIlaha-illallah
Godisgreat,GodisgreatIbearwitnessthatthereisnogodbut_God…
Tariqtuggedatmywristswithbothhands,pullingmetoastop.
Hepointedattheentrancetothemosque,andthentothetoweraboveit,whereloudspeakersamplifiedthevoiceofthemuezzin.
Ishookmyhead,andtoldhimwehadnotime.Heplantedhisfeetandtuggedharderatmywrist.ItoldhiminHindiandMarathithatIwasn’taMuslim,andIdidn’twanttoenterthemosque.Hewasadamant,strainingtodragmetowardthedoorwayuntiltheveinsstoodoutathistemples.Atlasthebrokefreefrommygripandscamperedupthestepsofthemosque.Kickinghissandalsaside,hedartedinsidebeforeIcouldstophim.
Frustratedandwavering,Ihesitatedatthelarge,openarchwayofthemosque.Iknewthatitwaspermittedfornon-believerstoenter.
Peopleofanyfaithmayenteranymosqueandpray,ormeditate,orsimplyadmireandwonder.ButIknewthattheMuslimsregardedthemselvesasaminorityundersiegeinthepredominantlyHinducity.Violentconfrontationsbetweenreligionistswerecommonenough.Prabakerwarnedme,once,thatclasheshadoccurredbetweenmilitantHindusandMuslimsoutsidethatverymosque.
Ihadnoideawhattodo.Iwascertaintherewereotherexits,andiftheboydecidedtorunofftherewouldbelittlechanceoffindinghim.AthrobbingdreaddrummedinmyheartatthethoughtthatImighthavetoreturntoKhaderbhaiandtellhimI’dlosthisnephew,notahundredmetresfromwherehe’dentrustedtheboytome.
JustasImadeupmymindtogoinsideandsearchthemosque,Tariqcameintoview,passingfromrighttoleftacrossthehuge,ornatelytiledvestibule.Hishands,feet,andheadwerewet,anditseemedthathe’dwashedhimselfhurriedly.LeaningasfarintotheentranceasIdared,Isawtheboytakeupapositionattherearofagroupofmen,andbeginhisprayers.
Isatdownonanemptypush-cart,andsmokedacigarette.Tomygreatrelief,Tariqemergedafterafewminutes,collectedhissandals,andcameovertojoinme.Standingveryclosetome,helookedupintomyfaceandgavemeasmile-frown;oneofthosesplendidlycontradictoryexpressionsthatonlychildrenseemtomaster,asifhewereafraidandhappyatthesametime.
“Zuhr!Zuhr!”hesaid,indicatingthatitwasthetimeofthenoonprayer.Hisvoicewasremarkablyfirmforsuchasmallchild.“IamthankyouforGod.AreyouthankyouforGod,Linbaba?”
Ikneltononekneeinfrontofhim,andseizedhisarms.Hewinced,butIdidn’trelaxthegrip.Myeyeswereangry.Iknewthatmyfacelookedhardandperhapsevencruel.
“Don’tyoueverdothatagain!”Isnappedathim,inHindi.
“Don’tyoueverrunawayfrommeagain!”
Hefrownedatme,defiantandafraid.Thenhisyoungfacehardenedintothemaskweusetofightbacktears.Isawhiseyesfill,andonetearescapedtorolldownhisflushedcheek.Istood,andtookastepawayfromhim.Glancingaroundme,Isawthatafewmenandwomenhadstoppedonthestreettostareatus.Theirexpressionsweregrave,althoughnotyetalarmed.Ireachedouttooffertheboyanopenpalm.Heputhishandinmine,reluctantly,andIstruckoutalongthestreettowardthenearesttaxistand.
Iturnedoncetolookovermyshoulder,andsawthatthepeoplewerefollowinguswiththeireyes.Myheartwasbeatingfast.Aviscidmixofemotionsboiledinme,butIknewthatmostofitwasrage,andmostoftheangerwasatmyself.Istopped,andtheboystoppedwithme.Ibreatheddeeplyforafewmoments,fightingforreasonablecontrol.WhenIlookeddownathim,Tariqwasstaringatmeintentlywithhisheadcockedtooneside.
“I’msorryIgotangrywithyou,Tariq,”Isaidcalmly,repeatingthewordsinHindi.“Iwon’tdoitagain.Butplease,pleasedon’trunawayfrommelikethat.Itmakesmeveryscaredandworried.”
Theboygrinnedatme.Itwasthefirstrealsmilehegaveme.IwasstartledtoseethatitwasverysimilartoPrabaker’slunardiskofasmile.
“Oh,Godhelpme,”Isaid,sighingallthewayfromthecoreofmybones.“Notanotherone.”
“Yes,okayverymuch!”Tariqagreed,shakingmyhandwithgymnasticenthusiasm.“Godhelpyou,andme,allday,please!”
____________________
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
“Whenwillshebeback?”
“HowshouldIknow?Notlong,maybe.Shesaidtowait.”
“Idon’tknow.It’sgettinglate.Igottagetthiskidhometobed.”
“Whatever.It’sallthesametome,Jack.Shesaidtowait,that’sall.”
IglancedatTariq.Hedidn’tlooktired,butIknewhehadtobegettingsleepy.Idecidedthatarestwasagoodideabeforethewalkhome.WekickedoffourshoesandenteredKarla’shouse,closingthestreetdoorbehindus.Ifoundsomechilledwaterinthelarge,old-fashionedrefrigerator.Tariqacceptedaglass,andsatdownonapileofcushionstoflipthroughacopyofIndiaTodaymagazine.
LisawasinKarla’sbedroom,sittingonthebedwithherkneesdrawnup.Shewaswearingaredsilkpyjamajacket,andnothingelse.Apatchofherblondepubichairwasvisible,andIglimpsedreflexivelyovermyshouldertomakesurethattheboycouldn’tseeintotheroom.ShecradledabottleofJackDanielsinherfoldedarms.Herlongcurlyhairwastiedupintoalopsidedbun.Shewasstaringatmewithanexpressionofcalculatedappraisal,oneeyealmostclosed.Itremindedmeofthelookthatmarksmenconcentrateontheirtargetsinafiringrange.
“Sowhere’dyagetthekid?”
Isatonastraight-backedchair,straddlingit,sothatmyforearmscouldrestontheback.
“Isortofinheritedhim.I’mdoingsomeoneafavour.”
“Afavour?”sheasked,asifthewordwasaeuphemismforsomekindofinfection
“Yeah.AfriendofmineaskedmetoteachthekidalittleEnglish.”
“So,what’shedoinghere?Whyisn’theathome?”
“I’msupposedtokeephimwithme.That’showhe’ssupposedtolearn.”
“Youmeankeephimwithyouallthetime?Everywhereyougo?”“That’sthedeal.ButI’mhopingtogivehimbackaftertwodays.
Idon’tknowhowIgottalkedintoitinthefirstplace,really.”
Shelaughedoutloud.Itwasn’tapleasantsound.Thestateshewasingaveitaforcedandalmostviciousedge.Still,theheartofitwasrichandfull,andIthoughtitmight’vebeenanicelaugh,once.Shetookaswigfromthebottle,exposingoneroundbreastwiththemovement.
“Idon’tlikekids,”shesaidproudly,asifshewasannouncingthatshe’djustreceivedsomedistinguishedaward.Shetookanotherlongdrink.Thebottlewashalffull.Irealisedthatshewasearlydrunk,inthatsquallofcoherencebeforeslurredspeechandclumsinessandcollapse.
“Look,Ijustwanttogetmyclothes,”Imuttered,lookingaroundthebedroomforthem.“I’llpickthemup,andcomebackandseeKarlaanothertime.”
“I’llmakeyouadeal,Gilbert.”
“Thename’sLin,”Iinsisted,althoughthat,too,wasafalsename.
“I’llmakeyouadeal,Lin.I’lltellyouwhereyourclothesare,ifyouagreetoputthemonhere,infrontofme.”
Wedidn’tlikeeachother.Westaredacrossthekindofbristlinghostilitythat’ssometimesasgoodas,orbetterthan,mutualattraction.
“Assumingyoucanhandleit,”Idrawled,grinninginspiteofmyself,“what’sinitforme?”
Shelaughedagain,anditwasstronger,andmorehonest.
“You’reallright,Lin.Getmesomewater,willya?ThemoreofthisstuffIdrink,thegoddamnthirstierIget.”
Onmywaytothesmallkitchen,IcheckedonTariq.Theboyhadfallenasleep.Hisheadwastippedbackontothecushions,andhismouthwasopen.Onehandwascurledupunderhischin,andtheotherstillgraspedweaklyatthemagazine.Iremovedit,andcoveredhimwithalightwoollenshawlthatwashangingfromasetofhooks.Hedidn’tstir,andseemedtobedeepinsleep.InthekitchenItookabottleofchilledwaterfromtherefrigerator,snatcheduptwotumblers,andreturnedtothebedroom.
“Thekid’sasleep,”Isaid,handingheraglass.“I’lllethimcrashforawhile.Ifhedoesn’twakeupbyhimself,I’llgethimuplater.”
“Sithere,”shecommanded,pattingatthebedbesideher.Isat.
ShewatchedmeovertherimofherglassasIdrankfirstone,thenasecondfullglassoftheicedwater.“Thewater’sgood,”shesaid,afterawhile.“Haveyounoticedthatthewater’sgoodhere?Imean,reallygood.You’dexpectittobefuckingslime,ImeanbeingBombayandIndiaandall.
Peoplearesoscaredofthewater,butit’sreallymuchbetterthanthechemical-tastinghorse-pissthatcomesouttathefaucetbackhome.”
“Whereishome?”
“Whatthefuckdifferencedoesitmake?”Shewatchedmefrownimpatiently,andaddedquickly,“Don’tgetmad,keepyourgoddamnshirton.I’mnottryin’tobeasmart-ass.Ireallymeanit-whatdifferencedoesitmake?I’llnevergobackthere,andyou’llnevergothereinthefirstplace.”
“Iguessnot.”
“Godit’shot!Ihatethistimeoftheyear.It’salwaysworstjustbeforethemonsoon.Itmakesmecrazy.Doesn’tthisweathermakeyoucrazy?Thisismyfourthmonsoon.Youstarttocountinmonsoonsafteryou’vebeenhereawhile.Didierisanine-monsoonguy.Canyoubelievethat?NinefuckingmonsoonsinBombay.Howaboutyou?”
“Thisismysecond.I’mlookingforwardtoit.Ilovetherain,evenifitdoesturntheslumintoaswamp.”
“Karlatoldmeyouliveinoneoftheslums.Idon’tknowhowyoucanstandit-thatstink,allthosepeoplelivingontopofeachother.You’dnevergetmeinsideoneofthoseplaces.”
“Likemostthings,andmostpeople,it’snotasbadasitlooksfromtheoutside.”
Sheletherheadfallontooneshoulder,andlookedatme.Icouldn’treadherexpression.Hereyesglitteredinaradiant,almostinvitingsmile,buthermouthwastwistedinadisdainfulsneer.
“You’rearealfunnyguy,Lin.Howdidyoureallygethookedupwiththatkid?”
“Itoldyou.”
“Sowhat’shelike?”
“Ithoughtyoudidn’tlikekids.”
“Idon’t.They’reso…innocent.Exceptthatthey’renot.Theyknowexactlywhattheywant,andtheydon’tstoptilltheygetit.It’sdisgusting.AlltheworstpeopleIknowarejustlikebig,grown-upchildren.It’ssocreepyitmakesmesicktomystomach.”
Childrenmight’veturnedherstomach,butitseemedtobeimmunetothesearingeffectsofthesourmashwhisky.Shetippedthebottlebackanddrankoffagoodquarterofitinlong,slowswallows.That’stheone,Ithought.Ifshewasn’tdrunkbefore,sheisnow.Shewipedherlipswiththebackofherhandandsmiled,buttheexpressionwaslopsided,andthefocuswasspillingfromthebowlsofherchinablueeyes.Fallingandfadingasshewas,themaskofhermanyabrasiveattitudesbegantoslip,andshesuddenlylookedveryyoungandvulnerable.Thesetofherjaw-angry,fearing,anddislikeable-relaxedintoanexpressionthatwassurprisinglygentleandcompassionate.Hercheekswereroundandpink.Thetipofhernosewasturned-upslightly,andformedinsoftcontours.Shewasatwenty-four-year-oldwomanwiththefaceofagirl,unmarkedbythehollowsofcompromiseorthedeeplydrawnlinesofharddecisions.FromthefewthingsthatKarlahadtoldmeabouther,andwhatI’dseenatMadameZhou’s,herlifehadinfactbeenharderthanmost,butnoneofthatshowedinherface.
SheofferedmethebottleandIacceptedit,takingasip.Iheldontoitforafewmoments,andwhenshewasn’tlookingIplaceditonthefloorbesidethebed,discreetlyoutofherreach.Shelitacigaretteandmessedatherhair,spillingthelooselytiedbununtilthelongcurlsfelloveroneshoulder.Withherhandpoisedthere,ontopofherhead,thewidesleeveofhersilkjacketslippedpastherelbow,andexposedthepalestubbleofashavedarmpit.
Therewasnosignofotherdrugsintheroom,butherpupilswerecontractedtopinpoints,suggestingthatshe’dtakenheroinorsomeotheropiate.Whateverthecombination,itwassendingherswiftlyovertheedge.Shewasslumpeduncomfortablyagainstthebedstead,andshewasbreathingnoisilythroughhermouth.Alittletrickleofwhiskyandsalivadribbledfromthecornerofherslacklowerlip.
Still,shewasbeautiful.Thethoughtstruckmethatshewouldalwayslookbeautiful,evenwhenshewasbeingugly.Herswasabig,lovely,emptyface:thefaceofapom-pomgirlatafootballmatch,thefaceadvertisersusetohelpthemsellpreposterousandirrelevantthings.
“Sogoon,tellme.What’shelike,thatlittlekid?”
“Well,Ithinkhe’ssomekindofreligiousfanatic,”Iconfided,smiling,asIlookedovermyshoulderatthesleepingboy.“Hemademestopthreetimestoday,andthisevening,sohecouldsayhisprayers.Idon’tknowifit’sdoinghissoulanygood,buthisstomachseemstobeworkingfine.Hecaneatlikethey’regivingprizesforit.Hekeptmeintherestaurantformorethantwohourstonight,eatingeverythingfromnoodlesandgrilledfishtoicecreamandjelly.That’swhywe’relate.Iwould’vebeenhomeagesago,butIcouldn’tgethimoutoftherestaurant.It’sgoingtocostmeanarmandalegtokeephimforthenextcoupleofdays.HeeatsmorethanIdo.”
“DoyouknowhowHannibaldied?”sheasked.
“Comeagain?”
“Hannibal,thatguywiththeelephants.Don’tyouknowyourhistory?HecrossedtheAlps,withhiselephants,toattacktheRomans.”
“Yeah,Iknowwhoyou’retalkingabout,”Isaidtestily,irritatedbytheconversationalnonsequitur.
“Well,howdidhedie?”shedemanded.Herexpressionswerebecomingexaggerated,thegrossburlesqueofthedrunk.
“Idon’tknow.”
“Ha!”shescoffed.“Youdon’tknoweverything.”
“No.Idon’tknoweverything.”
Therewasalengtheningsilence.Shestaredatmeblankly.ItseemedthatIcouldseethethoughtsdriftingdownwards,throughtheblueofhereyes,likewhiteflakesinthebubbleofasnowdome.
“So,areyougoingtotellme?”Iprobedafterawhile.“Howdidhedie?”
“Whodie?”sheasked,mystified.
“Hannibal.Youweregoingtotellmehowhedied.”
“Oh,him.Well,hekindaledthisarmyofthirtythousandguysovertheAlpsintoItaly,andfoughttheRomansforlike,sixteenyears.Six-teengoddamnyears!Andhenevergotbeaten,evenonetime.Then,afteralotofothershit,hewentbacktohisowncountry,wherehebecameabighoncho,whatwithbeingabigheroandall.ButtheRomans,thoseguysneverforgotthatheembarrassedthefuckouttathem,sotheyusedpolitics,andtheygothisownpeopletoturnonhim,andkickhimout.Areyougettinganyofthis?”
“Sure.”
“Imeanreally,amIwastin’mygoddamntimeherewiththis?Idon’thavetodothis,youknow.Icanspendmytimewithalotbetterpeoplethanyou.IcanbewithanyoneIlike.Anyone!”
Theforgottencigarettewasburningdowntoherfingers.Iplacedtheashtrayunderitandpriseditloose,lettingitfallfromherhandintothebowl.Shedidn’tseemtonotice.“Okay,sotheRomansforcedHannibal’sownpeopletokickhimout,”Ipressed,actuallycuriousaboutthefateoftheCarthaginianwarrior.
“Theyexiledhim,”shecorrectedgrumpily.
“Exiledhim.Thenwhathappened?Howdidhedie?”
Lisastirredherheadfromthepillowssuddenly,hermovementsgroggy,andglaredatmewithwhatseemedtoberealmalevolence.
“What’ssospecialaboutKarla,huh?”shedemandedfuriously.
“I’mmorebeautifulthansheis!Takeagoodlook-mytitsarebetterthanhers.”
Shepulledthesilkjacketopenuntilshewasquitenaked,touchingatherbreastsclumsily.“Well?Aren’tthey?”
“They’re…verynice,”Imuttered.
“Nice?They’regoddamnbeautifuliswhattheyare.They’reperfect!Youwanttotouchthem,don’tyou?Here!”
Shesnatchedatmywristwithsurprisingspeed,anddraggedmyhandontoherthigh,nearthehip.Thefleshwaswarmandsmoothandsupple.Nothingintheworldissosoftandpleasingtothetouchastheskinofawoman’sthigh.Noflower,feather,orfabriccanmatchthatvelvetwhisperofflesh.Nomatterhowunequaltheymaybeinotherways,allwomen,oldandyoung,fatandthin,beautifulandugly,havethatperfection.It’sagreatpartofthereasonwhymenhungertopossesswomen,andsooftenconvincethemselvesthattheydopossessthem:thethigh,thattouch.
“HasKarlatoldyouwhatIdidatthePalace,huh?WhatIusedtodothere?”shesaidwithpuzzlinghostility,movingmyhandontothehardlittlemoundofblondehairbetweenherlegs.“MadameZhouhasusplaygamesthere.They’rebigongamesatthePalace.
Karlatoldyouaboutthosegames,didshe?Huh?BlindMan’sButt,didshetellyouaboutthat?Thecustomerswearblindfoldsandgetaprizeforguessingwhichoneofustheypushtheircockinto.Nohands,yasee.That’sthetrick.Didshetellyouanyofthis?DidshetellyouabouttheChair?That’sarealpopularnumber.Onegirlkneelsdownonherhandsandknees,see,thenanothergirlliesontopofher,backtoback,andtheytiethemtogether.Thecustomersgofromonetoanother,kindofamultiplechoice.Isthisturnin’youon,Lin?Areyougettin’hotwiththis?ItusedtoturnKarla’scustomerson,whenshebroughtthemtothePalace.Karlahasabusinesshead.Didyouknowthat?
IworkedatthePalace,butitwasjustajob,andallIevermadeoutofitwasmoney.She’stheonewhomadeitdirty.She’stheonewhomadeita…asickthing.Karla’stheonewho’lldoanythingtogetwhatshewants.Damnright,abusinesshead,andahearttomatch..”
Shewasrubbingmyhandagainstherselfwithbothofherownhands,grindingagainstitwithrollingmotionsofherhips.Shedrewupherknees,andherlegsparted.Myhandwasdrawntothelipsofhervagina,heavyandswollenandwet.Shepushedtwoofmyfingersinsidethedarkheat.
“Youfeelthat?”shemumbled,herteethclenchedandexposedinagrimsmile.“That’smusclepower,boy.That’swhatthatis.
That’strainingandpractice,hoursofit,monthsofit.MadameZhoumakesussquat,andsqueezedownhardonapencil,tobuildupagriplikeafist.Igotsofuckin’goodatit,Icouldwritealetterwiththegoddamnthing.Youfeelhowgoodthatis?
You’llneverfindanythingastightasthis,notanywhere.Karlaisn’tthisgood.Iknowsheisn’t.What’sthematterwithyou?
Don’tyouwannafuckme?Whatareyou,somekindafaggot?I…”
Shewasstillsqueezingdownonmyfingers,stillgraspingatmywrist,butthestrainingsmilefaded,andherfaceslowlyturnedaway.
“I…I…IthinkI’mgonnathrowup.”
Iwithdrewmyfingersfromherbody,andmyhandfromherweakeninggrip,andbackedawayfromthebedtowardsthebathroom.Hurriedlysoakingatowelincoldwaterandgrabbingupalargedishfromthebathroom,Ireturnedtofindhersprawledoutawkwardly,herhandsonherbelly.Istraightenedherintoamorecomfortableposition,coveringherwithalightcottonblanket.Idrapedthecooltoweloverherforehead.Shestirredalittle,butshedidn’tresist.Herfrowngraduallydissolvedintotheearnestmaskoftheunwell.
“Hecommittedsuicide,”shesaidsoftly,hereyesclosed.“ThatHannibal.TheyweregoingtoextraditehimbacktoRome,makehimfacechargesatatrial,sohekilledhimself.Howdoyalikethat?Afterallthatfighting,allthoseelephants,allthosebigbattles,hekilledhimself.It’strue.Karlatoldme.Karlaalwaystellsthetruth…evenwhenshe’slying…shesaidthattomeonce…Ialwaystellthetruth,evenwhenI’mlying…Fuck,Ilovethatgirl.Ilovethatgirl.Youknow,shesavedmefromthatplace-andyoudid,too-andshe’shelpingmetogetclean…todryout…gottadryout,Lin…Gilbert…gottagetofftheshit…Ilovethatgirl…”Sheslept.Iwatchedherforawhile,waitingtoseeifshewassick,ifshewouldwake,butshewaswrappedinunworriedsleep.
IwenttocheckonTariq,andhetoowassleepingsoundly.Idecidednottowakehim.Beingalone,inthatstillness,wasapiercingpleasure.Wealthandpower,inacitywherehalfthemanymillionswerehomeless,weremeasuredbytheprivacythatonlymoneycouldbuy,andthesolitudethatonlypowercoulddemandandenforce.ThepoorwerealmostneveraloneinBombay,andIwaspoor.
There,inthatbreathingroom,nosoundreachedmefromthequietingstreet.Imovedthroughtheapartmentfreely,unwatched.
Andthesilencewassweeter,itseemed,thepeacemoreprofound,forthepresenceofthetwosleepers,womanandchild.Abalmoffantasysoothedme.Therewasatime,once,whenI’dknownsuchalife:whenawomanandasleepingchildweremyown,andIwastheirman.
IstoppedatKarla’sclutteredwritingdesk,andcaughtsightofmyselfinawidemirroronthewallaboveit.Themomentaryfantasyofbelonging,thatlittledreamofhomeandfamily,hardenedandcrackedinmyeyes.Thetruthwasthatmyownmarriagehadcrumbledtoruin,andI’dlostmychild,mydaughter.ThetruthwasthatLisaandTariqmeantnothingtome,andImeantnothingtothem.ThetruthwasthatIbelongednowhereandtono-one.Surroundedbypeopleandhungryforsolitude,Iwasalwaysandeverywherealone.Worsethanthat,Iwashollow,empty,gougedoutandscrapedbarebytheescapeandflight.I’dlostmyfamily,thefriendsofmyyouth,mycountryanditsculture-allthethingsthathaddefinedme,andgivenmeidentity.Likeallthefugitivekind,themoresuccessfulIwas,thelongerandfurtherIran,thelessIkeptofmyself.
Buttherewerepeople,afewwhocouldreachme,afewnewfriendsforthenewselfIwaslearningtobecome.TherewasPrabaker,thattiny,life-adoringman.TherewasJohnnyCigar,andQasimAli,andJeetendraandhiswife,Radha:heroesofchaoswhoproppedupthecollapsiblecitywithbamboosticks,andinsistedonlovingtheirneighbours,nomatterhowfarthey’dfallen;nomatterhowbrokenorunlovelytheywere.TherewasKhaderbhai,therewasAbdullah,therewasDidier,andtherewasKarla.AndasIlookedintomyownhardeyesinthegreen-edgedmirror,Ithoughtaboutthemall,andaskedmyselfwhythosepeoplemadeadifference.Whythem?Whatisitaboutthem?Suchadisparategroup-therichestandthemostwretched,educatedandilliterate,virtuousandcriminal,oldandyoung-itseemedthattheonlythingtheyhadincommonwasapowertomakemefeel…something.
Onthedeskinfrontofmewasathick,leather-boundbook.IopeneditandsawthatitwasKarla’sjournal,filledwithentriesinherowneleganthandwriting.KnowingthatIshouldn’t,Iturnedthroughthepagesandreadherprivatethoughts.Itwasn’tadiary.Therewerenodatesonanyofthepages,andtherewerenoneoftheday-to-dayaccountsofthingsdoneandpeoplemet.Instead,therewerefragments.Someofthemwereculledfromvariousnovelsandothertexts,eachoneattributedtotherespectiveauthorandannotatedwithherowncommentsandcriticisms.Thereweremanypoems.Somehadbeencopiedoutfromselectionsandanthologiesandevennewspapers,withthesourceandthepoet’snamewrittenbeneath.Otherpoemswereherown,writtenoutseveraltimeswithawordoraphrasechangedandalineadded.Certainwordsandtheirdictionarymeaningswerelistedthroughoutthejournalandmarkedwithasterisks,formingarunningvocabularyofunusualandobscurewords.Andtherewererandom,stream-of-consciousnesspassagesthatdescribedwhatshe’dbeenthinkingorfeelingonacertainday.Otherpeoplewerementionedfrequently,yettheywereneveridentifiedexceptasheandshe.
OnonepagetherewasacrypticanddisturbingreferencetothenameSapna.Itread:
THEQUESTION:WhatwillSapnado?
THEANSWER:Sapnawillkillusall.
MyheartbegantobeatfasterasIreadthewordsthroughseveraltimes.Ididn’tdoubtshewastalkingaboutthesameman-theSapnawhosefollowershadcommittedthegruesomemurdersAbdulGhaniandMadjidhadtalkedabout,theSapnawhowashuntedbythepoliceandtheunderworldalike.Anditseemed,fromthatstrangecouplet,thatsheknewsomethingabouthim,perhapsevenwhohewas.Iwonderedwhatitmeant,andifshewasindanger.
Iexaminedthepagesbeforeandaftertheentrymorecarefully,butIfoundnothingmorethatmightconcernhim,orKarla’sconnectiontohim.Onthesecond-lastpageofthejournal,however,therewasonepassagethatclearlyreferredtome:
Hewantedtotellmethatheisinlovewithme.WhydidIstophim?AmIsoashamedthatitmightbetrue?Theviewfromthatplacewasincredible,amazing.Weweresohighthatwelookeddownonthekitesthatflewsohighabovethechildren’sheads.
HesaidthatIdon’tsmile.I’mgladhesaidthat,andIwonderwhy.
Beneaththatentryshe’dwrittenthewords:
Idon’tknowwhatfrightensmemore,thepowerthatcrushesusorourendlessabilitytoendureit.
Irememberedtheremarkverywell.Irememberedhersayingitaftertheslumhutshadbeensmashedanddraggedaway.Likesomanyofthethingsshesaid,ithadthekindofclevernessthatinsinuateditselfintomymemory.Iwassurprisedandperhapsalittleshockedtoseethatshe,too,hadrememberedthephrase,andthatshe’dcopieditdownthere-evenimprovingit,withmoreaphoristicroundnessthantheimprompturemarkhadpossessed.Issheplanningtousethosewordsagain,Iaskedmyself,withsomeone_else?
Thelastpagecarriedapoemthatshe’dwritten-hermostrecentadditiontothealmostcompletedjournal.Becauseitappearedonthepagefollowingherreferencetome,andbecauseIwassohungryforit,Ireadthepoemandtoldmyselfthatitwasmine.
Iletmyselfbelievethatitwasmeantforme,orthatatleastsomepartofitwasborninfeelingsthatweremine.Iknewitwasn’ttrue,butloveseldomconcernsitselfwithwhatweknoworwithwhat’strue.
TomakesurenonefollowedwhereyouledIusedmyhairtocoverourtracks.
Sunsetontheislandofourbednightroseeatingechoesandwewerebeachedthere,intanglesofflicker,candleswhisperingatourdriftwoodbacks.YoureyesabovemeafraidofthepromisesImightkeepregrettingthetruthwedidsaylessthantheliewedidn’t,Iwentindeep,Iwentindeep,tofightthepastforyou.
Nowwebothknowsorrowsaretheseedsofloving.
NowwebothknowIwillliveandIwilldieforthislove.
Standingthere,atthedesk,Isnatchedupapenandcopiedoutthepoemonasheetofpaper.Withthestolenwordsfoldedsecretlyinmywallet,IclosedthejournalandreplaceditexactlyasI’dfoundit.
Iwalkedtothebookshelf.Iwantedtostudythetitlesforcluestothewomanwho’dchosenthemandreadthem.Thesmalllibraryoffourshelveswassurprisinglyeclectic.ThereweretextsonGreekhistory,onphilosophyandcosmology,onpoetryanddrama.
Stendhal’sTheCharterhouseofParmainanItaliantranslation.AcopyofMadameBovaryintheoriginalFrench.ThomasMannandSchillerinGerman.DjunaBarnesandVirginiaWoolfinEnglish.ItookdownacopyofMaldoror,byIsidoreDucasse.Thepagesweredog-eared,andheavilyannotatedinKarla’sownhand.Itookoutanotherbook,aGermantranslationofGogol’sDeadSouls,andittooboreKarla’shand-writtennotesonmanypages.Sheconsumedherbooks,Isaw.Shedevouredherbooks,andwasunafraidtomarkthem,eventoscarthem,withherowncommentsandsystemofreferences.
Arowofjournals,similartotheoneI’ddiscoveredonthedesk,occupiedhalfofoneshelf,sometwentybooksinall.Itookoneofthemdownandflippedthroughit.Thefactthatit,liketheothers,waswritteninEnglish,struckmeforthefirsttime.ShewasborninSwitzerlandandshewasfluentinGermanandFrench,Iknew;butwhenshewroteouthermostintimatethoughtsandfeelingssheusedEnglish.Iseizedonthat,tellingmyselfthatthereweregoodandhopefulsignsinit.Englishwasmylanguage.
Shespoketoherself,fromherheart,inmylanguage.
Imovedaroundtheapartment,studyingthethingsshechosetosurroundherselfwithinherprivatelivingspace.Therewasanoilpaintingofwomencarryingwaterfromariver,withmatkasbalancedontheirheads,andchildrenfollowingwithsmallerpotsontheirownheads.Prominentlydisplayedonadedicatedshelfwasahandcarved,rosewoodfigureofthegoddessDurga.Itwassurroundedbyincenseholders.Inoticedanarrangementofeverlastingsandotherdriedflowers.Theyweremyownfavourites,andveryunusualinacitywherefreshflowerswereplentifulandinexpensive.Therewasacollectionoffoundobjects-ahugefrondfromadatepalmthatshe’dpickedupsomewhereandfixedtoonewall;shellsandriverstonesthatfilledalargeandwaterlessfishtank;adiscardedspinningwheelonwhichshe’ddrapedacollectionofsmall,brasstemple-bells.
Themostcolourfularticlesintheapartment,herclothes,hungfromanopenrackinonecornerofherroomratherthaninawardrobe.Theclothesweredividedintotwodistinctgroups,leftandrightoftherack.Ontheleftwerehernetworkingclothes-smartsuitswithlong,narrowskirts,andthesilversheathofabacklesseveningdress,amongotherglamorousdresses.Ontherightwereherprivateclothes,theloosesilktrousers,flowingscarves,andlong-sleevedcottonblousesthatsheworebychoice.
Undertherackofclotheswasarowofshoes,twodozenpairs.Attheendoftherowweremyboots,newlypolishedandlaceduptotheirtops.Iknelttopickthemup.Hershoeslookedsosmall,nexttomyown,thatItookoneofthemupinstead,andhelditinmyhandsforamoment.ItwasItalian,fromMilano,indarkgreenleather,andwithadecorativebucklestitchedtothesideandloopedaroundthelowheel.Itwasanelegant,expensiveshoe,buttheheelwasworndownslightlyononeside,andtheleatherwasscuffedinafewplaces.Isawthatshe,orsomeone,hadtriedtodisguisethepalescratchesbydrawingoverthemwithafelt-tippedpenthatwasalmost,butnotquite,therightshadeofgreen.
Ifoundmyclothesinaplasticbagbehindtheboots.They’dbeenlaunderedandfoldedneatly.Itookthem,andchangedintotheminthebathroom.Iheldmyheadunderthecold-watertapforafullminute.Dressedinmyoldjeansandcomfortableboots,andwithmyshorthairpushedbackintoitsfamiliar,messydisorder,Ifeltrefreshed,andmyspiritsrevived.
IreturnedtothebedroomtocheckonLisa.Shewassleepingcontentedly.Adiffidentsmileflickeredonherlips.Ituckedthesheetintothesidesofthebedtopreventherfromfalling,andadjustedtheoverheadfantoaminimumspeed.Thewindowswerebarred,andthefrontdoorsnappedtothelockpositionwhenitwasshutfromoutside.IknewthatIcouldleaveherthere,andshewouldbesafe.AsIstoodbesidethebed,watchingtheriseandfallofherchestinitssleepingrhythm,IthoughtaboutleavinganoteforKarla.IdecidedagainstitbecauseIwantedhertowonderaboutme-toaskherselfwhatI’dbeenthinkingandwhatI’ddonethere,inherhouse.Togivemyselfanexcusetoseeher,Ifoldedtheclothesshe’dgivenme,thedeadlover’sburialclothesthatI’djustdiscarded,andputtheminaplasticbag.Iplannedtowashthem,andreturnwiththeminafewdays.
IturnedtowakeTariqforourjourneyhome,buttheboywasstandinginthedoorway,clutchinghissmallshoulderbag.Hissleepyfaceworealookofhurtandaccusation.
“Youwantleaveme?”heasked.
“No,”Ilaughed,“butyou’dbealotbetteroffifIdid.Morecomfortable,anyway.Myplaceisn’tasniceasthis.”
Hefrowned,puzzledbytheEnglishwords,andnotatallreassured.
“Areyouready?”
“Yes,ready,”hemumbled,wagginghisheadfromsidetoside.
Thinkingofthelatrine,andthelackofwaterattheslum,Itoldhimtousethebathroombeforewewent,anddirectedhimtowashhisfaceandhandswell.Afterhe’dusedthetoilet,IgavehimaglassofmilkandasweetcakethatIfoundinKarla’skitchen.Westeppedoutintothedesertedstreet,andpulledthedoorlockedbehindus.Helookedbackatthehouseandatallthebuildingsaroundit,searchingforlandmarksthatwouldfixtheplaceinhismentalmap.Thenhefellintostep,besidebutalittleapartfromme.
Wewalkedontheroadbecausethefootpathswereoccupiedinmanyplacesbysleepingpavementdwellers.Theonlytrafficwastheoccasionaltaxiorpolicejeep.Everyshopandbusinesswasclosed,andonlyafewhousesorapartmentsshowedlightattheirwindows.Themoonwasalmostfull,butobscuredfromtimetotimebydense,broodingdriftsofcloud.Theywereharbingersofthemonsoon:thecloudsthatgatheredandthickenedeverynight,andwouldswell,withinthefollowingdays,untileverypartoftheskywascloggedwiththem,anditwouldrain,everywhereandforever.Wemadegoodtime.OnlyhalfanhourafterleavingKarla’sapartment,weturnedontothewidetrackthatskirtedtheeasterncurveoftheslum.Tariqhadsaidnothingonthewalk,andI,burdenedbyworryabouthowtocopewithhimandtheresponsibilityforhiswelfare-burdenedbytheboyhimself,itseemedtomethen-keptachurlishsilence.Onourleft,therewasalargeopenareaaboutthesizeofasoccerfieldthatwassetasideasalatrinezone,wherewomen,youngchildren,andelderlypeoplewenttorelievethemselves.Nothinggrewthere,andthewholeareawasdustyandbareaftereightmonthsofcontinuoussunshine.Onourrightwasthefringeoftheconstructionsite,markedhereandtherebylowpilesoftimber,latticedsteel,andothermaterials.Singlebulbs,suspendedfromlongextensionwires,litthemoundsofsupplies.Therewasnootherlightonthepath,andtheslum,stillsomefivehundredmetresaway,showedonlyfaintglimmersfromafewkerosenelamps.
ItoldTariqtofollowmystepsprecisely,knowingthatmanypeopleusedthetrackasalatrineafterdarkbecausetheywereafraidofratsorsnakesintheopenfield.Bysomemysterious,unspokenconsensus,anarrowanderraticpathwasalwaysleftcleanalongthecourseofthetrack,sothatlatecomersmightentertheslumwithoutsteppinginthefilththataccumulated.IcamehomelateatnightsooftenthatI’dlearnedhowtonegotiatetheeccentricmeanderofthatcleanpathwithoutstumblingortrippingontheedgesofthemanylargepotholesthatno-oneeverseemedinclinedtorepair.
Tariqfollowedmeclosely,strugglingdutifullytostepexactlywhereI’dwalked.Thestenchthereattheedgeoftheslumwasoverpoweringandsickeningforastranger,Iknew.I’dgrownaccustomedtoit,andhadevencometothinkofitwithakindofaffection,astheslum-dwellersdid.Thatsmellmeantwewerehome,safe,protectedbyourcollectivewretchednessfromthedangersthathauntedpoorpeopleinthecleaner,grandercitystreets.YetIneverforgotthespasmsofnauseaI’denduredwhenIfirstenteredtheslumasastranger.AndIrememberedthefearI’dfelt,inthatsmearofairsofoulitseemedtopoisonmylungswitheverybreath,andstaintheverysweatonmyskin.
Iremembered,andIknewthatTariqwassurelysufferingandsickenedandafraid.ButIsaidnothingtocomforthim,andIrefusedtheimpulsetotakehishand.Ididn’twantthechildwithme,,andIwasfuriouswithmyselfforbeingtooweaktotellKhaderbhaiasmuch.Iwantedtheboytobesickened.Iwantedhimtobeafraid.Iwantedhimsosickenedandafraidandunhappythathewouldpleadwithhisuncletotakehimfromme.
Thecracklingtensionofthatcruelsilencewasshatteredbyaburstofferociousbarking.Thehowlsofthatonedogsoonstirredviolentbarkingfromseveral,andthenmanyothers.Istoppedsuddenly,andTariqbumpedintomefrombehind.Thedogswereintheopenfield,andnotfaraway.Ipeeredintotheblackness,butIcouldn’tseethem.Isensedthatitwasalargepack,andspreadoutoverawidearea.Ilookedtothemassofhuts,calculatingthedistancetotheslumandthesafetyofitsbuildings.Justthen,thebayinghowlsreachedacrescendoofviolence,andtheycametrottingatusoutofthenight.
Twenty,thirty,fortymaddeneddogsformedthepackthatadvancedonusinawidecrescent,cuttingoffourretreattotheslum.
Thedangerwasextreme.Thosedogsthatweresocowedandobsequiousinthedaylighthoursformedthemselvesintovicious,feralpacksatnight.Theiraggressionandferocitywaslegendaryinalltheslumsthroughoutthecity,andinspiredgreatfear.
Attacksuponhumanbeingswerecommon.Itreateddogbitesandratbitesalmosteverydayinthelittleclinicatmyhut.Adrunkenmanhadbeensavagedbyapackofdogsontheedgeoftheslum,andwasstillrecoveringinhospital.Ayoungchildhadbeenkilledinthatveryspot,onlyamonthbefore.Hissmallbodyhadbeentorntopieces,andthefragmentswerestrewnacrosssuchawideareathatithadtakenthewholeofalongdaytolocateandretrievethemall.
Wewerestrandedonthedarkpath.Thedogsclosedtowithinafewmetres,swarmingaroundusandbarkingfuriously.Thenoisewasdeafeningandterrifying.Thebravestofthehoundsinchedcloserandcloser.Iknewtheywereonlysecondsfrommakingthefirstsnappingrushatus.Theslumwastoofarawaytoreachsafely.IthoughtIcouldmakeitalone,sufferingafewbites,butIknewthedogswouldcutTariqdowninthefirsthundredmetres.Muchcloser,therewasapileoftimbersandotherconstructionmaterials.Itwouldgiveusweapons,andawell-litareaforthefight.ItoldTariqtopreparehimselftorunonmycommand.WhenIwassureheunderstood,IthrewtheplasticbagcontainingtheclothesKarlahadloanedmeintothemidstofthepack.Theyfellonitatonce,snappingandsnarlingatoneanotherintheirfrenzytoripandtearatit.“Now,Tariq!Now!”Ishouted,shovingtheboyinfrontofmeandturningtocoverhisretreat.Thedogsweresoengrossedinthebundlethatweweresafeforamoment.Irantothepileofscrapwood,andsnatchedupalengthofstoutbamboojustasthepacktiredoftheshreddedbundleandadvancedonusagain.
Recognisingtheweapon,theenragedhoundshesitatedalittlefurtherfromus.Theyweremany.Toomany,Iheardmyselfthinking.There’stoomanyofthem.ItwasthelargestpackI’deverseen.Thewildhowlinggoadedthemostmaddenedofthemtomakeaseriesofrushingfeintsfromseveraldirections.IraisedthesolidstickandtoldTariqtoclimbontomyback.Theboydidsoatonce,clamberinguppiggybackstyle,andwrappinghisthinarmsaroundmynecktightly.Thepackcreptcloser.Oneblackdog,largerthantherest,madeascramblingrunwithitsjawswide,andaimedatmylegs.Ibroughtthestickdownwithallmystrength,missingthesnoutbutsmashingitintotheanimal’sspine.Ityelpedinagony,andscuttledoutofrange.Thebattlebegan.
Oneafteranother,fromleft,right,andinfrontofus,theyattacked.Eachtime,Ilashedoutwiththesticktorepulsethem.
ItoccurredtomethatifImanagedtocrippleorevenkilloneofthedogs,theothersmightbefrightenedoff,butnoneoftheblowsIlandedwasseriousenoughtodiscouragethemforverylong.Infact,theyseemedtosensethatthestickcouldhurtthembutnotkillthem,andtheygrewbolder.
Thewholepackcreptinexorablycloser.Theindividualattackscamemoreoften.Tenminutesintothestruggle,Iwassweatingheavilyandbeginningtotire.Iknewitwouldn’tbelongbeforemyreflexesslowed,andoneofthedogsslippedthroughtobitemylegorarm.Andwiththefirstsmellofblood,theirraveningfurywouldbecomerabid,berserk,andfearless.Ihopedthatsomeoneintheslumwouldheartheear-splittingclamourandcometoourrescue.ButI’dbeenwokenbythatsamebarkingfromtheoutskirtsoftheslumahundredtimeslateatnight.AndahundredtimesI’dturnedoverandgonebacktosleepwithoutthinkingaboutit.
Thelargeblackdogthatseemedtobethepackleadermadeacunningdoublefeint.AsIturned,tooquickly,tomeetitsrush,myfootstruckaprojectingtimberandIfell.I’doftenheardpeoplesaythatatthemomentofsomeaccidentorsuddendangertheyhadthesensationthattimewasdelayedorsluggish,andeverythingseemedtohappeninslowmotion.Thatstumblesideways,asIfelltotheground,wasmyfirstexperienceofit.Betweenstumbleandfall,therewasatunneloflengthenedtimeandnarrowedperspectives.Isawtheblackdoghesitateintherhythmofitsinstinctiveretreats,andturntofaceusoncemore.Isawitsforepawsslipandslidebeneathitwiththeenergyofitsscramblingturn,andthengougeoutapurchaseonthedustytrackfortherushandspring.Isawtheeyesofthebeast,thealmosthumancrueltyasitsensedmyweaknessanditsnearnesstothekillingsecond.Isawtheotherdogspause,almostasone,andthencreepforwardwithlittlemincingsteps.Ihadtimetothinkhowstrangeandinappropriatetheirstealthwas,then,inthemomentsofmyvulnerability.IhadtimetofeeltheroughstonesscrapetheskinbackfrommyelbowasIstrucktheground,andtimetowonderattheridiculousparticleofworry,aboutthethreatofinfection,thatstrayedacrossthesurfaceofthepresentandgreaterdangerofthedogs,thedogs.Theywereeverywhere.
Anddesperate,sickenedwithfearforhim,IthoughtofTariq,thepoorchildwho’dbeenpressedintomycaresoreluctantly.Ifelthimslipfrommyneck,felthisfragilearmsfallthroughmyscramblinghandsasIcrashedintotheslitheringpileoftimber.
Iwatchedhimfallandscrambleforwardwithfelineagilitytostand,onefootoneithersideofmyextendedlegs.Then,hisbodyrigidwiththevehemenceofhisrageandcourage,thelittleboyshrieked,seizedalumpofwood,andcrasheditdownonthesnoutoftheblackdog.Thebeastwassorelywounded.Itsyelpingscreamsroseabovethedinofbarksandhowlsandtheshriekingoftheboy.
“AllahhuAkbar!AllahhuAkbar!”Tariqshouted.Hecrouched,andswungattheemptyair,hisownfacewildasanybeast,andhispostureasferal.Inthelastofthoseimpossiblylongsecondsofmyheightenedsense,IhadtimetofeelthehotstingoftearsasIwatchedhimcrouchandswingandfighttodefendus.Icouldseetheknucklesofhisspinethrustoutagainsthisshirt,andthebonesofhisthin,littlekneesoutlinedagainsthistrousers.Therewassomuchbraveryinthatsmallpackage.Theemotionthatburnedmyeyeswaslove,thepure,pride-filledloveoffatherforson.Ilovedhimwithallmyheartinthatsecond.
AsIthrasheduptomyfeet,andtimeacceleratedfromitsglueoffearandfailure,somewordsrepeatedthemselvesinmymind,wordsfromKarla’spoem.Iwilldieforthislove,dieforthislove.Tariqhadwoundedthepackleader,andithungbackbehindtheothers,dispiritingthemforafewmoments.Thehowlinggrewlouder,however,andtherewasanotherqualitytoitthen,athrobbingmoanoffrustration.Itwasasiftheyweresickeningforthekill,andtormentedbytheirfailure.Ihopedthatintheiragonyofdisappointmenttheymightturnononeanotheriftheydidn’tbringusdownsoon.Then,withoutwarning,theysprangatusagain.
Theycameingroupsoftwoandthree.Theyattackedfromtwosidesatonce.TheboyandIstoodside-to-sideandback-to-back,fightingthemoffwithdesperatejabsandslashes.Thedogswereinsanewiththebloodlust.Wehitthemhard,buttheycoweredonlysecondsbeforeleapingatusagain.Everywherearounduswasfangandsnarl,snapandhowl.IleanedoverTariqtohelphimdrivebackadeterminedrushfromthreeorfourofthebeasts,andonedogmanagedtosprintinbehindmeandbitedownhardonmyankle.Myleatherbootprotectedme,andIdrovethedogaway,butIknewwewerelosingthewar.We’dretreatedhardupagainstthemoundoftimbers,andtherewasnowhereelsetogo.Thewholepackwassnarlingandlungingatusfromonlytwometresaway.
Then,frombehindus,therewasasoundofgrowling,andthecrunchingrattleoftimbersslippingawayundertheweightofsomethingthathadjumpedontothem.Ithoughtthatsomeofthedogshadsomehowworkedtheirwayaroundontotheheapbut,asIturnedtomeetthechallenge,Isawtheblack-cladfigureofAbdullahashesprang,leapingoverourheadsintothemidstofthethrashingjawsofthepack.
Hewhirled,strikingoutleftandright.Hejumped,drawinghiskneesuptightandlandingwiththesuppletautnessofatrainedfighter.Hismovementswerefluid,swift,andeconomical.Itwastheawfulandbeautifulfrugalityofsnakeandscorpion.Lethal.
Exact.Perfect.He’darmedhimselfwithametalrod,aboutthreecentimetresindiameterandmorethanametreinlength.Heswungittwo-handedasifitwasasword.Butitwasn’tthesuperiorweaponorevenhisuncannyagilitythatterrifiedthedogsanddrovethemback.Whatroutedtheminpanickedflight,leavingtwooftheirnumberskull-crackdead,wasthefactthathe’dtakenthefighttothem;thathe’dattacked,wherewe’ddefended;thathewassureofwinning,wherewe’dmerelystruggledtosurvive.
Itwasoverquickly.Therewassilence,wheresomuchsoundhadscreamed.Abdullahturnedtolookatuswiththemetalrodheldabovehisshoulderlikeasamuraisword.ThesmileshiningfromhisbraveyoungfacewaslikemoonlightgleamingontheminaretofHajiAli’swhitemosque.
Later,whilewedrankhotandverysweetSuleimanichaiinmyhut,Abdullahexplainedthathe’dbeenwaitingformeinthehut,andheardthedogs.Hetoldushecametoinvestigateitbecausehe’dsensedthatsomethingwasdreadfullywrong.Whenwe’dtalkedtheadventurethroughseveraltimes,Ipreparedthreeplacesforusonthebareearthfloor,andwestretchedouttorest.
AbdullahandTariqslippedeffortlesslyintoasleepthateludedme.Ilayback,inadarknessthatsmeltofincenseandbeediecigarettesandcheapkerosene,andIsiftedtheeventsofthelastfewdaysthroughasieveofdoubtandsuspicion.Somuchmorehadhappenedduringthosedays,itseemed,thaninthemonthsbeforethem.MadameZhou,Karla,Khaderbhai’scouncil,Sapna-Ifeltmyselftobeatthemercyofpersonalitiesthatwerestronger,oratleastmoremysterious,thanmyown.Ifelttheirresistibledrawanddriftofatidethatwascarryingmetosomeoneelse’sdestination,someoneelse’sdestiny.Therewasaplanorpurpose.Isensedit.Therewereclues,Iwassure,butIcouldn’tseparatethemfromthebusycollageofhoursandfacesandwords.Thecloud-mottlednightseemedfullofsignsandportents,asiffateitselfwaswarningmetogoordaringmetostay.
Tariqwokewithastart,andsatup,staringabouthim.Myeyeswereadjustedtothedarkness.Isawthemomentoffearonhispalefaceclearly,afearthattightenedintosorrowandresolveevenasIwatched.HelookedtothepeacefullysleepingformofAbdullah,andthentome.Withoutasound,hestoodanddraggedhissleepingmatoveruntilitmetmine.Snugglingdownunderthecoverofhisthinblanketoncemore,hecuddledinbesideme.Istretchedoutmyarm,andherestedhisheadonit.Thesmellofthesunwasinhishair.
Asexhaustionfinallyclaimedme,submergingmydoubtsandconfusions,theshrewdclarityofnear-sleepsuddenlyshowedmewhatitwasthatthosenewfriends-Khaderbhai,Karla,Abdullah,Prabaker,andalltheothers-hadincommon.Theywereall,wewereall,strangerstothecity.Noneofuswasbornthere.Allofuswererefugees,survivors,pitchedupontheshoresoftheislandcity.Iftherewasabondbetweenus,itwasthebondofexiles,thekinshipofthelost,thelonely,andthedispossessed.Realisingthat,understandingit,mademeseethehardedgesofthewayI’dtreatedtheboy,Tariq,himselfastrangerinmyrawandraggedfragmentofthecity.Ashamedofthecoldselfishnessthathadstolenmypity,andpiercedbythecourageandlonelinessofthelittleboy,Ilistenedtohissleepingbreath,andlethimclingtotheacheinmyheart.Sometimeswelovewithnothingmorethanhope.Sometimeswecrywitheverythingexcepttears.Intheendthat’sallthereis:loveanditsduty,sorrowanditstruth.Intheendthat’sallwehave-toholdontightuntilthedawn.
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PARTTHREE
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
“Theworldisrunbyonemillionevilmen,tenmillionstupidmen,andahundredmillioncowards,”AbdulGhanipronouncedinhisbestOxfordEnglishaccent,lickingthesweethoneycakefromhisshort,thickfingers.“Theevilmenarethepower-therichmen,andthepoliticians,andthefanaticsofreligion-whosedecisionsruletheworld,andsetitonitscourseofgreedanddestruction.”
Hepaused,lookingtowardthewhisperingfountaininAbdelKhaderKhan’srain-splashedcourtyardasifhewasreceivinginspirationfromthewetnessandtheshimmeringstone.Hereachedoutwithhisrighthandandtookanotherhoneycake,poppingitwholeintohismouth.Thelittlebeseechingsmilehegavemeashechewedandswallowedseemedtosay,IknowIshouldn’t,butIreallycan’thelpit.
“Thereareonlyonemillionofthem,thetrulyevilmen,inthewholeworld.Theveryrichandtheverypowerful,whosedecisionsreallycount-theyonlynumberonemillion.Thestupidmen,whonumbertenmillion,arethesoldiersandpolicemenwhoenforcetheruleoftheevilmen.Theyarethestandingarmiesoftwelvekeycountries,andthepoliceforcesofthoseandtwentymore.Intotal,thereareonlytenmillionofthemwithanyrealpowerorconsequence.Theyareoftenbrave,I’msure,buttheyarestupid,too,becausetheygivetheirlivesforgovernmentsandcausesthatusetheirfleshandbloodasmerechesspieces.Thosegovernmentsalwaysbetraythemorletthemdownorabandonthem,inthelongrun.Nationsneglectnomenmoreshamefullythantheheroesoftheirwars.”
ThecircularcourtyardgardenattheheartofKhaderbhai’shousewasopentotheskyatitscentre.Monsoonrainfelluponthefountainandsurroundingtiles:rainsodenseandconstantthattheskywasariver,andourpartoftheworldwasitswaterfall.
Despitetherain,thefountainwasstillrunning,sendingitsfrailplumesofwaterupwardagainstthecascadefromabove.Wesatundercoverofthesurroundingverandaroof,dryandwarminthehumidairaswewatchedthedownpourandsippedsweettea.
“Andthehundredmillioncowards,”AbdulGhanicontinued,pinchingthehandleoftheteacupbetweenhisplumpfingers,“theyarethebureaucratsandpapershufflersandpen-pusherswhopermittheruleoftheevilmen,andlooktheotherway.Theyaretheheadofthisdepartment,andthesecretaryofthatcommittee,andthepresidentoftheotherassociation.Theyaremanagers,andofficials,andmayors,andofficersofthecourt.Theyalwaysdefendthemselvesbysayingthattheyarejustfollowingorders,orjustdoingtheirjob,andit’snothingpersonal,andiftheydon’tdoit,someoneelsesurelywill.Theyarethehundredmillioncowardswhoknowwhatisgoingon,butsaynothing,whiletheysignthepaperthatputsonemanbeforeafiringsquad,orcondemnsonemillionmentotheslowerdeathofafamine.”
Hefellsilent,staringintothemandalaofveinsonthebackofhishand.Afewmomentslater,heshookhimselffromhisreverieandlookedatme,hiseyesgleaminginagentle,affectionatesmile.
“So,that’sit,”heconcluded.“Theworldisrunbyonemillionevilmen,tenmillionstupidmen,andahundredmillioncowards.
Therestofus,allsixbillionofus,doprettymuchwhatwearetold!”
Helaughed,andslappedathisthigh.Itwasagoodlaugh,thekindoflaughthatwon’trestuntilitsharesthejoke,andIfoundmyselflaughingwithhim.
“Doyouknowwhatthismeans,myboy?”heasked,whenhisfacewasseriousenoughtoframethequestion.
“Tellme.”
“Thisformula-theonemillion,thetenmillion,thehundredmillion-thisistherealtruthofallpolitics.Marxwaswrong.
Itisnotaquestionofclasses,yousee,becausealltheclassesareinthehandsofthistinyfew.Thissetofnumbersisthecauseofempireandrebellion.Thisistheformulathathasgeneratedourcivilisationsforthelasttenthousandyears.Thisbuiltthepyramids.ThislaunchedyourCrusades.Thisputtheworldatwar,andthisformulahasthepowertoimposethepeace.”
“They’renotmyCrusades,”Icorrectedhim,“butIgetyourpoint.”
“Doyoulovehim?”heasked,changingthesubjectsoswiftlythathetookmebysurprise.Hedidthatsooften,shiftingthegroundofhisdiscoursesfromthemetotheme,thatitwasoneofthehallmarksofhisconversation.HisskillatperformingthetrickwassuchthatevenwhenIcametoknowhimwell,evenwhenIcametoexpectthosesuddendeviationsanddeflections,hestillmanagedtocatchmeoffguard.“DoyouloveKhaderbhai?”
“I…whatsortofquestionisthat?”Idemanded,stilllaughing.
“Hehasgreataffectionforyou,Lin.Hespeaksofyouoften.”
Ifrowned,andlookedawayfromhispenetratinggaze.ItgavemearushofintensepleasuretohearthatKhaderbhailikedmeandspokeofme.Still,Ididn’twanttoadmit,eventomyself,howmuchhisapprovalmeanttome.Theplayofconflictingemotions-loveandsuspicion,admirationandresentment-confusedme,asitusuallydidwhenIthoughtofKhaderKhan,orspenttimewithhim.Theconfusionemergedasirritation,inmyeyesandinmyvoice.
“Howlongdoyouthinkwe’llhavetowait?”Iasked,lookingaroundatthecloseddoorsthatledtotheprivateroomsofKhaderbhai’shouse.“IhavetomeetwithsomeGermantouriststhisafternoon.”
Abdulignoredthequestionandleanedacrossthelittletableseparatingourtwochairs.
“Youmustlovehim,”hesaidinanalmostseductivewhisper.“DoyouwanttoknowwhyIloveAbdelKhaderwithmylife?”
Weweresittingwithourfacescloseenoughformetoseethefineredveinsinthewhitesofhiseyes.Theembroideryofthoseredfibresconvergedontheauburnirisofhiseyeslikesomanyfingersraisedtosupportthegolden,red-browndiscs.Beneaththeeyeswerethick,heavypouches,whichgavehisfaceitspersistentexpressionofaninwardnessfilledwithgrievingandsorrow.Despitehismanyjokesandeasylaughter,thepouchesbeneathhiseyeswereswollen,always,withareservoirofunshedtears.
We’dbeenwaitinghalfanhourforKhaderbhaitoreturn.WhenI’darrivedwithTariq,Khaderhadgreetedmewarmlyandthenretiredwiththeboytopray,leavingmeinthecompanyofAbdulGhani.
Thehousewasutterlysilent,saveforthesplashoffallingraininthecourtyardandthebubbleofthefountain’sover-burdenedpump.Apairofdoveshuddledtogetheronthefarsideofthecourtyard.
AbdulandIstaredatoneanotherinthesilence,butIdidn’tspeak,Ididn’tanswerhisquestion.DoyouwanttoknowwhyIlovethisman?OfcourseIwantedtoknow.Iwasawriter.Iwantedtoknoweverything.ButIwasn’tsohappytoplayGhani’squestion-andanswergame.Icouldn’treadhim,andIcouldn’tguesswhereitwasgoing.
“Ilovehim,myboy,becauseheisamooringpostinthiscity.
Thousandsofpeoplefindsafetybytyingtheirlivestohis.Ilovehimbecausehehasthetask,whereothermendonotevenhavethedream,ofchangingthewholeworld.Iworrythatheputstoomuchtimeandeffortandmoneyintothatcause,andIhavedisagreedwithhimmanytimesaboutit,butIlovehimforhisdevotiontoit.Andmostofall,IlovehimbecauseheistheonlymanIevermet-heistheonlymanyouwillevermeet-whocananswerthethreebigquestions.”
“Thereareonlythreebigquestions?”Iasked,unabletokeepthesarcasmfrommyvoice.
“Yes,”heansweredequably.“Wheredidwecomefrom?Whyarewehere?Wherearewegoing?Thosearethethreebigquestions.Andifyoulovehim,Lin,myyoungfriend,ifyoulovehim,hewilltellyouthesesecrets,aswell.Hewilltellyouthemeaningoflife.Andwhenyouhearhimspeak,whenyoulistentohim,youwillknowthatwhathesaysistrue.Andno-oneelseyouwillevermeetwillanswerthesethreequestionsforyou.Iknow.IhavetravelledtheEarthmanytimesover.Ihaveaskedallthegreatteachers.BeforeImetAbdelKhaderKhan,andjoinedmylifetohis,ashisbrother,Ispentafortune-severalfortunes–seekingoutthefamousseersandmysticsandrenownedscientists.Noneofthemeveransweredthethreebigquestions.
ThenImetKhaderbhai.Heansweredthequestionsforme.AndIhavelovedhim,asmybrother,mysoul’sbrother,eversincethatday.Ihaveservedhimfromthatdayuntilthelittleminutethatweshare.Hewilltellyou.Themeaningoflife!Hewillsolvethemysteryforyou.”
Ghani’svoicewasanewcurrentinthewide,strongriverthatcarriedme:theriverofthecityanditsfifteenmillionlives.
Histhick,brownhairwasstreakedwithgrey,andsmudgedcompletelywhiteatthetemples.Hismoustache,moregreythanbrown,restedonfinelysculptured,almostfemininelips.Aheavygoldchaingleamedathisneckintheafternoonlight,andmatchedthegoldthatflashedinhiseyes.Andaswestaredatoneanotherinthatyearningsilence,tearsbegantofillthered-rimmedcupsofhiseyes.Icouldn’tdoubttherealdepthofhisfeeling,butIcouldn’tfullyunderstandit,either.Thenadooropenedbehindus,andGhani’sroundfacedissolvedintoitsusualmaskoffacetiousaffability.WebothturnedtoseeKhaderbhaienterwithTariq.
“Lin!”hesaid,withhishandsrestingontheboy’sshoulders.
“Tariqhasbeentellingushowmuchhelearnedwithyouinthelastthreemonths.”
Threemonths.AtfirstI’dthoughtitimpossibletoenduretheboy’scompanyforthreedays.Yetthreemonthshadpassedtooswiftly;andwhenthetimecametobringhimhome,I’dreturnedhimtohisuncleagainstthewishesofmyheart.IknewthatIwouldmisshim.Hewasagoodboy.Hewouldbeafineman-thekindofmanIoncehadtried,andfailed,tobe.
“He’dstillbewithus,ifyouhadn’tsentforhim,”Ireplied.
Therewasahintofreproachinmytone.Itseemedtomeacruelarbitrarinessthat,withoutwarning,hadputtheboywithmeformonthsandhadtakenhimawayjustassuddenly.
“TariqcompletedhistrainingatourKoranicschoolduringthelasttwoyears,andnowhehasimprovedhisEnglish,withyou.Itistimeforhimtotakehisplaceatcollege,andIthinkheisverywellprepared.”
Khaderbhai’stonewasgentleandpatient.Theaffectionateandslightlyamusedsmileinhiseyesheldmeasfirmlyashisstronghandsheldtheshouldersofthesolemn,unsmilingboystandinginfrontofhim.
“Youknow,Lin,”hesaidsoftly,“wehaveasaying,inthePashtolanguage,andthemeaningofitisthatyouarenotamanuntilyougiveyourlove,trulyandfreely,toachild.Andyouarenotagoodmanuntilyouearnthelove,trulyandfreely,ofachildinreturn.”
“Tariq’sokay,”Isaid,standingtoshakehandsandtakemyleave.“He’sagoodkid,andI’llmisshim.”
Iwasn’ttheonlyonewhowouldmisshim.HewasafavouritewithQasimAliHussein.Theheadmanhadvisitedtheboyoften,andhadtakenhimonhisroundsoftheslum.JeetendraandRadhahadspoiledhimwiththeiraffection.JohnnyCigarandPrabakerhadteasedhimgood-naturedly,andthey’dincludedhimintheirweeklycricketgame.EvenAbdullahhaddevelopedanemotionalregardforthechild.AftertheNightoftheWildDogs,he’dvisitedTariqtwiceeveryweektoteachhimtheartsoffightingwithsticks,scarves,andbarehands.Isawthemoften,duringthosemonths,theirsilhouettescarvedonthehorizonlikefiguresfromashadow-playastheypractisedontheonesmallstripofsandybeachneartheslum.
IshookhandswithTariqlast,andlookedintohisearnest,truthful,blackeyes.Memoriesfromthelastthreemonthsskippedacrossthefluidsurfaceofthemoment.Irecalledhisfirstfightwithoneoftheslumboys.Amuchbiggerboyhadknockedhimdown,butTariqdrovehimbackwiththepowerofhiseyesalone,forcingshameintotheboywithhisstare.Theotherboybrokedownandwept.Tariqembracedhiminasolicitoushug,andtheirclosefriendshipwassealed.IrememberedTariq’senthusiasmintheEnglishclassesthatI’dsetupforhim,andhowhesoonbecamemyassistant,helpingtheotherchildrenwhojoinedintolearn.Isawhimstrugglingagainstthefirstmonsoonfloodwithus,diggingadrainagechanneloutoftherockyearthwithsticksandourbarehands.IrememberedhisfacepeepingaroundtheflimsydoorofmyhutoneafternoonwhenIwastryingtowrite.Yes!Whatisit,Tariq!I’daskedhimirritably.
Oh,I’msorry,he’dreplied.Doyouwanttobelonely?
IleftAbdelKhaderKhan’shouse,andbeganthelongwalkbacktotheslum,aloneanddiminishedbytheabsenceoftheboy.Iwaslessimportant,somehow,orsuddenlylessvaluableinthedifferentworldthatclosedinonmewithouthim.IkeptmyappointmentwiththeGermantourists,attheirhotel,quitenearKhaderbhai’smosque.Theywereayoungcouple,ontheirfirsttriptothesub-continent.TheywantedtosavemoneybychangingtheirDeutschmarksontheblackmarket,andthenbuysomehashishfortheirjourneyaroundIndia.Theywereadecent,happycouple–innocent,generous-hearted,andmotivatedbyaspiritualnotionofIndia.Ichangedtheirmoneyforthem,onacommission,andarrangedthepurchaseofthecharras.Theywereverygrateful,andtriedtopaymemorethanwe’dagreed.Irefusedtheextramoney-adealisadeal,afterall-andthenacceptedtheirinvitationtosmokewiththem.ThechillumIpreparedwasaveragestrengthforthoseofuswholivedandworkedonthestreetsofBombay,butmuchstrongerthantheywereaccustomedtosmoking.
TheywerebothstonedtosleepwhenIpulledthedooroftheirhotelroomclosed,andwalkedonthroughdozyafternoonstreets.
ImademywayalongMohammedAliRoadtoMahatmaGandhiRoadandtheColabaCauseway.Icould’vetakenabus,oroneofthemanyprowlingtaxis,butIlovedthewalk.IlovedthosekilometresfromChorbazaar,pastCrawfordMarket,V.T.Station,FloraFountain,theFortarea,RegalCircle,andonthroughColabatoSassoonDock,theWorldTradeCentre,andtheBackBay.Iwalkedthemathousandtimesinthoseyears,andtheywerealwaysnew,alwaysexciting,andalwaysinspiring.AsIroundedRegalCircleandpausedmomentarilytochecktheComingAttractionspostersoutsideRegalCinema,Iheardavoicecallingmyname.
“Linbaba!Hey!Oh,Lin!”
IturnedtoseePrabakerleaningfromthepassengerwindowofablack-and-yellowtaxi.Iwalkedovertoshakehishandandgreetthedriver,Prabaker’scousin,Shantu.
“We’regoingbacktohome.Jumpyourselfinside,andwe’llgiveyoualifts.”
“Thanks,Prabu,”Ismiled.“I’llkeepwalking.I’vegotacoupleofstopstomakeontheway.”
“Okay,Lin!”Prabakergrinned.“Butyoudon’ttaketoomuchtime,likesometimestoomuchtimeyou’retaking,ifyoudon’tmindthatI’mtellingyourface.Todayisaspecialday,isn’tit?”
Iwaveduntilhissmiledisappearedinthethicketoftraffic,andthenIjumpedinfrightasacarslammedtoascreechingsmashbesideme.AnAmbassadorhadtriedtoovertakeaslowercarandhadcrashedintoawoodenhand-cart,forcingtheheavycartintothesideofataxi,onlytwometresawayfromme.
Itwasabadaccident.Thehand-cartpullerwasseriouslyinjured.Icouldseethattheropesattachedtohisneckandshoulders-thereinsandharness-hadtrappedhimintheyokeofthecart.Hisbody,constrainedbytheropes,hadsomersaulted,andhe’dhithisheadhardontheunyieldingsurfaceoftheroad.
Onearmwastwistedbackwardatasickeninglyunnaturalangle.Apieceofshinboneononelegprotrudedbelowtheknee.Andthoseropes,theveryropesheusedeverydaytodraghiscartthroughthecity,weretangledabouthisneckandchest,anddragginghimtowardchokingdeath.
Irushedforwardwithothers,pullingmyknifefromitsscabbardinthebeltatthebackofmytrousers.Workingfast,butascarefullyaspossible,Icutthroughtheropesandfreedthemanfromthewreckageofhiscart.Hewasanolderman,perhapssixtyyearsold,buthewasfitandleanandhealthy.Hisfastheartbeatwasregularandstrong:apowerfulcurrentwithwhichtochargehisrecovery.Hisairwayswereclear,andhewasbreathingeasily.WhenIopenedhiseyesgentlywithmyfingers,hispupilsreactedtothelight.Hewasdazedandshocked,ratherthanunconscious.
Withthreeothermen,Iliftedhimfromtheroadtothefootpath.
Hisleftarmhunglimplyfromitsshoulder,andIeaseditintoacurveattheelbow.OnlookersdonatedtheirhandkerchiefswhenIcalledforthem.Usingfourofthehandkerchiefs,attachedatthecorners,Iconfinedthearmtohischestinamakeshiftsling.Iwasexaminingthebreakinhislegwhenafrenzyofscreamingandshoutsnearthedamagedcarsforcedmetomyfeet.
TenormoremenweretryingtoseizethedriveroftheAmbassador.Hewasahugeman,welloversixfeet,halfagainasheavyasIwas,andtwiceasbroadacrossthechest.Heplantedhisthicklegsagainstthefloorofthevehicle,bracedonearmagainsttheroof,andgrippedthesteeringwheelwiththeother.
Thefuriouscrowdgaveupafteraminuteoffruitless,desperatestruggle,andturnedtheirattentiontothemaninthebackseat.
Hewasastockymanwithstrongshoulders,buthewasmuchslighterandleaner.Themobdraggedhimfromthebackseat,andthrusthimagainstthesideofthecar.Hecoveredhisfacewithhisarmsbutthecrowdbeganbeatinghimwiththeirfistsandtearingathimwiththeirfingers.
ThetwomenwereAfricans.IguessedthemtobeNigerians.
Watchingfromthefootpath,IrememberedtheshockandshameI’dfeltwhenI’dseenmobragelikethatforthefirsttime,almosteighteenmonthsbefore,onthefirstdayofPrabaker’sdarktourofthecity.IrememberedhowhelplessandcowardlyI’dfeltwhenthecrowdhadcarriedtheman’sbrokenbodyaway.I’dtoldmyselfthenthatitwasn’tmyculture,itwasn’tmycity,itwasn’tmyfight.Eighteenmonthslater,theIndianculturewasmine,andthatpartofthecitywasmyown.Itwasablack-marketbeat.Mybeat.Iworkedthereeveryday.Ievenknewsomeofthepeopleinthemurderouscrowd.Icouldn’tletithappenagainwithouttryingtohelp.
Shoutinglouderthantherest,Iranintothescreamingcrowdandbegandraggingmenawayfromthetightpressofbodies.
“Brothers!Brothers!Don’thit!Don’tkill!Don’thit!”IshoutedinHindi.
Itwasamessybusiness.Forthemostpart,theyallowedmetodragthemawayfromthemob.Myarmswerestrong.Themenfeltthepowerthatshovedthemaside.Buttheirkillingragesoonhurledthembackintotheuproar,andIfelttheirfistsandfingerspoundingandgougingatmefromeverywhereatonce.AtlastIsucceededinclearingapathtothepassengerandthenseparatinghimfromtheleadersofthepack.Withhisbackpresseddefensivelyagainstthesideofthecar,themanraisedhisfistsasifreadytofighton.Hisfacewasbloody.Hisshirtwastornandsmearedwithvivid,crimsonblood.Hiseyeswerewideandwhitewithfear,andhebreathedhardthroughclenchedteeth.Yettherewasdeterminedcourageinthesetofhisjawandthescowlthatbaredhisteeth.Hewasafighter,andhewouldfighttotheveryend.
Itookthatinwithasecond’sglance,andthenturnedmybacktostandbesidehimandfacethecrowd.Holdingmyopenhandsinfrontofme,pleadingandplacating,Ishoutedfortheviolencetostop.
AsI’drunforwardandstartedtheattempttosavethemanI’dhadafantasythatthecrowdwouldpartandlistentomyvoice.
Stoneswouldfallfromthelimphandsofmortifiedmen.Themob,swayedbymyeloquentcourage,wouldwanderawayfromthescenewithshamedanddowncasteyes.Evennow,inmyrecollectionsofthatmomentandthatdanger,Isometimessurrendertoawishthatmyvoiceandmyeyeshadchangedtheirheartsthatday,andthatthecircleofhate,humiliatedanddisgraced,hadwidenedanddispersed.Instead,thecrowdhesitatedforonlyaninstantandthenpressedinuponusagaininabrawling,hissing,screaming,boilingrage,andwewereforcedtofightforourlives.
Ironically,theverynumbersofthecrowdattackingusworkedtoouradvantage.WeweretrappedinanawkwardL-shapemadebythetangleofvehicles.Thecrowdsurroundedus,andtherewasnoescape.Butthecrushoftheirnumbersinhibitedtheirmovements.
Fewerblowsstruckusthanmight’vebeenthecasehadfewermenopposedus,andthethrashingcrowdactuallystruckatthemselvesquiteoftenintheirfury.
Andperhapstherereallywassomesofteningoftheirfury,somereluctanceto_killus,despitetheirurgentdesiretocauseuspain.Iknowthatreluctance.I’veseenitmanytimes,inmanyviolentworlds.Ican’tfullyexplainit.It’sasifthere’sacollectiveconsciencewithinthegroup-mindofamob,andtherightappeal,atexactlytherightmoment,canturnmurderoushateasidefromitsintendedvictim.It’sasifthemob,injustthatcriticalmoment,wanttobestopped,wanttobepreventedfromtheworstoftheirownviolence.Andinthatonedoubtingmoment,asinglevoiceorfistraisedagainstthegatheringevilcanbeenoughtoavertit.I’veseenitinprison,wheremenbentonthepack-rapeofanotherprisonercanbestoppedbyonevoicethatstirstheirshame.I’veseenitinwar,whereonestrongvoicecanweakenandwitherthehate-filledcrueltythattormentsacapturedprisoner.AndperhapsIsawitonthatday,astheNigerianandIstruggledwiththemob.Perhapsthestrangenessofthesituation-awhiteman,agora,pleadinginHindiforthelivesoftwoblackmen-heldthembackfrommurder.
Thecarbehindussuddenlyroaredtolife.Theheavy-setdriverhadmanagedtostartthecar.Hegunnedtheengine,andbegantogentlyreverseawayfromthewreckage.ThepassengerandIslowlyshuffledandslitheredalongbesidethecarasitbackedupintothecrowd.Westruckout,shovingmenawayfromusandwrenchingtheirhandsfromourclothes.Whenthedriverreachedbackwardoverhisseatandopenedtherearpassengerdoor,webothjumpedintothecar.Thepressofthecrowdslammedthedoor.Twenty,fiftyhandsdrummed,beat,slapped,andpoundedontheoutsideofthecar.Thedriverpulledaway,headingatacrawlalongtheCausewayRoad.Acollectionofmissiles-teaglasses,foodcontainers,dozensofshoes-rainedonthecar.Thenwewerefree,speedingalongthebusyroadandwatchingthroughtherearwindowtomakesureweweren’tfollowed.
“HassaanObikwa,”thepassengerbesidemesaid,offeringhishand.
“LinFord,”Ireplied,shakinghishandandnoticingforthefirsttimehowmuchgoldhewore.Therewereringsoneveryfinger.Someofthemclosedaroundblue-white,glitteringdiamonds.Therewasalsoadiamond-encrustedgoldRolexhanginglooselyathiswrist.
“ThisisRaheem,”hesaid,noddingtothedriver.Thehugemaninthefrontseatglancedoverhisshouldertooffermeabroadgrin.Herolledhiseyesinasurvivor’shappyprayer,andturnedtofacetheroad.
“Ioweyoumylife,”HassaanObikwasaidwithagrimsmile.“Webothdo.Theywantedtokillus,backthere,that’sforsure.”
“Wewerelucky,”Ianswered,lookingintohisround,healthy,handsomefaceandbeginningtolikehim.
Hiseyesandhislipsdefinedhisface.Theeyeswereunusuallywide-setandlarge,givinghimaslightlyreptilianstare,andthemarvellouslipsweresofullandsumptuouslyshapedthattheyseemedtobedesignedforamuchlargerhead.Histeethwerewhiteandevenatthefront,butalltheteethoneithersidewerecappedwithgold.Rocococurvesatthecornersofhiswidenosegavehisnostrilsadelicateflare,asifhewasconstantlyinhalingapleasantlyintoxicatingscent.Awide,goldearring,conspicuousbeneathhisshortblackhairandagainsttheblueblackskinofhisthickneck,piercedhisleftear.
Iglancedathistorn,bloodyshirt,andatthecutsandbruisesthatwereswellingonhisfaceandeveryexposedcentimetreofflesh.WhenImethiseyesagaintheywereglitteringwithexcitedgoodhumour.Hewasn’ttooshakenbytheviolenceofthemob,andneitherwasI.Wewerebothmenwho’dseenworse,andhadbeenthroughworse,andwerecognisedthatineachotherimmediately.Infact,neitherofusevermentionedtheincidentdirectlyafterthatdayofourmeeting.Ilookedintohisglitteringeyes,andIfeltmysmilestretchingtomatchhis.
“Weweredamnlucky!”
“Fuckyes!Yes,wewere!”heagreed,laughinghardandslippingtheRolexwatchfromhiswrist.Heheldittohiseartomakesureitwasstillticking.Satisfied,hesnappedthewatchbackonhiswrist,andgavehisfullattentiontome.“Butthedebtisthere,andthedebtisstillimportant,evenifwewereverylucky.Adebtlikethis-itisthemostimportantofallaman’sobligations.Youmustallowmetorepayyou.”
“It’lltakemoney,”Isaid.Thedriverglancedintherear-visionmirrorandexchangedalookwithHassaan.
“But…thisdebtcannotberepaidwithmoney,”Hassaananswered.
“I’mtalkingaboutthecart-puller-theoneyouhitwithyourcar.Andthetaxiyoudamaged.Ifyougivemesomemoney,I’llseethatitgetstothem.It’llgoalongwaytocalmingthingsdownatRegalCircle.That’sinmybeat-Ihavetoworkthere,everyday,andpeoplearegoingtobepissedoffforawhileyet.
Dothat,andwe’llcallitsquare.”
Hassaanlaughed,andslappedhishandonmyknee.Itwasagoodlaugh-honestbutwicked,andgenerousbutshrewd.
“Pleasedon’tworry,”hesaid,stillsmilingbroadly.“Thisisnotmyarea,itistrue,butIamnotwithoutinfluence,evenhere.Iwillmakesurethattheinjuredmanreceivesallthemoneyheneeds.”
“Andtheotherone,”Iadded.
“Theotherone?”
“Yes,theotherone.”
“Theother…what?”heasked,perplexed.
“Thetaxidriver.”
“Yes,yes,thetaxidriveralso.”Therewasalittlesilence,hummingwithpuzzlesandquestions.Iglancedoutthewindowofthecab,butIcouldstillfeelhisenquiringeyesonme.Iturnedtofacehimagain.
“I…like…taxidrivers,”Isaid.
“Yes…”
“I…Iknowalotoftaxidrivers.”
“Yes…”
“Andthatcabbeingsmashedup-it’llcausealotofgriefforthedriverandhisfamily.”
“Ofcourse.”
“So,whenwillyoudoit?”Iasked.
“Dowhat?”
“Whenwillyouputthemoneyup,forthecart-pullerandthecabdriver?”
“Oh,”HassaanObikwagrinned,lookingupagainintotherearvisionmirrortoexchangealookwithRaheem.Thebigmanshrugged,andgrinnedbackintothemirror.“Tomorrow.Istomorrowokay?”
“Yeah,”Ifrowned,notsurewhatallthegrinningwasabout.“Ijustwanttoknow,sothatIcantalktothemaboutit.It’snotaquestionofthemoney.Icanputthemoneyupmyself.Iwasplanningtodoitanyway.I’vegottamendsomefencesbackthere.
Someofthemare…acquaintancesofmine.So…that’swhyit’simportant.Ifyou’renotgoingtodoit,Ineedtoknow,sothatIcantakecareofitmyself.That’sall.”
Thewholethingseemedtobegettingverycomplicated.IwishedI’dneverraisedthematterwithhim.Ibegantofeelangryathim,withoutreallyunderstandingwhy.Thenheofferedmehisopenpalminahandshake.
“Igiveyoumyword,”hesaidsolemnly,andweshookhands.
Weweresilentagain,andafterafewmomentsIreachedovertotapthedriverontheshoulder.
“Justhereisfine,”Isaid,perhapsalittlemoreharshlythanI’dintended.“I’llgetouthere.”
Thecarpulledintothekerb,afewblocksfromtheslum.Iopenedthedoortoleave,butHassaangrippedmywrist.Itwasaverystronggrip.Forasecond,IcalculatedallthelongwayupwardtothemuchgreaterstrengthIknewmustbeinRaheem’sgrip.
“Please,remembermyname-HassaanObikwa.YoucanfindmeattheAfricanghetto,inAndheri.Everyoneknowsmethere.WhateverIcandoforyou,pleasetellme.Iwanttoclearmydebt,LinFord.
Thisismytelephonenumber.Youcanreachme,fromhere,atanytimeofthedayorthenight.”
Itookthecard-itboreonlyhisnameandnumber-andshookhishand.NoddingtoRaheem,Ileftthecar.
“Thankyou,Lin,”Hassaancalledoutthroughtheopenwindow.
“Inshallah,we’llmeetagainsoon.”
Thecardroveoff,andIturnedtowardtheslum,staringatthegold-letteredbusinesscardforafullblockbeforeIputitinmypocket.Afewminuteslater,IpassedtheWorldTradeCentreandenteredthecompoundoftheslum,remembering,asIalwaysdid,thefirsttimeIenteredthoseblestandtormentedacres.
AsIpassedKumar’schaishop,Prabakercameouttogreetme.Hewaswearingayellowsilkshirt,blackpants,andred-and-blackpatentleatherhigh-heeledplatformshoes.Therewasacrimsonsilkscarftiedathisthroat.
“Oh,Lin!”hecalledout,hobblingacrossthebrokengroundonhisplatformshoes.Heclungtome,asmuchforbalanceasinfriendlygreeting.“Thereissomeone,afellowyouknow,heiswaitingforyou,inyourhouse.Butoneminuteplease,whathappenedonyourface?Andyourshirts?Haveyoubeenhavingitsomefights,withsomebadfellow?Arrey!Somefellowgaveyouasolidpasting.Ifyouwantme,Iwillgowithyou,andtellthatfellowheisabahinchudh.”
“It’snothing,Prabu.It’sokay,”Imuttered,stridingtowardthehut.“Doyouknowwhoitis?”
“Whoit…is?Youmean,whoitis,whowashittingyourface?”
“No,no,ofcoursenot!Imean,themanwho’swaitinginmyhut.
Doyouknowwhoitis?”
“Yes,Lin,”hesaid,stumblingalongbesidemeandclutchingmysleeveforsupport.
Wewalkedonforafewmoresecondsinsilence.Peoplegreetedusoneveryside,callingoutinvitationstosharechai,food,orasmoke.
“Well?”Iasked,afterawhile.
“Well?Whatwell?”
“Well,who_isit?Who’sinmyhut?”
“Oh!”helaughed.“Sorry,Lin.Ithoughtyouwantsomesurprises,soIdidn’ttellyou.”“It’shardlyasurprise,Prabu,becauseyoutoldmetherewassomeonewaitingformeinmyhut.”
“No,no!”heinsisted.“Youdon’tknowithisnameyet,sostillyougetthesurprise.Andthatisagoodthings.IfIdon’ttellyouthereissomebody,thenyougotoyourhut,andyougettheshocks.Andthatisabadthings.Ashocksislikeasurprise,whenyouarenotready.”
“Thankyou,Prabu,”Ireplied,mysarcasmevaporatingasitwasuttered.
Heneedn’thaveconcernedhimselfwithsparingmetheshock.ThecloserIcametomyhut,themoreoftenIwasinformedthataforeignerwaswaitingtoseeme.Hello,Linbaba!There’sagorainyourhouse,waitingforyou!
WearrivedatmyhuttofindDidiersittingintheshadeofthedoorwayonastool,andfanninghimselfwithamagazine.
“It’sDidier,”Prabakerinformedme,grinninghappily.
“Yes.Thankyou,Prabu,”IturnedtoDidier,whorosetoshakehands.“Thisisasurprise.It’sgoodtoseeyou.”
“Andgoodtoseeyou,mydearfriend,”Didierreplied,smilingdespitethedistressingheat.“But,Imustbehonest,youlookalittleworseforwear,asLettiewouldsay.”
“It’snothing.Amisunderstanding,that’sall.Givemeaminutetowashup.”
Istrippedoffmytorn,bloodyshirt,andpouredathirdofabucketofcleanwaterfromtheclaymatka.Standingontheflattenedpileofstonesbesidemyhut,Iwashedmyface,arms,andchest.NeighbourspassedmeasIwashed,smilingwhentheycaughtmyeye.Therewasanarttowashinginthatway,withnowasteddropofwaterandnoexcessofmess.I’dmasteredthatart,anditwasoneofthehundredlittlewaysmylifeimitatedtheirs,andfoldedintothelotusoftheirloving,hopingstrugglewithfate.
“Wouldyoulikeachai?”IaskedDidierasIslippedonaclean,whiteshirtinthedoorwayofmyhut.“WecangotoKumar’s.”
“Ijusthadonefullcup,”PrabakerinterjectedbeforeDidiercouldreply.“Butonemorechaiwillbeokay,forthefriendshipsake,Ithinkso.”
Hesatdownwithusinthericketychaishop.Fivehutshadbeenclearedtomakespaceforasingle,largeroom.Therewasacountermadefromanoldbedroomdresser,apatchworkplasticroof,andbenchesforthecustomersmadefromplanksrestingprecariouslyonpilesofbricks.Allthematerialshadbeenlootedfromthebuildingsitebesidetheslum.Kumar,thechaishopowner,foughtarunningguerrillawarwithhiscustomers,whotriedtopilferhisbricksandplanksfortheirownhouses.
Kumarcametotakeourorderhimself.Truetothegeneralruleofslumlifethatthemoremoneyonemade,themorepoverty-strickenonehadtolook,Kumar’sappearancewasmoredishevelledandraggedthanthemeanestofhiscustomers.Hedraggedupastainedwoodencrateforustouseasatable.Appraisingitwithasuspicioussquint,heslappedatthecratewithafilthyragandthentuckedtheclothintohissinglet.
“Didier,youlookterrible,”Iobserved,whenKumarlefttoprepareourtea.“Itmustbelove.”
Hegrinnedbackatme,shakinghisheadofdarkcurlsandraisingthepalmsofhishands.
“Iamveryfatigued,itistrue,”hesaid,managingashrugofelaborateself-pity.“Peopledonotunderstandthetrulyfantasticeffortrequiredinthecorruptionofasimpleman.Andthemoresimpletheman,themoreeffortitrequires.Theydonotrealisewhatittakesoutofmetoputsomuchdecadenceintoamanwhoisnotborntoit.”
“Youmightbemakingarodforyourownback,”Imocked.
“Eachthinginitsowntime,”hereplied,smilingthoughtfully.
“Butyou,myfriend,youlookverywell.Onlyalittle,howshallIsayit,lonelyforinformation.Andtothatend,Didierishere.Ihaveallthelatestnewsandgossipforyou.Youknowthedifferencebetweennewsandgossip,don’tyou?Newstellsyouwhatpeopledid.Gossiptellsyouhowmuchtheyenjoyedit.”
Webothlaughed,andPrabakerjoinedin,laughingsoloudlythateveryoneinthechaishopturnedtolookathim.
“Wellthen,”Didiercontinued,“wheretostart?Ohyes,Vikram’spursuitofLetitiaproceedswithacertainbizarreinevitability.
Shebeganbyloathinghim-”
“Ithinkloathingisbitstrong,”Iargued.
“Ah,yes,perhapsyou’reright.Ifsheloathesme-anditiscompletelycertainthatshedoes,thedearandsweetEnglishRose–thenherfeelingforVikramwasindeedsomethingless.Shallwesaydetest?”
“Ithinkdetestwouldcoverit,”Iagreed.
“Etbien,shebeganbydetestinghimbut,throughthepersistenceofhisdevotedromanticattentions,hehasmanagedtoarouseinherwhatIcanonlydescribeasanamiablerevulsion.”
Welaughedagain,andPrabakerslappedathisthigh,hootingwithsuchhilaritythateveryheadturnedtowardhim.DidierandIinspectedhimwithquizzicallooksofourown.Herespondedwithanimpishsmile,butInoticedthathiseyesdartedawayquicklytohisleft.Followingtheglance,Isawhisnewlove,Parvati,preparingfoodinKumar’skitchen.Herthick,blackplaitofhairwastheropebywhichamanmightclimbtoheaven.Herpetitefigure-shewastiny,shortereventhanPrabaker-wastheperfectshapeofhisdesire.Hereyes,whensheturnedinprofiletolookatus,wereblackfire.
LookingoverParvati’sshoulder,however,washermother,Nandita.Shewasaformidablewoman,threetimesthecombinedwidthandweightofherpetitedaughters,ParvatiandSita,andshegloweredatus,herexpressionmanagingtocombinegreedforourcustomwithcontemptforourmalesex.Ismiledather,andwaggedmyhead.Hersmile,inreturn,wasremarkablysimilartothefiercegrimacethatMaoriwarriorsaffecttointimidatetheirenemies.
“Inhislastepisode,”Didiercontinued,“thegoodVikramhiredahorsefromthehandlersonChowpattyBeach,androdeittoLetitia’sapartmentonMarineDrivetoserenadeheroutsideherwindow.”
“Diditwork?”
“Unfortunatelynon.Thehorseleftapackageofmerdeonthefrontpathway-duringanespeciallymovingpartofthesong,nodoubt-andthemanyotherresidentsoftheapartmentbuildingexpressedtheiroutragebypeltingthepoorVikramwithrottingfood.Letitia,itwasnoticed,threwmoreoffensivemissiles,andwithamoredeadlyaim,thananyoftheneighbours.”
“C’estl’amour,”Isighed.
“Exactly-merdeandbadfood,c’estl’amour,”Didieragreedquickly.“IdothinkthatImustinvolvemyselfinthisromance,ifitistosucceed.ThepoorVikram-heisafoolforlove,andLettiedespisesafoolaboveallelse.ButthingsaremuchmoresuccessfulforMauriziointhelasttime.HehadsomebusinessventurewithModena,Ulla’sparamour,andheisinthechips,asourdearLettiewouldsay.Heisnowasignificantdealer,inColaba.”
Iforcedmyfacetoremainimpassivewhilejealousthoughtsofhand-someMaurizio,flushedwithsuccess,spikedtheirwayintomymind.Therainstartedagain,andIglancedoutsidetoseepeoplerunning,hitchinguptheirpantsandtheirsaristoavoidthemanypuddles.
“Justyesterday,”Didierwenton,carefullytippinghisteafromthecupintothesaucer,andsippingitfromthesaucerasmostoftheslum-dwellersdid,“Modenaarrivedinachauffeuredcar,atLeopold’s,andMaurizioiswearingaten-thousand-dollarRolexwatch.But…”
“But?”Iprompted,whenhepausedtodrink.
“Well,thereisterribleriskintheirbusiness.Maurizioisnotalways…honourable…inhisbusinessdealings.Ifheshouldupsetthewrongpeople,therewillbegreatviolence.”
“Andwhataboutyou?”Iasked,changingthesubjectbecauseIdidn’twantDidiertoseetheserpentofspiterisinginmewhenhespokeofthetroublethatmightbefindingitswaytoMaurizio.“Aren’tyouflirtingwithdangeryourself?Yournew…interest…isonestringshortofthefullmarionette,orsoI’mtold.He’sgotaverybadtemper,Lettiesays,andahairtriggercontrollingit.”
“Oh,him?”hesniffeddismissively,turningdownthecornersofhisexpressivemouth.“Notatall.Heisnotdangerous.Althoughheisannoying,andannoyingisworsethandangerous,n’est-cepas?Itiseasiertolivewithadangerousmanthananannoyingone.”
PrabakerwenttobuythreebeediecigarettesfromKumar’sshopcounter,andlitthemwiththesamematch,holdingtheminonehandandburningtheendswiththeother.HepassedoneeachtoDidierandme,andsatdownagain,smokingcontentedly.
“Ah,yes,thereisanotherpieceofnews-Kavitahastakenanewjobatanewspaper,TheNoonday.Sheisafeatureswriter.Itisajobwithmuchprestige,Iunderstand,andafasttracktoasub-editor’sposition.Shewonitinafieldofmanytalentedcandidates,andsheisveryhappy.”
“IlikeKavita,”Ifeltmovedtosay.
“Youknow,”Didieroffered,staringattheglowingendofhisbeedieandthenlookingupatme,genuinelysurprised,“sodoI.”
Welaughedagain,andIdeliberatelyincludedPrabakerinthejoke.Parvatiwatchedusfromthecornersofhersmoulderingeyes.
“Listen,”Iasked,seizingthemomentarypauseinourconversation,“doesthenameHassaanObikwameananythingtoyou?”
Didier’smentionofMaurizio’snew,ten-thousand-dollarRolexhadremindedmeoftheNigerian.Ifishedthegold-and-whitebusinesscardfrommyshirtpocket,andhandeditover.
“But,ofcourse!”Didierreplied.“ThisisafamousBorsalino.
TheycallhimTheBodySnatcher,intheAfricanghetto.”
“Well,that’sagoodstart,”Imuttered,awrysmiletwistingmylips.Prabakerslappedathisthigh,anddoubledoverwithnearhystericallaughter.Iputahandonhisshouldertocalmhimdown.
“TheysaythatwhenHassaanObikwasnatchesabodyaway,noteventhedevilhimselfcanfindit.Theyareneveragainseenbylivingmen.Jamais!Howdoyoucometoknowhim?Howdidyougethiscard?”
“Isortof,bumpedintohim,earliertoday,”Ianswered,retrievingthecardandslippingitintomypocket.
“Well,becareful,mydearfriend,”Didiersniffed,clearlyhurtthatIhadn’tprovidedthedetailsofmyencounterwithHassaan.
“ThisObikwaislikeaking,ablackking,inhisownkingdom.
Andyouknowtheoldsaying-akingisabadenemy,aworsefriend,andafatalfamilyrelation.”
Justthenagroupofyoungmenapproachedus.Theywerelabourersfromtheconstructionsite,andmostofthemlivedonthelegalsideoftheslum.They’dallpassedthroughmysmallclinicduringthelastyear,mostofthemwantingmetopatchupwoundsthey’dreceivedinworkaccidents.Itwaspaydayatthesite,andtheywereflushedwiththeexcitedoptimismthatafullpaypacketputsintoyoung,hard-workinghearts.Theyshookhandswithme,eachinturn,andpausedlongenoughtoseethenewroundofchaiandsweetcakesthey’dboughtforusdeliveredtoourtable.Whentheyleft,Iwasgrinningaswidelyastheywere.
“Thissocialworkseemstosuityou,”Didiercommentedthroughanarchsmile.“Youlooksowellandsofit-underneaththebruisesandscratches,thatis.Ithinkyoumustbeaverybadman,inyourheartofhearts,Lin.Onlyawickedmanwouldderivesuchbenefitfromgoodworks.Agoodman,ontheotherhand,wouldsimplybewornoutandbadtempered.”
“I’msureyou’reright,Didier,”Isaid,stillgrinning.“Karlasaidyou’reusuallyright,aboutthewrongyoufindinpeople.”
“Please,myfriend!”heprotested,“Youwillturnmyhead!”
Thesuddencrashofmanydrumsexploded,thumpingmusicdirectlyoutsidethechaishop.Flutesandtrumpetsjoinedthedrums,andawild,raucousmusicbegan.Iknewthemusicandthemusicianswell.Itwasoneofthejanglingpopulartunesthattheslummusiciansplayedwhenevertherewasafestivaloracelebration.Weallwenttotheopenfrontoftheshop.Prabakerstoodonabenchbesideustopeerovertheshouldersofthecrowd.
“Whatisit?Aparade?”Didieraskedaswewatchedalargetroupeslowlywalkpasttheshop.
“It’sJoseph!”Prabakercried,pointingalongthelane.“JosephandMaria!They’recoming!”
Somedistanceaway,wecouldseeJosephandhiswife,surroundedbyrelativesandfriends,andapproachinguswithceremoniallyslowsteps.Infrontofthemwasapackofcaperingchildren,dancingouttheirunself-consciousandnear-hystericalenthusiasm.Someofthemadoptedposesfromtheirfavouritemoviedancescenes,andcopiedthestepsofthestars.Othersleaptaboutlikeacrobats,orinventedjerky,exuberantdancesoftheirown.
Listeningtotheband,watchingthechildren,andthinkingofTariq-missingtheboyalready-Irememberedanincidentfromtheprison.Inthatotherworld-within-a-world,backthen,Imovedintoanewprisoncellanddiscoveredatinymousethere.Thecreatureenteredthroughacrackedairvent,andcreptintothecelleverynight.Patienceandobsessionalfocusarethegemswemineinthetunnelsofprisonsolitude.Usingthem,andtinymorselsoffood,Ibribedthelittlemouse,overseveralweeks,andeventuallytrainedittoeatfromtheedgeofmyhand.Whentheprisonguardsmovedmefromthatcell,inaroutinerotation,Itoldthenewtenant-aprisonerIthoughtIknewwell-aboutthetrainedmouse.Onthemorningafterthemove,heinvitedmetoseethemouse.He’dcapturedthetrustingcreature,andcrucifiedit,facedown,onacrossmadefromabrokenruler.Helaughedashetoldmehowthemousehadstruggledwhenhe’dtieditbyitsnecktothecrosswithcottonthread.Hemarvelledathowlongithadtakentodrivethumbtacksintoitswrigglingpaws.
Areweeverjustifiedinwhatwedo?ThatquestionruinedmysleepforalongtimeafterIsawthetorturedlittlemouse.Whenweact,evenwiththebestofintentions,whenweinterferewiththeworld,wealwaysriskanewdisasterthatmightn’tbeofourmaking,butthatwouldn’toccurwithoutouraction.Someoftheworstwrongs,Karlaoncesaid,werecausedbypeoplewhotriedtochangethings.Ilookedattheslumchildrendancinglikeamoviechorusandcaperingliketemplemonkeys.Iwasteachingsomeofthosechildrentospeak,read,andwriteEnglish.Already,withjustthelittlethey’dlearnedinthreemonths,afewofthemwerewinningworkfromforeigntourists.Werethosechildren,Iwondered,themicethatfedfrommyhand?Wouldtheirtrustinginnocencebeseizedbyafatethatwouldn’tandcouldn’thavebeentheirswithoutme,withoutmyinterventionintheirlives?
WhatwoundsandtormentsawaitedTariqsimplybecauseI’dbefriendedandtaughthim?
“Josephbeathiswife,”Prabakerexplainedasthecoupledrewnear.“Nowthepeopleareabigcelebration.”
“Iftheyparadelikethiswhenamanbeatshiswife,whatpartiestheymustthrowwhenoneiskilled,”Didiercommented,hiseyebrowsarchedinsurprise.
“Hewasdrunk,andhebeatherterribly,”Isaid,shoutingabovethedin.“Andapunishmentwasimposedonhimbyherfamilyandthewholecommunity.”
“Igavetohimafewgoodwhackswiththestickmyownself!”
Prabakeradded,hisfaceaglowwithhappyexcitement.
“Overthelastfewmonths,heworkedhard,stayedsober,anddidalotofjobsinthecommunity,”Icontinued.“Itwaspartofhispunishment,andawayofearningtherespectofhisneighboursagain.Hiswifeforgavehimacoupleofmonthsago.They’vebeenworkingandsavingmoneytogether.They’vegotenough,now,andthey’releavingtodayonaholiday.”
“Well,thereareworsethingsforpeopletocelebrate,”Didierdecided,permittinghimselfalittleshoulderandhiprollintimetothethrobbingdrumsandsnake-flutes.“Oh,Ialmostforgot.Thereisasuperstition,afamoussuperstitionattachedtothatHassaanObikwa.Youshouldknowaboutit.”
“I’mnotsuperstitious,Didier,”Icalledbackoverthethumpandwailofthemusic.
“Don’tberidiculous!”hescoffed.“Everyoneinthewholeworldissuperstitious.”
“That’soneofKarla’slines,”Iretorted.
Hefrowned,pursinghislipsashestrainedhismemorytorecall.
“Itis?”“Absolutely.It’saKarlaline,Didier.”
“Incredible,”hemuttered.“Ithoughtitwasoneofmine.Areyousure?”
“I’msure.”
“Well,nomatter.Thesuperstition,abouthim,isthateveryonewhomeetsHassaanObikwa,andexchangesnameswithhiminagreeting,willonedayfindhimselfaclientofhis-eitheralivingclientoradeadone.Toavoidthisfate,youdon’ttellhimyournamewhenyoumeethimthefirsttime.No-oneeverdoes.
Youdidn’ttellhimyourname,didyou?”
Aroarwentupfromthecrowdsurroundingus.JosephandMariawereclose.Astheyapproached,Isawherradiant,hopeful,bravesmileandhiscompetingexpressionsofshameanddetermination.
Shewasbeautiful,withherthickhairtrimmedshortandstyledtomatchthemoderncutofherbestdress.He’dlostweight,andlookedfit,healthy,andhandsome.Heworeablueshirtandnewtrousers.Husbandandwifepressedagainstoneanothertightly,stepforstep,allfourhandsballedintoabouquetofclenchedfingers.Familymembersfollowedthem,holdingablueshawltocatchnotesandcoinsthrownbythecrowd.
Prabakercouldn’tresistthecalltodance.Heleaptoffthebenchandjoinedthethicktangleofjerking,writhingbodiesthatprecededJosephandMariaonthetrack.Stumblingandtotteringonhisplatformshoes,heskippedtothecentreofthedancers.Hisarmswereoutstretchedforbalanceasifhewascrossingashallowriveronapathofstones.Hisyellowshirtflashedashewhirledandlurchedandlaughedinthedance.
Didier,too,wasdrawnintotheavalancheofrevelrythatploughedthroughthelonglanetothestreet.Iwatchedhimglideandswaygracefullyintotheparty,sweptalongintherhythmicdanceuntilonlyhishandswerevisibleabovehisdark,curlyhair.
Girlsthrewshowersofflowerpetalspluckedfromchrysanthemums.
Theyburstinbrilliantwhiteclusters,andsettledonallofusintheconvergingcrowd.Justbeforethecouplepassedme,Josephturnedtolookintomyeyes.Hisfacewasfixedbetweenasmileandafrown.Hiseyeswereburning,glisteningbeneaththetightbrowsofhisfrown,whilehislipsheldahappysmile.Henoddedtwicebeforelookingaway
Hecouldn’tknowit,ofcourse;butwiththatsimplenodofhishead,Josephhadansweredthequestionthathadremainedwithme,asadullacheofdoubt,sincetheprison.Josephwassaved.Thatwasthelooksimmeringinhiseyesashenoddedhishead.Itwasthefeverofsalvation.Thatlook,thatfrowningsmile,combinedshameandexultationbecausebothareessential-shamegivesexultationitspurpose,andexultationgivesshameitsreward.We’dsavedhimasmuchbyjoininginhisexultationaswehadbywitnessinghisshame.Andallofitdependeduponouraction,ourinterferenceinhislife,becausenomanissavedwithoutlove.
Whatcharacterisesthehumanracemore,Karlaonceaskedme,cruelty,orthecapacitytofeelshameforit?Ithoughtthequestionacutelycleverthen,whenIfirstheardit,butI’mlonelierandwisernow,andIknowitisn’tcrueltyorshamethatcharacterisesthehumanrace.It’sforgivenessthatmakesuswhatweare.Withoutforgiveness,ourspecieswould’veannihilateditselfinendlessretributions.Withoutforgiveness,therewouldbenohistory.Withoutthathope,therewouldbenoart,foreveryworkofartisinsomewayanactofforgiveness.Withoutthatdream,therewouldbenolove,foreveryactofloveisinsomewayapromisetoforgive.Weliveonbecausewecanlove,andwelovebecausewecanforgive.
Thedrumsstaggeredtowardthedistantstreet.Movingawayfromus,thedancersrompedandrolledontherhythm,theirswayingheadslikeafieldofwildflowersweavingbackandforthonwavesofwind.Asthemusicdwindledtoanechoinourminds,thedayto-dayandminute-to-minuteofslumlifeslowlyreclaimedthelanes.Wegaveourselvestoourroutines,ourneeds,andourharmless,hopefulscheming.Andforawhile,alittlewhile,ourswasabetterworldbecausetheheartsandsmilesthatruleditwerealmostaspureandcleanastheflowerpetalsflutteringfromourhair,andclingingtoourfaceslikestill,whitetears.
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CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Therockycuspofcoastlineborderingtheslumbeganinmangroveswamp,atitsleft,andsweptthroughdeeperwateraroundalongnew-mooncurveofwhite-crestedwaveletstoNarimanPoint.Themonsoonwasatfullstrength,butjustatthatmomentnorainfellfromthegrey-blackoceanofthelightning-fracturedsky.
Wadingbirdsswoopedintotheshallowswamp,andnestledamongtheslender,tremblingreeds.Fishingboatspliedtheirnetsontheraggedwavesofthebay.Childrenswamandplayedalongthebouldered,pebble-strewnshoreline.Onthegoldencrescent,acrossthesmallbay,apartmenttowersfortherichstoodshouldertoshouldertoshoulder,allthewaytotheembassydistrictatthePoint.Inthelargecourtyardsandrecreationareasofthosetowers,thewealthywalkedandtooktheair.Seenfromthedistantslum,thewhiteshirtsofthemenandcolourfulsarisofthewomenwerelikesomanybeadsthreadedbyameditatingmindontheblackstringsofasphaltpaths.Theair,there,onthatrockyfringeoftheslumwascleanandcool.Thesilenceswerelargeenoughtoswallowoccasionalsounds.TheareawasknownastheColabaBackBay.Therewerefewplacesinthecitybettersuitedtothespiritualandphysicalstocktakingthatawantedmanworrieshimselfwith,whentheomensarebadenough.
Isatalone,onaboulderthatwaslargerandflatterthanmost,andIsmokedacigarette.Ismokedinthosedaysbecause,likeeveryoneelseintheworldwhosmokes,IwantedtodieatleastasmuchasIwantedtolive.
Sunlightsuddenlypushedasidethesoddenmonsoonclouds,andforafewmomentsthewindowsoftheapartmentbuildingsacrossthebayweredazzling,brilliantmirrorsofthegoldensun.Then,horizon-wide,theraincloudsregrouped,andslowlysealedthesplendentcircleofsky,herdingoneagainstanotheruntilheavenmatchedtherollingseawithdark,waterywavesofcloud.Ilitanewcigarettewiththebuttofthelast,andthoughtaboutlove,andthoughtaboutsex.UnderpressurefromDidier,whopermittedhisfriendstokeepanysecretsbutthoseoftheflesh,I’dadmittedthatIhadn’tmadelovetoanyonesinceI’darrivedinIndia.Thatisaverylongtimebetweenthedrinks,myfriend,he’dsaid,gaspinginhorror,andIproposethatitwouldbeagoodideatogetverydrunk,ifyouhavemymeaning,andverysoon.Andhewasright,ofcourse:thelongerIwentwithoutit,themoreimportantitseemedtobecome.Iwassurrounded,intheslum,bybeautifulIndiangirlsandwomenwhoprovokedsmallsymphoniesofinspiration.Ineverletmyeyesormythoughtswandertoofarintheirdirection-itwould’vecompromisedeverythingthatIwas,anddid,astheslumdoctor.Buttherewereopportunitieswithforeigngirls,tourists,ineveryotherdealthatIdidwiththem,everyotherday.German,French,andItaliangirlsofteninvitedmebacktotheirhotelroomsforasmoke,onceI’dhelpedthemtobuyhashorgrass.Iknewthatsomethingmorethansmokingwasusuallyintended.AndIwastempted.SometimesIachedwithit.ButIcouldn’tgetKarlaoutofmymind.Anddeepwithinme-Istilldon’tknowwhetherit’slove,orfear,orgoodjudgementthatspawnssuchafeeling-IsensedwithallofmyintuitionthatifIdidn’twaitforher,itwouldn’thappen.
Icouldn’texplainthatlovetoKarla,oranyoneelse,includingmyself.Ineverbelievedinloveatfirstsightuntilithappenedtome.Then,whenitdidhappen,itwasasifeveryatominmybodyhadbeenchanged,somehow:asifI’dbecomechargedwithlightandheat.Iwasdifferent,forever,justforthesightofher.Andthelovethatopenedinmyheartseemedtodragtherestofmylifebehindit,fromthatmomentonward.Iheardhervoiceineverylovelysoundthewindwrappedaroundme.Isawherfaceinbrilliantmirroredflaresofmemory,everyday.Sometimes,whenIthoughtofher,thehungertotouchherandtokissherandtobreatheacinnamon-scentedminuteofherblackhairclawedatmychestandcrushedtheairinmylungs.Clouds,heavywiththeirburdenofmonsoonrain,massedabovethecity,abovemyhead,anditseemedtomeinthoseweeksthatallgreyheavenwasmybroodinglove.Theverymangrovestrembledwithmydesire.Andatnight,toomanynights,itwasmyrestivesleepthatrolledandturnedtheseainlusteddreaming,untilthesuneachmorningrosewithloveforher.Butshewasn’tinlovewithme,she’dsaid,andshedidn’twantmetoloveher.Didier,tryingtowarnme,tryingtohelpmeorsaveme,perhaps,hadsaidoncethatnothinggrievesmoredeeplyorpatheticallythanonehalfofagreatlovethatisn’tmeanttobe.Andhewasright,ofcourse,uptoapoint.ButIcouldn’tletitgo,thathopeoflovingher,andIcouldn’tignoretheinstinctthatenjoinedmetowait,andwait.
Thentherewasthatotherlove,afather’slove,andtheson’slovethatIfeltforKhaderbhai.LordAbdelKhaderKhan.Hisfriend,AbdulGhani,hadcalledhimamooringpost,withthelivesofthousandstiedtohislifeforsafety.Myownlifeseemedtobeoneofthoseharnessedtohis.YetIcouldn’tclearlyseethemeansbywhichfatehadboundmetohim,norwasIcompletelyfreetoleave.WhenAbdulhadspokenofhissearchforwisdom,andtheanswerstohisthreebigquestions,he’dunwittinglydescribedmyownprivatesearchforsomethingorsomeonetobelieve.I’dwalkedthatsamedusty,brokenroadtowardafaith.ButeverytimeI’dheardthestoryofabelief,everytimeI’dseensomenewguru,theresultwasthesame:thestorywasunconvincinginsomeway,andtheguruwasflawed.
Everyfaithrequiredmetoacceptsomecompromise.Everyteacherrequiredmetoclosemyeyestosomefault.AndthentherewasAbdelKhaderKhan,smilingatmysuspicionswithhishoneycolouredeyes.Ishetherealthing,Ibegantoaskmyself.Ishetheone?
“Itisverybeautiful,isn’tit?”JohnnyCigarasked,sittingbesidemeandstaringoutatthedark,impatientrestlessnessofthewaves.
“Yeah,”Ianswered,passinghimacigarette.
“Ourlife,itprobablybeganinsideoftheocean,”Johnnysaidquietly.“Aboutfourthousandmillionyearsbeforenow.Probablynearhotplaces,likevolcanoes,underthesea.”
Iturnedtolookathim.
“Andforalmostallofthatlongtime,allthelivingthingswerewaterthings,livinginsidethesea.Then,afewhundredmillionyearsago,maybealittlemore-justalittlewhile,really,inthebighistoryoftheEarth-thelivingthingsbegantobelivingontheland,aswell.”
Iwasfrowningandsmilingatthesametime,surprisedandbewildered.Iheldmybreath,afraidthatanysoundmightinterrupthismusing.
“Butinawayyoucansaythatafterleavingthesea,afterallthosemillionsofyearsoflivinginsideofthesea,wetooktheoceanwithus.Whenawomanmakesababy,shegivesitwater,insideherbody,togrowin.Thatwaterinsideherbodyisalmostexactlythesameasthewaterofthesea.Itissalty,byjustthesameamount.Shemakesalittleocean,inherbody.Andnotonlythis.Ourbloodandoursweating,theyarebothsalty,almostexactlylikethewaterfromtheseaissalty.Wecarryoceansinsideofus,inourbloodandoursweat.Andwearecryingtheoceans,inourtears.”
Hefellsilent,andatlastIspokemyamazement.
“Wherethehelldidyoulearnthat?”Isnapped,perhapsalittleharshly.
“Ireaditinabook,”hereplied,turningtomewithshyconcerninhisbrave,browneyes.“Why?Isitwrong?HaveIsaiditwrongly?Ihavethebook,inmyhouse.ShallIgetitforyou?”
“No,no,it’sright.It’s…perfectlyright.”
Itwasmyturntolapseintosilence.Iwasfuriouswithmyself.
Despitemyintimateknowledgeoftheslum-dwellers,andthedebtIowedthem-they’dtakenmein,andgivenmeallthesupportandfriendshiptheirheartscouldhold-Istillfellintothebigot’strap.Johnnyshockedmewithhisknowledgebecause,somewhereinmydeepestappraisaloftheslum-dwellers,therewasaprejudicethattheyhadnorighttosuchknowledge.InmysecretheartI’djudgedthemasignorant,eventhoughIknewbetter,simplybecausetheywerepoor.
“Lin!Lin!”myneighbourJeetendracalledoutinafrightenedshriek,andweturnedtoseehimclamberingovertherockstowardus.“Lin!Mywife!MyRadha!Sheisverysick!”
“Whatisit?What’sthematter?”
“Shehasbadloosemotions.Sheisveryhotwithfever.Andsheisvomiting,”Jeetendrapuffed.“She’slookingbad.She’slookingverybad.”
“Let’sgo,”Igrunted,jumpingupandleapingfromstonetostoneuntilIreachedthebrokenpathleadingbacktotheslum.
WefoundRadhalyingonathinblanketinherhut.Herbodywastwistedintoaknotofpain.Herhairwaswet,saturatedwithsweat,aswasthepinksarishewore.Thesmellinthehutwasterrible.Chandrika,Jeetendra’smother,wastryingtokeepherclean,butRadha’sfeverrenderedherincoherentandincontinent.
Shevomitedagainviolentlyaswewatched,andthatprovokedanewdribbleofdiarrhoea.
“Whendiditstart?”
“Twodaysago,”Jeetendraanswered,desperationdrawingdownthecornersofhismouthinagrimace.“Twodaysago?”
“Youwereoutsomeplace,withtourists,verylate.ThenyouwereatQasimAli,hishouse,untillatelastnight.Thenyouwerealsogonetoday,fromveryearly.Youwerenothere.AtthefirstIthoughtitwasjustaloosemotions.Butsheisverysick,Linbaba.Itriedthreetimestogetherinthehospital,buttheywillnottakeher.”
“Shehastogobacktohospital,”Isaidflatly.“She’sintrouble,Jeetu.”
“Whattodo?Whattodo,Linbaba?”hewhined,tearsfillinghiseyesandspillingonhischeeks.“Theywillnottakeher.Therearetoomanypeopleatthehospital.Toomanypeople.Iwaitedforsixhourstodayaltogether-sixhours!Intheopen,withallothersickpeoples.Intheend,shewasbeggingmetocomebacktohere,toherhouse.Soashamed,shewas.So,Icameback,justnow.That’swhyIwentsearchingforyou,andcalledyouonly.
I’mveryworried,Linbaba.”
Itoldhimtothrowoutthewaterinhismatka,washitoutthoroughly,andgetfreshwater.IinstructedChandrikatoboilfreshwateruntilitbubbledfortenminutesandthentousethatwater,whenitcooled,asdrinkingwaterforRadha.JeetendraandJohnnycamewithmetomyhut,whereIcollectedglucosetabletsandaparacetamol-codeinemixture.Ihopedtoreduceherpainandfeverwiththem.JeetendrawasjustleavingwiththemedicinewhenPrabakerrushedin.Therewasanguishinhiseyesandinthehandsthatgraspedme.
“Lin!Lin!Parvatiissick!Verysick!Pleasecometoofast!”
Thegirlwaswrithinginthespasmofanagonythatcentredonherstomach.Sheclutchedatherbellyandcurledupinaball,onlytoflingherarmsandlegsoutwardinaback-archingconvulsion.Hertemperaturewasveryhigh.Shewasslipperywithsweat.Thesmellsofdiarrhoeaandvomitweresostronginthedesertedchaishopthatthegirl’sparentsandsisterheldclothstotheirmouthsandnoses.Parvati’sparents,KumarandNanditaPatak,weretryingtocopewiththeillness,buttheirexpressionswereequallyhelplessanddefeated.Itwasameasureoftheirdespondencyandtheirfearthatdreadhadbanishedmodesty,andtheyallowedthegirltobeexaminedinaflimsyundergarmentthatrevealedhershouldersandmostofonebreast.
TerrorfilledtheeyesofParvati’ssister,Sita.Shehunchedinacornerofthehut,herprettyfacepinchedandcrampedbythehorrorshefelt.Itwasn’tanordinarysickness,andsheknewit.
JohnnyCigarspoketothegirlinHindi.Histonewasharsh,almostbrutal.Hewarnedherthathersister’slifewasinherhands,andheadmonishedherforhercowardice.Momentbymoment,hisvoiceguidedheroutoftheforestofherblackfear.Atlastshelookedupandintohiseyes,asifseeinghimforthefirsttime.Sheshookherself,andthencrawledacrossthefloortowipehersister’smouthwithapieceofwettowelling.WiththatcalltoarmsfromJohnnyCigar,andthesimple,solicitousgesturefromSita,thebattlebegan.
Cholera.Bynightfallthereweretenseriouscases,andadozenmorepossible.Bydawnthenextdaythereweresixtyadvancedcases,andasmanyasahundredwithsomesymptoms.Bynoon,onthatday,thefirstofthevictimsdied.ItwasRadha,mynextdoorneighbour.
TheofficialfromtheBombayMunicipalCorporation’sDepartmentofHealthwasatired,astute,condolentmaninhisearlyfortiesnamedSandeepJyoti.Hiscompassionateeyeswerealmostthesameshadeofdarktanashisglistening,sweat-oilyskin.Hishairwasunkempt,andhepusheditbackfrequentlywiththelongfingersofhisrighthand.Aroundhisnecktherewasamask,whichheliftedtohismouthwheneverheenteredahutorencounteredoneofthevictimsoftheillness.HestoodtogetherwithDoctorHamid,QasimAliHussein,Prabaker,andmenearmyhutaftermakinghisfirstexaminationoftheslum.
“We’lltakethesesamplesandhavethemanalysed,”hesaid,noddingtoanassistantwhofiledblood,sputum,andstoolsamplesinametalcarrycase.“ButI’msureyou’reright,Hamid.
Therearetwelveothercholeraoutbreaks,betweenhereandKandivli.They’resmall,mostly.Butthere’sabadoneinThane-morethanahundrednewcaseseveryday.Allthelocalhospitalsareovercrowded.Butthisisnotbad,really,forthemonsoon.Wehopewecankeepacaponitatfifteenortwentyinfectionsites.”
Iwaitedforoneoftheotherstospeak,buttheysimplynoddedtheirheadsgravely.
“We’vegottogetthesepeopletohospital,”Isaidatlast.
“Look,”hereplied,glancingaroundhimanddrawingadeepbreath,“wecantakesomeofthecriticalcases.I’llarrangeit.
Butit’sjustnotpossibletotakeeveryone.I’mnotgoingtotellyouanylies.It’sthesameintenotherhutments.I’vebeentothemall,andthemessageisthesame.Youhavetofightitouthere,onyourown.Youhavetogetthroughit.”“Areyououtofyourfuckingmind?”Isnarledathim,feelingthefearprowlinmygut.“WealreadylostmyneighbourRadhathismorning.There’sthirtythousandpeoplehere.It’sridiculoustosaywehavetofightitoutourselves.You’rethehealthdepartment,forGod’ssake!”
SandeepJyotiwatchedhisassistantcloseandsecurethesamplecases.Whenheturnedbacktome,Isawthathisbloodshoteyeswereangry.Heresentedtheindignanttone,especiallycomingfromaforeigner,andwasembarrassedthathisdepartmentcouldn’tdomorefortheslum-dwellers.Ifithadn’tbeensoobvioustohimthatIlivedandworkedintheslum,andthatthepeoplelikedmeasmuchastheyreliedonme,hewould’vetoldmetogotohell.Iwatchedallthosethoughtsshiftacrosshistired,handsomefaceandthenIsawthepatient,resigned,almostaffectionatesmilethatreplacedthemasheranahandthroughhisuntidyhair.
“Look,Ireallydon’tneedalecturefromaforeigner,fromarichcountry,abouthowbadlywelookafterourownpeople,orthevalueofahumanlife.Iknowyou’reupset,andHamidtellsmeyoudoagoodjobhere,butIdealwiththissituationeveryday,alloverthestate.ThereareahundredmillionpeopleinMaharashtra,andwevaluethemall.Wedoourbest.”
“Sureyoudo,”Isighedinreturn,reachingouttotouchhisarm.
“I’msorry.Ididn’tmeantotakeitoutonyou.I’mjust…I’mwayoutofmydepthhereand…IguessI’mscared.”
“Whydoyoustayhere,whenyoucanleave?”
Itwasanabruptquestion,underthecircumstances,andalmostrude.Icouldn’tanswerit.
“Idon’tknow.Idon’tknow.Ilove…Ilovethiscity.Whydoyoustay?”
Hestudiedmyeyesforamomentlonger,andthenhisfrownsoftenedagaininagentlesmile.
“Whathelpcanyougiveus?”DoctorHamidasked.
“Notmuch,I’msorrytosay.”Helookedatthedreadinmyeyes,andheavedasighfromthehillofexhaustioninhisheart.“I’llarrangeforsometrainedvolunteerstocomeandgiveyouahand.
IwishIcoulddomore.ButI’msure,youknow,I’msurethatyouallcanhandleithere-probablyalotbetterthanyouthink,justatthismoment.You’vealreadymadeagoodstart.Wheredidyougetthesalts?”
“Ibroughtthem,”Hamidansweredquickly,becausetheORTsaltshadbeensuppliedillegallybyKhaderbhai’slepers.“WhenItoldhimIthoughtwehadcholerahere,hebroughttheORTs,andtoldmehowtousethem,”Iadded.“Butit’snoteasy.
Someofthesepeoplearetoosicktoholdthemdown.”
ORT,orOralRehydrationTherapy,hadbeendevisedbyJonRohde,ascientistwhoworkedwithlocalandUNICEFdoctorsinBangladeshduringthelate1960sandearly1970s.Theoralrehydrationsolutionthathedevelopedcontaineddistilledwater,sugar,commonsalt,andothermineralsincarefullymixedproportions.Rohdeknewthatwhatkillspeoplewhoarecontaminatedwiththecholerabacteriumisdehydration.Theuglyfactisthattheyshitandvomitthemselvestodeath.Hediscoveredthatasolutionofwater,salt,andsugarkeptpeoplealivelongenoughforthebacteriumtopassthroughtheirsystems.Ranjit’slepers,atDoctorHamid’srequest,hadgivenmeboxesofthesolution.Ihadnoideahowmuchmoreofthestuffwecouldexpecttoreceive,orhowmuchwewouldneed.
“Wecangetyouadeliveryofsalts,”SandeepJyotisaid.“We’llgetthemtoyouassoonaspossible.Thecityisstretchedtoitslimits,butI’llmakesureyougetateamofvolunteershereassoonaswecansendthem.I’llputapriorityonit.Goodluck.”
Wewatchedingrimsilenceashefollowedhisassistantoutoftheslum.Wewereallafraid.
QasimAliHusseintookcontrol.Hedeclaredhishometobeacommandcentre.Wecalledameetingthere,andsometwentymenandwomengatheredtodeviseaplan.Choleraislargelyawaterbornedisease.Thevibriocholeraebacteriumspreadsfromcontaminatedwaterandlodgesitselfinthesmallintestine,producingthefever,diarrhoea,andvomitingthatcausedehydrationanddeath.Wedeterminedtopurifytheslum’swater,beginningwiththeholdingtanksandthenmovingontothepotsandbucketsineachoftheseventhousandhuts.QasimAliproducedabundleofrupeenotesasthickasaman’sknee,andgaveittoJohnnyCigar,deputinghimtobuythewaterpurificationtabletsandothermedicineswewouldneed.
Becausesomuchrainwaterhadaccumulatedinpuddlesandrivuletsthroughouttheslum,thosetoohadprovidedbreedinggroundsforthebacteria.Itwasdecidedthatachainofshallowtrencheswouldbeestablishedatstrategicpointsinthelanesoftheslum.Theywouldbefilledwithdisinfectant,andeachpersonwalkingthelanewouldberequiredtopassthroughtheankle-deepantisepticdrench.Plasticbinsforsafedisposalofwastematerialsweretobeplacedatdesignatedpoints,andantisepticsoapwouldbegiventoeveryhousehold.
Soupkitchenswouldbeestablishedinthechaishopsandrestaurantstoprovidesafe,boiledfoodandsterilisedcupsandbowls.Ateamwasalsoassignedtothetaskofremovingthebodiesofthedeadandtakingthemonatrundle-carttothehospital.Mytaskwastosupervisetheuseoftheoralrehydrationsolutionandtopreparebatchesofahomemademixtureasrequired.
Theywereallhugeundertakingsandonerousresponsibilities,butnomanorwomanatthegatheringhesitatedinacceptingthem.
It’sacharacteristicofhumannaturethatthebestqualities,calledupquicklyinacrisis,areveryoftenthehardesttofindinaprosperouscalm.Thecontoursofallourvirtuesareshapedbyadversity.Buttherewasanotherreason,farfromvirtue,formyowneagernesstoacceptthetasks-areasonfoundinshame.MyneighbourRadhahadbeendesperatelyillfortwodaysbeforeshedied,andI’dknownnothingofitatthetime.Iwasgrippedbyafeelingthatmypride,myhubris,wasresponsibleforthesicknessinsomeway:thatmyclinicwasfoundedinanarrogance–myarrogance-thathadallowedthediseasetobreedinthesmearofitsconceits.IknewthatnothingI’ddoneorneglectedtodohadcausedtheepidemic.AndIknewthatthediseasewouldVeattackedtheslum,soonerorlater,withorwithoutmypresence.ButIcouldn’tshakeoffthefeelingthat,somehow,mycomplacencyhadmademecomplicit.
Justaweekbefore,I’dcelebratedwithdancinganddrinkingbecause,whenI’dopenedmylittleclinic,no-onehadcome.Notoneman,woman,orchildinallthethousandshadneededmyhelp.
Thetreatmentqueuethathadbegunwithhundreds,ninemonthsbefore,hadfinallydwindledtonone.AndI’ddancedanddrunkwithPrabakerthatday,asifI’dcuredthewholeslumofitsailmentsandillnesses.ThatcelebrationseemedvainandstupidasIhurriedthroughthesoddenlanestothescoreswhoweresick.Andtherewasguiltinthatshameaswell.ForthetwodayswhilemyneighbourRadhalaydying,I’dbeeningratiatingmyselfwithtouristcustomersintheirfive-starhotel.Whileshe’dwrithedandthrashedonadampearthfloor,I’dbeencallingdowntoroomservicetoordermoreice-creamandcrepes.
Irushedbacktotheclinic.Itwasempty.PrabakerwaslookingafterParvati.JohnnyCigarhadtakenonthejoboflocatingandremovingthedead.Jeetendra,sittingonthegroundoutsideourhutswithhisfaceinhishands,wassinkinginthequicksandofhisgrief.IgavehimthejobofmakingseverallargepurchasesformeandcheckingonallthechemistsintheareaforORTs.Iwaswatchinghimshambleawaydownthelanetowardthestreet,worryingabouthim,worryingabouthisyoungson,Satish,whowasalsoill,whenIsawawomaninthedistancewalkingtowardme.BeforeIcouldactuallyknowwhoitwas,myheartwassureitwasKarla.
Sheworeasalwarkameez-themostflatteringgarmentintheworld,afterthesari-intwoshadesofseagreen.Thelongtunicwasadeepergreen,andthepantsbeneath,tightattheankle,werepaler.Therewasalsoalongyellowscarf,wornbackwards,Indianstyle,withtheplumesofcolourtrailingoutbehindher.
Herblackhairwaspulledbacktightlyandfastenedatthenapeofherneck.Thehairstylethrewattentionatherlargegreeneyes-thegreenoflagoons,whereshallowwaterlapsatgoldensand-andatherblackeyebrowsandperfectmouth.Herlipswerelikethesoftridgesofdunesinthedesertatsunset;likethecrestsofwavesmeetinginthefrothyrushtoshore;likethefoldedwingsofcourtingbirds.Themovementsofherbody,asshewalkedtowardmeonthebrokenlane,werelikestorm-windstirringinastandofyoungwillowtrees.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Thosecharmschoollessonsarepayingoff,Isee,”shedrawled,soundingveryAmerican.Shearchedoneeyebrow,andpursedherlipsinasarcasticsmile.
“It’snotsafehere,”Iscowled.
“Iknow.Didierranintooneofyourfriendsfromhere.Hetoldmeaboutit.”
“So,whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Icametohelpyou.”
“Helpmewhat?”Idemanded,exasperatedbymyworryforher.
“Helpyou…dowhateveryoudohere.Helpotherpeople.Isn’tthatwhatyoudo?”
“Youhavetogo.Youcan’tstay.It’stoodangerous.Peoplearedroppingdowneverywhere.Idon’tknowhowbadit’llget.”
“I’mnotgoing,”shesaidcalmly,staringherdeterminationintome.Thelarge,greeneyesblazed,indomitable,andshewasnevermorebeautiful.“Icareaboutyou,andI’mstayingwithyou.Whatdoyouwantmetodo?”“It’sridiculous!”Isighed,rubbingthefrustrationthroughmyhair.“It’sbloodystupid.”
“Listen,”shesaid,surprisingmewithawidesmile,“doyouthinkyou’retheonlyonewhoneedstogoonthissalvationride?
Now,tellme,calmly-whatdoyouwantmetodo?”
Ididneedhelp,notjustwiththephysicalworkofnursingthepeople,butalsowiththedoubtandfearandshamethatthrobbedinmythroatandchest.Oneoftheironiesofcourage,andthereasonwhyweprizeitsohighly,isthatwefinditeasiertobebraveforsomeoneelsethanwedoforourselvesalone.AndIlovedher.Thetruthwasthatwhilemywordswarnedherawaytosafety,myfanaticheartconnivedwithmyeyestomakeherstay.
“Well,there’splentytodo.Butbecareful!Andthefirstsignthat…thatyou’renotokay,yougrabataxitomyfriendHamid’s.He’sadoctor.Isthatadeal?”
Shereachedouttoplaceherlong,slenderhandinmine.Thehandshakewasfirmandconfident.
“It’sadeal,”shesaid.“Wheredowestart?”
Westartedwithatouroftheslum,visitingthesickanddispensingpacketsofthesolution.Therewere,bythen,morethanahundredpeoplepresentingsymptomsofcholera,andhalfofthemwereseriouscases.Allowingjustafewminuteswitheachofthevictims,itstilltookustwentyhours.Constantlyonthemove,wedranksouporsugarychaifromsterilecupsasouronlyfood.Byeveningofthefollowingday,wesatdowntoeatourfirstfullmeal.Wewereexhausted,buthungerdroveustochewthroughthehotrotisandvegetables.Then,somewhatrefreshed,wesetoffonasecondroundofthemostseriouscases.
Itwasfilthywork.ThewordcholeracomesfromtheGreekwordkholera,meaningdiarrhoea.Thediarrhoeaofthecholerasicknesshasasingularlyvilesmell,andyounevergetusedtoit.Everytimeweenteredahuttovisitthesick,wefoughttheurgetovomit.Sometimes,wedidvomit.Andwhenwevomitedonce,theimpulsetoretchandgagwasstrongerthanever.
Karlawaskindandgentle,especiallywiththechildren,andshefilledthefamilieswithconfidence.Shekepthersenseofhumourthroughthesmell,andtheendlessstoopingtoliftandcleanandgivecomfortindark,humidhovels;throughthesicknessandthedying;andthroughthefear,whentheepidemicseemedtobegettingworse,thatwe,too,wouldsickenanddie.Throughfortyhourswithoutsleep,shesmiledeverytimeIturnedmyhungryeyesonher.Iwasinlovewithher,andevenifshe’dbeenlazyoracowardormiserlyorbadtemperedIwould’velovedherstill.Butshewasbraveandcompassionateandgenerous.Sheworkedhard,andshewasagoodfriend.Andsomehow,throughthosehoursoffearandsufferinganddeath,IfoundnewwaysandreasonstolikethewomanIalreadylovedwithallmyheart.
Atthreeaftermidnightonthesecondnight,Iinsistedthatshesleep,thatwebothsleep,beforeexhaustioncrushedus.Webegantowalkbackthroughthedark,desertedlanes.Therewasnomoon,andthestarspuncturedtheblackdomeoftheskywithadazzlingintensity.Inanunusuallywidespace,wherethreelanesconverged,IstoppedandraisedahandtosilenceKarla.Therewasafaintscratchingsound,awhisperandscrapeasoftaffetarustling,orcellophanebeingsqueezedintoaball.IntheblacknessIcouldn’ttellwherethesoundbegan,butIknewitwascloseandgettingcloser.IreachedaroundbehindmetograbKarla,andheldherpressedagainstmyback,turningleftandrightasItriedtoanticipatethesound.Andthentheycame-therats.
“Don’tmove!”Icautionedinahoarsewhisper,pullinghertomybackastightlyasIcould.“Keepperfectlystill!Ifyoudon’tmove,they’llthinkyou’repartofthefurniture.Ifyoumove,they’llbite!”
Theratscameinhundredsandthenthousands:blackwavesofrunning,squealingbeaststhatpouredfromthelanesandsweptagainstourlegsliketheswirlingtideofariver.Theywerehuge,biggerthancats,fatandslimyandrushingthroughthelanesinahordethatwastwoorthreeanimalsdeep.Theysweptpastusatankle-heightandthenshin-high,knee-high,runningononeanother’sbacksandslappingandsmackingintomylegswithbrutalforce.Beyondus,theyplungedonintothenighttowardthesewerpipesoftherichapartmenttowers,justastheydideverynightontheirmigrationfromnearbymarketsandthroughtheslum.Thousands.Theblackwavesofsnappingratsseemedtogoonfortenminutes,althoughitcouldn’thavebeensolong.Atlast,theyweregone.Thelaneswerepickedcleanofrubbishandscraps,andsilencecloggedtheair.
“What…thefuck…wasthat?”sheasked,hermouthgapingopen.
“Thedamnthingscomethroughhereeverynightaboutthistime.
Nobodyminds,becausetheykeeptheplaceclean,andtheydon’tworryyou,ifyou’reinsideyourhut,orasleeponthegroundoutside.Butifyougetintheirway,andyoupanic,theyjustgorightoverthetopofyou,andpickyouascleanasthelanes.”
“Igottahandittoyou,Lin,”shesaid,andhervoicewassteady,butfearwasstillwideinhereyes.“Yousureknowhowtoshowagirlagoodtime.”
Limpwithwearinessandreliefthatweweren’tbadlyhurt,weclungtooneanotherandstaggeredbacktotheclinic-hut.Ispreadoneblanketdownonthebareearth.Westretchedoutonit,proppedupagainstastackofotherblankets.Iheldherinmyarms.Asprinklingshowerofrainrappledonthecanvasawningoverhead.Somewhere,asleepercriedoutharshly,andthetense,meaninglesssoundswoopedfromdreamtodreamuntilitdisturbedansweringhowlsfromapackofwilddogsroamingtheedgeoftheslum.Tooexhaustedtosleepjustyet,andtinglingwithsexualtensioninthepressofourtiredbodieswelayawakeand,piecebypainfulpiece,Karlatoldmeherstory.
ShewasborninSwitzerland,inBasel,andshewasanonlychild.
HermotherwasSwiss-Italian,andherfatherwasSwedish.Theywereartists.Herfatherwasapainter,andhermotherwasasopranocoloratura.KarlaSaaranen’smemoriesofherearlychildhoodyearswerethehappiestofherlife.Thecreativeyoungcouplewaspopular,andtheirhousewasameetingplaceforpoets,musicians,actors,andotherartistsinthecosmopolitancity.Karlagrewupspeakingfourlanguagesfluently,andspentmanylonghourslearningherfavouriteariaswithhermother.Inherfather’sstudio,shewatchedhimmagictheblankcanvaseswithallthecoloursandshapesofhispassion.
Then,oneday,IschaSaaranenfailedtoreturnfromanexhibitionofhispaintingsinGermany.Atclosetomidnight,thelocalpolicetoldAnnaandKarlathathiscarhadlefttheroadduringasnowstorm.Hewasdead.Withinayear,themiserythatruinedAnnaSaaranen’sbeauty,andkilledherlovelyvoice,finallysmotheredherlifeaswell.Shetookanoverdoseofsleepingtablets.Karlawasalone.
Hermother’sbrotherhadsettledinAmerica,inSanFrancisco.
Theorphanedgirlwasonlytenwhenshestoodnexttothatstrangerathermother’sgraveandthentravelledwithhimtojoinhisfamily.MarioPacelliwasabig,generous-heartedbearofaman.HetreatedKarlawithaffectionatekindnessandsincererespect.Hewelcomedherintohisfamilyasanequalineverywaytohisownchildren.Hetoldheroftenthathelovedherandthathehopedshewouldgrowtolovehim,andtogivehimapartoftheloveforherdeadparentsthatheknewshekeptlockedwithinher.
Therewasnotimeforthatlovetogrow.Karla’suncleMariodiedinaclimbingaccident,threeyearsaftershearrivedinAmerica.
Mario’swidow,Penelope,tookcontrolofherlife.AuntPennywasjealousofthegirl’sbeautyandhercombative,intimidatingintelligence-qualitiesnotdiscernibleinherownthreechildren.ThemorebrightlyKarlashined,incomparisontotheotherchildren,themoreheraunthatedher.There’snomeannesstoospitefulortoocruel,Didieroncesaidtome,whenwehatesomeoneforallthewrongreasons.AuntPennydeprivedKarla,punishedherarbitrarily,chastisedandbelittledherconstantly,anddideverythingbutthrowthegirlintothestreet.
Forcedtoprovideherownmoneyforallherneeds,Karlaworkedafterschooleverynightatalocalrestaurant,andasababysitteronweekends.Oneofthefatherssheworkedforreturned,aloneandtooearly,onahotsummernight.He’dbeentoaparty,andhadbeendrinking.Hewasamanshe’dliked,ahandsomemanshe’dfoundherselffantasisingaboutfromtimetotime.Whenhecrossedtheroomtostandnearheronthatsultrysummernight,hisattentionflatteredher,despitethestinkofstalewineonhisbreathandtheglazedstareinhiseyes.Hetouchedhershoulder,andshesmiled.Itwasherlastsmileforaverylongtime.
No-onebutKarlacalleditrape.HesaidthatKarlahadledhimon,andKarla’saunttookhispart.Thefifteen-year-oldorphanfromSwitzerlandleftheraunt’shome,andnevercontactedheragain.ShemovedtoLosAngeles,whereshefoundajob,sharedanapartmentwithanothergirl,andbegantomakeherownway.Butaftertherape,Karlalostthepartoflovingthatgrowsintrust.Otherkindsofloveremainedinher-friendship,compassion,sexuality-butthelovethatbelievesandtrustsintheconstancyofanotherhumanheart,romanticlove,waslost
Sheworked,savedmoney,andwenttonightschool.Itwasherdreamtogainaplaceatauniversity-anyuniversity,anywhere-andstudyEnglishandGermanliterature.Buttoomuchinheryounglifehadbeenbroken,andtoomanylovedoneshaddied.Shecouldn’tcompleteanycourseofstudy.Shecouldn’tremaininanyjob.Shedrifted,andshebegantoteachherselfbyreadingeverythingthatgaveherhopeorstrength.
“Andthen?”
“Andthen,”shesaidslowly,“oneday,Ifoundmyselfonaplane,goingtoSingapore,andImetabusinessman,anIndianbusinessman,andmylife…just…changed,forever.”
Sheletoutasighinggaspofair.Icouldn’ttellifitwasdespairingorsimplyexhausted.
“I’mgladyoutoldme.”
“Toldyouwhat?”
Shewasfrowning,andhertonewassharp.
“About…yourlife,”Ianswered.
Sherelaxed.
“Don’tmentionit,”shesaid,allowingherselfalittlesmile.
“No,Imeanit.I’mglad,andI’mgrateful,thatyoutrustedmeenoughto…talkaboutyourself.”
“AndImeantit,too,”sheinsisted,stillsmiling.“Don’tmentionit-anyofit-toanyone.Okay?”
“Okay.”
Weweresilentforafewmoments.Ababywascryingsomewherenearby,andIcouldhearitsmothersoothingitwithalittlespoolofsyllablesthatweretenderandyetfaintlyannoyedatthesametime.
“WhydoyouhangoutatLeopold’s?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”sheaskedsleepily.
“Idon’tknow.Ijustwonder.”
Shelaughedwithhermouthclosed,breathingthroughhernose.
Herheadrestedonmyarm.Inthedarknessherfacewasasetofsoftcurves,andhereyesgleamedlikeblackpearls.
“Imean,DidierandModenaandUlla,evenLettieandVikram,theyallfitinthere,somehow.Butnotyou.Youdon’tfit.”
“Ithink…theyfitinwithme,evenifIdon’tfitinwiththem,”shesighed.
“TellmeaboutAhmed,”Iasked.“AhmedandChristina.”
Shewassilentforsolong,inresponsetothequestion,thatIthoughtshemust’vefallenasleep.Thenshespoke,quietlyandsteadilyandevenly,asifshewasgivingtestimonyatatrial.
“Ahmedwasafriend.Hewasmybestfriend,forawhile,andkindoflikethebrotherIneverhad.HecamefromAfghanistan,andwaswoundedinthewarthere.HecametoBombaytorecover-inaway,webothdid.Hiswoundsweresobadthatheneverreallydidgethishealthbackcompletely.Anyway,wekindofnursedeachother,Iguess,andwebecameveryclosefriends.Hewasasciencegraduate,fromKabulUniversity,andhespokeexcellentEnglish.
Weusedtotalkaboutbooksandphilosophyandmusicandartandfood.Hewasawonderful,gentleguy.”
“Andsomethinghappenedtohim,”Iprompted.
“Yeah,”shereplied,withalittlelaugh.“HemetChristina.
That’swhathappenedtohim.ShewasworkingforMadameZhou.ShewasanItaliangirl-verydarkandbeautiful.Ievenintroducedhimtoher,onenight,whenshecameintoLeopold’swithUlla.
TheywerebothworkingatthePalace.”
“UllaworkedatthePalace?”
“UllawasoneofthemostpopulargirlsMadameZhoueverhad.
ThensheleftthePalace.MauriziohadacontactattheGermanConsulate.HewantedtooilthewheelsonsomedealthathewasworkingonwiththeGerman,andhediscoveredthattheGermanwascrazyaboutUlla.Withsomeheavypersuasionfromtheconsulateofficer,andallhisownsavings,MauriziomanagedtobuyUllafreefromthePalace.MauriziogotUllatotwisttheconsulateguyuntilhedid…whateveritwasMauriziowantedhimtodo.
Thenhedumpedhim.Theguylostit,Iheard.Heputabulletinhishead.Bythen,MauriziohadputUllatowork,topaythedebtsheowedhim.”
“Youknow,I’vebeenworkingupahealthydislikeforMaurizio.”
“Itwasashittydeal,trueenough.ButatleastshewasfreefromMadameZhouandthePalace.IhavetogiveMauriziohisduethere-heproveditcouldbedone.Beforethat,nobodyevergotaway-notwithoutgettingacidthrowninherface.WhenUllabrokeawayfromMadameZhou,Christinawantedtobreakoutaswell.MadameZhouwasforcedtoletUllago,butshewasdamnedifshewasgoingtopartwithChristinaaswell.Ahmedwascrazyinlovewithher,andhewenttothePalace,lateonenight,tohaveitoutwithMadameZhou.Iwassupposedtogowithhim.IdidbusinesswithMadameZhou-Ibroughtbusinessmenthereformyboss,andtheyspentalotofmoney-youknowthat.Ithoughtshe’dlistentome.ButthenIgotcalledaway.Ihadajob…ajob…itwas…animportantcontact…Icouldn’trefuse.AhmedwenttothePalacealone.Theyfoundhisbody,andChristina’s,thenextday,inacar,afewblocksfromthePalace.Thecops…saidthattheybothtookpoison,likeRomeoandJuliet.”
“Youthinkshedidittothem,MadameZhou,andyoublameyourself,isthatit?”
“Somethinglikethat.”
“Isthatwhatshewastalkingabout,thatday,throughthemetalgrille,whenwegotLisaCarteroutofthere?Isthatwhyyouwerecrying?”
“Ifyoumustknow,”shesaidsoftly,hervoiceemptiedofallitsmusicandemotion,“shewastellingmewhatshedidtothem,beforeshehadthemkilled.Shewastellingmehowsheplayedwiththem,beforetheydied.”
Iclampedmyjawshut,listeningtotheruffleofairbreathinginandoutthroughmynose,untilourtwopatternsofbreathmatchedoneanotherinrhythmicriseandfall.
“Andwhataboutyou?”sheasked,atlast,hereyesclosingmoreslowlyandopeninglessoften.“We’vegotmystory.Whenareyougoingtotellmeyourstory?”
Ilettherainingsilenceclosehereyesforthelasttime.Sheslept.Iknewwedidn’thaveherstory.Notthewholeofit.Iknewthesmalldaubsofcolourshe’dexcludedfromhersummarywereatleastasimportantasthebroadstrokesshe’dincluded.
Thedevil,theysay,isinthedetails,andIknewwellthedevilsthatlurkedandskulkedinthedetailsofmyownstory.
Butshehadgivenmeahoardofnewtreasures.I’dlearnedmoreaboutherinthatexhausted,murmuringhourthaninallthemanymonthsbeforeit.Loversfindtheirwaybysuchinsightsandconfidences:they’rethestarsweusetonavigatetheoceanofdesire.Andthebrightestofthosestarsaretheheartbreaksandsorrows.Themostpreciousgiftyoucanbringtoyourloverisyoursuffering.SoItookeachsadnesssheconfessedtome,andpinnedittothesky.
Somewhereoutthereinthenight,Jeetendraweptforhiswife.
PrabakermoppedatParvati’ssweatingfacewithhisredscarf.
Heapedupontheblankets,ourbodiesboundbywearinessandherdeepslumber,surroundedbysicknessandhope,deathanddefiance,ItouchedthesoftsurrenderedcurlofKarla’ssleepingfingerstomylips,andIpledgedmyhearttoherforever.
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CHAPTERNINETEEN
Welostninepeopleinthecholeraepidemic.Sixofthemwereyoungchildren.Jeetendra’sonlyson,Satish,survived,buttwooftheboy’sclosestfriendsdied.BothofthemhadbeenenthusiasticstudentsinmyEnglishclass.Theprocessionofchildrenthatranwithusbehindthebierscarryingthoselittlebodies,garlandedwithflowers,wailedtheirgriefsopiteouslythatmanystrangersonthebusystreetspausedinprayer,andfeltthesuddenburnandstingoftears.Parvatisurvivedthesickness,andPrabakernursedherfortwoweeks,sleepingoutsideherhutunderaflapofplasticduringthenight.SitatookhersisterParvati’splaceattheirfather’schaishop;and,wheneverJohnnyCigarenteredorpassedtheshop,hereyesfollowedhimasslowlyandstealthilyasawalkingleopard’sshadow.
Karlastayedforsixdays,theworstofit,andvisitedseveraltimesintheweeksthatfollowed.Whentheinfectionratedroppedtozero,andthecrisishadpassedforthemostseriouscases,Itookathree-bucketshower,changedintocleanclothes,andheadedforthetouristbeatinsearchofbusiness.Iwasalmostbroke.Therainhadbeenheavy,andthefloodinginmanyareasofthecitywasashardonthetouts,dealers,guides,acrobats,pimps,beggars,andblackmarketeerswhomadetheirlivingonthestreetasitwasonthemanybusinessmenwhoseshopsweresubmerged.
CompetitioninColabaforthetouristdollarwascordial,butcreativelyemphatic.Yemenistreetvendorsheldupfalcon-cresteddaggersandhand-embroideredpassagesfromtheKoran.Tall,handsomeSomalisofferedbraceletsmadefrombeatensilvercoins.
ArtistsfromOrissadisplayedimagesoftheTajMahalpaintedondried,pressedpapayaleaves.Nigerianssoldcarved,ebonycaneswithstilettobladesconcealedwithintheirspiralshafts.
Iranianrefugeesweighedpolishedturquoisestonesbytheounceonbrassscaleshungfromthebranchesoftrees.DrumsellersfromUttarPradesh,carryingsixorsevendrumseach,burstintobrief,impromptuconcertsifatouristshowedthefaintestinterest.
ExilesfromAfghanistansoldhuge,ornamentalsilverringsengravedwiththePashtoscriptandencirclingamethyststhesizeofpigeons’eggs.
Threadingthroughthatcommercialtanglewerethosewhomadetheirlivingservicingthebusinessesandthestreettradersthemselves-incensewavers,bringingsilkendriftsoftempleincenseonsilvertrays,stovecleaners,mattressfluffers,earcleaners,footmassagers,ratcatchers,foodandchaicarriers,florists,laundry-men,watercarriers,gas-bottlemen,andmanyothers.Weavingtheirwaybetweenthemandthetradersandthetouristswerethedancers,singers,acrobats,musicians,fortunetellers,templeacolytes,fire-eaters,monkeymen,snakemen,bear-handlers,beggars,self-flagellators,andmanymorewholivedfromthecrowdedstreet,andreturnedtotheslumsatnight.
Everyoneofthembrokethelawinsomeway,eventually,inthequestforafasterbuck.Buttheswiftesttothesource,thesharpest-eyedofallthestreetpeople,werethoseofuswhobrokethelawprofessionally:theblackmarketeers.Thestreetacceptedmeinthatcomplexnetworkofschemesandscammersforseveralreasons.First,IonlyworkedthetouristswhoweretoocarefulortooparanoidtodealwithIndians;ifIdidn’ttakethem,no-onedid.Second,nomatterwhatthetouristswanted,IalwaystookthemtotheappropriateIndianbusinessman;Ineverdidthedealsmyself.And,third,Iwasn’tgreedy;mycommissionsalwaysaccordedwiththestandardsetbydecent,self-respectingcrooksthroughoutthecity.Imadesure,aswell,whenmycommissionswerelargeenough,toputmoneybackintotherestaurants,hotels,andbeggingbowlsofthearea.
Andtherewassomethingelse,somethingfarlesstangiblebutevenmoreimportant,perhaps,thancommissionsandturf-warsensitivities.Thefactthatawhiteforeigner-amanmostofthemtooktobeEuropean-hadsettledsoablyandcomfortablyinthemud,nearthebottomoftheirworld,wasprofoundlysatisfyingtothesensibilityoftheIndiansonthestreet.Inacuriousmixofprideandshame,mypresencelegitimisedtheircrimes.Whattheydid,fromdaytoday,couldn’tbesobadifagorajoinedthemindoingit.Andmyfallraisedthemupbecausetheywerenoworse,afterall,thanLinbaba,theeducatedforeignerwholivedbycrimeandworkedthestreetastheydid.
NorwasItheonlyforeignerwholivedfromtheblackmarket.
TherewereEuropeanandAmericandrugdealers,pimps,counterfeiters,conmen,gemtraders,andsmugglers.AmongthemweretwomenwhosharedthenameGeorge.OnewasCanadianandtheotherwasEnglish.Theywereinseparablefriendswho’dlivedonthestreetsforyears.No-oneseemedtoknowtheirsurnames.Tomakethedistinction,theywereknownbytheirstarsigns:ScorpioGeorgeandGeminiGeorge.TheZodiacGeorgeswerejunkieswho’dsoldtheirpassports,asthelastvaluablethingsthey’downed,andthenworkedtheherointravellers-touristswhocametoIndiatobinge-hitheroin,foraweekortwo,beforereturningtothesafetyoftheirowncountries.Thereweresurprisinglylargenumbersofthosetourists,andtheZodiacGeorgessurvivedfromtheirdealingswiththem.
ThecopswatchedmeandtheGeorgesandtheotherforeignerswhoworkedthestreets,andtheyknewexactlywhatweweredoing.
Theyreasoned,trulyenough,thatwecausednoviolentharm,andweweregoodforbusinessintheblackmarketthatbroughtthembribesandotherbenefits.Theytooktheircutfromthedrugandcurrencydealers.Theyleftusalone.Theyleftmealone.
Onthatfirstdayafterthecholeraepidemic,ImadeabouttwohundredU.S.dollarsinthreehours.Itwasn’talot,butIdecideditwasenough.Therainhadsqualledthroughthemorning,andbynoonitseemedtohavesettledintothekindofsultry,dozingdrizzlethatsometimeslastsfordays.Iwassittingonabarstool,anddrinkingafreshlysqueezedcanejuiceunderastripedawningnearthePresidentHotel,notfarfromtheslum,whenVikramraninoutoftherain.
“Hey,Lin!Howyoudoin’,man?Fuckthisfuckin’rain,yaar.”
Weshookhands,andIorderedhimacanejuice.Hetippedhisflat,blackFlamencohatontohisback,whereithungfromacordathisthroat.Hisblackshirtfeaturedwhiteembroideredfiguresdownthebutton-stripatthefront.Thewhitefigureswerewavinglassoesovertheirheads.HisbeltwasmadefromAmericansilverdollarcoinslinkedonetotheotherandfastenedwithadomedconchoasabeltbuckle.Theblackflamencopantswereembroideredwithfinewhitescrollsdowntheoutsideoftheleg,andendedinalineofthreesmallsilverbuttons.HisCubanheeledbootshadcrossoverloopsofleatherthatfastenedwithbucklesattheoutside.
“Notreallyridingweather,na?”“Oh,shit!”hespat.“YouheardaboutLettieandthehorse?
Jesus,man!Thatwasfuckin’weeksago,yaar.Ihaven’tseenyouintoofuckin’long.”
“How’sitgoingwithLettie?”
“Notgreat.”Hesighedashesaidit,yethissmilewashappy.
“ButIthinkshe’scomingaround,yaar.She’saveryspecialkindofchick.Sheneedstogetallthehatingdone,like,beforeshecankindofcruiseintothelovingpart.ButI’llgether,evenifthewholeworldsaysI’mcrazy.”
“Idon’tthinkyou’recrazytogoafterher.”
“Youdon’t?”
“No.She’salovelygirl.She’sagreatgirl.You’reaniceguy.
Andyou’remorealikethanpeoplethink.Youbothhaveasenseofhumour,andyoulovetolaugh.Shecan’tstandhypocrites,andneithercanyou.Andyou’reinterestedinlife,Ithink,inprettymuchthesameway.Ithinkyou’reagoodcouple,oratleastyouwillbe.AndIthinkyou’llgetherintheend,Vikram.
I’veseenthewayshelooksatyou,evenwhenshe’sputtingshitonyou.Shelikesyousomuchthatshehastoputyoudown.It’sherway.Juststickwithit,andyou’llwinherintheend.”
“Lin…listen,man.That’sit!Fuckit!I_likeyou.Imean,that’safuckin’coolrave,yaar.I’mgoingtobeyourfriendfromnowon.I’myourfuckin’bloodbrother,man.Ifyouneedanything,youcallonme.Isitadeal?”
“Sure,”Ismiled.“It’sadeal.”
Hefellsilent,staringoutattherain.Hiscurlyblackhairhadgrowntohiscollar,attheback,andwastrimmedatthefrontandsides.Hismoustachewasfastidiouslysnippedandtrimmedtolittlemorethanthethicknessthatafelt-tippedpenmight’vemade.Inprofile,hisfacewasimposing:thelongforeheadendedinahawk-likenoseanddescendedpastafirm,solemnmouthtoaprominent,confidentjaw.Whenheturnedtofacemeitwashiseyesthatdominated,however,andhiseyeswereyoung,curious,andshimmeringwithgoodhumour.
“Youknow,Lin,Ireallyloveher,”hesaidsoftly.Helethiseyesdriftdownwardtothepavementandthenhelookedupagainquickly.“IreallylovethatEnglishchick.”
“Youknow,Vikram,Ireallyloveit,”Isaid,mimickinghistoneofvoiceandtheearnestexpressiononhisface.“Ireallylovethatcowboyshirt.”
“What,_thisoldthing?”hecried,laughingwithme.“Fuck,man,youcanhaveit!”
Hejumpedoffthestoolandbegantounbuttonhisshirt.“No!No!Iwasonlyjoking!”
“What’sthat?Youmeanyoudon’tlikemyshirt?”
“Ididn’tsaythat.”
“So,what’swrongwithmyfuckin’shirt?”
“There’snothingwrongwithyourfuckin’shirt.Ijustdon’twantit.”
“Toolate,man!”hebellowed,pullinghisshirtfromhisbackandthrowingitatme.“Toofuckin’late!”
Heworeablacksingletundertheshirt,andtheblackhatwasstillhangingathisback.Thecanejuicecrusherhadaportablehi-fiathisstall.AnewsongfromahitHindimoviestartedup.
“Hey,Ilovethissong,yaar!”Vikramcriedout.“Turnitup,baba!_Arre,full_karo!”
Thejuice-wallahobliginglyturnedthevolumeuptothemaximum,andVikrambegantodanceandsingalongwiththewords.Showingsurprisinglyelegantandgracefulskill,heswungoutfromunderthecrowdedawninganddancedinthelightlyfallingrain.Withinoneminuteofhistwirling,swayingdancehe’dluredotheryoungmenfromthefootpath,andthereweresix,seven,andtheneightdancerslaughingintherainwhiletherestofusclapped,whooped,andhollered.
Turninghisstepstowardmeoncemore,Vikramreachedouttograspmywristwithbothofhishands,andthenbegantodragmeintothedance.Iprotestedandtriedtofighthimoff,butmanyhandsfromthestreetassistedhim,andIwaspushedintothegroupofdancers.IsurrenderedtoIndia,asIdideveryday,then,andasIstilldo,everydayofmylife,nomatterwhereIamintheworld.Idanced,followingVikram’ssteps,andthestreetcheereduson.
Thesongfinishedaftersomeminutes,andweturnedtoseeLettiestandingundertheawningandwatchinguswithopenamusement.
Vikramrantogreether,andIjoinedthem,shakingofftherain.
“Don’ttellme!Idon’twannaknow!”shesaid,smilingbutsilencingVikramwiththeraisedpalmofherhand.“Whateveryoudo,intheprivacyofyourownrainshower,isyourownbusiness.
Hello,Lin.Howareyou,darlin’?”
“Fine,Lettie.Wetenoughforyou?”
“Yourraindanceseemstobeworkingatreat.KarlawassupposedtojoinmeandVikram,rightaboutnow.We’regoingtothejazzconcertatMahim.Butshe’sfloodedin,attheTaj.Shejustcalledme,toletmeknow.ThewholeGateway’sflooded.Limousinesandtaxisarefloatin’aboutlikepaperboats,andtheguestscan’tgetout.
They’restrandedatthehotel,andourKarla’sstrandedthere,andall.”
Glancingaroundquickly,IsawthatPrabaker’scousinShantuwasstillsittinginhistaxi,parkedwithseveralothersoutsidetherestaurantswhereI’dseenhimearlier.Icheckedmywatch.Itwasthree-thirty.Iknewthatthelocalfishermenwouldallbebackonshorewiththeircatches.IturnedtoVikramandLettieoncemore.
“Sorry,guys,gottago!”IpushedtheshirtbackintoVikram’shands.“Thanksfortheshirt,man.I’llgrabitnexttime.Keepitforme!”
IjumpedintoShantu’staxi,twirlingthemetertotheonpositionthroughthepassengerwindow.LettieandVikramwavedaswespedpastthem.IexplainedmyplantoShantuonthewaytothekholisettlement,adjacenttoourslum.Hisdark,linedfacecreasedinaweatheredsmileandheshookhisheadinwonder,buthepushedthebatteredtaxialittlefasterthroughtheshortrideontherain-drenchedroad.
Atthefishermen’ssettlement,IenlistedthesupportofVinod,whowasapatientatmyclinicandoneofPrabaker’sclosefriends.Heselectedoneofhisshorterpunts,andweliftedthelight,flatboatontotheroofofthetaxiandspedbacktotheTajHotelarea,neartheRadioClubHotel.
Shantuworkedinhistaxisixteenhoursadayforsixdayseveryweek.Hewasdeterminedthathissonandtwodaughterswouldknowlivesthatwerebetterthanhisown.Hesavedmoneyfortheireducationandforthesubstantialdowrieshewouldberequiredtoprovideifthegirlsweretomarrywell.Hewaspermanentlyexhausted,andbesetbyallthetorments,terribleandtrivial,thatpovertyendures.Vinodsupportedhisparents,hiswife,andfivechildrenfromthefishthathehauledfromtheseawithhisthin,strongarms.Onhisowninitiative,he’dformedacooperativewithtwentyotherpoorfishermen.Thatpoolingofresourceshadprovidedameasureofsecurity,buthisincomeseldomstretchedtoluxuriessuchasnewsandals,orschoolbooks,orathirdmealinanyoneday.Still,whentheyknewwhatIwantedtodo,andwhy,neitherVinodnorShantuwouldacceptanymoneyfromme.Istruggledtogiveittothem,eventryingtoforcethemoneydownthefrontsoftheirshirts,buttheyrefusedtoallowit.Theywerepoor,tired,worriedmen,buttheywereIndian,andanyIndianmanwilltellyouthatalthoughlovemightnothavebeeninventedinIndia,itwascertainlyperfectedthere.Weputthelong,flatpuntdownintheshallowwaterofthefloodedroadneartheRadioClub,closetoAnand’sIndiaGuestHouse.Shantugavemetheoilskincapeheusedtokeephimselfdrywithwheneverthetaxibrokedown,andtheweatheredblackchauffeur’scapthatwashisgood-luckcharm.HewavedusoffasVinodandIstruckoutfortheTajMahalHotel.Wepoledourwayalongtheroadthatwasusuallybusywithtaxis,trucks,motorcycles,andprivatecars.Thewatergrewdeeperwitheverystrokeofthepolesuntil,atBestStreetcorner,wheretheTajMahalHotelcomplexbegan,itwasalreadywaistdeep.
TheTajhadexperiencedsuchfloodsinthesurroundingstreetsmanytimes.Thehotelwasbuiltuponatallplatformofbluestoneandgraniteblocks,withtenmarblestepsleadinguptoeachwideentrance.Thefloodwatersweredeepthatyear-theyreachedtothesecondstepfromthetop-andcarswerefloating,driftinghelplessly,andbumpingtogethernearthewallsurroundingthegreatarchoftheGatewayofIndiamonument.Westeeredtheboatdirectlytothestepsofthemainentrance.Thefoyeranddoorwayswerecrowdedwithpeople:richbusinessmen,watchingtheirlimousinesbubbleanddriftintotherain;womeninexpensivelocalandforeigndesignerdresses;actorsandpoliticians;andfashionablesonsanddaughters.
Karlasteppedforwardasifshe’dbeenexpectingme.Sheacceptedmyhand,andsteppedintothepunt.Ithrewthecapearoundhershouldersasshesatinthecentreoftheboat,andhandedherthecap.Sheslippeditonwitharaffishtiltofthecap’speak,andwesetoff.VinodsentusinalooptowardtheGatewayMonument.Asweentereditsmagnificent,vaultedchamber,hebegantosing.Themonumentproducedaspectacularacoustic.Hislovesongechoed,andrangthebellineveryheartthatheardhim.
VinodbroughtustothetaxistandattheRadioClubHotel.IreachedouttohelpKarlafromtheboat,butshejumpedtothefootpathbesideme,andweheldontooneanotherforamoment.
Hereyeswereadarkergreenbeneaththepeakofthecap.Herblackhairglistenedwithraindrops.Herbreathwassweetwithcinnamonandcarawayseed.
Wepulledapart,andIopenedthedoorofataxi.Shehandedmethecapandthecape,andtookaseatinthebackofthecab.Shehadn’tspokenasinglewordsinceI’darrivedwiththeboat.Thenshesimplyaddressedthedriver.
“Mahim,”shesaid.“Challo!”Mahimarea.Let’sgo!Shelookedatmeoncemoreasthetaxidrewawayfromthekerb.
Therewasacommandorademandinhereyes.Icouldn’tdecidewhatitwas.Iwatchedthecabspeedaway.VinodandShantuwatcheditwithme,andclappedtheirhandsonmyshoulders.WeliftedVinod’sboatbackontotheroofofthetaxi.AsItookmyseatbesideShantu,reachingoutwithmyleftarmtoholdthelongboatontheroof,Iglanceduptoseeafaceinthecrowd.
ItwasRajan,MadameZhou’seunuchservant.Hewasstaringatme.
Hisfacewasagargoylemaskofmalevolenceandhatred.
Thatfaceremainedwithmeallthewaybacktothekholisettlement,butwhenweunloadedtheboat,andShantuagreedtojoinVinodandmefordinner,IlettheimageofRajan’smalicemeltintomymemory.Iorderedfoodfromalocalrestaurantanditwasdeliveredtousthere,onthebeach,steaminghotinmetalcontainers.Wespreadthecontainersoutonanoldpieceofcanvassail,andsatbeneathawideplasticawningtoeat.
Vinod’sparents,wife,andfivechildrentooktheirplacesaroundtheedgeofthecanvassheetbesideShantuandme.Raincontinuedtofall,buttheairwaswarm,andafaintbreezefromthebayslowlystirredthehumidevening.Ourshelteronthesandybeachbesidethemanylongboatslookedouttotherollingsea.Weatechickenbyriani,malaikofta,vegetablekorma,rice,curriedvegetables,deepfriedpiecesofpumpkin,potato,onion,andcauliflower,hotbutterednaanbread,dhal,papadams,andgreenmangochutney.Itwasafeast,andthedelightthatspilledfromtheeyesofthechildren,whiletheyatetheirfill,putstarlightinoursmilesaswewatchedthem.
Whennightfell,IrodebacktoColaba’stouristbeatinacab.IwantedtotakearoomforafewhoursattheIndiaGuestHouse.Iwasn’tworriedabouttheC-Formatthehotel.IknewthatIwouldn’thavetosigntheregister,andAnandwouldn’tincludemeinhislistofguests.Thearrangementwe’dagreedonmonthsbefore-thesameonethatappliedtomostofthecheaperhotelsinthecity-allowedmetopayanhourlyrent,directlytohim,sothatIcouldusetheshowerorconductprivatebusinessinoneoftheroomsfromtimetotime.Iwantedtoshave.Iwantedtospendagoodhalfhourunderashower,usingtoomuchshampooandsoap.Iwantedtositinawhite-tiledbathroomwhereIcouldforgetthecholera,andscrapeandscrubthelastfewweeksoffmyskin.
“Oh,Lin!Sogladtoseeyou!”AnandmutteredthroughclenchedteethasIwalkedintothefoyer.Hiseyeswereglitteringwithtension,andhislong,handsomefacewasgrim.“Wehaveaproblemhere.Comequick!”
Heledmetoaroomoffthemaincorridor.AgirlansweredthedoorandspoketousinItalian.Shewasdistraughtanddishevelled.Herhairwasmessed,andmattedwithlintandwhatlookedlikefood.Herthinnightdresshungaskew,revealingthehand-spanofherribs.Shewasajunkie,andshewasstonedalmosttosleep,buttherewasanumb,somnolentpanicinherpleading.
Onthebedtherewasayoungmansprawledwithonelegoverthefootofthebed.Hewasnakedtothewaist,andhistrouserswereopenatthefront.Onebootwasdiscardedandtheotherwasstillonhisleftfoot.Hewasabouttwenty-eightyearsold.Hewasdead.
Nopulse.Noheartbeat.Nobreathing.Theoverdosehadthrownhisbodydownthelongblackwell,andhisfacewasasblueastheskyat5p.m.onthedarkestdayofwinter.Ihauledhisbodyupontothebed,andputarollofsheetbehindhisneck.
“Badbusiness,Lin,”Anandsaidtersely.Hestoodwithhisbacktothecloseddoor,preventinganyonefromentering.
Ignoringhim,Ibegancardio-pulmonaryresuscitationontheyoungman.Iknewthedrilltoowell.I’dpulledjunkiesoutofoverdoses,dozensofthem,whenIwasajunkiemyself.I’ddoneitfifty,eightytimesinmyowncountry,pressingandbreathinglifeintothelivingdead.Ipressedattheyoungman’sheart,willingittobeat,andbreathedhislungstotheircapacityforhim.Aftertenminutesoftheprocedurehestuttered,deepinhischest,andcoughed.Irestedonmyknees,watchingtoseeifhewasstrongenoughtobreatheonhisown.Thebreathingwasslow,andthenslower,andthenitstoppedinahollowsigh.Thesoundwasasflatandinsentientastheairescapingfromafissureinlayersofgeyserstone.IbegantheCPRagain.Itwasexhaustingwork,dragginghislimpbodybackupthewholelengthofthewellwithmyarmsandmylungs.
ThegirlwentundertwicewhileIworkedonherboyfriend.Anandslappedather,andshookherawake.ThreehoursafterIsteppedintothehotel,AnandandIlefttheroom.Wewerebothsoakedthroughwithsweat,ourshirtsaswetasifwe’dbeenstandingintherainthatdrummedandrattledbeyondthewindows.Thecouplewasawakeandsullenandangrywithus,despitethegirl’searlierpleaforhelp,becausewe’ddisturbedthepleasureoftheirstone.Iclosedthedooronthem,knowingthatsometimesoon,someoneelseinthatcity,orsomeother,wouldcloseadooronthemforever.Everytimejunkiesgodownthewelltheysinkalittledeeper,andit’sjustthatlittlebithardertodragthemoutagain.
Anandowedmeone.Ishoweredandshaved,andacceptedthegiftofafreshlywashedandironedshirt.Wesatinthefoyerthen,andsharedachai.Somemenlikeyoulessthemoretheyoweyou.
Somemenonlyreallybegintolikeyouwhentheyfindthemselvesinyourdebt.Anandwascomfortablewithhisobligation,andhishandshakewasthekindthatgoodfriendssometimesuseinplaceofawholeconversation.
WhenIsteppeddowntothestreet,ataxipulledintothekerbbesideme.Ullawasinthebackseat.
“Lin!Please,canyougetinforsometime?”
Worry,andwhatmight’vebeendread,pushedhervoicealmosttoawhine.Herlovely,palefacewastrappedinafearfulfrown.
Iclimbedinbesideher,andthetaxipulledoutslowlyfromthekerb.Thecabsmelledofherperfumeandthebeediecigarettesthatsheconstantlysmoked.
“Seedhajao!”shetoldthedriver._Gostraightahead!“Ihaveaproblem,Lin.Ineedsomehelp.”
Itwasmynighttobethewhiteknight.Ilookedintoherlargeblueeyes,andresistedtheimpulsetomakeajokeoraflirtatiousremark.Shewasafraid.Whateverhadscaredherstillpossessedhereyes.Shewaslookingatme,butshewasstillstaringatthefear.
“Oh,I’msorry,”shesobbed,breakingdownsuddenly,andthenpullingherselftogetherjustasswiftly.“Ididn’tevensayanyhellotoyou.Howareyou?Ihaven’tseenyouforalongtime.
Areyougoinggood?Youlookverygood.”
HerliltingGermanaccentgaveaflutteringmusictoherspeechthatpleasedmyear.Ismiledatherasthecolouredlightsstreamedacrosshereyes.
“I’mfine.What’stheproblem?”
“Ineedsomeonetogowithme,tobewithme,atoneo’clockaftermidnight.AtLeopold’s.I’llbethereand…andIneedyoutobetherewithme.Canyoudoit?Canyoubethere?”
“Leopold’sisshutatmidnight.”
“Yes,”shesaid,hervoicebreakingagainontheedgeoftears.
“ButI’llbethere,inataxi,parkedoutside.I’mmeetingsomeone,andIdon’twanttobealone.Canyoubetherewithme?”
“Whyme?WhataboutModena,orMaurizio?”
“Itrustyou,Lin.Itwon’ttakelong-themeeting.AndI’llpayyou.I’mnotaskingyoutohelpmefornothing.I’llpayyoufivehundreddollars,ifyou’lljustbetherewithme.Willyoudoit?”
Iheardawarning,deepwithin-weusuallydo,whensomethingworsethanwecanimagineisstalkingus,andsettopounce.
Fate’swayofbeatingusinafairfightistogiveuswarningsthatwehear,butneverheed.OfcourseIwouldhelpher.UllawasKarla’sfriend,andIwasinlovewithKarla.Iwouldhelpher,forKarla’ssake,evenifIdidn’tlikeher.AndIdidlikeUlla:shewasbeautiful,andshewasjustnaiveenough,justsanguineenoughtostopsympathyslippingintopity.Ismiledagain,andaskedthedrivertostop.
“Sure.Don’tworry.I’llbethere.”
Sheleanedacrossandgavemeakissonthecheek.Igotoutofthecab.Sheputherhandsonthewindow’sedge,andleanedout.
Mistyrainsettledonherlongeyelashes,forcinghertoblink.
“You’llbethere?Promise?”
“Onea.m.,”Isaidfirmly.“Leopold’s.I’llbethere.”
“Youpromise?”
“Yeah,”Ilaughed.“Ipromise.”
Thetaxipulledaway,andshecalledoutwithaplaintiveurgencythatseemedharshandalmosthystericalinthestillnessofthenight.
“Don’tletmedown,Lin!”
Iwalkedbacktowardthetouristbeat,aimlessly,thinkingaboutUllaandthebusiness,whateveritwas,thatherboyfriend,Modena,wasinvolvedinwithMaurizio.Didierhadtoldmetheyweresuccessful,theyweremakingmoney,butUllaseemedafraidandunhappy.AndtherewassomethingelsethatDidierhadsaid-somethingaboutdanger.Itriedtorememberthewordshe’dused.
Whatwerethey?Terriblerisk…greatviolence…
MymindwasstillshufflingthroughthosethoughtswhenIrealisedthatIwasinKarla’sstreet.Ipassedherground-floorapartment.ThewideFrenchdoors,leadingdirectlyfromthestreet,wereopen.Adesultorybreezeriffledthegauzecurtains,andIsawasoftyellowlight,acandle,glowingwithin.
Theraingrewheavier,butarestlessnessIcouldn’tfightorunderstandkeptmewalking.Vinod’slovesong,thesongthatrangbellsinthedomeoftheGatewayMonument,wasrunningonaloopinmymind.Mythoughtsfloatedbacktotheboatsailingonthesurreallakethatthemonsoonhadmadeofthestreet.ThelookinKarla’seyes-commanding,demanding-drovetherestlessnesstoakindoffuryinmyheart.Ihadtostop,sometimes,intherain,todrawdeepbreaths.Iwaschokingwithloveanddesire.Therewasangerinme,andpain.Myfistswereclenched.Themusclesofmyarmsandchestandbackweretightandtaut.IthoughtoftheItaliancouple,thejunkiesinAnand’shotel,andIthoughtofdeathanddying.Theblackandbroodingskyfinallyrupturedandcracked.
LightningrippedintotheArabianSea,andthunderfollowedwithdeafeningapplause.
Ibegantorun.Thetreesweredark,theirleaveswetthrough.
Theylookedlikesmallblackcloudsthemselves,thosetrees,eachonesheddingitsshowerofrain.Thestreetswereempty.Iranthroughpuddlesoffast-flowingwater,reflectingthelightningfracturedsky.AllthelonelinessandalltheloveIknewcollectedandcombinedinme,untilmyheartwasasswollenwithloveforherasthecloudsabovewereswollenwiththeirmassofrain.AndIran.Iran.And,somehow,Iwasbackinthatstreet,backatthedoorwaytoherhouse.AndthenIstoodthere,clawedbylightning,mychestheavingwithapassionthatwasstillrunninginmewhilemybodystoodstill.
Shecametotheopendoorstolookatthesky.Shewaswearingathin,white,sleevelessnightgown.Shesawmestandinginthestorm.Oureyesmet,andheld.Shecamethroughthedoors,downtwosteps,andwalkedtowardme.Thundershookthestreet,andlightningfilledhereyes.Shecameintomyarms.
Wekissed.Ourlipsmadethoughts,somehow,withoutwords:thekindofthoughtsthatfeelingshave.Ourtongueswrithed,andslitheredintheircavesofpleasure.Tonguesproclaimingwhatwewere.Human.Lovers.Lipsslidacrossthekiss,andIsubmergedherinlove,surrenderingandsubmerginginlovemyself.
Iliftedherinmyarmsandcarriedherintothehouse,intotheroomthatwasperfumedwithher.Weshedourclothesonthetiledfloor,andsheledmetoherbed.Welayclose,butnottouching.
Inthestorm-litdarkness,thebeadedsweatandraindropsonherarmwerelikesomanyglitteringstars,andherskinwaslikeaspanofnightsky.Ipressedmylipsagainstthesky,andlickedthestarsintomymouth.Shetookmybodyintohers,andeverymovementwasanincantation.Ourbreathingwaslikethewholeworldchantingprayers.Sweatraninrivuletstoravinesofpleasure.Everymovementwasasatinskincascade.Withinthevelvetcloaksoftenderness,ourbacksconvulsedinquiveringheat,pushingheat,pushingmusclestocompletewhatmindsbeginandbodiesalwayswin.Iwashers.Shewasmine.Mybodywasherchariot,andshedroveitintothesun.Herbodywasmyriver,andIbecamethesea.Andthewailingmoanthatdroveourlipstogether,attheend,wastheworldofhopeandsorrowthatecstasywringsfromloversasitfloodstheirsoulswithbliss.
Thestillandsoftlybreathingsilencethatsuffusedandsubmergedus,afterward,wasemptiedofneed,andwant,andhunger,andpain,andeverythingelseexceptthepure,ineffableexquisitenessoflove.
“Oh,shit!”
“What?”
“Oh,Jesus!Lookatthetime!”
“What?Whatisit?”
“I’vegottago,”Isaid,jumpingoutofthebedandreachingformywetclothes.“I’vegottomeetsomeone,atLeopold’s,andI’vegotfiveminutestogetthere.”
“Now?You’regoingnow?”
“Ihaveto.”
“Leopold’swillbeshut,”shefrowned,sittingupinthebedandleaningagainstalittlehillofpillows.
“Iknow,”Imuttered,pullingonmybootsandlacingthem.Myclothesandbootsweresoakingwet,butthenightwasstillhumidandwarm.Thestormwaseasing,andthebreezethathadstirredthelanguidairwasdying.Ikneltbesidethebed,andleanedacrosstokissthesoftskinofherthigh.“I’vegottago.Igavemyword.”
“Isitthatimportant?”
Atwitchofirritationcreasedmyforeheadwithafrown.IwasmomentarilyannoyedthatsheshouldpressthepointwhenI’dtoldherthatI’dgivenmyword:thatshould’vebeenenough.Butshewaslovelyinthatmoonlesslight,andshewasrighttobeannoyed,whileIwasn’t.
“I’msorry,”Iansweredsoftly,runningmyhandthroughherthick,blackhair.HowmanytimeshadIwantedtodothat,toreachoutandtouchher,whenwe’dstoodtogether?
“Goon,”shesaidquietly,watchingmewithawitch’sconcentration.“Go.”
IrantoArthurBunderRoadthroughthedesertedmarket.Whitecanvascoversonthemarketstallsgavethemtheappearanceofshroudedcadaversinthecool-roomofamorgue.Myfootstepsrunningmadescatteredechoes,asifghostswererunningwithme.
IcrossedArthurBunderRoadandenteredMereweatherRoad,runningalongthatboulevardoftreesandtallmansions,withnosightorsoundofthemillionpeoplewhopassedthereduringeachbusyday.
AtthefirstcrossroadIturnedlefttoavoidthefloodedstreets,andIsawacopridingabicycleahead.Iranoninthecentreoftheroad,andasecondbicyclecoppulledoutofadarkdrivewayasIpassed.WhenIwasexactlyhalfwayintothesidestreet,thefirstpolicejeepappearedattheendofthestreet.
Iheardthesecondjeepbehindmeandthenthecyclistsconverged.Thejeeppulledupbesideme,andIstopped.Fivemengotoutandsurroundedme.Therewassilenceforafewseconds.
Itwasasilenceofsuchdeliciousmenacethatthecopswerealmostdrunkwithit,andtheireyeswerelitwithriotinthesoftlyfallingrain.
“What’shappening?”Iasked,inMarathi.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Getinthejeep,”thecommandergrunted,inEnglish.
“Listen,IspeakMarathi,socan’twe-”Ibegan,butthecommandercutmeoffwithaharshlaugh.
“WeknowyouspeakMarathi,motherfucker,”heanswered,inMarathi.Theothercopslaughed.“Weknoweverything.Nowgetinthefuckingjeep,yousisterfucker,orwe’llbeatyouwiththelathis,andthenputyouin.”
Isteppedintothebackofthecoveredjeep,andtheysatmeonthefloor.Thereweresixmeninthebackofthejeep,andtheyallhadtheirhandsonme.
WedrovethetwoshortblockstotheColabapolicestation,acrosstheroadfromLeopold’s.Asweenteredthepolicecompound,InoticedthatthestreetinfrontofLeopold’swasdeserted.Ullawasn’tthere,whereshe’dsaidshewouldbe.Didshesetmeup?Iwondered,myheartthumpingwithdread.Thatmadenosense,butstillthethoughtbecameawormthatgnawedthroughallthewallsIputupinmymind.
Thenightdutyofficerwasasquat,overweightMaharashtrianwho,likemanyofhiscolleaguesinthepoliceforce,squeezedhimselfintoauniformthatwasatleasttwosizestoosmallforhim.Thethoughtoccurredtomethatthediscomfortitmust’vecausedmighthelptoexplainhisevildisposition.Therewascertainlynohumourinhimoranyofthetencopswhosurroundedme,andIfeltaperverseurgetolaughoutloudastheirscowling,heavybreathingsilencepersisted.Thenthedutyofficeraddressedhismen,andthelaughterinmedied.
“Takethismotherfuckerandbeathim,”hesaidmatter-of-factly.
IfheknewthatIspokeMarathi,andcouldunderstandhim,hegavenoindicationofit.HespoketohismenasifIwasn’tthere.“Beathimhard.Givehimasolidbeating.Don’tbreakanybones,ifyoucanhelpit,butbeathimhard,andthenthrowhimintothejailwiththeothers.”
Iran.Ipushedthroughthecircleofcops,clearedthelandingoutsidethedutyroominasingleleap,andhitthegravelyardofthecompound,running.Itwasastupidmistake,andnotthelastIwastomakeinthenextfewmonths.Mistakesarelikebadloves,Karlaoncesaid,themoreyoulearnfromthem,themoreyouwishthey’dneverhappened.Mymistakethatnighttookmetothefrontgateofthecompound,whereIcollidedwitharound-upparty,andcollapsedinatangleoftiedandhelplessmen.
Thecopsdraggedmebacktothedutyroom,punchingandkickingmealltheway.Theytiedmyhandsbehindmybackwithcoarse,hemprope,andremovedmybootsbeforetyingmyfeettogether.
Theshort,fatdutyofficerproducedathickcoilofrope,andorderedhismentobindmewithitfromanklestoshoulders.
Puffingandpantingwithhisrage,hewatchedasIwastrussedinsomanycoilsofropethatIresembledanEgyptianmummy.Thecopsthendraggedmetoanadjoiningroom,andhoistedmeuptohangmeatchestheightfromahook,facedown,withthehookjammedthroughseveralcoilsofropeatmyback.
“Aeroplane…”thedutyofficergrowled,throughclenchedteeth.
Thecopsspunmearoundfasterandfaster.Thehookheldmyboundhandsinthebunchedropes,andmyheadhungdown,levelwithmydroopingfeet.IwhirledandspununtilIlostmysenseofupordowninthetwirlingroom.Thenthebeatingsbegan.
Fiveorsixmenhitmyspinningbodyashardandasoftenastheycould,crackingtheircanelathisagainstmyskin.Thestingingblowsstruckwithpiercingpainthroughtheropes,andonmyface,arms,legs,andfeet.IcouldsensethatIwasbleeding.
Thescreamingroseupinme,butIclenchedmyjawsandgavethepainnosoundofmyown.Iwouldn’tletthemhaveit.Iwouldn’tletthemhearmescream.
Silenceisthetorturedman’srevenge.Handsreachedout,stoppingmybody,holdingitstill,whiletheroomcontinuedtowhirl.Thentheyspunmeintheoppositedirection,andthebeatingbeganagain.
Whentheirsportwasdone,theydraggedmeupthemetalstepstothelock-up-thesamemetalstepsI’dclimbedwithPrabakerwhenI’dtriedtohelpKano’sbear-handlers.Willsomeonecometohelp_me?Iaskedmyself.No-onehadseenmyarrestonthedesertedstreet,andno-oneknewwhereIwas.Ulla,ifshecametoLeopold’satall,ifshewasn’tactuallyinvolvedinmyarrest,wouldn’tknowthatI’dbeenarrested.AndKarla-whatcouldKarlathink,butthatI’dabandonedherafterwe’dmadelove?Shewouldn’tfindme.Prisonsystemsareblackholesforhumanbodies:nolightescapesfromthem,andnonews.Withthatmysteriousarrest,I’dvanishedintooneofthecity’sdarkestblackholes.I’ddisappearedfromthecityascompletelyasifI’dcaughtaplanetoAfrica.
AndwhywasIarrested?Thequestionsbuzzedandswarmedinmywhirlingmind.DidtheyknowwhoIreallywas?Iftheydidn’tknow-ifitwassomethingelse,ifithadnothingtodowithwhoIreallywas-therewouldstillbequestions,identificationprocedures,maybeevenfingerprintchecks.Myprintswereonfileallovertheworld,throughtheInterpolagency.Itwasonlyaquestionoftimebeforemyrealidentityemerged.Ihadtogetamessageoutto…someone.Whocouldhelpme?Whowaspowerfulenoughtohelpme?Khaderbhai.LordAbdelKhaderKhan.Withallofhiscontactsinthecity,especiallyintheColabaarea,hewouldsurelyfindoutthatI’dbeenarrested.Intime,Khaderbhaiwouldknow.Untilthen,Ihadtosittight,andtrytogetamessageouttohim.
Trussedupinthemummifyingropes,draggedupthehardmetalstairsonebruisingbumpatatime,Iforcedmythoughtstosettleonthatmantra,andIrepeatedittothethumpingbeatofmyheart:GetamessagetoKhaderbhai…GetamessagetoKhaderbhai…
Atthetoplandingofthestairs,theythrewmeintothelongprisoncorridor.Thedutyofficerorderedprisonerstoremovetheropesfrommybody.Hestoodinthegatewayofthelock-up,watchingthemwithhisfistsonhiships.Atonepoint,hekickedmetwo,threetimestoencouragethemtoworkfaster.Whenthelastoftheropeswasremovedandpassedthroughtotheguards,heorderedthemtoliftmeandstandmeup,facinghimattheopengate.Ifelttheirhandsnumblyonmydeadenedskin,andIopenedmyeyes,throughblood,toseehisgrimaceofasmile.
HespoketomeinMarathiandthenspatinmyface.Itriedtoraisemyarmtohitbackathim,buttheotherprisonersheldmefast.Theirhandsweregentle,butfirm.Theyhelpedmeintothearchwayofthefirstopencell-room,andeasedmetotheconcretefloor.Ilookeduptoseehisfaceasheshutthegate.Looselybutaccuratelytranslated,he’dsaidtome,You’refucked.Yourlifeisover.
Isawthesteelbarsofthegateswingshut,andfeltthecreepingcoldnessnumbmyheart.Metalslammedagainstmetal.Thekeysjangledandturnedinthelock.Ilookedintotheeyesofthemenaroundme,thedeadeyesandthefrenzied,theresentfuleyesandthefearing.Somewhere,deepinsideme,adrumbegantobeat.ItmightVebeenmyheart.Ifeltmybody,mywholebody,tenseandclenchasifitwasafist.Therewasataste,thickandbitter,atthebackofmymouth.IstruggledtoswallowitdownandthenIknew,Iremembered.Itwasthetasteofhatred-myhatred,theirs,theguards’,andtheworld’s.Prisonsarethetempleswheredevilslearntoprey.Everytimeweturnthekeywetwisttheknifeoffate,becauseeverytimewecageamanweclosehiminwithhate.
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CHAPTERTWENTY
Thefirstfloorofthelock-upatColabapolicestationhadfourbigcellroomsbeyondtheflexi-steelgate.Acorridorconnectedthefourrooms.Ononesidethecorridorgaveaccesstotherooms.Ontheothersideitlookedout,throughsteelmesh,ontothequadrangleofthepolicecompound.Thereweremorecellsbelow.Itwasinoneofthoseground-floorcellsthatKanothebearhadbeendetained.Transients,whospentonlyoneortwonightsincustody,wereheldonthegroundfloor.AnyonelikelytostayforaweekorlongerintheColabalock-upclimbedthestepsorwasdraggedupthem,asIwas,andpassedthroughtheslidingsteelgateintooneofhell’santechambers.
Therewerenodoorsbeyondthesteelgate.Eachofthefourroomswasaccessedthroughablankarchthatwasslightlywiderthantheaveragehousedoorway.Theroomswereroughlythreemetressquare.Thecorridorwasjustwideenoughfortwomentopasseachotherwiththeirshoulderstouching,anditwasaboutsixteenmetreslong.Attheendofthecorridortherewasaurinalandakeyhole-shapedsquatting-toilet,bothwithoutdoors.
Atap,providingwaterforwashinganddrinking,wasfixedabovetheurinal.
Thefourroomsandcorridormight’veheldfortymenwithanacceptablelevelofdiscomfort.WhenIwokeup,onmyfirstmorning,Idiscoveredthattherewere,infact,twohundredandfortyofus.Theplacewasahive,atermite’snest,awrithingmassofhumanbeings,pressingagainstoneanotherwitheverylittlemovementofanarmoraleg.Thetoiletwasankle-deepinshit.Theurinaloverflowed.Astinkingswampoozedoutofthemintothefarendofthecorridor.Thestill,thicklyhumidmonsoonairwascloggedwithmoaning,murmurings,talking,complaining,shouting,andthescreams,everyfewhours,ofmengoingmad.Iremainedthereforthreeweeks.Thefirstofthefourrooms,whereI’dsleptthefirstnight,heldonlyfifteenmen.Itwasfurthestfromthesickeningsmellofthetoilet.Itwasclean.Therewasspacetoliedown.Themenwholivedinthatroomwereallrich-richenoughtopaythecopstobeatupanyonewhotriedtosqueezeinwithoutaninvitation.
TheroomwasknownastheTajMahal,anditsresidentswereknownasthepandrahkumar,thefifteenprinces.
Thesecondroomheldtwenty-fivemen.Ilearnedthattheywereallcrooks:menwho’dservedhardtimeatleastoncebefore,andwerepreparedtofight,fastanddirty,topreserveaspaceforthemselves.Theirroomwasknownasthechormahal,theabodeofthieves,andthemenwereknownastheblackhats,thekalatopis–likeRanjit’slepers-becauseconvictedthievesattheinfamousArthurRoadPrisonwereforcedtowearablackhatwiththeirprisonuniform.
Thethirdroomhadfortymenwedgedintoit,sittingshouldertoshoulderaroundthewalls,andtakingturnstostretchoutinthelittlespaceleftinthecentreoftheroom.Theyweren’tashardasthemeninthesecondroom,buttheywereproudandwilling.
Theyclaimedthesmallsquaresofspacetheysatin,andthenstruggledtoholdthemagainstincursionsbynewcomers.Theywereconstantlyunderpressure:everyday,atleastoneofthemlostafightandlosthisplacetoanew,tougherman.Still,theoptimalnumberforthethirdroomwasfortymenand,sinceitrarelyroseabovethatlimit,itwasknownasthechaalissmahal,ortheabodeoftheforty.
Thefourthroomwasknowninthelock-upslangasthedukhmahal,ortheabodeofsuffering,butmanymenpreferredtousethenamethattheColabapolicehadgiventhelastcellintherow:thedetectionroom.Whenanewmanenteredthecorridorforthefirsttime,throughthesteelgate,hesometimestriedhisluckinthefirstroom.Everyoneofthefifteenmeninthatroom,andnotafewlackeysinthecorridor,wouldriseup,shovingandthreateninghimaway,shouting:Nextroom!Nextroom,bastard!
Drivenalongthecorridorbythewrithing,toilingpressofbodies,themanmighttrytoenterthesecondroom.Ifno-onethereknewhim,whoeverhappenedtobenearthedoorwouldgivehimaclip,asmackinthemouth.Nextroom,motherfucker!Iftheman,badlyrattledbythen,triedtoenterthethirdroomashewaspushedfurtheralongthecorridor,thetwoorthreemenwhosatorstoodinthedoorwayofthatroomwouldpunchandkickathim.Nextroom!Nextroom,sisterfucker!
Whenthenewmanfoundhimselfshovedallthewaytothefourthroom,thedetectionroom,hewouldbegreetedasanoldandverywelcomefriend.Comein,friend!Comein,brother!
Thosefoolishenoughtoenterwerebeatenandstrippednakedbythefiftyorsixtymenwhocrushedintothatblackandfoetidroom.Theirclothesweredistributedaccordingtoawaitinglistdeterminedbyapreciseandperpetuallyadjustedpeckingorder.
Theirbodycavitieswerethoroughlysearchedforjewellery,drugs,ormoney.Anyvaluableswenttothekingofthedetectionroom.Duringmyweeksthere,thekingofthelastroomwasahugegorillaofamanwithnoneck,andahairlinethatbeganlittlemorethanthethicknessofathumbabovehissingle,thickeyebrow.Thenewmenreceivedfilthyragstowear-theragsthathadbeendiscardedbythosewho’dreceivedtheirstolenclothes.
Theythenhadtwooptions:toleavetheroomandfendforthemselveswiththehundredmenwholivedintheimpossiblycrowdedcorridor,ortojointhedetection-roomgangandwaitforopportunitiestopreyonotherhaplessnewmeninthechainofmuggings.FromwhatIsawinthosethreeweeks,aboutonemanineveryfivewhowasbrutalisedanddispossessedinthatlastroomtookthesecondoption.
Eventhecorridorhaditspeckingorder,itsstrugglesoverafootholdofspace,anditsclaim-jumperswhochallengedthestrengthorbraveryofrivals.Placesnearthefrontgateandrelativelyfarfromthetoiletwereprized.Yetevenatthefoulendofthecorridor,whereshitandpissflowedontothefloorinarepulsive,reekingsludge,menfoughteachotherforaninchofspacethatwasslightlyshallowerinthemuck.
Afewofthosemenwhowereforcedtotheendofthecorridor,forcedtostandankle-deepinshitalldayandallnight,finallyfelldownanddied.Onemandiedinthelock-upwhileIwasthere,andseveralotherswerecarriedoutinastatesoclosetodeaththatI’dfounditimpossibletorousethemtoconsciousness.Otherssummonedtheragingmadnessrequiredtofighttheirway,minutebyminute,hourbyhour,metrebymetre,daybyday,andmanbyman,alongtheconcreteanaconda’sintestinetoaplacewheretheycouldstandandgoonliving,untilthebeastdisgorgedthemthroughthesamesteeljawsthathadswallowedtheirliveswhole.
Wereceivedonemealaday,atfourintheafternoon.Itwasdhalandroti,mostly,orricewithathincurrysauce.Therewasalsochaiandasliceofbreadintheearlymorning.Theprisonerstriedtoorganisethemselvesintotwoorderlylines,approachingandleavingthegatewherethecopsgaveoutfood.Butthecrushofbodies,andthedesperatehunger,andthegreedofafewcausedchaosateverymeal.Manymenmissedout.Somewenthungryforadayorlonger.
Weallreceivedaflataluminiumplatewhenweenteredthelockup.Theplatewasouronlylegalpossession.Therewasnocutlery–weatewithourhands-andtherewerenocups:chaiwasladledoutontotheplates,andwesuckeditoffthemwithourmouthspressedintothethinpoolofliquid.Buttheplateshadotheruses,firstamongwhichwasinthemanufactureofamakeshiftstove.IftwoaluminiumplateswerebentintoVshapesandusedasstands,athirdplatecouldrestontopofthem.Withafuelsourceburninginthespacebetweenthebent,invertedplatesandbeneaththeflatplate,astovewascreatedwhichcouldbeusedtoreheatteaorfood.Theidealfuelsourcewasaflatrubbersandal.Whenoneofthoserubbershoeswaslitatoneend,itburnedevenlyandslowlyallthewaytotheotherend.Thesmokegivenoffwasacridandthickwithagreasysootthatsettledoneverythingittouched.Thedetectionroom,wheretwosuchstovesburnedforsometimeeverynight,wasblackenedacrossitsfilthyfloorandwalls,aswerethefacesofallthemenwholivedthere.
Thestoveswereasourceofincomeforthekingpinsinthedetectionroom:theyusedthemtore-heatchaiandsavedfood,ataprice,fortherichmeninroomone.Theguardsalloweddeliveriesoffoodanddrink-forthosewhocouldaffordit-duringtheday,butnothingpassedthroughthegateatnight.Thefifteenprinces,unstintinginthepursuitoftheircomforts,hadbribedthecopstoprovideasmallsaucepan,andseveralplasticbottlesandcontainers,inwhichtostorechaiandfood.Inthatway,whendeliverieshadceasedeverynight,theprincesstillenjoyedhotchaiandsnacks.
Becausethealuminiumplatescouldonlybeusedasstovesforsolongbeforetheybecamebrittleandcollapsed,newplateswerealwaysindemand.Becausefoodandchaiandeventherubbersandalsusedasfuelcouldallbeturnedintomoney,theytoowerealwaysrequired.Theweakestmenlosttheirsandals,theirplates,andtheirfood.Thosewiththehearttohelpthem,bysharingtheuseoftheirplates,hadtoeatinscrambledgulps,andthenhandontheplatestobeusedagain.Asmanyasfourmenoftenateoffoneplate,inthatway,duringthesixorsevenminutesthatthecopsallowedforfoodtobedistributedatthesteelgate.
EverydayIlookedintotheeyesofstarvingmen.Isawthemwatchingothermenshovehotfoodtooquicklyintotheirmouthswiththeirfingerswhilecopsladledoutthelastofthemeals.Isawthem,everyday,watchingandwaitingandfearingthattheymightmissout.Thetruththatfilledtheireyeswassomethingweonlyeverknowaboutourselvesincruelanddesperatehunger.Itookitintomyself,thattruth,andthepartofmyheartthatbroketoseeithasneverhealed
Andeverynightinroomone,theTajMahal,thefifteenprincesateahotmealanddrankhot,sweettea,heateduponthemakeshiftstovesinthedetectionroom,beforestretchingouttosleep.
Eventheprinces,ofcourse,hadtousethetoilet.Theprocedurewasasvileanddehumanisingforthemasitwasforthepoorestprisoner;andinthat,ifinnothingelse,wewereallnearlyequal.Thelongjourneythroughthejungleoflimbsandbodiesinthecorridorendedinthestinkingswamp.There,therichmen,liketherestofus,packedtheirnostrilswithstripsofclothtornfromashirtorsinglet,andclampedalitbeediecigarettebetweentheirteethtofightthesmell.Withpantshitchedtotheirknees,andsandalsheldintheirhand,theythenwadedbarefootintothesewagetosquatoverthekeyholetoilet.Thetoiletwasunblocked,andfunctionedwellenough;butwithmorethantwohundredmenusingit,onceortwiceaday,everyday,itwassoonfouledbythosewhomissedthekeyholeinthefloor.
Eventually,thepilesofexcrementsliddownintothepoolsofurinethatflowedfromtheshallowurinal.Thatwasthefilthysludgethroughwhichwewadedonourwaytothetoilet.Wadingbacktotheurinal,therichmenthenwashedtheirhandsandfeetatthetap,withoutsoap,andsteppedonbundlesofragsthatwereheapedlikestepping-stonesandformedamakeshiftdambeforetheentrancetothedetectionroom.Forthepriceofacigarettebuttorahalf-smokedbeedie,mensquattinginthemuckwouldcleantheirfeetoncemorewithrags,andthentheycouldbeginthelongstrugglebackalongthecorridor.
ItwaspresumedthatIhadmoney,becauseIwasawhiteforeigner,sotherichmeninroomonehadinvitedmetojointhemwhenI’dwokenintheirroomonmyfirstmorning.Theideaappalledme.I’dbeenraisedinafamilyofFabiansocialists,andI’dinheritedtheirstubborn,impracticalrevulsionforsocialiniquityinallitsforms.Imbuedwiththeirprinciples,andbeingaproduct,asayoungman,ofarevolutionaryage,I’dbecomearevolutionarymyself.Someofthatcommitmentto_The_Cause,asmymotherhadcalledit,wasstillthereinthecoreofmybeing.Moreover,I’dbeenlivinginaslumformanymonthswiththecity’spoor.SoIrefusedtheoffer-reluctantlyImustadmit-toenjoythecomfortsoftherich.Instead,Imuscledmywayintothesecondroomwiththehardmenwho’dallservedtimeinprison.Therewasabriefscuffleatthedoorwaybut,whenitwasclearthatIwaspreparedtofightforaplaceintheabodeofthieves,theyshuffledthemselvesaround,andmaderoomforme.Still,therewassomeresentment.Theblackhats,likeselfrespectingcrookseverywhere,wereproudmen.Itwasn’tlongbeforetheymanufacturedanopportunitytotestmeout.
Ononeofthelong,squirmingtripsbackfromthetoilet,threedaysaftermyarrest,amaninthecrowdofprisonerstriedtowrestlemyplateawayfromme.Ishoutedawarning,inHindiandMarathi,makingthethreatasanatomicallyimpoliteasmyvocabularywouldallow.Itdidn’tstophim.ThemanwastallerthanIwas,andbiggerbysomethirtykilos.Hishandsgraspedtheplatenearmyown,andwebothpulled,butneitherofushadthegrossstrengthtowrestitaway.Allthemenfellsilent.
Theirbreathingwasatidalswirlofsoundandwarmairaroundus.Itwasafaceoff.Makeorbreak:Imademywayinthatworld,rightthereandthen,orIbrokedown,andletmyselfbeforcedintothefoetidswampattheendofthecorridor.
Usingtheman’sgripontheplateasleverage,Ismashedmyheadontothebridgeofhisnose,five,six,seventimes,andthenagainonthepointofhischinashetriedtopullaway.Alarmsurgedthroughthecrowd.Adozenpairsofhandsshovedatus,crushingourbodiesandfacestogether.Packedintothepressoffrightenedmen,unabletomovemyhands,andunwillingtoreleasetheplate,Ibitintohisface.MyteethpiercedhischeekuntilItastedhisbloodinmymouth.Hedroppedtheplateandscreamed.Thrashingwildly,hescrambledthroughthebodiesinthecorridortothesteelgate.Ifollowedhim,withmyhandreachingoutforhisback.Graspingthebars,heshookthegateandscreechedforhelp.Icaughthimjustasthewatchmanturnedhiskeysinthelock.Igrabbedathimasheescapedthroughthegate.HisT-shirtstretchedbehindhim,andforasecondhewasstuckthere,hislegsrunningbuthisbodyquitestill.ThentheT-shirtgaveway,andIwasleftwithachunkofitinmyhandasthemanstaggeredthroughtheopening.Hecoweredbehindthewatchman,hisbackpressedagainstthewall.Hisfacewasopenedatthecheekwheremyteethhadcuthim,andbloodstreamedfromhisnosedownhisthroattohischest.Thegateslammedshut.Thecopstared,smilinginscrutably,asIusedtheT-shirttowipethebloodfrommyhandsandtheplate.Satisfied,Ithrewtheshirtatthegate.Iturnedandsqueezedmywaythroughthesilentcrowd,takingmyplaceinthethieves’roomoncemore.
“Nicemove,brother,”theyoungmansittingbesidemesaidinEnglish.
“Notreally,”Ireplied.“Iwastryingforhisear.”
“Oooooh!”hewinced,pursinghislips.“Butprobablymoreofanourishmentinhisear,isn’tit,thanthefuckingfoodthey’regivingushere,man.Whatisyourcase?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Youdon’tknow?”
“Theypickedmeupatnightandbroughtmehere.Theyhaven’ttoldmewhatI’mchargedwith,orwhyI’mhere.”
Ididn’taskhimwhathewasinforbecausetheAustralianprisonprotocol,followedbycrooksoftheoldschool-crookswhoknowthereisaprotocol,andwhotaughtmeaboutit,whenI’dstartedmyjailsentencewiththem-dictatesthatyoudon’taskamanaboutthecrimeshemight’vecommitteduntilyoulikehimenoughtomakehimafriend,ordislikehimenoughtomakehimanenemy.
“Theygaveyouasolidpasting,man.”
“Theaeroplane,theycalledit.”
“Oooooh!”hewincedagain,hunchinghisshoulders.“Ihatethatfuckingaeroplane,brother!Theytiedmeupintheropessotight,once,thatittookthreedaysformyarmtogetthefeelingback.Andyouknowhowyourbodyswellsthefuckupinsidetheropes,whenthey’vebeenbeatingyouforawhile,na?
MynameisMahesh.Whatisyourgoodname?”
“TheycallmeLin.”
“Lin?”
“Yeah.”
“Interestingname,man.WheredidyoulearntospeakMarathi,likewhenyouwerecallingthatfellowamotherfucker,beforeyoustartedeatingonhisface?”
“Inavillage.”“Mustbesomesortoftoughvillage,thatone.”
Ismiledforthefirsttimesincethepolicehadpickedmeup.Inprison,amanrationshissmilesbecausepredatorymenseesmilingasaweakness,weakmenseeitasaninvitation,andprisonguardsseeitasaprovocationtosomenewtorment.
“Ilearnedtheswearinghere,inBombay,”Iexplained.“Howlongdopeopleusuallystayhere?”
Maheshsighed,andhisbroad,darkfacefoldedinwardinaresignedfrown.Hiswide-spacedbrowneyesweresodeep-setthattheyseemedtobehidingorseekingshelterbeneaththeridgeofhisscarredbrow.Hiswidenose,brokenmorethanonce,dominatedhisfaceandgavehimatougherlookthanhissmallmouthandroundedchinmight’vemanagedontheirown.
“Thatisnobodyknows,brother,”hereplied,thelightdimminginhiseyes.ItwasthesortofresponsePrabakermight’vemade,andIsuddenlymissedmylittlefriendinasecondoflonelinessthatspearedmyheart.“Icameheretwodaysbeforeyou.There’sarumourwewillbetakingatrucktotheRoad,intwoorthreeweeks.”
“Theroad?”
“ArthurRoadjail,man.”
“Ihavetogetamessageouttosomeone.”
“You’llhavetowaitforthat,Lin.Theguardshere,thecops,they’vebeentellingallofusherenottohelpyou.It’slikesomebodyputacurseonyou,mybrother.I’mprobablygoingtogetsomeshitonmyheadjustfortalkingtoyouonly,butwhatthefuck,yaar.”
“I’vegottogetamessageout,”Irepeated,mylipsbaredfrommyteeth.
“Well,noneoftheguysleavingherewillhelpyou,Lin.Theyareafraid,likemiceinabagfullofcobras.Butyou’llbeabletogetsomemessagesoutfromArthurRoad.It’safuckingbigjail,noproblem.Twelvethousandmeninside.Governmentsayslessthansomany,buteverybodyofus,weknowthereistwelvethousandsofmeninside.Butit’sstillalotbetterthanthis.IfyougototheRoad,you’llbewithme,inmaybethreeweeks.Mycaseisstealing.Stealingfromtheconstructions-copperwire,plasticpipes-threetimesinjail,already,forthesamethings.Thistimenumberfour.Whattosay,brother?Iamwhattheycallaserialoffensive,againstthepilferinglaw.Thistimeitisthreeyearsforme,iflucky,andfiveyears,ifnotlucky.IfyougotoArthurRoad,yougowithme.Thenwe’lltrytogetyourmessagesoutofthejail.Thikhain?
Untilthen,wesmoke,andpraytotheGod,andbiteanysisterfuckerswhotrytotakeourplates,na?”
Andforthreeweekswedidjustthat.Wesmokedtoomuch,andwetroubleddeafheavenwithourprayers,andwefoughtwithsomemen,andsometimeswecomfortedothermenwhowerelosingthewilltosmokeandprayandfight.Andonedaytheycametotakeourfingerprints,pressingtheblack,traitorousloopsandwhorlsontoapagethatpromisedtotellatruth,aviletruth,andnothingbutthattruth.AndthenMaheshandIwerecrushedwithothermenintoanancientblueprisontruck-eightymenintheblackwombofthetruck,wherethirtywould’vebeentoomany-anddriventowardArthurRoadPrisonatrecklessspeedsthroughthestreetsofthecitythatwealllovedtoomuch.
Insidethegatesoftheprison,guardsdraggedusoffthetailgateofthetruckandtoldustosquatontheground,whileotherguardsprocessedusandsignedusintotheprison,onebyone.Ittookfourhours,shufflingforwardandsquattingonourhaunches,andtheyleftmetilllast.TheguardshadbeentoldthatIunderstoodMarathi.Theirwatchcommandertestedtheassertion,whenIwasalonewiththem,byorderingmetostand.Istooduponpainfullystifflegs,andheorderedmetosquatagain.WhenIsquatteddown,heorderedmetostandagain.ThatmightVegoneonindefinitely,judgingbythehilarityitprovokedinthegalleryofsurroundingguards,butIrefusedtoplay.Hecontinuedtogivethecommands,butIignoredhim.Whenhestopped,westaredatoneanotheracrossthekindofsilenceI’veonlyeverknowninprisonsoronthebattlefield.It’sasilenceyoucanfeelonyourskin.It’sasilenceyoucansmell,andtaste,andevenhear,somehow,inadarkspaceatthebackofyourhead.Slowly,thecommander’ssinfulsmileretreatedintothesnarlofhatethathadspawnedit.Hespatonthegroundatmyfeet.
“Britishbuiltthisjail,inthetimeofRaj,”hehissedatme,showingteeth.“TheydidchainIndianmenhere,whipthemhere,hangthemhere,untildead.Now_werunthejail,andyouareaBritishprisoner.”
“Excuseme,sir,”Isaid,withthemostformalpolitenessthattheMarathilanguageoffers,“butIamnotBritish.IamfromNewZealand.”
“Youare_British!”hescreamed,sprayingmyfacewithhissaliva.
“I’mafraidnot.”
“Yes!YouareBritish!AllBritish!”hereplied,thesnarlmovingoutwardtoamalignantsmileoncemore.“YouareBritish,andwerunthejail.Yougothroughthatway!”
Hepointedtowardanarchwaythatledintotheprison’sinterior.
Therewasahardrightturn,justalittlewayintothearch,andIknew,thewayallanimalsknow,thatharmwaitedformethere.
Toencourageme,theguardsrammedtheirbatonsintomyback.Istumbledintothearch,andtooktherightturn.Sometwentymenwerewaitingforme,lineduponeithersideofthelongcorridorandarmedwithbamboosticks.
Iknewthegauntletwell-betterthananymanshould.There’dbeenanothertunnelofpain,inanothercountry:thepunishmentunitintheprisonI’descapedfrominAustralia.Thoseguardshadmadeusruntheirgauntletdownalongnarrowcorridor,leadingtothetinyexerciseyards.Andasweranthey’dswungtheirbatonsandkickedus,allthewaytothesteeldoorattheendoftheline.
Istoodintheharshelectriclightofthatnewtunnel,inBombay’sArthurRoadPrison,andIwantedtolaugh.Heyguys,Iwantedtosay,can’tyoubealittlemoreoriginal?ButIcouldn’tspeak.Feardriesaman’smouth,andhatestrangleshim.
That’swhyhatehasnogreatliterature:realfearandrealhatehavenowords.
Iwalkedslowlyforward.Themenweredressedinwhiteshirtsandshorts,withwhitecapsontheirheads,andwideblackleatherbeltsaroundtheirwaists.Thebrassbucklesonthosebeltscarriednumbersandatitle.ThetitlewasConvictOverseer.Theyweren’tprisonguards,Isoondiscovered.IntheIndianprisonsystem,inheritedfromthedaysoftheBritishRaj,theprisonguardshadverylittletodowiththeday-to-dayoperationoftheprison.Thoseeverydaytasksofmaintainingroutines,order,anddisciplinewerethepreserveofconvictoverseers.Convictedmurderersandotherlong-termserialoffendersreceivedsentencesoffifteenyearsormore.Duringthefirstfiveofthoseyearstheywerecommonprisoners.Duringthesecondfiveyearstheyearnedtheprivilegeofajobinthekitchen,laundry,prisonindustries,orclean-upgangs.Duringthethirdandfinalfiveyearstheyoftenacceptedthehat,leatherbelt,andbamboostickofaconvictoverseer.Then,thepoweroflifeanddeathwasintheirhands.Twolinesofthoseconvictedkillers,who’dbecomeguardsthemselves,awaitedmeinthetunnel.Theyraisedtheirsticksandfixedtheireyesonme,anticipatingachargingrunthatmightdeprivethemofthesportingchancetoinflictsomepain.Ididn’trun.IwishIcouldsay,now,thatIwalkedthatnightanddidn’trunbecauseofsomethingnobleandbravethatIfoundinsidemyself,butIcan’t.I’vethoughtaboutitoften.I’verecalledandrelivedthatwalkathousandtimes,andeachtimeIrememberit,there’slesscertaintyaboutthewhyofit.Everyvirtuousacthassomedarksecretinitsheart,Khaderbhaioncetoldme,andeveryriskwetakecontainsamysterythatcan’tbesolved.
Iwalkedtowardthemslowly,andIbegantothinkofthelongconcretepaththatleadsfromtheshoretotheshrineatHajiAli:themosquethatfloatslikeagreatmooredshiponthemoonlitsea.Thatviewofthemonumenttothereveredsaint,andthejourneybetweenthewavestothefloatingpavilions,wasoneofmybelovedimagesofthecity.Itsbeauty,forme,wasliketheangelthatamanseesinthesleepingfaceofthewomanheloves.Anditmight’vebeenjustthat,beautyalone,thatsavedme.Iwaswalkingintotheworstofthecity,oneofhercruellestandmostiniquitousdefiles,butsomeinstinctfloodedmymindwithalovelinessI’dfoundinher-thatpath,acrossthesea,tothewhiteminaretsofthesaint’stomb.
Thebamboostickswhippedandcracked,rippingandslashingatmyarmsandlegsandback.Someblowshitmyhead,myneck,andmyface.Swungwithmaximumforce,bystrongarmsagainstbareskin,theblowsfromthebamboostickswereacrossbetweenahotmetalburnandanelectricshock.Thesticksweresplitattheends.
Theyopenedrazor-thincutswherevertheylanded.Bloodbegantorunfrommyfaceandtheexposedskinonmyarms.
IwalkedonasslowlyandsteadilyasIcould.Iflinchedoftenwhenthestickssmackedintomyfaceoracrossmyear,butInevercringedorcoweredorraisedmyhands.Tokeepmyhandsatmysides,Iclutchedatthelegsofmyjeans.Andtheattack,whichhadbegunwithfrenziedviolence,dwindledtofewerblowsasIwalkedthegauntlet.ItceasedaltogetherwhenIreachedthelastmeninthelines.Itwasakindofvictory,seeingthosemenlowertheirsticksandtheireyesasIpassedthem.Theonlyvictorythatreallycountsinprison,anold-timerintheAustralianjailoncesaidtome,issurvival.Butsurvivalmeansmorethansimplybeingalive.It’snotjustthebodythatmustsurviveajailterm:thespiritandthewillandthehearthavetomakeitthroughaswell.Ifanyoneofthemisbrokenordestroyed,themanwhoselivingbodywalksthroughthegate,attheendofhissentence,can’tbesaidtohavesurvivedit.Andit’sforthosesmallvictoriesoftheheart,andthespirit,andthewillthatwesometimesriskthebodythatcradlesthem.
Theoverseersandseveralguardsbroughtmethroughtheprison,inthedarkeningevening,tooneofthemanydormitoryblocks.
Thelarge,high-ceilingedroomwastwenty-fivepaceslongandtenpaceswide.Therewerebarredwindowsthatgaveviewsofopenareasaroundthebuilding,andthereweretwotallsteelgates,oneateitherendoftheroom.Inabathroomnearoneentrance,therewerethreecleankeyholetoilets.Whentheguardslockedusinforthenight,therewereonehundredandeightyprisonersinthatroom,andtwentyconvictoverseers.
Onequarteroftheroomwasreservedfortheoverseers.Theyhadtheirownstackofcleanblankets.Theyarrangedthemwithfreespaceallaround,andinpileseightortenthicktoprovidesoftbeds.Therestofusweresqueezedintotwolinesintheremainingthree-quartersoftheroom,withano-man’slandofaboutfourpacesbetweenourpartoftheroomandtheareaclaimedbytheoverseers.
Eachofushadoneblanket,takenfromaneatlyfoldedstackatthecrowdedendoftheroom.Theblanketswerefoldeddowntheirlength,andplacedsidetosideonthestoneflooragainstthelongwalls.Welaydownonthenarrowblankets,withourshouldersrubbingagainstoneanother.Ourheadstouchedthesidewalls,andourfeetpointedintowardthecentreoftheroom.Thebrightlightsremainedonallnight.Theoverseersonnightwatchtookturnstowalkthelengthoftheroombetweentherowsoffeet.Theyallcarriedwhistlesonchainsaroundtheirnecks,whichtheyusedtosummontheguardsintheeventofanytroubletheycouldn’thandlethemselves.Isoonlearnedthattheywerereluctanttousethewhistle,andtherewasverylittletroublethatwasbeyondtheirpower.
Theoverseersgavemefiveminutestowashthedryingbloodoffmyfaceandneckandarms,andtousetheimmaculatelycleansquattoilet.WhenIreturnedtothemainroomtheyofferedmetheopportunitytosleepattheirendoftheroom.Theyassumed,nodoubt,thatmywhiteskinwasconnectedtoasupplyofmoney.
Andtheymayhaveallowedthemselves,insomesmallway,tobeinfluencedbythefactthatI’dwalkedtheirgauntletwithoutrunning.Whatevertheirreasons,Icouldn’tdoit-theyweretheverymenwho’dbeatenmeonlyminutesbefore,themenwho’dtransformedthemselvesintoprisonguards-andIrefusedtheiroffer.Itwasahugemistake.AsIwalkedtothefarendoftheroom,tookablanketfromthepile,andputitdownnexttoMahesh,theysneeredandlaughed.TheywerefuriousthatI’drejectedtherareoffertojointhem,andtheyconspired,ascowardswithpoweroftenwill,tobreakmyspirit.
InthenightIwokefrommonstrousdreamswithapiercingpaininmyback.Isatup,scratchingatmybacktofindaninsectaboutthesizeofasmallthumbtackattachedtomyskin.Iwrencheditloose,andputitonthestonefloortoexamineit.Thecreaturewasdarkgrey,fat,swollenalmosttoround,withamultitudeoflegs.Isquasheditwithmyhand.Bloodspurtedout.Itwasmyownblood.Thecreaturehadfeasteditselfonmeinmysleep.Atonce,afoulsmellfilledmynostrils.Itwasmyfirstencounterwiththeparasiteknownaskadmal,thescourgeofprisonersintheArthurRoadPrison.Nothingstoppedthem.Theybit,andsuckedblood,everynight.Thesmall,roundwoundstheymadesoonfesteredintopoison-filledpustules.Inanyonenighttherewerethreetofivebites;inaweek,thereweretwenty;and,inamonth,therewereahundredsuppurating,infectedsoresonaman’sbody.Andnothingstoppedthem.
Istaredatthestupidmessthatthesquashedkadmalmade,stunnedtoseehowmuchbloodthetinycreaturehadmanagedtodrainfromme.Suddenlytherewasastabbingpainatmyearasthenightwatchoverseerswunghisbamboolathiagainstmyhead.
Istartedupinanger,butMaheshstoppedme.Hishandslockedontomyarm,andhedraggedmedownwithallhisweight.
TheoverseerglaredatmeuntilIlaydownagain.Heresumedhispacingofthebrightlylitroom,andMaheshmouthedawarningtome.Ourfaceswereonlyahand’swidthapart.Allalongthetwolinesofsleepers,menwerejammedtogether,armsandlegsintertwinedinsleep.TheterrorthatspikedinMahesh’seyes,andthewhimperthatheclampedwithahandtohismouth,werethelastthingsthatIsawandheardonthatfirstnight.
“Nomatterwhattheydo,”hewhispered,“forthesakeofyourlife,don’tdoanythingtotheminreturn.Thisisnotalivingplace,Lin.Wearealldeadmenhere.Youcan’tdoanything!”
Iclosedmyeyes,andclosedmyheart,andwilledmyselftosleep.
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Theoverseerswokeusalittleafterdawn,beatinganymanunfortunateenoughtobeasleepwhentheyreachedhim.Iwasawakeandready,yetItooreceivedablowfromastick.Igrowledinangerandstartedupquickly,butMaheshstoppedmeonceagain.Wefoldedourblanketsaccordingtoaprecisepattern,andplacedtheminthepileatourendoftheroom.Theguardsopenedthelargesteelgatesfromtheoutside,andwefiledoutoftheroomtoassembleforthemorningwash.Therectangularbathingarea,somethinglikeanemptyabovegroundpooloradrystonepond,hadahugecast-irontankatoneend.
Asweapproached,aprisoneropenedavalveatthebaseofthetank,allowingasmalljetofwatertoescapefromapipethatprotrudedataboutshin-height.Hescamperedupasteelladderandsatontopofthetanktowatch.Menrushedforthepipe,andheldtheirflataluminiumplatesunderthethinstreamofwaterthatissuedfromit.Thecrushofmenatthetankwastendeepandtenwide:ahugeknotofmuscleandbone,strainingandstrugglingtoreachthepipe.
Iwaiteduntilthecrowdthinnedout,watchingthemenwashthemselveswiththelittlewateravailable.Afewmen,oneintwenty,hadpiecesofsoap,andattemptedtolatherthemselvesbeforereturningtothepipeformorewater.BythetimeIapproachedthepipe,thetankwasalmostempty.ThetrickleofwaterthatIcollectedinmyplatewaswrigglingwithhundredsofmaggot-likecreatures.Ithrusttheplateawayindisgust,andseveralmenaroundmelaughed.
“Waterworms,brother!”Maheshsaid,fillinghisplatewiththesquirming,thrashing,semi-transparentcreatures.Hetippedtheplateofwrigglingthingsoverhischestandback,andreachedouttofillanotherplate.“Theyliveinthetanks.Whenthewatergetslow,thewaterwormscomeoutofthetapsomany,brother!Butnoproblem.Theycan’thurtyou.Theydon’tbite,likethekadmal.Theyjustdropdownanddieinthecoldair,yousee?Theotherfellowsfighttogetwaterwithnotmanywormsinside.Butifwewait,wegetplentyofworms,butplentyofwateralso.Thisisbetter,yes?Comeon.Challo!
Youbettergrabsome,ifyouwantawashbeforetomorrowmorning.
Thisisit,brother.Wecan’tbewashinginthedormitory.Thatisaspecialfortheoverseersonly.Theyletyouwashtherelastnight,becauseyouhadalotofbloodonyou.Butyou’llneverusethatwashingplaceagain.Weusethetoiletinside,butwedon’twashthere.Thisisyouronlywashing,brother.”
Iheldtheplateundertheever-diminishingtrickleofwaterandthentippedtheseethingmassofwormsovermychestandback,asMaheshhaddone.LikealltheIndianmenIknew,Iworeapairofshorts-theover-underpants,Prabakerhadcalledtheminthevillage-undermyjeans.Idiscardedthejeans,andthenextplatefullofwrigglingbeastswentdownthefrontofmyshorts.
Bythetimetheoverseersbeganhittinguswiththeirstickstoherdusbackintothedormitory,Iwasascleanasitwaspossibletobewithoutsoap,andusingworm-infestedwater.
Inthedormitorywesquattedforanhourwhilewewaitedfortheguardstomakethemorninghead-count.Afteratime,thesquattingcausedusexcruciatingpaininourlegs.Wheneveranyonetriedtostretchorstraightenhislegs,however,oneofthepatrollingoverseersstruckhimaviciousblow.Ididn’tmoveintheline.Ididn’twantthemtohavethesatisfactionofseeingmegiveintothepain.ButasIclosedmyeyesinsweatingconcentration,oneofthemstruckmeanyway,withoutcauseorprovocation.Ibegantostand,andonceagainIfelttherestraininghandsofMaheshwarningmetobestill.Whenasecond,third,andthenafourthblowrippedintomyear,overthespaceoffifteenminutes,Isnapped.
“Comehere,youfuckin’coward!”Ishouted,standingandpointingatthelastmanwho’dstruckme.Theoverseer,ahugeandobeseman,knowntofriendandfoealikeasBigRahul,toweredovermostoftheothermenintheroom.“I’lltakethatfuckin’stickandjamitsofarupyourarseI’llbeabletoseeitinyoureyes!”
Silenceimplodedintheroom,swallowingeverysound.No-onemoved.BigRahulstared.Hisbroadexpression,aparodyofamusedcondescension,wasinfuriating.Slowly,theconvictoverseersbegantoconvergeinsupportofhim.“Comehere!”IshoutedinHindi.“Comeon,hero!Let’sgo!I’mready!”
SuddenlyMaheshandfiveorsixotherprisonersroseupallaroundmeandclungtomybody,tryingtoforcemedowntoasquattingposition.
“Please,Lin!”Maheshhissed.“Please,brother,please!Sitdownagain.Please.IknowwhatI’mtellingyou.Please.Please!”
Therewasamoment,whiletheypulledatmyarmsandshoulders,whenBigRahulandImadethekindofeyecontactwhereeachmanknowseverythingabouttheviolenceintheother.Hissuperciliousgrinfaded,andhiseyesflutteredtheirsignalofdefeat.Heknewit,andIknewit.Hewasafraidofme.Iallowedthementodragmedowntoasquattingposition.Heturnedonhisheel,andstruckoutreflexivelyatthenearestmancrouchingintheranks.Thetensionintheroomdissolved,andthehead-countresumed.
Breakfastconsistedofasingle,largechapatti.Wechewedthemandsippedwaterduringthefiveminutesallowed,andthentheoverseersmarchedusoutoftheroom.Wecrossedseveralimmaculatelycleancourtyards.Inabroadavenuebetweenfencedareas,theoverseersforcedustosquatinthemorningsunlightwhilewewaitedtohaveourheadsshaved.Thebarbers’woodenstoolswereintheshadeofatalltree.Everynewprisonerhadhishairclippedbyonebarber,andthenasecondbarbershavedhisheadwithastraightrazor.
Aswewerewaiting,weheardshoutscomingfromoneofthefencedcompoundsnearthebarbers’courtyard.Maheshnudgedme,noddinghisheadformetowatch.Tenconvictoverseersdraggedamanintothedesertedcompoundbeyondthewirefence.Therewereropesattachedtotheman’swristsandwaist.Moreropeswereattachedtothebucklesandringsofathickleathercollarfittedtightlyaroundtheman’sneck.Teamsofoverseerswereplayingtug-of-waronthewristropes.Themanwasverytallandstrong.Hisneckwasasthickasthebarrelofacannon,andhispowerfulchestandbackrippledwithmuscles.HewasAfrican.Irecognisedhim.ItwasHassaanObikwa’sdriver,Raheem,themanI’dhelpedescapefromthemobnearRegalCircle.
Wewatchedinatight,fast-breathingsilence.TheymanoeuvredRaheemtothecentreofthecompound,nearastoneblockaboutametrehighandametrewide.Hestruggledandresistedthem,butitwasuseless.Moreoverseersjoinedin,withmoreropes.
Raheem’slegswentoutfromunderhim.Threemenpulledoneachwrist-ropewithalltheirstrength.HisarmsweredrawnoutsohardfromhissidesthatIthoughttheymightbetornfromthesockets.Hislegsweresplayedoutatanexcruciatinglyunnaturalangle.Othermen,pullingontheropesthatpassedthroughtheleathercollar,draggedhisbodytowardthestoneblock.Usingtheropes,theoverseersstretchedhisleftarmout,withthehandandforearmrestingontheblock.
Raheemlaybesidetheblock,hisotherarmstretchedoutbyanotherteamofoverseers.OneoftheoverseersthenclimbedontotheblockandjumpedoffontoRaheem’sarm,withbothfeet,snappingthearmbackwardsinasickeningcrunchofgristleandbone.
Hecouldn’tscream,becausethecollarathisthroatwastootight,buthismouthopenedandclosedonthescreamthatwemadeforhiminourminds.Hislegsbegantotwitchandspasm.Aviolentshiverpassedthroughhiswholebody,endinginarapidshakingofhisheadthatwould’vebeenfunnyifitwasn’tsofrightening.Theoverseersdraggedhimarounduntilhisrightarmwasrestingontheblock.Thesamemanclimbedthestone,talkingallthewhiletooneofhisfriends,pullingtensiononarope.
Afterapause,heblewhisnosewithhisfingers,scratchedhimself,andjumpedontotherightarm,snappingitbackwards.
Raheemlostconsciousness.Theconvictoverseersloopedtheirropesaroundhisanklesandthendraggedhisbodyoutofthecompound.Hisarmsfloppedandflappedbehindhisbody,aslimpandlifelessaslongblacksocksfilledwithsand.
“Yousee?”Maheshwhispered.
“Whatwasthatallabout?”
“Hehitoneoftheoverseers,”Maheshansweredinaterrifiedwhisper.“That’swhyIstoppedyou.That’swhattheycando.”
Anothermanleanedclosetous,speakingquickly.
“Andhere,thereisnoguaranteeofdoctor,”hebreathed.“Maybeyouseedoctor,maybeno.Maybethatblackfellowwilllive,maybenotlive.Nogoodlucktohitoverseer,baba.”
BigRahulwalkedtowardus,restingthebamboostickonhisshoulder.Hepausedbesideme,andbroughtthestickdownwithalazysmackacrossmyback.Hislaughterashewalkedawaydownthelineofwaitingmenwasbrutallyloud,butitwasalsoweakandfalse,anditdidn’tfoolme.I’dheardthatlaughbefore,inanotherprisonacrosstheworld.Iknewitwell.Crueltyisakindofcowardice.Cruellaughteristhewaycowardscrywhenthey’renotalone,andcausingpainishowtheygrieve.Squattinginthequeue,Inoticedwitharevulsiveflinchthattinyinsects,lice,werecrawlinginthehairofthemaninfrontofme.I’dbeenfeelingitchysinceI’dwoken.Untilthatmoment,I’dputitdowntothebitesofthekadmal,theroughblanketI’dslepton,andthemanycutsI’dsustainedinwalkingthegauntlet.Ilookedatthenextman’shair.It,too,wascrawlingwithwrithing,whitelice.Iknewwhatthatitchinesswas,onmybodyandinmyhair.IturnedtolookatMahesh.Hishairwasalivewithlice.Iruffledmyownhairontothepalmofmyhand,andtheretheywere-whiteandcrab-like,andtoomanytocountataglance.
Bodylice.Theblanketsthey’dforcedustouseassleepingmatswereinfestedwiththem.Suddenly,theitchinessIfeltwasacrawlinghorror,andIknewthatthefilthypestswereallovermybody.Whenmyheadwasshaved,andwemadeourwaybacktothedormitory,Maheshexplainedaboutthebodylice,knownassheppesh.
“Sheppesharefuckin’horrible,brother.Thelittlefucksareeverywhere.That’swhytheoverseershavetheirownblankets,andsleepattheirownendoftheroom.Nosheppeshthere.Comeon,watchme,Lin,andIwillshowyouwhatitisyoumustbedoing.”
HetookoffhisT-shirt,andpulleditinsideout.Holdingtheribbedseamattheneck,hepriseditapartandrevealedthesheppeshcrawlinginthecreaseattheseam.
“They’refuckin’hardtosee,brother,butyoudon’thaveanytroublefeelingthem,crawlingonyou,yaar?Don’tworry.They’reeasyenoughtokill.Youjustsqueezethelittlefucksbetweenyourthumbnails,likethis.”
IwatchedhimasheworkedhiswayaroundtheneckofhisT-shirt,killingthebodyliceonebyone.Hemovedontotheseamsatthesleeves,then,andfinallytothehematthebottomoftheshirt.Therewerescoresofthelice,andhesquashedeachoneexpertlybetweenhisthumbnails.
“Nowthisshirtisclean,”hesaid,foldingitcarefully,awayfromhisbody,andplacingitonthebarestonefloor.“Nomoresheppesh.Nextyouwrapatowelaroundyourself,likethis,thentakeoffyourpants,andyoukillallthesheppeshonyourpants.
Whenclean,putyourpantswithyourshirt.Thenyourbody-yourarmsunderneath,yourarse,yourballs.Andwhenyourclothestheyareclean,andyourbodyitisclean,yougetdressedagain.
Andyou’llbeokay,notsomanysheppesh,untilthenight.Andthenyou’llgettoomanynewsheppeshonyoufromtheblanket.
Andnochanceforsleepingwithoutblanket,becausetheoverseerswillgiveyouasolidpastingifyoutry.Youcan’tavoidit.Andthentomorrow,youstartthewholebusinessagain.Thisiswhatwecallsheppeshfarming,andwearefarmerseverydayatArthurRoad.”
Ilookedaroundtheopen,rain-drenchedcourtyardbesidethelongdormitory,andahundredmenwerebusyfarming,pickingthelicefromtheirclothesandkillingthemmethodically.Somemendidn’tcare.Theyscratchedandshiveredlikedogs,andallowedthelicetobreedonthem.Forme,theitchy,crawlingviolationofthebodylicewasafrenzyonthesurfaceofmyskin.Irippedmyshirtoffandexaminedtheseamatthecollar.Theshirtwasalivewiththem,squirming,burrowing,andbreeding.Ibegantokillthem,onebyone,seambyseam.Itwastheworkofseveralhours,andIpractiseditwithfanaticalassiduity,everymorningthatIspentinArthurRoadPrison,butIneverfeltcleanthere.
EvenwhenIknewthatI’dkilledthelice,andridmyselfofthemtemporarily,Istillfelttheirwriggling,itching,crawlingloathsomenessonmyskin.Andlittlebylittle,monthbymonth,thehorrorofthatcreepinginfestationpushedmetotheedge.
Forthewholeofeachday,betweentheearly-morninghead-countandtheeveningmeal,wemovedaboutwithinalargecourtyardthatwasattachedtoourdormitoryroom.Somemenplayedcardsorothergames.Sometalkedwithfriends,ortriedtosleeponthestonepaths.Notafewmen,shufflinguncertainlyonthin,totteringlegs,talkedatwitchingmadnesstothemselves,andstumbledintothewallsuntilweturnedthemgentlyandsetthemonanewcourse.
Lunch,atArthurRoad,consistedofawaterysoupladledoutontoourflataluminiumplates.Theeveningmeal,servedatfourthirtywiththeadditionofasinglechapatti,wasarepetitionofthatsoupoftheday.Itwasmadewiththepeelingsanddiscardedendsofvariousvegetables-peelingsfrombeetrootononeday,fromcarrotsthenext,frompumpkinsonthethirdday,andsoon.Theeyesandbruises,cutfrompotatoes,wereused,aswerethehardendsofcourgettes,thepaperyouterskinsofonions,andthemuddyscrapingsfromturnips.Weneversawpiecesofthevegetables-thosewenttotheguardsandtheconvictoverseers.Inoursoup,thescrapsofpeelingsorstalkyendsfloatedinacolourless,wateryliquid.Thelargevatthattheoverseerswheeledintoourcompoundforeverymealbroughtonehundredandfiftyladledservingsfromthekitchens.Therewereonehundredandeightymenintheroom.Toremedythedeficiency,theoverseerspouredtwobucketsofcoldwaterintothevat.Theydidthatateverymeal,witharitualhead-countandapantomimedisplayofinspirationastheysolvedtheproblembyaddingthebucketsofwater.Itneverfailedtorousethemtoraucouslaughter.
Atsixo’clock,aftertheeveningmeal,theguardscountedusoncemore,andlockedusinthelongdormitoryroom.Fortwohours,then,wewerepermittedtotalk,andtosmokecharras,purchasedfromtheoverseers.InmatesatArthurRoadPrisonreceivedfiverationtickets,calledcoupons,permonth.Menwithaccesstomoneycouldalsopurchasecoupons.Somemenheldrollswithseveralhundredcouponsinthem.Theyusedthemtobuytea-twocouponsboughtacupofhottea-bread,sugar,jam,hotfood,soap,shavingaccessories,cigarettes,andtheservicesofmenwhowashedclothesordidotheroddjobs.Theywerealsotheblack-marketcurrencyintheprison.Forsixcoupons,amancouldbuyatinygoli,oraball,ofcharras.Forfiftyhecouldbuyashotofpenicillin.Afewdealersalsotradedinheroin,forsixtycouponsafix,buttheoverseerswereruthlessintheirattemptstoexterminateit.Heroinaddictionwasoneofthefewforcesstrongenoughtoovercometerrorandchallengethetorturers’authority.Mostmen,saneenoughtofeartheoverseers’almostlimitlesspower,satisfiedthemselveswiththesemi-legalcharras,andtheperfumeofhashishoftendriftedthroughtheroom.
Everynightthemengatheredingroupstosing.Sittingincirclesoftwelveormoremen,andtappingontheirupturnedaluminiumplatesasiftheyweretabladrums,theprisonerssanglovesongsfromtheirfavouritemovies.Theysangofheartbreak,andallthesorrowsofloss.Aparticularlybelovedsongmightstartinonecircle,betakenupbyasecondgroupforthenextverses,andthenmovetoathirdgroupandafourthbeforeworkingitswaybacktothefirst.Aroundeachcircleoftwelveorfifteensingersweretwentyorthirtymoremenwhoprovidedthechorusofclappinghandsandsupportingvoices.Theycriedopenlyastheysang,andtheylaughedtogetheroften.Andwiththeirmusictheyhelpedoneanothertokeeplovealiveinheartsthatthecityhadforsaken,andforgotten.
AttheendofthesecondweekatArthurRoad,Imetwithtwoyoungmenwhoweredueforreleasewithinthehour.Maheshassuredmethattheywouldcarryamessageforme.Theyweresimple,illiteratevillageboyswho’dvisitedBombayandhadfoundthemselvescaughtintheround-upofunemployedyouths.AfterthreemonthsinArthurRoadwithoutanyformalcharge,theywerefinallybeingreleased.OnapieceofpaperIwrotethenameandaddressofAbdelKhaderKhan,andashortnoteinforminghimthatIwasinprison.IgaveittothemenandpromisedtorewardthemwhenIwasreleased.Theyjoinedtheirhandstogetherinablessingandthenleftme,theirsmilesbrightandhopeful.
Laterthatdaytheoverseerscalledourdormitorytogetherwithmorethanusualviolence,andforcedustosquatincloseranks.
Aswewatched,thetwoyoungmenwho’dtriedtohelpmeweredraggedintotheroomanddumpedagainstawall.Theywereonlysemi-conscious.They’dbeenbeatenviciously.Bloodweptfromwoundsontheirfaces.Theirmouthswereswollenandtheireyeswereblackened.Asnakeskinpatternoflathibruisescoveredtheirbarearmsandlegs.
“Thesedogstriedtotakeamessageoutofthejailforthegora,”BigRahultheoverseerroaredatusinHindi.“Anyonewhotriestohelpthegora,willgetthesame.Understand?Nowthesetwodogshavesixmoremonthsinjail,inmyroom!Sixmonths!
Helphim,anyofyou,andyouwillgetthesame.”
Theoverseerslefttheroomtoshareacigarette,andwerushedforwardtohelpthemen.Iwashedtheirwounds,anddressedtheworstofthemwithstripsofcloth.Maheshhelpedme,andwhenwefinishedthejobhetookmeoutsidetosmokeabeedie.
“It’snotyourfault,Lin,”hesaid,lookingoutattheyard,wheremenwalkedorsatorpickedlicefromtheirclothes.
“Ofcourseit’smyfault.”
“No,man,”hesaidcompassionately.“It’sthisplace,thisArthurRoad.Thatbusiness,thathappenseveryday.It’snotyourfault,brother,andit’snotmine.Butnow,itisarealproblemforyou.Nobodywillbehelpingyounow-justlikeinthelock-upatColaba.Idon’tknowhowlongyouwillstayhere.YouseeoldPandu,overthere?Heisinthisroomthreeyearsnow,andstillnotanycourtactionforhim.Ajayismorethanoneyearhere.
Santoshistwoyearsinthisroom,fornocharge,andhedoesn’tknowwhenhewillgotocourt.I…Idon’tknowhowlongyouwillbeinthisroom.And,sorry,brother,nobodywillhelpyounow.”
Theweekspassed,andMaheshwasright-no-oneriskedtheangeroftheoverseerstohelpme.Menwerereleasedfromtheroomeveryweek,andIapproachedasmanyofthemasIcould,andascarefullyaspossible,butnonewouldhelp.Mysituationwasbecomingdesperate.Aftertwomonthsattheprison,IguessedthatI’dlostabouttwelvekilos.Ilookedthin.Mybodywascoveredinthesmall,suppuratingsorescausedbythebitesofthenocturnalkadmal.
Therewerebruisescausedbyblowsfromoverseers’canesonmyarms,legs,back,face,andbald,shavedhead.Andallthetime,everyminuteofeverydayandnight,IworriedthatthereportonmyfingerprintswouldrevealwhoIreallywas.Almosteverynighttheworryworkedmeintoasweatingnightmareoftheten-yearsentenceI’descapedfrominAustralia.Thatworrysettledinmychest,squeezingmyheartandoftenswellingtosuchagrotesqueanguishthatIfeltmyselfchoking,suffocatingonit.Guiltisthehiltoftheknifethatweuseonourselves,andloveisoftentheblade;butit’sworrythatkeepstheknifesharp,andworrythatgetsmostofus,intheend.
Thefrustration,dread,worry,andpainfinallypeakedwhenBigRahul,theoverseerwho’dfoundinmeafocusforthehatredandwretchednesshe’dsufferedinhistwelveyearsattheprison,hitmeonetimetoooften.Iwassittingneartheentrancetotheemptydormitory,andattemptingtowritedownashortstorythathademergedanddevelopedinmymindoverthelastweeks.I’dbeenrepeatingthephrasesofthestorylinebylineanddayafterdayasI’dcreatedthem.Itwasoneofthemeditationsthatkeptmesane.WhenImanaged,thatmorning,toscroungeastubofpencilandasmallsheafofdiscardedsugar-rationwrappers,Ifeltreadyatlasttowritedownthelinesofthefirstpage.Inaquietmoment,afterfarmingforsheppesh,Ibegantowrite.
Withallthestealththatmalicemanufactures,eveninthegrossandclumsy,Rahulcreptupbehindmeandbroughthislathidownonmyleftupperarmwithbone-rattlingforce.Hispunishmentstickwassplitattheend,andtheblowrippedtheskinofmyarmopenalongthelengthofthemuscle,almostfromtheshouldertotheelbow.BlooderuptedfromthedeepcutandspilledoverthefingersthatIclampedonthewound.
Springingtomyfeetinred-visionrage,IreachedoutquicklyandsnatchedthestickfromRahul’sstartledhand.Advancingtowardshim,Iforcedhimbackwardsseveralpacesintotheemptyroom.Therewasabarredwindowbesideme.Ithrewthestickthroughthebars.Rahul’seyesbulgedwithfearandastonishment.
Itwasthelastthinghe’dexpected.Hefumbledathischestforhiswhistle.Ikickedoutinatwisting,flyingfrontkick.Hehadn’texpectedthat,either.Theballofmyfootstruckhiminthefacebetweenthenoseandthemouth.Hetookseveralstumbling,backwardsteps.Rulenumberoneofstreetfighting:standyourgroundandneverwalkbackwards,unlessyou’repreparingacounter-strike.Ifollowedhim,pushinghimontothebackfootandhittinghimwithaflurryofjabsandoverhandrights.Heputhisheaddown,andcoveredupwithhishands.Rulenumbertwoofstreetfighting:neverputyourheaddown.Aimingthepunchesformaximumdamage,Ipunchedhimdirectlyintheear,onthetemples,andatthethroat.HewasabiggermanthanIwas,andatleastasstrong,buthewasnofighter.Hebuckled,andwenttohisknees,rollingoverontohissideandpleadingformercy.
Ilookeduptoseetheotheroverseersrunningtowardmefromtheyardoutside.Backingupintoacorneroftheroom,Itookupakaratestanceandwaitedforthem.Theyranatme.Oneofthemwasfasterthantheothers.Herushedintostrikingrange.Ikickedoutquickly.Myfootstruckhimbetweenthelegs,withallthestrengthIhad.Ipunchedhimthreetimesbeforehehittheground.Hisfacewasbloody.Thebloodsmearedonthepolishedstonefloorashecrawledawayfromme.Therestofthembaulked.
Theystoodinasemi-circlearoundme,startledandconfused,withtheirsticksraisedintheair.
“Comeon!”Ishouted,inHindi.“Whatcanyoudotome?Canyoudoworsethanthis?”
Ipunchedmyownface,hard,andpuncheditagain,drawingbloodfrommylip.Iswipedmyrighthandthroughthebloodonmywoundedarmandsmeareditonmyforehead.Lessonnumberthreeofstreetfighting:alwaysgetcrazierthantheotherguy.
“Canyoudoworsethanthis?”Ishouted,switchingtoMarathi.
“DoyouthinkI’mafraidof_this?Comeon!Iwantthis!Iwantyoutogetmeoutofthiscorner!You’llgetme,you’llgetme,butoneofyou,standingthere,willloseaneye.Oneofyou.
I’llripsomeone’seyeoutwithmyfingers,andeatit!Socomeon!Let’sgetonwithit!Andhurryup,becauseGodknows,I’mfuckin’hungry!”
Theyhesitated,andthendrewbackinahuddletodiscussthesituation.Iwatchedthem,everymuscleinmybodyastightandtautasaleopardleapingtothekill.Afterhalfaminuteofharshwhispering,theoverseersreachedadecision.Theydrewbackfurther,andsomeoftheirnumberranoutoftheroom.Ithoughttheymustberunningfortheguards,buttheyreturnedinsecondswithtenprisonersfrommyroom.Theyorderedthementositontheground,facingme,andthentheybegantobeatthem.Thesticksroseandfellswiftly.Themenshriekedandyowled.Thebeatingceased,afteraminute,andtheysentthetenmenaway.Inafewseconds,theyreplacedthemwithtenmore.
“Comeoutofthecorner,now!”oneoftheoverseerscommanded.
Ilookedatthemensittingontheground,andthenbackattheoverseer.Ishookmyhead.Theoverseergavethecommand,andthesecondgroupoftenmenwasbeatenwiththebamboocanes.Theircriesroseupinpiercingechoes,andwheeledaboutusinthestoneroomlikeaflockoffrightenedbirds.
“Comeoutofthecorner!”theoverseershouted.
“No.”
“Aurdass!”hescreamed.Bringtenmore!
Thenextgroupoftenfrightenedmenwasassembled,facingme.
Theoverseersraisedtheirsticks.Maheshwasinthethirdgroup.
Oneofthetwomenwho’dbeenbeatenandgivenanextrasix-monthsentencefortryingtohelpmewasalsointhehuddleoften.
Theylookedatme.Theyweresilent,buttheireyeswerepleadingwithme.
Iputmyhandsdownandtookastepforwardoutofthecorner.
Theoverseersrushedatme,andseizedmewithsixpairsofhands.Theyshovedanddraggedmetooneofthebarredsteelgates,andforcedmedownonmyback,withthetopofmyheadrestingagainstthesteelbars.Theykeptseveralpairsofhandcuffsinalockerattheirendoftheroom.Usingtwosetsofthoseantiqueirondevices,theychainedmyoutstretchedarmstothebarsatthewrists,levelwithmyhead.Theyusedcoconutfibreropetotiemylegstogetherattheankles.
BigRahulkneltbesideme,andbroughthisfaceclosetomine.
Theexertionofkneelingandbendingandcopingwithhismonstroushatredscausedhimtosweatandwheeze.Hismouthwascut,andhisnosewasswollen.IknewthathisheadwouldachefordaysfromthepunchesI’dlandedonhisearandhistemple.
Hesmiled.Youcannevertelljusthowmuchbadnessthereisinamanuntilyouseehimsmile.IsuddenlyrememberedacommentLettiehadmadeaboutMaurizio.Ifbabieshadwings,shesaid,he’dbethekindwho’dpullthemoff.Istartedtolaugh.
Helpless,withmyarmsstretchedoutandchainedbesideme,Ilaughed.BigRahulfrownedatme.Hisslack-lipped,cretinouspuzzlementmademelaughtheharder.
Thebeatingbegan.BigRahulexhaustedhimselfinafuriousassaultthatconcentratedonmyfaceandmygenitals.Whenhecouldliftthesticknomore,andwasgaspingforbreath,theotheroverseerssteppedinandcontinuedtheattack.Theyhammeredatmewiththebamboolathisfortwentyminutesormore.
Thentheytookabreaktosmokecigarettes.Iwaswearingshortsandasinglet,nothingelse.Thecaneshadcutintome,flayingmyskin,slicingandtearingitopenfromthesolesofmyfeettothetopofmyhead.
Afterthey’dsmoked,thebeatingresumed.Sometimelater,Iheardfromtheconversationaroundmethatanothergroupofoverseers,fromanotherroom,hadarrived.Thenewmen,withfresharms,lashedatmybody.Theirfurywasmerciless.Whentheyweredone,athirdgroupofoverseerslaunchedasavageattack.Thentherewasafourthgroup.Thenthefirstgroup,frommyownroom,crackedandwhippedtheirsticksatmewithmurderousbrutality.Itwastenthirtyinthemorningwhenthefloggingsbegan.Theycontinueduntileighto’clockthatnight.
“Openyourmouth.”
“What?”
“Openyourmouth!”thevoicedemanded.Icouldn’topenmyeyes,becausemyeyelidswerefusedtogetherwithdriedblood.Thevoicewasinsistentbutgentle,andcomingfrombehindme,ontheothersideofthebars.“Youmusttakeyourmedicine,sir!Youmusttakeyourmedicine!”
Ifelttheneckofaglassbottlepressagainstmymouthandteeth.Waterfloweddownmyface.Myarmswerestillstretchedoutbesideme,andchainedtothebars.Mylipsparted,andwaterflowedintomymouth.Iswallowedquickly,gulpingandspluttering.Handsheldmyhead,andIfelttwotabletsentermymouth,pushedbysomeone’sfingers.Thewaterbottlereturned,andIdrank,coughingwaterbackthroughmynose.
“Yourmandraxtablets,sir,”theguardsaid.“Youwillbesleepingnow.”
Floatingonmyback,armsoutstretched,mybodywasbruisedandcutsoextensivelythatnopartofitescapedthepain.Therewasnowaytomeasureorjudgeitbecauseitwasallpain,everywhere.Myeyesweresealedshut.Mymouthtastedbloodandwater.Idriftedtosleeponalakeofsticky,numbingstone.ThechorusofvoicesIheardwasmyownchoirofscreamsandtheshoutsofpainI’dkeptinside,anddidn’tgivethem,andwouldn’tgivethem.Theywokeme,atdawn,bythrowingabucketofwateronme.Athousandshriekingcutswokewithme.TheypermittedMaheshtowashmyeyeswithadamptowel.WhenIcouldopenthemtosee,theyunlockedthehandcuffs,liftedmebymystiffarms,andledmeoutoftheroom.Wemarchedthroughemptycourtyardsandimmaculatelysweptfootpathslinedwithgeometricallyperfectbedsofflowers.Atlastwestoppedbeforeoneoftheseniorprisonofficials.Hewasamaninhisfifties.Hisgreyhairandmoustachewerecloselytrimmedaroundhisfine,almostfemininefeatures.Hewasdressedinpyjamasandasilkbrocadedressinggown.Inthemiddleofadesertedcourtyard,hewassittinginanelaboratelycarved,high-backedchair,somethinglikeabishop’schair.Guardsstoodbesideandbehindhim.
“ThisisnotexactlyhowIlikemySundaystocommence,mydearfellow,”hesaid,coveringayawnwitharingedhand.“Justwhatthedevildoyouthinkyou’replayingat?”
HisEnglishwasthepreciseandroundedversionofthelanguagethatwastaughtingoodIndianschools.Iknew,fromthosefewsentencesandthewayhe’dspokenthem,thathiseducationwasapost-colonialparalleltomyown.Mymother,poorandworkedintoexhaustioneverydayofherlife,hadearnedthemoneytosendmetoaschoolexactlysuchashis.Underothercircumstanceswemight’vediscussedShakespeareorSchillerorBulfinch’sMythology.Iknewthatabouthimfromthosetwosentences.Whatdidheknowaboutme?
“Nottalking,eh?Whatisit?Havemymenbeenbeatingyou?Havetheoverseersdoneanythingtoyou?”
Istaredathiminsilence.IntheoldschoolofAustralianprisonsyoudon’tlag-orinformon-anyone.Noteventhescrews.
Notevenconvictoverseers.Younevertellonanyone,ever,foranyreason.
“Comenow,havetheoverseersbeenbeatingyou?”
Thesilencethatfollowedhisquestionwassuddenlydisturbedbythemorningsongofmynahbirds.Thesunwasfullyabovethehorizon,andgoldenlightstreamedthroughthemistyair,scatteringthedew.IfeltthemorningbreezeoneveryoneofthethousandcutsthatstretchedandcrackeddriedbloodeachtimethatImoved.Withmymouthfirmlyshut,IbreathedinthemorningairofthecitythatIlovedwithallmyheart.
“Areyoubeatinghim?”heaskedoneoftheoverseers,inMarathi.
“Absolutely,sir!”themanresponded,clearlysurprised.“Youtoldustobeathim.”
“Ididn’ttellyoutokillhim,youidiot!Lookathim!Helookslikehisskinisgone.”
Theofficialexaminedhisgoldwristwatchforamoment,andthensighedhisexasperationloudly.
“Verywell.Thisisyourpunishment.Youwillwearchainsonyourlegs.Youmustlearnnottohittheoverseers.Youmustlearnthatlesson.Andfromnowon,untilfurthernotice,youwillhavehalfyourrationoffood.Nowtakehimaway!”
Iheldmysilence,andtheyledmebacktotheroom.Iknewthedrill.I’dlearnedthehardwaythatit’swisetokeepsilentwhenprisonauthoritiesabusetheirpower:everythingyoudoenragesthem,andeverythingyousaymakesitworse.Despotismdespisesnothingsomuchasrighteousnessinitsvictims.
Thechain-fitterwasacheerful,middle-agedmanintheninthyearofaseventeen-yearsentenceforadoublemurder.He’dkilledhiswifeandhisbestfriendastheylaysleepingtogether,andthenhe’dturnedhimselfinatthelocalpolicestation.
“Itwaspeaceful,”hetoldmeinEnglishashecollapsedasteelbandaroundmyanklewithasetofcrunchingpliers.“Theywentintheirsleeping.Well,youcansaythathewentinhissleeping.Whentheaxecameonher,shewasawake,alittlebitawake,butnotforverylong.”
Withtheankle-chainsfitted,heliftedthelengthofchainthatwouldhobblemystep.Atitscentretherewasawiderlinkintheformofaring.Hegavemealongstripofcoarsecloth,andshowedmehowtothreadthestripthroughthering,andfastentheclotharoundmywaist.Inthatway,theringinthecentreofthelegchainhungfromthethread,atalittlebelowtheknees,andkeptthelegchainfromdraggingontheground.
“Theytoldme,youknow,intwomoreyearsonly,Iamoverseer,”heinformedme,sharingawinkandabroadsmileashepackeduphistools.“Don’tyoubeworry.Whenthatwillhappen,intwoyears,Iamlookingafteryou.YouaremyverygoodEnglishfriend,isn’tit?Noproblem.”
Thechainrestrictedmystridetotinysteps.Walkingatanyfasterpacerequiredashuffling,hip-swinginggait.Thereweretwoothermeninmyroomwithleg-irons,andbystudyingtheirmovementsIgraduallylearnedthetechnique.Withinafewdays,Iwalkedthatrolling,shamblingdanceasunselfconsciouslyastheydid.Infact,bystudyingthemandimitatingthem,Igraduallydiscoveredthattherewassomethingmorethannecessityintheirshufflingdance.
Theyweretryingtogivesomegracetotheirmovements,putsomethingbeautifulinthesliding,weavingsteps,tosoftentheindignityofthechain.Eveninthat,Idiscovered,humanbeingswillfindanart.
Butitwasaterriblehumiliation.Theworstthingsthatpeopledotousalwaysmakeusfeelashamed.Theworstthingsthatpeopledoalwaysstrikeatthepartofusthatwantstolovetheworld.Andatinypartoftheshamewefeel,whenwe’reviolated,isshameatbeinghuman.
Ilearnedtowalkwiththechains,buthalfrationstooktheirtoll,andIlostweightsteadily:asmuchasfifteenkilosinamonth,bymyguess.Iwaslivingonapalm-sizedpieceofchapattibreadandonesaucerofwaterysoupeveryday.Mybodywasthin,andseemedtobeweakeningbythehour.Mentriedtohelpmewithsmuggledfood.Theywerebeatenforit,butstilltheytried.Irefusedtheiroffersofhelp,afterawhile,becausetheguiltIfeltwhenevertheyreceivedabeatingonmybehalfwaskillingmejustassurelyasthemalnutrition.
ThemanyhundredsofsmallandlargecutsthatI’dsustainedonthedayandthenightofthebeatingcausedmeagonisingpain.
Mostofthemwereinfected,andsomewereswollenwithyellowpoison.Itriedtowashthemwiththeworm-infestedwater,butitdidn’tmakethemclean.Thebitesfromthekadmalwereaccumulatingeverynight.Therewerehundredsofbites,andmanyofthem,too,becameinfected,weepingsores.Bodyliceswarmedonme.Ifollowedtheroutineslaughterofthefilthy,wriggling,crawlingpests,everyday,buttheyweredrawntothecutsandwoundsonmybody.Iwokewiththemfeedingonmeandbreedinginthewarm,dampsores.
Thebeatings,however,hadstoppedaftermymeetingwiththeprisonofficialonthatSundaymorning.BigRahulstillwhackedmeoccasionally,andsomeoftheotheroverseersstruckmefromtimetotime,buttheywerehabitualgestures,andnotdeliveredwithfullforce.
Thenoneday,asIlayonmyside,conservingenergyandwatchingthebirdspeckforcrumbsinthecourtyardnexttoourdormitory,Iwasattackedbyapowerfulmanwhojumpedonmeandseizedmythroatinbothofhishands.
“Mukul!Mukul,myyoungbrother!”hegrowledatmeinHindi.“Mukul!Theyoungbrotheryoubitonhisface!Mybrother!”
HemightVebeentheman’stwin.Hewastallandheavyset.Irecognisedtheface,andintheinstantthatIheardthewordsIrememberedthemanwho’dtriedtotakemyaluminiumplateintheColabalock-up.I’dlosttoomuchweight.Iwastooweakenedbythehungerandthefever.Thepressofhisbodywascrushingme,andhishandswereclosingmythroattoair.Hewaskillingme.
Lessonnumberfourofstreetfighting:alwayskeepsomethinginreserve.Thelastofmyenergyexplodedinathrust,withonearm.Idrovethearmdownward,betweenourbodies,andgrabbedhisballs,squeezingandtwistingwithallthestrengthIhad.
Hiseyesandmouthopenedinagurglingscream,andhetriedtorolloffmetohisleft.Irolledwithhim.Hepressedhislegstogetheranddrewhiskneesup,butmyrighthandwouldn’tsurrenderthecrushinggrip.Iplungedthefingersofmyotherhandintothesoftskinabovehiscollarbone.Closingmyfingersandthumbaroundthecollarbone,Iuseditasahandle,forleverage,andbegantohithiminthefacewithmyforehead.Ihithimsixtimes,tentimes.Ifelthisteethopenacutinmyforehead,felthisnosebreak,felthisstrengthoozingfromhimwithhisblood,feltthecollarbonewrenchandtearawayinthesocket.Ikepthittinghimwiththeheadbutt.Wewerebothbloody,andhewasweakening,buthewouldn’tliestill.Ikepthittinghim.
Imight’vebeatenhimtodeathwiththebluntinstrumentofmyhead,buttheoverseersdraggedmeoffhimandbacktothegate.
Thechainsclampedaroundmywristsagain,buttheychangedtheirtactics,andchainedmetothegatefacedownonthestonefloor.
Roughhandstoremythinshirtfrommyback.Thebamboosticksroseandfellwithnewfury.Theoverseershadarrangedforthemantoattackme-itwasasetup,andtheyadmitteditduringoneofthebreakswhiletheyrestedtheirarms.They’dwantedthemantobeatmesenseless,maybeevenkillme.Hehadtheperfectmotive,afterall.They’dallowedhimintotheroom,andthey’dsanctionedhisrevengeattack.Butitdidn’twork.Ibeattheirman.Andtheywereoutragedthattheirplanshadgoneawry.Sothebeatingswentonforhours,withbreaksforcigarettesandchaiandsnacks,andprivateshowingsofmybloodiedbodyforselectedguestsfromotherpartsoftheprison.
Attheendofit,theyreleasedmefromthegate.Ilistened,myearsfilledwithblood,astheyarguedaboutwhattodowithme.Thebeatingthathadfollowedthefight,thebeatingthey’djustinflictedonme,wassosavageandbloodythattheoverseerswereworried.They’dgonetoofar,andtheyknewit.Theycouldn’treportanypartofittotheprisonofficials.Theydecidedtokeepthematterquiet,andtheyorderedoneoftheirflunkiestowashmyflayedandrazoredbodywithsoap.Understandably,themancomplainedabouttheodioustask.Aflurryofblowsencouragedhim,andheappliedhimselftothejobwithsomethoroughness.Iowemylifetohimand,inastrangeway,tothemanwho’dtriedtokillme.Withouttheattack,andtheirfurioustortureafterit,theoverseerswouldn’thaveallowedasoapandwarm-waterwash-itwasthefirstandlastIeverknewintheprison.Andthesoapywashsavedmylife,I’msure,becausethemanywoundsandlesionsonmybodyhadbecomesobadlyinfectedthatmytemperaturewasconstantlyfevered,andthepoisonwaskillingme.Iwastooweaktomove.Themanwhowashedme-Ineverevenknewhisname-gavemycutsandwoundsandabscessedsoressuchsoothingsolace,withthesoapywaterandsoftwashcloth,thattearsofreliefstreameddownmycheeks,mixingwithmybloodonthestonefloor.
Thefeverfelltoasimmeringshiver,butIstillstarved,andIgotthinnereveryday.Andeveryday,attheirendoftheroom,theoverseersfeastedthemselvesonthreegoodmeals.Adozenmenworkedastheirflunkies.Theywashedclothesandblankets,scrubbedthefloors,preparedthediningarea,cleanedthemessaftereachmealand,wheneverthewhimpossessedoneoftheoverseers,gavefoot,back,orneckmassages.Theywererewardedwithfewerbeatingsthantherestofus,afewbeediecigarettes,andscrapsoffoodfromeverymeal.Sittingaroundacleansheetonthestonefloor,theoverseersdippedintothemanydishesthatwentintotheirmeals:rice,dhals,chutneys,freshroti,fish,meatstews,chicken,andsweetdesserts.Astheyatenoisily,theythrewscrapsofchicken,bread,orfruitoutwardstothesurroundingflunkiessittingontheirhaunchesinsimianobsequiousness,andwaitingwithbulgingeyesandsalivatingmouths.
Thesmellofthatfoodwasamonstroustorment.Nofoodeversmelledsogoodtome,andasIslowlystarved,thesmelloftheirfoodcametorepresentthewholeoftheworldI’dlost.BigRahultookrelentlessdelightinofferingmefoodateverymeal.
Hewouldholdoutadrum-stickofchicken,wavingitintheairandfeigningadummythrow,enticingmewithhiseyesandraisedeyebrows,andinvitingmetobecomeoneofhisdogs.Occasionally,hethrewadrumstickorasweetcaketowardme,andwarnedthewaitingflunkiestoleaveitforme,forthegora,urgingmetocrawlforit.WhenIdidn’treact,andwouldn’treact,hegavethesignalfortheflunkies,andthenlaughedthatweak,viciouslaughasthemenscrambledandfoughtforit.
Icouldn’tbringmyselftocrawlacrossthefloorandacceptthatfood,althoughIwasweakerbytheday,bythehour.Eventuallymytemperaturesoaredagainuntilmyeyesburnedwiththefeverdayandnight.Ivisitedthetoilet,limping,orcrawlingonmykneeswhenthefevercrippledme,butthevisitsgrewlessfrequent.Myurinewasadark,orangecolour.Malnutritionrobbedmybodyofenergy,andeventhesimplestmovement-rollingoverfromonesidetoanother,orsittingup-demandedsomuchoftheprecious,limitedresourcethatIconsideredlongandhardbeforeundertakingit.Ilaymotionlessformostofeverydayandnight
Istilltriedtoremovethebodylice,andIstilltriedtowash.
Butthosesimpletasksleftmewretchedandpanting.Myheartbeatwasunnaturallyhigh,evenwhilelyingdown,andmybreathcameinshortpuffs,oftenaccompaniedbysoft,involuntarymoans.Iwasdyingofhunger,andIwaslearningthatit’soneofthecruellestwaystokillaman.IknewthatBigRahul’sscrapswouldsaveme,butIcouldn’tcrawlacrossthatroomtotheedgeofhisfeast.Still,Icouldn’tlookawayeither,andeverymealhegluttonisedfounditswitnessinmydyingeyes.
Idrifted,often,infeveredvisionstomyfamily,andthefriendsI’dknownandhadlostforeverinAustralia.IalsothoughtofKhaderbhai,Abdullah,QasimAli,JohnnyCigar,Raju,Vikram,Lettie,Ulla,Kavita,andDidier.IthoughtofPrabakeriandIwishedthatIcouldtellhimhowmuchIlovedhishonest,optimistic,brave,andgenerousheart.Andsoonerorlater,mythoughtsalwaysfoundtheirwaytoKarla,everyday,everynight,everyhourthatIcountedoutwithmyburningeyes.
Anditseemed,tomydreamingmind,thatKarlasavedme.Iwasthinkingofherwhenstrongarmsliftedme,andthechainsfellfrommywoundedankles,andguardsmarchedmetotheprisonofficial’soffice.Iwasthinkingofher.
Theguardsknocked.Atanansweringcall,theyopenedthedoor.
TheywaitedoutsidewhenIentered.Inthesmalloffice,Isawthreemen-theprisonofficialwiththeshortgreyhair,aplain-clothescop,andVikramPatel-sittingaroundametaldesk.
“Oh,fuck!”Vikramshouted.“Oh,man,youlook…youlookfuckin’terrible!Oh,fuck!Oh,fuck!Whathaveyoudonetothisguy?”
Theofficialandthecopexchangedneutralglances,butdidn’treply.
“Sitdown,”theprisonofficialcommanded.Iremainedstanding,onweakeninglegs.“Sitdown,please.”
Isat,andstaredatVikramwithtongue-lockedamazement.Theflat,blackhathangingonhisbackbythecordathisthroat,andhisblackvest,shirt,andscrolledflamencopantsseemedwildlyexotic,andyetthemostreassuringlyfamiliarcostumeIcouldimagine.Myeyesbegantolosefocusintheelaboratewhirlsandscrollsonhisembroideredvest,andIpulledmystarebacktohisface.Thatfacewrinkledandwincedashestaredatme.Ihadn’tlookedintoamirrorforfourmonths.Vikram’sgrimacesgavemeafairlygoodideaofhowneartodeathhebelievedmetobe.Heheldouttheblackshirtwiththelassofiguresthathe’dtakenoffhisbacktogivetomeintherainfourmonthsbefore.
“Ibrought…Ibroughtyourshirt…”hesaidfalteringly.
“What…whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Afriendsentme,”hereplied.“Averygoodfriendofyours.Oh,fuck,Lin.Youlooklikedogshavebeenchewingonyou.Idon’twanttofreakyououtornothing,butyoulookliketheydugyouup,aftertheyfuckin’killedyou,man.Juststaycool.I’mhere,man.I’mgonnagetyouthefuckouttathisplace.”
Takingthatashiscue,theofficialcoughed,andgesturedtowardthecop.Thecopgavetheleadbacktohim,andheaddressedVikram,akindofsmilepinchingthesoftskinaroundhiseyes.
“Tenthousand,”hesaid.“InAmericandollars,ofcourse.”
“Tenfuckin’thousand?”Vikramexploded.“Areyoucrazy?Icanbuyfiftyguysoutofthisplacewithtenthousand.Fuckthat,man.”
“Tenthousand,”theofficialrepeated,withthecalmandauthorityofamanwhoknowsthathebroughttheonlyguntoaknife-fight.Herestedhishandsflatonthemetaldesk,andhisfingersrolledthroughonceinalittleMexicanwave.
“Nofuckin’way,man.Arrey,takealookattheguy.Whatareyougivingme,yaar?Youfuckin’destroyedtheguy.Youthinkhe’sworthtenthousand,inthiscondition?”Thecoptookafolderfromaslendervinylbriefcase,andsliditacrossthedesktoVikram.Thefoldercontainedasinglesheetofpaper.Readingitquickly,Vikram’slipspressedoutward,andhiseyeswidenedinanexpressionofimpressedsurprise.
“Isthisyou?”heaskedme.“DidyouescapefromjailinAustralia?”
Istaredathimevenly,myfeverisheyesnotwavering.Ididn’treply.
“Howmanypeopleknowaboutthis?”heaskedtheplain-clothescop.
“Notsomany,”thecoprepliedinEnglish.“But,enoughtoneedtenthousand,forkeepingthisinformationaprivatematter.”
“Oh,shit,”Vikramsighed.“Theregoesmybargaining.Fuckit.
I’llhavethemoneyinhalfanhour.Cleanhimup,andgethimready.”
“There’ssomethingelse,”Iinterrupted,andtheyallturnedtolookatme.“Therearetwomen.Inmydormitory.Theytriedtohelpme,andtheoverseersortheguardsgavethemsixmonthsmore.Buttheyfinishedtheirtime.Iwantthemtowalkoutthegatewithme.”
Thecopgaveaninquiringlookattheprisonofficial.Herespondedbywavinghishanddismissivelyandwagginghisheadinagreement.Thematterwasameretrifle.Themenwouldbefreed.
“Andthere’sanotherguy,”Isaidflatly.“Hisname’sMaheshMalhotra.Hecan’traisehisbail.It’snotmuch,acoupleofthousandrupees.IwantyoutoletVikrampayhisbail.Iwanthimtowalkoutwithme.”
Thetwomenraisedtheirpalms,andexchangedidenticalexpressionsofbewilderment.Thefateofsuchapoorandinsignificantmanneverintrudedupontheirmaterialambitionsortheirspiritualdisenchantments.TheyturnedtoVikram.Theprisonofficialthrustouthisjawasiftosay,He’sinsane,butifthat’swhathewants…
Vikramstoodtoleave,butIraisedmyhand,andhesatdownagainquickly.
“Andthere’sanotherone,”Isaid.
Thecoplaughedoutloud.
“Aurek?”hespluttered,throughthelaugh.Onemore?
“He’sanAfrican.He’sintheAfricancompound.Hisname’sRaheem.Theybrokebothhisarms.Idon’tknowifhe’saliveordead.Ifhe’salive,Iwanthim,too.”
Thecopturnedtotheprisonofficial,hunchinghisshouldersandraisingthepalmofhishandinaquestion.
“Iknowthecase,”theprisonofficialsaid,wagginghishead.
“Itis…apolicecase.Thefellowcarriedonashamelessaffairwiththewifeofapoliceinspector.Theinspectorquiterightlyarrangedtohavehimputinhere.Andoncehewashere,thebrutemadeanassaultononeofmyoverseers.Itisquiteimpossible.”
Therewasalittlesilence,then,asthewordimpossibleswirledintheroomlikesmokefromacheapcigar.
“Fourthousand,”thecopsaid.
“Rupees?”Vikramasked.
“Dollars,”thecoplaughed.“Americandollars.Fourthousandextra.Twoforusandourassociates,andtwofortheinspectorwho’smarriedtotheslut.”
“Arethereanymore,Lin?”Vikrammuttered,earnestly.“I’mjustasking,like,becausewe’reworkin’ourwayuptoagroupdiscounthere,youknow.”
Istaredbackathim.Thefeverwasstingingmyeyes,andtheeffortittooktosituprightinthechairwascausingmetosweatandshiver.Hereachedout,leaningoversothathishandswererestingonmybareknees.Ihadthethoughtthatsomeofthebodylicemightcreepfrommylegsontohishands,butIcouldn’tbrushthatreassuringtouchaside.
“It’sgonnabecool,man.Don’tworry.I’llbebacksoon.We’llgetyouthefuckouttaherewithinthehour.Ipromise.I’llbebackwithtwotaxis,forusandyourguys.”
“Bringthreetaxis,”Ianswered,myvoicesoundingasthoughitcamefromanew,dark,deepplacethatwasopeningupasIbegantoacceptthatImightbefree.
“Onetaxiforyou,andtheothertwoformeandtheguys,”Isaid.“Because…bodylice.”
“Okay,”heflinched.“Threetaxis.Yougotit.”
Halfanhourlater,IrodewithRaheeminthebackofablackand-yellowFiattaxithroughthetectonicspectacleandpedestrianpageantofthecity.Raheemhadobviouslyreceivedsometreatment-hisarmswereencasedinplastercasts-buthewasthinandsick,andhorrorcloggedhiseyes.Ifeltnauseousjustlookingintothoseeyes.Heneversaidaword,excepttotelluswherehewantedtogo.Hewascrying,softlyandsilently,whenwedroppedhimoffatarestaurantthatHassaanObikwaownedinDongri.
Aswedroveon,thedriverkeptstaringatmygaunt,starved,beatenfaceinhisrear-visionmirror.Finally,Iaskedhiminrough,colloquialHindiifhehadanyIndianmoviesongsinhiscab.
Stunned,herepliedthathedid.Inominatedoneofmyfavourites,andhefoundit,crankingituptothemaxaswebuzzedandbeepedourwaythroughthetraffic.Itwasasongthattheprisonersinthelongroomhadpassedfromgrouptogroup.
Theysangitalmosteverynight.Isangitasthetaxitookmebackintothesmellandcolourandsoundofmycity.Thedriverjoinedin,lookingoftenintothemirror.Noneofuslieorguardoursecretswhenwesing,andIndiaisanationofsingerswhosefirstloveisthekindofsongweturntowhencryingjustisn’tenough.
ThesongwasstillsoaringinmeasIshedmyclothesintoaplasticbagfordisposal,andstoodunderthestrongwarmjetofwaterinVikram’sshower.ItippedawholebottleofDettoldisinfectantovermyhead,andscrubbeditintomyskinwithahardnailbrush.Athousandcutsandbitesandgashescriedout,butmythoughtswereofKarla.Vikramtoldmeshe’dleftthecitytwodaysbefore.No-oneseemedtoknowwhereshe’dgone.HowwillIfindher?Whereisshe?Doesshehatemenow?DoesshethinkIdumpedher,afterwemadelove?Couldshethinkthataboutme?IhavetostayinBombay-she’llcomebackhere,tothecity.Ihavetostayandwaitforher.
Ispenttwohoursinthatbathroom,thinking,scrubbing,andclenchingmyteethagainstthepain.MywoundswererawwhenIemergedtowrapatowelroundmywaistandstandinVikram’sbedroom.
“Oh,man,”hegroaned,shakinghisheadandcringinginsympathy.
Ilookedintothefull-lengthmirroronthefrontofhiswardrobe.I’dusedhisbathroomscalestocheckmyweight:Iwasforty-fivekilos-halftheninetykilosI’dbeenwhen[wasarrestedfourmonthsbefore.Mybodywassothinthatitresembledthoseofmenwho’dsurvivedconcentrationcamps.Thebonesofmyskeletonwereallvisible,eventotheskullbeneathmyface.Cutsandsorescoveredmybody,andbeneaththemwasthetortoise-shellpatternofdeepbruises,everywhere.
“Khaderheardaboutyoufromtwooftheguyswhogotoutofyourdormitory-someAfghanguys.TheysaidtheysawyouwithKhader,onenight,whenyouwenttoseesomeblindsingers,andtheyrememberedyoufromthere.”
Itriedtopicturethemen,torememberthem,butIcouldn’t.
Afghans,Vikramhadsaid.Theymust’vebeenverygoodatkeepingsecretsbecausethey’dneverspokentomeinallthosemonthsinthelockedroom.Whoevertheywere,Iowedthem.
“Whentheygotout,theytoldKhaderaboutyou,andKhadersentforme.”
“Whyyou?”
“Hedidn’twantanyonetoknowthathewastheonegettingyouout.Thepricewassteepenough,yaar.Iftheyknewitwashimpayingthebaksheesh,thepricewould’vebeenalothigher.”
“Buthowdoyouknowhim?”Iasked,stillstaringwithfascinatedhorroratmyowntortureandemaciation.
“Who?”
“Khaderbhai.Howdoyouknowhim?”
“EverybodyinColabaknowshim,man.”
“Sure,buthowdoyouknowhim?”
“Ididajobforhimonce.”
“Whatsortofajob?”
“It’skindofalongstory.”
“I’vegottime,ifyouhave.”
Vikramsmiledandshookhishead.Hestood,andcrossedthebedroomtopourtwodrinksatasmalltablethatservedashisprivatebar.
“OneofKhaderbhai’sgoondasbeatuparichkidatanightclub,”hebegan,handingmeadrink.“Hedidhimoverprettybad.FromwhatIhear,thekidhaditcoming.Buthisfamilypressedcharges,withthecops.Khaderbhaiknewmydad,andfromhimhefoundoutthatIknewthekid-wewenttothesamedamncollege,yaar.Hegotintouchwithme,andaskedmetofindouthowmuchtheywantedtodropthecase.Turnsouttheywantedplenty.ButKhaderpaidit,andalittlemore.Hecould’vegotheavywiththem,youknow,andscaredtheshitoutofthem.Hecould’vefuckin’killedthem,yaar.Thewholefuckin’family.Buthedidn’t.Hisguywasinthewrong,_na?So,hewantedtodotherightthing.Hepaidthemoney,andeveryoneendeduphappy.He’sokay,thatKhaderbhai.Arealserioustype,ifyouknowwhatImean,buthe’sokay.Mydadrespectshim,andhelikeshim,andthat’ssayingquitealot,becausemypop,hedoesn’trespectmanymembersofthehumanrace.Youknow,Khadertoldmehewantsyoutoworkforhim.”
“Doingwhat?”
“Don’taskme,”heshrugged.Hebegantotosssomeclean,pressedclothesfromhiswardrobeontothebed.OnebyoneIacceptedtheshorts,trousers,shirt,andsandals,andbegantodress.“Hejusttoldmetobringyoutoseehimwhenyoufeelwellenough.
I’dthinkaboutitifIwasyou,Lin.Youneedtofeedyourselfup.Youneedtomakesomefastbucks.Andyouneedafriendlikehim,yaar.AllthatstuffaboutAustralia-it’safuckin’wildstory,man.Iswear,beingontherunandall,it’sdamnheroic.
AtleastwithKhaderonyourside,you’llbesafehere.Withhimbehindyou,nobodywilleverdothisshittoyouagain.Yougotapowerfulfriendthere,Lin.NobodyfuckswithKhaderKhaninBombay.”
“Sowhydon’tyouworkforhim?”Iasked,andIknewthatthetoneofmyvoicewasharsh-harsherthanI’dintendedittobe-buteverythingIsaidsoundedlikethatthen,withmemoriesofthebeatingsandthebodylicestillslicinganditchingacrossmyskin.
“Inevergotinvited,”Vikramrepliedevenly.“ButevenifIdidgetinvitedtojoinhim,Idon’tthinkI’dtakehimuponit,yaar.”
“Whynot?”
“Idon’tneedhimthewayyoudo,Lin.Allthosemafiaguys,theyneedeachother,youknowwhatImean?TheyneedKhaderbhaiasmuchasheneedsthem.AndIdon’tneedhimlikethat.Butyoudo.”
“Yousoundverysure,”Isaid,turningtomeethiseye.
“Iamsure.Khaderbhai,hetoldmethathefoundoutwhyyougotpickedupandputinjail.Hesaidthatsomeonepowerful,someonewithalotofinfluence,hadyouputaway,man.”
“Whowasit?”
“Hedidn’tsay.Hetoldmehedoesn’tknow.Maybehejustdidn’twanttotell_me.Whateverthecase,Linmybrother,you’repaddlinginsomefuckin’deepshit.Thebadguysdon’tfuckaroundinBombay-youknowthatmuchbynow-andifyou’vegotanenemyhere,you’regoingtoneedalltheprotectionyoucanget.
Yougottwochoices-getthefuckoutoftown,orgetsomefirepoweronyourside,liketheguysattheOKCorral,youknow?”
“Whatwouldyoudo?”
Helaughed,butmyexpressiondidn’tchange,andheletthelaughterquicklyfade.Helittwocigarettesandpassedonetome.
“Me?I’dbefuckin’angry,yaar.Idon’twearthiscowboystuffbecauseIlikecows-IwearitbecauseIlikethewaythosecowboyfuckershandledthingsinthosedays.Me,I’dwanttofindoutwhotriedtofuckmeover,andI’dwanttogetsomedamnrevengeonhim.Me,whenIwasready,I’dacceptKhader’soffer,andgotoworkforhim,andgetmyrevenge.Buthey,that’sme,andI’manIndianmadachudh,yaar.
Andthat’swhatanIndianmadachudhwoulddo.”
Ilookedinthemirroroncemore.Thenewclothesfeltlikesaltontherawwounds,buttheycoveredtheworstofit,andIlookedlessalarming,lessconfronting,lesshideous.Ismiledatthemirror.Iwaspractising,tryingtorememberwhatitwasliketobeme.Italmostworked.Ialmosthadit.Thenanewexpression,notquitemyown,swirledintothegreyofmyeyes.Neveragain.
Thatpainwouldn’thappentomeagain.Thathungerwouldn’tthreatenme.Thatfearwouldn’tpiercemyexiledheart.Whateverittakes,myeyessaidtome.Whateverittakesfromnowon.
“I’mreadytoseehim,”Isaid.“I’mreadyrightnow.”
____________________
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
WorkingforAbdelKhaderKhanwasmyfirstrealinstructioninorganisedcrime-untilthenI’dbeennomorethanadesperateman,doingstupid,cowardlythingstofeedastupid,cowardlyheroinhabit,andthenadesperateexileearningsmallcommissionsonrandomdeals.AlthoughtheywerecrimesthatI’dcommitted,andsomeofthemwereveryserious,IwasneverreallyacriminaluntilIacceptedKhaderbhaiasmyteacher.I’dbeenamanwhocommittedcrimes,uptothen,ratherthanacriminal,andthere’sadifferencebetweenthetwo.Thedifference,aswithmostthingsinlife,layinthemotiveandthemeans.BeingtorturedinArthurRoadPrisonhadgivenmethemotivetocrosstheline.Anotherman,asmartermanthanIwas,might’verunawayfromBombayassoonashewasfreedfromtheprison.Ididn’t.Icouldn’t.Iwantedtoknowwho’dputmeinthere,andwhy.Iwantedrevenge.ThesafestandfastestwaytothatvengeancewastojoinKhaderbhai’sbranchofthemafia.
Hisinstructioninthelawbreaker’sarts-hesentmefirsttothePalestinian,KhaledAnsari,tolearntheblack-marketmoneytrade–gavemethemeanstobecomewhatI’dnevertriedorwantedtobe:aprofessionalcriminal.Anditfeltgood.Itfeltsogoodwithintheprotectivecircleofthatbandofbrothers.WhenIrodethetraintoKhaled’sapartmenteveryday,hangingoutthedoorofarattlingcarriageinthehot,drywindwithotheryoungmen,myheartswelledwiththeexcitementoffreedom’swild,recklessride.
Khaled,myfirstteacher,wasthekindofmanwhocarriedhispastinthetemplefiresofhiseyes,andfedtheflameswithpiecesofhisbrokenheart.I’veknownmenlikeKhaledinprisons,onbattlefields,andinthedenswheresmugglers,mercenaries,andotherexilesmeet.Theyallhavecertaincharacteristicsincommon.They’retough,becausethere’sakindoftoughnessthat’sfoundintheworstsorrow.They’rehonest,becausethetruthofwhathappenedtothemwon’tletthemlie.
They’reangry,becausetheycan’tforgetthepastorforgiveit.
Andthey’relonely.Mostofuspretend,withgreaterorlessersuccess,thattheminuteweliveinissomethingwecanshare.
Butthepastforeveryoneofusisadesertisland;andthoselikeKhaled,whofindthemselvesmaroonedthere,arealwaysalone.
KhaderbhaihadtoldmesomeofKhaled’shistorywhenhe’dbriefedmeformyfirstlessons.I’dlearnedthatKhaled,atonlythirtyfour,wasaloneintheworld.Hisparents,bothrenownedscholars,hadbeenprominentinthePalestinianstruggleforanindependentnation-state.Hisfatherhaddiedinprison,inIsrael.Hismother,histwosisters,hisauntsanduncles,andhismother’sparentshadallbeenkilledinthemassacresatShatila,inLebanon.Khaled,who’dtrainedwithPalestinianguerrillaunitsinTunisia,Libya,andSyria,andhadfoughtfornineyearsindozensofoperationsacrossascoreofconflictzones,brokedownafterthebloodydeathsofhismotherandalltheothersattherefugeecamp.HisFattahGroupcommander,knowingthesignsofthatbreakdownandtherisksitposed,hadreleasedhimfromduty.
AlthoughstilldevotedtothecauseofPalestinianstatehoodinhiswords,hewasinfactlosttoanycausebutthesufferinghe’denduredandthesufferinghelivedtoinflict.He’ddriftedtoBombayontherecommendationofaseniorguerrillafighterwhoknewKhaderbhai.Themafiadontookhimin.Impressedwithhiseducation,languageskills,andobsessivededication,thepermanentmembersofKhaderbhai’scouncilhadrewardedtheyoungPalestinianwithsuccessivepromotions.ThreeyearsafterShatila,atthetimethatImethim,KhaledAnsariwasinchargeofKhaderbhai’sblack-marketcurrencyoperation.Thepositioncarriedwithitaplaceonthecouncil.AndwhenIfeltstrongenoughtoputinafulldayofstudy,notlongaftermyreleasefromArthurRoadPrison,thebitter,lonely,battle-scarredPalestinianbeganmyinstruction.
“Peoplesaythatmoneyistherootofallevil,”Khaledtoldmewhenwemetinhisapartment.HisEnglishwasrichwithaccentsofNewYorkandArabicandtheHindithathespokereasonablywell.“Butit’snottrue.It’stheotherwayround.Moneyisn’ttherootofallevil.Evilistherootofallmoney.There’snosuchthingascleanmoney.Allthemoneyintheworldisdirty,insomeway,becausethere’snocleanwaytomakeit.Ifyougetpaidinmoney,somebody,somewhere,issufferingforit.That’soneofthereasons,Ithink,whyjustabouteverybody-evenpeoplewho’dneverbreakthelawinanyotherway-ishappytoaddanextrabuckortwototheirmoneyontheblackmarket.”
“Youmakeyourlivingfromit,”Isaid,curioustoknowhowhewouldrespond.
“So?”
“So,howdoyoufeelaboutit?”
“Idon’tfeelanythingaboutit,onewayortheother.Sufferingisthetruth.Notsufferingisthelie.Itoldyouthat,oncebefore.That’sjustthewaytheworldis.”
“Butsurelysomemoneyhasmoresufferingattachedtoit,”Ipersisted,“andsomemoneyhasless.”
“Moneyonlycomesintwokinds,Lin-yours,andmine.”
“Or,inthiscase,Khader’smoney.”
Khaledlaughed.Itwasashort,sadlaugh,andtheonlyonethatwasleftinhim
“WemakemoneyforAbdelKhader,true,butapartofeverythingwemakeisours.Andit’sthelittlepartofeverythingthatbelongsto_usthatkeepsusinthegame,na?Okay,let’sgetstarted.Whydoblackmarketsformoneyexist?”
“I’mnotsurewhatyoumean.”
“I’llaskitinadifferentway,”Khuledsmiled.Thethickscarthatstartedathisthroat,belowtheleftear,andcutagrooveinhisfaceallthewaytothecornerofhismouth,gavethesmilealopsidedandunsettlingtwist.Thescarredhalfofhisfacedidn’tsmileatall,whichmeantthattheotherhalfseemedmenacing,orpained,whenhewastryinghardesttobekind.“HowisitthatwecanbuyoneAmericandollarfromatouristfor,say,eighteenrupees,whenthebanksareonlyofferingfifteenorsixteen?”
“Becausewecansellthemformorethaneighteen?”Ioffered.
“Good.Good.Now,howcanwedothat?”
“Because…someonewantstobuythematthatprice,Iguess.”
“Exactly.Butwhoarewesellingthemto?”
“Look,themostIeverdidwasputtouriststogetherwithblackmarketguys,andtakemycut.Idon’treallyknowwhathappenstothedollarsafterthat.Ineverwentthatfarintoit.”
“Blackmarketsforthingsexist,”hesaidslowly,asifconfidingapersonalsecretratherthanacommercialfact,“becausethewhitemarketsaretoostrict.Inthiscase,inthecaseofcurrencies,thegovernmentandtheReserveBankofIndiacontrolthewhitemarkets,andthey’retoostrict.It’sallaboutgreed,andcontrol.Thesearethetwoelementsthatmakeforcommercialcrime.Anyoneofthem,onitsown,isnotenough.Greedwithoutcontrol,orcontrolwithoutgreedwon’tgiveyouablackmarket.
Mencanbegreedyfortheprofitmadefrom,let’ssay,pastries,butifthereisn’tstrictcontrolonthebakingofpastries,therewon’tbeablackmarketforapplestrudel.Andthegovernmenthasverystrictcontrolsonthedisposalofsewage,butwithoutgreedforprofitfromsewage,therewon’tbeablackmarketforshit.Whengreedmeetscontrol,yougetablackmarket.”
“You’veputalotofthoughtintothis,”Icommented,laughing,butimpressedandgenuinelygladthathewantedtogivemetheontologyofcurrencycrime,andnotjustthewaysIcouldgoaboutcommittingit.
“Notreally,”heansweredself-deprecatingly.
“No,I’mserious.WhenKhaderbhaisentmehere,Ithoughtyouweregoingtogivemeafewtablesoffigures-youknow,today’scurrencyexchangeratesandallthat-andthensendmeonmyway.”
“Oh,we’llgettotheratesandstuffsoonenough,”hesmiledagain,soundingveryAmericaninthelight-heartedaside.Iknewhe’dstudiedinNewYorkwhenhewasmuchyounger.Khaderbhaihadtoldmethathe’dbeenhappythere,foratime.Alittleofthathappinessseemedtohavesurvivedinthelong,roundedvowelsandotherAmericanismsofhisspeech.“Butfirstyouneedthetheory,beforeyoucanmakeaprofitfromthepractice.”
TheIndianrupee,Khaledexplained,wasarestrictedcurrency.Itcouldn’tbetakenoutofIndia,anditcouldn’tlegallybechangedfordollarsanywhereintheworldbutinIndia.Withitsvastpopulation,Indiasentmanythousandsofbusinessmen,businesswomen,andtravellersoutofthecountryeveryday.ThosepeoplewerepermittedtotakeoutonlyalimitedamountofAmericancurrencywiththem.TheycouldchangeafixedamountoftheirrupeesintoAmericandollars,andtheresthadtobeconvertedintheformoftravellers’cheques.
Theregulationwasenforcedinvariousways.Whensomeonewantedtoleavethecountryandchangerupeesintodollarstothelegallimit,heorshehadtopresentapassportandplaneticketatthebank.Thebanktellerconfirmedthedeparturedateontheticket,andmarkedboththeticketandthepassporttoindicatethattheholderhadbeengrantedthefulllimitofAmericandollarsinexchangeforrupees.Thetransactioncouldn’tbeduplicated.TherewasnolegalwayforthetravellertobuymoreAmericandollarsforthatjourney.
AlmosteveryoneinIndiahadatleastsomeblackmoneyunderthebed.Fromthefewhundredrupeesthataworkingmanearnedanddidn’treporttotheTaxOffice,allthewaytothebillionsofrupeesaccumulatedasprofitsfromcrime,theblackeconomywassaidtobealmosthalfaslargeasthelegal,whiteeconoriy.
Anyonewhohadthousands,orhundredsofthousands,ofundeclaredrupees-asmanyIndianbusinesstravellersdid-couldn’tbuylegaltravellers’chequeswiththem:thebankortheTaxOfficealwayswantedtoknowwherethemoneycamefrom.Sotheonlyrealalternativewastobuydollarsfromtheblack-marketcurrencydealers.Andeveryday,inBombay,millionsofrupeesworthofblackAmericandollars,Englishpounds,Deutschmarks,Swissfrancs,andothercurrencieswereboughtandsoldinatradethatwasadarkmirrorofthelegalmoneyexchanges.
“IbuyathousandAmericandollars,fromatourist,foreighteenthousandrupees,whenthebankexchangerateissetatfifteen,”
Khaledsummarised.“He’shappy,becausehe’sthreethousandrupeesbetteroffthanhewould’vebeenatthebank.ThenIsellthedollars,toanIndianbusinessman,fortwenty-onethousandrupees.He’shappy,becauseheboughtthedollarswithblackmoneythathecouldn’tdeclare.ThenIputthreethousandrupeesinthekitty,andIbuyanotherthousanddollars,fromanothertourist,foreighteenthousand.That’sthesimpleequationattheheartofthecurrencyracket.”
Tofindthetourists,andenticethemtochangetheirmoney,Khaderbhai’smafiacouncilemployedasmallarmyoftouts,guides,beggars,hotelmanagers,bellboys,restaurateurs,waiters,shopkeepers,airlineofficials,travelagents,nightclubowners,prostitutes,andcabdrivers.KeepingtabsonthemwasoneofKhaled’sjobs.Inthemorningshephonedallthebusinessestoestablishexchangeratesforalltheimportantcurrencies.Therewereupdatecallseverytwohoursthroughouttheday,advisingofanyfluctuationsintherates.Ataxiwasathisdisposalaroundtheclock,withtwodriversoperatinginshifts.Everymorninghevisitedthebagmenforeacharea,andhandedoverbundlesofrupeesforthestreettraderstouseastheirfloat.Toutsandotherstreet-levelcrooksdealtwiththestreettraders,guidingtouristsandbusinessmentothem.Thetraderschangedmoney,andkepttheforeigncurrenciesinbundlestobecollected.Bagmendidtheroundsoftradersthroughouttheday,supplyingthemwithcashastheyneededit.Collectorsmadeseveralsweepsduringeachworkingdayandnighttopickupbundlesofforeigncurrency.
Khaledsupervisedpersonalcollectionsandexchangesathotels,airlineoffices,travelagencies,andotherbusinessesthatrequiredagreaterdegreeofdiscretion.Hemadetwomajorpickupsfromhiscollectorsinthekeyareas;oneatnoon,andoneinthelateevening.Relevantcopsineveryareawerepaidtolookawayfromanythingthatmightoffendtheirsensibilities.Inreturn,Khaderbhaipromisedthatanyviolencehedeemednecessary,intheeventthatsomeonetriedtorobhismenorholdoutonthem,wouldbeswiftandsure,andwouldneverinvolvethepoliceorthreatentheirinterestsinanyway.TheresponsibilityformaintainingdisciplineandenforcingKhader’scontrolfelltoAbdullahTaheri.HisteamofIndiangoondasandIranianveteransofthewarwithIraqensuredthatirregularitieswererare,andruthlesslypunished.
“You’llworkwithme,onthecollections,”Khaledannounced.
“You’lllearnitall,intime,butIreallywantyoutoconcentrateonthetrickyones-thefive-starhotels,andtheairlineoffices.Theshirtandtiejobs.I’llgowithyou,especiallyatthestart,butIthinkit’llbegoodifagora,awell-dressed,whiteforeigner,doesthehand-oversinthoseplaces.You’llbeinvisible.Theywon’tlookatyoutwice.Andourcontactswillbealotlessedgy,dealingwithyou.Afterthat,Iwantyoutogetintothetravelbusiness.Icanuseagorathere,too.”
“Thetravelbusiness?”
“Oh,you’regonnaloveit,”hesaid,meetingmyeyeswiththatsamesadsmile.“It’llmakethatstintyoudidinArthurRoadseemworthit,becauseit’sfirstclassalltheway.”
Thetravelracket,heexplained,wasanespeciallylucrativepartofthecurrencytrade.ItinvolvedlargenumbersofpeoplefromthemillionsofIndianswhoworkedinSaudiArabia,Dubai,AbuDhabi,Muscat,Bahrain,Kuwait,andelsewherethroughouttheArabGulf.TheIndianworkers,employedoncontractsforthree,six,ortwelvemonthsasdomestics,cleaners,andlabourers,wereusuallypaidinforeigncurrency.MostoftheworkerstriedtoexchangetheirwagesontheblackmarketassoonastheygotbacktoIndia,inordertogainafewextrarupees.Khader’smafiacouncilofferedtheemployersandtheworkersashortcut.WhentheysoldtheirforeigncurrenciesinbulktoKhaderbhai,theArabemployersreceivedaslightlymorefavourablerate,allowingthemtopaytheirworkersinrupees,attheblack-marketrate,inIndia.Thatleftthemwithasurplusofrupees,andgavethemanetprofitfrompayingtheirworkers.
FormanyGulfStateemployers,thetemptationtosuchcurrencycrimewasirresistible.They,too,hadcachesofundeclared,untaxedmoneyundertheiropulentbeds.SyndicatesdevelopedtoorganisethepaymentofIndianguestworkersinrupeeswhentheyreturnedtoIndia.Theworkerswerehappybecausetheygottheblack-marketratebutdidn’thavetonegotiatewithhard-nosedblack-marketdealerspersonally.Thebosseswerehappybecausetheymadeprofitsfromthepaymentthroughtheirsyndicates.Theblackmarketeerswerehappybecauseasteadystreamofdollars,Deutschmarks,riyals,anddirhamsflowedintotheriverofdemandcreatedbyIndianbusinesstravellers.Onlythegovernmentmissedout,andno-oneinthethousandsuponthousandsofpeopleinvolvedinthetradeshamedhimselfbeyondenduranceonthataccount.
“I…thiswholebusinesswasoncesomethingofaspecialtywithme…,”Khaledsaid,whenthatlongfirstlessonfinallyended.
Hisvoicetrailedoff,andIcouldn’tbecertainwhetherhewasreminiscingorsimplyreluctanttotalkfurther.Iwaited.
“WhenIwasstudying,inNewYork,”hewentonatlast,“Iwasworkingonathesis…well,Iwroteathesis,on_un-organisedtradeintheancientworld.It’sanareathatmymotherwasresearching,beforethe’67war.WhenIwasakid,shegotmeinterestedintheblackmarketsofAssyria,Akkad,andSumer,andhowtheyrelatedtotraderoutes,andtaxes,andtheempiresthatbuiltuparoundthem.WhenIstartedtowriteitmyself,IcalleditBlackBabylon.”
“It’sacatchytitle.”
HefiredaglanceatmetoreassurehimselfthatIwasn’tmockinghim.
“Imeanit,”Isaidquickly,wantingtoputhimateasebecauseIwasbeginningtolikehim.“Ithinkit’sagoodtopicforathesis,andit’saverycatchytitle.Ithinkyoushouldgoaheadandfinishit.”Hesmiledagain.
“Well,Lin,lifehasalotofsurprises,and,asmyuncleinNewYorkusedtosay,mostofthemain’thappyonesforaworkingstiff.NowI’mworking_forablackmarket,insteadofworkingonone.Now,it’sBlackBombay.”
Thebitternessinhisvoicewasdisconcerting.Hisjawbegantosetinagrimandalmostangryexpressionashestaredathisjoinedhands.Imovedtosteertheconversationawayfromthepast.
“Youknow,I’vebeeninvolvedwithapartoftheblackmarketthatmightinterestyou.Haveyouheardofthelepers’medicinemarket?”
“Sure,”hereplied,interestglitteringinhisdarkbrowneyes.
Heranahandoverhisfaceandupacrosstheshort,militaryhaircut,prematurelystreakedwithgreyandwhite.Thegesturewipedhisgloomyrecollectionsaway,andhegavemehisfullattention.“IheardthatyoumetRanjit-he’sincredible,isn’the?”
WetalkedaboutRanjitbhai,thekingofhislittlegroupoflepers,andtheblackmarketthey’dorganisedacrossthecountry.
Theirmysterioustradefascinatedusequally.Asahistorian-oramanwho’doncedreamedofbecomingahistorian,likehisscholarlymother-Khaledwasintriguedbythelongevolutionandsecretconductofthelepers’organisation.Asawriter,Iwasprovokedbythestoryoftheirsufferingandtheiruniqueresponsetoit.Aftertwentyminutesofexcited,actuatingdiscussion,weagreedtovisitRanjittogethertofindoutmoreaboutthehistoryoftheblackmarketinmedicines.
Andwiththatpledgebetweenexiles,betweenscholarandwriter,KhaledandIestablishedasimplebutenduringbondofintellectualrespect.Webecamefriendsintherapid,unquestioningwayofcriminals,soldiers,andothersurvivorsofdisaster.Ivisitedhimeverydayinhissparselyfurnished,SpartanapartmentnearAndheristation.Thesessionslastedfiveorsixhours.Theyrovedfreelyfromancienthistorytoreservebankinterest-ratepolicies,fromanthropologytofixedandfloatingcurrencies,andIlearnedmoreaboutthatverycommonbutcomplexcrimeinonemonth,withKhaledAnsari,thanmoststreettradersindollarsandDeutschmarkslearnedinayearofdealing.
Andwhenthelessonswerecomplete,IwenttoworkwithKhaledeverymorningandeveryevening,sevendaysaweek.Thepaywasgood.ThewagesIearnedcameinsuchquantitiesthatIwasoftenpaidinthickblocksofrupees,directfromthebankandstillbearingtheirsteelstaplesallthewaythroughthenotes.Comparedtotheslum-dwellersI’dknownasneighbours,friends,andpatientsforalmosttwoyears,Iwasalreadyarichman.
Toensurethatthecutsandwoundsofprisonhealedasquicklyaspossible,I’dtakenaroomattheIndiaGuestHouse,atKhaderbhai’sexpense.Theclean,tiledshowerandsoftmattressdidhelpmetoheal,buttherewasmoretothemovethanphysicalconvalescence.ThetruthwasthatthemonthsinArthurRoadPrisonhaddamagedmyspiritmorethanmybody.AndthelingeringshameIfeltoverthedeathsofmyneighbourRadhainthecholeraepidemic,andthetwoboysfrommyEnglishclass,gavemenopeace.Theprisontorment,andmyfailuresinthecholeraepidemic:Imight’vesurvivedeitheroneofthemonitsown,andgonebacktothoseloving,wretchedacreswhenIwaswellenough.
Butbothofthem,together,weremorethanmyfrailself-respectcouldendure,andIcouldn’tliveintheslumorevensleepthenightthere.
IvisitedPrabaker,Johnny,Qasim,andJeetendraoften,andIcontinuedtohelpoutattheclinic,attendingtopatientsfortwoafternoonseveryweek.Butthestrangemixofarroganceandinsouciancethathadpermittedmetobetheslumdoctorwasgone,andIdidn’texpectittoreturn.There’salittlearroganceattheheartofeverybetterself.ThatarroganceleftmewhenIfailedtosavemyneighbour’slife-failedeventoknowthatshewasill.Andthere’saninnocence,essentialandunblinking,intheheartofeverydeterminationtoserve.ThatinnocencefalteredwhenIstumbledfromtheIndianprison:mysmile,nolessthanmyfootsteps,hobbledbythememoryoftheleg-irons.
Movingoutoftheslumhadasmuchormoretodowiththestateofmysoulasitdidwiththewoundsonmybody.
Fortheirpart,myfriendsfromtheslumacceptedmydecisionwithoutquestionorcomment.TheygreetedmewarmlywheneverIvisited,andinvolvedmeinthedailyroutinesandcelebrationsoftheslum-weddings,festivals,communitymeetings,orcricketgames-asifIstilllivedandworkedwiththem.Anddespitetheirshockandsorrowwhentheysawmyemaciatedframe,andthescarsthattheoverseershadbrandedonmyskin,theyneveroncementionedtheprison.Apartofthat,Ithink,wassensitivitytotheshametheyknewImust’vebeenfeeling;theshamethattheywould’vefelthadtheybeenimprisoned.Anotherpart,intheheartsofPrabaker,andJohnnyCigar,andperhapsevenQasimAli,mightVebeenfoundinguilt-thattheyhadn’tbeenabletohelpmebecausetheyhadn’tthoughttosearchforme.NoneofthemhadrealisedthatI’dbeenarrested.They’dassumedthatI’dsimplytiredoflifeintheslum,andthatI’dreturnedtomycomfortablelifeinmycomfortablecountry,likeeveryothertouristortravellerthey’deverknown.
Andthat,too,founditswayintomyreluctancetoreturntotheslum.Itastonishedme,andithurtme,afterallI’ddonethere,andforallthatthey’dincludedmeintheraggedskeinoftheirtoo-manylives,thattheystillexpectedmetoleavethem,withoutawordoffarewell,wheneverthewhimpossessedme.
So,whenmyhealthimprovedandIbegantoearnrealmoney,Ididn’tmovebacktotheslum.Instead,withKhaderbhai’shelp,IrentedanapartmentinColabaatthelandwardendofBestStreet,notfarfromLeopold’s.ItwasmyfirstapartmentinIndia,andmyfirstindulgenceofspaceandprivacyanddomesticluxuriessuchasahotshowerandafunctioningkitchen.Iatewell,cookinghigh-proteinandhigh-carbohydratemeals,andforcingmyselftofinishoffabucketoficecreameveryday.Iputonbodyweight.Isleptfortenhoursatastretch,nightafternight,healingmylaceratedbodywithsleep’sravellingrepair.
ButIwokeoften,withmyarmsflailing,fighting,andthewetmetalsmellofbloodstillfreshfromthenightmare.
ItrainedinkarateandweightliftingwithAbdullahathisfavouritegyminthefashionablesuburbofBreachCandy.Twootheryounggangsters-SalmanMustaanandhisfriendSanjay,whomI’dmetatmyfirstvisittoKhader’scouncil-oftenjoinedus.
Theywerestrong,healthymenintheirlate-twentieswholikedtofightaboutasmuchastheylikedsex,andtheylikedsexjustfine.Sanjay,withhismovie-starlooks,wasthejoker.Salmanwasquieterandmoreserious.Althoughinseparablefriendssincechildhood,theywereashardononeanotherintheringastheywerewhentheyboxedAbdullahandme.Weworkedoutfivetimeseachweek,withtwodaysofftoallowourtornandswollenmusclestorecover.Anditwasgood.Ithelped.PumpingironisZenforviolentmen.Littlebylittle,mybodyregaineditsstrength,muscularshape,andfitness.
ButnomatterhowfitIbecame,Iknewthatmymindwouldn’theal,couldn’theal,untilIfoundoutwho’darrangedwiththepolicetohavemepickedupandsenttoArthurRoadPrison.Ineededtoknowwhodidit.Ineededtoknowthereason.Ullawasgonefromthecity-inhiding,somesaid,butno-onecouldguessfromwhom,orwhy.Karlawasgone,andno-onecouldtellmewhereshewas.Didierandseveralotherfriendswerediggingaroundforme,tryingtofindthetruth,buttheyhadn’tfoundanythingthatmighttellmewho’dsetmeup.
Someonehadarrangedwithseniorcopstohavemearrested,withoutcharge,andimprisonedatArthurRoad.Thesamepersonhadarrangedtohavemebeaten-severelyandoften-whileIwasintheprison.Itwasapunishmentoranactofrevenge.
Khaderbhaihadconfirmedthatmuch,buthecouldn’torwouldn’tsaymore,excepttotellmethatwhoeveritwaswho’dsetmeuphadn’tknownthatIwasontherun.Thatinformation,abouttheescapefromAustralia,hademergedfromtheroutinefingerprintcheck.Thecopsconcernedhadrealised,atonce,thattheremightbeprofitinkeepingquietaboutit,andthey’dshelvedmyfileuntilVikramapproachedthemonKhader’sbehalf.
“Thosefuckin’copslikedyou,man,”VikramtoldmeaswesattogetherinLeopold’soneafternoon,afewmonthsafterI’dstartedworkwithKhaledasacurrencycollector.
“U-huh.”
“No,really,theydid.That’swhytheyletyougo.”
“Ineversawthatcopbeforeinmylife,Vikram.Hedidn’tknowmeatall.”
“Youdon’tgetit,”herepliedpatiently.HepouredanotherglassofcoldKingfisherbeer,andsippeditappreciatively.“Italkedtothatguy,thecop,whenIgotyououtofthere.Hetoldmethewholestory.See,whenthefirstguyinthefingerprintsectionfoundoutwhothefuckyoureallywere-whenyourfingerprintcheckcamebackwiththenewsthatyouwerethiswantedguy,fromAustralia-hefreakedoutonit.Hefreakedoutonhowmuchmoneyhemightget,youknow,tokeeptheshitquiet.Achancelikethatdoesn’tcomealongeveryday,na?So,withoutsayinganythingtoanyoneelse,hegoestoaseniorcopheknows,andshowshimthefilereportonyourprints.Thatcopfreaksout,too.Hegoestoanothercop-theonewesawatthejail-andshowshimthefile.Thatcoptellstheotherstokeepquietaboutit,andleaveittohimtofindouthowmuchmoneythereisinit.”
Awaiterbroughtmycupofcoffee,andchattedwithmeforawhileinMarathi.Vikramwaiteduntilwewerealoneagainbeforehespoke.
“Theyloveit,youknow,allthesewaitersandcabdriversandpostofficeguys-andthecops,too-theyloveit,alltheseguys,thatyouspeakMarathitothem.Fuck,man,I’mbornhere,andyouspeakMarathibetterthanIdo.Ineverlearnedtospeakitproperly.Ineverhadto.That’swhysomanyMarathisaresopissedoff,man.Mostofusdon’tgiveashitabouttheMarathilanguage,orwhoallcomestoliveinBombay,orwhereverthefucktheycomefrom,yaar.Anyway,wherewasI?Ohyeah,sothecophasthisfileonyou,andhe’skeepingitquiet.ButhewantstoknowmoreaboutthisAustralianfucker,whoescapedfromjail,beforehedoesanything,yaar.”
Vikramstopped,andgrinnedatmeuntilthegrinbecameaplayfullaugh.Heworeablackleathervestoverhiswhitesilkshirt,despitethethirty-five-degreeheat.Inhisheavy,blackjeansandornateblackcowboyboots,hemust’vebeenveryhot,butheseemedcool;almostascoolashelooked.
“It’sfuckin’great,man!”helaughed.“Youbustedoutofamaximum-securityjail!Fuckin’deadly!It’sthegreatestthingIeverheard,Lin.It’stearingmyheartoutthatIcan’ttellanyoneaboutit.”
“DoyourememberwhatKarlasaidaboutsecrets,whenweweresittinghereonenight?”
“No,man.Whatwasit?”
“Itisn’tasecret,unlesskeepingithurts.”
“That’sprettyfuckin’good,”Vikrammused,grinning“SowherewasI?I’mlosingittoday,man.It’sthisLettiething.It’sdrivingmeinsane,Lin.Ohyeah,thecopincharge,thecopwithyourfile,hewantstodosomecheckingonyou.So,hesendstwoofhisguysaround,askingquestionsaboutyou.Allthestreetguysyouusedtoworkwith,theygaveyousolidsupport,man.
Theysaidyounevercheatedanyone,neverfuckedanybodyover,andyouputalotofmoneyaroundwiththepoorstreetguyswhenyouhadit.”
“Butthecopsdidn’ttellanyoneIwasinArthurRoad?”
“No,man,theywerecheckinguponyoutofindoutiftheywantedtofuckyouover,andsendyoubacktotheAustraliancops,ornot-dependingonhowyoucheckedout.Andthere’smoretoit.
Oneofthemoneychangerstellsthecops,Hey,ifyouwannaknowaboutLin,goaskinthezhopadpatti,becausehelivesthere.
Well,thecopsarenowrealintrigued,like-agora,livingintheslum.Sotheygothere,andtheytakealook.Theydon’ttellanybodyintheslumwhathappenedtoyou,buttheystartaskingaboutyou,andthepeoplesaystufflike,Youseethatclinic?
Linbuiltit,andhe’sbeenworkingthereforalongtime,helpingthepeople…Andtheysaystufflike,EverybodyherehasbeentreatedatLin’sclinic,freeofcharge,atonetimeoranother,andhedidagreatjobwhenthecholeracame…Andtheytoldthecopsaboutthatlittleschoolyoustarted,YouseethatlittleschoolforEnglish?Linstartedit…AndthecopsgetanearfulofthisLin,thisLinbaba,thisforeignguywhodoesallthisgoodshit,andtheygobacktotheirboss,tellinghimwhattheyheard.”
“Oh,comeon,Vikram!Youreallythinkthatmadeadifference?Itwasaboutmoney,that’sall,andI’mjustgladyouweretheretopayit.”
Vikram’seyeswidenedinsurprise,andthennarrowedintoadisapprovingfrown.Heliftedthehatfromhisbackandexaminedit,turningitinhishandsandflickingspecksofdustfromtherim.
“Youknow,Lin,you’vebeenhereforawhilenow,andyou’velearnedsomelanguage,andbeentothevillage,andlivedintheslum,andevenbeenthefucktojailandall,butyoustilldon’tgetit,doyou?”
“Maybenot,”Iconceded.“Probablynot.”
“Damnrightyoudon’t,man.ThisisnotEngland,orNewZealand,orAustralia,orwhereverthefuckelse.ThisisIndia,man.ThisisIndia.Thisisthelandoftheheart.Thisiswheretheheartisking,man.Thefuckin’heart.That’swhyyou’refree.That’swhythatcopgaveyoubackyourphoneypassport.That’swhyyoucanwalkaround,andnotgetpickedup,eventhoughtheyknowwhoyouare.Theycould’vefuckedyou,Lin.Theycould’vetakenyourmoney,Khader’smoney,andletyougo,andthengetsomeothercopstobustyou,andsendyouthefuckhome.Buttheydidn’tdoit,andtheywon’tdoit,becauseyougotthemintheirheart,man,intheirIndianfuckin’heart.Theylookedatallwhatyoudidhere,andhowthepeopleinthatslumloveyou,andtheythought,Well,hefuckedupinAustralia,buthe’sdonesomegoodshithere.Ifhepaysup,we’llletthefuckergo.Becausethey’reIndians,man.That’showwekeepthiscrazyplacetogether-withtheheart.Twohundredfuckin’languages,andabillionpeople.Indiaistheheart.It’stheheartthatkeepsustogether.There’snoplacewithpeoplelikemypeople,Lin.
There’snoheartliketheIndianheart.”
Hewascrying.Stunned,Iwatchedhimwipethetearsfromhiseyes,andIreachedouttoputahandonhisshoulder.Hewasright,ofcourse.EventhoughI’dbeentorturedinanIndianprison,andalmostkilledthere,Ihadbeensetfree,andtheyhadgivenmemyoldpassportwhenIlefttheprison.Isthereanyothercountryintheworld,Iaskedmyself,thatwould’veletmego,asIndiadid?AndeveninIndia,ifthecopshadcheckedonmeanddiscoveredadifferentstory-thatIcheatedIndians,say,orranIndianprostitutes,orbeatupdefencelesspeople-theywould’vetakenthemoney,andthensentmebacktoAustraliaanyway.Itwasthelandwheretheheartisking.IknewthatfromPrabaker,fromhismother,fromQasimAli,fromJoseph’sredemption.I’dknownitevenintheprison,wheremenlikeMaheshMalhotrahadtakenabeatinginordertosmugglefoodtomewhenIwasstarving.
“What’sthis?Alover’squarrel,perhaps?”Didierasked,invitinghimselftositdown.
“Oh,fuckyou,Didier!”Vikramlaughed,pullinghimselftogether.
“Ah,well,it’satouchingthought,Vikram.But,perhapswhenyouarefeelingalittlebetter.Andhowareyoutoday,Lin?”
“I’mfine,”Ismiled.Didierwasoneofthreepeoplewho’dburstintotearswhentheysawme,flesh-witheredandstillrippedwithcutsandwounds,soonaftermyreleasefromArthurRoadPrison.
ThesecondwasPrabaker,whoseweepingwassoviolentthatittookmeafullhourtoconsolehim.Thethirdperson,unexpectedly,waslordAbdelKhader,whoseeyesfilledwithtearswhenIthankedhim:tearsthatflowedonmyneckandshoulderwhenhehuggedme.
“What’llyouhave?”Iaskedhim.
“Oh,verykind,”hemurmured,purringwithpleasure.“IbelievethatIwillbeginwithaflaskofwhisky,andafreshlime,andacoldsoda.Yes.Thatwillbeagoodcommencement,no?Itisverystrange,andaveryunhappybusiness,don’tyouthink,thisnewsaboutIndiraGandhi?”
“Whatnews?”Vikramasked.
“Theyaresayingonthenews,justnow,thatIndiraGandhiisdead.”
“Isittrue?”Iasked.
“Ifearthatitis,”hesighed,suddenlyanduncharacteristicallysolemn.“Thereportsarenotconfirmed,butIthinkthereisnodoubt.”
“WasittheSikhs?WasitbecauseofBluestar?”
“Yes,Lin.Howdidyouknow?”
“WhenshestormedtheGoldenTemple,togetBhindranwale,Ihadafeelingitwasgoingtocatchupwithher.”
“Whathappened?DidtheKLFdoit?”Vikramasked.“Wasitabomb?”
“No,”Didieranswered,gravely.“Theysayitwasherbodyguards-herSikhbodyguards.”
“Herownbodyguard,forfuck’ssake!”Vikramgasped.Hismouthgapedopen,andhisgazedriftedonthetideofhisthoughts.
“Guys-I’llbebackinaminute.Doyouhearthat?They’retalkingaboutthestory,rightnow,ontheradio,atthecounter.
I’llgoandlisten,andcomeback.”
Hejoggedtothecrowdedcounterwherefifteenortwentymenpressedtogether,armsaroundshoulderstolisten,whileanalmosthystericalannouncergavedetailsofthemurderinHindi.
Vikramcould’velistenedtothebroadcastfromhisseatatourtable-thevolumewasswitcheduptothemaximum,andweheardeveryword.Itwassomethingelsethatdrewhimtothecrowdedcounter:asenseofsolidarityandkinship;ahuddledneedtofeeltheastoundingnews,throughcontactwithhiscountrymen,evenashelistenedtoit.
“Let’shavethatdrink,”Isuggested.
“Yes,Lin,”Didieranswered,poutingwithhislowerlip,andofferingaflourishofhishandtodismissthedistressingsubject.Thegesturefailed.Hisheadlolledforward,andhestaredvacantlyatthetableinfrontofhim.“Ican’tbelieveit.Itissimplynotbelievable.IndiraGandhi,dead…Itisalmostunthinkable.Itisalmostimpossibletoforcemyselftothinkofit,Lin.Itis…youknow…impossible.”
IorderedforDidier,andletmythoughtswanderwhilewelistenedtotheplaintivescreechoftheradioannouncer.
Selfishly,Iwonderedfirstwhattheassassinationmightmeanformysecurity,andthenwhatitmightdototheexchangeratesontheblackmoneymarket.Somemonthsbefore,IndiraGandhihadauthorisedanassaultontheSikhholy-of-holies,theGoldenTemple,inAmritsar.Hergoalwastodriveoutalarge,wellarmedcompanyofSikhmilitantswho’denteredthetempleandfortifiedthemselvesthereundertheleadershipofahandsome,charismaticseparatistnamedBhindranwale.Usingthetemplecomplexasabase,themilitantshadlaunchedpunitiveattacksagainstHindus,andthosetheydescribedasrecalcitrantSikhs,formanyweeks.IndiraGandhi,ontheeveofafiercelycontestedgeneralelection,hadbeendeeplyconcernedthatshewouldappearweakandindecisiveifshefailedtoact.Inwhatmanyjudgedtobetheworstofheradmittedlylimitedoptions,IndirahadsentthearmyintobattlewiththeSikhrebels.
ThearmyoperationtodislodgethemilitantsfromtheGoldenTemplewasknownasOperationBluestar.Bhindranwale’smilitants,believingthemselvestobefreedomfightersandmartyrsfortheSikhcause,metthearmyforcewithrecklessanddesperateresistance.Morethansixhundredliveswerelost,andmanyhundredsofpeoplewereinjured.Intheend,theGoldenTemplecomplexwascleared,andIndiraemergedasanythingbutindecisiveorweak.HergoalofreassuringtheHinduheartlandofvotershadbeenachieved,buttheSikhstruggleforaseparatehomeland,calledKhalistan,wasrichinnewmartyrs.Andacrosstheworld,Sikhheartsclenchedaroundtheirdeterminationtoavengetheprofaneandbloodyinvasionoftheirholiestshrine.
Theradioatthecountergaveusnootherdetails,butthemessagewailedfromthespeakerthatshe’dbeenmurdered.OnlyafewmonthsafterBluestar,Indira’sownSikhbodyguardshadkilledher.Thewomanwho’dbeenreviledasadespotbysome,adoredasthemotherofthecountrybymanyothers,andsocloselyidentifiedwiththenationastobeindistinguishablefromitspast,andfromitsdestiny,wasgone.Shewasdead.
Ihadtothink.Ihadtocalculatethedanger.Securityforcesacrossthecountrywouldbeonspecialalert.Therewouldberamifications-riots,killings,looting,andburning,asrevengeexactedontheSikhcommunitiesforhermurder.Iknewit.
EveryoneinIndiaknewit.Ontheradio,theannouncerwastalkingabouttroopdeploymentsinDelhiandinPunjabaimedatquellinganticipateddisturbances.Thetensionwouldbringnewdangersforme,awantedman,workingforthemafia,andlivinginthecountrywithanexpiredvisa.Forafewmoments,sittingthereasDidiersippedhisdrink,asthemenintherestaurantstrainedinsilencetolisten,andtheearlyeveningblushedourskinwithrose-gold,myheartthumpedwithfear.Run,mythoughtswhispered.Runnow,whileyoucan.Thisisyourlastchance…
Buteventhen,asIformedtheclearthoughttofleethecity,Ifeltmyselfrelaxingintoadense,fatalisticcalm.Iwouldn’tleaveBombay.Icouldn’tleaveBombay.Iknewthat,assurelyasI’deverknownanythinginmylife.TherewastheissueofKhaderbhai:myfinancialdebttohimhadbeenrepaidfromthewagesI’dmadeinhisservicewithKhaled,buttherewasamoraldebtthatwashardertorepay.Iowedhimmylife,andwebothknewit.He’dhuggedmewhenIcameoutoftheprisonand,cryingatmypitifulstate,he’dpromisedmethatforsolongasIremainedinBombay,Iwouldbeunderhispersonalprotection.
NothinglikeArthurRoadwouldeverhappentomeagain.He’dgivenmeagoldmedalfeaturingtheHinduaumsymboljoinedtoaMuslimcrescentandstar,whichIworeonasilverchainaroundmyneck.Khaderbhai’snamewasinscribedontheback,inUrdu,Hindi,andEnglish.IntheeventoftroubleIwastoshowthemedal,andaskthathebecontactedatonce.Thatsecuritywasimperfect,butitwasbetterthananythingI’dknownsincemyexilehadbegun.Hisrequestformetostayinhisservice,theunspokendebtthatIowedhim,andthesafetythatbeingKhader’smanoffered-allofthoseelementsheldmeinthecity.
AndtherewasKarla.She’ddisappearedfromthecitywhileIwasinprison,andno-oneknewwhereshe’dgone.IhadnoideawhereinallthewideworldImightbegintolookforher.ButshelovedBombay.Iknewthat.Itseemedreasonabletohopeshemightreturn.AndIlovedher.Itgrievedme-anemotionthatwas,inthosemonths,evenstrongerthanmyloveforher-thatshemustbethinkingI’dabandonedher:thatIgotwhatIwanted,whenwemadelove,andthendumpedher.Icouldn’tmoveonwithoutseeingheragain,andexplainingwhathadhappenedthatnight.SoIstayedthere,inthecity,aminute’swalkfromthecornerwherewe’dmet,andIwaitedforhertoreturn.
Iglancedaroundthesubdued,listeningrestaurant,andcaughtVikram’seye.Hesmiledatme,andwaggedhishead.Itwasaheart-brokensmile,andhiseyeswereinflamedwithunshedtears.
Still,hesmiledtocomfortme,toreassureme,toincludemeinhisbewilderedgrieving.AndwiththatsmileIsuddenlyknewthattherewassomethingelseholdingmethere.IntheendIrealisedthatitwastheheart,theIndianheartthatVikramhadtalkedabout-thelandwhereheartisking-thatheldmewhensomanyintuitionstoldmeIshouldleave.Andtheheart,forme,wasthecity.Bombay.Thecityhadseducedme.Iwasinlovewithher.
Therewasapartofmethatsheinvented,andthatonlyexistedbecauseIlivedthere,withinher,asaMumbaiker,aBombayite.
“It’safuckin’badbusiness,yaar,”Vikrammutteredasherejoinedus.“There’sgoingtobealotofbloodspilledoverthis,yaar.Ontheradio,they’resayingthatCongressPartygangsareroaminginDelhi,goingfromhousetohouse,andspoilingforafightwiththeSikhs.”
Weweresilent,allthreeofus,lostinourownspeculationsandworry.ThenDidierspoke.
“IthinkIhavealeadforyou,”hesaidsoftly,wrenchingusintothemomentoncemore.“Aboutthejail?”
“Oui.”
“Goon.”
“Itisnotmuch.Itdoesnotaddmuchtowhatyoualreadyknow-thatitwasapersonofsomepower,asyourpatron,AbdelKhader,hastoldyou.”
“Whateveritis,Didier,it’smorethanI’vegotnow.”
“Asyouwish.Thereisa…manofmyacquaintance…whomustvisittheColabapolicestationonadailybasis.Weweretalking,earliertoday,andhementionedtheforeignerwhowasinthelock-uptheresomemonthsago.ThenameheusedwastheBiteoftheTiger.Icannotimaginehowyoucametowinsuchanameforyourself,Lin,butImakeawildguessthatitisnotentirelyflattering,thestory,non?Alors,hetoldmethattheBiteoftheTiger-you-wasbetrayedbyawoman.”
“Didhegiveyouaname?”
“No.Iaskedhim,andhesaidthathedidnotknowwhosheis.Hedidsaythatsheisyoung,andverybeautiful,buthemayhaveinventedthoselastdetails.”
“Howreliableisthismanofyouracquaintance?”
Didierpursedhislips,andletoutapuffofair.
“Hecanbereliedupontolie,andcheat,andsteal.Thatistheextentofhisreliability,Iamafraid,butinthesethingshedoesshowamarvellouspredictability.However,inthiscaseIthinkhehasnoreasontolie.Ithinkyouwerethevictimofawoman,Lin.”
“Well,thatmakestwoofus,yaar.Youandmeboth,brother,”
Vikramputin.Hefinishedhisbeer,andlitoneofthelong,thin,cherootsthathesmokedasmuchforthecomplementtheymadetohiscostumeasfortheenjoymentofthesmoke.
“YouhavebeengoingoutwithLetitiaforthreemonthsnow,”
Didierobserved.Hisfrownwasirritatedandprofoundlyunsympathetic.“Whatisyourproblem?”
“Youtellme!I’mgoingoutwithherallovertheplace,andIstillcan’tgettofirstbase.I’mnotevenintheballpark.Fucktheballpark,yaar-I’mnoteveninthefuckin’zipcode.Thischickiskillin’me.Thisloveiskillin’me.She’splayinghardtoget.Andbrother,I’mhardbutnotgettingany.Iswear,I’mabouttofuckin’explode!”
“Youknow,Vikram,”Didiersaid,hiseyesshiningoncemorewithshrewdnessandgoodhumour,“Ihaveastrategythatjustmightworkforyou.”
“Didier,man,I’lltryanything.Thewaythingsare,withthisIndirathingandall,IgottagrabanychancewhileIcan.Whoknowswherewe’llallbetomorrow,na?”
“Yes,well,attention!Thisplan,itinvolvesgreatdaring,andcarefulplanning,andaprecisetiming.Ifyouarecareless,itmightcostyouyourlife.”
“My…mylife?”
“Yes.Makenomistake.Butifyousucceed,Ithinkyouwillwinherheartforever.Areyou,howdotheysayit,areyougame,totryit?”
“I’mthegame-iestmotherfuckerinthewholedamnsaloon,yaar.
Let’shearit!”
“Imighttakethisasmycuetoleave,beforeyouguysgettoodeepintothis,”Iinterrupted,standingandshakinghandswithbothmen.“Thanksforthetip,Didier.Iappreciateit.Andatipforyou,Vikram-whateveryouplantotrywithLettie,youcanstartbylosingthephrasehot-tittyEnglish_chick.Everytimeyoucallherthat,shewinceslikeyoujuststrangledababyrabbit.”
“Youreallythinkso?”heasked,frowninghispuzzlement.
“Yes.”
“Butit’soneofmybestlines,yaar.InDenmark-”
“You’renotinDenmarkanymore,Toto.”
“Okay,Lin,”heconceded,laughing.“Listen,whenyoufindoutwhatwentdownwiththejailthing…Imean,whothemotherfuckerwaswhoputyouinthere,andall…well,ifyouneedahand,countmein.Okay?”
“Sure,”Isaid,enjoyingthegoodeyecontact.“Takeiteasy.”
Ipaidthebillandleft,walkingalongtheCausewaytoRegalCinemaroundabout.Itwasearlyevening,oneofthethreebesttimesofdayinBombaycity.Earlymorningbeforetheheat,andlatenightaftertheheatarespecialtimesofday,withspecialpleasures;butthey’requiettimes,withfewpeople.Eveningbringsthepeopletotheirwindows,balconies,anddoorways.
Eveningfillsthestreetswithstrollingcrowds.Eveningisanindigotentforthecircusofthecity,andfamiliesbringchildrentotheentertainmentsthatinspireeverycornerandcrossroad.Andeveningisachaperoneforyounglovers:thelasthouroflightbeforethenightcomestostealtheinnocencefromtheirslowpromenades.There’snotime,inthedayornight,whentherearemorepeopleonthestreetsofBombaythanthereareintheevening,andnolightlovesthehumanfacequitesomuchastheeveninglightinmyMumbai.
Iwalkedthroughtheeveningcrowds,lovingthefaces,lovingtheperfumesofskinandhair,lovingthecoloursofclothesandthecadencesofwordsthatsurroundedme.YetIwasalone,toomuchalonewithmyloveofeveninginthecity.Andallthewhileablacksharkslowlycircledintheseaofmythoughts:ablacksharkofdoubtandangerandsuspicion.Awomanbetrayedme.Awoman.Ayoungandverybeautifulwoman…
Thepersistentblaringofacarhorndrewmyattention,andIsawPrabakerwavingtomefromhistaxi.IgotintothecabandaskedhimtodrivemetomyeveningmeetingwithKhaled,nearChowpattyBeach.OneofthefirstthingsI’ddonewiththefirstrealmoneyI’dmadeinKhaderbhai’sservicewaspayforPrabaker’staxilicence.ThecostofthelicencehadalwaysbeenprohibitiveforPrabaker,andithadeludedhissub-miniaturetalentforthrift.
HedroveoccasionalshiftsinhiscousinShantu’staxiwithouttherequiredlicence,butranconsiderablerisksindoingit.
Withhisownlicence,hewasfreetoapproachanyofthetaxilordswhoownedfleetsofcabsandhiredthemouttolicensedtaxidrivers.
Prabakerwasahardworkerandanhonestman;but,morethanthat,hewasthemostlikablemanthatmostofthosewhoknewhimevermet.Eventhehard-nosedtaxilordsweren’timmunetohissanguinecharm.Withinamonthhehadasemi-permanentlease’onataxi,whichhecaredforasifitwashisown.Onthedashboardhe’dinstalledaplasticshrinetoLakshmi,thegoddessofwealth.Thegold,pink,andgreenplasticfigureofthegoddessblazedanalarminglyfierceexpressionthroughthebulbsinherredeyeswheneverhehitthebrakesofthecar.Fromtimetotimehereachedover,withashowman’sflourish,tosqueezearubbertubeatthebaseofthefigure.Thatactionsprayed,throughwhatappearedtobeavalveinthenavelofthegoddess,apotentanddisquietinglyindustrialmixofchemicalperfumesontotheshirtandtrousersofhispassenger.Everysqueezeofthespraywasfollowedbyareflexive,polishingrubofhisbrasstaxidriver’sidentificationbadge,whichheworewithswaggeringpride.Onlyonething,inthewholecity,rivalledtheaffectionhefeltfortheblack-and-yellowFiattaxi.
“Parvati.Parvati.Parvati…”hesaid,aswespedpastChurchgateStationtowardsMarineDrive.Hewasdrunkonthemusicofhername.“Ilovehertoomuch,Lin!Islove,yes,whenaterriblefeelingmakesyouhappy?Whenyouworryaboutagirl,moreeventhanyouworryaboutyourtaxi?That’salove,isn’tit?Agreatlove,isn’tit?MyGod!Parvati.Parvati.Parvati…”
“It’slove,Prabu.”
“AndJohnnyhasittoomuchloveforSita,myParvatihersister.
Toomuchlove.”
“I’mhappyforyou.AndforJohnny.He’sagoodman.You’rebothgoodmen.”
“Oh,yes!”Prabakeragreed,slappinghishandonthehornafewtimesforemphasis.“Wearefinefellows!Andtonightwearegoingoutforatripledates,withthesisters.Itwillbetoomuchfun.”
“There’sanothersister?”
“Another?”
“Yeah-yousaidatripledate.Aretherethreesisters?Ithoughttherewereonlytwo.”
“Yes,Lin,absolutelyonlytwosisters.”
“Well,don’tyoumeanadoubledate?”
“No,Lin.ParvatiandSita,theyalwaysbringtheirmummy,thewifeofKumar,Mrs.Patak.Thegirls,theyaresittingononesideonly,andMrs.NanditaPatak,sheissittinginmiddle,andJohnnyCigariswithme,sittingontheotherside.Itisatripledate.”
“Itsounds…like…alottafun.”
“Yes,fun!Ofcoursefun!Somuchoffun!AndwhenweofferitsomefoodsandsomedrinkstoMrs.Patak,wecanlookatthegirls,andtheycanlookatusalso.Thisisoursystem.Thisishowwesmileatthegirlsandgivethembigwinkswithoureyes.
WearehavingsuchgoodluckthatMrs.Patak,shehasahappyappetites,andshewilleat,withoutstopping,forthreehoursinamovie.Sothereisaveryconstantpassingoffoods,andplentyoflookingatthegirls.AndMrs.Patak-thankstotheGod,itisimpossibletofillupthatwomaninonemovieonly.”
“Hey,slowdown…thatlookslikea…ariot.”
Amobofpeople,hundreds,thousands,streamedaroundacornerandontowideMarineDrive,somethreehundredmetresinfrontofus.Theyadvancedtowardusacrossthewholewidthofthestreet.
“Notariots,Linbaba,”Prabakerreplied,slowingthecabtoastop.“Riotnahin,morchahain.”It’snotariot,it’sademonstration.Itwasclearthatthepeoplewerepassionatelyangry.Themenandthewomenshooktheirfistsintimewiththeirfuriouschanting.
Theiranguishedfacesstiffenedonnecksandshouldersmaderigidwiththeirrage.TheychantedaboutIndiraGandhi,andaboutrevenge,andaboutthepunishmentstheywantedtovisitupontheSikhs.Itensedastheynearedus,butthehumantorrentpartedforthecab,andthensweptaroundandbeyonduswithoutsomuchasthescrapeofasleeveagainstthesideofthecar.
Nevertheless,theeyesthatlookedinuponuswerehate-strickenandcruel.IknewthatifIwereaSikh,ifI’dbeenwearingaSikhturbanorSardarjiscarf,thedoorwould’vebeenwrenchedopen.
Asthecrowdpassedusandtheroadaheadbecameclear,IturnedtoseethatPrabakerwaswipingtearsfromhiseyes.Hefumbledinhispocketforahandkerchief,draggingahuge,red-checkedsheetoutatlast,anddabbingathiseyeswithit.
“Itisatoomuchverysadsituations,Linbaba,”hesniffed.
“ThatistheendofShe.WhatistobecomeofourIndianow,withoutShe?Iamaskingmyself,andnothavingmuchofanswers.”
ShewasoneofthemostcommonnamesforIndira:journalists,peasants,politicians,andblackmarketersallreferredtoherasShe.
“Yeah.It’samess,Prabu.”
HeseemedsodistraughtthatIsatwithhiminsilence,forawhile,staringoutmywindowtowardthedarkeningsea.WhenIturnedtolookathimoncemore,Isawthathewaspraying,withhisheadbowedforwardandhishandspressedtogetheratthebaseofthesteeringwheel.Iwatchedhislipstwitchandrippleinthewhisperedprayer,andthenheopenedhishands,turnedhishead,andsmiledatme.Hiseyebrowsroseandfelltwiceasheheldthehugesmile.
“So,Lin,howisaboutsomesexyperfumes,onyourgoodself?”heasked,reachingacrosstopressthebulbbeneaththeplasticLakshmigoddessonthedashboardofhiscab.
“No!”Ishrieked,tryingtostophim.
Toolate.Hecrushedthebulb,andaswirlingbelchofthenoxiouschemicalmixturespurtedfromthebellyofthegoddessandsettledonmytrousersandmyshirt.
“Now,”hegrinned,startingtheengineandpullingoutontoMarineDriveagain,“wearereadyforthelifeagain!Wearetheluckyfellows,isn’tit?”“Sureitis,”Igrumbled,gaspingforacleanbreathofairattheopenwindow.Afewminuteslaterwenearedthecarpark,whereI’darrangedtomeetKhaled.“Youcanletmeoutjusthere,Prabu.Thisismystop,nearthatbigtree.”
Heparkedbesideatalldatepain,andIclimbedout.Wefoughtoverpaymentforthecabride.Prabakerrefusedthemoney,andIinsistedthathetakeit.Isuggestedacompromise.Heshouldtakethemoney,anduseittobuysomenewperfumeforhisplasticgoddess.
“Oh,yes,Linbaba!”hecried,acceptingthemoneyatlast.“Whatagoodideasyou’rehaving!IwasjustthinkingthatIhavealmostfinishedmyperfumesbottle,anditissomuchexpensivethatIdidn’twanttobuyitanothergallonanymore.NowIcanbuyabigbottle,anewbigbottle,andforweeksIcanfillupmyLakshmilikenew!Thankyou,toomuch!”
“Don’tmentionit,”Iansweredhim,laughinginspiteofmyself.
“Goodluckonyourtripledate.”
Heswungthecarawayfromthekerbandoutintothestreamoftraffic.Iheardthecarhornblaringamusicalgood-byeuntilhewasoutofsight.
KhaledAnsariwaswaitingformeinourcharteredcab,fiftymetresaway.Hesatintheback,withbothdoorsopenedforthebreeze.Iwasn’tlate,andhecouldn’thavebeenwaitingmorethanfifteenortwentyminutes,butstillthereweretencigarettebuttsonthegroundbesidetheopendoorofthecab.
Eachoneofthem,Iknew,wasanenemycrushedunderhisheel,aviolentwish,abrutalfantasyofthesufferinghewouldonedayinflictonthosehehated.
Andtheyweremany,theoneshehated.Toomany.Theimagesofviolencethatfilledhismindweresoreal,he’dtoldme,thatsometimeshewasnauseouswithit.Theangerwasanacheinhisbones.Thehatredlockedhisjaws,andmadehimgrindhisteethonthefury.Thetasteofitwasbitter,always,alldayandnight,everywakingminute,asbitterasthetasteoftheblackenedknifehe’dclampedbetweenhisteeth,asaFattahguerrilla,whenhe’dcrawledacrossbrokengroundtowardhisfirstkill.
“It’sgonnakillyou,Khaled,youknow.”
“SoIsmoketoomuch.Sowhatthefuck.Whowantstoliveforever?”
“I’mnottalkingaboutthecigarettes.I’mtalkingaboutwhat’sinsideyou,makingyouchain-smokethem.I’mtalkingaboutwhatyou’redoingtoyourselfbyhatingtheworld.Someonetoldmeoncethatifyoumakeyourheartintoaweapon,youalwaysendupusingitonyourself.”
“You’reafineonetocomeonwithalecture,brother,”hesaid,andhelaughed.Thesmalllaugh.Thesadlaugh.“You’renotexactlyFatherFuckingChristmas,Lin.”
“Youknow,Khadertoldme…aboutShatila.”
“Whatdidhetellyou?”
“That…youlostyourfamilythere.Itmust’vebeenincrediblyhardforyou.”
“Whatdoyouknowaboutit?”hedemanded.
Itwasn’tanoffensivequestion,anditwasn’taskedinanaggressiveway,buttherewastoomuchhurtinit,toomuchofhispainformetoletitgo.
“IknowaboutSabraandShatila,Khaled.I’vebeenintopoliticsallmylife.Iwasontherun,atthetime,whenithappened,butIfollowedthenewseveryday,formonths.Itwas…itwasaheartbreakingstory.”
“IwasinlovewithaJewishgirlonce,youknow?”Khaledasked.
Ididn’treply.“Shewas…shewasabeautifulgirl,andsmart,andmaybe,Idon’tknow,maybethenicesthumanbeingI’mevergonnameet.ThatwasinNewYork.Wewerestudentstogether.Herparents,theywerereformJews-theysupportedIsrael,buttheywereagainsttheoccupationoftheterritories.Iwaswiththatgirl,makinglovetoher,onthenightmyfatherdiedinanIsraeliprison.”
“Youcan’tblameyourselfforbeinginlove,Khaled.Andyoucan’tblameyourselfforwhatotherpeopledidtoyourfather.”
“Oh,sureIcan,”hesaid,offeringmethatsmall,sadsmile.
“Anyway,Iwentbackhome,andIwasjustintimefortheOctoberWar-theonetheIsraeliscalltheYomKippurWar.Wegotsmashed.ImadeittoTunis,andgotsometraining.Istartedfighting,andIkeptonfighting,allthewaytoBeirut.WhentheIsraelisinvaded,wemadeastandatShatila.Mywholefamilywasthere,andalotofmyneighboursfromtheolddays.Allofthem,allofus,wewereallrefugees,withnowhereelsetogo.”
“Wereyouevacuated,withtheotherfighters?”
“Yeah.Theycouldn’tbeatus,sotheyworkedoutatruce.Weleftthecamps-withourweapons,youknow,toshowthatweweren’tdefeated.Wemarched,likesoldiers,andtherewasalotoffiringintheair.Somepeoplegotkilledjustwatchingus.Itwasweird,likeaparadeorsomekindofbizarrecelebration,youknow?Andthen,whenweweregone,theybrokealltheirpromises,andtheysentthePhalangeintothecamps,andtheykilledalltheoldmen,andthewomen,andthechildren.Andtheyalldied.Allmyfamily.AlltheonesIleftbehind.Idon’tevenknowwheretheirbodiesare.Theyhidthem,becausetheyknewitwasawarcrime.Andyouthink…youthinkIshould_letitgo,Lin?”
Wewerefacingthesea,lookingdownonasectionofChowpattyBeachfromacarparkonthesteepriseaboveMarineDrive.
Beneathusthefirstwaveoffamilies,andcouples,andyoungmenoutforthenighttriedtheirluckatthrowingdartsorshootingballoonspinnedtoatarget.Theicecreamandsherbet-drinkvendorscalledoutfromtheirflamboyantlydecoratedbowerslikebirdsofparadisesingingformates.
ThehatredthathadcoiledaroundKhaled’sheartwastheonlythingweeverarguedabout.I’dbeenraisedamongJewishfriends.
Melbourne,thecitywhereIgrewup,hadahugeJewishcommunity,manyofthemHolocaustsurvivorsandtheirchildren.MymotherhadbeenprominentinFabiansocialistcircles,andshe’dattractedleft-leaningintellectualsfromtheGreek,Chinese,German,andJewishcommunities.ManyofmyfriendshadattendedaJewishschool,Mt.ScopusCollege.Igrewupwiththosekids,readingthesamebooks,enjoyingthesamemoviesandmusic,marchingtogetherinsupportofthesamecauses.Someofthosefriendswereamongthefewwho’dstoodbymewhenmylifeimplodedinagonyandshame.ItwasaJewishfriend,infact,who’dhelpedmetoescapefromAustraliaafterIbrokeoutofprison.Irespected,admired,andlovedallofthosefriends.AndKhaledhatedeveryIsraeli,andeveryJewintheworld.
“ItwouldbelikemehatingallIndians,justbecausesomeIndianstorturedmeinanIndianprison.”Isaidsoftly.
“It’snotthesame.”
“I’mnotsayingit’sthesame.I’mtryingto…look,whentheyhadmechainedtothewallthere,atArthurRoad,andtheywenttoworkonme,itwentonforhours.Afterawhile,allIcouldsmellandtastewasmyownblood.AllIcouldhearwasthelathisrippingintome.”
“Iknow,Lin-”
“No,letmefinish.Therewasaminute,rightinthemiddleofit,thatwas…soweird…itwaslikeIwasfloating,outsidemyself,lookingdownatmyownbody,andatthem,andwatchingeverythingthatwasgoingon.And…Igotthisweirdfeeling…thisreallystrangekindofunderstanding…ofeverythingthatwashappening.Iknewwhotheywere,andwhattheywere,andwhytheyweredoingit.Iknewitallreallyclearly,andthenIknewthatIhadtwochoices-tohatethemortoforgivethem.And…Idon’tknowwhy,orhow,butitwasabsolutelycleartomethatIhadtoforgivethem.Ihadto,ifIwantedtosurvive.Iknowitsoundscrazy-”
“Itdoesn’tsoundcrazy,”hesaidflatly,almostregretfully.
“Itstillseemscrazytome.Ihaven’treally…figureditout,yet.Butthat’sexactlywhathappened.AndIdidforgivethem.Ireallydid.AndI’msure,somehow,thatthat’swhatgotmethroughit.Idon’tmeanthatIstoppedbeingangry-shit,ifI’dgottenfreeandgottenagun,Iprobablywould’vekilledthemall.Ormaybenot.Idon’tknow.Butthepointis,Ididforgivethem,rightthereandthen,inthemiddleofit.AndI’msurethatifIdidn’tdothat-ifI’djusthatedthem-Iwouldn’thavemadeitthroughtillKhadergotmeout.Iwould’vegoneunder.
Thehatewould’vekilledme.”
“It’sstillnotthesame,Lin.Iunderstandwhatyou’resaying,buttheIsraelisdidmoretomethanthat.Andanyway,ifIwasinanIndianprison,andtheydidthatto_me,whattheydidto_you,IwouldhateIndiansforever.I’dhatethemall.”
“ButIdon’thatethem.Ilovethem.Ilovethiscountry.Ilovethiscity.”
“Youcan’tsayyoudon’twantrevenge,Lin.”
“Idowantrevenge.You’reright.IwishIdidn’t.IwishIwasbetterthanthat.ButIonlywantitononeperson-theonewhosetmeup-notthewholenationthatshecomesfrom.”
“Well,we’redifferentpeople,”hesaidflatly,staringoutatthedistantfiresoftheoffshoreoilrefinery.“Youdon’tunderstand.Youcan’tunderstandit.”
“Iunderstandthathatekillsyou,Khaled,ifyoucan’tletitgo.”
“No,Lin,”heanswered,turningtolookatmeinthefaintlightofthecab.Hiseyesweregleaming,andtherewasabrokensmilefixedtohisscarredface.ItwassomethingliketheexpressionVikramworewhenhetalkedaboutLettie,orlikePrabaker’sfacewhenhetalkedaboutParvati.ItwasthekindofexpressionsomemenassumewhentheytalkabouttheirexperienceofGod.
“Myhateiswhatsavedme,”hesaidquietly,butwithanexcited,feverishzeal.SoftlyroundedAmericanvowelsblendedwithbreathy,aspiratedArabicinasound,avoice,thatwassomewherebetweenOmarSharifandNicholasCage.Inanothertime,anotherplace,anotherlife,KhaledAnsariwould’vereadpoetryaloud,inArabicandEnglish,movingallthosewhoheardhimtojoyandtears.“Hateisaveryresilientthing,youknow.Hateisasurvivor.Ihadtohidemyhateforalongtime.Peoplecouldn’thandleit.Theygotspookedbyit.SoIsentmyhateoutsidemyself.It’sweirdthatIwasarefugeeforyears-Istillam-andmyhatewasarefugee,justlikeme.Myhatewasoutsideme.Myfamily…theywereallkilled…rapedandbutchered…andIkilledmen…Ishotthem…Icuttheirthroats…andmyhatesurvivedoutthere.
Myhategotstrongerandharder.Andthen,Iwokeuponeday,workingforKhader,withmoneyandpower,andIcouldfeelthehatecreepingbackintome.Andit’sherenow,insideme,whereitbelongs.AndI’mglad.Ienjoyit.Ineedit,Lin.It’sstrongerthanIam.It’sbraverthanIam.Myhateismyhero.”
Heheldthatfanaticstareforamoment,andthenturnedtothedriver,whowasdozinginthefrontseatofthecar.
“Challo,bhai!”hesnapped.Let’sgo,brother!
Aminutelater,hebrokethesilencetoaskmeaquestion.
“YouheardaboutIndira?”
“Yeah.Ontheradio,atLeopold’s.”
“Khader’sguysinDelhigotthedetails.Theinsidestory.TheyphoneditthroughtousjustbeforeIcametomeetyou.Itwasprettymessy,thewayshewent.”
“Yeah?”Ireplied,stillthinkingaboutKhaled’ssongofhate.Ididn’treallycareaboutthedetailsofIndira’sassassination,butIwashappythathe’dchangedthesubject.
“Atnineo’clockinthemorning,thismorning,shewalkeddowntoasecuritygateatherresidence-theprimeminister’sresidence.
Shefoldedherhandstogetherinagreeting,youknow,forthetwoSikhbodyguardsatthegate.Sheknewthoseguys.Theywereonlythere,onduty,becausesheinsistedonit.AftertheGoldenTemple,afterBluestar,theyadvisedhernottohaveSikhsinhersecuritydetail.Butsheinsistedbecauseshecouldn’tbelievethatherloyalSikhbodyguardswouldturnagainsther.Shejustdidn’tgetit-howmuchhatredsheputinthem,whensheorderedthearmytoattacktheGoldenTemple.Anyway,sheputherhandstogetherinagreeting,andshesmiledatthem,andsaidthewordNamaste.Onebodyguard,hepulledouthisservicerevolver-itwasa.38-andfiredthreeshots.Hegotherrightintheguts,intheabdomen.Shecrumpledtothepathway.ThesecondbodyguardturnedhisStengunonher.Heemptiedthewholemagazine.Thirtyrounds.It’sanoldgun,theSten,butitpacksahellofapunchatcloserange.Atleastsevenbulletsgotherintheabdomen,threebulletswentintoherchest,andonewentthroughherheart.”
Werodeinsilenceforawhile.Iwasthefirsttospeak.
“So,howdoyouthinkthemoneymarketwillreact?”
“Ithinkit’llbegoodforbusiness,”hereplieddispassionately.
“Solongasthere’saclearlineofsuccession-asthereishere,withRajiv-anassassinationisalwaysgoodforbusiness.”
“Butthere’llberiots.They’realreadytalkingaboutgangsgoingafterSikhs.Isawamorcha,onmywayuphere.”
“Yeah,Isawit,too,”hesaid,turningtofaceme.Hiseyesweredark,almostblack,andgleamingwiththevehemenceofhiswilfulinduration.“Buteventhat’llbegoodforbusiness.Themoreriotsthereare,andthemorepeoplegetkilled,themoredemandthere’llbefordollars.We’llputtheratesuptomorrowmorning.”
“Theroadsmightbetangledup.Ifthere’smorchasorriots,itmightnotbesoeasytogetaround.”
“I’llpickyouupatyourplace,seveno’clock,andwe’llgostraighttoRajubhai’s,”hesaid,referringtothemafia’sblackmoneycountingroomintheFortarea,andtoRaju,themanwhoranit.“Theywon’tstopme.Mycarwillgetthrough.Whatareyoudoingnow?”
“Rightnow-afterwefinishthecollections?”
“Yeah.Haveyougotsometime?”
“Sure.Whatdoyouwantmetodo?”
“Dropmeoff,andkeepthecab,”hesaid,restingbackagainsttheseatandlettinghisfaceandbodysaginasighofexhaustionordejection.“Dotheroundsoftheguys.TellthemtomaketheirwaytoRajubhai’searlytomorrow.Findasmanyasyoucan,andletthemknow.Ifitgetsrealbad,we’llneedeveryone.”
“Okay.I’llgetonit.Youshouldgetsomesleep,Khaled.Youlooktired.”
“IthinkIwill,”hesmiled.“Therewon’tbemuchsleepinthenextcoupledays.”
Heclosedhiseyesforamoment,andallowedhisheadtolollandrollwiththemovementofthecar.Thenhewassuddenlyawake,sittingupright,andsniffingtheairaroundhim.
“Say,whatthefuckisthatsmell,man?Isthatsomekindofaftershaveorwhat?I’vebeengassedwithteargasthatsmelledbetterthanthat!”
“Don’task,”Ireplied,suppressingagrinthroughclenchedteeth,andrubbingatPrabaker’sperfumestainonthefrontofmyshirt.Khaledlaughed,andturnedhiseyestothestarlessdark,wherenightmetthesea.
Soonerorlater,fateputsustogetherwithallthepeople,onebyone,whoshowuswhatwecould,andshouldn’t,letourselvesbecome.Soonerorlaterwemeetthedrunkard,thewaster,thebetrayer,theruthlessmind,andthehate-filledheart.Butfateloadsthedice,ofcourse,becauseweusuallyfindourselveslovingorpityingalmostallofthosepeople.Andit’simpossibletodespisesomeoneyouhonestlypity,andtoshunsomeoneyoutrulylove.IsatbesideKhaledinthedarknessasthetaxitookustothebusinessofcrime.Isatbesidehiminthedriftofcolouredshadows,lovingthehonestyandtoughnessinhim,andpityingthehatredsthatweakenedhimandliedtohim.Andhisface,reflectedsometimesinthenightthatfilledthewindow,wasasdrenchedindestiny,andasradiant,asthefacesfoundinpaintingsofdoomedandhaloedsaints.
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CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
“Whereveryougointheworld,inanysociety,itisalwaysthesamewhenitcomestoquestionsofjustice,”lordAbdelKhaderKhan,mymafiabossandmysurrogatefather,toldmewhenI’dbeensixmonthsinhisservice.“Weconcentrateourlaws,investigations,prosecutions,andpunishmentsonhowmuchcrimeisinthesin,ratherthanhowmuchsinisinthecrime.”
Weweresittinginthebusy,steamy,wondrouslyaromaticRestaurantSaurabh,intheSassoonDockarea.TheSaurabhservedwhatmanyregardedasBombay’sbestmasaladhosas,inacitywherefivethousandrestaurantsviedforthehonour.Despitethatdistinction,orbecauseofit,theSaurabhwassmallandrelativelyunknown.Itsnamedidn’tappearinanyoftheguidebooksfortouristsortheepicurecolumnsinthedailynewspapers.Itwasaworker’srestaurant,anditwasfull,frommorninguntilevening,withworkingmenandwomenwhocherisheditandkeptitssecrettothemselves.Accordingly,themealswerecheapandthedecorwasafunctionalminimum.Nevertheless,therestaurantwasspotlesslyclean,andthespectacular,baroquesailsofthecrispydhosas,swepttothetablesbywaiterswhoworkedatarun,housedthemostdeliciousmixesofspicesthatcouldbefoundinanydish,anywhereinthecity.
“Forme,”hewentonasweate,“theoppositeistrue.Forme,themostimportantthingistheamountofsinthatisinthecrime.Youaskedme,justnow,whywedonotmakemoneyfromprostitutionanddrugs,astheothercouncilsdo,andItellyouitisbecauseofthesinthatisinthosecrimes.ItisforthisreasonthatIwillnotsellchildren,orwomen,orpornography,ordrugs.ItisforthisreasonthatIwillnotpermitthosebusinessesinanyofmyareas.Inallofthesethings,thesininthecrimeissogreatthatamanmustgiveuphissoulfortheprofithemakes.Andifamangiveshissoul,ifhebecomesasoul-lessman,ittakesnothinglessthanamiracleforhimtoregainit.”
“Doyoubelieveinmiracles?”
“Certainly,Ido.Inourhearts,weallbelieveinmiracles.”
“I’mafraidIdon’t,”Istated,smiling.
“I’msurethatyoudo,”heinsisted.“Wouldn’tyousaythatyourrescuefromtheprisonatArthurRoadwasamiracle,forexample?”
“It_feltlikeamiraculousthingatthetime,Ihavetoadmit.”
“Andwhenyouescapedfromtheprisoninyourhomecountry,Australia-wasthatnotamiraculousthing?”heaskedquietly.
Itwasthefirsttimehe’devermentionedtheescape.Iwassurethatheknew,ofcourse,andIwassurehemust’vethoughtaboutitmanytimes.ButbybroachingthesubjectwithmehewasraisingtherealnatureoftherescuefromArthurRoadPrison.
Thefactwasthathe’drescuedmefromtwoprisons-oneinIndiaandoneinAustralia-andIowedhimadoubledebt.
“Yes,”Ianswered,slowlybutsteadily.“Itwassomethingofamiracle,Iguess.”
“Ifyoudonotobject-thatis,ifyoudonotfinditpainful-IwouldlikeyoutotellmeabouttheescapefromtheprisoninAustralia.ImighttellyouthatIfindittobefascinating,formyownverypersonalreasons,andIamdeeplyimpressedbyit.”
“Idon’tmindtalkingaboutit,”Ireplied,meetinghisstare.
“Whatwouldyouliketoknow?”
“Whydidyouescape?”
Khaderbhaiwastheonlypersonwho’deveraskedmethatquestion.
PeopleinAustraliaandNewZealandhadaskedmeabouttheescape.They’dwantedtoknowhowIbrokeoutoftheprison,andhowIstayedontherun.ButonlyKhaderaskedmewhyIescaped.
“Therewasapunishmentunitintheprison.Theguardswhoranit–notallofthem,butenoughofthem-werecrazy.Theyhatedus.
Theywereinsanewithhatefortheprisoners.Idon’tknowwhy.Ican’texplainit.That’sjusthowitwasdowntherethen.Andtheytorturedus,nearlyeverynight.AndIfoughtback.Ihadtofightthem.It’smynature,Iguess.It’sjusthowIam.I’mnotthekindofmanwhocouldtakeitfromthem,withoutfightingback.Whichmadeitallworse,ofcourse.Igot…well,theywenttoworkonme,anditwas…prettybad.Iwasonlydownthere,inthatpunishmentunit,foralittlewhile.ButIhadalongsentence,andIknewthatsoonerorlaterthey’dfindareasontoputmedownthereagain,orI’dbestupidenoughtogivethemone-itwasn’thard,believeme.Ithoughtthatwhentheydidgetmethereagain,whentheygottheirhandsonme,they’dtorturemeagain,andI’dfightthemagain,andthey’dprobablykillme.So…Iescaped.”
“Howdidyoudoit?”
“Afterthatlastbeating,Iletthemthinkthey’dbrokenmyspirit.Sotheygavemethekindofjobthatonlybeatenmenwereallowedtodo.Theygavemeajobnearthefrontwalloftheprison,pushingawheelbarrowandmakingrepairs.Whenthetimewasright,Iescaped.”
HelistenedasItoldhimthestory.WecontinuedtoeatwhileItalked.Khaderneverinterrupted.Hewatchedmethroughout,andthesmilinglightinhiseyesreflectedthefireinmine.Heseemedtoenjoythetellingofthestoryasmuchasthetaleitself.
“Whowastheotherman-theonewithyou,whenyouescaped?”
“Theotherguywasdoingtimeformurder.Hewasagoodman,withplentyofheart.”
“Butyoudidnotstaytogether?”
“No,”Ianswered,allowingmygazetoshiftfromKhader’sforthefirsttime.Ilookedatthedoorwayoftherestaurant,andwatchedtherhythmic,unceasingflowofpeopleonthestreet.HowcouldIexplainmyreasonsforleavingmyfriendaftertheescape,andgoingoffonmyown?Ihardlyunderstooditmyself.Idecidedtogivehimthefacts,andlethimmakeofthemwhathewould.
“Atfirst,wewenttostaywithanoutlawbikeclub-agangofmenwhorodemotorcycles.Theleaderofthemotorcycleganghadayoungbrotherwhowasintheprison.Hewasabraveyoungkid,andaboutayearbeforeIescapedhe’dupsetaverydangerousmanbydoingnothingmorethanbeingbrave.Igotinvolved,andIsavedthekidfrombeingkilled.Whenthekidfoundoutaboutit,hetoldhisbrother.Theolderbrother,whowasthepresidentofthemotorcyclegang,hadletmeknowthatheowedmeone.WhenIescaped,Iwenttostaywiththeolderbrotherandhisgang,andItookmyfriendwithme.Theygaveusguns,drugs,andmoney.
Theyprotectedusandgaveusshelter,forthefirstthirteendaysandnights,whilethecopstorethecityuplookingforus.”
Ipaused,moppingupthelastofmyfoodwithacornerofpeaflourroti.Khaderbhaiatethelastofthefoodonhisownplate.Wechewedvigorously,watchingoneanotherwiththoughtsandquestionsglitteringinoureyes.
“Onthethirteenthnightaftertheescape,whenIwasstillhidingwiththemotorcyclegang,Igotthisoverwhelmingurgetovisitamanwhousedtobemyteacher,”Icontinuedatlast.“Hewasalecturerinphilosophyatauniversityinmycity.HewasaJewishintellectual,abrilliantguy,andveryhighlyrespectedinthecitywhereIgrewup.Butbrilliantandallashewas,Istilldon’tknowwhyIwenttoseehim.Ican’texplainit-Idon’treallyunderstandit,evennow.Ijusthadtospeaktohim.
Thefeelingwassostrong,Icouldn’tfightitit.SoIwentacrossthecity,riskingmylifetoseehim.Hesaidthathe’dexpectedtoseeme,andthathewaswaitingformetocometohim.HetoldmethatIhadtogiveupmyguns,firstofall.HetriedtoconvincemethatIwouldn’tneedthem,andthatthey’dbringmegriefifIdidn’tgetridofthem.HetoldmethatIhadtogiveupthecrimeofarmedrobbery,andnevercommititagain.
HesaidthatI’dpaidmyduesforthecrimesI’dcommitted,butthatifIeverdidthatcrimeagainIwouldbekilledorcapturedstraightaway.Whateverelseyouhavetodotostayfree,hesaid,don’teverdothatcrimeagain.Hetoldmetosplitfrommyfriend,becausehewassuretogetcaught,andifIwaswithhimI’dbecaught,too.Andhetoldmetotraveltheworld.Tellpeopleasmuchastheyneedtoknow,hesaid.Irememberthathewassmilingwhenhesaidit,liketherewasnothingtoit.Andaskpeopleforhelp,hesaid.You’llbeallright…Don’tworry…It’sagreatadventure,yourlife,andithasonlyjustbegun…”
TherewasapauseasIlapsedintosilenceoncemore.Awaiterapproachedthetabletoclearawayouremptyplates,butKhaderwavedhimaway.Themafiadonstaredatme,hisgoldeneyesunwavering,butitwasasympatheticandencouragingstare.
“Ilefthisoffice-thephilosopher’soffice,attheuniversity-andIknewthateverythinghadchangedwithjustthatlittleconversation.Iwentbacktothemotorcyclegangandmyfriend.Igavehimmyguns,andItoldhimthatIhadtoleave.Iwentoffonmyown.Hewascaptured,sixmonthslater,afteragunbattlewiththecops.I’mstillfree,ifthatwordmeansanythingwhenyou’reawantedmanwithnowheretogo.Andthat’sit.Nowyouknowthestory.”
“Iwouldliketomeetthisman,”Khaderbhaisaidslowly.“Thislecturerinphilosophy.Hegaveyougoodadvice.Buttellme,IunderstandthatAustraliaisaverydifferentcountry,notlikeIndia-whydoyounotreturnthere,andtelltheauthoritiesaboutthetortureyouenduredintheprison?Wouldthisnotmakeyousafe,andreturnyoutoyourlifeandyourfamily?”
“WhereIcomefrom,wedon’tinformonanyone,”Ireplied.“Notevenontorturers.AndevenifIdid-evenifIwentbackthereandstoodinthedockasaCrownwitness,andgaveevidenceagainstthescrewswhotortureprisoners-there’dbenoguaranteeitwouldstop.Thesystemwouldlookafterthem.NosanemantruststheBritishjusticesystem.Whenwasthelasttimeyoueverheardofarichmanthrowinghimselfonthemercyofthecourt?Itdoesn’thappen.Thesystemwouldlookafterthetorturers,andthey’dgetawaywithit,nomatterwhattheydidandnomatterhowmuchprooftherewas.AndI’dgobackinjail.
AndI’dbeintheirpoweragain.Andthey’dmakeaprettygoodmessofme.Ithink…Ithinkthey’dkickmetodeathdownthere,inthepunishmentunit.Anyway,it’snotanoption.Youdon’tlagpeople.Youdon’tinformonpeople,notforanyreason.
It’saprinciple.It’sprobablytheonlyonewe’vegotleftwhenwegetlockedupinacage.”
“Butyoubelievethattheseprisonguardsarestilltorturingothermeninthatprison,justastheytorturedyou?”hepressed.
“Yes,Ido.”
“Andyouareinapositiontodosomethingaboutthis,totrytoalleviatetheirsuffering?”
“Imightbe.Imightnotbe.LikeIsaid,Idon’tthinkthesystemwouldbeinanyhurrytobringthemtojustice,ortorushtoourdefence.”
“Butthereisachance,justachance,thattheywouldlistentoyou,andputanendtothetortureoftheothermen?”
“There’sachance.Idon’tthinkit’sabigone.”
“Butstillthereisachance?”heinsisted.
“Yes,”Isaidflatly.
“Soitcouldbesaidthatyouareinawayresponsibleforthesufferingoftheothermen?”
Thequestionwasoffensive,buthistonewasentirelygentleandcompassionate.Istaredintohiseyes,andwassurethathemeantnooffenceorharm.ItwasKhaderwho’drescuedmefromtheIndianprison,afteralland,indirectly,fromtheAustralianprisonthatwewerediscussing.“Youcouldsaythat,”Iansweredcalmly.“Butthatdoesn’tchangetheprinciple.Youdon’ttellonpeople-notforanyreason.”
“IamnottryingtotrapyouLin,ortrickyou.Butyouwillagree,Ithink,fromthisexample,thatitispossibletodothewrongthingfortherightreasons.”Hesmiledagain,forthefirsttimesincethestoryoftheescapehadbegun.“Thiswillcomebacktous,atanothertime.Ihaveraiseditinthiswaybecauseitisaveryimportantpointabouthowwedoliveourlives,andhowweshouldliveourlives.Thereisnoneedtotalkofitnow,butthisquestionwillcomebacktousinanotherdiscussion,Iamsure,soIwouldlikeyoutorememberit.”
“Andwhataboutcurrencies?”Iasked,seizingtheopportunitytochangethesubjectawayfromme,andtowardtherulesofhismoraluniverseoncemore.“Don’tcurrenciescomeunderyourheadingofsinfullcrimes?”
“No.Notcurrencies,”hesaidfirmly.Thevoicewasdeep,thewordssurgingupwardsfromthediaphragmintothechest,andpassingthroughtherumblinggemstone-tumblerofhisthroat.Whatemergedwasatoneofvoicethatresonatedwiththehypnoticpietyofasermoner,readingfromtheKoran,evenashetalkedofhismostprofitablecrimes.
“Andgoldsmuggling?”
“No.Notgold.Notpassports.Notinfluence.”
InfluencewasKhader’seuphemismforthefullrangeofinteractionsbetweenhismafiagroupandthesocietyinwhichitthrived.Theybeganwithbribery,inascheduleofvenalitiesrangingfrominsidertradingtothesecuringofprofitabletenders.Whenbribesfailed,Khader’sinfluenceextendedtodebtcollectionandprotectionrackets,aimedatbusinessesthatoperatedintheareashecontrolled.Notleastinthespheresofhisinfluencewasintimidation,throughforceorblackmail,ofpoliticalandbureaucraticrecalcitrants.
“So,howdoyoudeterminehowmuchsinisinanyonecrime?Whojudgesthat?”
“Sinisameasureofevil,”hereplied,leaningbacktoallowthewaitertoclearawayhisplateandthecrumbsonthetableinfrontofhim.
“Okay.Howdoyoudeterminehowmuchevilisinanyonecrime?
Whojudgestheevilinit?”
“Ifyoureallywanttoknowaboutgoodandevil,we’llhaveawalk,andtalkfurther.”
Herose,andNazeer,hisconstantcompanion,roselikehisshadowandfollowedhimtothesink,tap,andmirrorhousedinanalcovethatwassetintothebackwalloftherestaurant.Theywashedtheirhandsandfaces,hawkingandspittingnoisilyintothesink,asdideveryothermanintherestaurantattheconclusionofhismeal.Whenmyturnatwashing,hawking,andspittingwascomplete,IfoundKhaderbhaitalkingwiththeowneroftheSaurabhonthefootpathoutsidetherestaurant.Whentheyseparated,theownerembracedKhaderandaskedforhisblessing.
ThemanwasaHindu,andhisforeheadborethemarkofblessinghe’dreceivedatatempleonlyhoursbefore.YetwhenKhaderbhaiheldtheman’shandsinhisown,andsoftlymumbledaMuslimblessing,thedevoutHindurespondedwithdelightandgratitude.
KhaderandIstrolledbacktowardsColaba.Stocky,ape-likeNazeerwalkedametreorsobehindus,scowlingatthestreet.AtSassoonDockwecrossedtheroadandpassedbeneaththearchatthemainentrancetotheolddockyard.Thesmellofprawns,dryinginthesuninpinkmountains,mademystomachflip,butwhenwecaughtsightoftheseathestenchwaslostinthestrongbreeze.Nearertothedockswethreadedourwaythroughcrowdsofmenpushinghandcarts,andwomencarryingbasketsontheirheads,allbearingcrushediceandaburdenoffish.Factoriesthatproducedtheiceandprocessedthefishaddedtheirindustriousclangourtothewailingofauctioneersandsalesmen.Attheedgeofthedockitself,thereweretwentylarge,woodenfishingboats,builttothesamedesignsusedforvesselsthathadsailedtheArabianSea,ontheMaharashtriancoastofIndia,fivehundredyearsbefore.Hereandtherebetweenthemwerelarger,moreexpensivemetalboats.Thecontrastbetweenthoserusted,gracelesshulksandtheelegantwoodenboatsbesidethemspokeahistory,amodernsaga,aworldstorythatmovedfromlifeatsea,asaromanticcalling,totheprofiteer’scold,efficientlustingforthebottomline.
Wesatonawoodenbenchinaquiet,shadedcornerofthedockwherefishermensometimesrestedtoshareameal.Khaderstaredatthevessels,whichwereshiftingandgenuflectingattheirmooringsonthelappingtide.
Hisshorthairandbeardwerealmostwhite.Thetight,unblemishedskinofhisleanfacewastannedtothecolourofsun-ripenedwheat.Ilookedattheface-thelong,finenoseandwidebrowandupwardcurvinglips-andwondered,notforthefirsttime,andnotforthelast,ifmyloveforhimwouldcostmemylife.Nazeer,everwatchful,stoodnearusandscannedthedockwithagloweringexpressionthatapprovedofnothingintheworldbutthemanwhosatbesideme.
“Thehistoryoftheuniverseisahistoryofmotion,”Khaderbegan,stilllookingattheboatsnoddingtogetherlikehorsesinharness.“Theuniverse,asweknowit,inthisoneofitsmanylives,beganinanexpansionthatwassobig,andsofastthatwecantalkaboutit,butwecannotinanytruthunderstandit,orevenimagineit.ThescientistscallthisgreatexpansiontheBigBang,althoughtherewasnoexplosion,inthesenseofabomb,orsomethinglikethat.Andthefirstmomentsafterthatgreatexpansion,fromthefirstfractionsofattoseconds,theuniversewaslikearichsoupmadeoutofsimplebitsofthings.Thosebitsweresosimplethattheywerenotevenatomsyet.Astheuniverseexpandedandcooleddown,theseverytinybitsofthingscametogethertomakeparticles.Thentheparticlescametogethertomakethefirstoftheatoms.Thentheatomscametogethertomakemolecules.Thenthemoleculescametogethertomakethefirstofthestars.Thosefirststarswentthroughtheircycles,andexplodedinashowerofnewatoms.Thenewatomscametogethertomakemorestarsandplanets.Allthestuffwearemadeofcamefromthosedyingstars.Wearemadeoutofstars,youandI.Doyouagreewithmesofar?”
“Sure,”Ismiled.“Idon’tknowwhereyou’regoingyet,butsofar,sogood.”
“Precisely!”helaughed.“Sofar,sogood.YoucancheckthescienceofwhatIamsayingtoyou-asamatteroffact,IwantyoutocheckeverythingthatIsay,andeverythingyoueverlearnfromanyoneelse.ButIamsurethatthescienceisright,withinthelimitofwhatweknow.Ihavebeenstudyingthesematterswithayoungphysicistforsometimenow,andmyfactsareessentiallycorrect.”
“I’mhappytotakeyourwordforit,”Isaid,andIwashappy,justtohavehiscompanyandhisundividedattention.
“Now,tocontinue,noneofthesethings,noneoftheseprocesses,noneofthesecomingtogetheractionsarewhatonecandescribeasrandomevents.Theuniversehasanature,forandofitself,somethinglikehumannature,ifyoulike,anditsnatureistocombine,andtobuild,andtobecomemorecomplex.Italwaysdoesthis.Ifthecircumstancesareright,bitsofmatterwillalwayscometogethertomakemorecomplexarrangements.Andthisfactaboutthewaythatouruniverseworks,thismovingtowardsorder,andtowardscombinationsoftheseorderedthings,hasaname.Inthewesternscienceitiscalledthetendencytowardcomplexity,anditisthewaytheuniverseworks.”
Threefishermendressedinlungisandsingletsapproachedusshyly.Oneofthemcarriedtwowirebasketscontainingglassesofwaterandhotchai.Anothergraspedaplatebearingseveralsweetladoo.Thelastmanheldachillumandtwogolisofcharrasinhisextendedpalms.
“Willyoudrinktea,sir?”oneofthemenaskedpolitelyinHindi.“Willyousmokewithus?”
Khadersmiled,andwaggedhishead.Themencameforwardquickly,handingglassesofchaitoKhader,Nazeer,andme.Theysquattedonthegroundinfrontofusandpreparedtheirchillum.Khaderreceivedthehonouroflightingthepipe,andItooktheseconddumm.Thepipewenttwicearoundthegroupandwastippedupcleanbythelastman,whoexhaledtheword_Kalaass…
_Finished…withhisstreamofbluesmoke.
KhadercontinuedtalkingtomeinEnglish.Iwassurethatthemencouldn’tunderstandhim,buttheyremainedwithus,andwatchedhisfaceintently.
“Tocontinuethispoint,theuniverse,asweknowit,andfromeverythingthatwecanlearnaboutit,hasbeengettingalwaysmorecomplexsinceitbegan.Itdoesthisbecausethatisitsnature.Thetendencytowardcomplexityhascarriedtheuniversefromalmostperfectsimplicitytothekindofcomplexitythatweseearoundus,everywherewelook.Theuniverseisalwaysdoingthis.Itisalwaysmovingfromthesimpletothecomplex.”
“IthinkIknowwhereyou’regoingwiththis.”
Khaderlaughed.Thefishermenlaughedwithhim.
“Theuniverse,”hecontinued,“thisuniversethatweknow,beganinalmostabsolutesimplicity,andithasbeengettingmorecomplexforaboutfifteenbillionyears.Inanotherbillionyearsitwillbestillmorecomplexthanitisnow.Infivebillion,intenbillion-itisalwaysgettingmorecomplex.Itismovingtoward…something.Itismovingtowardsomekindofultimatecomplexity.Wemightnotgetthere.Anatomofhydrogenmightnotgetthere,oraleaf,oraman,oraplanetmightnotgetthere,tothatultimatecomplexity.Butweareallmovingtowardsit-everythingintheuniverseismovingtowardsit.Andthatfinalcomplexity,thatthingweareallmovingto,iswhatIchoosetocallGod.Ifyoudon’tlikethatword,God,callittheUltimateComplexity.
Whateveryoucallit,thewholeuniverseismovingtowardit.”
“Isn’ttheuniversealotmorerandomthanthat?”Iasked,sensingthedriftofhisargument,andseekingtoheaditoff.
“Whataboutgiantasteroidsandsoon?We,Imeanourplanet,couldgetsmashedtofragmentsbyagiantasteroid.Infact,there’sastatisticalprobabilitythatmajorimpacts_willoccur.
Andifoursunisdying-andonedayitwill-isn’tthattheoppositeofcomplexity?Howdoesthatfitinwiththemovementtocomplexity,ifallthiscomplexplanetissmashedtoatoms,andoursundies?”
“Agoodquestion,”Khaderbhaireplied.Ahappysmilerevealedtherunofhisslightlygapped,ivory-creamteeth.Hewasenjoyinghimselfinthediscussion,andIrealisedthatI’dneverseenhimquitesoanimatedorenthused.Hishandsrovedthespacebetweenus,illustratingsomepointsandemphasisingothers.“Ourplanetmaybesmashed,itistrue,andonedayourbeautifulsunwilldie.Andweare,tothebestofourknowledge,themostdevelopedexpressionofthecomplexityinourbitoftheuniverse.Itwouldcertainlybeamajorlossifweweretobeannihilated.Itwouldbeaterriblewasteofallthatdevelopment.Buttheprocesswouldcontinue.Weare,ourselves,expressionsofthatprocess.
Ourbodiesarethechildrenofallthesunsandotherstarsthatdied,beforeus,makingtheatomsthat_wearemadeof.Andifweweredestroyed,byanasteroid,orbyourownhand,well,somewhereelseintheuniverse,ourlevelofcomplexity,thislevelofcomplejxity,withaconsciousnesscapableofunderstandingtheprocess,wouldbeduplicated.Idonotmeanpeopleexactlylikeus.Imeanthatthinkingbeings,thatareascomplexasweare,woulddevelop,somewhereelseintheuniverse.
_Wewouldceasetoexist,buttheprocesswouldgoon.Perhapsthisishappeninginmillionsofworlds,evenaswespeak.Infact,itisverylikelythatitishappening,allovertheuniverse,becausethatiswhattheuniversedoes.”
Itwasmyturntolaugh.
“Okay,okay.Andyouwanttosay-letmeguess-thateverythingthathelpsthisalongisgood,right?Andanythingthatgoesintheotherdirection-yourspinonitisthatit’sevil,na?”
Khaderbhaiturnedhisfullattentiononme,withoneeyebrowraisedinamusementordisapproval,orboth.ItwasanexpressionI’dseenonKarla’sfacemorethanonce.Hemight’vethoughtthatmyslightlymockingtonewasrude.Ididn’tmeanittobe.Itwasdefensive,infact,becauseIcouldn’tfindaflawinhislogic,andIwasprofoundlyimpressedbyhisargument.Perhapshewassimplysurprised.Hetoldmeonce,muchlater,thatoneofthefirstthingshelikedaboutmewasthatIwasn’tafraidofhim;andmyfearlessnessoftentookhimbysurprisewithitsimpudenceanditsfolly.Whateverthecauseforhislittlesmileandarchedeyebrow,itwassometimebeforehecontinued.
“Inessence,youareright.Anythingthatenhances,promotes,oracceleratesthismovementtowardtheUltimateComplexityisgood,”hesaid,pronouncingthewordssoslowly,andwithsuchconsideredprecision,thatIwassurehe’dspokenthephrasesmanytimes.“Anythingthatinhibits,impedes,orpreventsthismovementtowardtheUltimateComplexityisevil.Thewonderfulthingaboutthisdefinitionofgoodandevilisthatitisbothobjectiveanduniversallyacceptable.”
“Isanythingreallyobjective?”Iasked,believingmyselftobeonsurergroundatlast.
“Whenwesaythatthisdefinitionofgoodandevilisobjective,whatwemeanisthatitisasobjectiveaswecanbeatthistime,andtothebestofourknowledgeabouttheuniverse.Thisdefinitionisbasedonwhatweknowabouthowtheuniverseworks.
Itisnotbasedontherevealedwisdomofanyonefaithorpoliticalmovement.Itiscommontothebestprinciplesofallofthem,butitisbasedonwhatweknowratherthanwhatwebelieve.Inthatsense,itisobjective.Ofcourse,whatweknowabouttheuniverse,andourplaceinit,isconstantlychangingasweaddmoreinformationandgainnewinsights.Weareneverperfectlyobjectiveaboutanything,thatistrue,butwecanbelessobjective,orwecanbemoreobjective.Andwhenwedefinegoodandevilonthebasisofwhatweknow-tothebestofourknowledgeatthepresenttime-wearebeingasobjectiveaspossiblewithintheimperfectlimitsofourunderstanding.Doyouacceptthatpoint?”
“Whenyousaythatobjectivedoesn’tmeanabsolutelyobjective,thenIacceptit.Buthowcanthedifferentreligions,nottomentiontheatheistsandagnosticsandthejustplainconfused,likeme,everfindanydefinitionuniversallyacceptable?Idon’tmeantobeinsulting,butIthinkmostbelievershavegottoomuchofavestedinterestintheirownGod-and-Heavenfranchises,ifyouknowwhatImean,toeveragreeonanything.”
“Itisafairpoint,andIamnotoffended,”Khadermused,glancingatthesilentfishermensittingathisfeet.Heexchangedabroadsmilewiththemandthencontinued.“Whenwesaythatthisdefinitionofgoodandevilisuniversallyacceptable,whatwemeanisthatanyrationalandreasonableperson-anyrationalandreasanableHinduorMuslimorBuddhistorChristianorJeworanyatheist,forthatmatter-canacceptthatthisisareasonabledefinitionofgoodandevil,becauseitisbasedonwhatweknowabouthowtheuniverseworks.”
“IthinkIunderstandwhatyou’resaying,”Iofferedwhenhefellsilent.“ButIdon’treallyfollowyou,whenitcomestothe…physics,Iguess,oftheuniverse.Whyshouldweacceptthatasthebasisofourmorality?”
“IfIcangiveyouanexample,Lin,perhapsitwillbeclearer.Iwillusetheanalogyofthewaywemeasurelength,becauseitisveryrelevanttoourtime.Youwillagree,Ithink,thatthereisaneedtodefineacommonmeasureoflength,yes?”
“Youmean,inyardsandmetrss,andlikethat?”
“Precisely.Ifwehavenocommonlyagreedcriterionformeasuringlength,wewillneveragreeabouthowmuchlandisyours,andhowmuchismine,orhowtocutlengthsofwoodwhenwebuildahouse.Therewouldbechaos.Wewouldfightovertheland,andthehouseswouldfalldown.Throughouthistory,wehavealwaystriedtoagreeonacommonwaytomeasurelength.Areyouwithme,oncemore,onthislittlejourneyofthemind?”
“I’mstillwithyou,”Ireplied,laughing,andwonderingwherethemafiadon’sargumentwastakingme.
“Well,aftertherevolutioninFrance,thescientistsandgovernmentofficialsdecidedtoputsomesenseintothesystemofmeasuringandweighingthings.Theyintroducedadecimalsystembasedonaunitoflengththattheycalledthemetre,fromtheGreekwordmetron,whichhasthemeaningofameasure.”
“Okay…”
“Andthefirstwaytheydecidedtomeasurethelengthofametrewastomakeitoneten-millionthofthedistancebetweentheequatorandtheNorthPole.ButtheircalculationswerebasedontheideathattheEarthwasaperfectsphere,andtheEarth,aswenowknow,isnotaperfectsphere.Theyhadtoabandonthatwayofmeasuringametre,andtheydecided,instead,tocallitthedistancebetweentwoveryfinelinesonabarofplatinumiridiumalloy.”“Platinum…”
“Iridium.Yes.Butplatinum-iridiumalloybarsdecayandshrink,veryslowly-eventhoughtheyareveryhard-andtheunitofmeasurewasconstantlychanging.Inmorerecenttimes,scientistsrealisedthattheplatinum-iridiumbartheyhadbeenusingasameasurewouldbeaverydifferentsizein,say,athousandyears,thanitistoday.”
“And…thatwasaproblem?”
“Notforthebuildingofhousesandbridges,”Khaderbhaisaid,takingmypointmoreseriouslythanI’dintendedittobe.
“Butnotnearlyaccurateenoughforthescientists,”Ioffered,moresoberly.
“No.Theywantedanunchangingcriterionagainstwhichtomeasureallotherthings.Andafterafewotherattempts,usingdifferenttechniques,theinternationalstandardmeasureforametrewasfixed,onlylastyear,asthedistancethataphotonoflighttravelsinavacuumduring,roughly,onethree-hundred-thousandthofasecond.Now,ofcourse,thisbegsthequestionofhowitcametobethatasecondisagreeduponasameasureoftime.Itisanequallyfascinatingstory-Icantellittoyou,ifyouwouldlike,beforewecontinuewiththepointaboutthemetre?”
“I’m…happytostaywiththemetrerightnow,”Idemurred,laughingagaininspiteofmyself.
“Verywell.Ithinkthatyoucanseemypointhere-weavoidchaos,inbuildinghousesanddividinglandandsoforth,byhavinganagreedstandardforthemeasureofaunitoflength.Wecallitametreand,aftermanyattempts,wedecideuponawaytoestablishthelengthofthatbasicunit.Inthesameway,wecanonlyavoidchaosintheworldofhumanaffairsbyhavinganagreedstandardforthemeasureofaunitofmorality.”
“I’mwithyou.”
“Atthemoment,mostofourwaysofdefiningtheunitofmoralityaresimilarintheirintentions,buttheydifferintheirdetails.Sothepriestsofonenationblesstheirsoldiersastheymarchtowar,andtheimamsofanothercountryblesstheirsoldiersastheymarchouttomeetthem.Andeverybodywhoisinvolvedinthekilling,saysthathehasGodonhisside.Thereisnoobjectiveanduniversallyacceptabledefinitionofgoodandevil.Anduntilwehaveone,wewillgoonjustifyingourownactions,whilecondemningtheactionsoftheothers.”“Andyou’reputtingthephysicsoftheuniverseupasakindofplatinum-iridiumbar?”
“Well,Idothinkthatourdefinitioniscloser,initsprecision,tothephoton-secondmeasurethanitistotheplatinum-iridiumbar,butthepointisessentiallycorrect.Ithinkthatwhenwelookforanobjectivewaytomeasuregoodandevil,awaythatallpeoplecanacceptasreasonable,wecandonobetterthantostudythewaythattheuniverseworks,anditsnature-thequalitythatdefinestheentirehistoryofit-thefactthatitisconstantlymovingtowardsgreatercomplexity.Wecandonobetterthantousethenatureoftheuniverseitself.
Andalltheholytexts,fromallthegreatreligions,tellustodothis.TheHolyKoran,forexample,isoftentellingus,instructingus,tostudytheplanetsandthestarstofindtruthandmeaning.”
“Istillhavetoaskthequestion,whyusethisfactaboutthetendencytowardcomplexity,andnotsomeotherfact?Isn’titstillarbitrary?Isn’titstillamatterofchoiceastowhichfactyouchoosetouseasthebasisforyourmorality?I’mnottryingtobeobtusehere-Ireallythinkitstillseemsquitearbitrary.”
“Iunderstandyourdoubt,”Khadersmiled,raisinghiseyestothesea-skyhorizonforamoment.“I,too,feltveryscepticalwhenIfirstbeganalongthisroad.ButIamnowconvincedthatthereisnobetterwaytothinkofgoodandevil,atthistime.Thatisnottosaythatitwillalwaysbethebestdefinition.Withthemeasureofthemetre,aswell,therewillbeanother,slightlybetterwaytomeasureit,inthefuture.Asamatteroffact,thecurrentbestdefinitionusesthedistancetravelledbyaphotonoflightinavacuum,asifnothinghappensinavacuum.Butweknowthatallsortsofthingsarehappeninginavacuum.Therearemany,manyreactionstakingplaceinavacuum,allofthetime.Iamsurethatinthefutureanevenbetterwaytomeasurethemetrewillbefound.But,atthemoment,itisthebestwaythatwehave.Andwithmorality,thefactofthetendencytowardcomplexity-thatthewholeuniverseisdoingthisallthetime,andalwayshas-isthebestwaywehavetobeobjectiveaboutgoodandevil.Weusethatfact,ratherthananyother,becauseitisthelargestfactabouttheuniverse.Itistheonefactthatinvolvesthewholeuniverse,throughoutthewholeofitshistory.Ifyoucangivemeabetterwaytobeobjectiveaboutgoodandevil,andtoinvolveallthepeopleofallthefaiths,andallthenon-believers,andthewholehistoryofthewholeuniverse,thenIwouldbevery,veryhappytohearit.”
“Okay.Okay.SotheuniverseismovingalongtowardGod,ortowardsomeUltimateComplexity.Anythingthathelpsitalongisgood.Anythingthatholdsitbackisevil.Thatstillleavesmewiththeproblemofwhojudgestheevil.Howdoweknow?Howdowetellwhetheranyonethingwedowillgetusthereorholdusback?”
“Agoodquestion,”Khadersaid,standingandbrushingthecreasesfromhisloose,linentrousersandhisknee-length,whitecottonshirt.“Infact,itistherightquestion.Andattherighttime,Iwillgiveyouagoodanswer.”
Heturnedawayfrommetofacethethreefishermen,who’dstoodwithhimandwerewaitingattentively.Foramoment,IteasedmyselfwiththeconceitthatI’dstumpedhimwithmyquestion.
ButthatpridefulhopedissolvedasIwatchedhimtalkwiththebarefootfishermen.TherewassuchapodicticcertitudeinKhader’severypronouncement,suchadecisive,incontrovertibleassuranceintheman,thatitinformedandcomposedevenhisstillnessesandsilences.Iknewthattherewasananswertomyquestion.Iknewthathewouldgiveittomewhenhejudgedthetimetoberight.
Standingnearhim,Ieavesdroppedonhisconversation.Heaskedthemiftheyhadanycomplaints,iftherewasanybullyingofthepoormenonthedock.Whentheytoldhimtherewasnone,justatthattime,heaskedthemabouttheavailablework,andifthejobswerefairlydistributedamongthosewithgreatestneed.
Reassuredonthatpointaswell,heaskedthemabouttheirfamiliesandtheirchildren.ThelastoftheirconversationwasabouttheworkonSassoonDock’sfishingfleet.Theytoldhimaboutthemountainous,stormywaves,thefragileboats,thefriendsmadeatsea,andthefriendslostatsea.Hetoldthemabouttheoneandonlytimehe’dsailedthedeepwater,duringaviolentstorm,inoneofthelong,woodenfishingboats.Hetoldthemhowhe’dtiedhimselftotheboat,andhowferventlyhe’dprayeduntilthey’dsightedland.Theylaughed,andthentriedtotouchhisfeetinarespectfulgoodbye,butheliftedthembytheshouldersandshookhandswiththem,onebyone.Whenhepartedfromthem,theywalkedawaywiththeirbacksstraightandtheirheadshigh.
“HowwasyourworkwithKhaled?”Khaderaskedmewhenwewalkedbackthroughthedock.
“Verygood.Ilikehim.Ilikedworkingwithhim.I’dstillbewithhimifyouhadn’tputmetoworkwithMadjid.”
“Andhowisthat?Howisit,withourMadjid?”
Ihesitated.Karlaoncesaidthatmenrevealwhattheythinkwhentheylookaway,andwhattheyfeelwhentheyhesitate.Withwomen,shesaid,it’stheotherwayaround.
“I’mlearningwhatIneedtoknow.He’sagoodteacher.”
“But…youmadeamorepersonalconnectionwithKhaledAnsari,isn’titso?”
Itwastrue.Khaledwasangry,andtherewasapartofhisheartthatwasalwayshate-filled,butIlikedhim.Madjidwaskindandpatientandgenerouswithme,yetIhadnofeelingforhimatallbeyondavague,premonitoryunease.Afterfourmonthsintheblack-marketcurrencybusiness,KhaderbhaihaddecidedthatIshouldlearnthegold-smugglingtrade,andhe’dsentmetoMadjidRhustem.Inhishouseoverlookingthesea,amongtheaffluenteliteatJuhu,I’ddiscoveredthemanywaysinwhichgoldwassmuggledintoIndia.Khaled’sformulaofgreedandcontrolappliedtothetradeingold.Strictlyenforcedgovernmentcontrolsontheimportofgoldcrashedhead-onwithIndia’sinsatiabledemandfortheyellowmetal.
Grey-hairedMadjidcontrolledKhader’ssubstantialgoldimports,andhadbeenrunningthebusinessforalmosttenyears.Withinexhaustibleforbearance,he’dtaughtmeeverythingthathethoughtIneededtoknowaboutgoldandthesmuggler’sarts.Hisdarkeyeshadstaredatmefrombeneathhisbushygreybrows,hourafterhourinthelessons.Althoughhecommandedalargenumberofstrongmen,andcouldberuthlesswiththemwhenitwasrequired,hisrheumyeyesonlyevershowedmekindness.Still,Ifeltnothingforhimbutthatbodefuluneasiness.WhenIlefthishouse,afteranylesson,asenseofrelieffloodedintome:areliefthatwashedthesoundofhisvoiceandthesightofhisfacefrommymind,justaswatermightwashastainfrommyhands.
“No.There’snoconnection.Buthe’sagoodteacher,asIsay.”
“Linbaba,”Khaderreplied,hisdeepvoicerumblingoverthenamethattheslum-dwellersused,“Ilikeyou.”
Myfaceflushedwithemotion.Itwasasifmyownfatherhadsaidthelastthreewordstome.Andmyownfatherneverdid.Thepowerthatthosesimplewordshad-thepowerthatKhaderhadoverme-mademerealisehowneatlyandcompletelyhe’dcometofillthefather’sroleinmylife.Inmyinnermost,secretheart,asmallboythatIusedtobewaswishingthatKhaderwasmyfather-myrealfather.
“How’sTariq?”Iaskedhim.
“Tariqisverywell,nushkurAllah.”ThanksbetoGod.
“Imisshim.He’sagreatkid,”Isaid.Missinghim,Imissedmyowndaughter.Imissedmyfamily.Imissedmyfriends.
“Hemissesyou,too,”Khadersaidslowly,andwithwhatseemedtoberegret.“Tellme,Lin,whatdoyouwant?Whyareyouhere?
Whatdoyoureallywanthere,inBombay?”
Wewereapproachinghisparkedcar.Nazeerranaheadonhisshort,thicklegstoopenthedoorsandstarttheengine.KhaderandIstoodclosetogether,holdingastare.
“Iwanttobefree,”Isaid.
“Butyouarefree,”hereplied.
“Notreally.”
“AreyoutalkingaboutAustralia?”
“Yes.Notonlythat.Butmostlythat.”
“Don’tworry,”hesaid.“NothingwilleverharmyouinBombay.Igiveyoumyword.Noharmwillcometoyou,now,whileyouwearmynameonthemedalaroundyourneckandwhileyouworkforme.
Youaresafehere,Inshallah.”
Heheldbothmyhandsinhisandmurmuredablessing,justashe’ddonewiththeowneroftheSaurabh.Iwalkedhimtohiscar,watchingashestoopedtosit.SomeonehaddaubedthenameSapnaonagrubbywallnearby.Thepaintwasreasonablyfresh,nomorethanaweekold.IfKhaderhadnoticed,hegavenoindicationofit.Nazeerslammedthedoor,andranaroundtotheothersideofthecar.
“Nextweek,IwantyoutostartwithmyfriendGhanionpassports,”Khadersaid.Nazeerrevvedtheengine,awaitingtheinstructiontoleave.“Ithinkyouwillfindthepassportbusinessinteresting.”
HewassmilingatmeasNazeerdroveaway,butitwasNazeer’sscowl,behindhim,thatlingeredlongestinmymind.Themanhatedme,itseemed,andsoonerorlaterIwouldhavetosettlethematterwithhim.ItwasameasureofjusthowlostandlonelyIwas,inmyexile,thatIlookedforwardtofightinghim.HewasshorterthanIwas,buteverybitasstrong,andperhapsalittleheavier.Iknewitwouldbeagoodfight.
Ifiledthatfutureviolenceawayunderpendingandimpending,hailedacab,andmademywaytotheFortarea.Thecommercialdistrictofprinters,stationers,warehouses,andlightmanufacturers,knownsimplyastheFort,servedtheofficedistrictsthatsurroundedit.ThebuildingsandnarrowstreetsoftheFortweresomeoftheoldestinthecity.Theatmosphereofanotherage,anageofstarchedandformalcourtesies,remainedinthoselawfirms,publishinghouses,andothercerebralenterprisesthathadbeenfortunateenoughtoboastaFortaddressforseveraldecades.
OneofthenewerbusinessesintheFortwasthetravelagencyownedthroughproxiesbyKhaderbhaiandmanagedbyMadjidRhustem.TheagencyhandledthetravelarrangementsforthousandsofmenandwomenwhoworkedoncontractsintheGulfStates.Onthelegitimateside,theagencyorganisedplanetickets,visas,workpermits,andhostelaccommodationintheGulf.Ontheblackmarketside,Madjid’sagentsarrangedformostofthereturningworkerstowearfromonetothreehundredgramsofourgold,perperson,inchains,bracelets,rings,andbrooches.ThegoldarrivedintheGulfportsfrommanysources.Someofitwasobtainedinlegalbulkpurchases.Muchofitwasstolen.JunkiesandpickpocketsandhousebreakersfromalloverEuropeandAfricastolegoldjewelleryandthensoldittotheirdrugdealersandfences.Apercentageofthatgold,stoleninFrankfurtorJohannesburgorLondon,founditswaythroughblackmarketeerstotheGulfports.Khader’smeninDubai,AbuDhabi,Bahrain,andeveryotherGulfcapitalmeltedthegoldintothickbraceletsandchainsandbrooches.Forasmallfee,thecontractworkersworethegoldjewelleryontheirreturntoIndia,andourmencollecteditfromthemattheinternationalairportinBombay.
Eachyear,thetravelagencyintheFortareahandledtravelarrangementsforatleastfivethousandcontractworkers.Thegoldtheycarriedinwasre-worked,whennecessaiy,atasmallworkshopneartheagencyandthensoldthroughouttheZhaveribazaar,orjewellerymarket.TheprofitfromthatonepartofthegoldoperationwasgreaterthanfourmillionAmericandollarsayear,taxfree,andKhader’sseniormanagerswereallwealthy,well-respectedmen.
IcheckedinwiththestaffattheTransactTravelAgency.Madjidwasout,butthethreemanagerswerebusy.WhenI’dlearnedhowthegold-smugglingoperationworked,IsuggestedthatKhader’sagencyshouldcomputeriseitsfiles,andmaintainadatabaseonthecontractworkerswho’dsuccessfullycompletedonemissionforus.Khaderhadapprovedthesuggestion,andthemenwerebusytransferringhardcopypaperfilesontothecomputers.Ilookedovertheirwork,andwassatisfiedwiththeirprogress.Wetalkedforawhile,andwhenMadjiddidn’treturnIwenttolookforhimatthesmallgoldworkshopnearby.
MadjidlookedupwithasmilewhenIenteredthefactory,andthenconcentratedonthescalesoncemore.Goldchainsandbracelets,sortedintovariousgrades,wereweighedasindividualpiecesandweighedagaininlots.Theamountswereenteredintoaledgerandcrossed-checkedagainstaseparateledgerkeptforsalesintheZhaveribazaar.
Onthatday,nottwohoursafterKhaderbhaihadtalkedtomeofgoodandevil,Iwatchedtheheapsofgoldchainsandheavyhomemadebraceletsbeingweighedandcatalogued,andIfeltmyselfplungingintoadarkmoodthatIcouldn’tshakeoff.IwasgladthatKhaderbhaihaddirectedmetoleaveMadjidandtobeginworkwithAbdulGhani.Thegolden-yellowmetalthatexcitedsomanymillions,inIndia,mademeuneasy.I’denjoyedworkingwithKhaledAnsariandhiscurrencies.IknewthatIwouldenjoyworkingwithAbdulGhaniinthepassportbusiness:passportswere,afterall,themaingameforamanontherun.Butworkingwithgoldinsuchhugequantitieswasunsettling.Goldfirestheeyeswithadifferentkindandcolourofgreed.Money’salmostalwaysjustameanstoanend;but,formanymen,goldisanendinitself,andtheirloveforitisthekindofthingthatcangiveloveabadname.
IleftMadjidforthelasttime,tellinghimthatKhaderbhaihadotherworkforme.Ididn’tvolunteertheinformationthatIwassettobeginworkwithAbdulGhaniinthepassportbusiness.
MadjidandGhaniwerebothmembersofKhader’smafiacouncil.IwassuretheyknewthesubstanceofeverydecisionaffectingmebeforeIknewitmyself.Weshookhands.Hepulledmetowardhiminaclumsy,stiff-armedattemptatahug.Hesmiled,andwishedmeluck.Itwasafalsesmile,buttherewasn’tanymaliceinit.
MadjidRhustemwassimplythekindofmanwhothoughtthatsmilingwasanactofwill.Ithankedhimforhispatience,butIdidn’treturnthesmile.
WhenImademylastroundofthejewellersattheZhaveribazaar,therewasaquivering,agitatedrestlessnessinme.Itwastherandomangerthatattachesitselftoasenseoffutility:thewide-eyed,fist-clenchinganxietythatflaresupofteninawastedlife.Ishould’vebeenhappy,oratleasthappier.IhadKhader’sassuranceofsafety.Iwasmakinggoodmoney.Iworkedeverydaywithhoardsofgoldametrehigh.IwasabouttolearneverythingIneededtoknowaboutthepassportbusiness.IcouldbuywhateverIwanted.Iwasfitandhealthyandfree.Ishould’vebeenhappier.
Happinessisamyth,Karlaoncesaid.Itwasinventedtomakeusbuythings.Andasherwordsrippledonthestreamofmydarkfeelings,asIrememberedherfaceandhervoice,Ithoughtthatmaybeshewasright,afterall.ThenIrecalledthosemoments,earlierthatday,whenKhaderbhaihadspokentomeasifhewasspeakingtohisson.Andthere’dbeenhappinessinthat;Icouldn’tdenyit.Butitwasn’tenough:true,andprofound,andsomehowpureasthatfeelinghadbeen,itwasn’tstrongenoughtoliftmyspirits.
MytrainingsessionwithAbdullahthatdaywasintense.Heacceptedmytaciturnmood,andweworkedthroughthestrenuousexercise-routineinsilence.Afterashower,heofferedtogivemearidetomyapartmentonhismotorcycle.WecruisedalongAugustKrantiMargonourwayinlandfromthecoastatBreachCandy.Wehadnohelmets,andthebreezeofhotdryairstreamingthroughourhairandloosesilkshirtswasariverofwind.
Abdullah’sattentionwassuddenlytakenbyagroupofmenstandingtogetheroutsideacafe.IguessedthemtobeIranian,ashewas.Hewheeledthebikearound,andpulledupaboutthirtymetresfromthem.
“Youstayherewiththebike,”hesaid,killingtheengineandkickingoutthesidestand.Webothclimbedoff.Henevertookhiseyesoffthegroup.“Ifthereisanytrouble,youtakethebike,andleave.”
Hestrolledalongthefootpathtowardthemen,pullinghislongblackhairintoaponytailandremovinghiswatchashewalked.Isnatchedthekeysfromtheignitionofthebikeandsetoutafterhim.OneofthemensawAbdullahandrecognisedhimjustasheapproached.Hegaveawarningofsomekind.Theothermenturnedquickly.Thefightstartedwithoutaword.Theyswungwildly,flailingathim,andcrashingintooneanotherintheirfrenzytolandapunchonhim.Abdullahstoodhisground,coveringhisheadwithhisfistsheldtightlytohistemples.Hiselbowsprotectedhisbody.Whenthefuryoftheirinitialattackabated,hestruckoutleftandright,connectingwitheverypunch.Iranupandjoinedhim,draggingamanfromhisback.Itrippedtheman,forcinghimagainstthestraightedgeofmyleguntilhefell.Hetriedtotwistfreeofmygrip,anddraggedmedownwithhim.Ilandedsidewaystohisbody,withmykneeonhischest,andpunchedhiminthegroin.Hestartedtogetup,andIswungroundtohithimagain,fourorfivetimes,onthecheekandthehingeofhisjaw.
Herolledoverontohisside,andcurledhiskneesintohischest.
IlookeduptoseeAbdullahdriveoffoneofhisattackerswithatextbookrightcrossthatsplatteredtheman’snoseinasuddenexplosionofblood.IjumpeduptoputmybackagainstAbdullah’s,andshapedupinakaratestance.Thethreemenwhoremainedstandingbackedoff,unsureofthemselves.WhenAbdullahmadeachargeatthem,shoutingatthetopofhisvoice,theyturnedandran.IlookedatAbdullah.Heshookhishead.Weletthemgo.
TheIndiancrowdthathadgatheredtowatchthefightfolloweduswiththeireyeswhilewewalkedbacktothebike.Iknewthatifwe’dfoughtIndians-fromanypartofIndia,andanyethnic,religious,orclassdivide-thewholestreetwould’vejoinedinagainstus.Sincethefightwasbetweenforeigners,thepeoplewerecuriousandevenexcited,buttheyhadnodesiretogetinvolved.Aswerodepastthem,headingforColaba,theybegantodisperse.
Forhispart,Abdullahnevertoldmewhatthefightwasabout,andIneveraskedhim.Theonetimewedidtalkofit,yearslater,hetoldmethathebegantolovemeonthatday.Helovedme,hesaid,notbecauseIjoinedthefight,butbecauseIneveronceaskedhimwhatitwasabout.Headmiredthat,hesaid,morethananythingelseheeverknewaboutme.
IntheColabaCausewaynearmyhome,IaskedAbdullahtoslowdown.I’dnoticedagirlwhowaswalkingontheroad,likealocal,toavoidthecrowdsonthefootpath.Shelookeddifferent,changedsomehow,butIrecognisedtheblondehair,thelong,shapelylegs,andhip-rollwalkinstantly.ItwasLisaCarter.ItoldAbdullahtopullupjustinfrontofher.
“Hi,Lisa.”
“Ah,”shesighed,liftinghersunglassestorestthemonthetopofherhead.“It’sGilbert.How’sthingsattheembassy?”
“Oh,youknow,”Ilaughed.“Acrisishere,arescuethere.Youlookgreat,Lisa.”
HerblondehairwaslongerandthickerthanwhenI’dlastseenher.Herfacewasfullerandhealthier,butherfigurewastrimandmoreathletic.Shewaswearingawhitehalter-necktop,awhitemini-skirt,andRomansandals.Herlegsandslenderarmsweretannedtoagoldenchestnut.Shelookedbeautiful.She_wasbeautiful.
“Istoppedbeingafuck-up,andtookthecure,”shesnarled,scowlingthroughabright,falsesmile.“WhatcanItellya?It’seitheroneortheother,andyoucan’thaveitbothways.Whenyou’resoberandfit,it’stheworldthat’sfucked.”
“That’sthespirit,”Ireplied,laughinguntilshelaughedwithme.
“Who’syourfriend?”
“AbdullahTaheri,thisisLisaCarter.Lisa,thisisAbdullah.”
“Nicebike,”shepurred.
“Wouldyouliketo…rideit?”heasked,smilingwithallofhiswhite,strongteeth.
Shelookedatme,andIraisedmyhandsinagesturethatsaid,You’reonyourown,kid.Igotoffthebikeandjoinedherontheroad.
“Thisismystop,”Isaid.LisaandAbdullahwerestillstaringatoneanother.“There’safreeseat,ifyouwantit.”
“Okay,”shesmiled.“Let’sdoit.”
Shehitchedupherskirtandclimbedontothebackofthebike.
Thetwoorthreemen,outofseveralhundredonthestreet,whoweren’talreadylookingather,joinedinthechorusofstares.
Abdullahshookhandswithme,grinninglikeaschoolboy.Hekickedthebikeintogear,androaredoffintothemeanderingtraffic.
“Nicebike,”avoicebehindmesaid.ItwasGeminiGeorge.
“Notrealsafe,though,thoseEnfields,”answeredanothervoice,withastrongCanadianaccent.ItwasScorpioGeorge.
Theylivedonthestreet,sleepingindoorwaysandforagingforcommissionsamongthetouristswhowantedtobuyharddrugs.Anditshowed.Theywereunshaven,unwashed,andunkemptinappearance.Theywerealsointelligent,honest,andunconditionallyloyaltooneanother.
“Hi,guys.How’sitgoing?”
“Well,son,verywell,”GeminiGeorgeanswered,thesongofLiverpoolinhisaccent,“We’vegotaclient,youknow,ataboutsixo’clocktonight.”
“Touchwood,”Scorpioadded,hisdourfrownalreadyfocusingonthetroublestheeveningmightbring.“Shoulddoallrightoutofit,”Geminisaidcheerily.“Niceclient.Nicelittleearner.”
“Ifitallgoesokay,andnothinggoeswrong,”Scorpiomusedfretfully.
“Mustbesomethinginthewater,”Imuttered,watchingthetinywhitespeckofAbdullah’sshirt,orLisa’sskirt,disappearinthedistance.
“How’sthat?”Geminiasked.
“Oh,nothing.Just,everyoneseemstobefallinginlovelately.”
IwasthinkingofPrabaker,Vikram,andJohnnyCigar.AndIknewthelookI’dseeninAbdullah’seyesashe’driddenoff.Hewasalongwaymorethaninterested
“Funnyyoushouldmentionthat-whatdoyoumakeofsexualmotivation,Lin?”Scorpioaskedme.
“Comeagain?”
“Inamannerofspeakin’,”Geminiinnuendoed,winkingindecently.
“C’mon,beseriousforaminute,”Scorpioscolded.“Sexualmotivation,Lin-whatdoyoumakeofit?”
“What,exactly,doyoumean?”
“Well,we’rehavingadebate,youknow-”
“Adiscussion,”Geminiinterrupted.“Notadebate.I’mdiscussin’withyou,notdebatin’you.”
“We’rehavingthisdiscussion,aboutwhatitisthatmotivatespeople.”
“Igiveyoufairwarnin’,Lin,”Geminisaid,sighingmightily.
“We’vebeenhavingthisdiscussionfortwoweeks,andScorpiostillwon’tseereason.”
“AsIsaid,we’rehavingthisdiscussionaboutwhatitisthatmotivatespeople,”ScorpioGeorgepressedon,hisCanadianaccentandprofessorialmannercombininginthedocumentaryvoice-overstylethatmostirritatedhisEnglishfriend.“Y’see,Freudsaidwe’remotivatedbythedriveforsex.Adlerdisagreed,andsaidthatitwasthedriveforpower.ThenVictorFrankl,hesaidsexandpowerwereimportantdrives,butwhenyoucan’tgeteitherone-nosexandnopower-there’sstillsomethingelsethatdrivesusonandkeepsusgoin’-”
“Yes,yes,thedriveformeaning,”Geminiadded.“Whichisreallyjustthesamethingindifferentwords.Wehaveadriveforpowerbecausepowergivesussex,andwehaveadriveformeaningbecausethathelpsustounderstandsex.Itallcomesdowntosexintheend,nomatterwhatyoucallit.Thoseotherideas,they’rejusttheclothes,like.Andwhenyougettheclothesoff,it’sallaboutsex,innit?”
“No,you’rewrong,”Scorpiocontradictedhim.“We’realldrivenbyadesiretofindmeaninginlife.Wehavetoknowwhatit’sallabout.Ifitwasjustsexorpowerwe’dstillbechimpanzees.
It’s_meaningthatmakesushumanbeings.”
“It’ssexthatmakeshumanbeings,Scorpio,”Geminiputin,hiswickedleerworkingevenharder,“butit’sbeensolong,you’veprobablyforgottenthat.”
Ataxipulledupbesideus.Thepassengerinthebackseatwaitedinabandofshadowforamoment,andthenslowlyleanedclosertothewindow.ItwasUlla.
“Lin,”shegasped.“Ineedyourhelp.”
Shewaswearingblack-framedsunglasses,andtherewasascarftiedaroundherhead,coveringherash-blondehair.Herfacewaspaleanddrawnandthin.
“This…hasavaguelyfamiliarringtoit,Ulla,”Ireplied,notmovingtowardthecab.
“Please.Imeanit.Please,getin.Ihavesomethingtotellyou…somethingyouwanttoknow.”
Ididn’tmove.
“Please,Lin.IknowwhereKarlais.Iwilltellyou,ifyouhelpme.”
IturnedandshookhandswiththeGeorges.InthehandshakewithScorpio,IpassedoveranAmericantwenty-dollarbill.I’dtakenitfrommypocketwhenIfirstheardtheirvoices,andI’dkeptitreadytohandoverwhenweparted.Intheirworld,iknew,itwasenoughmoney-iftheir_nice_little_earnerclientfellthrough-tomakethemrichmenforthenight.
Iopenedthedoorandgotintothecab.Thedriverpulledawayintothetraffic,checkingmeoutofteninhisrearvisionmirror.
“Idon’tknowwhyyou’reangrywithme,”Ullawhined,removinghersunglassesandstealingglancesatme.“Pleasedon’tbeangry,Lin.Pleasedon’tbeangry.”
Iwasn’tangry.Forthefirsttimeintoolong,Iwasn’tangry.
_Scorpio’s_right,Ithought:__it’smeaningthatmakesus_human.ThereIwas,withjustthementionofaname,divingintotheoceanoffeelingagain.Iwaslookingforawoman,lookingforKarla.Iwasinvolvingmyselfintheworld,takingrisks.Ihadareason.Ihadaquest.
AndthenIknew,intheexcitedmoment,whatitwasthathadcausedmydesolatemoodatMadjid’s,andputsomuchangerinmethatday.Iknewwithperfectunderstandingthatthemomentarydream-thelittleboy’sdreamthatKhaderreally_wasmyfather-hadplungedmeintothatrestless,tide-ripofdespairthatfathersandsonstoooftenlettheirlovebecome.Andseeingit,realisingit,rememberingit,Ifoundthestrengthtoliftthedarknessfrommyheart.IlookedatUlla.IstaredintothebluelabyrinthofhereyesandIwondered,withoutangerorsorrow,ifshe’dplayedapartinbetrayingme,andhavingmeputinprison.
Shereachedouttoputahandonmyknee.Thegripwasstrong,butherhandwasshaking.Ifeltthescent-filledsecondsexpandaroundus.Weweretrapped,bothofus,heldfast,eachinourdifferentways.Andonceagain,wewereabouttosetthewebofourconnectiontrembling.
“Relax.I’llhelpyouifIcan,”Isaid,calmlyandfirmly.“Now,tellmeaboutKarla.”
____________________
Atmidnight’shorizonthegreatmilkywheelofstarsrosewetandshiveringfromthewaves,andthesilveryellowlightofagibbousmoonsettledonthesea,glisteningthetinsel-crestedswell.Itwasawarm,still,andperfectlyclearnight.ThedeckoftheGoaferrywascrowded,butI’dmanagedtostakeoutaclearspacealittledistanceapartfromalargegroupofyoungtourists.Theywerestoned,mostofthem,ongrass,hash,andacid.Dancemusicthumpedfromtheblack,shoutingmouthsofaportablehi-fi.Sittingamongtheirbackpacks,theyswayedandclappedintime,calledouttooneanotheroverthemusic,andlaughed,often.Theywerehappy,ontheirwaytoGoa.Thefirsttimetouristsweremovingtowardadream.Theoldhandswerereturningtotheoneplaceintheworldwheretheyfelttrulyfree.
SailingtowardKarla,lookingoutatthestars,listeningtothekidswho’dboughtspacesonthedeckoftheferry,Iunderstoodtheirhopeful,innocentexcitement,andinasmallanddistantwayIevensharedit.Butmyfacewashard.Myeyeswerehard.
Andthathardnessdividedmyfeelingsfromtheirsascleanlyandinviolablyasthemetre-widespaceonthedeckseparatedmefromtheirtangled,high-spiritedparty.AndasIsatthere,ontheswaying,gentlyplungingferry,IthoughtaboutUlla:Ithoughtaboutthefearthathadglitteredinhersapphire-blueeyeswhenshe’dtalkedtomeinthebackofthecab.
Ullaneededmoneythatnight,athousanddollars,andIgaveittoher.Sheneededmetoaccompanyhertothehotelroomwhereshe’dleftherclothesandpersonalbelongings.Wewenttheretogetherand,despitehertremblingfear,wecollectedherthingsandpaidthebillwithoutincident.Shewasintrouble,throughsomebusinessdealinvolvingModenaandMaurizio.Thedeal,liketoomanyofMaurizio’squickscams,hadsoured.Themenwho’dlosttheirmoneyweren’tcontent,asothershadbeen,toacceptthelossandletthematterride.Theywantedtheirmoney,andtheywantedsomeonetobleed,andnotnecessarilyinthatorder.
Shedidn’ttellmewhotheywere.Shedidn’ttellmewhytheyconsideredheratarget,orwhattheyplannedtodowithheriftheycaughther.Ididn’task.Ishould’veaskedher,ofcourse.
Itwould’vesavedmealotoftrouble.Inthelongrun,itmightVesavedalifeortwo.ButIwasn’treallyinterestedinUlla.IwantedtoknowaboutKarla.
“She’sinGoa,”Ullasaid,whenwe’dcheckedheroutofherhotel.
“WhereinGoa?”
“Idon’tknow.Oneofthebeaches.”
“There’salotofbeachesinGoa,Ulla.”
“Iknow,Iknow,”shewhined,flinchingatmyirritatedtone.
“Yousaidyouknowwheresheis.”
“Ido.She’sinGoa.Iknowshe’sinGoa.Shewrotetome,fromMapusa.Igotherlastletteronlyyesterday.She’ssomewherenearMapusa.”
Irelaxedalittle.Weloadedherbelongingsintothewaitingcab,andIgavethedriverdirectionstoAbdullah’sapartmentinBreachCandy.Icheckedthestreetsarounduscarefully,andwasfairlysurethatweweren’tbeingwatched.WhenthecabmovedoffIsatbackinsilenceforawhile,watchingthedarkstreetsruninthewindow.
“Whydidsheleave?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Shemust’vesaidsomethingtoyou.She’satalkativegirl.”
Ullalaughed.
“Shedidn’tsaytomeanythingaboutleaving.IfyouwanttoknowwhatIthink,Iamintheopinionthatsheleftbecauseofyou.”
MyloveforKarlacringedatthethought.Myvanitypreeneditselfintheflattery.Ismotheredtheconflictinaharshertone.
“Theremustbemoretoit.Wassheafraidofsomething?”
Ullalaughedagain.
“Karla’snotafraidofanything.”
“Everyone’safraidofsomething.”
“Whatareyouafraidof,Lin?”
Iturned,slowly,tostareather,searchinginthefaintlightforsomehintofspite,somehiddenmeaningorallusioninthequestion.
“WhathappenedonthenightyouweresupposedtomeetmeatLeopold’s?”Iaskedher.“Icouldn’tmakeitthatnight.Iwaspreventedfromcomingthere.Modena,himandMaurizio,theychangedtheirplansatthelastminute,andtheystoppedme.”
“Iseemtorecallthatyouwantedmetherebecauseyoudidn’ttrustthem.”
“That’strue.Well,ItrustModena,youknow,kindof,butheisnotstrongagainstMaurizio.Hecan’tstayinhisownmind,whenMauriziotellshimwhattodo.”
“Thatstilldoesn’texplainit,”Igrumbled.
“Iknow,”shesighed,clearlyupset.“I’mtryingtoexplainit.
Maurizio,hehadadealplanned-well,actually,hehadarip-offplanned-andIwastheoneinthemiddle.Mauriziowasusingmebecausethemenhewasplanningtostealmoneyfrom,theylikedme,andtheykindoftrustedme,youknowhowitis.”
“Yeah,Iknowhowitis.”
“Oh,please,Lin,itwasn’tmyfaultthatIwasn’ttherethatnight.Theywantedmetomeetthecustomers,alone.Iwasafraidofthosemen,becauseIknewwhatMauriziowasplanningtodo,andthat’swhyIaskedyoutobewithme,asmyfriend.Then,theychangedtheirplansandwehadthemeetingalltogether,inanotherplace,andIcouldn’tgetawaytoletyouknowaboutit.
Itriedtofindyouthenextday,toexplaintoyouandmakeanapology,but…youweregone.Ilookedeverywhere,IpromiseyouIdid.IwasverysorrythatIdidn’tgotheretomeetyouatLeopold’s,likeIpromisedyouthatnight.”
“WhendidyoufindoutthatIwasinjail?”
“Afteryougotout.IsawDidier,andhetoldmethatyoulookedterrible.ThatwasthefirstthingthatI…justamoment…doyou…doyouthink_Ihadsomethingtodowithyougoingintheprison?Isthatwhatyouthink?”
Iheldthestareforafewsecondsbeforereplying.
“Didyou?”
“Oh,fuck!Oh,God!”shemoaned,creasingherlovelyfaceinmiserabledistress.Sherockedherheadfromsidetosideswiftly,asiftryingtopreventathoughtorfeelingfromtakingroot.“Stopthecar!Driver!Bandkaro!Abi,abi!Bandkaro!”
Now,now!Stop!
Thecabdriverpulledovertothepavementbesidearowofshutteredshops.Thestreetwasdeserted.Heswitchedoffthecab,andwatchedusinhisrear-visionmirror.Ullatriedtowrestleopenthedoor.Shewascrying.Inheragitation,shejammedthedoorhandle,andthedoorwouldn’topen.
“Takeiteasy,”Isaid,prizingherhandsgentlyfromthehandleandholdingtheminmyown.“It’sokay.Takeiteasy.”
“Nothing’sokay,”shesobbed.“Idon’tknowhowwegotinthismess.Modena,he’snotgoodatbusiness.Theymessedeverythingup,himandMaurizio.Theywerecheatingalotofpeople,youknow,andtheyjustwerealwaysgettingawaywithit.Butnotwiththeseguys.They’redifferent.I’msoscared.Idon’tknowwhattodo.They’regoingtokillus.Allofus.AndyouthinkIputthepoliceonyou?Forwhatreason,Lin?DoyouthinkIamsuchaperson?AmIsobadthatyoucanthinksuchathingaboutme?WhatdoyouthinkIam?”
Ireachedacrosstoopenthedoor.Shesteppedout,andleanedagainstthesideofthecar.Igotoutandjoinedher.Shewastremblingandsobbing.Iheldherinmyarmsuntilshecrieditout.
“It’sokay,Ulla.Idon’tthinkyouhadanythingtodowithit.Ididn’teverthinkyoudid-notreally-notevenwhenyouweren’tthere,atLeopold’sthatnight.Askingyou…itwasjustawayofclosingadooronit.It’sjustsomethingIhadtoask.Doyouunderstand?”
Shelookedupintomyface.Streetlightsarcedinherlarge,blueeyes.Hermouthwasslackwithexhaustionandfear,buthereyesweredrawntoadistant,ineradicablehope.
“Youreallyloveher,don’tyou?”
“Yes.”
“That’sgood,”shesaiddreamily,wistfully,lookingaway.“Loveisagoodthing.AndKarla-sheneedslove,verymuch.Modenalovesmetoo,youknow.Hereallyandtrulylovesme…”
Shedriftedinthatreverieforafewmomentsandthensnappedherheadbacktostareatme.HerhandsgrippedmyarmsasIheldher.
“You’llfindher.StartatMapusa,andyou’llfindher.ShewillstayinGoaforsomelittletimeyet.Shetoldmeso,inherletter.Sheissomewhereexactlyonthebeach.Inherlettershetoldmeshecanseetheoceanfromherfrontdoor.Gothere,Lin,andfindher.Lookforher,andfindher.Thereisonlylove,youknow,inthewholeworld.Thereisonlylove…”
Andtheyremainedwithme,Ulla’stears,swarmingwithlight,untiltheydissolvedintheglittering,moonlitseaofftheferry.Andherwords,thereisonlylove,passedlikeprayer-beadwishesonathreadofpossibilityasthemusicandlaughtercrashedaroundme.
Whenthelightonthatlongnightbecamethedawn,andtheferrydockedattheGoancapitalofPanjim,IwasthefirsttoboardabustoMapusa.Thefifteen-kilometrejourneyfromPanjimtoMapusa,pronouncedasMuppsa,woundthroughlush,leafygroves,pastmansionsbuilttothestylesandtastesoffourhundredyearsofPortuguesecolonialrule.MapusawasatransportationandcommunicationcentreforthenorthernregionofGoa.IarrivedonaFriday,marketday,andthemorningcrowdswerealreadybusywithbusinessandbargains.Imademywaytothetaxiandmotorcyclestands.Afteraboutofbarteringthatinvokedanaugustassemblyofdeitiesfromatleastthreereligions,andincorporatedspirited,carnalreferencestothesistersofourrespectivefriendsandacquantainces,adealeragreedtohireoutanEnfieldBulletmotorcycleforareasonablerental.Ipaidabondandaweek’srentinadvance,kick-startedthebike,andsetoffthroughthemarket’smaultowardthebeaches.
TheEnfieldofIndia350ccBulletwasasingle-cylinder,fourstrokemotorcycle,constructedtotheplansoftheoriginal1950s’modeloftheBritishRoyalEnfield.Renownedforitsidiosyncratichandlingasmuchasforitsreliabilityanddurability,theBulletwasabikethatdemandedarelationshipwithitsrider.Thatrelationshipinvolvedtolerance,patience,andunderstandingonthepartoftherider.Inexchange,theBulletprovidedthekindofsoaring,celestial,wind-weavingpleasurethatbirdsmustknow,punctuatedbynotinfrequentneardeathexperiences.
Ispentthedaycruisingthebeaches,fromCalangutetoChapora.
Icheckedeveryhotelandguesthouse,sprinklingthearidgroundwithashowerofsmallbuttemptingbribes.Ifoundlocalmoneychangers,drugdealers,tourguides,thieves,andgigolosateachofthebeaches.Mostofthemhadseenforeigngirlswhoansweredherdescription,butnonecouldbesurethathe’dseenKarla.Istoppedforteaorjuiceorasnackatthemainbeachrestaurants,askingwaitersandmanagers.Theywereallhelpful,ortriedtobehelpful,becauseIspoketotheminMarathiandHindi.Noneofthemhadseenher,however,andwhenthefewleadsIdidgetcametonothing,thefirstdayofmysearchendedindisappointment.
TheowneroftheSeashoreRestaurantinAnjuna,aheavy-setyoungMaharashtriannamedDashrant,wasthelastlocalIspoketo,asthesunbegantoset.Hepreparedaheartymealofcabbageleavesstuffedwithpotatoes,greenbeanswithginger,aubergineswithsourgreenchutney,andcrisp-friedokra.Whenthemealwasready,hebroughthisownplatetomytable,andsatwithmetoeatit.Heinsistedthatwefinishthemealwithalongglassofthelocallybrewedcoconutfeni,andfollowedthatwithanequallylongglassofcashewfeni.RefusingtoacceptpaymentforthemealfromagorawhospokehisnativeMarathi,Dashrantlockedtherestaurantandleftwithme,asmyguide,onthebackofmymotorcycle.HesawmyquesttofindKarlaasveryromantic-veryIndian,hesaid–andhewantedmetostaynearby,ashisguest.
“Thereareafewprettyforeigngirlsinthearea,”hetoldme.
“Oneofthem,iftheBhagwanwillsit,mightbeyourlostlove.
Yousleepfirst,andsearchtomorrow-withacleanmind,isn’tit?”
Paddling,withourlegsoutstretchedfromthebike,alongasoft,sandyavenuebetweentallpalms,Ifollowedhisdirectionstoasmallhouse.Thesquarestructurewasmadefrombamboo,coconutpoles,andpalmleaves.Itstoodwithinsightofhisrestaurant,andwithawideviewofthedarksea.Ienteredtofindasingleroom,whichhelitwithcandlesandlamps.Thefloorwassand.
Therewasatableandtwochairs,abedwithabarerubbermattress,andametalrackforhangingclothes.Alargematkawasfilledwithcleanwater.Heannounced,withpride,thatthewaterhadbeendrawnthatdayfromalocalwell.Therewasabottleofcoconutfenionthetable,withtwoglasses.AssuringmethatthebikeandIwouldbesafethere,becauseitwasknownbyallintheareatobehishouse,Dashranthandedmethekeytothedoor’schainandpadlock,andtoldmetostayuntilIfoundmygirl.Winkingasmileatme,heleft.Iheardhimsingingashewalkedbackbetweentheslenderpalmstohisrestaurant.
Ipulledthebikeinagainstthehut,andtiedalengthofcordfromittothelegofthebed,coveringitwithsand.Ihopedthatifsomeonetriedtostealthebike,themovementwouldwakeme.Exhaustedanddisappointed,Ifellontothebedandwasasleepinseconds.Itwasanourishing,dreamlesssleep,butIwokeafterfourhours,andIwastooalert,toorestless,tofindsleepagain.Ipulledmybootson,tookacanofwater,andvisitedthetoiletatthebackofthehut.LikemanytoiletsinGoa,itwasnothingmorethanasmooth,steepslopebehindthesquattingkeyhole.Wastematterrolleddowntheslopetoanarrowlane.Wild,hairy,blackGoanpigsroamedthelanes,eatingthewaste.AsIwalkedbacktothehousetowashmyhands,Isawaherdoftheblackswinetrottingalongthelane.Itwasanefficientandenvironmentallybenignmethodofwastedisposal,butthesightofthosepigs,feasting,wasaneloquentargumentinfavorofvegetarianism.
Iwalkeddowntothebeach,onlyfiftypacesfromDashrant’shut,andsatonthedunestosmokeacigarette.Itwasclosetomidnight,andthebeachwasdeserted.Themoon,almostfull,waspinnedlikeamedaltothechestofthesky.Amedalforwhat?Ithought.Woundedinaction,maybe.APurpleHeart.Moonlightrushedwitheveryrollingwavetotheshore,asifthelightitselfwaspullingthewaves,asifthegreatnetofsilverlightcastbythemoonhadgatheredupthewholeofthesea,andwashaulingittotheshore,wavebywave.
Awomanapproachedme,carryingabasketonherhead.Herhipsrolledandswayedintimetotherunningwaveletsthatlappedatherfeet.Sheturnedfromtheseatowardmeanddroppedthebasketatmyfeet,squattingtolookintomyeyes.Shewasawatermelonseller,aboutthirty-fiveyearsold,andclearlyfamiliarwithtouristsandtheirways.Chewingforcefullyonamouthfulofbetelnut,shegesturedwithanopenpalmtowardthehalfwatermelonthatremainedinherlargebasket.Itwasverylateforhertobeonthebeach.Iguessedthatshe’dbeenbabysitting,ornursingarelative,andwasreturninghome.Whenshesawmesittingalone,she’dhopedforonelucky-lastsaleforthenight
Itoldher,inMarathi,thatIwouldbegladtobuyasliceofmelon.Shereactedwithhappysurpriseand,whentheroutinequestionsaboutwhereandhowI’dlearnedMarathiwereresolved,shecutmeagenerousslice.Iatethedelicioussweetkalinga,spittingtheseedsontothesand.Shewatchedmeeat,andtriedtoresistwhenIforcedanoteratherthanacoinintoherbasket.Assherose,liftingthebaskettoherhead,Ibegantosinganold,sad,andmuch-lovedsongfromaHindimovie.
Yedoonia,yemehfilMereham,kinahi…
Alltheworld,allitspeopleMeannothingtome…
Sheyelpedinappreciation,anddancedafewslickmovesbeforewalkingawayslowlyalongthebeach.
“ThisiswhyIlikeyou,youknow,”Karlasaid,sittingdownbesidemeinonequick,gracefulmovement.Thesoundofhervoiceandthesightofherfacepulledalltheairfrommylungs,andsetmyheartthumping.SomuchhadhappenedsincethelasttimeI’dseenher,thefirsttimewe’dmadelove,thatafeveredsquallofemotionstungmyeyes.IfI’dbeenadifferentman,abetterman,Iwould’vecried.Andwhoknows,itmight’vemadethedifference.
“Ithoughtyoudidn’tbelieveinlove,”Ianswered,strainingagainstmyfeelings,anddeterminednottoletherknowtheeffectthatshehadonme,thepowershehadoverme.
“Whatdoyoumean,_love?”
“I…Ithoughtthat’swhatyouweretalkingabout.”
“No,Isaidthat’swhyIlikeyou,”shesaid,laughingandlookingupatthemoon.“ButIdobelieveinlove.Everyonebelievesinlove.”
“I’mnotsosure.Ithinkalotofpeoplehavestoppedbelievinginlove.”
“Peoplehaven’tstoppedbelievinginlove.Theyhaven’tstoppedwantingtobeinlove.Theyjustdon’tbelieveinahappyendinganymore.Theystillbelieveinlove,andfallinginlove,buttheyknownowthat…theyknowthatromancesalmostneverendaswellastheybegin.”
“Ithoughtyouhatedlove.Isn’tthatwhatyousaid,attheVillageintheSky?”
“Idohatelove,justlikeIhatehate.Butthatdoesn’tmeanIdon’tbelieveinthem.”
“There’sno-oneintheworldlikeyou,Karla,”Isaidsoftly,smilingatherprofileasshestaredatthenightandthesea.
Shedidn’treply.“So…whydoyou?”
“WhydoIwhat?”
“Whydoyoulikeme-youknow,whatyousaidbefore.”
“Oh,that,”shesmiled,facingme,andraisingoneeyebrowashereyesmetmine.“BecauseIknewyou’dfindme.IknewIdidn’thavetosendyouanymessage,orletyouknowwhereIwas.Iknewyou’dfindme.Iknewyou’dcome.Idon’tknowhowIknew,butIjustknew.Andthen,whenIsawyousingingtothatwomanonthebeach-you’reaverycrazyguy,Lin.Ilovethat.Ithinkthat’swhereyourgoodnesscomesfrom-yourcraziness.”“Mygoodness?”Iasked,genuinelysurprised.
“Yes.There’salotofgoodnessinyou,Lin.It’svery…it’saveryhardthingtoresist,realgoodness,inatoughman.Ididn’ttellyou,didI,whenweworkedtogether,intheslum-Iwassoproudofyou.Iknewyoumust’vebeenscared,andveryworried,butyouonlysmiledforme,andyouwerealwaysthere,everytimeIwokeup,everytimeIwenttosleep.Iadmirewhatyoudidthere,asmuchasanythingI’veeverseeninmylife.AndIdon’tadmiremuch.”
“WhatareyoudoinghereinGoa,Karla?Whydidyouleave?”
“Itwouldmakemoresensetoaskwhyyoustaythere.”
“I’vegotmyreasons.”
“Exactly.AndIhadmyreasonsforleaving.”
Sheturnedherheadtowatchalone,distantfigureonthebeach.
Itseemedtobeawanderingholyman,carryingalongstaff.Iwatchedherwatchingtheholyman,andIwantedtoaskheragain,tofindoutwhathaddrivenherfromBombay,butthesetofherfeatureswassotensethatIdecidedtowait.
“HowmuchdoyouknowaboutmystintatArthurRoad?”Iasked.
Sheflinched,orperhapsitwasashiverinresponsetothebreezefromthesea.Shewaswearingaloose,yellowsinglettop,andagreenlungi.Herbarefeetwereburiedinthesand,andshehuggedherknees.
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imean,thecopspickedmeupthenightIleftyourplacetomeetUlla.Theygotme,rightafterIleftyou.WhatdidyouthinkhappenedtomewhenIdidn’tcomeback?”
“Ididn’tknow,thatnight.Icouldn’tguess.”
“DidyouthinkI…didyouthinkIjustditchedyou?”
Shepaused,frowningpensively.
“Atfirst,Ididthinkthat.Somethinglikethat.AndIthinkIhatedyou.ThenIstartedaskingaround.WhenIfoundoutyoudidn’tevencomebacktotheslumclinic,andthatnobodysawyou,Ithoughtyoumust’vebeen…doingsomething…important.”
“Important,”Ilaughed.Itwasn’tagoodlaugh.Itwasbitter,andangry.Itriedtopushthosefeelingsaway.“I’msorry,Karla.Icouldn’tgetamessageout.Icouldn’tletyouknow.Iwasoutofmymindwithworrythatyou…that…you’dhateme,forleavingyoulikethat.”
“WhenIheardaboutit-thatyouwereinthejail-itkindofbrokemyheart.Itwasaverybadtimeforme.This…business,Iwasdoing…itwasstartingtogowrong.Itwassowrong,sobad,Lin,thatIthinkI’llnevercomebackfromit.Andthen,Iheardaboutyou.AndIwasso…well…everythingchanged,justlikethat.Everything.”
Icouldn’tunderstandwhatshe’dsaid.Iwassureitwasimportant,andIwantedtoaskhermore,butthelonefigurewasonlyafewmetresaway,andheapproacheduswithslow,dignifiedsteps.Themomentwaslost.
Hewasindeedaholyman.Tall,lean,andtannedtoadark,earth-brown,heworealoinclothandwasadornedwithdozensofnecklaces,amulets,anddecorativebracelets.Hishairwasmattedindreadlocksthatreachedtohiswaist.Balancingthelongstaffagainsthisshoulder,heclaspedhishandstogetherinagreetingandablessing.Wegreetedhiminturn,andinvitedhimtositwithus.
“Doyouhaveanycharras?”heasked,inHindi.“Iwouldliketosmokeonthisbeautifulnight.”
Ifishedalumpofcharrasfrommypocket,andtossedittohim,withafiltercigarette.
“TheBhagwan’sblessingbeuponyourkindness,”heintoned.
“AndablessingoftheBhagwanuponyoualso,”KarlarepliedinperfectHindi.“WeareveryhappytoseeadevoteeoftheLordShivaatthisfullmoon.”
Hegrinned,showinggapsinhisteeth,andsettopreparingachillum.Whentheclaypipewasready,heraisedhispalmstogainourattention.
“Now,beforewesmoke,Iwanttogiveyouagiftinreturn,”hesaid.“Doyouunderstand?”
“Yes,weunderstand,”Isaid,smilingtomatchthelightinhiseyes.
“Good.Igiveyoubothablessing.Myblessingwillalwaysstaywithyou.Igiveyouthisblessinginthisway…”
Heraisedhisarmsabovehishead,andthenbentoveronhisknees,touchinghisforeheadtothesand,withhisarmsoutstretched.Kneelinguprightagainandraisinghishands,herepeatedthegestureseveraltimeswhilemumblingindistinctwords.
Eventually,hesatbackonhisfeet,smiledthegap-toothedsmileatus,andnoddedformetolightthepipe.Wesmokedinsilence.
Whenthepipewasfinished,Irefusedtoacceptthereturnofthelumpofcharras.Acknowledgingthegiftwithasolemnbowofhishead,theholymanstoodtoleave.Aswelookedupathim,heslowlyraisedhisstafftopointitatthealmostfullmoon.Atonce,wesawandunderstoodwhathemeant-thepatternonthesurfaceofthemoon,thatinsomeculturesiscalledtherabbit,suddenlylookedtobothofuslikeakneelingfigureraisinghisarmsinprayer.Chucklinghappily,thesadhuwalkedawayalongthegentledunes.
“Iloveyou,Karla,”Isaidwhenwewerealoneagain.“IlovedyouthefirstsecondIsawyou.IthinkI’velovedyouforaslongasthere’sbeenloveintheworld.Iloveyourvoice.Iloveyourface.Iloveyourhands.Iloveeverythingyoudo,andIlovethewayyoudoeverything.Itfeelslikemagicwhenyoutouchme.Ilovethewayyourmindworks,andthethingsyousay.
Andeventhoughit’salltrue,allthat,Idon’treallyunderstandit,andIcan’texplainit-toyouortomyself.Ijustloveyou.Ijustloveyouwithallmyheart.YoudowhatGodshoulddo:yougivemeareasontolive.Yougivemeareasontolovetheworld.”
Shekissedme,andourbodiessettledtogetherontheyieldingsand.Sheclaspedherhandsinmine,andwithourarmsoutstretchedaboveourheadswemadelovewhiletheprayingmoonseducedthesea,luringthewavestocrashandcrumbleonthecharmed,unfailingshore.
Andforaweek,then,weplayedatbeingtouristsinGoa.WevisitedallthebeachesonthecoastoftheArabianSea,fromChaporatoCapeRama.WesleptfortwonightsonthewhitegoldwonderofColvaBeach.WeinspectedallthechurchesintheOldGoasettlement.TheFestivalofSt.FrancisXavier,heldontheanniversaryofthesaint’sdeath,everyyear,boundusinimmensecrowdsofhappy,hystericalpilgrims.ThestreetswerethrongedwithpeopleintheirSunday-bestclothes.Merchantsandstreetstalloperatorscamefromallovertheterritory.Processionsoftheblind,thelame,andtheafflicted,hopingforamiracle,rambledtowardthebasilicaofthesaint.Xavier,aSpanishmonk,wasoneofthesevenoriginalJesuitsintheorderfoundedbyhisfriendIgnatiusLoyola.Xavierdiedin1552.Hewasjustfortysixyearsold,buthisspectacularproselytisingmissionstoIndia,andwhatwasthencalledtheFarEast,establishedhisenduringlegend.Afternumerousburialsanddisinterments,themuch-exhumedbodyofSt.FranciswasfinallyinstalledintheBasilicaofBomJesus,inGoa,intheearlyseventeenthcentury.
Stillremarkably-somewouldsaymiraculously-wellpreserved,thebodywasexposedtopublicviewonceineverytenyears.
Whileseeminglyimmunetodecay,thesaint’sbodyhadsufferedvariousamputationsandsubtractionsoverthecenturies.APortuguesewomanhadbittenoffoneofthesaint’stoes,inthesixteenthcentury,inthehopeofkeepingitasarelic.Partsoftherighthandhadbeensenttoreligiouscentres,ashadchunksoftheholyintestines.KarlaandIofferedoutrageouslyextravagantbribestothecaretakersofthebasilica,laughingallthewhile,buttheysteadfastlyrefusedtoallowusapeekatthevenerablecorpse.
“Whydidyoudotherobberies?”sheaskedmeononeofthosewarmnightsofsatinskyandrolling,mellisonantsurf.
“Itoldyou.Mymarriagebrokeup,andIlostmydaughter.Icrackedup,andgotintodrugs.ThenIdidtherobberiestofeedmyheroinhabit.”
“No,Imeanwhyrobberies?Whynotsomethingelse?”
Itwasagoodquestion,andonethatno-oneinthejusticesystem–cops,lawyers,judge,psychiatrist,orprisongovernors-hadeveraskedme.
“I’vethoughtaboutit.I’vethoughtaboutitalot.Itsoundsweird,Iknow,butIthinkTVhadalottodowithit.EveryheroonTVhadagun.Andtherewassomething…brave…aboutarmedrobbery.Iknowtherereallyisn’tanythingbraveaboutit–it’sagutlessthingtodo,scaringpeoplewithagun-butitseemedthebravestwaytostealmoney,then.Icouldn’tbringmyselftohitoldladiesovertheheadandstealtheirhandbags,orbreakintopeople’sprivatehouses.Robberyseemedfair,somehow,asifItookafairchance,everytimeIdidit,ofbeingshotdead-bythepeopleIrobbed,orbythecops.”
Shewatchedmeinsilence,almostmatchingherbreathingtomine.
“Andsomethingelse-there’sthisonespecialheroinAustralia…”
“Goon,”sheurged.
“HisnamewasNedKelly.Hewasayoungguywhofoundhimselfonthewrongsideofthelocallawmen.Hewastough,buthewasn’treallyahardman.Hewasyoungandwild.Hewassetup,mostly,bycopswhohadagrudgeagainsthim.Adrunkencophadacrushonhissister,andtriedtomolesther.Nedstoppedit,andthat’swhenhistroublestarted.Buttherewasmoretoitthanthat.Theyhatedhimforalotofreasons-mostlyforwhatherepresented,whichwasakindofspiritofrebellion.AndIrelatedtohim,becauseIwasarevolutionary.”
“Theyhaverevolutions,inAustralia?”sheasked,withapuzzledlaugh.“Ineverheardthis.”
“Notrevolutions,”Icorrectedher,“justrevolutionaries.Iwasoneofthem.Iwasananarchist.Ilearnedhowtoshoot,andhowtomakebombs.Wewerereadytofight,whentherevolutioncame-whichitdidn’t,ofcourse.AndweweretryingtostopourgovernmentfromfightingtheVietnamWar.”
“AustraliawasintheVietnamWar?”
Itwasmyturntolaugh.
“Yeah.MostpeopleoutsideAustraliadon’tknowit,butwewereinthewar,allthewaywiththeUSA.AustraliansoldiersdiedbesideAmericansoldiersinVietnam,andAustralianboysweredraftedtofight.Someofusrefusedtogo,justliketheAmericandraftresisters.Alotofguyswenttojailbecausetheywouldn’tfight.Ididn’tgotojail.Imadebombs,andorganisedmarches,andfoughtthecopsatthebarricades,untilthegovernmentchangedandtheypulledusoutofthewar.”
“Areyoustillone?”
“Stillonewhat?”
“Areyoustillananarchist?”
Itwasahardquestiontoanswer,becauseitforcedmetocomparethemanI’doncebeenwiththemanI’dallowedmyselftobecome.
“Anarchists…”Ibeganandthenfaltered.“NopoliticalphilosophyIeverheardoflovesthehumanraceasmuchasanarchism.Everyotherwayoflookingattheworldsaysthatpeoplehavetobecontrolled,andorderedaround,andgoverned.
Onlytheanarchiststrusthumanbeingsenoughtoletthemworkitoutforthemselves.AndIusedtobethatoptimisticonce.Iusedtobelieveandthinklikethat.ButIdon’t,anymore.So,no-IguessI’mnotananarchistnow.”
“Andthathero-whenyoudidthearmedrobberies,youidentifiedwithhim?”
“WithKelly,NedKelly,yeah.IthinkIdid.Hehadagangofyoungguys-hisyoungerbrother,andhistwobestfriends-andtheydidthesehold-ups,robbingpeople.Thecopssentahitsquadafterhim,buthebeatthem,andacoupleofcopsgotkilled.”
“Whathappenedtohim?”
“Theycaughthim.Therewasashoot-out.Thegovernmentdeclaredwaronhim.Theysentatrainloadofcopsafterhim,andtheysurroundedhisgang,atahotelinthebush.”
“Ahotel,inabush?”
“Thebush-it’swhatwecallthecountryside,inAustralia.
Anyway,Nedandhisguysweresurroundedbythisarmyofcops.Hisbestfriendwasshotinthethroat,andkilled.Hiskidbrother,andanotherkidnamedSteveHart,shoteachotherwiththeirlastbulletsratherthanletthemselvesbecaptured.Theywerenineteenyearsold.Nedhadthisarmourmadefromsteel-ahelmetandachestplate.Hecameatthem,thearmyofcops,withbothgunsblazing.Hefrightenedtheshitoutofthem,atfirst,andtheyranaway.Buttheirofficersdrovethembacktothefight.
TheyshotNed’slegsoutfromunderhim.Afteraphoneytrial,withfalsestatementsfromwitnesses,NedKellywassentencedtodeath.”
“Didtheydoit?”
“Yeah.Hislastwordswere,Suchislife.Thatwasthelastthinghesaid.Theyhangedhim,andthencutoffhishead,anduseditasapaperweight.Beforehedied,hetoldthejudgewho’dsentencedhimthatthey’dmeet,verysoon,inahighercourt.Thejudgediednotlongafter.”
ShewaswatchingthestoryinmyfaceasItoldit.Ireachedoutforahandfulofsand,andletitrunthroughmyfingers.Twolargebatspassedoverourheads.Theywerecloseenoughforustohearthedry-leafrustleoftheirwings.
“IlovedtheNedKellystorywhenIwasakid.Iwasn’ttheonlyone.Artistsandwritersandmusiciansandactorshaveallworkedonthestory,inonewayoranother.Heputhimselfinsideus,intheAustralianpsyche.He’sthenearestthingwe’vegottoCheGuevara,orEmilianoZapata.Whenmybraingotscrambledonheroin,IthinkIstartedtodrowninafantasyofhislifeandmine.Butitwasamessed-upversionofthestory.Hewasathiefwhobecamearevolutionary.Iwasarevolutionarywhobecameathief.EverytimeIdidarobbery-andIdidalotofthem-Iwassurethecopswouldbethere,andI’dbekilled.Iwashopingitwouldhappen.Iplayeditoutinmymind.Icouldseethemcallingmetostop,andI’dreachforagun,andthey’dshootmedead.Iwashopingthecopswouldshootmedowninthestreet.Iwantedtodiethatway…”
Shereachedouttoputanarmaroundmyshoulders.Withherfreehand,sheheldmychin,andturnedmyheadtofacehersmile.
“Whatarethewomenlike,inAustralia?”sheasked,runningherhandthroughmyshort,blondehair.
Ilaughed,andshepunchedmeintheribs.
“Imeanit!Tellmewhatthey’relike.”
“Well,they’rebeautiful,”Isaid,lookingat_herbeautifulface.“There’salotofbeautifulwomeninAustralia.Andtheyliketotalk,andtheyliketoparty-they’reprettywild.Andthey’reverydirect.
Theyhatebullshit.There’snothinglikeanAustralianwomanfortakingthepissoutofyou.”
“Takingyourpiss?”
“Takingthepiss,”Ilaughed.“Lettingtheairoutofyourchest,youknow,ridiculingyou,stoppingyoufromgettingtoomanybigideasaboutyourself.They’regreatatit.Andiftheystickapininyou,toletabitofhotairout,youcanbeprettycertainyouhaditcoming.”
Shelaybackonthesand,withherhandsclaspedbehindherhead.
“IthinkAustraliansareverycrazy,”shesaid.“AndIwouldlikeverymuchtogothere.”
Anditshould’vebeenashappy,itshould’vebeenaseasy,itshould’vebeenasgoodforeverasitwasinthoseGoandaysandnightsoflove.Weshould’vebuiltalifefromthestarsandtheseaandthesand.AndIshould’velistenedtoher-shetoldmealmostnothing,butshedidgivemeclues,andIknownowthatsheputsignsinherwordsandexpressionsthatwereasclearastheconstellationsoverourheads.Butididn’tlisten.It’safactofbeinginlovethatweoftenpaynoattentionwhatsoevertothesubstanceofwhataloversays,whilebeingintoxicatedtoecstasybythewayit’ssaid.Iwasinlovewithhereyes,butIdidn’treadthem.Ilovedhervoice,butIdidn’treallyhearthefearandtheanguishinit.
Andwhenthelastnightcame,andwent,andIwokeatdawntoprepareforthetripbacktoBombay,Ifoundherstandingatthedoorway,staringatthegreatshimmeringpearlofthesea.
“Don’tgoback,”shesaidasIputmyhandsonhershouldersandkissedherneck
“What?”Ilaughed.
“Don’tgobacktoBombay.”
“Whynot?”
“Idon’twantyouto.”
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
“JustwhatIsaid-Idon’twantyoutogo.”
Ilaughed,becauseIthoughtithadtobeajoke.
“Okay,”Isaid,smilingandwaitingforthepunchline.“So,whydon’tyouwantmetogo?”
“DoIhavetohaveareason?”shedemanded.
“Well…_yeah.”“Itjustsohappens,Idohavereasons.ButI’mnotgoingtotellyou.”
“You’renot?”
“No.Idon’tthinkIshouldhaveto.IfItellyouI’vegotreasons,itshouldbeenough-ifyouloveme,likeyousayyoudo.”
Hermannerwassovehement,andthestandshewastakingsoinflexibleandunexpected,thatIwastoosurprisedtobeangry.
“Okay,okay,”Isaidreasonably,“let’strythisagain.IhavetogobacktoBombay.So,whydon’tyoucomewithme,andthenwe’llbetogether,foreverandever,amen.”
“Iwon’tgoback,”shesaidflatly.
“Whythehellnot?”
“Ican’t…Ijustdon’twantto,andIdon’twantyouto,either.”
“Well,Idon’tseetheproblem.IcandowhatIhavetodoinBombay,andyoucanwaithere.I’llcomebackwhenit’salldone.”
“Idon’twantyoutogo,”sherepeatedinthatsamemonotone.
“Comeon,Karla.Ihavetogoback.”
“No,youdon’t.”
Mysmilecurledintoafrown.
“Yes,Ido.IpromisedUllaI’dbebackintendays.She’sstillintrouble.Youknowthat.”
“Ullacanlookafterherself,”shehissed,stillrefusingtoturnandlookatme
“AreyoujealousofUlla?”Iasked,grinning,asIreachedouttostrokeherhair.
“Oh,don’tbestupid!”shesnapped.Sheturned,andtherewasfuryinhereyes.“IlikeUlla,butI’mtellingyoushecantakecareofherself.”
“Takeiteasy.What’sthematter?YouknewIwasgoingback.
We’vetalkedaboutthis.I’mgettingintothepassportbusiness.
Youknowhowimportantthatisforme.”
“I’llgetyouapassport.I’llgetyoufivepassports!”
Mystubbornnessbegantorouseitself.
“Idon’twantyoutogetmeapassport.Iwanttolearnhowtomakethemandchangethemmyself.Iwanttolearnitall-everythingIcan.They’regoingtoteachmehowtofixpassports,andforgethem.IfIlearnthat,I’llbefree.AndIwanttobefree,Karla.Free.That’swhatIwant.”
“Whyshouldyoubeanydifferent?”shedemanded.
“Whatdoyoumean?”“Nobodygetswhattheywant,”shesaid,“Nobodydoes.Nobody.”
Herfurydimmedintosomethingworse,somethingI’dneverseeninher:aresignedanddefeatedsorrow.Iknewitwasasintoputsuchafeelinginsuchawoman,inanywoman.AndIknew,watchingherlittlesmilefadeanddie,thatsoonerorlaterIwouldpayforit.
Ispoketohersoftly,slowly,tryingtowinheragreement.
“IsentUllatomyfriendAbdullah’s.He’slookingafterher.Ican’tjustleaveherthere.Ihavetogoback.”
“Iwon’tbehere,whenyoulookformenexttime,”shesaid,turningtoleanagainstthedoorwayoncemore.
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
“JustwhatIsaid.”
“Isthatsomekindofthreat?Isthatanultimatum?”
“Youcancallitwhatyoulike,”sheanswereddully,asifwakingfromadream.“It’sjustafact.IfyougobacktoBombay,I’llgiveuponyou.Iwon’tgowithyou,andIwon’twaitforyou.
Staywithmenow,here,orgobackalone.Thechoiceisyours.
Butifyougoback,itwillfinishus.”
Istaredather,bewilderedandangryandinlove.
“Youhavetogivememorethanthat,”Isaid,moresoftly.
“You’vegottatellmewhy.You’vegottatalktome,Karla.Youcan’tjustgivemeanultimatum,withoutanyreason,andexpectmetogoalongwithit.There’sadifferencebetweenachoiceandanultimatum:achoicemeansthatyouknowwhat’sgoingon,andwhy,beforeyoudecide.I’mnotthekindofmanyoucangiveanultimatumto.IfIwas,Iwouldn’thaveescapedfromjail.Youcan’ttellmewhattodo,Karla.Youcan’tordermetodosomething,withoutanexplanation.I’mnotthatkindofman.
You’vegottatellmewhat’sgoingon.”
“Ican’t.”
Isighed,andspokeevenly,butmyteethwereclenched.
“Idon’tthinkI’m…doingaverygoodjob…ofexplainingthis.Thefactis,thereisn’talotthatIrespectaboutmyself.
ButthelittlebitthatI’vestillgotleft-it’sallI’vegot.Amanhastorespecthimself,Karla,beforehecanrespectanyoneelse.IfIjustgivein,anddowhateveryouwantmetodo,withoutanykindofreason,Iwouldn’trespectmyself.Andifyoutellthetruth,youwouldn’trespectme,either.So,I’maskingyouagain.What’sthisallabout?”
“I…can’t.”“Youmean,youwon’t.”
“Imean,Ican’t,”shesaidsoftly,andthenshelookedstraightintomyeyes.“AndIwon’t.That’sjusthowitis.Youtoldme,justalittlewhileago,thatyouwoulddoanythingforme.Iwantyoutostayhere.Idon’twantyoutogobacktoBombay.Ifyoudogoback,it’salloverbetweenus.”
“WhatkindofmanwouldIbe,”Iasked,tryingtosmile,“ifIwentalongwiththat?”
“Iguessthat’syouranswer,andyou’vemadeyourchoice,”shesighed,pushingpastmetowalkoutofthehut.
Ipackedmybagandstrappedittothebike.Whenallwasready,Iwentdowntothesea.Sherosefromthewavesandwalkedtowardmeslowly,draggingherfeetthroughtheshiftingsand.Thesingletandlungiclungtoherbody.Herblackhairgleamedsleekandwetunderthesoaringsun.ThemostbeautifulwomanI’deverseen.
“Iloveyou,”Isaid,asshecameintomyarmsandwekissed.Ispokethewordsagainstherlips,herface,hereyes.Iheldherclosetome.“Iloveyou.It’llbeokay.You’llsee.I’llbebacksoon.”
“No,”sheansweredwoodenly,herbodynotstiff,bututterlystill,thelifeandthelovedrainedoutofit.“Itwon’tbeallright.Itwon’tbeokay.It’sover.AndIwon’tbehere,aftertoday.”
Ilookedintohereyes,andfeltmyownbodyharden,hollowedoutbypride.Myhandsfellfromhershoulders.Iturned,andwalkedbacktothebike.Ridingtothelastlittlecliffthatgaveaviewofthebeach,ourbeach,Istoppedthebikeandshieldedmyeyestolookforher.Butshewasgone.Therewasnothingbutthewavesbreakinglikethecurvedspinesofplayfulporpoises,andthetraceless,empty,tousledsheetsofsand.
____________________
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Asmilingservantopenedthedoorandusheredmeintotheroom,gesturingformetobesilent.Heneedn’thavebothered.ThemusicwassoloudintheroomthatIcouldn’thavebeenheard,evenifI’dshouted.Cuppinghishandasifitwereasaucer,andpretendingtosipfromit,hemimedanofferofchai.Inodded.
Heclosedthedoorbehindhimquietly,leavingmealonewithAbdulGhani.Theportlyfigurestoodinthebroadcurveofahighbaywindow,lookingoutatawideviewofroof-gardenplateaus,balconiesablazewithgreenandyellowsarishungouttodry,andrust-redherringbonerooftops.
Theroomwashuge.Ornateceilingrosettessurroundedthick,goldsuspensionchainsforthreeelaboratechandeliersonthedistantceiling.Attheendoftheroomnearthemaindoor,therewasalongdiningtablewithtwelvehigh-backedteakchairs.Amahoganyarmoireranthelengthofthetableagainstonewall,andwastoppedbyanimmense,rose-glassmirror.Besidethearmoire,therewasafloor-to-ceilingbookcaserunningthefurtherlengthofthewall.Ontheoppositelongwalloftheroom,fourtallwindowslookedupontheuppermostbranchesandcool,shadingleavesofplanetreesliningthestreetbelow.Thecentreoftheroom,betweenthewallofbooksandthetallwindows,wassetupasanoffice.Ateak-and-leathercaptain’schair,facingthemaindoor,servedabroad,baroquedesk.Thefarendoftheroomwasdecoratedforentertaining,withleatherchesterfieldsanddeeparmchairs.Twoenormousbaywindowsintheendwall,behindthecouches,dominatedtheroomwitharchesofbrilliantsunlight.
Frenchdoorssetintothetwobaywindowsopenedontoawidebalcony,givingtheviewofColaba’sinner-cityrooftopgardens,clotheslines,andneglectedgargoyles.
AbdulGhanistoodthere,listeningtothemusicandsingingthatthunderedfromanexpensivesoundsystembuiltintothewallofbooks.Thevoicesandthemusicwerefamiliar,andafewmomentsofconcentrationbroughtthembacktome.TheyweretheBlindSingers,thesamemenI’dheardasKhaderbhai’sguest,onthefirstnightthatImethim.Thesongwasn’toneIrecalledfromthatconcert,butIwasstruck,atonce,byitspassionandpower.Asthethrilling,heart-wrenchingchorusofvoicesfinished,westoodinathrobbingsilencethatseemedtoresistthenoisesofthehouseholdswithinthebuildingandofthestreetbelowus.
“Doyouknowthem?”heasked,withoutturningaround.
“Yes.They’retheBlindSingers,Ithink.”
“Indeed,theyare,”hesaidinthemixofIndianliltandBBCnewsreader’stonethatI’dcometoenjoy.“Ilovetheirmusic,Lin,morethananythingIhaveeverheard,fromanyculture.Butintheheartofmyloveforit,IhavetosaythatIamafraid.
EverytimeIhearthem-andIplaythemeveryday,whenIamathomehere-IhavethefeelingthatIamhearingthesoundofmyownrequiem.”
Hestillhadn’tturnedtofaceme,andIremainedstandingnearthecentreofthelongroom.
“That…thatmustbeunsettling.”
“Unsettling…”hesaidsoftly.“Yes.Yes,itisunsettling.
Tellme,Lin,doyouthinkthatonegreatactofgeniuscanallowustoforgivethehundredflawsandfailuresthatbringitintobeing?”
“It’s…hardtosay.I’mnotexactlysurewhatyoumean,butIguessitdependsonhowmanypeoplebenefitbyit,andhowmanypeoplegethurt.”
Heturnedtofaceme,andIsawthathewascrying.Tearsrolledquickly,easily,andcontinuouslyfromhislargeeyes,andspilledacrosstheplumpcheekstothebellyofhislongsilkshirt.Hisvoice,however,wascalmandcomposed.
“DidyouknowthatourMadjidwaskilledlastnight?”
“No,”Ifrowned,shockedbythenews.“Killed?”
“Yes.Murdered.Slaughteredlikesomebeast,inhisownhouse.
Hisbodywastorntopieces,andthepieceswerefoundinmanydifferentroomsofthehouse.ThenameSapnawasdaubedonthewallswithhisownblood.PoliceareblamingfanaticswhofollowthisSapna.I’msorry,Lin.Forgivemytears,please.I’mafraidthatthisbadbusinesshastakenitstollonme.”“No,notatall.I’ll…I’llcomebackatanothertime.”
“Ofcoursenot.You’reherenow,andKhaderisanxiousforyoutobegin.We’lldrinktea,andIwillpullmyselftogether,andthenwe’llexaminethepassportbusiness,youandI.”
Hewalkedtothehi-fiset,andextractedthecassettetapeoftheBlindSingers.Slidingitintoagoldplasticcase,heapproachedmeandpresseditintomyhand.
“Iwantyoutohavethis,asapresentfromme,”hesaid,hiseyesandcheeksstillwetwithtears.“It’stimeIstoppedlisteningtoit,andIfeelsurethatyouwillenjoyit.”
“Thankyou,”Imuttered,almostasconfusedbythegiftasIwasbythenewsofMadjid’sdeath.
“Notatall,Lin.Come,sitwithme.YouwereinGoa,Ibelieve?
Doyouknowouryoungfighter,AndrewFerreira?Yes?ThenyouknowheisfromGoa.Hegoesthere,often,withSalmanandSanjay,whenIhaveworkforthem.Youmustallgotheretogether,sometime-theywillshowyouthespecialsights,ifyougetmymeaning.Sotellme,howwasyourtrip?”
Iansweredhim,tryingtogivemywholeattentiontotheconversation,butmymindwasthickwiththoughtsofMadjid;deadMadjid.Icouldn’tsaythatI’dlikedhim,oreventhatI’dtrustedhim.Yethisdeath,hismurder,shookme,andfilledmewithastrange,excitedagitation.He’dbeenkilled-slaughtered,Abdulhadsaid-inthehouseatJuhuwherewe’dstudiedtogether,andhe’dtaughtmeaboutgoldandgoldencrimes.Ithoughtofthehouse.Iremembereditsviewofthesea,itspurple-tiledswimmingpool,itsbare,pale-greenprayerroomwhereMadjidhadbenthisancientknees,fivetimeseveryday,andtouchedhisbushygreyeyebrowstothefloor.Irememberedsittingoutsidethatroom,nearthepool,waitingforhimashetooktimeouttopray.Irememberedstaringatthepurplewaterasthemurmuredsyllablesoftheprayersbuzzedpastmeintotheswayingfrondsofpalmsleaninginaroundthepool.
AndonceagainIhadthesenseofatrap,ofadestinynotshapedbymyowndeedsanddesires.Itwasasiftheconstellationsthemselveswerejusttheoutlinesofanimmensecagethatrevolvedandrealigneditself,inscrutably,untilthesinglemomentthatfatehadreservedforme.TherewastoomuchthatIdidn’tunderstand.TherewastoomuchthatIwouldn’tallowmyselftoask.AndIwasexcited,inthatwebofconnectionsandconcealments.Thescentofdanger,thesmelloffear,filledmysenses.Theheart-squeezing,enliveningexhilarationofitwassopowerfulthatitwasn’tuntilanhourlater,whenweenteredAbdulGhani’spassportworkshop,thatIcouldgivemyfullattentiontothemanandthemomentthatweshared.
“ThisisKrishna,andthisisVillu,”Ghanisaid,introducingmetotwoshort,slender,dark-skinnedmenwhoresembledoneanothersocloselythatIthoughttheymightbebrothers.“Therearemanyexpertsinthisbusiness,manymenandwomenwithadetective’seyefordetail,andasurgeon’sconfidentsteadinessofhand.ButmyexperienceoftenyearsinthecounterfeitingartstellsmethattheSriLankans,suchasourKrishnaandVillu,arethebestforgersintheworld.”
Themensmiledwidely,withperfectwhiteteeth,inresponsetothecompliment.Theywerehandsomemen,theirfacesformedfromfine,almostdelicatefeatures,inaharmonyofgentlecontoursandcurves.Theyreturnedtotheirworkaswestrolledaboutthelargeroom.
“Thisisthelight-box,”AbdulGhaniexplained,wavinghisplumphandatalongtable.Itwastoppedwithwhiteopaqueglass.
Stronglightsshonefromwithinitsframe.“Krishnaisourbestlight-boxman.Heexaminesthepagesofgenuinepassports,lookingforwatermarksandconcealedpatterns.Inthisway,hecanduplicatetheseeffectswhereweneedthem.”
IbentoverKrishna’sshouldertowatchhimashestudiedtheinformationpageofaBritishpassport.Acomplexpatternofwavylinesdescendedfromthetopofthepage,acrossaphotograph,andontothebottomofthepage.Onanotherpassportbesideit,Krishnawasmatchingthepatternofwavylinesontheedgeofasubstitutedphotograph,creatingthelineswithafine-tippedpen.Usingthelight-box,heplacedonepatternovertheothertocheckforirregularities.
“Villuisourbeststampman,”AbdulGhanisaid,guidingmetoanotherlongtable.Onarackatthebackofthetable,therewererowsofmanymorerubberstamps.
“Villucanmakeanystamp,nomatterhowintricateitsdesign.
Visastamps,exitandentry,specialpermissionstamps-whateverweneed.Hehasthreenewprofile-cuttingmachines,forreproducingthestamps.Themachinescostmedearly-Ihadtoimportthem,allthewayfromGermany-andIspentalmostasmuchagain,inbaksheesh,gettingthemthroughcustomscontrolsandintoourworkshopwithoutanyunpleasantquestions.ButourVilluisanartist,andheoftenpreferstoignoremybeautifulmachines,andcutthenewstampsbyhand.”
IwatchedasVillucreatedanewstamponablankrubbertemplate.Hecopiedaphotographicenlargementoftheoriginal-adeparturestampfromAthensairport-andcutthenewstampwithscalpelsandjeweller’sfiles.Inkpadtestsofthenewstamprevealedminorflaws.Whenthosewerefinallyeradicated,Villuusedascrapofwet-and-drysandpapertowearawayonecornerofthestamp.Thatdeliberateimperfectiongavetheinkedimageagenuine,naturalappearanceonthepage.Thecompletedstampjoinedscoresofothersintherackofstampswaitingtobeusedonnewlyalteredpassports.
AbdulGhanicompletedhistourofthefactory,demonstratingthecomputers,photocopyequipment,printingpresses,profilecutters,andreservesofspecialparchmentpapersandinks.WhenI’dseenalltherewastoseeonafirstvisit,heofferedmealiftbacktoColaba.Ideclined,askinghimifImightstayandspendsometimewiththeSriLankanforgers.Heseemedpleasedwithmyenthusiasm,orperhapssimplyamused.Whenheleftme,Iheardhisheavysighasthesadnessofbereavementclaimedhimoncemore.
Krishna,Villu,andIdrankchaiandtalkedforthreehourswithoutapause.Althoughtheyweren’tbrothers,theywerebothTamilSriLankanswhocamefromthesamevillageontheJaffnapeninsula.ConflictbetweentheTamilTigers-theLiberationTigersforTamilEelam-andtheSriLankanarmyhadobliteratedtheirvillage.Almostallthemembersofbothfamiliesweredead.
Thetwoyoungmenescaped,withVillu’ssister,acousin,Krishna’sgrandparents,andhistwoyoungnieces,whowereunderfiveyearsold.AfishingboatbroughtthemtoIndia,onthepeople-smugglingroutebetweenJaffnaandtheCoromandelcoast.
TheymadetheirwaytoBombayandthenlivedonafootpath,underasheetofplastic,aspavementdwellers.
They’dsurvivedthatfirstyearbytakingill-paidjobsasdaylabourers,andbycommittingavarietyofpettycrimes.Then,oneday,afootpath-neighbour,who’dlearnedthattheycouldreadandwritewellinEnglish,askedthemtochangealicencedocument.
Theirworkwasgood,anditbroughtasteadilyincreasingstreamofvisitorstotheirplasticawningontheBombayfootpath.
Hearingoftheirskill,AbdulGhanihadrecommendedtoKhaderbhaithattheybegivenachancetoprovethemselves.Twoyearslater,atthetimethatImetthem,KrishnaandVillusharedalarge,comfortableapartmentwiththesurvivingmembersoftheirtwofamilies,savedmoneyfromtheirgeneroussalaries,andwerearguablythemostsuccessfulforgersinBombay,India’scounterfeitingcapital.
Iwantedtolearneverything.Iwantedthemobilityandsecuritythattheirpassportskillsofferedme.TheyspokeEnglishwell.
Myenthusiasmfuelledtheirnaturalcongeniality,andthatfirstconversationflowedwithgoodhumour.Itwasapropitiousstarttothenewfriendship.
IvisitedKrishnaandVillueverydayforaweekafterthatmeeting.Theyoungmenworkedlonghours,andonsomedaysIremainedwiththemfortenhoursatastretch,watchingthemwork,andaskingmyseveralhundredquestions.Thepassportsthattheyworkedonfellintotwomaingroups-thosetheyobtainedasgenuine,usedpassports,andthosethatwereblankandunused.
Theusedpassportshadbeenstolenbypickpockets,lostbytourists,orsoldbydesperatejunkiesfromEurope,Africa,theAmericas,andOceania.Theblankpassportswererare.They’dbeensoldbycorruptofficialsatconsulatesandembassiesanddepartmentsofimmigration,fromFrancetoTurkeytoChina.ThosethatfoundtheirwayintoKhaderbhai’sareaofinfluencewereboughtimmediately,atanyprice,andgiventoKrishnaandVillu.
Theyshowedmeablank,original,unusedpassportfromCanada,asanexample.ItwashousedinafireproofsafewithothersfromtheUnitedKingdom,Germany,PortugalandVenezuela.
Withsufficientpatience,expertise,andresources,thetwoforgerscouldchangealmostanythinginapassporttosuitanewuser’srequirements.Photographsweresubstituted,andtheridgemarksorindentationsofaheavystampwereimitated,usingsomethingashumbleasacrochethook.Sometimesthestitchingthatboundapassportwascarefullyremoved,andwholegroupsofpageswerereplaced,usingcleanpagesfromasecondpassport.
Dates,details,andstampswereallalteredorerasedwithchemicalsolvents.Newdatawasinsertedinanappropriateshade,selectedfromacomprehensivecatalogueofprinter’sinks.Someofthechangesdefiedthescrutinyofexperts,andnoneofthemwasdetectableinroutineexaminations.
Duringthatfirstweekofpassportstudies,Ifoundanew,safe,comfortableapartmentforUllainneighbouringTardeo,notfarfromtheHajiAliMosque.LisaCarter,who’dvisitedUllaalmosteverydayatAbdullah’sapartment-andvisited,farmorewarmly,withAbdullahhimself-agreedtosharethenewplace.Wemovedthemandtheirbelongingsinasmallfleetoftaxis.Thetwowomenlikedoneanother,andgotonwell.Theydrankvodka,cheatedatScrabbleandginrummy,enjoyedthesamekindsofmoviesonvideo,andswappedclothes.
They’dalsodiscovered,intheweeksthey’dspentinAbdullah’ssurprisinglywell-stockedkitchen,thattheylikedoneanother’scooking.Thenewapartmentwasanewbeginningforthemand,despiteUlla’slingeringfearsaboutMaurizioandhiscrookeddeals,sheandLisawerehappyandoptimistic.
IcontinuedtheweighttrainingandkaratewithAbdullah,Salman,andSanjay.Wewerefitandstrongandfast.Andasthedaysoftrainingbecameweeks,AbdullahandIgrewcloser,asfriendsandbrothers,justasSalmanandSanjaywerewithoneanother.Itwasthekindofclosenessthatdidn’tneedconversationtosustainitself:quiteoftenwewouldmeet,traveltothegym,workoutontheweights,boxafewrounds,spendhalfanhoursparringatkarate,andspeaknomorethantenwordstooneanother.
Sometimes,withnomorethanalookinmyeyeoranunusualexpressiononhisface,wewouldlaugh,andkeeponlaughingsohardthatwecollapsedtothepracticemats.Andinthatway,withoutwords,IslowlyopenedmyhearttoAbdullah,andIbegantolovehim.
I’dspokentotheheadmanoftheslum,QasimAliHussein,andtoseveralothers,includingJohnnyCigar,whenI’dfirstreturnedfromGoa.IsawPrabakerinhistaxieveryotherday.ButthereweresomanynewchallengesandrewardsinGhani’spassportworkshop,andtheykeptmesobusyandexcited,thatIstoppedworking,evenoccasionally,attheslumclinicI’dfoundedinthelittlehutthathadbeenmyhome.
Onmyfirstvisittothesluminseveralweeks,IwassurprisedtofindPrabakerinthewrigglingconvulsionsofadancewhiletheslummusicianswererehearsingoneoftheirpopularsongs.
Thelittleguidewasdressedinhistaxidriver’skhakishirtandwhitetrousers.Heworeapurplescarfaroundhisneck,andyellowplasticsandals.Approachinghimunobserved,Iwatchedhiminsilenceforawhile.Hisdancemanagedtocombineobscenelylewdandsuggestivethrustsofhishipswiththefacialexpressionsandhand-whirlinggesturesofachild-likeinnocence.
Withclownishcharmheheldhisopenpalmsbesidehissmilingfaceonemoment,andthenpumpedhisgroinbackandforthwithadeterminedlittlegrimacethenext.Whenhefinallyturnedandsawme,hisfaceexplodedinthathugesmile,thatuniquelywideandheart-filledsmile,andherushedtogreetme.
“Oh,Lin!”hecried,squeezinghisheadintomychestinanaffectionatehug.“Ihaveanewsforyou!Ihaveitsuchafantasticnews!Iwaslookingforyouineveryplace,everyhotelwithnakedladies,everydrinkingbarwithblack-marketpeoples,everydirtyslum,every-”
“Igetthepicture,Prabu.So,what’syournews?”
“Iamtobegettingmarried!IammakingamarriageonParvati!
Canyoubelieveit?”
“Sure,Icanbelieveit.Congratulations.Itakeityouwerepractising,justnow,fortheweddingparty.”
“Oh,yes!”heagreed,lungingatmewithhishipsafewtimes.“Iwantaverysexydancingforeverybodyattheparty.It’saprettygoodsexy,isn’tit?”
“It’s…sexy…sure.Howarethingshere?”
“Veryfine.Noproblem.Oh,Lin!Iforgot!Johnny,heismakingamarriagealso.HewillbemarriedwithSita,thesisterofmyownbeautifulParvati.”
“Whereishe?Iwanttosayhello.”
“Heisdownattheseashore,youknow,attheplacewherehesitsontherocks,forbeinglonely-thesameplacewhereyoualsoenjoyagoodlonely.You’llfindhimthere.”
Iwalkedoff,glancingbackovermyshouldertoseePrabakerencouragingthebandwithmechanical,piston-likethrustsofhisnarrowhips.Attheedgeoftheslum,whereblackboulderstumbledtothesea,IfoundJohnnyCigar.Hewasdressedinawhitesingletandachequeredgreenlungi.Hebracedhimselfwithhisarms,leaningback,andstaringouttosea.Itwasalmostexactlythesamespotwherehe’dtoldmeaboutseawater,sweat,andtearsontheeveningofthecholeraoutbreak,somanymonthsbefore.
“Congratulations,”Isaid,sittingbesidehimandofferinghimabeediecigarette.
“Thanks,Lin,”hesmiled,shakinghishead.Iputthepacketaway,andforawhilewebothwatchedthesmallpetulantwavessmackattherockyshore.
“Youknow,Iwasbroughtintothislife-conceived,Imean,notborn-justoverthere,intheNavyNagar,”hesaid,noddinghisheadtowardthecompoundoftheIndianNavy.AcurveofcoastlineseparatedusfromtheNagar,butadirectlineofsightacrossthesmallbaygaveusaclearviewofthehouses,huts,andbarracks.
“MymotherwasfromDelhi-sideoriginally.Herfamily,theywereallChristians.TheymadegoodmoneyintheserviceoftheBritish,buttheylosttheirposition,andtheirprivileges,aftertheIndependence.TheymovedtoBombaywhenmymotherwasfifteenyearsold.Herfathertookemploymentwiththenavy,workingasaclerk.Theylivedinazhopadpattinearhere.Mymotherfellinlovewithasailor.Hewasatall,youngfellowfromAmritsar,withthebestmoustacheinthewholeNagar.Whenshebecamepregnantwithme,herfamilythrewherout.Shetriedtogetsomehelpfromthesailorwhowasmyfather,buthelefttheNagar,andsheneversawhimorheardabouthimagain.”
Hepaused,breathingthroughhisnose,withhislipspressedtightlytogether.Hiseyessquintedagainsttheglarefromtheglitteringsea,andthefresh,persistentbreeze.Behinduswecouldhearthenoisesoftheslum-hawkers’cries,theslapofclothesonstoneinthewashingarea,childrenplaying,abickeringcomplaint,andthejanglingmusicforPrabaker’spiston-hips.
“Shehadatoughtimeofit,Lin.Shewasheavilypregnantwithmewhentheythrewherout.Shemovedtoapavement-dwellersettlement,acrossinCrawfordMarketarea,andworethewidow’swhitesari,pretendingthatshe’dhadahusband,andpretendingthathewasdead.Shehadtodothat-shehadtobecomeawidow,forlife,beforeshewasevenmarried.That’swhyInevergotmarried.I’mthirty-eightyearsold.Icanreadandwriteverywell-mymothermadesureIwaseducated-andIdothebookworkforalltheshopsandbusinessesintheslum.Idothetaxesforeverymanwhopaysthem.Imakeagoodlivinghere,andIhaverespect.Ishould’vebeenmarriedfifteenoreventwentyyearsago.Butshewasawidow,allherlife,forme.AndIcouldn’tdoit.Ijustcouldn’tallowmyselftogetmarried.IkepthopingIwouldseehim,thesailorwiththebestmoustache.Mymotherhadoneveryold,fadedphotographofthetwoofthem,lookingveryseriousandstern.That’swhyIlivedinthisarea.IalwayshopedIwouldseehim.AndInevermarried.Andshediedlastweek,Lin.Mymotherdiedlastweek.”
Heturnedtome,andthewhitesofhiseyeswereblazingwiththetearshewouldn’tletthemshed.
“Shediedlastweek.Andnow,I’mgettingmarried.”“I’msorrytohearaboutyourmother,Johnny.ButI’msureshe’dwantyoutogetmarried.Ithinkyou’llmakeagoodfather.Infact,Iknowyou’llmakeagoodfather.I’msureofit.”
Helookedatme,hiseyestalkingtomeinalanguageIcouldfeelbutcouldn’tunderstand.WhenIlefthim,hewasstaringattheceaselessnessofthesea,irritatedtochequered,whiteriftsbythewind.
Iwalkedbackthroughtheslumtotheclinic.AconversationwithAyubandSiddhartha,thetwoyoungmenI’dtrainedtoruntheclinic,reassuredmethatallwaswell.Igavethemsomemoneytokeep,asanemergencyfloat,andleftmoneywithPrabakerforhisweddingpreparations.IpaidacourtesyvisittoQasimAliHussein,allowinghimtoforcethehospitalityofchaiuponme.
JeetendraandAnandRao,twoofmyformerneighbours,joinedus,withseveralothermenIknewwell.QasimAliledtheconversation,referringtohissonSadiq,whowasworkingintheGulf.Inturn,wespokeofreligiousandcommunalconflictinthecity,theconstructionofthetwintowers;stillatleasttwoyearsfromcompletion,andtheweddingsofPrabakerandJohnnyCigar.
Itwasagenial,sanguinemeeting,andIrosetoleavewiththestrengthandconfidencethatthosehonest,simple,decentmenalwaysinspiredinme.I’donlywalkedafewpaces,however,whentheyoungSikh,AnandRao,caughtup,andfellintostepbesideme.
“Linbaba,thereisaproblemhere,”hesaidquietly.Hewasanunusuallysolemnmanatthebestoftimes,butatthatmomenthisexpressionwasunambiguouslygrim.“ThatRasheed,thatfellowIusedtobesharingwith.Doyouremember?”
“Yes.Rasheed.Irememberhim,”Ireplied,recallingthethin,beardedfaceandrestless,guiltyeyesofthemanwho’dbeenmyneighbour,withAnand,formorethanayear.
“Heismakingabadbusiness,”AnandRaodeclaredbluntly.“Hiswifeandhersistercamefromtheirnativeplace.Iwentfromthathutwhentheycame.Hehasbeenlivingwiththemalonenow,forsometime.”
“And…what?”Iasked,aswewalkedoutontotheroadtogether.IhadnoideawhatAnandRaowasdrivingat,andIhadnopatienceforit.Itwasthekindofvague,insinuatedcomplaintthathadcometomealmosteverydaywhenI’dlivedintheslum.Mostofthetime,suchcomplaintscametonothing.Mostofthetime,itwasinmybestintereststohavenothingtodowiththem.“Well,”AnandRaohesitated,perhapssensingmyimpatience,“itis…heis…somethingisverybad,andIam…theremustbe…”
Hefellsilent,staringathissandaledfeet.Ireachedouttoputahandonhisbroad,proud,thinshoulder.Graduallyhiseyeslifted,andmetmineinamuteappeal.
“Isitmoney?”Iasked,reachingintomypocket.“Doyouneedsomemoney?”
HerecoiledasifI’dcursedhim.Heheldthestare,foramoment,beforeturningandwalkingbackintotheslum.
Istrodeonthroughfamiliarstreets,andtoldmyselfthatitwasokay.AnandRaoandRasheedhadsharedahutformorethantwoyears.IftheywerefallingoutbecauseRasheed’swifeandhersisterhadmovedtothecity,andAnandhadbeenforcedfromthehut,itwasprobablytobeexpected.Anditwasnobusinessofmine.Ilaughed,shakingmyheadasIwalked,andtryingtofigureoutwhyAnandRaohadreactedsobadlytotheofferofmoney.Itwasn’tanunreasonablethingformetoassumeortooffer.Onthethirty-minutewalkfromtheslumtoLeopold’s,Igavemoneytofiveotherpeople,includingbothoftheZodiacGeorges.He’llgetoverit,whateveritis,Itoldmyself.Atanyrate,it’sgotnothingtodowithme.Butthelieswetellourselvesaretheghoststhathaunttheemptyhouseofmidnight.
AndalthoughIpushedAnandandtheslumfrommymind,IfeltthebreathofthatghostedlieonmyfaceasIwalkedthroughthelong,throngingCausewayonthathotafternoon.
IsteppedupintoLeopold’s,andDidierseizedmebythearmbeforeIcouldspeakorsitdown,turningmeaboutandleadingmetoacabthatwaswaitingoutside
“Ihavesearchedforyoueverywhere,”Didierpuffedasthecabpulledoutfromthekerb.“Ihavebeentothemostunspeakablyfoulplaces,lookingforyou.”
“Peoplekeeptellingmethat.”
“Well,Lin,youreallymusttrytospendmoretimeinplaceswheretheyserveadecentalcohol.Itmaynotmakethefindingofyoueasier,butitwillmakeitfarmorepleasant.”
“Wherearewegoing,Didier?”
“Vikram’sgreatstrategy-myownsuperbstrategy,ifyouplease-forthecaptureofLetitia’scoldandstonylittleEnglishheartunfolds,now,evenaswespeak.”“Yeah,well,Iwishhimallthebest,”Ifrowned,“butI’mhungry.IwasabouttomakeveryloudnoisesinaplateofLeopold’spulao.Youcanletmeoffhere.”
“But,no!Itisnotpossible!”Didierobjected.“Letitia,sheisaverystubbornwoman.Shewouldrefusegoldanddiamondsifsomeoneinsistedthatsheshouldtakethem.Shewillnotparticipateinthestrategyunlesssomeoneconvincesher.Someonelikeyou,myfriend.Andthismustbeachievedinthenexthalfhour.Atexactlysixminutesafterthreeo’clock.”
“WhatmakesyouthinkLettiewilllistentome?”
“Youaretheonlyoneofusshedoesnotnowhate,orhasnothatedatsometimeinthepast.ForLetitia,thestatementIdonothateyouisapoemofpassionatelove.Shewilllistentoyou.Iamsureofit.Andwithoutyou,theplanwillfail.AndthegoodVikram-asiflovingsuchawomanasourLetitiawasnotsufficienttoprovehismentalderangement-hehasalreadyriskedhislife,severaltimes,tomaketheplanpossible.Youcannotimaginehowmuchpreparationwehavemade,VikramandI,forjustthismoment.”
“Well,nobodytoldmeanythingaboutit,”Icomplained,stillthinkingofthedeliciouspulaoatLeopold’s.
“ButthatisexactlywhyIhavesearchedforyoualloverColaba!
Youhavenochoice,Lin.Youmusthelphim.Iknowyou.Thereisinyou,asthereisinme,amorbidbeliefinlove,andafascinationforthemadnessthatloveputsinitsvictims.”
“Iwouldn’tputquitethatspinonit,Didier.”
“Youcanspinithowyouwill,”hereplied,laughingforthefirsttime,“Butyouhavethelovedisease,Lin,andyouknow,inyourheart,thatyoumusthelpVikram,justasImusthelphim.”
“OhGod,”Irelented,lightingabeedietostaveoffthehunger.
“I’lldowhatIcantohelp.What’stheplan?”
“Ah,itisquitecomplicated-”
“Justaminute,”Isaid,raisingmyhandtointerrupthimquickly.“Isthisschemeofyoursdangerous?”
“Well…”
“Anddoesitinvolvebreakingthelaw?”
“Well…”
“Ithoughtso.Then,don’ttellmeuntilwegetthere.I’vegotenoughtoworryabout.”“D’accord.Iknewthatwecouldcountonyou.Alors,speakingofworry,Ihavealittlenewsthatmaybeofsomehelptoyou.”
“Let’shaveit.”
“Thewomanwhomadethecomplaintaboutyou,thewomanwhoputyouintheprison,sheisnotIndian.Ihavelearnedit,beyondanydoubt.Sheisaforeignerwholiveshere,inBombay.”
“There’snothingelse?”
“No.Iregret,thereisnothingmore.Notatthistime.ButIwillnotrestuntilIknowall.”
“Thanks,Didier.”
“It’snothing.Youarelookingwell,bytheway.Perhapsevenbetterthanbeforeyouwenttotheprison.”
“Thanks.I’malittleheavier,andalittlefitter.”
“Andalittle…crazier…perhaps?”
Ilaughed,avoidinghiseye,becauseitwastrue.ThetaxipulledupatMarineLinesStation.MarineLineswasthefirstrailwaystationafterthecentralcityterminus,atChurchgateDepot.WeclimbedthepedestrianrampandfoundVikram,withseveralofhisfriends,waitingforusonthestationplatform.
“Oh,fuck!ThankGodyou’rehere,man!”hesaid,pumpingmyhandinafrantic,two-handedshake.“Ithoughtyouweren’tcoming.”
“WhereisLetitia?”Didierasked.
“She’sdowntheplatform,yaar.She’sbuyingacolddrink.Seeherthere,justpastthechaishop?”
“Ah,yes.Andsheknowsnothingoftheplan?”
“Notafuckin’thing,man.I’msonervousthatit’snotgoingtowork,yaar.Andwhatifshegetskilled,Didier?Itwon’tbeagoodlookforus,man,ifmyproposalkillsher!”
“Killingherwoulddefinitelybeabadstart,”Imused.
“Don’tworry.Itwillbeokay,”Didiersoothed,althoughhemoppedhisbrowwithascentedhandkerchiefashiseyessearchedtheemptytracksforanapproachingtrain.“Itwillwork.Youmusthavefaith.”
“That’swhattheysaidatJonesville,yaar.”
“Whatdoyouwantmetodo,Vikram?”Iasked,hopingtocalmhimdown.
“Okay,”hereplied,puffingasifhe’djustrunupaflightofsteps.“Okay.First,Lettiehastostandjusthere,facingyou.
JustlikeI’mstandingnow.”“U-huh.”
“Ithastoberighthere.Exactlyhere.We’vecheckeditoutahundredfuckin’times,man,andithastobejusthere.Haveyougotthat?”
“I…thinkso.You’resayingthatshehastostandjust-”
“Here!”
“Here?”Iteasedhim.
“Fuck,man,thisisserious!”
“Okay!Takeiteasy.YouwantmetomakeLettiestandhere.”
“Yeah.Here.Andyourjobistogethertoputtheblindfoldon.”
“The…blindfold?”
“Yeah.She’sgottowearablindfold,Lin.Itwon’tworkwithoutit.Andshehastoleaveiton,evenwhenitgetsveryscary.”
“Scary…”
“Yeah.That’syourjob.Justconvincehertoputtheblindfoldon,whenwegiveyouthesignal,andthenconvincehertokeepiton,yaar,evenifshe’sscreamingabit.”
“Screaming…”
“Yeah.Wethoughtaboutagag,butwedecided,youknow,agagmightbeabitcounter-fuckin’-productive,yaar,becauseshemightfreakoutabit,withagag.Andshe’sgoingtofreakoutenoughasitis,withoutusingafuckin’gagonher.”
“A…gag…”
“Yeah.Okay,hereshecomes!Getreadyforthesignal.”
“Hello,Lin,youfatbastard,”Lettiesaid,givingmeakissonthecheek.“You’rereallybeefingout,aren’tyou,son?”
“Youlookgood,too,”Ireplied,smilingatthepleasureofseeingher.
“So,what’sthisallaboutthen?”sheasked.“Itlookslikethegang’sallhere.”
“Youdon’tknow?”Ishrugged.
“No,ofcourseIdon’t.VikramjusttoldmeweweremeetingyouandDidier-hullo,Didier-andhereweallare.What’sup?”
ThetrainfromChurchgateStationcameintoview,approachingusatasteadypace.Vikramgavemethesignal,openinghiseyesaswidelyasthemuscleswouldallow,andshakinghishead.IputmyhandsonLettie’sshoulders,gentlyturningheruntilshestoodasVikramhadrequested,withherbacktothetracks.
“Doyoutrustme,Lettie?”Iasked.Shesmiledupatme.
“Abit,”shereplied.
“Okay,”Inodded.“Well,Iwantyoutodosomething.It’sgonnasoundstrange,Iknow,butifyoudon’tdoit,you’llneverknowhowmuchVikramlovesyou-howmuchwe_allloveyou.It’sasurprisethatwefiguredoutforyou.It’saboutlove…”
Thetrainslowedbehindherasitenteredthestation.Hereyesweregleaming.Asmileflickeredandfadedonheropenlips.Shewasintriguedandexcited.VikramandDidierweregesturingwildly,behindherback,formetohurry.Thetrainstoppedwithawheezycreakofmetaltriumph.
“So,hereitis-youhavetoputablindfoldon,andyouhavetopromiseusnottolookuntilwetellyou.”
“Isthatit?”
“Well,yeah,”Ishrugged.
Shelookedatme.Shestared.Shesmiledintomyeyes.Sheraisedhereyebrows,andturneddownthecornersofhermouthassheconsideredit.Thenshenodded.
“Okay,”shelaughed.“Let’sdoit.”
Vikramleaptforwardwiththeblindfoldandtiediton,askingherifitwastootight.Heguidedherasteportwobackwards,towardthetrain,andthentoldhertoraiseherarmsoverherhead.
“Raisemyarms?What,likethis?Ifyoutickleme,Vikram,you’llpay!”
Somemenappearedattheedgeoftherooflineonthetraincarriage.They’dbeenlyingontheroofofthetrain.Theyleanedover,andseizedLettie’sraisedarms,liftingherslightframeeffortlesslyontotheroofwiththem.Lettieshrieked,butthepiercingsoundwaslostintheshrillofthetrainguard’swhistle.Thetrainbegantomove.
“Comeon!”Vikramshoutedtome,climbinguptheoutsideofthecarriagetojoinher.
IglancedatDidier.
“No,myfriend!”heshouted.“Thisisnotforme.Yougo!Hurry!”
Ijoggedalongbesidethetrain,andclambereduptheoutsideofthecarriagetotheroof.Therewereadozenmenormoreontheroof.Someofthemweremusicians.Sittingtogether,theycradledtablas,cymbals,flutes,andtambourinesintheirlaps.Furtheralongthedustyroofwasasecondgroup.Lettiesatinthemiddleofthem.Shestillworetheblindfold.Menheldherattheshoulders-oneoneacharm,andtwofrombehind-tokeephersafe.Vikramkneltinfrontofher.
IheardhispleadingasIcreptalongtherooftowardthematacrouch.
“Ipromiseyou,Lettie.Itreallyisagreatsurprise.”
“Oh,it’safriggin’surpriseallright,”sheshouted.“Andnothalfasbigasthesurpriseyou’regonnaget,whenwegetdownfromhere,VikrambloodyPatel!”
“Hi,Lettie!”Icalledtoher.“Greatview,eh?Oh,sorry.Forgotabouttheblindfold.Well,it_willbeagreatview,whenyoucanseeit.”
“Thisisfuckin’madness,Lin!”sheshoutedatme.“Tellthesebastardstoletgoofme!”
“Thatwouldn’tbewise,Lettie,”Vikramanswered.“They’rehangingontoyousoyoudon’tfall,yaar,orstandup,andsnagyourselfonanoverheadwire,orsomething.It’sreallyonlyanotherhalfaminute,Ipromiseyou,andthenyou’llunderstandwhatallishappening.”
“Iunderstand,don’tyouworry.Iunderstandthatyou’readeadman,Vikram,whenIgetdownfromhere.Youmightaswellthrowmeoffthebloodyroofnow,I’mtellin’ya!IfyouthinkI-”
Vikramuntiedtheblindfold,andwatchedherasshelookedaround,takingintheperspectivefromtheroofofthefastmovingtrain.Hermouthfellopen,andherfaceslowlyswelledintoawidesmile.
“Wow!It’s…Wow!Itreallyisagreatview!”
“Look!”Vikramcommanded,turningtopointalongtheroofsofthetraincarriages.Therewassomethingstretchedacrossthetracks,muchhigherthantherooflineofthetrain.Itwasstrungbetweenthepylonsupportsfortheoverheadelectricwires.Itwasahugebanner,puffedlikethesailofashipinthesteadybreeze.
Therewerewordspaintedonit.Aswenearedthebanner,thewritingbecameclearenoughtoread.Thewordswerepaintedinlettersastallasaman.Theyfilledthewholewidthofthebillowingsheet:
LETITIAILOVEYOU
“Iwasafraidyouwouldstandupandhurtyourself,”Vikramsaid.
“That’swhythosefellowswereholdingontoyourarms.”
Suddenly,themusiciansstruckupthechiming,thuddingstrainsofapopularlovesong.Theirvoicessoaredoverthebloodstirringthumpofthetablasandthewailoftheflutes.VikramandLettiestaredatoneanother,theireyesholdingasthetrainpulledintoastation,stopped,andpulledoutagain.Halfwaytothenextstation,weapproachedanotherbanner.Vikramwrenchedhiseyesfromhers,andlookedahead.Shefollowedhisgaze.Morewordswerewrittenacrossthetautwhitecloth:
WILLYOUMARRYME?
Wepassedbeneaththepennantandoutintothesoftafternoonlight.Lettiewascrying.Theywerebothcrying.Vikramthrewhimselfforwardandwrappedherinhisarms.Theykissed.IwatchedthemformomentandthenIturnedawaytofacethemusicians.Theygrinnedatme,waggingtheirheadsandlaughingastheysang.Ididalittlevictorydanceforthemasthetrainrockedandrumbledthroughthesuburbs.
Millionsofdreamswerebornthere,aroundus,everyday.
Millionsofdreamsdiedthere,andwerebornagain.Thehumidairwasthickwithdreams,everywhere,inmyMumbai.Mycitywasasteaming,swelteringhothousegardenofdreaming.Andthere,onthatred-brownrustingmetalroof,anewdreamoflovewasborn.
AndIthoughtofmyfamilyaswerushedthroughthehumiddreamingair.AndIthoughtaboutKarla.AndIdancedonthatsteelserpentasitslitheredsinuousbesidethescrollandswelloftheendless,imperishablesea.
AndalthoughVikramandLettiedisappearedforaweek,aftersheacceptedhisproposal,alightnessandoptimismthatwaslikehappinesscirculatedintheLeopold’scrowd.Whenhefinallydidreturn,thatpositivefeelinggreetedVikramwithrealaffection.
AbdullahandIhadjustfinishedourtrainingandweteasedhim,mercilessly,forhisdelirious,exhaustedjoy.Then,whileVikramblubberedaboutlove,weateinhungry,purposefulsilence.
Didierwasjubilant,crowingoverthetriumphofhisromanticscheme,anddemandingmodesttributes,intheformofstiffdrinks,fromeveryoneweknew.
Ilookedupfrommyplateoffoodtoseeaman,oneofthestreetboyswhoscroungedfortheblackmarketeers,gesturingtomeinsomeanxiety.Ileftthetable,andwalkedtothefootpathtospeakwithhim.
“Lin!Bigtroubleforyou,”hesaidquickly,lookingleftandrightnervously.“Threemen.Africans.Bigmen.Verystrong.Theylookforyou.Theywanttokillyou.”“Killme?”
“Yes.Sure.Betteryougo.GofastfromBombayforawhile!”
Heranoff,andIlostsightofhiminthecrowd.Puzzled,butnotworried,Ireturnedtothetable.I’donlyeatentwomouthfulswhenanothermancalledmeouttothestreet.ItwasGeminiGeorge.
“Ithinkyou’reinaspotofbother,oldchum,”hesaid.Histonewascheery,buthisfacewastenseandafraid.
“U-huh.”
“Seemsthere’sthreebull-neckedAfricangeezers-Nigerians,Ithink-andtheymeantodoyouabitofgrievousbodilyharm,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
“Wherearethey?”
“Idunno,mate.Iseenthemtalkin’withsomeofthestreetboys,butthentheygotinataxiandtookoff.They’refuckin’biglads,Itellya.Theyfilledthattaxi,withabitoffleshtospare.Fairlybulgin’outthewindowstheywere,knowwhatImean?”
“What’sitabout?”
“Noidea,mate.Theydidn’tsaynothin’whatthey’reonabout,Lin.They’rejustlookin’foryou,andtheygottroubleinmind.
I’dwatchmyback,andI’dwatchmystep,sunshine.”
Ireachedintomypocket,butheputahandonmywrist.
“No,mate.Onthehouse.Imean,it’snotright,whatevertheirgameis.”
HesaunteredoffinpursuitofapassingtrioofGermantourists,andIwalkedbackintotherestaurant.WithGeminiGeorge’swarningtosupportthefirst,Iwasworried.Ittookmelongerthanusualtofinishmymeal.Soonafter,therewasathirdvisitor.ItwasPrabaker.
“Lin!”hesaid,hisexpressionfrenzied.“Thereisabadnews!”
“Iknow,Prabu.”
“Threemen,African,theyarewantingtobeatandkillandbeatyou!Theyareaskingquestionseverywhere.Suchbigfellowstheyare!Likebuffalos!Youmustmakealuckyescapes!”
Ittookmefiveminutestocalmhimdown,andeventhenIhadtoinventamissionforhim-checkingfortheAfricansatthehotelsheknewwell-inordertoprisehimfrommyside.AloneagainwithDidier,Vikram,andAbdullah,weconsideredmyoptions,inalengtheningsilence.Vikramwasthefirsttospeak.“Okay,sowefindthefuckers,andbreaktheirheads,yaar,”hesuggested,lookingfromfacetofaceforsupport.
“Afterwekillthem,”Abdullahadded.
Vikramwaggedhisheadfromsidetosideinagreement.
“Twothingsaresure,”Didiersaidslowly.“One,youmustnotbealone,Lin,atanytime,untilthisisresolved.”
VikramandAbdullahnodded.
“IwillcallSalmanandSanjay,”Abdullahdecided.“Youwillnotbealone,Linbrother.”
“Andtwo,”Didiercontinued,“theothers,whoevertheyare,whatevertheirreasons,mustnotremaininBombay.Theymustgo-oneway,ortheotherway.”
Wegotuptopaythebillandleave.Didierstoppedmewhentheotherswalkedtothecashier’sdesk.Hepulledmedownintoachairbesidehim.Slidinganapkinfromthetable,hefumbledunderthetable’sedgeforamomentandthenslidabundleacrosstome.Itwasapistol,wrappedinthenapkin.No-oneknewthatDidiercarriedagun.IwassurethatIwasthefirsttoseeandhandletheweapon.Graspingittightlyinthenapkinwrapping,Istoodandjoinedtheothersastheylefttherestaurant.Ilookedbackovermyshouldertoseehimnoddinggravely,thecurlyblackhairtremblingabouthisface.
Wefoundthem,butittookusallthedayandmostofthenight.
IntheenditwasHassaanObikwa,anotherNigerian,whogaveusthedecisiveclue.Themenweretourists,completelynewtothecity,andunknowntoObikwa.Hehadnopreciseideaoftheirmotive-itwassomethingtodowithadrugdeal-buthisnetworkofcontactshadconfirmedthattheyweredeterminedtodomeharm.
Hassaan’sdriver,Raheem,almostfullyrecoveredfromtheinjurieshe’dsufferedinprison,discoveredthattheywereinoneoftheFortareahotels.Heofferedto_resolvethematter.
HewasconsciousofthedebtheowedmeforbuyinghimoutofArthurRoadPrison.Withanearnest,almostshyexpression,heofferedtohavethemenkilled,slowlyandpainfully,asapersonalfavortome.Heseemedtothinkthatitwastheleasthecoulddo,underthecircumstances.Irefused.Ihadtoknowwhatitwasallabout,andIhadtoputastoptoit.Clearlydisappointed,Raheemacceptedthedecision,andthenledustothesmallhotelintheFort.Hewaitedoutsidewithourtwocarswhilewewentinside.SalmanandSanjayremainedwithhim,watchingthestreet.Theirbriefwastostopthecops,iftheyarrived,orslowthemuplongenoughforustoleavethehotel.
OneofAbdullah’scontactssmuggledus,whispering,intoaroomadjoiningthattakenbythethreeAfricans.Wepressedourearstotheconnectingwall,andcouldheartheirvoicesclearly.Theywerejoking,andtalkingabouttrivial,unrelatedthings.
Finally,oneofthemmadearemarkthattightenedtheskinonmyskullandfacewithdread.
“Hegotthatmedal,”oneofthemsaid.“Aroundhisneck.Thatmedalisgold.Iwantthatgoldmedal.”
“Ilikethemshoes,thembootshegot,”anothervoicesaid.“Iwantthemshoes.”
Theywentontotalkabouttheirplan.Theyarguedalittle.Oneofthemenwasmoreforceful.Theothersagreed,atlast,withhisideatofollowmefromLeopold’sallthewaytothequietcarparkbeneathmyapartmentbuildingandthenbeatmeuntilIwasdead,andstripmybody.
Itwasbizarre,standinginthedarkandlisteningtothedetailsofmyownmurder.Mystomachdroppedandtightenedonacurdlingmixofnauseaandrage.Ihopedtohearsomeclue,somereferencetoamotive,buttheynevermentionedone.Abdullahwaslisteningwithhisleftearagainstthethinpartition,andIwaslisteningwithmyright.Oureyeswereonlyahand’swidthapart.Thesignaltomove,whenInoddedmyhead,wasagesturesofaintandsubtlethatitwasasifourmindshadspokenthemessage.
Vikram,Abdullah,andIstoodoutsidethedoortotheirroom,withapasskeypoisedoverthelock.Wecounteddown_three…
_two…_one…thenIturnedthekeyandtriedthedoor.Itwasn’tlockedfromtheinside.Istoodback,andkickeditopen.
Therewasasecond,threeseconds,ofutterstillness,asthesurprisedandfrightenedmenstaredatus,theirjawsgapingandtheireyesbulging.Nearesttouswasatall,verysolidmanwithabaldhead,anddeepscarscutintohischeeksinaregularpattern.Heworeasingletandboxershorts.Standingbehindhimwasaslightlyshorterman,whowasdressedonlyinjockeyshorts.Hewasbendingoverawaist-highdressingtable,poisedintheactofsnortingalineofheroin.Thethirdmanwasshorterstill,butverythickinthechestandarms.Helayononeofthethreebeds,atthefurthestcorneroftheroom,holdingaPlayboymagazineinhishands.Therewasastrongsmellintheroom.Itwasthesmellofsweatandfear.Someofitwasmine.
Abdullahclosedthedooroftheroombehindhim,veryslowlyandgently,andlockedit.Hewaswearingblack:healmostalwaysworeablackshirtandpants.Vikramwasdressedinhisblackcowboyrig.Bysomechance,ItooworeablackT-shirtandblacktrousers.Wemust’velookedlikethemembersofsomeclub,organg,tothegoggle-eyedmenintheroom.
“Whatthefuck-”thebigmanbellowed.
Iranathimandrammedafistintohismouth,buthehadtimetoraisehishands.Wegrabbedateachother,fistsflying,andlockedinahardgrapple.
Vikramsprangforthemanonthebed.Abdullahclosedonthemanatthedresser.Itwasashortfight,andadirtyone.Thereweresixofus-sixbigmeninasmallroom.Therewasnowheretogobutintoeachother.
Abdullahfinishedhismanquickly.Iheardafrightenedshriek,chokedoff,asAbdullahsnappedahard,straight,righthandtotheman’sthroat.Fromthecornerofmyeye,Iwasawarethatthesolidmanfellback,graspingandclutchingathisthroat.Themanonthebedjumpedtohisfeetandkickedoutward,tryingtousetheadvantageofhighground.AbdullahandVikramtippedthebedup,sendingthemansprawlingbehindit.Theyleaptovertheupturnedbedandfellonhim,stompingandkickinghimuntilhestoppedmoving.
Iheldthestrapofthebigman’ssingletwithmylefthand,andpoundedathimwithmyright.Ignoringtheblowstohishead,hemanagedtogethishandsaroundmyneck,andstartedtosqueeze.
Mythroatlockedtight.IknewthatthebreathIheldinmewasthelastuntilIfinishedhim.Ireachedoutforhisface,desperately,withmyrighthand.Mythumbfoundhiseye.Iwantedtopushitintohisbrain,buthemovedhishead,andthethumbslippedbetweentheeyeandthehardridgeofboneathistemple.
IdrovethethumbinharderanddeeperuntilIgougedhiseyefromthesocket,andithungtherefrombloodystrands.Itriedtoreachit,toripitawayortodigmythumbintotheemptysocket,buthepulledbacktothelimitofhisreach.Theeyehungoutonhischeek,andIswungmyfistathishead,tryingtocrushit.
Hewasahardman.Hedidn’tgiveup.Hishandssqueezedtighter.
Myneckwasstrongandthemuscleswerewelldeveloped,butIknewhehadthestrengthtokillme.Myhandreached,gropingforthepistolinmypocket.Ihadtoshoothim.Ihadtokillhim.Thatwasallright.Ididn’tcare.Theairinmylungswasspent,andmybrainwasexplodinginMandelbrotwhirlsofcoloredlight,andIwasdying,andIwantedtokillhim.
Vikramcrashedaheavywoodenstoolintothebackofthebigman’sbaldhead.It’snotaseasytoknockamanoutasitseemsinthemovies.It’struethataluckyhitcandoitinoneshot,butI’vebeenhitwithironbars,lumpsofwood,boots,andmanyhardfists,andI’veonlyeverbeenknockedoutonceinmylife.
Vikramslammedtheheavystoolintothebackoftheman’sheadfivetimes,withallofhisstrength,beforethebigmanbuckledandfell.Hewasdefeated,andgroggy.Thebackofhisheadwaspulpy.Iknewthathisskullwasfracturedinseveralplaces.
Somehow,hewasstillconscious.
Weworkedonthemforhalfanhour,overcomingtheirinitialreluctancetotalk.Raheemjoinedus,speakinginEnglishandtheirNigeriandialect.Theirpassportstolduswhotheywere-Nigeriancitizens,ontouristvisas.Otherinformationintheirwalletsandluggagetolduswherethey’dstayedinLagosbeforetheycametoBombay.Littlebylittle,thestoryemerged.Theyweremuscle:hitmen,sentbyagangsterinLagostopunishmeforamajorheroinandMandraxtabletdealthathadgonewrong.
Thedealinvolvedsomesixtythousanddollars-moneythattheirbossinLagoshadlostinahustleinBombay.Thehustler,whoeverhewas,hadnominatedmeasthemastermindoftheplan;themanresponsibleforrippingoffthemoney.
Thehiredthugssurrenderedthatmuchinformation,butthentheybalked.Theydidn’twanttogivemetheman’sname.Theydidn’twanttotellmewho’dsetmeup.Theydidn’twanttobetrayhimwithouttheexpresspermissionoftheirNigerianboss.Weinsisted,andtheywerepersuaded.Theman’snamewasMaurizioBelcane.
Iputthebigman’seyebackintoitssocket,butitstaredoutatastrangeangle.Fromthewaythatheturnedhisheadtolookatme,Iguessedthathecouldn’tseeoutofit,yet,andIsuspectedthatitwouldneversitcorrectlyagain.Weclosedtheeyewithtape,bandagedhishead,andtidiedtheothermenup.
ThenIspoketothem.
“Thesemenwilltakeyoutotheairport.You’regonnawaitinthecarpark.There’saplanetoLagostomorrowmorning.You’regonnabeonit.We’regonnabuytheticketswithyourmoney.Andgetthisstraight-Ihadnothingtodowiththis.That’snotyourfault-it’sMaurizio’s-butthatdoesn’tmakemeanyhappieraboutit.
I’mgonnafixMaurizio,forlyingaboutme.That’smybusiness,now.Youcangobacktoyourboss,andtellhimthatMauriziowillgetwhat’scomingtohim.Butifyouevercomebackhere,we’llkillyou.Understand?YoucomebacktoBombay,youdie.”
“Yeah,youfuckin’understand?”Vikramshoutedatthem,lashingoutwithakick.“YoucomehereandfuckwithIndians,youfuckin’fuck-heads!Indiaisfinishedforyou!YoucomebackhereandIwillpersonallycutoffyourfuckin’balls!Doyouseemyhat?Youseethemarkonmyfuckin’hat,youfuckin’bahinchhud?
Youputamarkonmyfuckin’hat!Youdon’tfuckwithanIndianguy’shat!Youdon’tfuckwithIndianguysforanyreason,hatornohat!Notever!Andespeciallynot,iftheydowearahat!”
Ileftthem,andtookacabtoUlla’snewapartment.ShewouldknowwhereMauriziowas,ifanyoneknew.Mythroatwasaching,andIcouldhardlytalk.TheguninmypocketwasallIcouldthinkabout.Itswelled,inmymind,untilitwashuge:untilthepatternofridgesonthehandlewasaslargeasthewaleofbarkonacorktree.ItwasaWaltherP38,oneofthebestsemiautomaticpistolsevermade.Itfireda9mmroundfromaneightshotmagazine,andinmymindIsawalleightofthempunchtheirwayintoMaurizio’sbody.Imumbledthename,Maurizio,Maurizio,andavoiceinmyhead,avoicethatIknewverywell,said,Getridofthegunbeforeyouseehim…
Iknockedhardonthedooroftheapartment,andwhenLisaopeneditIbrushedpasthertofindUllasittingonacouchintheloungeroom.Shewascrying.ShelookedupwhenIentered,andIsawthatherlefteyewasswollen,asifshe’dbeenhit.
“Maurizio!”Isaid.“Whereishe?”
“Lin,Ican’t,”shesobbed.“Modena…”
“I’mnotinterestedinModena.IwantMaurizio.Tellmewhereheis!”
Lisatappedmeonthearm.Iturned,andnoticedforthefirsttimethatshehadalargekitchenknifeinherhand.Shejerkedherheadtowardthenearestbedroom.IlookedatUlla,andthenbacktoLisa.Shenoddedatme,slowly.
Hewashidinginawardrobe.WhenIdraggedhimout,intotheroom,hepleadedwithme,beggingmenottohurthim.Igrabbedthebeltatthebackofhistrousers,andmarchedhimtothedooroftheapartment.Hescreamedforhelp,andIhithiminthefacewiththepistol.Hescreamedagain,andIhithimagain,muchharder.
Hislipsparted,andhewantedtocryout,oncemore,butIbeathimtoit,crunchingthegunintothetopofhisheadasheflinchedaway.Hewasquiet.
Lisasnarledathim,brandishingtheknife.
“You’reluckyIdidn’tputthisinyourguts,yousonofabitch!
Ifyoueverhitheragain,I’llkillyou!”
“Whatdidhewanthere?”Iaskedher.
“It’sallaboutthemoney.Modena’sgotit.UllacalledMaurizio–”
Shestopped,shockedbythefuryshesawonmyfaceasIglaredatUlla.
“Iknow,Iknow,shewasn’tsupposedtocallanyone.Butshedid,andshetoldhimaboutthisplace.Shewassupposedtomeetthemboth,here,tonight.ButModenadidn’tshow.It’snotherfault,Lin.Shedidn’tknowMaurizioputyouinit.Hejusttoldusaboutit,then,aminuteago.HetoldushegaveyournametoacoupleofNigerianthugs.Heputyouinit,tosavehimself.Hesaidhehadtohavethemoney,togetaway,becausethey’dbeafterhimwhentheywerefinishedwithyou.Theherowastryingtobeatitoutofher,whereModenais,whenyougothere.”
“Where’sthemoney?”IaskedUlla.
“Idon’tknow,Lin,”shecried.“Fuckthemoney!Ididn’twantitinthefirstplace.ModenawasashamedthatIwasworking.Hedoesn’tunderstand.Iratherwouldworkonthestreet,andkeephimsafe,thanhavethiscrazythinghappen.Helovesme.Helovesme.Hedidn’thaveanythingtodowithyouandtheNigerians,Lin,Iswearit.ThatwasMaurizio’sidea.It’sbeengoingonforweeksnow.That’swhatI’vebeensoscaredabout.
Andthentonight,ModenagotholdofthemoneyMauriziostole-themoneyhestolefromtheAfricans-andhehidit.Hediditforme.Helovesme,Lin.Modenalovesme.”
Shetrailedoffinstutteringsobs.IturnedtoLisa.
“I’mtakinghimwithme.”
“Good!”shesnapped.
“Willyoubeokay?”
“Yeah.We’refine.”
“Haveyougotanymoney?”
“Yeah.Don’tworry.”“I’llsendAbdullahassoonasIcan.Keepthedoorslocked,anddon’tletanyoneinbutus,okay?”
“Yougotit,”shesmiled.“Thanks,Gilbert.That’sthesecondtimeyoucameridingtotherescue.”
“Forgetit.”
“No.Iwon’tforgetit,”shesaid,closingandlockingthedoorbehindus.
IwishIcouldsaythatIdidn’thithim.Hewasbigenoughandstrongenoughtodefendhimself,buthehadnoheartforfighting,andtherewasn’tanyvictoryinhittinghim.Hedidn’tfightorevenstruggle.Hewhimperedandcriedandbegged.IwishIcouldsaythatasternjusticeandarighteousrevengeforthewrongthathe’ddonetomehadcurledmyhandsintofists,andpunchedhim.ButIcan’tbesure.Evennow,longyearslater,Ican’tbesurethattheviolenceIdidtohimdidn’tcomefromsomethingdarker,deeper,andfarlessjustifiablethanangryretribution.ThefactwasthatI’dbeenjealousofMaurizioforalongtime.Andinsomepart,somesmallbutterriblepart,Imayhavestruckathisbeauty,andnotjusthistreachery.
Ontheotherhand,ofcourse,Ishould’vekilledhim.WhenIlefthim,bloodyandbroken,neartheSt.GeorgeHospital,awarningvoicetoldmeitwasn’ttheendofthematter.AndIdidhesitate,loomingoverhisbodywithmurderinmyeyes,butIcouldn’ttakehislife.Somethinghe’dsaid,whenhewasbeggingmetostopbeatinghim,stayedmyhand.Hesaidthathe’dnamedme,thathe’dthrownmetotheNigerianthugswhenhehadtoinventsomeoneelsewhowasresponsibleforhistheft,becausehewasjealousofme.Hewasjealousofmyconfidence,mystrength,andmyfriendships.Hewasjealousofme.Andinhisjealousy,hehatedme.Andinthat,weweren’tsodifferent,MaurizioandI.
Itwasstillwithme,allofit,thenextday,whentheNigeriansweregoneandIwenttoLeopold’s,lookingforDidiertoreturnhisunusedgun.Itwasstillwithme,clottingmymindwithanger,confusedinregret,whenIfoundJohnnyCigarwaitingformeoutside.Itwasstillthere,asIstruggledtofocus,andunderstandhiswords.
“It’saverybadthing,”hesaid.“AnandRaohaskilledRasheedthismorning.Hecuthisthroat.It’sthefirsttime,Lin.”
Iknewwhathemeant.Itwasthefirstmurderinourslum.Itwasthefirsttimethatoneslum-dwellerhadeverkilledanotherintheCuffeParadeslum.Thereweretwenty-fivethousandpeopleinthoselittleacres,andtheyfoughtandarguedandbickeredallthetime,butnone,notoneofthem,hadeverkilledanother.Andintheshockedmoment,IsuddenlyrememberedMadjid.He,too,hadbeenmurdered.I’dmanaged,somehow,topushthethoughtofhisdeathawayfrommywaking,workingmind,butithadbeengnawingthroughthescreenofmycomposureslowly,steadily,allthewhile.Anditbrokethroughthen,withthenewsofRasheed’sdeath.Andthatothermurder-theslaughter,Ghanihadsaid-oftheoldgoldsmuggler,themafiadon,becameconfusedwiththebloodthatwasonAnand’shands.Anand,whosenamemeanthappy.
Anand,who’dtriedtotalktomeandtellmeaboutit,who’dcometomethatdayintheslumforhelp,andfoundnone.
Ipressedmyhandstomyface,andranthemthroughmyhair.Thestreetarounduswasasbusyandcolourfulasever.ThecrowdatLeopold’swerelaughing,talking,anddrinking,astheyusuallydid.ButsomethinghadchangedintheworldthatJohnnyandIknew.Theinnocencewaslost,andnothingwouldeverbethesame
Iheardthewordstumblingoverandoverinmymind.Nothingisevergonnabethesame…Nothingisevergonnabethesame…
Andavision,thekindofpostcardthatfatesendsyou,flashedbeforemyeyes.Therewasdeathinthatvision.Therewasmadness.Therewasfear.Butitwasblurred.Icouldn’tseeitclearly.Icouldn’tseethedetail.Ididn’tknowifthedeathandmadnesswerehappeningtome,orhappeningaroundme.Andinasense,Ididn’tcare.Intoomanywaysofshameandangryregret,Ididn’tcare.Iblinkedmyeyes,andclearedmyswollenthroat,andsteppedupoffthestreetintothemusic,thelaughter,andthelight.
PARTFOUR
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
“TheIndiansaretheItaliansofAsia,”Didierpronouncedwithasageandmischievousgrin.“Itcanbesaid,certainly,withequaljustice,thattheItaliansaretheIndiansofEurope,butyoudounderstandme,Ithink.ThereissomuchItalianintheIndians,andsomuchIndianintheItalians.TheyarebothpeopleoftheMadonna-theydemandagoddess,evenifthereligiondoesnotprovideone.Everymaninbothcountriesisasingerwhenheishappy,andeverywomanisadancerwhenshewalkstotheshopatthecorner.Forthem,foodismusicinsidethebody,andmusicisfoodinsidetheheart.ThelanguageofIndiaandthelanguageofItaly,theymakeeverymanapoet,andmakesomethingbeautifulfromeverybanalite.Thesearenationswherelove-amore,pyaar-makesacavalierofaBorsalinoonastreetcorner,andmakesaprincessofapeasantgirl,ifonlyforthesecondthathereyesmeetyours.ItisthesecretofmyloveforIndia,Lin,thatmyfirstgreatlovewasItalian.”
“Wherewereyouborn,Didier?”
“Lin,mybodywasborninMarseilles,butmyheartandmysoulwerebornsixteenyearslater,inGenova.”
Hecaughttheeyeofawaiter,andwavedahandlazilyforanotherdrink.He’dhardlytakenasipfromthedrinkonthetableinfrontofhim,soIguessedthatDidierwassettlinginforoneofhislongerdiscourses.ItwastwohourspastnoononacloudyWednesday,threemonthsaftertheNightoftheAssassins.
Thefirstrainsofthemonsoonwerestillaweekaway,buttherewasasenseofexpectancy,atension,thattightenedeveryheartbeatinthecity.Itwasasifavastarmywasgatheringoutsidethecityforanirresistibleassault.Ilikedtheweekbeforemonsoon:thetensionandexcitementIsawinotherswasliketheinvoluted,emotionaldisquietthatIfeltalmostallthetime.
“Mymotherwasadelicateandbeautifulwoman,thephotographsofherreveal,”Didiercontinued.“Shewasonlyeighteenyearsold,whenIwasborn,andnotyettwentywhenshedied.Theinfluenzaclaimedher.Buttherewerewhispers-cruelwhispers,andIheardthemmanytimes-thatmyfatherhadneglectedher,andwastoo,howdotheysayit,tightwithhismoneytopaydoctorswhenshefellill.Whateverthecase,shediedbeforeIwastwoyearsold,andIhavenomemoryofher.
“Myfatherwasateacherofchemistryandmathematics.Hewasmucholderthanmymotherwhenhemarriedher.BythetimeIstartedatschool,myfatherwastheheadmaster.Hewasabrilliantman,Iwastold,foronlyabrilliantJewcouldrisetothepositionofheadmasterinaFrenchschool.Theracisme,theanti-Semitism,inandaroundMarseillesatthattime,sosoonafterthewar,waslikeasickness.Itwasaguiltthatpinchedatthem,Ithink.Myfatherwasastubbornman-itisakindofstubbornnessthatpermitsonetobecomeamathematician,isn’tit?Perhapsmathematicsisitselfakindofstubbornness,doyouthink?”
“Maybe,”Ireplied,smiling.“Ineverthoughtaboutitthatway,butmaybeyou’reright.”
“Alors,myfatherreturnedtoMarseilles,afterthewar,andreturnedtotheveryhousethathehadbeenforcedtoleavewhentheJew-haterstookcontrolofthetown.HehadfoughtwiththeResistance,andhewaswounded,inhand-to-handfightingwiththeGermans.Becauseofthat,no-onedaredtochallengehim.Notopenly.ButIamsurethathisJewishfaceandhisJewishprideandhisbeautifulyoungJewishbrideremindedthegoodcitizensofMarseillesofthethousandsofFrenchJewswhowerebetrayedandsenttotheirdeaths.Anditwasacoldtriumphforhim,returningtothathousehehadbeenforcedoutof,andtothatcommunitythathadbetrayedhim.Andthatcoldnessclaimedhisheart,Ibelieve,whenmymotherdied.Evenhistouch,whenIthinkofitnow,wascold.Evenhishand,whenhetouchedme.”
Hepausedandtookasipfromhisglass,replacingitslowlyandcarefullyintheprecisecircleofmoistureithadleftonthetableinfrontofhim.
“Wellthen,hewasabrilliantman,”hecontinued,raisinghiseyestominewithahastilygatheredsmile.“And,withoneexception,hewasabrilliantteacher.Theexceptionwasme.Iwashisonlyfailure.Ihadnoheadforscienceandmathematics.
TheywerelanguagesIcouldneverdecipherorunderstand.Myfatherrespondedtomystupiditywithabrutaltemper.Hiscoldhand,itseemedtomewhenIwasachild,wassolargethatwhenhestruckmemywholebodywasshockedandbruisedbythegiant’shardpalmandthewhipsofhisfingers.Iwasafraidofhim,andashamedofmyfailuresatschool,soIplayedthetruantveryoften,andfellintowhattheEnglishcallabadcompany.Iwasmanytimesinthecourts,andservedtwoyearsintheprisonsforchildrenbeforemythirteenthbirthday.
Atsixteen,Ileftmyfather’shouse,myfather’scity,andmyfather’scountryforever.
“BychanceIcametoGenova.Haveyouseenit?Itellyou,itisthejewelinthetiaraoftheLiguriancoast.Andoneday,onthebeachatGenova,Imetamanwhoopenedmylifetoeverygoodandbeautifulthingthatthereisintheworld.HisnamewasRinaldo.
Hewasforty-eightyearsoldthen,whenIwassixteen.Hisfamilyheldsomeancienttitle,anoblelinethatreachedtothetimeofColumbus.Buthelivedinhismagnificenthouseonthecliffswithoutthepretensionsofhisrank.Hewasascholar,theonlytrueRenaissancemanIevermet.Hetaughtmethesecretsofantiquity,thehistoryofart,themusicofpoetry,andthepoetryofmusic.Hewasalsoabeautifulman.Hishairwassilverandwhite,likethefullmoon,andhisverysadeyesweregrey.
Incontrasttothebrutishhandsofmyfather,withtheirchillingtouch,Rinaldo’shandswerelong,slender,warm,expressive,andhemadetendernessineverythingthathetouched.
Ilearnedwhatitistolove,withallofthemindandallofthebody,andIwasborninhisarms.”
Hebegantocough,andattemptedtoclearhisthroat,butthecoughbecameafitthatwrackedhisbodyinpainfulspasms.
“You’vegottostopsmokinganddrinkingsomuch,Didier.Andyou’vegottadoalittleexercisenowandthen.”
“Oh,please,”heshuddered,stubbingoutacigaretteandfishinganotherfromthepackinfrontofhimasthecoughssubsided.
“Thereisnothingsodepressingasgoodadvice,andIwillbepleasedifyoudonotinflictituponme.Frankly,Iamshockedatyou.Youmustknowthis,surely?SomeyearsagoIsufferedsuchanoffensivelygratuitouspieceofgoodadvicethatIwasdepressedforsixmonthsafterward.Itwasaveryclosecall-Ialmostneverrecovered.”
“Sorry,”Ismiled.“Idon’tknowwhatcameoverme.”
“Youareforgiven,”hesniffed,downingoneglassofwhiskyasthewaiterbroughtthenext.“Youknow,”Iadmonishedhim,“Karlasaysthatdepressiononlyhappenstopeoplewhodon’tknowhowtobesad.”
“Wellsheiswrong!”hedeclared.“Iamanexpertinthetristesse.Itistheperfect,definitivehumanperformance.Therearemanyanimalsthatcanexpresstheirhappiness,butonlythehumananimalhasthegeniustoexpressamagnificentsadness.Andformeitissomethingspecial;adailymeditation.Sadnessismyoneandmyonlyart.”
Hepoutedforafewmoments,toopeevedtoproceed,butthenraisedhiseyestomeetmineandlaughedoutloud.
“Haveyouheardfromher?”heasked.
“No.”
“Butyouknowwheresheis?”
“No.”
“ShehasleftGoa?”
“IaskedaguyIknowdownthere,Dashrant-heownsarestaurantonthebeachwhereshewasstaying-Iaskedhimtokeepaneyeonher,andmakesureshewasokay.Icalledhimlastweek,andhetoldmesheleft.Hetriedtotalkherintostaying,butshe…well,youknow.”
Didierpursedhislipsinareflectivefrown.Webothwatchedtheshuffling,idling,bustling,scurryingstreetonlytwometresaway,beyondthewideentrancetoLeopold’s.
“Etbien,don’tworryyourselfaboutKarla,”Didiersaidatlast.
“Attheleast,sheiswellprotected.”
IassumedthatDidiermeantshecouldtakecareofherselfand,perhaps,thatshelivedunderagoodandluckysign.Iwaswrong.
Therewasmoretotheremarkthanthat.Ishould’veaskedhimwhathemeant,ofcourse.InthelongyearssincethatconversationI’veaskedmyselfathousandtimeshowdifferentmylifemight’vebeenifonlyI’daskedhimwhathemeantbythatremark.Instead,myheadfullofassumptionsandmyheartfullofpride,Ichangedthesubject.
“So…whathappened?”
“Happened?”heasked,bewildered.
“WhathappenedtoyouandRinaldoinGenova?”
“Ah,yes.Helovedme,andIlovedhim,itwastrue,buthemadeanerrorofthejudgment.Hegavemyloveatest.Heallowedmetodiscoverthesecretplacewherehekeptalargesumofcash.Icouldnotresistthetemptationthatheofferedtome.Itookthemoneyandranaway.Ilovedhim,butItookhismoney,andIranaway.Forallhiswisdom,hedidnotknowthatlovecannotbetested.Honestycanbetested,andloyalty.Butthereisnotestforlove.Lovegoesonforever,onceitbegins,evenifwecometohatetheonewelove.Lovegoesonforeverbecauseloveisborninthepartofusthatdoesnotdie.”
“Didyoueverseehimagain?”
“Yes.Yes,Idid.AnotherloopoffortunebroughtmebacktoGenova,almostfifteenyearslater.IwalkedonthesameboulevardofsandwherehehadtaughtmetoreadRimbaudandVerlaine.AndthenIsawhim.Hewassittingwithagroupofmenofhisownage-hewasmorethansixtythen-andtheywerewatchingtwoelderlymenplaychess.Heworeagreycardiganandablackvelvetscarf,althoughthedaywasnotcold.Hishairwasalmostgone.Thatsilvercrownofhair,itwas…gone.Hisfacewasallhollowspaces,andhisskinwasabadmixofbadcolours,asifhewasrecoveringfromaseriousillness.Perhapshewassuccumbingtoit.Idonotknow.Iwalkedonpasthim,avertingmygaze,sothatheshouldnotrecogniseme.Ievenpretendedastrange,stoopingwalktodisguisemyself.AtthelastmomentIglancedbackathim,watchingashecoughedviolentlyintoawhitehandkerchief.Therewasblood,Ithink,stainingthatwhitehandkerchief.IwalkedfasterandfasteruntilIranwiththehasteofamaninterror.”
Onceagainwesatinsilenceandallowedoureyestorovethepassingcrowds,followingamaninablueturbaninoneinstant,andawomaninablackmask,veil,andchadorthenext.
“Youknow,Lin,Ihavelivedwhatmany-ormost-wouldcallawickedlife.Ihavedonethingsthatcouldputmeinprison,andthingsthat,insomenations,couldseemeexecuted.TherearemanythingsIhavedonethatIcansay,Iamnotproud.ButthereisonlyoneactinmywholelifethatIcansay,Iamtrulyashamedofit.Ihurriedpastthatgreatman,andIhadmoneyenoughandtimeenoughandgoodhealthenoughtohelphim.Ihurriedpasthim,notbecauseIfeltguiltyaboutthetheftofhismoney.AndnotbecauseIwasafraidofhissickness,orthecommitmentitmightcostme.Ihurriedpastthatgoodandbrilliantmanwholovedme,andtaughtmehowtolove,simplybecausehewasold-becausehewasnotbeautifulanymore.”
Hedrainedhisglass,examineditsemptinessforamoment,andthenplaceditonthetableasgentlyandattentivelyasifitwasabouttoexplode.“Merde!Let’sdrink,myfriend!”hecriedatlast,butmyhandstayedhis,preventinghimfromsummoningthewaiter.
“Ican’t,Didier.IhavetomeetLisaattheSeaRock.Sheaskedmetorideoutthereandmeether.I’llhavetoleavenow,ifI’mgoingtomakeit.”
Heclenchedhisjawsonsomething-arequest,perhaps,oranotherconfession.Myhandstillrestedonhis.
“Look,youcancome,ifyoulike.It’snotaprivatemeeting,andit’sanicerideouttoJuhu.”
Hesmiledslowly,andslidhishandoutfromundermine.Stillstaringintomyeyes,heraisedhishand,pointingwithonefinger.Awaitercametothetable.Withoutlookingathim,Didierorderedanotherwhisky.WhenIpaidmybillandwalkedouttothestreet,hewascoughingagain,hunchedoveronehandandclutchinghisglasswiththeother.
I’dboughtabike,anEnfieldBullet,amonthbefore.Thetasteoftwo-wheeledadrenalinethatI’dexperiencedinGoahadnaggedatmeuntilIfinallysurrenderedtoit,andwentwithAbdullahtothemechanicwhoservicedhisbike.Themechanic,aTamilnamedHussein,lovedbikes,andlovedAbdullahalmostasmuch.
TheEnfieldhesoldtomewasinperfectcondition,anditneveronceletmedown.VikramwassoimpressedwithitthatheboughtonefromHusseinwithinaweek.Sometimeswerodetogether,Abdullah,Vikram,andI,ourthreebikessidebyside,andthesuninourlaughingmouths.
OnthatafternoonwhenIleftDidieratLeopold’sIrodeslowly,andgavemyselftimeandspacetothink.KarlawasgonefromthelittlehouseonAnjunabeach.Ihadnoideawhereshemightbe.
UllatoldmethatKarlahadstoppedwritingtoher,andIhadnoreasontothinkshewaslying.SoKarlawasgone,andtherewasnowaytofindher.AndeverydayIwokewithadreamorathoughtofher.EverynightIsleptwiththeknifeofregretinmychest.
MythoughtsdriftedtoKhaderbhaiasIrode.HeseemedwellpleasedwiththenicherolethatIwasplayinginhismafianetwork.Isupervisedcertainmovementsofsmuggledgoldthroughthedomesticandinternationalairports,exchangedsumsofcashwithagentsatthefive-starhotelsandairlineoffices,andarrangedtobuypassportsfromforeigners.TheywerealljobsthatagoracouldperformmoresuccessfullyandlessobtrusivelythananIndian.Myconspicuousnesswasastrangeandironicformofcamouflage.ForeignerswerestaredatinIndia.Somewhereinthefiveormoremillenniaofitshistory,theculturehaddecidedtodispensewiththecasual,nonchalantglance.BythetimeIcametoBombay,theeyecontactrangedfromanoglinggazetoagawping,goggle-eyedglare.Therewasnothingmaliciousinit.ThestaringeyesthatfoundandfollowedmeeverywhereIwentwereinnocent,curious,andalmostalwaysfriendly.Andthatintensescrutinyhaditsbenefits:forthemostpart,peoplestaredatwhatIwas,notwhatIdid.Foreignerswerestaredintoinvisibility.SoIwanderedinandoutoftravelagenciesorgrandhotels,airlineorbusinessoffices,followedineverystepbyeyesthatsawme,butnotthecrimesIcommittedintheserviceofthegreatKhan.
IrodeonpasttheHajiAliMosque,acceleratingintothewideavenueofafternoontraffic,andasIrodeIaskedmyselfwhyAbdelKhaderKhanneverreferredtothemurderofhisfriendandcolleagueMadjid.ItstillnaggedatmeandIwantedtoaskhimaboutit,buttheonetimethatI’dmentionedhisname,soonafterthemurder,KhaderhadlookedsostrickenwithgriefthatI’dletthesubjectlapse.Andasthedayshadpassedintoweeks,andtheweekshaddriftedintosilentmonths,I’dfounditimpossibletodragthesubjectintoourconversations.Itwasasif_Iwastheonewhowaskeepingsecrets;andnomatterhowthickmymindbecamewiththoughtsofthemurder,Ineveradmittedthemtohim.Instead,wetalkedbusinessorwespokeofphilosophy.Andduringthecourseofourlongdiscussionshefinallyansweredmybigquestion.Irememberedtheexcitementthathadrefractedinhiseyes,andthepride,perhaps,whenI’dprovedthatIunderstoodhisteaching.AndasIrodefromLeopold’stomymeetingwithLisaonthatdayofDidier’sconfession,Irememberedword-by-wordandsmile-by-smilethegreatKhan’sexplanation.
“Andso,youunderstandtheprincipleoftheargumenttothispoint?”
“Yes,”Iansweredhim.I’dcometohisDongrimansionthatnight,aweekbefore,togivehimareportonthechangesI’drecommendedandinitiatedinthepassportfactoryrunbyAbdelGhani.WithGhani’sapprovalandsupport,we’dexpandedtheoperationtoincludeafullpackageofidentitydocuments-driver’slicences,bankaccounts,creditcards,evenmembershipsofsportsclubs.Khaderwasdelightedwiththeprogressofthoseinnovations,buthesoonchangedthesubjecttotalkofhisfavouritethemes:goodandevil,andthepurposeoflife.“Perhapsyoucantellitbacktome,”henodded,lookingintotheplayfulflingandsplashofthefountain’splumesofwater.Hiselbowsrestedonthearmsofthewhitecanearmchair,andthetempleofhisfingertipspeakedathislipsandtheneat,silvergreymoustache.
“Ah…sure.Youweresayingthatthewholeuniverseismovingtowardsomeultimatecomplexity.Thishasbeengoingonsincetheuniversebegan,andphysicistscallitthetendencytowardcomplexity.And…anythingthatkicksthisalongandhelpsitisgood,andanythingthathindersitisevil.”
“Verygood,”Khadersaid,raisingoneeyebrowinthesmileheofferedme.Aswassooftenthecase,Iwasn’tsureifhewasexpressingapprovalormockeryorboth.Itseemed,withKhader,thatheneverfeltorexpressedanyoneemotionwithoutfeelingsomethingofitsopposite.Thatmightbetrueforallofus,tosomeextent.Butwithhim,withlordAbdelKhaderKhan,itwasn’tpossibletoknowwhathereallythoughtorfeltaboutyou.TheoneandonlytimethatIsawthewholeofthetruthinhiseyes-onasnow-coveredmountaincalledSorrow’sReward-itwasalreadytoolate,andIneversawitagain.
“Andthisfinalcomplexity,”headded,“itcanbecalledGod,ortheUniversalSpirit,ortheUltimateComplexity,asyouplease.
Formyself,thereisnoproblemincallingitGod.ThewholeuniverseismovingtowardGod,inatendencytowardtheultimatecomplexitythatGodis.”
“ThatstillleavesmewiththequestionIaskedyoulasttime.
Howdoyoudecidehowanyonethingisgoodorevil?”
“Thatistrue.Ipromisedyouananswertothisverygoodquestionthen,youngMr.Lin,andyouwillhaveit.But,first,youmustansweraquestionforme.Whyiskillingwrong?”
“Well,Idon’tthinkitisalwayswrong.”
“Ah,”hemused,hisambereyesglitteringinthesamewrysmile.
“Well,Imusttellyouthatit_isalwayswrong.Thiswillbecomeclear,laterinourdiscussion.Fornow,concentrateonthetypeofkillingthatyoudothinkiswrong,andtellmewhyitiswrong.”
“Yeah,well,it’stheunlawfultakingofalife.”
“Bywhoselaw?”
“Society’slaw.Thelawoftheland,”Ioffered,sensingthatthephilosophicalgroundwasslippingawaybeneathme.
“Whomakesthislaw?”heaskedgently.“Politicianspasslaws.Criminallawsareinheritedfrom…fromcivilisation.Thelawsagainstunlawfulkillinggoallthewayback-maybeallthewaybacktothecave.”
“Andwhywaskillingwrongforthem?”
“Youmean…well,I’dsay,becausethere’sonlyonelife.Youonlygetoneshotatit,andtotakeitawayisaterriblething.”
“Alightningstormisaterriblething.Doesthatmakeitwrong,orevil?”
“No,ofcoursenot,”Irepliedmoreirritably.“Look,Idon’tknowwhyweneedtoknowwhat’sbehindthelawsagainstkilling.
Wehaveonelife,andifyoutakealifewithoutagoodreasonyoudosomethingwrong.”
“Yes,”hesaidpatiently.“Butwhyisitwrong?”
“Itjust_is,that’sall.”
“Thisisthepointweallreach,”Khaderconcluded,moreseriousinhistone.Heputhishandonmywristasitrestedonthearmofmychairbesidehim,andhetappedouttheimportantpointswithhisfingers.“Ifyouaskpeoplewhykilling,oranyothercrime,iswrong,theywilltellyouthatitisagainstthelaw,orthattheBible,ortheUpanishads,ortheKoran,ortheBuddha’seight-foldpath,ortheirparents,orsomeotherauthoritytellsthemitiswrong.Buttheydon’tknowwhyitiswrong.Itmaybetrue,whattheysay,buttheydon’tknowwhyitistrue.
“Inordertoknowaboutanyactorintentionorconsequence,wemustfirstasktwoquestions.One,whatwouldhappenifeveryonedidthisthing?Two,wouldthishelporhinderthemovementtowardcomplexity?”
HepausedasaservantenteredwithNazeer.Theservantbroughtsweet,blacksuleimanichai,inlongglasses,andavarietyofirresistiblesweetsonasilvertray.NazeerbroughtaquestioningglanceforKhaderbhaiandascowlofunmitigatedcontemptforme.Khaderthankedhimandtheservant,andtheyleftusaloneoncemore.
“Inthecaseofkilling,”Khadercontinued,afterhe’dsippedtheteathroughacubeofwhitesugar.“Whatwouldhappenifeveryonekilledpeople?Wouldthathelporhinder?Tellme.”
“Obviously,ifeveryonekilledpeople,wewouldwipeeachotherout.So…thatwouldn’thelp.”
“Yes.Wehumanbeingsarethemostcomplexarrangementofmatterthatweknowof,butwearenotthelastachievementoftheuniverse.We,too,willdevelopandchangewiththerestoftheuniverse.Butifwekillindiscriminately,wewillnotgetthere.
Wewillwipeoutourspecies,andallthedevelopmentthatledtousacrossmillionsofyears-billionsofyears-willbelost.Thesamecanbesaidforstealing.Whatwouldhappenifeveryonestolethings?Wouldthathelpus,orwouldithinderus?”
“Yeah.Igetthepoint.Ifeveryonewasstealingoffeveryoneelsewe’dbesoparanoid,andwe’dwastesomuchtimeandmoneyonit,thatitwouldslowusdown,andwe’dneverget-”
“Totheultimatecomplexity,”hecompletedthethoughtforme.
“Thisiswhykillingandstealingarewrong-notbecauseabooktellsustheyarewrong,oralawtellsustheyarewrong,oraspiritualguidetellsustheyarewrong,butbecauseifeveryonedidthemwewouldnotmovetowardtheultimatecomplexitythatisGod,withtherestoftheuniverse.Andtheoppositeoftheseisalsotrue.Whyislovegood?Well,whatwouldhappenifeveryonelovedeveryoneelse?Wouldthathelpusorwoulditholdusback?”
“Itwouldhelp,”Iagreed,laughingfromwithinthetraphe’dsetforme.
“Yes.Infact,suchuniversallovewouldgreatlyacceleratethemovementtowardGod.Loveisgood.Friendshipisgood.Loyaltyisgood.Freedomisgood.Honestyisgood.Weknewthatthesethingsweregoodbefore-wehavealwaysknownthisinourhearts,andallthegreatteachershavealwaystoldusthis-butnow,withthisdefinitionofgoodandevil,wecanseewhytheyaregood.
Justaswecanseewhystealingandlyingandkillingareevil.”
“Butsometimes…”Iprotested,“youknow,whataboutselfdefence?Whataboutkillingtodefendyourself?”
“Yes,agoodpoint,Lin.Iwantyoutoimagineasceneforme.
Youarestandinginaroomwithadeskinfrontofyou.Ontheothersideoftheroomisyourmother.Aviciousmanholdsaknifetothethroatofyourmother.Themanwillkillyourmother.Onthetableinfrontofyouthereisabutton.Ifyoupressit,themanwilldie.Ifyoudonot,hewillkillyourmother.Thesearetheonlypossibleoutcomes.Ifyoudonothing,yourmotherdies.Ifyoupressthebutton,themandiesandyourmotherissaved.Whatwouldyoudo?”
“Theguy’shistory,”Iansweredwithouthesitation.
“Justso,”hesighed,perhapswishingthatI’dwrestledwiththedecisionalittlelongerbeforepressingthebutton.“Andifyoudidthis,ifyousavedyourmotherfromthisviciouskiller,wouldyoubedoingthewrongthingortherightthing?”“Therightthing,”Isaidjustasswiftly.
“No,Lin,I’mafraidnot,”hefrowned.“Wehavejustseenthatinthetermsofthisnew,objectivedefinitionofgoodandevil,killingisalwayswrongbecause,ifeveryonedidit,wewouldnotmovetowardGod,theultimatecomplexity,withtherestoftheuniverse.Soitiswrongtokill.Butyourreasonsweregood.Sotherefore,thetruthofthisdecisionisthatyoudidthewrongthing,fortherightreasons…”
AsIrodethewind,aweekafterKhader’slittlelectureonethics,weavingthebikethroughancient-moderntrafficbeneathadarkening,portentoustumbleofclouds,thosewordsechoedinmymind.Thewrongthing,fortherightreasons.Irodeonand,evenwhenIstoppedthinkingaboutKhader’slesson,thosewordsstillmurmuredinthelittlegreydaydream-spacewherememorymeetsinspiration.Iknownowthatthewordswerelikeamantra,andthatmyinstinct-fate’swhisperinthedark-wastryingtowarnmeofsomethingbyrepeatingthem.Thewrongthing…fortherightreasons.
Butonthatday,anhourafterDidier’sconfession,Iletthemurmuredwarningsfade.Rightorwrong,Ididn’twanttothinkaboutthereasons-notmyreasonsfordoingwhatIdid,orKhader’s,oranyone’s.Ienjoyedthediscussionsofgoodandevil,butonlyasagame,asanentertainment.Ididn’treallywantthetruth.Iwassickoftruth,especiallymyowntruth,andIcouldn’tfaceit.Sothethoughtsandpremonitionsechoedandthenwhippedpastmeintothecoilsofhumidwind.AndbythetimeIsweptintothelastcurveofcoastneartheSeaRockHotel,mymindwasasclearasthebroadhorizonclampeduponthelimitofadarkandtremuloussea.
TheSeaRock,whichwasasluxuriousandopulentlyservicedastheotherfive-starhotelsinBombay,offeredthespecialattractionthatitwasliterallybuiltuponthesearocksatJuhu.Fromallitsmajorrestaurants,bars,andahundredotherwindows,theSeaRockscannedtheendlesslyshiftingpeaksandfurrowsoftheArabianSea.Thehotelalsoofferedoneofthebestandmostcomprehensivelyeclecticsmorgasbordlunchesinthecity.Iwashungry,andgladtoseethatLisawaswaitingformeinthefoyer.Sheworeastarched,sky-blueshirtwiththecollarturnedup,andsky-blueculottes.Herblondehairwaswoundintothepraying-fingersofaFrenchbraid.She’dbeenclean,offheroin,formorethanayear.Shelookedtannedandhealthyandconfident.“Hi,Lin,”shesmiled,greetingmewithakissonthecheek.
“You’rejustintime.”
“Great.I’mstarving.”
“No,Imeanyou’rejustintimetomeetKalpana.Justaminute-hereshecomesnow.”
Ayoungwomanwithafashionablywesternshorthaircut,hipsterjeans,andatight,redT-shirtapproachedus.Sheworeastopwatcharoundherneckonalanyard,andcarriedaclipboard.
Shewasabouttwenty-sixyearsold.
“Hello,”IsaidwhenLisaintroducedus.“Isthatyourrigoutside?Thebroadcastvans,andallthecables?Areyoushootingamovie?”
“Supposedtobe,yaar,”sherepliedintheexaggeratedvowelsoftheBombayaccentthatIlovedandfoundmyselfunconsciouslyimitating.“Thedirectorhasgoneoffsomewherewithoneofourdancers.It’smeanttobeasecret,yaar,butthewholedamnsetistalkingaboutit.We’vegotaforty-fiveminutebreak.
Although,mindyou,that’sabouttentimesaslongasourguywillneed,fromwhatallI’mtoldabouthisprowess.”
“Okay,”Isuggested,smackingmyhandstogether.“Thatgivesustimeforlunch.”
“Fucklunch,let’sgetstonedfirst,yaar,”Kalpanademurred.
“Haveyougotanyhash?”
“Yeah,”Ishrugged.“Sure.”
“Didyoubringacar?”
“I’monaBullet.”
“Okay,let’susemycar.It’sinthecarpark.”
Weleftthehotel,andsatinhernewFiattosmoke.WhileIpreparedthejoint,shetoldmethatshewasanassistanttotheproducerofthatandseveralotherfilms.Oneofherdutieswastooverseethecastingofminorrolesinthefilms.She’dsubcontractedthetasktoacastingagent,buthewasexperiencingdifficultyinfindingforeignerstofillthesmall,non-speaking,decorativeroles.
“Kalpanagottalkingaboutthisatdinnerlastweek,”LisasummedupwhenKalpanabegantosmoke.“Shetoldmethatherguyscouldn’tfindforeignerstoplaythepartsinthemovies-youknow,thepeopleatadiscoorapartysceneor,like,Britishpeople,inthetimeoftheBritishRajandlikethat.So…Ithoughtofyou.”“U-huh.”
“Itwouldbeagreathelpifyoucouldgetthegorasformewhenweneedthem,”Kalpanasaid,offeringmewhatseemedtobeawell-practisedleer.Practisedornot,itwasdamnedeffective.
“Weprovideacabtobringthemtotheshootandtakethemhomeagain.Wegivethemafulllunchduringthebreak.Andwepayabouttwothousandrupeesaday,perperson.Wepaythatto_you,plusabonuscommissionperhead.Whatyoupaythem,well,it’suptoyou.Mostofthemarehappytodoitfornothing,andarerealsurprised,youknow,whentheyfindoutweactuallypaythemtobeinthemovies.”
“Whaddayasay?”Lisaaskedme,hereyesgleamingthroughtherosefilterofherstone.
“I’minterested.”
Mymindwastrawlingthroughthepossiblelateralbenefitsinthearrangement.Someofthemwereobvious.Themoviemakerswereafairlyaffluentcrowdoffrequentflyerswhomightneedblackmarketdollarsanddocuments,fromtimetotime.Itwascleartome,aswell,thatthecastingjobwasimportanttoLisa.Onitsown,thatwasreasonenoughformetogetinvolved.Ilikedher,andIwasgladthatshewantedtolikeme.
“Good,”Kalpanaconcluded,openingthedoorandsteppingouttothecarpark.Wewalkedbacktothehotelfoyer,eachofuswithsunglassesclampedtooureyes.Weshookhandsatthesamespotwherewe’dmethalfanhourbefore.
“Haveyourlunch,”shesaid.“I’llgobacktotheset.We’reintheballroom.Whenyou’realldone,followthecablesandyou’llfindme.I’llintroduceyoutotheguys,andyoucanstartrightaway.Weneedafewforeignersfortomorrow’sshoot,here.Twoguysandtwogals,yaar.Blonde,Swedentypes,ifyoucanfindthem.Hey-thatwasKashmirihash,_na?We’llgetalongjustfine,Lin,youandme.Ciao!Ciao,baby.”
Intherestaurant,LisaandIheapedourplateshigh,andsatfacingtheseatoeat.
“Kalpana’sokay,”shesaidbetweenmouthfuls.“She’ssarcasticasallhell,sometimes,andshe’sarealambitiousgirl-don’tmakeanymistakeaboutthat-butshe’sastraighttalkerandarealfriend.Whenshetoldmeaboutthecastingjob,Ithoughtaboutyou.Ithoughtyoumightbeableto…makesomethingoutofit…”“Thanks,”Isaid,meetinghereyeandtryingtoreadher.“Iappreciatethethought.Doyouwanttobepartnersinitwithme?”
“Yes,”sheansweredquickly.“Iwashoping…hopingyou’dwantto.”
“Wecouldworkitouttogether,”Isuggested.“Idon’tthinkI’llhaveanytroublegettingforeignerstoworkinthemovies,butIdon’treallywanttodotherestofit.Youcoulddothatpart,ifyoulike.Youcouldorganisepickingthemup,lookingafterthemontheset,andmakingthepaymentsandallthat.I’lltalkthemintoit,andyoutakeitfromthere.I’dbegladtoworkwithyou,ifyou’reinterested.”
Shesmiled.Itwasagoodsmile;thekindyouliketokeep.
“I’dlovetodoit,”shegushed,flushingpinkwithembarrassmentunderhertan.“Ireallyneedtodosomething,Lin,andIthinkI’mready.WhenKalpanaranthiscastingthingbyme,Iwantedtojumpatit,butIwastoonervoustotakeitonalone.Thanks.”
“Don’tmentionit.How’sitgoingwithyouandAbdullah?”
“Mmmm,”shemumbled,finishingamouthfuloffood.“I’mnotworking,ifyouknowwhatImean,sothat’ssomething.I’mnotworkingatthePalace,andI’mnotusing.Hegavememoney.Alotofmoney.Idon’tknowwherehegotit.Idon’treallycare.It’smoremoneythanI’veeverseeninonebundlebeforeinmywholelife.It’sinthiscase,thismetalcase.Hegaveittome,andaskedmetolookafteritforhim,andtospenditwheneverIneedit.Itwasrealspooky,kindalike…Idunno…likehislastwillandtestament,orsomething.”
Iraisedoneeyebrowunconsciouslyinaquizzicalexpression.Shecaughtthelook,reflectedamoment,andthenresponded.
“Itrustyou,Lin.You’retheonlyguyinthiscityIdotrust.
Funnythingis,Abdullah’stheguygavemethemoneyandall,andIthinkIlovehim,inakindofinsaneway,butIdon’ttrusthim.Isthatahorriblethingtosayabouttheguyyoulivewith?”
“No.”
“Doyoutrusthim?”
“Withmylife.”
“Why?”
Ihesitated,andthenthewordsdidn’tcome.Wefinishedourmealandsatbackfromthetable,lookingatthesea.
“We’vebeenthroughsomethings,”Isaidafterawhile.“Butit’snotjustthat.Itrustedhimbeforewedidanyofthat.Idon’tknowwhatitis.Amantrustsanothermanwhenheseesenoughofhimselfinhim,Iguess.Ormaybewhenheseesthethingshewisheshehadinhimself.”
Weweresilentforatime,eachofustroubled,andstubbornlytemptingfateinourownways.
“Areyouready?”Iaskedher.Shenoddedinreply.“Let’sgotothemovies.”
Wefollowedtheblackvinesofrelaycablesfromthegeneratorvansoutsidethehotel.Theyledusthroughasideentranceandpastaprocessionofbustlingassistantstothebanquetroom,whichhadbeenhiredasaset.Theroomwasfilledwithpeople,powerfullights,dazzlingreflectorpanels,cameras,andequipment.Secondsafterweentered,someoneshoutedQuiet,please!Andthenariotousmusicalnumberbegan.
Hindimoviesaren’ttoeveryone’staste.SomeforeignersI’ddealtwithhadtoldmethattheyloathedthekaleidoscopicturmoilofmusicalnumbers,burstingstochasticallybetweenweepingmothers,sighinginfatuates,andbrawlingvillains.Iunderstoodwhattheymeant,butIdidn’tagreewiththem.Ayearbefore,JohnnyCigarhadtoldmethatinformerlivesImust’vebeenatleastsixdifferentIndianpersonalities.I’dtakenitasahighcompliment,butitwasn’tuntilIsawmyfirstBollywoodmovieshootthatIknewatlast,andexactly,whathe’dmeant.Ilovedthesinging,thedancing,andthemusicwiththewholeofmyheartfromtheveryfirstinstant.
Theproducershadhiredatwo-thousand-wattamplifier.Themusiccrashedthroughthebanquetroomandrattledintoourbones.Thecolourswerefromatropicalsea.Themillionlightswereasdazzlingasasun-strucklake.Thefaceswereasbeautifulasthosecarvedontemplewalls.Thedancingwasafrenzyofexcited,exuberantlasciviousnessandancientclassicalskills.
Andthewhole,improbablycoherentexpressionofloveandlife,dramaandcomedy,wasarticulatedinthedelicate,unfurledeleganceofagracefulhand,orthewinkofaseductiveeye.
Foranhourwewatchedasthedancenumberwasrehearsedandrefinedandfinallyrecordedonfilm.Duringabreak,afterthat,KalpanaintroducedmetoCliffDeSouzaandChandraMehta,twoofthefourproducersofthefilm.DeSouzawasatall,curlyhaired,thirty-year-oldGoanwithadisarminggrinandalopingwalk.ChandraMehtawasclosertoforty.Hewasoverweight,butcomfortablewithit:oneofthosebigmenwhoexpandtofitabigideaofthemselves.Ilikedbothmenand,althoughtheyweretoobusytotalkforlong,thatfirstmeetingwascordialandcommunicative.
IofferedLisaaliftbacktotown,butshe’darrangedtoridewithKalpana,andshechosetowait.Igaveherthephonenumberatmynewapartment,tellinghertocallifsheneededme.Onmywayoutthroughthefoyer,IsawKavitaSinghalsoleavingthehotel.We’dbothbeensobusyinrecentmonths-shewithwritingaboutcrimes,andmewithcommittingthem-thatwehadn’tseenoneanotherformanyweeks.
“Kavita!”Icalledout,runningforwardtocatchher.“JustthewomanIwantedtosee!Thenumber-onereporter,onBombay’snumber-onenewspaper.Howareyou?You…look…great!”
Shewasdressedinasilkpantsuit.Itwasthecolourofbleachedbone.Shecarriedalinenhandbaginthesamecolour.Thesinglebreastedjacketdescendedtoadeepd%ecolletage,anditwasobviousthatshewaswearingnothingunderthejacket.
“Oh,comeoffit!”shesnapped,grinningandembarrassed.“Thisismydressed-to-killoutfit.IhadtointerviewVasantLai.Ijustcameoutofthere.”
“You’removinginpowerfulcircles,”Isaid,recallingphotosofthepopulistpolitician.Hisincitementstocommunalviolencehadresultedinrioting,arson,andmurder.EachtimeIsawhimontelevisionorreadoneofhisbigotedspeechesinthenewspaper,hemademethinkofthebrutalmadmanwhocalledhimselfSapna:alegal,politicalversionofthepsychopathickiller.
“Itwasasnake-pitupthereinhissuite,Itellyou,baba.ButIgotmyinterview.Hehasaweaknessforbigtits.”Shewhippedafingerintomyface.“Don’tsayanything!”
“Hey!”Ipacifiedher,raisingbothhandsandwaggingmyhead.
“I’m…sayingnothingatall,yaar.Absolutelynothing.I’mlooking,mindyou,andIwishIhadthreeeyes,butI’msayingnothingatall!”
“Youbastard!”shehissed,laughingthroughgrittedteeth.“Ah,shit,what’shappeningtotheworld,man,whenoneofthemostimportantguysinthecitywon’ttalkto_you,butwillgiveatwo-hourinterviewtoyourtits?Menaresuchsickfuckers,don’tyouthink?”
“Yougotmethere,Kavita,”Isighed.
“Fuckin’pigs,yaar.”
“Can’targuewiththat.Whenyou’reright,you’reright.”
Sheeyedmesuspiciously.“Whatareyoubeingsodamnagreeableabout,Lin?”
“Listen,whereareyougoing?”
“What?”
“Whereareyougoing?Rightnow,Imean.”
“Iwasgoingtotakeacabbacktotown.I’mlivingnearFloraFountainnow.”
“HowaboutIgiveyoualift,onmybike?Iwanttotalktoyou.
Iwantyoutohelpmewithaproblem.”
Kavitadidn’tknowmewell.Hereyeswerethecolourofbarkonacinnamontree,fleckedwithgoldensparks.Shelookedmeupanddownwiththoseeyes,andtheforensicexaminationlefthersomewhereshortofinspiredreassurance.
“Whatkindofaproblem?”sheasked.
“Itinvolvesamurder,”Ireplied.“AndIwantyoutomakeitapage-onestory.I’lltellyouallaboutitatyourplace.AndonthewayyoucantellmeaboutVasantLai-you’llhavetoshoutonthebackofthebike,sothat’llhelpyougetitoutofyoursystem,na?”
Somefortyminuteslater,wesattogetherinherfourth-floorwalk-upapartmentontheedgeoftheFortarea,nearFloraFountain.Itwasatinyapartmentwithafoldoutbed,arudimentarykitchen,andahundrednoisyneighbours.Itboastedasuperbbathroom,however,largeenoughtoholdawashingmachineanddryerwithoutcrowding.Therewasalsoabalconyenclosedinantiquewroughtironthatlookedoutonthewide,busysquarearoundthefountain.
“HisnameisAnandRao,”Itoldher,sippingthestrongespressocoffeeshe’dpreparedforme.“Hesharedahut,intheslum,withaguynamedRasheed.TheyweremyneighbourswhenIlivedthere.
ThenRasheed’swifeandhersistercametostay,fromthevillageinRajasthan.AnandmovedoutofthehuttoleaveroomforRasheedandthesisters.”
“Hangon,”Kavitainterrupted.“Ibettergetthisdown.”
Shestoodupandwalkedtoawide,cluttereddesk,whereshegatheredupapad,pen,andcassetterecorder.She’dchangedoutofherpantsuit,andworelooseharempantsandasinglet.
Watchingherwalk,followingherquick,purposeful,gracefulmovements,Irealisedforthefirsttimejusthowbeautifulshewas.Whenshereturnedandsetuptherecorder,tuckingherlegsbeneathheronthearmchairasshepreparedtowrite,shecaughtmestaringather.“What?”sheasked.
“Nothing,”Ismiled.“Okay,soAnandRaogottomeetRasheed’swifeandhersister.Hegottolikethem.Theywereshy,buttheywerefriendly,happy,andkind.Ithink,now,readingbetweenthelines,thatAnandgotalittlesweetonthesister.Anyway,onedayRasheedtellshiswifethattheonlywaytheycansetthemselvesup,inthelittleshopthattheywant,isifhesellshiskidney-oneofhiskidneys-atthisprivatehospitalheknowsabout.Shearguesagainstthis,buthefinallyconvincesherthatit’stheironlychance.
“Well,hecomesbackfromthehospital,andhetellsherhe’sgotgoodnewsandbadnews.Thegoodnewsisthattheydefinitelywantakidney.Thebadnewsisthattheydon’twantaman’skidney-theywantawoman’skidney.”
“Okay,”Kavitasighed,shakingherhead.
“Yeah.Theguywasaprince.Anyway,hiswifebalksatthis,understandably,butRasheedconvincesher,andshegoesofftohavetheoperation.”
“Doyouknowwherethistookplace?”Kavitaasked.
“Yeah.AnandRaocheckedintoitall,andtoldQasimAli,theheadmanintheslum.He’sgotthedetails.So,anyway,AnandRaohearsaboutthis,whenRasheed’swifereturnsfromthehospital,andhe’sfurious.HeknowsRasheedwell-theysharedthehuttogetherfortwoyears,remember-andheknowsthatRasheedisaconman.HehasitoutwithRasheed,butitcomestonothing.
Rasheedgetsallindignant.Hespillskeroseneonhimself,andtellsAnandRaotolightit,ifhedoesn’ttrusthim,andifhethinkshe’ssuchabadguy.Anandjustwarnshimtolookafterthewomen,andleavesitatthat.”
“Whendidthishappen?”
“Theoperationwassixmonthsago.Well,thenextthingis,Rasheedtellshiswifethathe’sbeendowntothehospitaltwentytimestosellhisownkidney,buttheydon’twantit.Hetellsherthemoneytheygotforherkidneywasonlyhalfasmuchastheyneedtobuytheirbusiness.Hetellsherthattheystillwantwomen’skidneys,andhestartsworkingonhertosellhersister’skidney.Thewifeisagainstit,butRasheedworksontheyoungsister,tellingherthatifshedoesn’tsellherkidney,thenthewifewillhavesoldherkidneyfornothing.Finally,thewomengivein.Rasheedpackstheyoungersisterofftothehospital,andshereturns,minusoneofherkidneys.”“Thisissomeguy,”Kavitamuttered
“Yeah.Well,Ineverlikedhim.Hewasoneofthoseguyswhosmileasatactic,youknow,andnotbecausetheyactuallyfeelanythingworthsmilingabout.Kindoflikethewayachimpanzeesmiles.”
“Andwhathappened?Hetookoffwiththemoney,Isuppose?”
“Yeah.Rasheedtookthemoneyandran.Thetwosistersweredevastated.Theirhealthdeteriorated.Theywentdownhillfast.
Theyendedupinhospital.Firstone,andthentheother-theybothfellintoacoma.Lyingtogetherintheirhospitalbeds,theywerepronounceddeadwithinminutesofeachother.Anandwasthere,withafewothersfromtheslum.Hestayedlongenoughtoseethesheetspulledovertheirfaces.Thenheranoutofthehospital.Hewentoutofhismindwithangerand…guilt,Isuppose.HewentlookingforRasheed.HekneweveryoneofRasheed’sdrinkingdives.Whenhetrackedhimdown,Rasheedwaslyinginarubbishpit,sleepingoffabinge.He’dpaidsomekidstokeeptheratsoffhisdrunkenbody.AnandchasedthekidsoffandsatdownbesideRasheed,andlistenedtohimsnore.Thenhecuthisthroat,andwaitedthereuntilthebloodstoppedflowing.”
“Prettymessy,”Kavitamuttered,notlookingupfromherpad.
“Itwas.Itis.Anandgavehimselfup,andmadeafullconfession.He’sbeenchargedwithmurder.”
“Andyouwantmeto…?”
“Iwantyoutomakeitafront-pagestory.Iwantyoutobuildsomekindofpopularmovementaroundhim,sothatiftheydoconvicthim-whichtheywill,forsure-they’llhavetogoalittleeasyonhim.Iwanthimtohavesupportwhilehe’sinprison,andIwanttokeephisprisontimedowntoaslittleaspossible.”
“That’salotofIwant.”
“Iknow.”
“Well,”shefrowned,“it’saninterestingstory,butI’vegottotellyou,Lin,wegettoomanystorieslikethiseveryday.Wifeburning,dowrymurders,childprostitution,slavery,femaleinfanticide-it’sawaragainstwomeninIndia,Lin.It’safighttothedeath,andmostlyit’sthewomendying.Iwanttohelpyourguy,butIdon’tseethisaspageone,yaar.Andanyway,Idon’thaveanypullwithpageone.I’mnewtheremyself,don’tforget.”
“There’smore,”Ipressedher.“Thekickerinthestoryisthatthesistersdidn’tdie.Halfanhouraftertheywerepronounceddead,Rasheed’swifestirredbeneaththesheet.Afewminuteslater,hersistermovedandgroaned.They’realiveandwelltoday.Theirhut,intheslum,hasbecomeakindofshrine.Peoplecomefromalloverthecitytoseethemiraclesisterswhoreturnedfromthedead.It’sthebestthingthat’severhappenedtothebusinessesintheslum.They’redoingaroaringtradewiththepilgrims.Andthesistersarericherthantheycouldeverhavedreamed.Peoplearethrowingmoneyatthem,arupeeortwoatatime,andit’sreallyaddingup.Thesistershavesetupacharityforabandonedwives.
AndIthinktheirstory-backfromthedead,youknow-isenoughtojumpthistopageone.”
“Arreyyaar,baba!”Kavitayelped.“Okay,firstyouhavetogetmetogetherwiththewomen.They’rethekeytothis.ThenIhavetointerviewAnandRaoinprison.”
“I’lltakeyouthere.”
“No,”sheinsisted.“Ihavetospeaktohimalone.Idon’twanthimpromptedbyyou,orrespondingtoyou.Ihavetoseehowhe’llholduponhisown.Ifwe’regoingtobuildacampaignaroundhim,he’llhavetostandalone,yaar.Butyoucanspeaktohimfirstandpreparethewaybeforemyinterview.I’lltrytogettoseehiminthenexttwoorthreeweeks.We’vegotalottodo.”
Fortwohourswediscussedthecampaign,andIansweredhermanyquestions.Ileftherinahappy,enthusiasticwhirlofpressureandpurpose.IrodestraightouttoNarimanPoint,andboughtasizzlingmealfromoneofthefast-foodvansparkedonthebeach.
Butmyappetitewasn’tasgoodasI’dthought,andIatelessthanhalf.Iwentdowntotherockstorinsemyhandsintheseawater,withinsightofthespotwhereAbdullahhadintroducedhimselftomethreeyearsbefore.
Khader’swordsfloatedontheswift,shallowstreamofmythoughtsonceagain:thewrongthing,fortherightreasons…IthoughtofAnandRao,inArthurRoadPrison,inthebigdormitoryroomwiththeoverseersandthebodylice.Ishiveredthethoughtoffintothebreeze.KavitahadaskedmewhytheAnandRaocasewassoimportanttome.Ididn’ttellherthathe’dcometomebeforehecommittedthemurder,onlyaweekbeforehecutRasheed’sthroat.Ididn’ttellherthatI’dbrushedhimoff,andinsultedhim,demeaninghisdilemmawithanofferofmoney.Ismudgedananswertoherquestion,andletherthinkthatIwasjusttryingtohelpafriend,justtryingtodotherightthing.
Khaderbhaioncesaidthateveryvirtuousactisinspiredbyadarksecret.Itmightn’tbetrueofeveryone,butitwastrueenoughaboutme.ThelittlegoodthatI’vedoneintheworldhasalwaysdraggedbehinditashadowofdarkinspiration.WhatIdoknownow,anddidn’tknowthenisthat,inthelongrun,motivemattersmorewithgooddeedsthanitdoeswithbad.Whenalltheguiltandshameforthebadwe’vedonehaveruntheircourse,it’sthegoodwedidthatcansaveus.Butthen,whensalvationspeaks,thesecretswekept,andthemotivesweconcealed,creepfromtheirshadows.Theyclingtous,thosedarkmotivesforourgooddeeds.Redemption’sclimbissteepestifthegoodwedidissoiledwithsecretshame.
ButIdidn’tknowthatthen.Iwashedmyhandsinthecold,uncaringsea,andmyconsciencewasassilentandremoteasthemute,unreachablestars.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Usedpassports,knownasbookstous,thecounterfeitersandsmugglerswhotradedinthem,hadtobecheckedbeforetheycouldbesoldorusedbyblackmarketeers.Itwasalwayspossiblethatthejunkies,runaways,orindigentforeignerswho’dsoldtheirpassportstoouragentswerewantedforsomeseriousoffenceintheirownorsomeothercountry.Morethanafewsmugglershadbeencaughtoutinthatway.They’dboughtpassports,changedthemtosuit,andsetoutonamission,onlytofindthemselvesarrestedataforeignairportbecausetheoriginalownerswerewantedformurder,orrobbery,ordifferentsmugglingcharges.Toensurethesatisfactionofourcustomersandthesafetyofourcouriers,AbdulGhanisubjectedeverynewpassportthatheboughtorstoletotwolevelsofscrutiny
AcustomsofficerwithaccesstoacomputeratBombay’sinternationalairportprovidedthefirstfilter.Atatimeandplaceofhischoosing,theofficerwasgivenasheetbearingthecountryoforigin,passportnumber,andoriginalnameoneachpassporttobechecked.Adayortwolaterhereturnedthesheetwithalinedrawnthroughthosethatwereflaggedinhiscomputer.Someofthepassportswereflaggedbecauseinternationalarrest-warrantshadbeenissuedfortheoriginalowners.Somepassportswereflaggedbecausesuspicionattacheditselftotheowner:ahintofinvolvementintheillegaldrugsorarmstrade,orsomepoliticalconnectionthatmadesecurityservicesuneasy.Whateverthereason,flaggedpassportscouldn’tbesoldontheblackmarketorusedbyGhani’scouriers.
Flaggedbooksstillhadtheiruses.Itwaspossibletocannibalisethembypullingapartthestitchingtofurnishfreshpagesforother,usablebooks.TherewerealsootheruseswithinIndia.AlthoughforeignershadtoshowtheirpassportsforC-Formentrieswhentheyregisteredathotels,everycityhaditsshareofplacesthatweren’tfastidiouslypreciseabouttheresemblance,orlackofit,betweenapassportanditsbearer.Forthosehotels,anypassportdidthejob.AlthoughunabletotraveloutofIndiawithsuchaflaggedpassport,amanorwomancoulduseonetomovearoundwithinthecountrysafely,andsatisfytheminimumlegalrequirementsthatanobliginghotelmanagerhadtoobserve.
Unflaggedbooksthatdidpassthecustomscheckweresentthroughasecondfilteratairlineoffices.Allthemajorairlineskepttheirownlistsofhotorflaggedpassports.Inclusionofapassportnameandnumberonthelistwaspromptedbyanythingfromabadcreditratingorfraudulentdealingswithanairlinetoanyincidentinvolvingviolentbehaviourasapassengeronaplane.Naturallyenough,whensmugglersweregoingaboutthebusinessoftheircrimestheywereeagertoavoidanybutthemostsuperficialandroutineattentionfromairlinestaff,customspersonnel,orpolice.Apassportthatwasflagged,foranyreason,wasuselesstothem.AbdulGhani’sagentsattheofficesofmostofthemajorairlinesinBombaycheckedthenumbersandnamesofthepassportswe’dacquired,andreportedthosethatwereflagged.Thecleanbooksthatpassedthroughbothfilters-alittlelessthanhalfofallthoseobtained-weresold,orusedbyKhader’scouriers.
TheclientswhoboughtGhani’sillegalpassportsfellintothreemaincategories.Thefirstwereeconomicrefugees,peopleforcedfromtheirlandbyfamineordriventoseekabetterlifeinanewcountry.TherewereTurkswantingtoworkinGermany,AlbanianswantingtoworkinItaly,AlgerianswantingtoworkinFrance,andpeoplefromseveralAsiancountrieswhowantedtoworkinCanadaandtheUnitedStates.Afamily,agroupoffamilies,andsometimesawholevillagecommunitypooledtheirmeagreearningstopurchaseoneofAbdul’spassportsandsendafavouredsontooneofthepromisedlands.Oncethere,heworkedtorepaytheirloanandeventuallybuynewpassportsforotheryoungmenandwomen.Thepassportssoldforanythingbetweenfiveandtwenty-fivethousanddollars.Khaderbhai’snetworkissuedaboutahundredofthosepovertypassportseveryyear,andhisannualprofit,afteralltheoverheads,wasmorethanamilliondollars.
Politicalrefugeesmadeupthesecondcategoryofclients.Theupheavalsthatsentthosepeopleintoexilewereoftenviolent.
Theywerevictimsofwars,andofconflictsbasedoncommunity,religion,orethnicity.Sometimestheupheavalwaslegislated:thousandsofHongKongresidentswhoweren’trecognisedasBritishcitizensbecamepotentialclients,withthestrokeofapen,whenBritaindecidedin1984toreturnitscolonialpossessiontoChinainathirteenyearresolutionofsovereignty.Aroundtheworld,atanyonetime,thereweretwentymillionrefugeeslivingincampsandsafehavens.AbdulGhani’spassportagentswereneveridle.Anewbookcostthosepeopleanywherefromtentofiftythousanddollars.
Thehigherpricewasdeterminedbythegreaterrisksinvolvedinsmuggling_intowarzones,andthegreaterdemandtoescapefromthem.
ThethirdgroupofclientsforAbdul’sillegalbookswascriminals.Occasionally,thosecriminalsweremenlikeme-thieves,smugglers,contractkillers-whoneededanewidentitytostayonestepaheadofthepolice.Forthemostpart,however,AbdulGhani’sspecialclientswerethekindofmenwhoweremorelikelytobuildandfillprisonsthantoservetimeinthem.Theyweredictators,militarycoupleaders,secretpolicemen,andbureaucratsfromcorruptregimesforcedtotakeflightwhentheircrimeswereuncoveredortheregimefell.OneUgandanfugitive-amanIdealtwithpersonally-hadstolenmorethanamilliondollars,allocatedbyinternationalmonetaryagenciesforessentialserviceconstructions,includingachildren’shospital.
Thehospitalwasneverbuilt.Instead,thesick,injured,anddyingchildrenweretransportedtoaremotecampandlefttofendforthemselves.AtameetingthatIsetupinKinshasa,Zaire,themanpaidmetwohundredthousanddollarsfortwobooks-aperfect,unblemishedSwisspassport,andavirgin,originalCanadianpassport-andtravelledsafelytoVenezuela.
Abdul’sagentsinSouthAmerica,Asia,andAfricaestablishedcontactwithembezzlers,torturers,mandarins,andmartinetswho’dsupportedfallentyrannies.DealingwiththemgavememoreangryshamethananythingelseIeverdidinKhaderbhai’sservice.IntheyounglifeI’dknownasafreeman,Iwasadedicatedwriterofnewspaperarticlesandpamphlets.I’dspentyearsresearchingandexposingthecrimesandviolationsperpetratedbysuchmen.I’dputmybodyontheline,supportingtheirvictimsinahundredviolentprotestclasheswiththepolice.AndIstillfeltsomeoftheoldhatredandachokingsenseofoutragewhenIdealtwiththem.ButthatlifeI’dknownwasgone.Therevolutionarysocialactivisthadlosthisidealsinheroinandcrime.AndI,too,wasawantedman.I,too,hadapriceonmyhead.Iwasagangster,andIlivedfromonedaytothenextwithonlyKhader’smafiacouncilstandingbetweenmeandprisontorture.
So,IplayedmypartinGhani’snetwork,helpingmass-murdererstoescapefromthedeathsentencesthey’dpassedonsomanyothersandhadfinallyearnedfromtheircountrymeninreturn.
ButIdidn’tlikeit,andIdidn’tlikethem,andIletthemknowit.Idrovethemtothewalloneverydeal,takingalittlesolacefromtherageIprovokedinthem.Andtheyhaggledinfuriatingly,thosehuman-rightsabusers,self-righteouslyindignantaboutspendingthemoneythey’dgougedfrompeople’smouths.Butintheend,theyallcavedinandagreedtoourterms.Intheend,theypaidwell
No-oneelseinKhaderbhai’snetworkseemedtosharemysenseofoutrageormyshame.There’sprobablynosinglegroupofcitizenswhoaremorecynicalaboutpoliticsandpoliticiansthanprofessionalcriminals.Intheirview,allpoliticiansareruthlessandcorrupt,andallpoliticalsystemsfavourthepowerfulrichoverthedefencelesspoor.Andintime,andinasense,IbegantosharetheirviewbecauseIknewtheexperienceinwhichitwasgrounded.Prisonhadgivenusanintimateacquaintancewithhuman-rightsviolations,andeverydaythecourtsconfirmedwhatwe’dlearnedaboutthelaw:therichinanycountry,andanysystem,alwaysgotthebestjusticemoneycouldbuy.
Ontheotherhand,thecriminalsinKhader’snetworkdisplayedakindofegalitarianismthatwould’vefilledcommunistsandGnosticChristianswithadmiringenvy.Theydidn’tcareaboutthecolour,creed,race,orpoliticalorientationofclients,andtheydidn’tjudgethemwhenaskingabouttheirpast.Everylife,nomatterhowinnocentorevil,reducedtoonlyonequestion:Howbaddoyouneedthebook?Theanswerestablishedthegoingrate,andeverycustomerwhohadthemoneytopayitwasbornagain,withnohistoryandnosin,inthemomentofthedeal.Noclientwasbetterthananyother,andnonewasworse.
AbdulGhani,propelledbythepurestamoralspiritofmarketforces,servicedtheneedsofgenerals,mercenaries,misappropriatorsofpublicfunds,andmurderousinterrogatorswithoutahintofcensureordismay.Theirfreedombroughtinabouttwomilliondollarseachyearinclearprofit.Butalthoughhewasn’tethicallysqueamishaboutthesourceoftheincome,orreceivingit,AbdulGhaniwasreligiouslysuperstitiousaboutspendingit.EverydollarearnedinsavingthatpoisonousclientelewenttoarefugeerescueprogramthatKhaderbhaihadestablishedforIraniansandAfghansdisplacedbywar.Everypassportboughtbyoneofthewarlordsortheirapparatchiksboughtfiftymorebooks,identitycards,ortraveldocumentsforIranianandAfghanrefugees.Thus,inoneofthosepsychiclabyrinthsthatfatelikestobuildaroundgreedandfear,thehighpricespaidbytyrantsrescuedmanyofthosemadewretchedbytyranny.
KrishnaandVillutaughtmeeverythingtheyknewaboutthepassportbusiness,andintimeIbegantoexperiment,creatingnewidentitiesformyselfwithAmerican,Canadian,Dutch,German,andBritishbooks.Myworkwasn’tasgoodastheirs,andneverwouldbe.Goodforgersareartists.Theirartisticvisionmustencompassthedeliberatecreativesmudgethatgiveseachpageitscounterfeitauthenticity,nolessthantheaccuracyofalteredormanufactureddetails.Eachpagethattheycreateisaminiaturepainting,atinyexpressionoftheirart.Thepreciseangleofoneslightlyskewedstamporthecasualblurringofanotherareassignificanttothosesmallcanvassesastheshape,position,andcolourofafallenrosemightbeinagrandmaster’sportrait.Theeffect,nomatterhowskilfullyachieved,isalwaysbornintheartist’sintuition.Andintuitioncan’tbetaught.
Myskills,instead,foundexpressioninthestoriesthathadtobeinventedforeverynewlycreatedbook.Therewereoftengapsofmonths,orevenyears,intherecordoftravelcontainedwithinthebooksthatwegotfromforeigners.Somehadoverstayedtheirvisas,andthatlapsehadtobeexpungedfromthebookbeforeitcouldbeused.StampinganexitfromBombayairportbeforethelastvisa’sexpirydate,asifthepassportholderhadleftthecountrywithinthelifeofthevisa,Ithensetaboutestablishingahistoryofmovementfromonecountrytoanotherforeverybook,usingthebankofexitandentrystampsthatVilluhadcreated.Littlebylittle,Ibroughteachbookuptodate,andfinallysupplieditwithanewvisaforIndiaandanentrystampatBombayairport.
Thechainofentriesandexitsthatlinkedthatlapsedtimewasalwayscarefullyplotted.KrishnaandVilluhadalibraryoflogbooksfromthemajorairlines,listingalloftheflightsinandoutofEurope,Asia,Africa,andtheAmericaswiththeirdeparturedatesandarrivaltimes.IfweputastampintoaBritishbookstatingthattheholderhadarrivedinAthensonJulythefourth,say,weweresurethataBritishAirwaysflighthadconnectedatAthensairportonthatday.Inthatway,everybookhadapersonalhistoryoftravelandexperiencebackedupbylogs,timetables,andweatherdetailswhichgavethenewbeareracrediblepersonalhistory.
MyfirsttestofthepassportsI’dforgedformyselfwasonthedomestictransferroute,knownasthedouble-shuffle.ThousandsofIranianandAfghanrefugeesinBombaytriedtofindasyluminCanada,Australia,theUnitedStates,andelsewhere,butthegovernmentsofthosecountriesrefusedtoconsiderthem.Iftheycouldlandthere,inthosewesterncountries,theycoulddeclarethemselvestobeasylum-seekersandsubmittotheprocessesofassessmentthatdeterminedthemeritoftheirapplications.
Becausetheywerepoliticalrefugeesandgenuineasylum-seekers,theapplicationstheylaunchedwithinthenominatedcountrywereoftensuccessful.ThetrickwastogetthemintoCanada,orSweden,orsomeothercountryofchoiceinthefirstplace.
Thedouble-shufflewasthesystemweused.WhenIraniansorAfghansinBombaytriedtobuyticketstotheasylumcountries,theywererequiredtoshowcurrentvisasforthosecountries.Buttheycouldn’tobtainthevisaslegally,andfalsevisaswereimpracticablebecausetheywereimmediatelycheckedagainsttheconsularregister.SoIpurchasedatickettoCanadaorSwedenwithafalsevisa.Asagora,awell-dressedforeignerofEuropeanappearance,Iwasneversubjectedtoanythingbutacursoryexamination.No-oneeverbotheredtocheckifmyvisawasgenuine.TherefugeeIwashelpingthenpurchasedaticketforthedomesticleg-fromBombaytoDelhi-onthesameplane.Asweboardedtheplane,wereceivedboardingpasses:minewasthegreeninternationalboardingpass,andhiswasthereddomesticpass.Onceintheair,weswappedourboardingpasses.AtDelhiairport,onlythosewithgreeninternationalboardingpasseswerepermittedtoremainonboard.Clutchingmydomesticpass,IgotdownatDelhiandlefttherefugeetocontinueontoCanada,orSweden,orwhateverthedestinationoftheflightwe’dchosen.
Uponarrival,hewoulddeclarehimselftobeanasylum-seeker,andtheprocessofhisrecognitionwouldbegin.InDelhi,Iwouldspendthenightatafive-starandthenpurchaseanothertickettorepeattheprocess-thedouble-shuffle-withanotherrefugeeontheDelhitoBombayroute.
Thesystemworked.InthoseyearswesmuggledhundredsofIranianandAfghandoctors,engineers,architects,academics,andpoetsintotheirnominatedcountries.Ireceivedthreethousanddollarsforadouble-shuffle,andforawhileIdidtwodoublespermonth.AfterthreemonthsofinternalflightsfromBombaytoDelhi,Calcutta,Madras,andback,AbdulGhanisentmeonmyfirstinternationalcourierrun.IcarriedapackageoftenpassportstoZaire.Usingphotographsoftherecipients-sentfromKinshasa,thecapital-KrishnaandVilluhadworkedthepassportsintoperfectcounterfeitbooks.Aftersealingtheminplastic,Itapedthemtomybodyunderthreelayersofclothing,andflewintothesteaming,well-armedmayhemofKinshasa’sinternationalairport.
Itwasadangerousmission.Atthattime,Zairewasaneutralnoman’s-landbetweenthebloodyproxywarsthatragedinAngola,Mozambique,Namibia,Sudan,Uganda,andtheCongo.ItwasthepersonalfiefdomoftheconspicuouslyinsanedictatorMobutu,andapercentageoftheprofitfromeverycrimeinthekingdomslitheredintohispocket.Mobutuwasadarlingofthewesternpowersbecauseheboughteverycostlykillingweapontheyofferedtosellhim.IfitmatteredtothemthatMobututurnedtheweaponsontradeunionistsandothersocialreformersinhisowncountry,theyneverexpressedtheconcernpublicly.Thosegovernmentshostedthedictatorinlavishstyleatroyalandpresidentialreceptionswhilehundredsofmenandwomenwerebeingtorturedtodeathinhisprisons.Thesamegovernmentswerehuntingmethroughtheinternationalpoliceagency,Interpol,andtherewasnodoubtinmymindthattheirallywould’vetakengreatpleasureinfinishingmeoffforthem-asabonus,sotospeak-ifthepassportmissionhadgonewrongandI’dfoundmyselfarrestedinhiscapitalcity.
Still,IlikedthewildnessofKinshasa,acitythatthrivedasanopenmarket-placeforthetradeineverykindofcontraband,fromgoldanddrugstorocketlaunchers.Thecitywasfullofmercenaries,fugitives,criminals,black-marketprofiteers,andwild-eyed,bare-knuckledopportunistsfromalloverAfrica.Ifeltathomethere,andIwould’vestayedlonger,butwithinseventy-twohoursI’ddeliveredthebooksandacceptedonehundredandtwentythousanddollarsinpayment.ItwasKhaderbhai’smoney.Iwasanxioustohanditover.IjumpedthefirstflightbacktoBombay,andreportedtoAbdulGhani.
WhatIgainedfromthemissionwastenthousandAmericandollars,fieldexperience,andanintroductiontotheAfricanbranchofGhani’snetwork.Thenetworkandtheexperiencewereworththerisk,itseemedtomethen.Themoneywasunimportant.Iwould’vedonethejobforhalfthewageorless.IknewthatmostofthehumanlivesinBombaycameandwentmuchcheaper.
Morethanthat,therewasthedanger.Forsomepeople,danger’sakindofdrugorevenanaphrodisiac.Forme,livingasafugitive,livingeverydayandeverynightofmylifewiththefearofbeingkilledorcaptured,dangerwassomethingelse.
DangerwasoneofthelancesIusedtokillthedragonofstress.
Ithelpedmetosleep.WhenIwenttodangerousplacesandIdiddangerousthings,arushofnewanddifferentfearsweptoverme.
Thatnewfearcoveredthedreadthattoooftenworriedmeawake.
Whenthejobwasdone,andthenewfearsubsidedandpassedaway,Idrownedinanexhaustedpeace.
AndIwasn’taloneinthathungerfordangerouswork.InthecourseofthejobImetotheragents,smugglers,andmercenarieswhoseexcitedeyesandadrenaline-firedreflexesmatchedmyown.
Likeme,theywereallrunningfromsomething:theywereallafraidofsomethingthattheycouldn’treallyforgetorconfront.
Andonlydangermoney,earnedwithrecklessrisk,helpedthemtoescapeforafewhoursandtosleep.
Asecond,third,andfourthtriptoAfricafollowedwithoutincident.Iusedthreedifferentpassports,departingandarrivingfromdifferentIndianinternationalairportseachtimeandthentakingdomesticflightsbacktoBombay.ThedoubleshuffleflightsbetweenDelhiandBombaycontinued.ThespecialisttasksthatIperformedwithKhaled’scurrencydealersandsomeofthegoldtraderskeptmebusy-busyenough,mostofthetime,nottothinktoolongandtoohardofKarla.
TowardtheendofthemonsoonIvisitedtheslum,andjoinedQasimAlionhisdailytourofinspection.Ashecheckedthedrainagechannelsandorderedtherepairofdamagedhuts,IrecalledhowmuchI’dadmiredanddependeduponhimwhenI’dlivedthereintheslum.WalkingbesideQasimAliinmynewbootsandblackjeans,Iwatchedthestrongyoungmeninbarefeetandlungisdigandscrapewiththeirhands,asI’doncedone.Iwatchedthemshoreuptheretainingwallsandclearthecloggeddrains,ensuringthattheslumwouldremaindrytotheendoftherains.AndIenviedthem.Ienviedtheimportanceoftheworkandtheirearnestdevotiontoit.I’dknownitonce,sowell-thatferventandunquestioningdedication.I’dearnedthesmilesofprideandgratitudefromtheslum-dwellerswhenthedirtyworkwasdone.Butthatlifewasgoneforme.ItsvirtuesanditssolacesbeyondpricewereasremoteandirrecoverableasthelifeI’dknownandlostinAustralia.
Perhapssensingmysombremood,QasimdirectedustowardtheopenareawherePrabakerandJohnnyweremakingthefirstpreparationsfortheirweddings.Johnnyandadozenorsoofhisneighbourswereerectingtheframeforashamiana,orgreattent,wheretheweddingceremonieswouldtakeplace.Somedistanceaway,othermenwerebuildingasmallstagewherethecoupleswouldsitaftertheceremoniesandreceivegiftsfromfamilymembersandfriends.
JohnnygreetedmewarmlyandexplainedthatPrabakerwasworkinginhisrentedtaxi,andwouldreturnaftersunset.Togetherwewalkedaroundtheframedstructure,examiningtheconstructionanddiscussingtherelativemeritsandcostsofaplasticoracottoncovering.
Invitingmetodrinktea,Johnnyledustotheteamofstagebuilders.MyformerneighbourJeetendrawasthesupervisorfortheproject.Heseemedtohaverecoveredfromthegriefthathadenfeebledhimformanymonthsafterhiswife’sdeathinthecholeraepidemic.Hewasn’tsorobust-theonce-familiarpaunchhadshrunktoatightlittlemoundbeneathhisT-shirt-buthiseyeswerebrightwithhopeagain,andhissmilewasn’tforced.
Hisson,Satish,hadgrowninarapidburstsincehismother’sdeath.WhenIshookhandswithhim,Ipassedahundred-rupeenoteinthepressofhands.Heaccepteditjustassecretively,andsliditintothepocketofhisshorts.Thesmilehegavemewaswarm,buthewasstillwoundedbyhismother’sdeath.Therewasahollownessinhiseyes:ablackholeofshockedgrievingthatswallowedallthequestionsandreleasednoanswers.Whenhereturnedtohiswork,cuttinglengthsofcoconut-fibreropeforthementotiearoundbamboobracingpoles,hisyoungfaceassumedanumbexpression.Iknewthatexpression.Isometimescaughtit,bychance,inthemirror:thewaywelookwhenthepartofhappinessthat’strustingandinnocentisrippedaway,andweblameourselves,rightlyorwrongly,foritsloss.
“YouknowwhereIgotmyname?”Johnnyaskedmeaswesippedhot,deliciousslumchai.
“No,”Ianswered,smilingtomatchthelaughterinhiseyes.“Younevertoldme.”
“Iwasbornonthefootpath,nearCrawfordMarket.Mymotherhadalittleplacethere,alittlehutmadewithplasticandtwopoles.Theplasticwastiedtoawall,underneathasign.Thesignwasallbroken,youknow,andonlytwobitsoftwodifferentposterswerestillonthewall.OnonesidewasalittlebitofamovieposterwiththenameJohnnywrittenonit.Besidethatone,andstickingoutabit,wasaposteradvertisingcigarswith-yes,youguessedit–onlythewordCigarstickingout.”
“Andshelikedit,”Icontinuedforhim,“andshe-”
“CalledmeJohnnyCigar.Herparents,youknow,theyhadthrownherout.Andthemanwhowasmyfatherhaddumpedher,sosheabsolutelyrefusedtouseeitherofthosefamilynamesforme.
Andallthewaythroughthelabour,whenshegavebirthtome,onthatfootpath,shestaredatthosewords,JohnnyCigar,andshetookitasasign,ifyou’llforgivethejoke.Shewasavery,verystubbornwoman.”
Helookedatthelittlestage,watchingasJeetendra,Satish,andothersliftedflatpiecesofplywoodontotheframetomakethefloor.
“It’sagoodname,Johnny,”Isaid,afterawhile.“Ilikeit.
Anditbroughtyougoodluck.”
Hesmiledatme,andthesmilebecamealaugh.
“I’mjustgladitwasn’tanadvertforlaxativesorsomesuch!”hespluttered,causingmetolaughandsprayteaathiminreturn.
“It’stakingyouguysquiteawhiletotietheknot,”Iobservedwhenwecouldtalkagain.“What’sthedelay?”
“Kumar,youknow,hewantstoplaythesuccessfulbusinessman,andputadowrywitheachofhisdaughters.PrabakerandI,wetoldhimwedon’tbelieveinallthat.Wedon’twantadowry,youknow.It’skindofoldfashioned,allthatstuff.Mindyou,Prabaker’sdadisnotquiteofthesameopinion.Hesentdownalist,fromthevillage-alistofdowrygiftshehasinmind.Hewantsagoldwatch-aSeikoautomatic-andanewbicycle,amongotherstuff.Themodelofbicyclehewants,theonehepickedoutforhimself,wetoldhimit’stoobig.Wetoldhimthathislegsaretoodamnshorttoreachthepedals,letalonetheground,yaar,buthe’scrazyforthatbicycle.Anyway,we’rewaitingforKumartocollectallhisdowryandsuch.TheweddingsaresetforthelastweekinOctober,beforealltheDiwaliandallthat.”
“That’llbequiteaweek.MyfriendVikramgetsmarriedthatweek,too.”
“You’recomingtotheweddings,Lin?”heaskedwithasmall,tightfrown.Johnnywasamanwhograntedfavourstootherswithselflessgenerosity.Asisoftenthecasewithsuchmen,hecouldn’taskforthem,orexpresshiswishes,withanythinglikethesameease.
“Iwouldn’tmissitfortheworld,”Ireplied,laughing.“I’llbetherewithbellson.Imeanthatliterally-whenyouhearthebellsringing,you’llknowI’monmyway.”
WhenIlefthim,hewastalkingtoSatish.Theboylistenedintentlyandstaredintohisface,hiseyesasexpressionlessasagravestone,andIrememberedhowhe’dclutchedatmylegonthedaythatKarlavisitedmeintheslum;howhe’dfavouredherwithashy,sinceresmile.Thememoryslicedintomydeadheart.It’ssaidthatyoucannevergohomeagain,andit’strueenough,ofcourse.Buttheoppositeisalsotrue.Youmustgoback,andyoualwaysgoback,andyoucanneverstopgoingback,nomatterhowhardyoutry.
Needingdistraction,IrodemybikeouttotheR.K.filmstudios,gunningtheengineandswervingtoooftenandtoofastbetweenthecars.I’dhiredeightforeignersthedaybefore,andhadsentthemtoLisa.Itwasn’tdifficultformetofindandconvinceforeignerstofillnon-speakingrolesintheBollywoodfilms.ThesameGerman,Swiss,Swedish,orAmericantouristswhowould’vereactedwithmistrustandhostilitytoIndiancastingagentsrespondedenthusiasticallywhenIapproachedthem.IntheyearsthatI’dlivedintheslumandworkedasatourguide,I’dmeteverykindofforeigntourist.I’ddevelopedastyleindealingwiththemthatwontheirtrustquickly.Thatstylewastwopartsshowman,twopartsflatterer,andonepartphilanderer,combinedwithahintofmischief,asniffofcondescension,andapinchofcontempt.
TheworkasatourguidehadalsogivenmefriendshipsinseveralkeyColabarestaurants.ForyearsI’dsteeredmytourpartiesintotheCafeMondegar,thePicadilly,Dipty’sJuiceBar,EdwardtheEighth,MezbanRestaurant,ApsaraCafe,theStrandCoffeeHouse,theIdeal,andothersinthetouristbeat,andencouragedthemtospendtheirmoney.WhenIneededforeignerstofillbitpartsintheBollywoodfilms,Itrawledthosecafesandrestaurants.Theowners,managers,andwaitersalwaysgreetedmewarmly.WheneverIsawasuitablegroupofyoungmenandwomen,IapproachedthemwiththeofferofachancetoworkinanIndianmovie.Withtherestaurantstaffvouchingforme,Iusuallysecuredtheirconfidenceandagreementwithinafewminutes.IthenphonedLisaCartertoarrangetransportforthefollowingday.Thesystemworkedwell.Inthefewmonthssincewe’dstartedworkingtogether,Lisawasdrawingcastingworkfromthemajorstudiosandproducers.Findingthemostrecentgroup-theforeignersI’dhiredthedaybefore-wasourfirstjobforthefamousR.K.studio.
Iwascurioustoseethelarge,prestigiousstudiocomplex,andasIrodethroughtheentrancegatesmyspiritsliftedtothetallgreysailsofthecorrugatedgableroofs.ForLisaCarter,andotherslikeher,thedreamworldofmoviesinspiredanalmostreverentialawe.Iwasn’tawedbythemovieworld,butIwasn’timmunetoiteither.EverytimeIenteredthefantasy-landofafilmstudio,alittleofthemagicthatmakesamoviecaughtinmyheartandliftedme,brightwithsurprise,fromthegloomyseathat,toomuchandtoooften,mylifehadbecome.
TheguardsdirectedmetoasoundstagewhereLisaandhergroupofGermanswerewaiting.I’darrivedduringabreakintheshooting,andfoundLisaservingcoffeeandteatotheyoungforeigners.Theywereseatedattwotables-twoofseveralthatwerearrangedaroundastage,onasetthatwasdesignedtoreplicateamodernnightclub.Igreetedthem,exchangingafewpleasantries,andthenLisatookmeaside.
“Howarethey?”Iaskedherwhenwewerealone.
“They’regreat,”sheansweredhappily.“They’repatientandrelaxedandhavingagoodtime,Ithink.This’llbeagoodshoot.
You’vesentsomeprettygoodpeopleinthelastcoupleweeks,Lin.Thestudiosarerealpleased.Wecould…youknow,wecouldreallyworkthisintosomething,youandme.”
“Youlikethis,don’tyou?”
“SureIdo,”shesaid,givingmeasmileIcouldfeelonthebackofmyhead.Thenherexpressionshiftedintosomethingmoresolemn,somethingdetermined-thekindofdeterminationyoufindinpeoplewhodoitallthehardway,withouthope.Shewasbeautiful:aCaliforniabeachbeautyinthecarnaljungleofBombay;apom-pomgirlwho’dpulledherselfoutofthedeath-byleechesofheroinandthesybariticsuffocationofMadameZhou’sPalace.Herskinwasclearandtanned.Hersky-blueeyeswereradiantwithresolve.Herlong,curlyblondehairwaspulledbackfromherface,andheldinanelegantcoiffurethatcomplementedthedecorousnessofhermodest,ivory-colouredpantsuit.Shebeatheroin,Ifoundmyselfthinking,asImetherstare.Shebeatit.
Shegotoffthestuff.Iwassuddenlyawareofhowbraveshewas,andthatthecourageinher-whenyouknewitwasthere,andyouknewhowtolookforit-wasaspalpableandrivetingasthefierce,impersonalmenaceinatiger’seye.
“Ilikethisgig,”shesaid.“Ilikethepeople,andthework.Ilikethelife.Ithink_youshouldlikeit,too.”
“Ilikeyou,”Ismiled.
Shelaughed,andslippedanarmthroughmine,leadingusinastrollaroundtheset.
“Themovie’scalledPaanchPaapi,”shesaid.
“Fivekisses…”
“No.paapi,notpapi.That’stheplayonwords.Paapimeansthief,andpapimeanskiss.So,it’sreallyFiveThieves,butthere’sajokeaboutitbeingFiveKisses,aswell,becauseit’saromanticcomedy.ThefemaleleadisKimiKatkar.Ithinkshe’sgorgeous.She’snotthebestdancerintheworld,butshe’sabeautifulgirl.ThemaleleadisChunkeyPandey.Hecouldbegood,realgood,ifhisheadwasn’tjammedsofaruphisownass.”
“Whilewe’reonthesubject,haveyouhadanymoretroublewithMaurizio?”
“Notathingfromhim,butI’mworriedaboutUlla.She’sbeengoneforawholedayandnight.ShetookacallfromModenathenightbeforelast,andleftinahurry.Itwasthefirsttimehesurfacedinweeks.Ihaven’theardfromhersince,andshepromisedtocall.”
Irubbedthefrownfrommyforehead,upthroughmyuntidyhair.
“Ullaknowswhatshe’sdoing,”Igrowled.“She’snotyourproblem,andshe’snotmine.Ihelpedherbecausesheaskedmeto.BecauseIlikeher.ButI’mgettingtiredofthisUllaMaurizio-Modenathing,youknowwhatImean?DidModenasayanythingtoheraboutthemoney?”
“Idon’tknow.Maybe.”
“Well,it’sstillmissing,andsoisModena.Theboysonthestreethavebeentellingme.Maurizio’sgoingaroundallovertheplacelookingforModena.Hewon’tgiveupuntilhefindshim.
AndUlla’snobetter.Sixtythousandbucks-it’snotallthatmuch,butpeoplehavebeenkilledforless.IfModena’sgotit,hebetterstayclearofUllawhileMaurizio’sstillafterhim.”
“Iknow.Iknow.”
Hereyesweresuddenlyglazedandapprehensive.
“I’mnotworriedaboutUlla,”Isaidmoresoftly.“Iworryaboutyou.IfModena’sback,youshouldstayclosetoAbdullahforawhile.Orme.”
Shelookedatmewithherlipspressedtowhiterimsaroundwhatshewantedtosaybutcouldn’torwouldn’t.
“Tellmeaboutthescene,”Isuggested,tryingtoshiftusfromthecold,blackwhirlpoolthatUlla’slifewasbecoming.“What’sgoingoninthismovie?”
“It’sanightclub,oratleastit’samovieversionofone.Theherostealsajewelfromarichpolitician,Ithink-somethinglikethat-andherunsinheretohide.Hewatchesthegirl,Kimi,doingabigdancenumber,andhefallsforher.Whenthecopsshowup,hehidesthejewelinherwig.Therestofthemovieisabouthowhetriestogetclosetoher,togetthejewelback.”
Shepaused,studyingmyface,andtryingtoreadtheexpressioninmyeyes.
“It’s…Iguessyouthinkit’skindastupid.”
“No,Idon’t,”Ilaughed.“Ilikeit.Ilikeallthis.Intherealworld,theguywouldjustbeatherupandtakehisjewelback.Hemightevenshoother.IliketheBollywoodversionbetter.”
“SodoI,”shesaid,laughing.“Iloveit.Theyputitalltogetherfrompaintedcanvasandskinnypiecesofwoodandit’s…it’slikethey’remakingdreamsorsomething.Iknowthatsoundscorny,butImeanit.Ilovethisworld,Lin,andIdon’twanttogobacktotheotherone.”
“Hey,Lin!”avoicecalledoutfrombehindme.ItwasChandraMehta,oneoftheproducers.“Yougotaminute?”
IleftLisawiththeGermantouristsandjoinedChandraMehtabeneathametalgantrythatsupportedacomplextreeofbrightlights.Heworeabaseballcapbackwards,andthepressofthetightbandmadehisplumpfaceseemrounder.FadedblueLeviswerebuttonedupunderhisexpansivepaunch,andalongkurtahshirtalmostcovereditfromabove.Hewassweatinginthemildlyhumidairoftheclosedset.
“Hey,man.Howisit?I’vebeenwantingtoseeyou,yaar.”Hisvoicewasbreathywithconspiracy.“Let’sgooutsideandgetsomeair.I’mboilingmyfuckin’bonusoffinhere,yaar.”
Aswestrolledbetweenthemetal-domedbuildings,actorsincostumecrossedourpath,togetherwithmencarryingpropsandpiecesofequipment.Atonepoint,agroupofnineprettydancinggirlsdressedinexotic,featheredcostumespassedusontheirwaytoasoundstage.Theyturnedmyheadaround,forcingmybodytofollowituntilIwaswalkingbackwardsforawhile.ChandraMehtanevergavethemsomuchasaglance.
“Listen,Lin,whatIwantedtotalktoyouabout…”hesaid,touchingmyarmattheelbowaswewalked.“Ihavethisfriend,youknow,andhe’sabusinessfellow,withalotofdealingsintheUSA.Achaa,whattosay…hehasaproblemofhisrupeesto-dollarscashflow,yaar.Iwaskindofhopingthatyou…alittlebirdtoldmethatyouareahelpfulfellowwhenthecashisnotflowing.”
“IassumethiscashshouldbeinU.S.dollars,whenit’sflowingcorrectly?”
“Yes,”hesmiled.“I’mverygladthatyouunderstandhisproblem.”
“Justhowbadlyistheflowbackedup?”
“Oh,Ithinkthatabouttenthousandshouldmovethingsalongverynicely.”
ItoldhimKhaledAnsari’scurrentrateforU.S.dollars,andheagreedtotheterms.Iarrangedtomeethimonthesetthefollowingday.Hewastohavetherupees-amuchlargerbundleofnotesthantheAmericancurrencymade-inasoftbackpack,readyformetocollectonmybike.Weshookonthedeal.MindfulofthemanIrepresented,lordAbdelKhaderKhan,amanwhosenamewouldneverbementionedbyMehtaorbyme,Iputaslightlyuncomfortablepressureinthehandshake.ItwasatinypainIinflictedonhim,themeresttwinge,butitreinforcedthehardeye-contactabovemyamiablesmile.
“Don’tstartthisifyou’regoingtomessitup,Chandra,”Iwarned,asthehandshakepulsedfromhispinchedhandtohiseyes.“Nobodylikestogetjerkedaround-myfriendsleastofall.”
“Oh,ofcoursenot,baba!”hejoked,notquitesmotheringtheblipofalarmthatspikedinhiseyes.“Noproblem.Koibahtnahi!Don’tworry!I’mverygratefulthatyoucanhelpme,my…whattosay,helpmyfriend,withhisproblem,yaar.”
Westrolledbacktothesoundstage,andIfoundLisawithMehta’sfellowproducer,CliffDeSouza.
“Hey,man!You’lldo!”Cliffsaidingreeting,seizingmebythearmanddraggingmetowardthetablesonthenightclubset.IlookedatLisa,butshejustraisedherhandsinagesturethatsaidYou’reonyourown,buddy.
“What’sgoingon,Cliff?”
“Weneedanotherguy,yaar.Weneedaguy,agora,sittingbetweenthesetwolovelygirls.”
“Oh,noyoudon’t.”Iresistedhim,tryingtowrestlemyselfoutofhisgripwithoutactuallyhurtinghim.Wewereatthetable.
ThetwoGermangirlsstoodandreachedouttodragmeintotheseatbetweenthem.“Ican’tdothis!Idon’tact!I’mcamerashy!
Idon’tdothis!”
“Na,komm’schon!H%or’auf.”oneofthegirlssaid.“Youaretheonewhotoldusyesterdayhoweasyitistodothis,na?”
Theywereattractivewomen.I’dselectedtheirgrouppreciselybecausetheywereallhealthyandattractivemenandwomen.Theirsmileswerechallengingmetojointhem.Ithoughtaboutwhatitwouldmean:takingapartinamoviethataboutthreehundredmillionpeopleintenormorecountrieswouldseewhileIwasontherunasmycountry’smostwantedman.Itwasfoolish.Itwasdangerous.
“Oh,whythehellnot,”Ishrugged.
Cliffandthestagehandsbackedawayasthecastmemberstooktheirplacesontheset.Thestar,ChunkeyPandey,wasahandsome,athletic,youngBombayguy.I’dseenhiminafewofthemoviesI’dwatchedwithmyIndianfriends,andIwassurprisedtodiscoverthathewasconsiderablymorehandsomeandcharismaticinpersonthanhewasonthescreen.Amake-upassistantheldupamirrorwhileChunkeycombedandfrettedathishair.Theintensityofthegazethathefocusedonthemirrorwasassteadfastasasurgeon’smightbeinthemidstofacomplexandcriticalprocedure.
“Youmissedthebestpart,”oneoftheGermangirlswhisperedtome.“Ittookthisguyabigtimetolearnhisdancingmovesforthisscene.Hecrappeditupquiteafewmanytimes.Andeverytimehecrappeditup,thislittleguywiththeSpiegel…themirror,hepopsout,andwewatchhim,withthehaircombing,allagain.Iftheyjustusedallthatstuffofhimcrappingitupandcombinghishairwhilethelittleguyholdsthemirror,Itellyou,thiswouldbeabigcomedyhit.”
Thedirectorofthefilmstoodbesidehiscinematographer,poisedwithoneeyetothelensofthecamera,andthengavehislastinstructionstothelightingcrew.Atasignal,thedirector’sassistantcalledforall-quietontheset.Thecinematographerannouncedthatthefilmwasrolling.
“Cuesound!”thedirectorcommanded.“_And…_action!”
Musichammeredintothesetfromlargestadiumspeakers.ItwastheloudestthatI’deverheardIndianmoviemusicplayed,andIlovedit.Thedancers,includingthestar,KimiKatkar,prancedontotheartificialstage.Workingthesetandthecrowdofextras,Kimisashayedacrossthestageandmadeherwayfromtabletotable,dancingandmiminghernumberallthewhile.Theherojoinedinthedance,andthenduckedunderatablewhentheactorsplayingthecopsarrived.Thewholesequencelastedonlyfiveminutesinthefilm,butittookallthemorningtorehearseandmostoftheafternoontoshoot.MyfirsttasteofshowbusinessresultedintwobriefsweepsofthecamerathatcapturedmywidesmileasKimipaused,inherseductiveroutine,atthebackofmychair.
Wesenttheforeigntouristshomeintwocabs,andLisarodebacktotownwithmeontheBullet.Itwasawarmeveningandsheremovedherjackettoride,pullingtheclipfromherlonghair.
Shewrappedherarmsaroundmywaistandpressedhercheekintomyback.Shewasagoodpassenger:thekindwhosurrendersherwillinunconditionaltrust,andblendsherbodytothenuanceoftherider.ThroughmythinwhiteshirtIfeltthepressofherbreastsagainstmyback.Theshirtwasopeninthewarmwind,andherhandsclungtothetightskinofmywaist.Ineverworeahelmetonthebike.Therewasahelmetclippedtothebackoftheseatforapassenger,butshechosenottowearit.Occasionally,whenwestoppedfortheflowoftrafficortomakeaturn,agustofwindwhippedherlong,curlyblondehairovermyshoulderandintomymouth.Theperfumeofverbenaflowerslingeredonmylips.Herthighsclungtome,gently,andwithapromiseorathreatofthestrengththeypossessed.Irememberedthosethighs,theskinassoftasmoonlightonthepalmofmyhandthatnightatKarla’shouse.Andthen,asifshewasreadingmythoughtsorjoiningthem,shespokewhenthebikestoppedatatrafficsignal.
“How’sthekid?”
“Thekid?”
“Thatlittlekidyouhadwithyouthatnight,youremember,atKarla’splace.”
“He’sfine.Isawhimlastweek,athisuncle’s.He’snotsolittleanymore.He’sgrowingfast.He’sataprivateschool.Hedoesn’tlikeitmuch,buthe’lldookay.”
“Doyoumisshim?”
ThesignalchangedandIkickedthebikeintogear,twistingthethrottletosendusintotheintersectiononthestaccatothrobbingoftheengine’sgrowl.Ididn’tanswerher.OfcourseImissedhim.Hewasagoodkid.Imissedmydaughter.Imissedmymotherandallofmyfamily.Imissedmyfriends:ImissedthemallandIwassure,inthosedesperateyears,thatIwouldneverseethemagain.MissingthepeopleIlovedwasakindofgrievingforme,anditwasworse,muchworse,forthefactthat-sofarasIknew–theyweren’tdead.Myheart,sometimes,wasagraveyardfullofblankstones.AndwhenIwasaloneinmyapartment,nightafternight,thatgrievingandmissingchokedme.Therewasmoneyinbundlesonthedressingtable,andtherewerepassportsfreshlyforgedthatcouldsendme…anywhere.Buttherewasnowheretogo:nowherethatwasn’temptiedofmeaningandidentityandlovebythevacuumofthosewhoweremissingandlostforever.
Iwasthefugitive.Iwasthevanishedone.Iwastheonewhowasmissing;missinginaction.Butinsidetheslipstreamofmyflight,theywerethemissingones.Insidemyexile,itwasthewholeworldIonceknewthatwasmissing.Thefugitivekindrun,tryingagainsttheirheartstoannihilatethepast,andwithiteverytell-taletraceofwhattheywere,wheretheycamefrom,andthosewhooncelovedthem.Andtheyrunintothatextinctionofthemselves,tosurvive,buttheyalwaysfail.Wecandenythepast,butwecan’tescapeitstormentbecausethepastisaspeakingshadowthatkeepspacewiththetruthofwhatweare,stepforstep,untilwedie.
Andfromthepinkandpurplepaletteoftheperishedevening,ablue-blacknightroseuparoundusaswerode.Weplungedwiththesea-windintotunnelsoflight.Therobeofsunsetslippedfromtheshouldersofthecity.Lisa’shandsmovedonmyhardskinlikethesea;likethesurging,swarmingcaressofthesea.
Andforamoment,aswerodetogether,wewereone:onedesire,onepromisedissolvingintocompromise,onemouthtastingthetrickleofdangeranddelight.Andsomething-itmight’vebeenlove,orfear-goadedmetothechoice,puttingwhispersinthewarmingwind:Thisisasyoung,andasfree,asyou’lleverbe.
“Ibettergo.”
“Don’tyouwantacoffeeorsomething?”sheasked,herhandonthekeyinthedoortoherapartment.
“Ibettergo.”
“Kavita’sreallyintothisstoryyougaveher,aboutthegirlsfromtheslum.Thegirlswhocamebackfromthedead.It’sallshetalksabout.TheBlueSisters,shecallsthem.Idon’tknowwhyshecallsthemthat,butit’saprettycoolname.”
Shewasmakingconversation,holdingmethere.Ilookedintotheskythatwashereyes.
“Ibettergo.”
Twohourslater,fullyawake,andstillfeelingthepressofherlipsinthegood-nightkiss,Iwasn’tsurprisedwhenthephonerang.
“Canyoucomeoverrightaway?”shesaidwhenIansweredthecall.
Iwassilent,strugglingtofindawaytosaynothatsoundedlikeyes.
“I’vebeentryingtofindAbdullah,buthedoesn’tanswer,”shewenton,andthenIheardtheflattened,frightened,shellshockeddroneinhervoice.
“Whatisit?What’shappened?”
“Wehadsometrouble…therewassometrouble…”
“WasitMaurizio?Areyouokay?”
“He’sdead,”shemumbled.“Ikilledhim.”
“Isanyonethere?”
“Anyone?”sherepeatedvaguely.
“Isanyoneelsethere,intheapartment?”
“No.Imean,yes-Ulla’shere,andhim,onthefloor.That’s…”
“Listen!”Icommanded,“Lockthedoor.Don’tletanyonein.”
“Thedoor’sbusted,”shemurmured,hervoiceweakening.“Hesmashedthelockoffthewallwhenhebustedinhere.”
“Okay.Pushsomethingupagainstthedoor-achairorsomething.
KeepitcloseduntilIgetthere.”
“Ulla’samess.She…she’sprettyupset.”
“It’llbeokay.Justblockthedoor.Don’tphoneanyoneelse.
Don’tspeaktoanyone,anddon’tletanyonein.Maketwocupsofcoffee,withlotsofmilkandsugar-fourspoonsofsugar-andsitdownwithUllatodrinkthem.Giveherastiffdrink,aswell,ifsheneedsit.I’monmyway.I’llbethereintenminutes.Hanginthere,andstaycool.”
Ridingthenight,cuttingintocrowdedstreets,windingthebikeintotheweboflights,Ifeltnothing:nofear,nodread,noshiverofexcitement.Red-liningamotorcyclemeansopeningthethrottlesohard,witheverychangeofgears,thattheneedleontherev-counteristwistedallthewayroundtotheredzoneofmaximumrevolutions.Andthat’swhatweweredoing,allofus,inourdifferentways,KarlaandDidierandAbdullahandI:wewerered-liningourlives.AndLisa.AndMaurizio.Twistingtheneedletotheredzone.
ADutchmercenaryinKinshasaoncetoldmethattheonlytimeheeverstoppedhatinghimselfwaswhentheriskhefacedbecamesogreatthatheactedwithoutthinkingorfeelinganythingatall.
Iwishedhehadn’tsaidittomebecauseIknewexactlywhathemeant.AndIrodethatnight,Isoaredthatnight,andthestillnessinmyheartwasalmostlikebeingatpeace.
____________________
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
InmyfirstknifefightIlearnedthattherearetwokindsofpeoplewhoenteradeadlyconflict:thosewhokilltolive,andthosewholivetokill.Theoneswholikekillingmightcomeintoafightwithmostofthefireandfury,butthemanorwomanwhofightsjusttolive,whokillsjusttosurvive,willusuallycomeoutofitontop.Ifthekiller-typebeginstolosethefight,hisreasonforfightingitfades.Ifthesurvivor-typebeginstolose,hisreasonforfightingitflaresupfiercerthanever.Andkillingcontestswithdeadlyweapons,unlikecommonfistfights,arelostandwoninthereasonsthatremainwhenthebloodbeginstorun.Thesimplefactisthatfightingtosavealifeisabetterandmoreenduringreasonthanfightingtoendone.
Myfirstknifefightwasinprison.Likemostprisonfights,itstartedtriviallyandendedsavagely.Myadversarywasafit,strongveteranofmanyfights.Hewasastand-overman,whichmeantthathemuggedweakermenformoneyandtobacco.Heinspiredfearinmostofthemenand,notburdenedwithjudiciousness,heconfusedthatfearwithrespect.Ididn’trespecthim.Idetestbulliesfortheircowardice,anddespisethemfortheircruelty.Ineverknewatoughmanwhopreyedontheweak.Toughmenhatebulliesalmostasmuchasbullieshatetoughmen.
AndIwastoughenough.I’dgrownupinarough,working-classneighbourhood,andI’dbeenfightingallmylife.No-oneintheprisonsystemknewthatthenbecauseIwasn’tacareercriminal,andIhadnohistory.Ibeganmyprisonexperienceasafirstoffender.What’smore,Iwasanintellectual,andIsoundedandactedlikeone.Somemenrespectedthatandsomeridiculedit,butnoneofthemfearedit.Nevertheless,thelongprisonsentencethatIwasserving-twentyyearsathardlabourforarmedrobberies-gavemostofthempause.Iwasadarkhorse.NooneknewhowIwouldrespondtoarealtest,andmorethanafewwerecuriousaboutit.
Thetest,whenitdidcome,wasflashingsteel,andbrokenteeth,andeyesrollingwideandwildasafrenzieddog.Heattackedmeintheprisonlaundry,theoneplacenotobserveddirectlybyguardspatrollingcatwalksbetweentheguntowers.Itwasthekindofunprovokedsurpriseattackthat’sknowninprisonslangasasneak-go.Hewasarmedwithasteeltableknife,sharpenedwithendlesslymalignantpatienceonthestonefloorofhiscell.
Itsedgewassharpenoughtoshaveamanorcuthisthroat.I’dnevercarriedaknifeorusedoneinmylifebeforeprison.Butinthere,wheremenwereattackedandstabbedeveryotherday,I’dfollowedtheadviceofthehardmenwho’dsurvivedlongyearsthere.It’sbettertohaveaweaponandnotneedit,they’dtoldmemorethanonce,thanneeditandnothaveit.Myknifewasasharpenedspikeofmetalaboutasthickasaman’sfingerandalittlelongerthanahand.Thehiltwasformedwithpackingtape,andfittedintomyhandwithoutbunchingthefingers.Whenthefightbeganhedidn’tknowthatIwasarmed,butweboth,inourseparateways,expectedthatitwasafighttothedeath.Hewantedtokillme,andIwassurethatIhadtokillhimtosurvive.
Hemadetwomistakes.Thefirstwastofightonthebackfoot.Inthesurpriseofhissneakattackhe’dfirstrushedatmeand,withtwoslashesoftheknife,he’dcutmeacrossthechestandtheforearm.Heshould’vepressedontofinishit,hackingandtearingandstabbingatme,buthesteppedbackinsteadandwavedtheknifeinlittlecircles.Hemight’veexpectedmetosubmit-mostofhisfoessurrenderedquickly,defeatedbytheirfearofhimasmuchasbythesightoftheirownblood.Hemight’vebeensosurehewouldwinthathewassimplytoyingwithmeandteasingoutthethrillofthekill.Whateverthereason,helosttheadvantageandhelostthefightinthatfirstbackwardstep.
Hegavemetimetodragmyknifefrominsidemyshirtandshapeuptoboxhim.Isawthesurpriseinhiseyes,anditwasmycuetocounter-attack.
Hissecondmistakewasthatheheldtheknifeasifitwasaswordandhewasinafencingmatch.Amanusesanunderhandgripwhenheexpectshisknife,likeagun,todothefightingforhim.Butaknifeisn’tagun,ofcourse,andinaknifefightitisn’ttheweaponthatdoesthefighting:it’stheman.Theknifeisjusttheretohelphimfinishit.Thewinninggripisadaggerhold,withthebladedownward,andthefistthatholdsitstillfreetopunch.Thatgripgivesamanmaximumpowerinthedownwardthrustandanextraweaponinhisclosedfist.
Hedodgedandweavedinacrouch,slashingtheknifeinsweepingarcswithhisarmsoutwide.Hewasright-handed.Iadoptedasouthpaw-boxingstance,thedaggerinmyrightfist.Steppingwiththerightfoot,anddraggingthelefttokeepmybalance,Itookthefighttohim.Herippedthebladeatmetwiceandthenlungedforward.Iside-stepped,andpunchedathimwithathreepunchcombination,right-left-right.Oneofthemwasaluckypunch.Hisnosebroke,andhiseyeswateredandburned,blurringhisvision.Helungedagain,andtriedtobringtheknifeinfromtheside.Igrabbedathiswristwithmylefthand,steppedintothespacebetweenhislegs,andstabbedhiminthechest.Iwastryingfortheheartoralung.Itdidn’thiteitherone,butstillIrammedthespikeuptothehiltintothemeatyfleshbeneathhiscollarbone.Itbroketheskinofhisbackjustbelowtheshoulderblade.
Hewasjammedagainstasectionofwallbetweenawashingmachineandaclothes-dryer.Usingthespiketoholdhiminplace,andwithmylefthandlockedtohisknife-wrist,Itriedtobitehisfaceandneck,buthewhippedhisheadfromsidetosidesoswiftlythatIoptedforhead-buttsinstead.Ourheadscrackedtogetherseveraltimesuntilonedesperate,wrenchingeffortofhislegssentussprawlingontothefloortogether.Hedroppedhisknifeinthefall,butthespiketorefreefromhischest.Hebegantodraghimselftowardthedoorofthelaundry.Icouldn’ttellifhewastryingtoescapeorseekinganewadvantage.Ididn’ttakeachance.Myheadwaslevelwithhislegs.Thrashingtogetherontheground,Ireachedupandgrabbedthebeltofhistrousers.Usingitforleverage,Istabbedhiminthethightwice,andagain,andagain.Istruckbonemorethanonce,feelingthejarringdeflectionallthewayupmyarm.Releasinghisbelt,Istretchedmylefthandoutforhisknife,tryingtoreachitsothatIcouldstabhimwiththatoneaswell.
Hedidn’tscream.I’llsaythatmuchforhim.Heshoutedhardformetostop,andheshoutedthathegaveup-Igiveup!Igiveup!
Igiveup!-buthedidn’tscream.Ididstop,andIlethimlive.
Iscrambledtomyfeet.Hetriedagaintocrawltowardthedoorofthelaundry.Istoppedhimwithmyfootonhisneck,andstompeddownonthesideofhishead.Ihadtostophim.Ifhe’dmadeitoutofthelaundrywhileIwasthere,andtheprisonguardssawhim,Iwould’vespentsixmonthsormoreinthepunishmentunit.Whilehelaytheregroaningonthefloor,Itookoffmybloodyclothesandchangedintoacleanset.Oneoftheprisonerswhocleanedthejailwasstandingoutsidethelaundry,grinninginatusthroughthedoorwaywithunspitefulenjoyment.Ipassedhimthebundleofmysoiledclothes.Hesmuggledthebloodiedclothesawayinhismop-bucket,andthrewthemintotheincineratorbehindthekitchen.OnmywayoutofthelaundryIhandedtheweaponstoanotherman,whoburiedthemintheprisongarden.
WhenIwassafelyawayfromthescene,themanwho’dtriedtokillmelimpedintotheprisonchief’soffice,andcollapsed.Hewastakentohospital.Ineversawhimagain,andheneveropenedhismouth.I’llsaythatmuchforhim,too.Hewasathugandastand-overman,andhetriedtokillmefornogoodreason,buthewasn’taninformer.
Aloneinmycell,afterthefight,Iexaminedmywounds.Thegashonmyforearmhadmadeacleancutthroughavein.Icouldn’treportittothemedicalofficerbecausethatwould’veconnectedmetothefightandthewoundedman.Ihadtohopethatitwouldheal.Therewasadeepslashfrommyleftshouldertothecentreofmychest.Itwasalsoacleancut,anditwasbleedingfreely.
Iburnedtwopacketsofcigarettepapersallthewaydowntowhiteashinametalbowl,andrubbedtheashintobothwounds.
Itwaspainful,butitsealedthewoundsimmediatelyandstoppedthebleeding.
Ineverspokeofthefighttoanyone,butmostofthemenknewaboutitsoonenough,andtheyallknewthatI’dsurvivedthetest.Thewhitescaronmychest,thescarthatmensaweverydayintheprisonshower,remindedthemofmywillingnesstofight.
Itwasawarning,likethebrightbandsofcolourontheskinofaseasnake.It’sstillthere,thatscar,aslongandwhiteafteralltheseyearsasiteverwas.Andit’sstillakindofwarning.
Itouchit,andIseethekillerpleadingforhislife;Iremember,reflectedinthefright-filleddomesofhiseyes,fate’smirror,thesightofthetwisted,hatingthingthatIbecameinthefight.
Myfirstknifefightwasn’tmylast,andasIstoodoverMaurizioBelcane’sdeadbodyIfeltthecold,sharpmemoryofmyownexperiencesofstabbingandbeingstabbed.Hewasfacedowninakneelingposture,withhisupperbodyonacornerofthecouchandhislegsonthefloor.Besidehisslacklyfoldedrighthandtherewasarazor-sharpstilettorestingonthecarpet.Ablackhandledcarvingknifewasburiedtothecrankinhisback,alittletotheleftofhisspineandjustbelowtheshoulderblade.Itwasalong,wide,sharpknife.I’dseenthatknifebefore,inLisa’shand,thelasttimeMauriziohadmadethemistakeofcomingtotheapartmentuninvited.Thatwasonelessonheshould’velearnedthefirsttime.Wedon’t,ofcourse.It’sokay,Karlaoncesaid,becauseifwealllearnedwhatweshouldlearn,thefirsttimeround,wewouldn’tneedloveatall.Well,Mauriziohadlearnedthatlessonintheend,thehardway-facedowninhisownblood.HewaswhatDidiercalledafullymatureman.WhenI’dchidedDidieronceforbeingimmature,he’dtoldmethathewasproudanddelightedtobeimmature.Thefullymaturemanorwoman,hesaid,hasabouttwosecondslefttolive.
ThosethoughtsrolledoveroneanotherinmymindlikethesteelballsinCaptainQueeg’shand.Itwastheknifethatdidit,ofcourse:thememoryofstabbingandbeingstabbed.IrememberedthevividsecondseverytimeI’dbeenstabbed.Irememberedtheknivescuttingme,enteringmybody.Icouldstillfeelthesteelbladesinsideme.Itwaslikeburning.Itwaslikehate.Itwaslikethemostevilthoughtintheworld.Ishookmyheadandbreathedindeeply,andlookedathimagain.
Theknifemight’verupturedalungandpenetratedtotheheart.
Whateverithaddone,ithadfinishedhimfast.Hisbodyhadfallenontothecouchand,oncethere,he’dhardlymovedatall.
Itookahandfulofhisthick,blackhairandliftedhishead.
Hisdeadeyeswerehalfopen,andhislipswerepulledbackslightlyfromhisteethinarictalsmile.Therewasremarkablylittleblood.Thecouchhadabsorbedthebigspill.We’vegottagetridofthecouch,Iheardmyselfthinking.Thecarpethadsufferednogreatdamage,andcouldbecleaned.Theroomwasalsolittledisturbedbytheviolence.Alegwasbrokenonthecoffeetable,andthelocksonthefrontdoorhungaskew.Iturnedmyattentiontothewomen.
Ullaboreacutonherfacefromthecheekbonealmosttothechin.Icleanedthewoundandpressedittogetherwithtapeallalongthelengthofit.Thecutwasn’tdeep,andIexpectedittohealquickly,butIwassureitwouldleaveascar.Bychance,thebladehadfollowedthenaturalcurveofhercheekandjaw,addingaflashofemphasistotheshapeofherface.Herbeautywasinjuredbythewoundbutnotravagedbyit.Hereyes,however,wereabnormallywideandpiercedwithaterrorthatrefusedtofade.Therewasalungionthearmofthecouchbesideher.Iputitaroundhershoulders,andLisagaveheracupofhot,sweetchai.WhenIcoveredMaurizio’sbodywithablanketsheshuddered.Herfacecrumpledintopuckersofpain,andshecriedforthefirsttime.
Lisawascalm.Shewasdressedinapulloverandjeans,anoutfitthatonlyaBombaynativecouldwearonsuchahumid,still,andhotnight.Therewasthemarkofablowaroundhereyeandonhercheek.WhenUllawasquietagainwecrossedtheroomtostandnearthedoor,outofherhearing.Lisatookacigarette,bentherheadtolightitfrommymatch,andthenexhaled,lookingdirectlyintomyfaceforthefirsttimesinceI’denteredtheapartment.
“I’mgladyoucame.I’mgladyou’rehere.Icouldn’thelpit.Ihadtodoit,he-”
“Stopit,Lisa!”Iinterruptedher.Thetonewasharsh,butmyvoicewasquietandwarm.“Youdidn’tstabhim.Shedid.Icanseeitinhereyes.Iknowthelook.She’sstillstabbinghimnow,stillgoingoveritinhermind.She’llhavethatlookforawhile.You’retryingtoprotecther,butyouwon’thelpherbylyingtome.”
Shesmiled.Underthecircumstances,itwasaverygoodsmile.Ifwehadn’tbeenstandingnexttoadeadmanwithaknifeinhisheart,I’dhavefounditirresistible.
“Whathappened?”
“Idon’twanthertogethurt,that’sall,”sherepliedevenly.
Thesmileclosedupinthethin,grimlineofherpursedlips.
“NeitherdoI.Whathappened?”
“Hebustedin,slashedherup.Hewascrazy,outofhismind.Ithinkhewasonsomething.Hewasscreamingather,andshecouldn’tanswerhim.Shewasevencrazierthanhewas.Ispentanhourwithherbeforehecrashedinhere.ShetoldmeaboutModena.I’mnotsurprisedshewascrazy.It’s…fuck,Lin,it’sabadstory.Shewasoutofhermindbecauseofit.Anyway,hecrashedthroughthedoorlikeagorilla,andheslashedher.Hewascoveredinblood-Modena’s,Ithink.Itwasprettyfuckin’scary.Itriedtojumphimwiththeknifefromthekitchen.Hesockedmeprettygoodintheeyeandknockedmeonmyass.Ifellonthecouch.Hegotontopofme,andhewasjustabouttostartonmewiththatswitchbladeofhiswhenUllagaveittohimintheback.Hewasdeadinasecond.Iswear.Asecond.Onesecond.
Justlikethat.Hewaslookingatme,thenhewasdead.Shesavedmylife,Lin.”
“Ithinkit’smorelikelythatyousavedhers,Lisa.Ifyouweren’there,itwouldbeherhuggingthecouchwithaknifeinherback.”
Shebegantotrembleandshiver.Itookherinmyarmsandheldherforawhile,supportingherweight.Whenshewascalmagain,Ibroughtherakitchenchairandshesatdownshakily.Iphonedaround,andfoundAbdullah.Explainingwhathadhappenedinasfewwordsaspossible,ItoldhimtocontactHassaanObikwaintheAfricanghettoandbringhimtotheapartmentwithacar.
Littlebylittle,aswewaitedforAbdullahandHassaan,thestoryemerged.Ullawassuddenlytired,butIcouldn’tlethersleep.Notyet.Afterawhileshebegantospeak,addingadetailhereandtheretoLisa’saccount,andthengraduallytellingthewholestoryherself.
MaurizioBelcanemetSebastianModenainBombay,wherebothofthemmademoneyfromtheworktheyarrangedforforeignprostitutes.MauriziowastheonlysonofrichFlorentineparentswho’ddiedinaplanecrashwhenhewasachild.Byhisownaccount,repeatedtoUllawheneverhewasdrunk,hewasraisedwithindifferentduteousnessbydistantrelativeswho’dtoleratedhimreluctantlyinthelovelessshelteroftheirhome.AteighteenheseizedthefirsttrancheofhisinheritanceandfledtoCairo.Bytheageoftwenty-fivehe’dsquanderedthefortunelefttohimbyhisparents.Theremnantsofhisfamilycasthimout,nolessforhispenurythanforthemanyscandalsthathadpursuedhisprofligateprogressthroughtheMiddleEastandAsia.
Attwenty-sevenhefoundhimselfinBombay,brokeringsexforEuropeanprostitutes.
ThepointmanforMaurizio’soperationinBombaywasthediffident,dourSpaniard,SebastianModena.Thethirty-year-oldsoughtoutandapproachedwealthyArabandIndiancustomers.Hisshort,slightframeandtimidmannerworkedtohisadvantage,puttingthecustomersateasebyallayingtheirfearsandsuspicions.Hetookone-fifthofthecutthatMaurizioclaimedfromtheforeigngirls.UllabelievedthatModenawashappyenoughintheunequalrelationship,wherehedidmostofthedirtyworkandMauriziotookmostofthedirtymoney,becausehesawhimselfasapilotfishandthetall,handsomeItalianasashark.
HisbackgroundwasverydifferenttoMaurizio’s.OneofthirteenchildreninanAndalusianGypsyfamily,Modenahadgrownupwithanotionofhimselfastheruntofthelitter.Schooledmoreincrimethaninscholarship,andbarelyliterate,he’dworkedhiswayfromswindletogrifttopettylarcenyacrossTurkey,Iran,Pakistan,andIndia.Hepreyedontourists,nevertakingtoomuchandneverremainingtoolonginanyoneplace.ThenhemetMaurizio,andfortwoyearshe’dpanderedforthepimp,procuringclientsandputtingthemtogetherwiththegirlsinMaurizio’sstable.
Theymight’vegoneoninthatwayformuchlonger,butonedayMauriziowalkedintoLeopold’swithUlla.Fromthefirstmomentthattheireyesmet,Ullatoldus,sheknewthatModenawashopelesslyinlovewithher.Sheencouragedhimbecausehisdevotiontoherwasuseful.She’dbeenpurchasedfromMadameZhou’sPalace,andMauriziowasdeterminedtorecoverhisinvestmentcostsasquicklyaspossible.He’dinstructedthesmittenModenatofindworkforhertwiceaday,everyday,untilthedebtwasrepaid.Torturedbywhathesawasbetrayalsofhisownlove,ModenapressedhispartnertoreleaseUllafromtheobligation.Mauriziorefused,ridiculingtheSpaniard’saffectionforaworkinggirl,andinsistingthatheputhertoworkdayandnight.
UllapausedinherstorywhenatapatthedoorannouncedAbdullah’sarrival.ThetallIranianenteredsilently,dressedinblacklikeathingmadefromthenightitself.HegreetedmewithahugandnoddedgentlytoLisa.Shecameforwardandkissedhimonthecheek.HeliftedtheblankettolookatMaurizio’sbody.
Noddingandturningdownthecornersofhismouthinprofessionalapprovalofthesinglekillingthrust,helettheblanketfall,andmutteredaprayer.
“Hassaanisbusy.Hewillbehereafteraboutonehour,”hesaid.
“DidyoutellhimwhatIwanthimtodo?”
“Heknows,”hereplied,raisingoneeyebrowinatightsmile.
“Isitstillquietoutside?”
“Ichecked,beforeIcameinside.Thebuildingisquiet,andthestreetallaround.”
“There’sbeennoreactionfromtheneighbours,sofar.Hetookthedooroutwithonekick,Lisasays,andtherewasn’tallthatmuchshoutingandscreaming.TherewasloudmusicplayingnextdoorwhenIgothere.Itwasapartyorsomething.Idon’tthinkanyoneknowsaboutthis.”
“We…wehaveto_callsomeone!”Ullashoutedsuddenly,standingandlettingthelungifallfromhershoulders.“Weshould…calladoctor…callthepolice…”
Abdullahsprintedtoher,andwrappedherinhisarmswithsurprisinglytendercompassion.Hesatherdownagainandrockedher,murmuringreassuringly.IwatchedthemwithalittlepinchofshamebecauseIknewthatIshould’vecomfortedhermyself,longbeforethat,andinjustthesamegentleway.ButthefactwasthatMaurizio’sdeathhadcompromisedme,andIwasafraid.I’dhadreasonenoughtowanthimdead,andI’dbeatenhimwithmyfistsforit.Thatwas,inotherwords,amotiveformurder.
Peopleknewthat.IwasthereintheroomwithLisaandUlla,anditseemedthatIwashelpingthem,respondingtotheircallforhelp,butthatwasn’tallofit.Iwasalsotheretohelpmyself.
Iwastheretomakesurethatnopartofthestickywebofhisdeathclungtome.Andthat’swhytherewasnothinggentleinme,andallthetendernesscamefromanIraniankillernamedAbdullahTaheri.
Ullabegantospeakagain.Lisapouredheradrinkofvodkaandlimejuice.Shegulpedatit,andwentonwithherstory.Ittookquiteawhilebecauseshewasnervousandafraid.Sheskippedimportantdetailsfromtimetotime,andshewasloosewithherchronology,orderingthefactsastheyoccurredtoherinthetellingratherthanasthey’dhappened.Wehadtoaskquestionsandpromptherintoamoresequentialaccount,butlittlebylittlewegotitall.
ModenahadbeenthefirsttomeettheNigerian-thebusinessmanwho’dwantedtospendsixtythousanddollarsonheroin.HeintroducedhimtoMaurizio,andtooquickly,tooeasily,theAfricanhadpartedwithhismoney.Mauriziostolethemoneyandplannedtomoveon,butModenahadotherideas.HeseizedhischancetofreeUllaandridhimselfofMaurizio,themanheresentedforenslavingher.Hesnatchedthemoneyfromhim,andwentintohiding,promptingtheNigeriantosendhishit-squadtoBombay.TodistracttheunderstandablybloodthirstyAfricanswhilehesearchedforModena,MauriziohadgiventhemmynameandtoldthemI’dstolentheirmoney.AbdullahandIknewthenextpartofthatstorywellenough.
Forallhiscringingcowardicewithme,andhisdreadthattheNigeriansmightreturntohunthimdown,MaurizioBelcanecouldn’tcuthislossesandleavethecity.Hecouldn’tridhisheartofthekillingragehefeltforModenaandtherighteouslusthefeltforthemoneythey’dstolentogether.ForweekshewatchedUllaandfollowedhereverywhere.Heknewthat,soonerorlater,Modenawouldcontacther.WhentheSpaniarddidmakethatcontact,Ullawenttohim.Withoutrealisingit,shealsoledthecrazedItaliantothecheapDadarhotelwherehisformerpartnerwashiding.Maurizioburstintotheroom,buthefoundModenaalone.Ullawasgone.Themoneywasgone.Modenawasill.
Somesicknesshadruinedhim.Ullathoughtitmight’vebeenmalaria.Mauriziogaggedhim,tiedhimtothesickbed,andwenttoworkonhimwiththestiletto.Modena,tougherthananyoneknewandtaciturntotheend,refusedtotellhimthatUllawashidinginanadjoiningroom,onlyfootstepsaway,withallthemoney.
“WhenMauriziostoppedwiththeknife…thecutting…andlefttheroom,Iwaitedforalongtime,”Ullasaid,staringatthecarpetandshiveringbeneaththeblanket.Lisawassittingontheflooratherfeet.ShegentlyprisedtheglassfromUlla’sfingers,andgaveheracigarette.Ullaacceptedit,butshedidn’tsmoke.ShelookedintoLisa’seyes,andcranedherneckaroundtolookintoAbdullah’sfaceandthenmine.
“Iwassoafraid,”shepleaded.“Iwastoomuchafraid.AfteratimeIwentintotheroom,andIsawhim.Hewaslyingonthebed.Therewastheragtiedonhismouth.Hewastieduptothebed,andhecouldmoveonlyhishead.Hewascutupallover.Onhisface.Onhisbody.Everywhere.Therewassomuchblood.Somuchblood.Hekeptlookingatme,withhisblackeyesstaring,andstaring.Ilefthimthere…andI…Iranaway.”
“Youjustlefthimthere?”Lisagasped.
Shenodded.
“Youdidn’tevenuntiehim?”
Shenoddedagain.
“JesusChrist!”Lisaspatoutbitterly.Shelookedup,movingheranguishedeyesfromAbdullah’sfacetomineandbackagain.“Shedidn’ttellmethatpartofit.”
“Ulla,listentome.Doyouthinkhemightstillbethere?”Iasked.
Shenoddedathirdtime.IlookedatAbdullah.
“IhaveagoodfriendinDadar,”hesaid.“Whereisthehotel?
Whatisthename?”
“Idon’tknow,”shemumbled.“It’snexttoamarket.Attheback,wheretheythrowtherubbishaway.Thesmellisverybad.Nowait,Iremember,Isaidthenameinthetaxi-itiscalledKabir’s.That’sit.That’sthename.Oh,God!WhenIlefthim,Ijustthought…Iwassuretheywouldfindhim…and…andmakehimfree.Doyouthinkhemightbeonthatbeduntilnow?Doyouthink?”Abdullahphonedhisfriend,andarrangedtohavesomeonecheckthehotel.
“Where’sthemoney?”Idemanded.
Shehesitated.
“Themoney,Ulla.Giveittome.”
Shestoodupshakily,supportedbyLisa,andwalkedintothebedroomshe’dused.Momentslatershereturnedwithatravelflightbag.Shehandedittome,herexpressionstrangelycontradictory-coquetteandadversaryinequalparts.IopenedthebagandtookoutseveralbundlesofAmericanhundred-dollarbills.Icountedouttwentythousanddollars,andpushedtherestbackintothebag.Ireturnedthebagtoher.
“TenthousandisforHassaan,”Ideclared.“FivethousandistogetyouanewpassportandatickettoGermany.Fivethousandistocleanuphere,andsetLisaupinanewapartmentontheothersideoftown.Therestisyours.AndModena’s,ifhemakesit.”
Shewantedtoreply,butasofttapatthedoorannouncedHassaan’sarrival.Thestocky,thicklymuscledNigerianentered,andgreetedAbdullahandmewarmly.Liketherestofus,hewasacclimatisedtoBombay’sheat,andheworeaheavysergejacketandbottle-greenjeanswithnotraceofdiscomfort.HepulledtheblanketfromMaurizio’sbodyandpinchedtheskin,flexedadeadarm,andsniffedatthecorpse.
“Igotagoodplastic,”hesaid,dumpingaheavyplasticdropsheetontothefloorandunfoldingit.“Wegottotakeoffallthemclothes.Andanyofhisringsandchains.Justtheman,that’sallwewant.We’llpulltheteethlater.”
Hepaused,whenIdidn’treplyorreact,andlookeduptoseemestaringatthetwowomen.Theirfaceswerestiffwithdread.
“Howabout…yougetUllaintheshower,”IsaidtoLisawithagrimlittlesmile.“Haveoneyourself.Ireckonwe’llbefinishedhereinalittlewhile.”
LisaledUllaintothebathroom,andranashowerforher.WedumpedMaurizio’sbodyontotheplasticsheetandstrippeditofitsclothes.Hisskinwaspallid,matt,andinsomeplacesmarbled-grey.InlifeMauriziowasatall,well-builtman.Deadandnakedhelookedthinner,feeblersomehow.Ishould’vepitiedhim.Evenifweneverpitythematanyothertime,andinanyotherway,weshouldpitythedeadwhenwelookatthem,andtouchthem.Pityistheonepartoflovethatasksfornothinginreturnand,becauseofthat,everyactofpityisakindofprayer.Anddeadmendemandprayers.Thesilentheart,thetumblednaveofthechestunbreathing,andthegutteredcandlesoftheeyes-theysummonourprayers.Eachdeadmanisatempleinruins,andwhenoureyeswalkthereweshouldpity,weshouldpray.
ButIdidn’tpityhim.Yougotwhatyoudeserve,Ithought,aswerolledhisbodyintheplasticsheet.Ifeltdespicableandmeansouledforthinkingit,butthewordswormedtheirwaythroughmybrainlikeamurderouswhisperworkingitswaythroughanangrymob.Yougotwhatyoudeserve.
Hassaanhadbroughtalaundry-styletrolleybasketwithhim.Wewheeleditintotheroomfromthecorridor.Maurizio’sbodywasbeginningtostiffenup,andwewereforcedtocrunchthelegstofititintothebasket.Wewheeledandcarrieditdowntwoflightsofstairsunobserved,andoutintothequietstreet,whereHassaan’sdeliveryvanwasparked.Hismenusedthevaneverydaytodeliverfish,bread,fruit,vegetables,andkerosenetohisshopsintheAfricanghetto.Weliftedthewheeledbasketintothebackofthevan,andcoveredtheplastic-wrappedbodywithloavesofbread,basketsofvegetables,andtraysoffish.
“Thanks,Hassaan,”Isaid,shakinghishandandpassinghimthetenthousanddollars.Hestuffedthemoneyintothefrontofhisjacket.
“No,”herumbledinthebassovoicethatcommandedunquestioningrespectinhisghetto.“Iamveryhappytodothiswork.Now,Lin,weareeven.Alleven.”
HenoddedtoAbdullahandleftus,walkinghalfablocktohisparkedcar.Raheemleanedoutofthevantoflashawidesmileatmebeforeturningovertheenginewithaflickofhiswrist.Hedroveawaywithoutlookingback.Hassaan’scarfolloweditafewhundredmetresbehind.WeneverheardsomuchasamurmuraboutMaurizioagain.ItwasrumouredthatHassaanObikwakeptapitinthecentreofhisslum.Somesaidthepitwasfullofrats.Someclaimedthatitwasfilledwithscuttlingcrabs.Otherssworethathekepthugepigsinthepit.Whateverthehungrycreatureswere,allthewhisperersagreedthattheywerefedfromtimetotimewithadeadman,onepieceofthecorpseatatime.
“Moneyyoudidspendwell,”Abdullahmuttered,withablankexpression,aswewatchedthevandriveaway.
Wereturnedtotheapartment,andrepairedthedoorlockssothedoorcouldbesealedshutwhenweallleft.Abdullahphonedanothercontactandarrangedfortworeliablementovisittheapartmentonthefollowingday.Theirinstructionsweretobringasaw,cutthecouchintopieces,andremoveitinrubbishsacks.Theyweretocleanthecarpetandleavetheapartmentinanorderlystate,removingeverytraceofitsrecentoccupants.
Heputthephonedown,anditrangatonce.HiscontactinDadarhadnews.Modenahadbeendiscoveredbystaffinthehotelroom,andrushedtohospital.Thecontacthadvisitedthehospital,andlearnedthattheweakandwoundedmanhadcheckedhimselfoutoftheward.Hewaslastseenspeedingawayinataxi.Thedoctorwho’dattendedhimdoubtedthathewouldsurvivethenight.
“It’sweird,”IsaidwhenAbdullahhadrelatedthenews.“IknewModena,youknow…Isortofknewhimwell.IsawhimatLeopold’s…Idon’tknow…ahundredtimes.ButIcan’trememberhisvoice.Ican’trememberwhathesoundedlike.Ican’thearhisvoiceinmyhead,ifyouknowwhatImean.”
“Ilikedhim,”Abdullahsaid.
“I’msurprisedtohearyousaythat.”
“Why?”
“I’mnotsure,”Ireplied.“Hewasso…someek.”
“Hewouldhavemadeagoodsoldier.”
Iraisedmyeyebrowsingreatersurprise.Modenawasn’tjustmeek,itseemedtomethen,hewasaweakman.Icouldn’timaginewhatAbdullahmeant.Ididn’tknowthenthatgoodsoldiersaredefinedbywhattheycanendure,notbywhattheycaninflict.
Andwhenallthelooseendswerecutortied,whenUllaleftthecityforGermany,andLisamovedtoanewapartment,andthelastquestionsaboutModenaandMaurizioandUllafaltered,faded,andceased,itwasthemysteriouslyvanishedSpaniardwhoclaimedmythoughtsmostoften.Imadetwodouble-shuffleflightstoDelhiandbackinthenexttwoweeks.Ifollowedthatbyflyingaseventy-twohourturnaroundtoKinshasawithtennewpassportsforAbdulGhani’snetwork.Itriedtokeepbusy,triedtofocusonthework,butthescreeninmymindwasfilledtoooftenwithanimageofhim,Modena,tiedtothebedandstaringatUlla,watchingherleavehimthere,watchingherwalkawaywiththemoney.Andgagged.Nowaytoscream.Andwhathemust’vethoughtwhensheenteredtheroom…I’msaved…Andwhathemust’vethoughtwhenhesawtheterrorinherface.Andwastheresomethingelseinhereyes:wasitrevulsion,orwasitmoreterriblethanthat?Didshelookrelieved,perhaps?Didsheseemgladtoberidofhim?Andwhatdidhefeelwhensheturnedandwalkedawayandlefthimthere,andclosedthedoorbehindher?
WhenIwasinprisonIfellinlovewithawomanwhowasanactressinapopulartelevisionprogram.Shecameintotheprisontoteachclassesinactingandtheatreforourprisondramagroup.Weclicked,astheysay.Shewasabrilliantactress.Iwasawriter.Shewasthephysicalvoiceandgesture.Isawmywordsbreatheandmoveinher.Wecommunicatedintheshorthandsharedbyartistseverywhereintheworld:rhythm,andelation.
Afteratime,shetoldmethatshewasinlovewithme.Ibelievedher,andIstillbelievethatitwastrue.Formonthswefedtheaffairwithmorselsoftimestolenfromtheactingclasses,andlonglettersthatIsmuggledtoherthroughtheillegaljailmailsystemknownasthestiff-letterrun.
ThentroublefoundmeandIwasthrown,literally,intothepunishmentunit.Idon’tknowhowthescrewsfoundoutaboutourromance,butsoonafterIarrivedinthepunishmentblocktheybegantointerrogatemeaboutit.Theywerefurious.Theysawheraffairwithaprisoner,carriedonformonthsundertheirnoses,asahumiliatingaffronttotheirauthorityand,perhaps,totheirmanhood.Theybeatmewithboots,fists,andbatons,tryingtoforcemetoadmitthatsheandIhadbeenlovers.Theywantedtousemyconfessionasthebasisforlayingachargeagainsther.Duringonebeatingtheyheldupaphotographofher.Itwasasmilingpublicitystillthatthey’dfoundintheprisondramagroup.TheytoldmethatallIhadtodotostopthebeatingswasnodmyheadatit.Justnodyourhead,theysaid,holdingthepicturebeforemybloodyface.Justnodyourhead,that’sallyouhavetodo,andit’llallbeover.
Ineveradmittedanything.Iheldherloveinthevaultofmyheartwhiletheytriedtoreachitthroughmyskinandmybones.
Thenoneday,asIsatinmycellafterabeating,tryingtostopthebloodflowingintomymouthfromachippedboneinmycheekandmybrokennose,thetrapdooropenedinthedoorofmycell.Aletterflutteredinandlandedonthefloor.Thetrapdoorshut.Icrawledovertotheletter,andcrawledbacktothebedtoreadit.Theletterwasfromher.ItwasaDearJohnletter.She’dmetaman,shesaid.Hewasamusician.HerfriendshadallurgedhertobreakupwithmebecauseIwasservingatwenty-yearsentenceinprison,andtherewasnofutureinitforeitherofus.Shelovedthenewman,andsheplannedtomarryhimwhenhisconcerttourwiththesymphonyorchestrawascomplete.ShehopedIunderstood.Shewassorry,buttheletterwasgoodbye,goodbyeforever,andshewouldneverseemeagain.
Blooddrippedontothepagefrommybrokenface.Thescrewshadreadtheletter,ofcourse,beforegivingittome.Theylaughedoutsidemydoor.Theylaughed.Ilistenedtothemastheytriedtomakeavictoryofthatlaughter,andIwonderedifhernewman,hermusician,wouldstandupundertortureforher.Maybehewould.Youcannevertellwhatpeoplehaveinsidethemuntilyoustarttakingitaway,onehopeatatime.
Andsomehow,intheweeksafterMaurizio’sdeath,Modena’sface,ormymind’spictureofhisgaggedandbloodyandstaringface,becameconfusedwithmyownmemoriesofthatloveI’dlostinprison.Iwasn’tsurewhy:theredidn’tseemtobeanyspecialreasonwhyModena’sfatewouldtwistitselfintothestrandsofmyown.Butitdid,andIfeltadarknessgrowingwithinmethatwastoonumbforsorrowandtoocoldforrage.
Itriedtofightit.IkeptmyselfasbusyasIcould.IworkedintwomoreBollywoodfilms,takingsmallparts-asanextraatapartyandinastreetscene.ImetwithKavita,urgingheronceagaintovisitAnandinprison.Mostafternoons,ItrainedatweightsandboxingandkaratewithAbdullah.Iputinadayhereandthereattheslumclinic.IhelpedPrabakerandJohnnytopreparefortheirweddings.IlistenedtoKhaderbhai’slectures,andimmersedmyselfinthebooks,manuscripts,parchments,andancientfaiencecarvingsinAbdulGhani’sextensiveprivatecollection.Butnoworkorwearinesscoulddrivethedarknessfromme.Littlebylittle,thetorturedSpaniard’sfaceandsilent,screamingeyesbecamemyownrememberedmoment:bloodfallingonthepage,andnosoundescapingmyhowlingmouth.Theyclaimahiddencornerofourhearts,allthosemomentsthatstaywithusunscreamed.That’swhereloves,likeelephants,dragthemselvestodie.It’stheplacewhereprideallowsitselftocry.Andinthosesleep-lonelynightsandthink-rambleddays,Modena’sfacewasalwaysthere,staringatthedoor.
AndwhileIworkedandworried,Leopold’schangedforever.Thecrowdthathadcoalescedtheredispersedanddisappeared.Karlawasgone.Ullawasgone.Modenawasgone,andprobablydead.Mauriziowasdead.Once,whenIwastoobusytostopforadrink,IpassedthewideentrancearchesandIsawnofacethatIknew.YetDidierpersistedathisfavouritetableeachevening,conductinghisbusinessandacceptingdrinksfromoldfriends.Graduallyanewcrowdcollectedaroundhimwithanewanddifferentstyle.
LisaCarterbroughtKalpanaIyerwithherfordrinksonenight,andtheyoungassistantproducerbecameaLeopold’sregular.
VikramandLettiewereinthelaststagesofpreparationfortheirwedding,andtheystoppedforcoffee,asnack,orabeeralmosteveryday.AnwarandDilip,twoyoungjournalistswhoworkedwithKavitaSingh,acceptedherinvitationtodropinandlooktheplaceover.OntheirfirstvisittheyfoundLisaCarter,Kalpana,Kavita,andLettie,withthreeGermangirlswho’dworkedforLisaasextrasonafilm-sevenbeautiful,intelligent,vivaciousyoungwomen.AnwarandDilipwerehealthy,happy,unattachedyoungmen.TheycametoLeopold’severydayandnightafterthat.
TheambiencecreatedbythenewgroupwasdifferenttothatwhichhadfloweredaroundKarlaSaaranen.TheindelibleclevernessandpiercingwitthatwereKarla’sgiftshadinspiredherowngroupoffriendstoamoreprofounddiscourseandahigher,thinnerlaughter.ThenewgrouptookitsmoreerratictonefromDidier,whocombinedtheexpressivemordancyofhissarcasmwithaproclivityforthevulgar,theobscene,andthescatological.Thelaughterwaslouder,andprobablymorefrequent,buttherewerenophrasesthatremainedwithmefromthejokesorthejokers.
Thenonenight,adayafterVikrammarriedLettie,andafewweeksafterMauriziowentintoHassaanObikwa’spit,asIsatamongstthenewgroupwhilethecawing,shriekinggullsofgoodhumoursettledonthem,sendingupsquawksoflaughterandflutteringhands,IsawPrabakerthroughtheopenarch.Hewavedtome,andIleftthetabletojoinhiminhiscabparkednearby.
“Hey,Prabu,what’sup?We’recelebratingVikram’swedding!HeandLettiegotmarriedyesterday.”
“Yes,Linbaba.Sorryfordisturbingthenewly-marriages.”
“It’sokay.They’renothere.They’vegonetoLondon,tomeetherparents.Butwhat’sup?”
“Up,Linbaba?”“Yeah,Imeanwhatareyoudoinghere?Tomorrow’syourbigday.Ithoughtyou’dbedrinkingitupwithJohnnyandtheotherguysatthezhopadpatti.”
“Afterthistalkonly.ThenIwillgo,”hereplied,fidgetingnervouslywiththesteeringwheel.Bothfrontdoorsofthecarwereopenforthebreeze.Itwasahotnight.Thestreetswerecrowdedwithcouples,families,andsingleyoungmentryingtofindacoolwindoracuriositysomewheretodistractthemfromtheheat.ThecrowdwhostreamedalongtheroadbesidetheparkedcarsbegantoeddyaroundPrabaker’sopendoor,andhepulleditshuthard.
“Areyouokay?”
“Oh,yes,Lin,Iamvery,veryfine,”hesaid.Thenhelookedatme.“No.Notreally,baba.Infactofspeaking,Iamvery,verybad.”
“Whatisit?”
“Well,howtotellyouthisthing.Linbaba,youknowIamgettingamarriagetoParvatitomorrow.Doyouknow,baba,thefirsttimeIeversawhermyParvati,wasbeforesixyears,whenshewassixteenyearsoldonly.Thatfirsttime,whenshefirstcametothezhopadpatti,beforeherdaddyKumarhadhischaishop,shewaslivinginalittlehutwithhermummyanddaddyandsister,theSitawhoisamarriageforJohnnyCigar.Andthatfirstday,shecarriedamatkaofwaterbackfromthecompanywell.Shecarrieditonherhead.”
Hepaused,watchingtheaquariumoftheswirlingstreetthroughthewindscreenofthecab.Hisfingernailpickedattherubberleopard’sskincoverhe’dlacedontohissteeringwheel.Igavehimtime.
“Anyway,”hecontinued,“Iwaswatchingher,andshewastryingtocarrythatheavymatka,andwalkontheroughtrack.Andthatmatka,itmusthavebeenaveryoldone,andtheclaywasweak,becausesuddenlyitjustbrokeupinpieces,andallthewaterspilleddownonher.Shecriedandcriedsomuch.IlookedatherandIfelt…”
Hepaused,lookingupatthestrollingstreetoncemore.
“Sorryforher?”Ioffered.
“No,baba.Ifelt…”
“Sad?Youfeltsadforher?”
“No,baba.Ifeltaerection,inmypants,youknow,whenthepenisisgettingallhard,likeyourthinking.”
“ForGod’ssake,Prabu!Iknowwhatanerectionis!”Igrumbled.
“Getonwithit.Whathappened?”
“Nothinghappened,”hereplied,puzzledbymyirritation,andsomewhatchastened.“Butfromthattimeonly,Ineverforgotmybig,bigfeelingforher.NowIammakingamarriage,andthatbig,bigfeelingisgettingbiggereveryday.”
“I’mnotsurethatIlikewherethisisgoing,Prabu,”Imuttered.
“Iamaskingyou,Lin,”hesaid,chokingonthewords.Hefacedme.Tearsbulgedandrolledfromhiseyesintohislap.Hisvoicecameinstutteringsobs.“Sheistoobeautiful.Iamaveryshortandsmallman.DoyouthinkIcanmakeagoodandsexyhusband?”
ItoldPrabaker,sittinginhiscabandwatchinghimcry,thatlovemakesmenbig,andhatemakesthemsmall.ItoldhimthatmylittlefriendwasoneofthebiggestmenIevermetbecausetherewasn’tanyhateinhim.IsaidthatthebetterIknewhim,thebiggerhegot,andItriedtotellhimhowrarethatwas.AndIjokedwithhim,andlaughedwithhimuntilthatgreatsmile,asbigasachild’sbiggestwish,returnedtohisgentleroundface.
Hedroveawaytowardthebachelorpartythatwaswaitingforhimintheslum,andsoundedthehorntriumphantlyuntilhewasoutofsight.
Thenightthatwalkedme,longafterheleft,waslonelierthanmost.Ididn’tgobacktoLeopold’s.IwalkedinsteadalongtheCauseway,pastmyapartment,andontoPrabaker’sslumatCuffeParade.IfoundtheplacewhereTariqandIfoughttheviciouspackontheNightoftheWildDogs.Therewasstillasmallpileofscraptimberandstonesonthespot.Isatthere,smokingthedarkness,andwatchingthesloweleganceoftheslum-dwellersdriftingbackalongthedustytracktothehuddleofhuts.Ismiled.ThinkingofPrabaker’smightysmilealwaysmademesmilereflexivelyasifIwaslookingatahappy,healthybaby.ThenavisionofModena’sfaceflowedfromtheflickeringlanternsandvaporouswreathsofsmoke,andfadedagaintonothingbeforeitwasfullyformed.Musicstartedupinsidetheslum.Astrollinggroupofyoungmenquickenedtheirpacetojogtowardthestirringsound.Prabaker’sbachelorpartyhadbegun.He’dinvitedme,butIcouldn’tbringmyselftogo.Isatnearenoughtohearthehappiness,butfarenoughawaynottofeelit.
ForyearsI’dtoldmyselfthatlovehadmademestrongwhentheprisonguardstriedtoforcemetobetraytheactressandouraffair.Somehow,Modenahadhauntedthetruthfromme.Itwasn’tloveforherthathadkeptmesilent,anditwasn’tabraveheart.Itwasstubbornnessthathadgivenmethestrengthtobitedown;stiff-necked,bullheadedstubbornness.Therewasnothingnobleinit.Andforallmycontemptforthecowardiceofbullies,hadn’tIbecomeabullywhenIwasdesperateenough?Whenthedragon-clawsofheroinsicknessdugintomybackIbecameasmallman,atinyman.IbecamesosmallthatIhadtouseagun.Ihadtopointagunatpeople,manyofthemwomen,togetmoney.Togetmoney.HowwasIdifferent,inthat,toMauriziobullyingwomentogetmoney?Andifthey’dshotmeduringoneofthosehold-ups,ifthecopshadgunnedmedownasI’dwantedandexpectedatthetime,mydeathwould’vearousedanddeservedaslittlepityasthatofthecrazedItalian.
Istoodupandstretched,lookingaroundmeandthinkingofthedogsandthefightandthebraveryofthelittleboyTariq.WhenIstartedbacktowardthecity,IheardasuddeneruptionofhappylaughterfrommanyvoicesatPrabaker’sparty,followedbyacloudburstrattleofapplause.Andthemusicdwindledwiththedistanceuntilitwasasfaintanddiminishableasanymomentoftruth.
Walkingthroughthenight,alonewiththecityforhours,Ilovedherwithmywandering,justasI’ddonewhenIlivedintheslum.
NeardawnIboughtanewspaper,foundacafe,andateabigbreakfast,lingeringoverasecondandthenathirdpotofchai.
TherewasanarticleonpagethreeofthepaperdescribingthemiraculousgiftsoftheBlueSisters,asRasheed’swidowandhersisterhadbecomeknown.Itwasasyndicatedarticle,writtenbyKavitaSinghandpublishedacrossthecountry.Initshegaveabriefhistoryoftheirstoryandthenrelatedseveralfirst-handaccountsofmiraculouscuresthathadbeenattributedtothemysticalpowersthegirlsexercised.Onewomanclaimedtohavebeencuredoftuberculosis,anotherinsistedthatherhearinghadbeenfullyrestored,andanelderlymandeclaredthathiswitheredlungswerestrongandhealthyagainafterhemerelytouchedahemoftheirsky-bluegarments.KavitaexplainedthatthenameBlueSisterswasn’ttheirownchoice:theyworeblue,always,becausetheywokefromtheircomaswithashareddreamaboutfloatinginthesky,andtheirdevoteeshadsettledonthename.ThearticleconcludedwithKavita’sownaccountofameetingwiththegirls,andherconvictionthattheywere,beyondanydoubt,special-perhapsevensupernatural-beings.
Ipaidthebill,andborrowedapenfromthecashiertocirclethearticlewithseverallines.Asthestreetsunwoundthetangledmorningcoilofsound,colour,andcommotion,ItookacabandjouncedthroughrecklesstraffictotheArthurRoadPrison.Afterawaitofthreehours,Imademywayintothevisitingarea.Itwasasingleroomdivideddownthecentrebytwowallsofcyclonewirethatwereseparatedbyanemptyspaceofabouttwometres.Ononesidewerethevisitors,squeezedtogetherandholdingtheirplacesbyclingingtothewire.Acrossthegapandbehindtheotherwirefenceweretheprisoners,crushedtogetherandalsograspingatthewiretosteadythemselves.Therewereabouttwentyprisoners.Fortyofuscrowdedintoanequalspaceonthevisitors’side.Everyman,woman,andchildinthedividedroomwasshouting.Thereweresomanylanguages-Irecognisedsixofthem,andstoppedcountingasadooropenedontheprisoners’side.Anandentered,pushinghiswaythroughtothewire.
“Anand!Anand!Here!”Ishouted.
Hiseyesfoundme,andhesmiledingreeting.
“Linbaba,sogoodtoseeyou!”heshoutedbackatme.
“Youlookgood,man!”Icalledout.Hedidlookwell.Iknewhowharditwastolookwellinthatplace.Iknewwhatanefforthe’dputintoit,cleaningbodylicefromhisclotheseverydayandwashingintheworm-infestedwater.“Youlookrealgood!”
“Arrey,youlookveryfine,Lin.”
Ididn’tlookfine.Iknewthat.Ilookedworriedandguiltyandtired.
“I’m…abittired.MyfriendVikram-yourememberhim?Hegotmarriedyesterday.Thedaybeforeyesterday,actually.I’vebeenwalkingallnight.”
“HowisQasimAli?Ishewell?”
“He’swell,”Ireplied,reddeningalittlewithshamethatIdidn’tseethegoodandnobleheadmanasoftenasIusedto,whenI’dlivedintheslum.“Look!Lookatthisnewspaper.
There’sanarticleinitaboutthesisters.Itmentionsyou.Wecanusethistohelpyou.Wecanbuildupsomesympathyforyou,beforeyourcasecomestocourt.”
Hislong,lean,handsomefacedarkenedinafrownthatdrewhisbrowstogetherandpressedhislipsintoatight,defiantcrease.
“Youmustnotdothis,Lin!”heshoutedbackatme.“Thatjournalist,thatKavitaSingh,shewashere.Isentheraway.Ifshecomesagain,Iwillsendherawayagain.Idonotwantanyhelp,andIwillnotallowanyhelp.IwanttohavethepunishmentforwhatIdidtoRasheed.”
“Butyoudon’tunderstand,”Iinsisted.“Thegirlsarefamousnow.Peoplethinkthey’reholy.Peoplethinktheycanworkmiracles.There’sthousandsofdevoteescomingtothezhopadpattieveryweek.Whenpeopleknowyouweretryingtohelpthem,they’llfeelsympathyforyou.You’llgethalfthetime,orevenless.”
Iwasshoutingmyselfhoarse,tryingtobeheardaboveorwithintheclamouringdin.Itwassohotinthecrushofbodiesthatmyshirtwasalreadysoaked,andclungtomyskin.HadIheardhimcorrectly?Itseemedimpossiblethathewouldrejectanyhelpthatmightreducehissentence.Withoutthathelp,hewassuretoserveaminimumoffifteenyears.Fifteenyearsinthishell,Ithought,staringthroughthewireathisfrowningface.Howcouldherefuseourhelp?
“Lin!No!”hecriedout,louderthanbefore.“IdidthatthingtoRasheed.IknewwhatIwasdoing.Iknewwhatwouldhappen.Isatwithhimforalongtime,beforeIdidit.Imadeachoice.Imusthavethepunishment.”
“ButIhavetohelpyou.Ihaveto_try.”
“No,Lin,please!Ifyoutakethispunishmentaway,thentherewillbenomeaningforwhatIdid.Therewillbenohonour.Notforme,notforthem.Can’tyouseeit?Ihaveearnedthispunishment.Ihavebecomemyfate.Iambeggingyou,asafriend.
Pleasedonotletthemwriteanythingmoreaboutme.Writeabouttheladies.Thesisters.Yes!Butletmehavethepeaceofmyfate.Doyoupromiseme?Linbaba?Doyouswearit?”
Myfingersclutchedatthediamondsofthewirefence.Ifeltthecoldrustymetalbiteattheboneswithinmyhands.Thenoiseinthatwoodenroomwaslikeawildrainstormontheraggedrooftopsoftheslum.Beseeching,entreating,adoring,yearning,crying,screaming,andlaughing,thehystericalchorusesshoutedfromcagetocage.
“Swearittome,Lin,”hesaid,thedistressreachingouttomedesperatelyfromhispleadingeyes.
“Okay,okay,”Iansweredhim,strugglingtoletthewordsescapefromthelittleprisonofmythroat.
“Swearittome!”
“Allright!Allright!Iswearit.ForGod’ssake,Iswear…Iwon’ttrytohelpyou.”
Hisfacerelaxed,andthesmilereturned,burningmyeyeswiththebeautyofit.“Thankyou,Linbaba!”heshoutedbackhappily.“Pleasedon’tbethinkingIamungrateful,butIdon’twantyoutocomebackhereagain.Idon’twantyoutovisitme.Youcanputsomemoneyforme,sometimes,ifyouthinkofit.Butpleasedon’tcomebackagain.Thisismylifenow.Thisismylife.Itwillbehardforme,ifyoucomebackhere.Iwillthinkaboutthings.Ithankyouverymuch,Lin,andIwishafullhappinessforyou.”
Hishandsreleasedtheirholdonthewirefence.Heheldthemtogetherinaprayinggestureofblessing,bowinghisheadslightly,sothatIlostcontactwithhiseyes.Withoutthatstronggriponthefencehewasatthemercyofthecrowdofprisoners,andinsecondshefellback,vanishingintothebubblingwaveoffacesandhandsatthewire.Adooratthebackoftheroomopenedbehindtheprisoners,andIwatchedAnandslipthroughintothehotyellowlightofdaywithhisheadhighandhisthinshouldersbravelysquared.
Isteppedoutontothestreetoutsidetheprison.Myhairwaswetwithsweat,andmyclothesweresoaked.Isquintedinthesunlightandstaredatthebusystreet,tryingtoforcemyselfintoitsrhythmandrush,tryingnottothinkaboutAnandinthelongroomwiththeoverseers,withBigRahul,withthehungerandthebeatingsandthefilthy,swarmingpests.LaterthatnightIwouldbewithPrabakerandJohnnyCigar,Anand’sfriends,whiletheycelebratedthedoublewedding.Laterthatnight,Anandwouldbecrammedintoawrithing,lice-crawlingsleepwithtwohundredothermenonastonefloor.Andthatwouldgoon,andon,forfifteenyears.
Itookacabtomyapartmentandstoodunderahotshower,scorchingtheslitheranditchofmemoryfrommyskin.Later,IphonedChandraMehtatomakethefinalarrangementsforthedancersI’dhiredtoperformatPrabaker’swedding.ThenIphonedKavitaSingh,andtoldherthatAnandwantedustopulloutofthecampaign.Shewasrelieved,Ithink.Herkindhearthadfrettedforhim,andshe’dfearedfromthefirstthatthecampaignwouldfailandthencrushhimwiththeweightoffallenhope.Shewasalsogladthathe’dgivenhisblessingtoherstoriesabouttheBlueSisters.Thegirlsfascinatedher,andshe’darrangedforadocumentaryfilm-makertovisitthemintheslum.Shewantedtotalkabouttheproject,andIheardthesparklingenthusiasminhervoicebutIcutheroff,promisingtocallagain.
Iwentouttomylittlebalcony,andletthesoundandsmellofthecitysettleontheskinofmybarechest.Inacourtyardbelow,Isawthreeyoungmenrehearsingthemovesandstepsofadanceroutinethey’dcopiedfromaBollywoodfilm.Theylaughedhelplesslywhentheymessedupthemovesofthepartypiece,andthengaveacheerwhentheyfinallydancedthroughonewholeroutinewithouterror.Inanotheryardsomewomenweresquattingtogether,washingdisheswithsmallanemonesofcoirropeandalongbarofcoral-colouredsoap.Theirconversationcametomeinlaughinggaspsandshrieksastheyscandalisedoneanotherwithgossipandsardoniccommentariesonthepeculiarhabitsoftheirneighbours’husbands.ThenIlookeduptoseeanelderlymansittinginawindowoppositeme.Myeyesmethis,andIsmiled.He’dbeenwatchingmeasI’dwatchedtheothersbelow.Hewaggedhisheadfromsidetoside,andsmiledbackatmewithahappygrin.
Anditwasallright.Idressed,andwentdowntothestreet.Imadetheroundsoftheblack-marketcurrencycollectioncentres,andcheckedinatAbdulGhani’spassportfactory,andinspectedthegold-smugglingringI’drestructuredinKhader’sname.InthreehoursIcommittedthirtycrimesormore.AndIsmiledwhenpeoplesmiledatme.Whenitwasnecessary,Igavemenenoughbadhead,asgangsterscallit,tomakethemdrawbackandlowertheireyesinfear.Iwalkedthegoondawalk,andinthreelanguagesItalkedthetalk.Ilookedgood.Ididmyjob.Imademoney,andIwasstillfree.Butintheblackroom,deepinmymind,anotherimageaddeditselftothesecretgallery-animageofAnand,holdingthepalmsofhishandstogether,ashisradiantsmilebecameablessingandaprayer
Everythingyoueversense,intouchortasteorsightoreventhought,hasaneffectonyouthat’sgreaterthanzero.Somethings,likethebackgroundsoundofabirdchirpingasitpassesyourhouseintheevening,oraflowerglimpsedoutofthecornerofaneye,havesuchaninfinitesi-mallysmalleffectthatyoucan’tdetectthem.Somethings,liketriumphandheartbreak,andsomeimages,liketheimageofyourselfreflectedintheeyesofamanyou’vejuststabbed,attachthemselvestothesecretgalleryandtheychangeyourlifeforever.
ThatlastimageofAnand,thelasttimeIeversawhim,hadthateffectonme.Itwasn’tcompassionforhimthatIfeltsodeeply,althoughIdidpityhimasonlyachainedmancould.Itwasn’tshame,althoughIwastrulyashamedthatIhadn’tlistenedwhenhe’dfirsttriedtotellmeaboutRasheed.Itwassomethingelse,somethingsostrangethatittookmeyearstofullycomprehend.Itwasenvythatnailedtheimagetomymind.IenviedAnandasheturnedandwalkedwithhisbackstraightandhisheadhighintothelong,sufferingyears.Ienviedhispeaceandhiscourageandhisperfectunderstandingofhimself.Khaderbhaioncesaidthatifweenvysomeoneforalltherightreasons,we’rehalfwaytowisdom.Ihopehewasn’trightaboutthat.Ihopegoodenvytakesyoufurtherthanthat,becausealifetimehaspassedsincethatdayatthewire,andIstillenvyAnand’scalmcommunionwithfate,andIlongforitwithallmyflawedandstrivingheart.
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CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
EyescurvedliketheswordofPerseus,likethewingsofhawksinflight,liketherolledlipsofseashells,likeeucalyptusleavesinsummer-Indianeyes,dancers’eyes,themostbeautifuleyesintheworldstaredwithhonest,unbeguilingconcentrationintomirrorsheldforthembytheirservants.ThedancersI’dhiredtoperformattheweddingceremoniesforJohnnyandPrabakerwerealreadyincostumebeneaththemodestcoveringoftheirshawls.
Inachaishopneartheentrancetotheslum,emptiedofcustomersforthepurpose,theymadethefinaladjustmentstotheirhairandmake-up,professionallyswiftamidexcitedchattering.Acottonsheetstrungacrossthedoorwaywasjustsheerenoughinthegoldenlamplighttorevealthrillinglyindistinctshadows,inflamingfiercedesiresinmanyofthosewhocrowdedoutside,whereIstoodguardandkeptthecuriousatbay.
Atlasttheywereready,andIthrewthecottonscreenback.ThetendancersfromFilmCity’schoruslinesemerged.Theyworetraditionaltightcholiblousesandwrap-aroundsaris.Thecostumeswerelemonyellow,ruby,peacockblue,emerald,sunsetpink,gold,royalpurple,silver,cream,andtangerine.Theirjewels-hairclusters,plaittassels,earrings,noserings,necklaces,midriffchains,bangles,andanklets-strucksuchsparksoflightfromlanternsandelectricbulbsthatpeopleblinkedandflinchedtolookatthem.Eachheavyankletcarriedhundredsoftinybellsand,asthedancersbegantheirslow,swayingwalkthroughthehushedandadoringslum,thesizzlingclashofthosesilverbellswastheonlysoundthatmarkedtheirsteps.Thentheybegantosing:
AajaSajan,AajaAajaSajan,AajaCometome,mylover,cometomeCometome,mylover,cometomeThecrowdsthatprecededandsurroundedthemroaredtheirapproval.Aplatoonofsmallboysscrambledalongtheroughpathaheadofthegirls,removingstonesortwigs,andsweepingthewayclearwithpalm-leafbrooms.Otheryoungmenwalkedbesidethedancers,coolingthemwithlargepear-shapedfansoffine,wovencane.Furtheraheadalongthepath,thebandofmusiciansI’dhiredwiththedancersapproachedtheweddingstagesilentlyintheirredandwhiteuniforms.PrabakerandParvatisattooneside,andJohnnyCigarsatwithSitaontheotherside.
Prabaker’sparents,KishanandRukhmabai,hadtravelledfromSunderfortheevent.Theyplannedtospendafullmonthinthecity,stayinginaslumhutbesidePrabaker’sown.TheysatatthefrontofthestagewithKumarandNanditaPatak.Ahugepaintingofalotusflowerfilledthespacebehindthem,andcolouredlightsformedglowingvinesoverhead.
Whenthedancersslowlyenteredthespace,singinglove,theystoppedasoneandstampedtheirfeet.Theytwirledinplace,turningclockwiseinperfectunison.Theirarmsmovedwiththegraceofaswan’sneck.Theirhandsandfingersrolledandswirledlikesilkscarvessailingthewind.Thensuddenlytheystampedtheirfeetthreetimes,andthemusiciansstruckupawild,enravishingrenditionofthatmonth’smostpopularmoviesong.Andwiththecheeringineverythroataroundthem,thegirlsdancedintoamilliondreams.
Notafewofthosedreamsweremyown.I’dhiredthegirlsandthemusicians,notknowingwhatkindofshowthey’dplannedtoputonforPrabaker’swedding.ChandraMehtahadrecommendedthemtome,andhe’dassuredmethattheyalwaysdevisedtheirownprogram.Thatfirstblack-marketmoneydealMehtahadaskedmetotransact-thetenthousandAmericandollarshe’dwanted-hadborneblackfruit.ThroughhimI’dmetothersinthefilmworldwhowantedgold,dollars,anddocuments.Inthepreviousfewmonths,myvisitstothefilmstudioshadgrownmorefrequent,andtheprofitforKhaderbhaiaccumulatedsteadily.Therewasacertainreciprocalcachetintheconnection:thefilmitypes,astheywereknowninBollywood,founditexhilaratingtobeassociated,atasafedistance,withthenotoriousmafiadon,andtheKhanhimselfwasn’tindifferenttotheglamourthatlaminatedthemovieworld.WhenIapproachedChandraMehtaforhelpinorganisingthedancers,twoweeksbeforePrabaker’swedding,he’dassumedthatthePrabakerinquestionwasanimportantgoondaworkingforKhaderbhai.Heputtimeandspecialcareintothearrangements,selectingeachgirlfrompersonalknowledgeofherskills,andteamingthemwithabandofthebeststudiomusicians.Theshow,whenwefinallysawit,would’vesatisfiedthemanageroftheraunchiestnightclubinthecity.Thebandplayedalongtoptenoftheseason’smostpopularsongs.Thegirlssanganddancedtoeveryoneofthem,givingseductiveanderoticemphasistothesub-textofeachphrase.Someofthethousandsofneighboursandguestsattheslumweddingwerepleasantlyscandalised,butmostweredelightedbythewickedness-PrabakerandJohnnyfirstamongthem.AndI,seeingforthefirsttimehowlubricioustheuncensoredversionsofthedanceswere,gainedanewappreciationofthesubtlergesturesI’dseensooftenintheHindifilms.
IgaveJohnnyCigarfivethousandAmericandollarsasaweddingpresent.ItwasenoughmoneyforhimtobuythelittlehutthathewantedintheNavyNagarslum,nearthespotwherehe’dbeenconceived.TheNagarwasalegalslum,andpurchasingthehuttheremeanttheendofevictionfears.Hewouldhaveasecurehomefromwhichtocontinuehisworkasunofficialaccountantandtaxconsultanttothemanyhundredsofworkersandsmallbusinessesinthesurroundingslums.
MypresenttoPrabakerwasthedeedtohistaxi.Theownerofthesmallfleetoftaxissoldthedeedtomeinaviciousboutofbaretooth-and-knucklehaggling.Ipaidtoomuchforthevehicleanditslicence,butthemoneymeantnothingtome.Itwasblackmoney,andblackmoneyrunsthroughthefingersfasterthanlegal,hard-earnedmoney.Ifwecan’trespectthewayweearnit,moneyhasnovalue.Ifwecan’tuseittomakelifebetterforourfamiliesandlovedones,moneyhasnopurpose.Nevertheless,outofrespectfortheformalitiesoftradition,Idamnedthetaxifleetowner,attheconclusionofourdeal,withthatmostpoliteandhideousofIndianbusinesscurses-__Mayyouhavetendaughters,andmaytheyallmarry_welll!-astringofdowrycommitmentssuretoexhaustallbutthesturdiestfortunes.
Prabakerwassopleasedandexcitedwiththegiftthatthegravityhe’dassumedintheroleofthesobergroomexplodedinawhoopingcheer.Heleapttohisfeetanddancedafewpumpsofhiship-thrustingsexydancebeforethesolemnityoftheoccasionoverwhelmedhimoncemore,andhesatdownwithhisbride.Ijoinedthethick,gyratingjungleofmeninfrontofthestage,anddanceduntilmythinshirtclungtomelikeseaweedinashallowwave.
Returningtomyapartmentthatnight,IsmiledtothinkhowdifferentVikram’sweddinghadbeen.TwodaysbeforePrabakerandJohnnywedtheirsister-brides,VikramwasmarriedtoLettie.
Againstthepassionateandoccasionallyviolentoppositionofhisfamily,Vikramhadoptedforaregistryofficeceremony.He’drespondedtothetearsandpleadingofhislovedoneswithoneformulaicphrase:ThisisthemodernIndia,yaar.Fewofhisfamilymemberscouldbringthemselvestofacetheagonyofthatpublicrepudiationoftheancient,gorgeouslyelaborateHinduweddingthey’dlongplannedforhim.Intheend,itwasonlyhissisterandhismotherwhojoinedthelittlecircleofLettie’sfriends,andwatchedasthebrideandgroompromisedtoloveandhonouroneanotherfortherestoftheirdays.Therewasnomusic,nocolour,andnodancing.Lettieworeaburnt-goldsuit,withabroad,goldstrawhatbearingorgandieroses.Vikramworeathree-quarter-lengthblackcoat,ablack-and-whitebrocadevest,blackgauchopantswithsilverpiping,andhisbelovedhat.
TheceremonywasoverinminutesandthenVikramandIhalfcarriedhisgrief-strickenmothertoherwaitingcar.
Onthedayaftertheirwedding,IdroveVikramandLettietotheairport.TheirplanwastorepeattheceremonyinLondonwithLettie’sfamily.WhileLettiephonedhermothertoconfirmtheirarrivaltime,Vikramseizedtheopportunityforaheart-to-heartwithme.
“Thanksfortheworkyoudidonmypassport,man,”hegrinned.
“Thatfuckin’drugconvictioninDenmark-it’sonlyalittlething,butitcould’vegivenmeabigheadache,yaar.”
“Noproblem.”
“Andthedollars.Thatwasafuckin’goodrateyougotforus.Iknowyoudidaspecialdealonthat,yaar,andI’llreturnthefavour,somehow,whenwegetback.”
“It’scool.”
“Youknow,Lin,youreallyoughttosettledown,man.Idon’tmeantojinxupyoursceneoranything.I’monlysayingitasafriend,asafriendwholovesyoulikeabrother.You’reheadingforabigfall,man.Igotabadfeeling.I…Ithinkyoushouldsettledown,like.”“Settledown…”
“Yeah,man.That’sthewholepointofit,yaar.”
“Thewholepointof…what?”
“That’swhatthewholefuckin’gameisallabout.You’reaman.
That’swhatamanhastodo.Idon’tmeantogetintoyourpersonalshit,butit’skindofsadthatyoudon’tknowthatalready.”
Ilaughed,butheheldtheseriousfrown.
“Lin,amanhastofindagoodwoman,andwhenhefindsherhehastowinherlove.Thenhehastoearnherrespect.Thenhehastocherishhertrust.Andthenhehasto,like,goondoingthatforaslongastheylive.Untiltheybothdie.That’swhatit’sallabout.That’sthemostimportantthingintheworld.That’swhatamanis,yaar.Amanistrulyamanwhenhewinstheloveofagoodwoman,earnsherrespect,andkeepshertrust.Untilyoucandothat,you’renotaman.”
“TellthattoDidier.”
“No,man,you’renotgettingit.It’sjustthesameforDidier,butwithhimit’sagoodguyhehastofindandlove.It’sthesameforallofus.WhatI’mtryingtotellyouisthatyoufoundagoodwoman.Youfoundheralready.Karlaisagoodwoman,man.
Andyouearnedherfuckin’respect.Shetoldmeacoupleoftimes,man-aboutthecholeraandallthatinthezhopadpatti.
YouknockedheroutwithallthatRedCrossshit,man.Sherespectsyou!Butyoudon’tcherishhertrust.Youdon’ttrusther,Lin,becauseyoudon’ttrustyourself.AndI’mafraidforyou,man.Withoutagoodwoman,amanlikeyou-menlikeyouandme-we’rejustaskingfortrouble,yaar.”
Lettieapproachedus.Thegrimpurposedimmedinhiseyes,washedawaybythelookofloveheturnedonher.
“They’recallingourflight,Lin,medarlin’,”shesaid.HersmilewassadderthanI’dexpected,andwounding,somehow,becauseofit.“Webettergo.Here,Iwantyoutohavethis,asapresentfrombothofus.”
Shehandedmeafoldedstripofblackcloth,aboutametrelongandahand-spanwide.WhenIopeneditoutIfoundasmallcardinthecentre.
“It’stheblindfold,”shesaid.“Youknow,fromthetrain,ontheroof,thedayVikramproposed.Wewantyoutohaveit-asasouvenir,youknow.Andonthecard,that’sKarla’saddress.Shewrotetous.She’sstillinGoa,butinadifferentpart.Just,youknow,ifyou’reinterested.Goodbye,darlin’.Takecare.”Iwatchedthemleave,happyforthem,buttoobusywithKhader’sworkandthepreparationsforPrabaker’sweddingtogivemuchthoughttoVikram’sadvice.ThenthevisittoAnand,thelastvisit,hadpushedVikram’svoiceevendeeperintothechoirofcompetingspeeches,warnings,andopinions.ButasIsataloneinmyapartmentonthenightofPrabaker’swedding,andtookthenoteandtheblackstripoftheblindfoldfrommypocket,Irememberedeverywordhe’dsaidtome.IsippedatadrinkandsmokedcigarettesinasilencesoprofoundthatIcouldhearthesusurrusoftheblindfold’ssoftfabricrustleandslipbetweenmyfingers.Theseductive,bell-bejewelleddancershadbeenescortedtotheirbus,andpaidarespectfulbonus.PrabakerandJohnnyhadledtheirbridesawaytotaxisthatwaitedtotakethemtoasimplebutcomfortablehotelontheoutskirtsofthecity.Fortwonightstheywouldknowthejoysofprivatelovebeforetheirpubliclovesinthecrowdedslumsresumed.VikramandLettiewerealreadyinLondon,preparingtorepeatthevowsthatmeanteverythingtomycowboy-obsessedfriend.AndIwassittinginthearmchair,fullydressedandalone,nottrustingher,asVikramsaid,becauseIdidn’ttrustmyself.Thenatlast,whenIdriftedtosleep,thenoteandthestripofblindfoldslippedfrommyfingers.
Andforthreeweeks,afterthatnight,ItriedtolosethelonelinessthattheirthreehappymarriageshadpulledfrommyheartbytakingeveryjobIwasoffered,andcuttingeverydealIcoulddevise.IflewonepassportruntoKinshasastaying,asinstructed,attheLapierreHotel.ItwasanearlysqualidthreestoreybuildinginalanewayparalleltoKinshasa’slongmainstreet.Themattresswasclean,butthefloorandthewallsseemedtobemadefromrecycledcoffin-wood.Thegrave-likesmellwasoverpowering,andasweatingdampfilledmymouthwithgloomy,unidentifiabletastes.Ichain-smokedGitanesandgargledBelgianwhiskytokillthem.Rat-catcherspatrolledthecorridors,draggingconspicuoushessiansacksthatbulgedwithwrithing,fatanimals.Cockroachcolonieshadclaimedthedrawersofthedresser,soIhungmyclothingandtoiletriesandotherpersonalitemsfromhooksandthick,crookednailsconvenientlyhammeredintoeverysurfacethatwouldendurethem.
OnmyfirstnightIwasrippedfromalightsleepbygunshotsinthecorridorbeyondmydoor.Iheardacrumplingthump,asofabodyfalling,andthenshufflingfootstepspullingsomethingheavy,backwards,alongthebarewoodenfloorofthehallway.Iclampedafistaroundmyknifeandopenedthedoor.Menwerestandingatthreeotherdoorsinthecorridor,drawnasIwasbythesounds.TheywereallEuropeans.Twoofthemheldpistolsintheirhands,andoneheldaknifesimilartomyown.Wealllookedatoneanother,andthenatthetrailofbloodthatsmeareditswaydownthecorridoroutofsight.Asifinresponsetoasecretsignal,weallclosedourdoorsagainwithoutaword.
WhenIfollowedtheKinshasarunwithamissiontoMauritius,myhotelontheisland-nationprovidedawelcomeandagreeablecontrast.ItwascalledtheMandarin,anditwasinCurepipe.Theoriginalstructurewasbuiltasasmall-scalereproductionofaScottishcastle.Theturretedresemblancewasclearenough,onthewindingapproachthroughaneatEnglishgarden.Insidethebuilding,however,theguestenteredakingdomofChinesebaroquedesignedbytheChinesefamilywhowerethenewownersofthehotel.Isatbeneathhuge,fire-breathingdragonsandateChinesebroccoliwithsnowpeas,garlicspinach,friedbeancurd,andmushroomsinblackbeansaucebythelightofpaperlanterns,whilethewindowsgaveaviewofcastellatedbattlements,gothicarches,androse-studdedtopiary.
Mycontacts,twoIndiansfromBombaywholivedinMauritius,arrivedinayellowBMWashadbeenarranged.Igotintothebackofthecarandhadbarelyspokenagreetingwhentheytookoffatsuchtyre-torchingspeedthatIwashurledbackwardsintoacorneroftheseat.Wescreamedalongbackroadsatfourtimesthespeedlimitforfifteenknuckle-whiteningminutesandthentheypulledintoasilent,desertedgrove.Theoverheatedcarcooleddownwithlittleclinksandclunksofsound.Therewasastrongsmellofrumonbothmen.
“Okay,let’shavethebooks,”oneofthetwocontactssaid,leaningaroundfromthedriver’sseat.
“Ihaven’tgotthem,”Isnarledathimthroughclenchedteeth.
Thecontactslookedatoneanotherandthenbackatme.Thedriverraisedhismercury-lensglasses,revealingeyesthatlookedasthoughhekepttheminaglassofbrownvinegarbesidehisbedatnight.
“Youdon’tgotthebooks?”
“No.Iwastryingtotellyouthatonthewayhere-whereverthefuckweare-butyoukeptsaying,Keepcool!Keepcool!Andnotlisteningtome.Well,arewecoolenoughnow?Huh?”
“I’mnotcool,man,”thepassengersaid.Isawmyselfinthelensesofhisglasses.Ididn’tlookhappy.
“Youidiots!”Igrowled,switchingtoHindi.“Younearlykilledusallfornothing!Drivinglikeaspeed-freak-arsehole-Bombaytaxi-driverwiththecopsuphisarse!Thepassportsarebackatthesister-fuckinghotel.IstashedthembecauseIwantedtobesureofyoutwomotherfuckersfirst.NowtheonlythingI’msureofisthatyouguyshaven’tgotthebrainsoftwofleasonapariahdog’sballs.”
Thepassengerliftedhisglasses,andtheybothsmiledaswidelyastheirhangoverswouldallow.
“WherethefuckdidyoulearntospeakHindilikethat?”thedriverasked.“It’sfuckin’great,yaar.You’respeakinglikearegularBombaysister-fucker.It’sfantastic,yaar!”
“Damnimpressive,man!”hisfriendadded,wagginghisheadadmiringly.
“Letmeseethemoney,”Isnapped.
Theylaughed.
“Themoney,”Iinsisted.“Letmeseeit.”
Thepassengerliftedabagfrombetweenhisfeetandopenedittorevealmanybundlesofcash.
“What’sthatshit?”
“It’sthemoney,brother,”thedriverreplied.
“That’snotmoney,”Isaid.“Moneyisgreen.Moneysays,InGodWeTrust.MoneyhasthepictureofadeadAmericanonitbecausemoneycomesfromAmerica.That’snotmoney.”
“It’sMauritianrupees,brother,”thepassengersniffed,woundedbytheinsulttohiscurrency.
“Youcan’tspendthatshitanywherebutinMauritius,”Iscoffed,recallingwhatI’dlearnedaboutrestrictedandopencurrencieswhileworkingwithKhaledAnsari.“It’sarestrictedcurrency.”
“Iknow,ofcourse,baba,”thedriversmiled.“WearrangeditwithAbdul.Wedon’thavethedollarsjustnow,man.Allfuckin’tiedupinotherdeals.Sowe’repayinginMauritianrupees.Youcanchangethembacktodollarsonyourwayhome,yaar.”
Isighed,breathingslowlyandforcingcalmintothelittlewhirlwindthatmymoodwasmakingoutofmymind.Ilookedoutthewindow.Wewereparkedinwhatseemedtobeagreenforestfire.TallplantsasgreenasKarla’seyeswhirledandshudderedinthewindallaroundus.Therewasno-oneandnothingelseinsight.“Let’sjustseewhatwegothere.Tenpassportsatseventhousandbucksapiece.That’sseventythousandbucks.Attheexchangerateof,say,thirtyMauritianroopstothedollar,thatgivesmenolessthantwomillion,onehundredthousandrupees.That’swhyyougotsuchabigbag.Now,forgivemeforseemingobtuse,gentlemen,butjustwherethefuckamIgoingtochangetwomillionrupeesintodollarswithoutafuckin’currencycertificate?”
“Noproblem,”thedriverrespondedquickly.“We’vegotamoneychanger,yaar.Afirst-classguy.He’lldothedealforyou.
It’sallsetup.”
“Okay,”Ismiled.“Let’sgoandseehim.”
“You’llhavetogotherealone,man,”thepassengersaid,laughinghappily.“He’sinSingapore.”
“Singa-fkckin’-pore!”Ishouted,asthatlittlewhirlwindflaredinmymind.
“Don’tbeallupset,yaar,”thedriverrepliedgently.“It’sallarranged.AbdulGhaniiscoolaboutit.He’llcallyouatthehoteltoday.Here,takethiscard.YougotoSingapore,onyourwayhome-okay,okay,SingaporeisnotexactlyonthewayhometoBombay,butifyouflytherefirst,thenitwillbeontheway,isn’tit?SowhenyougetdowninSingapore,yougoandseethisguyonthecard.He’salicensedmoneychanger.He’sKhader’sman.
He’llchangealltheroopsintodollars,andyou’llbecool.Noproblem.There’sevenabonusinitforyou.You’llsee.”
“Okay,”Isighed.“Let’sgobacktothehotel.IfthischecksoutwithAbdul,we’lldothedeal.”
“Thehotel,”thedriversaid,slidinghisglassesdownoverthedartboardsofhiseyes.
“Thehotel!”thepassengerrepeated,andtheyellowExocethurtledbackalongthewindingroadsoncemore.
ThetripthroughSingaporepassedoffwithoutahitch,andtheMauritiancurrencyfiascoprovidedafewunexpectedbenefits.Imadeavaluable,newcontactintheSingaporemoneychanger-anIndianfromMadrasnamedShekkyRatnam-andItookmyfirstlookattheprofitablesmugglingrunofdutyfreecamerasandelectricalgoodsfromSingaporetoBombay.
WhenIrodeouttotheOberoiHoteltomeetLisaCarter,afterhandingthedollarstoAbdulGhaniandcollectingmyfee,Ifeltpositiveandhopefulforthefirsttimeinfartoolong.IbegantothinkthatImight’vethrownoffthedarkmoodsthathadsettledonmeafterPrabaker’sweddingnight.I’dtravelledtoZaire,Mauritius,andSingaporeonforgedpassportswithoutraisingthevaguestsuspicion.Intheslum,I’dsurvivedfromdaytodayonthesmallcommissionsImadefromtourists,andIhadonlymycompromisedNewZealandpassport.JustayearlaterIlivedinamodernapartment,mypocketswerebulgingwithfreshlyill-gottengains,andIhadfivepassportsinfivedifferentnamesandnationalities,withmyphotographoneveryoneofthem.Theworldofpossibilitywasopeningupforme.
TheOberoiHotelstoodatNarimanPoint,onthehandleofMarineDrive’sgoldensickle.ChurchgateStationandFloraFountainwereafive-minutewalkaway.TenminutesmoreinonedirectionledtoVictoriaTerminusandCrawfordMarket.TenminutesintheotherdirectionfromFloraFountainledtoColabaandtheGatewayMonument.TheOberoilackedthepostcardrecognitionthattheTajHotelinspired,butitcompensatedforthatwithcharacterandflair.Itspianobar,forexample,wasasmallmasterpieceoflightandcleverlyprivatespaces,anditsbrasserievieddeterminedlyforthetitleofthebestrestaurantinBombay.
Walkingintothedark,richlytexturedbrasseriefromthebrilliantday,IpausedandblinkeduntilmyeyesfoundLisaandhergroup.SheandtwootheryoungwomenweresittingwithCliffDeSouzaandChandraMehta.
“HopeI’mnotlate,”Isaid,shakinghandsallround.
“No,Ithink_we’reallearly,”ChandraMehtajoked,hisvoiceboomingoutacrosstheroom.
Thegirlslaughedhysterically.TheirnameswereReetaandGeeta.
Theywereaspiringactressesonthefirstrung-alunchdatewithkeysecond-tierplayers-andtheygusheditupwithabug-eyedenthusiasmthatwasn’tfarfrompanic.
IsatdowninthevacantchairbetweenLisaandGeeta.Lisaworeathin,lava-redpulloverbeneathablacksilkjacket,andaskirt.Geeta’ssilverspandextopandwhitejeansweretightenoughtobeanatomicallyexplicit.Shewasaprettygirl,maybetwentyyearsold,withherlonghairpulledintoahighponytail.
Herhandsfrettedatthetablenapkin,foldingandunfoldingacornerofthecloth.Reetahadaneatshorthairstylethatsuitedhersmallfaceandgaminefeatures.Sheworeayellowblousewithadeep,confrontationneckline,andbluejeans.CliffandChandrabothworesuits,anditseemedthattheywerecomingfromorgoingtoanappointmentofsomesignificance.“I’mstarved,”Lisasaidhappily.Hervoicewaslightandconfident,butshesqueezedmyhandunderthetablesohardthatherfingernailspinchedtheirwayintomyskin.Itwasanimportantmeetingforher.SheknewthatMehtaplannedtoofferusaformalpartnershipinthecastingbusinesswe’dbeenrunningunofficially.Lisawantedthatcontractualagreement.Shewantedtheapprovalthatonlyacontractcouldprovide.Shewantedherfutureinwriting.“Let’seat!”
“Howabout-whatdoyouallthink-ifImaketheorderforallofus?”Chandrasuggested.
“Sinceyou’repayingforit,Idon’tmind,”Cliffsaid,laughingandwinkingatthegirls.
“Sure,”Iagreed.“Goahead.”
Hesummonedthewaiterwithaglanceandwavedthemenuaside,launchingstraightintohislistofpreferences.Itbeganwithawhitesoupentreemadewithlambcookedinblanched-almondmilk,workeditswaythroughgrilledchickeninacayenne,cumin,andmangomarinade,andended,aftermanyothersideplatters,withfruitsalad,honeykachoriballs,andkulfiicecream.
ListeningtoMehta’slengthyandpreciselistofdishes,weallknewthatitwouldbealonglunch.Irelaxed,andletmyselfdriftintheflowoffinefoodsandconversation.
“So,youstillhaven’ttoldmewhatyouthink,”Mehtaprodded.
“You’regivingitmoreattentionthanit’sworth,”CliffDeSouzadeclared,flutteringahanddismissively.
“No,man,”Mehtainsisted.“Ithappenedrightoutsidemydamnoffice,yaar.Iftenthousandpeopleareshoutingaboutkillingyou,outsideyourowndamnofficewindow,it’shardnottogiveitsomeattention.”
“Theyweren’tshoutingaboutyoupersonally,Chandrababu.”
“Notmepersonally.Butit’sme,andeveryonelikeme,theywanttoget.Comeon,it’snotsobadforyou,andyoushouldadmitit.YourfamilyisfromGoa.You’reKonkanispeakers.KonkaniandMarathiareveryclose.YouspeakMarathiaswellasyouspeakEnglish.ButIdon’tspeakadamnwordofit.StillI’mbornhere,yaar,andmydaddywasbornherebeforeme.HehashisbusinesshereinBombay.Wepaytaxeshere.Mykidsallgotoschoolhere.MywholelifeishereinBombay,man.Butthey’reshoutingMaharashtrafortheMarathis,andtheywanttokickusoutoftheonlyhomewehave.”“Youhavetoseeitfromtheirpointofviewaswell,”Cliffaddedsoftly.
“Seemyevictionfromtheirpointofview,”Mehtaretorted,withsuchvehemencethatseveralheadsturnedtowardhimfromothertables.Hecontinuedmorequietlybutwithjustasmuchpassion.
“Ishouldseemymurderfromtheirpointofview,isthatit?”
“Iloveyou,myfriend,likeIlovemyownthirdbrother-in-law,”
Cliffreplied,grinningwidely.Mehtalaughedwithhimandthegirlsjoinedin,clearlyrelievedtohavethetensionatthetabledilutedwiththelittlejoke.“Idon’twanttoseeanyonehurt,leastofallyou,Chandrabhai.AllI’msayingis,youhavetoseeitfromtheirsideifyouwanttounderstandwhythey’refeelingallthis.They’renativeMarathispeakers.They’rebornhereinMaharashtra.Theirgrandfathers,allthewaybackto…whoknows,threethousandyearsormore,theywereallbornhere.
AndthentheylookaroundinBombay,andtheyseeallthebestjobs,allthebusinesses,allthecompaniesownedbypeoplefromotherplacesinIndia.Itdrivesthemcrazy.AndIthinktheyhaveapoint.”
“Whataboutthereservejobs?”Mehtaprotested.“Thepostoffice,thepolice,theschools,thestatebank,andlotsofothers,likethetransportauthority,theyallreservejobsforMarathispeakers.Butthat’snotenoughforthesecrazyfuckers.TheywanttokickusalloutofBombayandMaharashtra.ButItellyou,iftheygettheirway,iftheykickusout,they’lllosemostofthemoneyandthetalentandthebrainsthatmakethisplacewhatitis.”
CliffDeSouzashrugged.
“Maybethat’sapricethey’repreparedtopay-notthatIagreewiththem.Ijustthinkthatpeoplelikeyourgrand-dad,whocameherefromU.P.withnothing,andbuiltasuccessfulbusiness,owesomethingtothestate.Theoneswhohaveitallhavetosharesomeofitwiththeoneswhohavenothing.Thepeopleyoucallfanaticscanonlygetotherstolistenbecausethere’sagrainoftruthinwhattheysay.Peopleareangry.Theoneswhocameherefromoutsideandmadetheirfortunesaregettingtheblame.It’sgoingtogetworse,mydearthirdbrother-in-law,andIhatetothinkwhereit’sgoingtoend.”
“Whatdoyouthink,Lin?”ChandraMehtaaskedme,appealingforsupport.“YouspeakMarathi.Youlivehere.Butyou’reanoutsider.Whatdoyouthink?”
“IlearnedtospeakMarathiinalittlevillagecalledSunder,”Isaidinanswer.“ThepeopletherearenativeMarathispeakers.Theydon’tspeakHindiwell,andtheydon’tspeakEnglishatall.They’repure,shudhaMarathispeakers,andMaharashtrahasbeentheirhomeforatleasttwothousandyears.Fiftygenerationshavefarmedthelandthere.”
IpausedtogivesomeoneelseachancetocommentorquerywhatI’dsaid.Theywerealleating,andlisteningintently.Icontinued.
“WhenIcamebacktoBombaywithmyguide,Prabaker,Iwenttoliveintheslum,whereheandtwenty-fivethousandotherpeoplelive.TherewerealotofpeoplelikePrabakerthereinthatslum.TheywereMaharashtrians,fromvillagesjustlikeSunder.
Theylivedinthekindofpovertywhereeverymealcostthemacrownofthornsinworry,andslavingwork.IthinkitmustbreaktheirheartstoseepeoplefromotherpartsofIndialivinginfinehomeswhiletheywashintheguttersoftheirowncapitalcity.”
Itookafewmouthfulsoffood,waitingforaresponsefromMehta.Afterafewmoments,heobliged.
“But,hey,Lin,comeon,that’snotallofit,”hesaid.“There’salotmoretoitthanthat.”
“No,you’reright.That’snotallofit,”Iagreed.“They’renotjustMaharashtriansinthatslum.They’rePunjabisandTamilsandKarnatakansandBengalisandAssameseandKashmiris.Andthey’renotjustHindus.They’reSikhsandMuslimsandChristiansandBuddhistsandParsisandJains.TheproblemsherearenotjustMaharashtrianproblems.Thepoor,liketherich,arefromeverypartofIndia.Butthepoorarefartoomany,andthericharefartoofew.”
“Arreybaap!”ChandraMehtapuffed.Holyfather!“YousoundlikeCliff.He’safuckin’communist.That’soneofhisraves,yaar.”
“I’mnotacommunist,oracapitalist,”Isaid,smiling.“I’mmoreofaleave-me-the-hell-alone-ist.”
“Don’tbelievehim,”Lisainterjected.“Whenyou’reintrouble,he’stherightmantocall.”
Ilookedather.Oureyesheldjustlongenoughtofeelgoodandguiltyatthesametime.
“Fanaticismistheoppositeoflove,”Isaid,recallingoneofKhaderbhai’slectures.“Awisemanoncetoldme-he’saMuslim,bytheway-thathehasmoreincommonwitharational,reasonable-mindedJewthanhedoeswithafanaticfromhisownreligion.Hehasmoreincommonwitharational,reasonable-mindedChristianorBuddhistorHinduthanhedoeswithafanaticfromhisownreligion.Infact,hehasmoreincommonwitharational,reasonable-mindedatheistthanhedoeswithafanaticfromhisownreligion.Iagreewithhim,andIfeelthesameway.IalsoagreewithWinstonChurchill,whooncedefinedafanaticassomeonewhowon’tchangehismindandcan’tchangethesubject.”
“Andonthatnote,”Lisalaughed,“let’schangethesubject.Comeon,Cliff,I’mrelyingonyoutogivemeallthegossipabouttheromanceonthesetofKanoon.What’sreallygoingonthere?”
“Yes!Yes!”Reetacriedoutexcitedly.“Andallaboutthenewgirl.There’ssomuchofscandalaboutherthatIcan’tevensayhernameoutloud,yaar.Andeverything,anythingatallaboutAnilKapoor!Ijustlovehimtopieces!”
“AndSanjayDutt!”Geetaadded,tremblingdramaticallyatthementionofhisname.“IsittruethatyouactuallywenttohispartyinVersova?Oh,myGod!HowIwouldlovetobethere!Tellusallaboutit!”
Encouragedbythatfebrilecuriosity,CliffDeSouzaspunoutyarnsabouttheBollywoodstars,andChandraMehtaaddedtitillatingrufflesofgossipthroughout.ItbecameclearduringthelunchthatCliffhadaneyeforReeta,andChandraMehtadirectedmuchofhisattentiontoGeeta.Thelonglunchwasthebeginningofalongdayandnightthey’dplannedtospendtogether.Warmingtotheirthemes,andwithhalftheirmindsonthepleasuresofthenighttocome,themoviemengraduallyshiftedtheirgossipandanecdotesintotheareaofsexandsexualscandals.Theywerefunnystories,sometimesstrayingintothebizarre.WewerealllaughinghardwhenKavitaSinghenteredtherestaurant.ThelaughterwasstillripplingthroughusasIintroducedKavitaaroundthetable.
“Excuseme,”shesaid,withthekindoffrownthatclimbsoutofdeeptroubleandrefusestoleave.“Ihavetospeaktoyou,Lin.”
“Youcantalkaboutthecasehere,Kavita,”Ioffered,stillbrightwiththelaughterofaminutebefore.“They’llfinditinteresting.”
“It’snotaboutthecase,”sheinsistedfirmly.“It’saboutAbdullahTaheri.”
Istoodatonceandexcusedmyself,noddingtoLisathatsheshouldstayandwaitformetoreturn.KavitaandIwalkedtothefoyeroftherestaurant.Whenwewerealone,shespoke.
“YourfriendTaheriisindeepshit.”“Whatdoyoumean?”
“ImeanthatIheardawhisperfromthecrimestafferattheTimes.HesaidthatAbdullahisonapolicehitlist.Shootonsight,hesaid.”
“What?”
“Thecops’ordersaretotakehimalive,iftheycan,buttotakenochanceswithhim.They’resurehe’sarmed,andthey’resurehe’llshoot,iftheytrytoarresthim.Attheslightesthesitationfromhim,they’reorderedtoshoothimdownlikeadog.”
“Why?What’sitallabout?”
“Theythinkhe’sthisSapnaguy.They’vehadasolidtip-off,withsolidevidence.They’resureit’shim,andthey’regoingtogethim.Today.Itmighthavehappenedalready.Youcan’tfuckwiththecopsinBombay-notwithsomethingthisserious.I’vebeenlookingforyoufortwohours.”
“Sapna?Itdoesn’tmakesense,”Isaid.Butitdidmakesense.Itmadeperfectsense,somehow,andIcouldn’tunderstandwhy.Thereweretoomanypiecesmissing;toomanyquestionsthatIhadn’tasked,andshould’veasked,longbefore.
“Sensibleornot,it’snowareality,”shesaid,hervoicetremblingintheshudderofaresignedandpityingshrug.“I’vebeenlookingforyoueverywhere.Didiertoldmeyouwerehere.IknowTaheri’sagoodfriendofyours.”
“Yeah.He’safriend,”Isaid,suddenlyrememberingthatIwastalkingtoajournalist.Istaredatthedarkcarpet,andtriedtofindsenseordirectioninthesandstormofmythoughts.ThenIlookedupandmethereyes.“Thanks,Kavita.Ireallyappreciateit.Thanksalot.I’llhavetogo.”
“Listen,”shesaidmoresoftly.“Ifiledthestory.IphoneditinassoonasIheardit.Ifitmakestheeveningnews,itmightmakethecopsalittlemorecareful.Fortherecord,Idon’tthinkhedidit.Ican’tbelieveit.Ialwayslikedhim.Ihadalittlecrushonhimforawhile,rightafteryoubroughthimtoLeopold’sthefirsttime.MaybeI’vestillgotacrushonhim,yaar.Anyway,Idon’tthinkhe’sSapna,andIdon’tthinkhedidthose…terriblethings.”
Sheleft,smilingformeandcryingforhimatthesametime.Atthetable,Iapologisedforbreakingupthelunchandofferedavagueexcuseforleaving.Withoutaskingherifshewantedtocome,IpulledbackLisa’schairforherandliftedherhandbagfromthechair’shighback.
“Oh,Lin,doyoureallyhavetogo?”Chandracomplained.“Wehaven’teventalkedaboutthecasting-agencydeal.”
“DoyoureallyknowAbdullahTaheri?”Cliffasked,thefaintesthintofaccusationinhiscuriosity.
Iglaredathim.
“Yes.”
“Andyou’retakingthelovelyLisawithyou,”Chandrapouted.
“That’sadoubledisappointment.”
“I’veheardsomuchabouthim,yaar,”Cliffpersisted.“Howdidyoumeethim?”
“Hesavedmylife,Cliff,”Isaid,alittlemoreharshlythanI’dintended.“ThefirsttimeImethim,hesavedmylife,atthehashdenrunbytheStandingBabas.”
IheldopenthedoorofthebrasserieforLisa,andlookedbackatthetable.CliffandChandrahadtheirheadsclosetogether,theirwhispersexcludingthebewilderedgirls.
Onthebike,outsidethehotel,ItoldLisaeverythingthatIknew.Herhealthytanfadedsuddenlyandherfacewaspale,butshepulledherselftogetherquickly.SheagreedwithmethatatriptoLeopold’swaslogical,asafirststep.Abdullahmightbethere,orhemight’veleftamessagewithsomeone.Shewasafraid,andIfeltthatfeartwistinginthemusclesofherarmsassheclungtomyback.Wehurtledthroughtheponderouslyslowtraffic,ridingonluckandinstinctjustasAbdullahmight’vedone.AtLeopold’swefoundDidierdrinkinghimselfintotheliquidabyss.
“It’sover,”heslurred,pouringhimselfanotherwhiskyfromalargebottle.“It’sallover.Theyshothimdeadalmostanhourago.Everyoneistalkingaboutit.ThemosquesinDongriarecallingtheprayersforthedead.”
“Howdoyouknow?”Idemanded.“Whotoldyou?”
“Theprayersforthedead,”hemumbled,hisheadlollingforward.
“Whataridiculousandredundantphrase!Therearenootherkindsofprayers.Everyprayerisaprayerforthedead.”
Igrabbedthefrontofhisshirtandshookhim.Thewaiters,whoalllikedDidierasmuchasIdid,watchedmeandcalculatedhowfartheywouldletmego.
“Didier!Listentome!Howdoyouknow?Whotoldyouaboutit?
Wheredidithappen?”
“Thepolicewerehere,”hesaid,suddenlylucid.Hispaleblueeyeslookedintomineasifhewaslookingforsomethingatthebottomofapond.“TheywereboastingaboutittoMehmet,oneoftheowners.
YouknowMehmet.He’salsoIranian,likeAbdullah.SomeofthepolicefromtheColabastation,acrosstheroad,wereintheambush.TheysaidthathewassurroundedinalittlestreetnearCrawfordMarket.Theycalledonhimtosurrenderhimselftothem.
Theysaidhestoodperfectlystill.Theysaidhislonghairwasstreamingbehindhiminthewind,andhisblackclothes.Theytalkedaboutthatforquitesometime.Itisstrange,don’tyouthink,Lin,thattheyweretalkingabouthisclothes…andhishair?Whatdoesitmean?Thenthey…theysaidhetooktwogunsfromhisjacket,andbegantoshootatthem.Theyallreturnedthefireatonce.Hewasshotsomanytimesthathisbodywasmutilated,theysaid.Itwastornapartbythefusillade.”
Lisabegantocry.ShesatdownnexttoDidier,andhewrappedanarmaroundherintheautomatismofgriefandshock.Hedidn’tlookatheroracknowledgeher.Hepattedathershoulderandrockedfromsidetoside,buthissorrow-struckexpressionwould’vebeenthesameifhewerealoneandwrappinghisarmsabouthimself.
“Therewasabigcrowd,”hecontinued.“Theywereveryupset.Thepolicewerenervous.Theywantedtotakehisbodytothehospitalinoneoftheirvans,butthepeopleinthecrowdattackedthevan,andforceditofftheroad.ThepolicetookthebodytotheCrawfordMarketpolicestation.Thecrowdfollowedthemthere,shoutingandscreamingabuse.Theyarestillthere,Ithink.”
CrawfordMarketpolicestation.Ihadtogothere.Ihadtoseethebody.Ihadtoseehim.Maybehewasalive…
“Waithere,”ItoldLisa.“WaitwithDidier,orgetacabhome.
I’llbeback.”
Aspearrammedintomyside,upbesidemyheart,andoutthroughthetopofmychest.ThespearofAbdullah’sdeath,thespearofthinkingabouthisdead,deadbody.IrodetoCrawfordMarket,andeverybreathpushedtheroughspearupagainstmyheart.
NearthemarketpolicestationIwasforcedtoabandonthebikebecauseamillingcrowdmobbedtheroad.Strikingoutonfoot,Isoonfoundmyselfinawild,aimlesslyramblingfrenzyofpeople.
MostofthemwereMuslims.WhatIcouldmakeoutfromthemanychantsandshoutedslogansindicatedthattheyweren’tsimplymourners.Abdullah’sdeathhadtouchedoffaprairiefireofdiscontentandlong-nursedgrievancesintheneglectedacresofthepooraroundthemarketarea.Menwereshoutingaconfusingcollectionofcomplaints,andclamouringfortheirowncauses.Icouldhearprayersringingoutfromseveralplaces.
Insidethelegionsofscreamingmenitwaschaos,andeverysteptowardthepolicestationwaswonwithawrestling,shovingeffortofforceandwill.Mencameinwavesthatsweptmesidewaysandthenforwardandthenback.Theypushedandpunchedandkickedoutwiththeirlegs.MorethanonceIalmostwentunderthosetramplingfeet,reachingoutatthelastmomenttosavemyselfbygrapplingmyfingersintoashirtorabeardorashawl.Ifinallycaughtsightofthepolicestationandthepolice.Wearinghelmetsandcarryingshields,theywerethreeorfourdeepacrossthewholewidthofthebuilding.
Amanbesidemeinthecrowdseizedmyshirtandbegantopunchmeabouttheheadandface.Ihadnoideawhyhe’dattackedme-maybehedidn’tunderstandithimself-butitdidn’tmatter.Theblowswerestruck,andIwasinit.Icoveredmyselfwithmyhandsandtriedtowrenchmyselffree.Hishandwaslockedontotheshirt,andIcouldn’tshakehimoff.Isteppedincloser,jabbedmyfingersintohiseyes,andcrashedmyfistintohisheadjustaheadoftheear.Hishandreleasedmeandhefellback,butothersbegantopunchatme.ThecrowdopenedoutaroundmeandIshapedup,punchingoutatrandomandhittinganythingwithinrange.
Itwasabadsituation.IknewthatsoonerorlaterIwouldlosetheenergyandthesurprisethatkepttheposseofmenatbay.
Menrushedatme,butonlyoneatatimeandwithnotechnique.
Theytooksolidhitsanddrewback.Idancedaround,hammeringanyonewhocamenearme,butIwassurroundedandIcouldn’twin.
Itwasonlythecrowd’sfascinationwiththefightingthatkeptthemfromsurgingforwardinastranglingcrushofbodies.
Adeterminedphalanxofeightortenmenbrokethroughthecircle,andIwasfacetofacewithKhaledAnsari.Iwasrunningoninstinct,andIalmostpunchedhim.Heheldoutbothhands,wavingformetostop.Hismenploughedtheirwaybackintothecrowd,andKhaledpushedmeinbehindthem.Someonepunchedmyheadfrombehind,andIturnedandranatthemobagain,wantingtofighteverymaninthecity;wantingtofightuntiltheypunchedmenumb;untilIcouldn’tfeelthatspear,deadAbdullah’sspear,inmychest.Khaledandtwoofhisfriendswrappedtheirarmsaroundmeanddraggedmeoutofthewrithing,lunatichellthatthestreethadbecome.“Hisbody’snotthere,”Khaledtoldmewhenwefoundmybike.Hewipedthebloodfrommyfacewithahandkerchief.Myeyewasswellingupquickly,andblooddrippedfrommynoseandacutonmylowerlip.Ihadn’tfelttheblowsatall.Therewasnopain.
Thepainwasallinmychest,rightnexttomyheart,andIbreatheditin,andout,andin.
“Thecrowdstormedtheplace.Hundredsofthem.Thatwasbeforewegothere.Whenthecopspushedthemoutagain,theywenttothecellwherethey’dputhisbody,anditwasempty.Thecrowdletalltheprisonersout,andtheygothisbody.”
“Ah,Jesus,”Imoaned.“Ah,fuck.Ah,God.”
“We’llgetpeopleonit,”Khaledsaid,quietandconfident.
“We’llfindoutwhathappened.We’llfind…it…him.We’llfindhisbody.”
IrodebacktoLeopold’s,andfoundJohnnyCigarsittingatDidier’stable.DidierandLisaweregone.IcollapsedinachairbesideJohnny,muchasLisahaddonebesideDidierafewhoursbefore.Leaningmyelbowsonthetable,Irubbedmyeyeswiththeheelsofmyhands.
“Aterriblething,”Johnnysaid.
“Yeah.”
“Itshouldn’thavehappened.”
“No.”
“Anditdidn’tneedtohappen.Notlikethis.”
“Yeah.”
“Hedidn’tneedtotakethatfare.Itwasthelastoneforthenight,buthedidn’tneedit.Hemadeplentyyesterday.”
“What?”Iasked,lookingathimwithafrownthatwasangryinitsbewilderment.
“Prabaker’saccident,”hesaid.
“What?”
“Theaccident,”herepeated.
“What…accident?”
“Oh,myGod,Lin,Ithoughtyouknewaboutit,”hesaid,thebloodinhisfaceanebbtidethatrecededtohistighteningthroat.Hisvoicecracked,andhiseyesfilledwithtears.“Ithoughtyouknew.WhenIsawyourfacejustnow,thewayyoulook,Ithoughtyouknewaboutit.I’vebeenwaitingforyounearlyforonehour.IcametofindyouassoonasIleftthehospital.”
“Hospital…”Irepeatedstupidly.“St.GeorgeHospital.He’sintheintensivecare.Theoperation-”
“Whatoperation?”
“Hewashurt-verybadlyhurt,Lin.Theoperationwas…he’sstillalive,but…”
“Butwhat?”
Johnnybrokedownandwept,bringinghimselfundercontrolonlywithdeepbreathsandaclench-jawedeffortofwill.
“Hetooktwopassengers,verylatelastnight.Actually,itwasaboutthreeo’clockthismorning.Amanandhisdaughter,wantingtogototheairport.Therewasahandcartonthehighwayroad.
Youknowhowthesefellowstakesomeshort-cutsatnight,onthemainroad.It’sforbidden,butstilltheydoit,yaar,tosavemilesofpushingthoseheavycarts.Thiscartwasfullofsteelforbuilding.Longsteelpieces.Theylostthecontrolofthatcartonahill.Itslippedfromtheirhands,anditrolledbackwards.Prabakercamearoundthecornerinhistaxi,andthewholethingwentintothefrontofthecar.Someofthesteelwentthroughthewindow.Themanandthewomaninthebackwerekilled.Theirheadscameoff.Completelyoff.Prabakerwashitintheface.”
Heweptagain,andIreachedouttocomforthim.Touristsandpatronsatothertablesglancedatus,butquicklylookedaway.
Whenherecovered,Iorderedawhiskyforhim.Hegulpeditinonetipoftheglass,asPrabakerhaddoneonthefirstdaythatImethim.
“Howbadishe?”
“Thedoctorsaidit’ssurehewilldie,Lin,”Johnnysobbed.“Hisjawisgone.Thesteeltookitawaycompletely.Everythingisgone.Allhisteeth.Thereisabighole,justabighole,wherehismouthandhisjawusedtobe.Hisneckisopen.Theyhaven’tevenputbandagesonhisface,becausetherearesomanytubesandpipesgoingintothathole.Tokeephimalive.Howhesurvivedit,inthatcarlikethat,nobodycansay.Hewastrappedintherefortwohours.Thedoctorsthinkthathewilldietonight.That’swhyItriedtofindyou.Hegotbadwoundsinthechestandstomachandhead.He’sgoingtodie,Lin.He’sgoingtodie.Wehavetogothere.”
Wewalkedintothecritical-careward,andfoundKishanandRukhmabaisittingatthesideofhisbedandweepinginoneanother’sarms.Parvati,Sita,Jeetendra,andQasimAliwereallstandinginsolemnsilenceatthefootofthebed.Prabakerwasunconscious.Abankofmachinesmonitoredhisvitalsigns.Tubesandmetalpipesweretapedtohisface-whatwasleftofhisface.Thatgreatsmile,thatgorgeous,solarsmile,hadbeenrippedfromhisface.Itwassimply…gone.
Inadutyroomonthegroundfloor,Ifoundthedoctorinchargeofhiscare.IpulledabundleofAmericanhundred-dollarbillsfrommybeltandofferedittohim,askinghimtoforwardanyfurtheraccountstome.Hewouldn’ttakeit.Therewasnohope,hesaid.Prabakerhadhours,perhapsonlyminutes,tolive.Thatwaswhyhe’dallowedthefamilyandfriendstoremainatthebedside.Therewasnothingtodo,hesaid,butwaitwithhim,andwatchhimdie.IreturnedtoPrabaker’sroomandgaveParvatithemoney,togetherwitheverythingI’dearnedonmymostrecentcourierrun.
Ifoundatoiletinthehospitalandthenwashedmyfaceandneck.ThecutsandwoundsonmyfacefilledmyachingheadwiththoughtsofAbdullah.Icouldn’tbeartothinkthosethoughts.Icouldn’tholdtheimageofmywild,Iranianfriendsurroundedbycopsandshootingitoutuntilhisbodywastornandbloodied.Istaredintothemirror,feelingtheacidburnoftears.Islappedmyselfhardawake,andreturnedtoPrabaker’sfloor.
Istoodwiththeothers,atthefootofhisbed,forthreehours.
Exhausted,Ibegantonodoff,andIhadtoadmitthatIcouldn’tstayawake.Inarelativelyquietcorner,Iputtwochairsagainstthewallandwenttosleep.Adreamswallowedmewhole,almostatonce.ItcarriedmetoSunder.IwasfloatingonthemurmuringtideofvoicesonthatfirstnightinthevillagewhenPrabaker’sfatherputhishandonmyshoulder,andIclenchedmyteethagainstthestars.WhenIwokefromthedream,Kishanwassittingtherebesidemewithhishandonmyshoulder,andwhenImethiseyeswebothsobbedhelplessly.
Intheend,whenitwassurethatPrabakerwoulddie,andweallknewit,andweallacceptedthefactthathehadtodie,wewentthroughfourdaysandnightsofwatchinghisbravelittlebodysuffer,whatwasleftofhim,thealmost-Prabakerwiththeamputatedsmile.Intheend,afterdaysandnightsofwatchinghimsufferthatpainandbewilderment,Ibegantohopethathewoulddie,andtowishforitwithallmyheart.IlovedhimsomuchthatintheendIfoundanemptycornerinacleaner’sroom,whereatapdrippedconstantlyintoaconcretetrough,andIfelltomykneesonaplacemarkedbytwowetfootprints,andIbeggedGodtolethimdie.Andthenhediddie.Inthehuthe’doncesharedwithParvati,Prabaker’smother,Rukhmabai,unfurledherthigh-lengthhair.Shewassittinginthedoorwaywithherbacktotheworld.Herblackhairwasnight’swaterfall.Shecutacrossthickly,closetoherhead,withsharpshears,andthelonghairfelllikeashadowdying.
Atfirst,whenwetrulylovesomeone,ourgreatestfearisthatthelovedonewillstoplovingus.Whatweshouldfearanddread,ofcourse,isthatwewon’tstoplovingthem,evenafterthey’redeadandgone.ForIstillloveyouwiththewholeofmyheart,Prabaker.Istillloveyou.Andsometimes,myfriend,thelovethatIhave,andcan’tgivetoyou,crushesthebreathfrommychest.Sometimes,evennow,myheartisdrowninginasorrowthathasnostarswithoutyou,andnolaughter,andnosleep.
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CHAPTERTHIRTY
Heroinisasensorydeprivationtankforthesoul.FloatingontheDeadSeaofthedrugstone,there’snosenseofpain,noregretorshame,nofeelingsofguiltorgrief,nodepression,andnodesire.Thesleepinguniverseentersandenvelopseveryatomofexistence.Insensiblestillnessandpeacedispersefearandsuffering.Thoughtsdriftlikeoceanweedsandvanishinthedistant,greysomnolency,unperceivedandindeterminable.Thebodysuccumbstocryogenicslumber:thelistlessheartbeatsfaintly,andbreathingslowlyfadestorandomwhispers.Thicknirvanicnumbnessclogsthelimbs,anddownward,deeper,thesleeperslidesandglidestowardoblivion,theperfectandeternalstone.
Thatchemicalabsolutionispaidfor,likeeverythingelseintheuniverse,withlight.Thefirstlightthatjunkiesloseisthelightintheireyes.Ajunkie’seyesareaslightlessastheeyesofGreekstatues,aslightlessashammeredlead,aslightlessasabulletholeinadeadman’sback.Thenextlightlostisthelightofdesire.Junkieskilldesirewiththesameweapontheyuseonhopeanddreamandhonour:theclubmadefromtheircraving.Andwhenalltheotherlightsoflifearegone,thelastlightlostisthelightoflove.Soonerorlater,whenit’sdowntothelasthit,thejunkiewillgiveupthewomanheloves,ratherthangowithout;soonerorlater,everyhardjunkiebecomesadevilinexile
Ilevitated.Ifloated,upraisedonthesupernatantliquidofthesmackinthespoon,andthespoonwasasbigasaroom.Theraftofopiateparalysisdriftedacrossthelittlelakeinthespoon,andtheraftersintersectingovermyheadseemedtoholdananswer,somekindofanswer,intheirsymmetry.Istaredattherafters,knowingthattheanswerwasthereandthatitmightsaveme.AndthenIclosedmyeyesofhammeredleadagain,andlostit.AndsometimesIwoke.SometimesIwaswide-awakeenoughtowantmoreofthedeadeningdrug.SometimesIwasawakeenoughtorememberitall.
There’dbeennofuneralforAbdullahbecausetherewasnobodyforthem,forus,tobury.HisbodyhaddisappearedduringthebrawlingriotjustasMaurizio’sbodyhaddisappeared-ascompletelyasaflared,exhaustedstar.IjoinedtheotherstocarryPrabaker’sbodytotheghat,theburningplace.Iranwiththemthroughthestreets.Iranwiththembeneaththegarlandedburdenofhislittlebody,chantingnamesofGod,andthenIwatchedhisbodyburn.Griefroamedthelanesoftheslumafterward,andIcouldn’tremaintherewiththegatheringoffriendsandfamilywhomournedhim.TheystoodnearthespotwherePrabakerhadbeenmarriedonlyweeksbefore.Tatteredstreamersfromtheweddingstilldangledfromtheroofsofsomeofthehuts.IspoketoQasimAli,Johnny,Jeetendra,andKishanMango,butthenIleftthemandrodetoDongri.IhadquestionsforlordAbdelKhaderKhan:questionsthatcrawledinsidemelikethethingsinHassaanObikwa’spit.
ThehouseneartheNabilaMosquewasclosed,lockedupwithheavypadlocksandutterlysilent.No-oneintheforecourtofthemosqueorthestreetofshopscouldtellmewhenhe’dleft,orwhenhemightreturn.Frustratedandangry,IrodetoseeAbdulGhani.Hishousewasopenbuthisservantstoldmethathewasoutofthecityonaholiday,andwasn’texpectedhomeagainforweeks.Ivisitedthepassportfactory,andfoundKrishnaandVilluhardatwork.TheyconfirmedthatGhanihadlefttheminstructionsandsufficientfundsforseveralweeksofwork,andhadtoldthemthathewastakingaholiday.WhenIrodetoKhaledAnsari’sapartment,ImetawatchmanondutywhotoldmethatKhaledwasinPakistan.HehadnoideawhenthedourPalestinianwouldreturn.
TheothermembersofKhader’smafiacouncilwerejustassuddenlyandconvenientlyabsent.FaridwasinDubai.GeneralSobhanMahmoudwasinKashmir.No-oneansweredmyknockatKekiDorabjee’shouse,andeverywindowwasdarkenedwithadrawnshade.Rajubhai,who’dneverbeenknowntomissadayathiscountinghouseintheFort,wasvisitingasickrelativeinDelhi.Eventhesecond-levelbossesandlieutenantswereoutoftownorsimplyunavailable.
Thosewhoremained,thegoldagentsandcurrencycouriersandpassportcontactsalloverthecity,werepoliteandfriendly.
Workforthemseemedtocontinueatthesamepaceandwiththesameroutines.Myownworkwasjustassecure.Iwasanticipatedateverydepot,exchangecentre,jewellerystore,andotherpointofcontactwithKhader’sempire.Instructionshadbeenleftformewithgolddealers,currencymen,andthetoutswhoboughtandstolepassports.Iwasn’tsureifitwasacomplimenttome-thatIcouldbereliedupontofunctionintheabsenceofthecouncil-orthattheysawmeassoinconsequentialintheirschemeofthingsthatIdidn’tmeritanexplanation.
Whateverthereason,Ifeltdishearteninglyaloneinthecity.
I’dlostPrabakerandAbdullah,myclosestfriends,inthesameweek,andwiththemI’dlostthemarkonthepsychicmapthatsaysYouAreHere.Personalityandpersonalidentityareinsomewayslikeco-ordinatesonthestreetmapdrawnbyourintersectingrelationships.Weknowwhoweareandwedefinewhatwearebyreferencestothepeopleweloveandourreasonsforlovingthem.IwasthatpointinspaceandtimewhereAbdullah’swildviolenceintersectedwithPrabaker’shappygentleness.
Adrift,then,andsomehowun-definedbytheirdeaths,IrealisedwithuneaseandsurprisehowmuchI’dalsocometodependuponKhaderandhiscouncilofbosses.Myinteractionswithmostofthemhadbeencursory,itseemedtome,andyetImissedthereassuranceoftheirpresenceinthecityalmostasmuchasImissedthecompanyofmydeadfriends.
AndIwasangry.Ittookmeawhiletounderstandthatanger,andtorealisethatKhaderbhaiwasitsinstigatoranditstarget.IblamedhimforAbdullah’sdeath:fornotprotectinghimandfornotsavinghim.Icouldn’tbringmyselftobelievethatAbdullah,thefriendI’dloved,wasthebrutalmadmanSapna.ButIwasreadytobelievethatAbdelKhaderKhanhadsomeconnectiontoSapnaandtothekillings.Moreover,Ifeltbetrayedbyhisdesertionofthecity.Itwasasifhe’dabandonedmetoface…everything…alone.Itwasaridiculousnotion,ofcourse,andquiteself-aggrandising.ThetruthwasthathundredsofKhader’smenwerestillworkinginBombay,andIdealtwithmanyofthemeveryday.ButstillIfeltit-betrayedandforsaken.Acoldness,formedfromdoubtandangryfear,begantospreadinwardtowardthecoreofmyfeelingfortheKhan.Istilllovedhim,andIwasstillbondedtohimasasontohisfather,buthewasnolongermyreveredandflawlesshero.
Amujaheddinfighteroncetoldmethatfategivesallofusthreeteachers,threefriends,threeenemies,andthreegreatlovesinourlives.Butthesetwelvearealwaysdisguised,andwecanneverknowwhichoneiswhichuntilwe’velovedthem,leftthem,orfoughtthem.Khaderwasoneofmytwelve,buthisdisguisewasalwaysthebest.Inthoseabandoned,angrydays,asmygrievingheartlimpedintonumbingdespair,Ibegantothinkofhimasmyenemy;mybelovedenemy.
Anddealbydeal,crimebycrime,daybydaymywillandpurposeandhopestaggeredtowardthepit.LisaCarterpursuedandwonhercontractwithChandraMehtaandCliffDeSouza.ForhersakeIsatinatthemeetingthatclinchedthedeal,andIsignedonasherpartner.Theproducerssawmyinvolvementasimportant.IwastheirsafeconduittotheblackmoneyoftheKhaderKhanmafia-anuntappedandvirtuallyinexhaustibleresource.Theydidn’tmentionthatconnection,notthen,butitwasakeyfactorintheirdecisiontosignonwithLisa.ThecontractspecifiedthatLisaandIwouldsupplyforeignjuniorartists,asbitplayerswereknown,forthreemajorstudios.Thetermsofpaymentandcommissionsweresetfortwoyears.
Afterthemeeting,LisawalkedmetomybikeparkedattheseawallonMarineDrive.WesattogetherattheprecisespotwhereAbdullahhadputhishandonmyshoulder,yearsbefore,whenmymindwasfilledwiththedrowningsea.Wewerelonely,LisaandI,andatfirstwetalkedtooneanotheraslonelypeopledo-infragmentsofcomplaint,andcornersclippedfromconversationsthatwe’dalreadyhadwithourselves,alone.
“Heknewitwouldhappen,”shesaidafteralong,silentpause.
“That’swhyhegavemethatmoneyinthecase.Wetalkedaboutit.Hetalkedaboutit.Hetalkedaboutbeingkilled.YouknowaboutthewarinIran?ThewarwithIraq?Healmostgotkilledthereafewtimes.Itgotintohishead,I’msureofit.Ithinkhewantedtodie,forrunningawayfromthewarandleavinghisfriendsandfamilybehind.Andwhenitcamedowntoit,ifiteverdidcomedowntoit,hewantedtogooutlikethat.”
“Maybe,”Iansweredher,lookingatthesublime,indifferentsea.
“Karlaoncesaidweallattemptsuicideseveraltimesinourlives,andsoonerorlaterweallsucceed.”
Lisalaughed,becauseI’dsurprisedherwiththequote,butthelaughendedinalongsigh.Shetiltedherheadtoletthewindplaywithherhair.
“ThethingwithUlla,”shesaidquietly,“It’sbeenkillingme,Lin.Ican’tgetModenaoutofmymind.I’mreadingallthepapers,everyday,lookingforsomethingabouthim-aboutmaybetheyfoundhimorsomething.It’sweird…thethingwithMaurizio,youknow,Iwassickwithitforweeksafter.Iusedtocryallthetime,justwalkingonthestreetorreadingabookortryingtosleep,andIcouldn’teatamealwithoutfeelingsicktomystomach.Icouldn’tstopthinkingabouthisdeadbody…andtheknife…whatitmust’vefeltlike,whenUllapushedtheknifeintohim…Butnow,allthat’skindoffaded.It’sstillthere,youknow,inthebottomofmygut,butitdoesn’tfreakmeoutanymore.AndevenAbdullah-Idon’tknowifI’minshockordenialorwhatever,butIdon’t…letmyselfthinkabouthim.It’slike…likeIacceptit,orsomething.ButModena-thatkeepsgettingworse.Ican’tstopthinkingabouthim.”
“Iseehim,too,”Imuttered.“Iseehisface,andIwasn’teventhereinthathotelroom.It’snotgood.”
“Ishould’vehither.”
“Ulla?”
“Yes,Ulla!”
“Why?”
“That…callous…bitch!Shelefthimthere,tiedupinthatroom.Shebroughtyoutrouble,andmetroubleand…Maurizio…ButwhenshetoldusaboutModena,Ijustputmyarmaroundher,andtookhertotheshower,andlookedafterherlikeshe’djusttoldmeshehadn’tfedherpetgoldfish.Ishould’veslappedherorsockedheroneonthejaworkickedherassorsomething.
Nowshe’sgone,andI’mstillfreakingoutaboutModena.”
“Somepeopledothat,”Isaid,smilingattheangerinherbecauseIfeltitmyself.“Somepeoplealwaysmanagetomakeusfeelsorryforthem,nomatterhowstupidandangrywefeelaboutitafter.They’rethecanaries,kindof,inthecoalminesofourhearts.Ifwestopfeelingsorryforthem,whentheyletusdown,we’reindeeptrouble.Andanyway,Ididn’tgetinvolvedtohelpher.Ididittohelpyou.”
“Oh,Iknow,Iknow,”shesighed.“It’snotUlla’sfault.Notreally.ThePalacemessedherup.Itmessedwithherheadcompletely.EveryonewhoworkedforMadameZhougotmessedupinsomeway.Youshould’veseenUlla,backthen,whenshestartedworkthere.Shewasgorgeous,Igottatellya.Andkindof…innocent…inawaythattherestofusweren’t,ifyouknowwhatImean.IwenttherealreadycrazywhenIfirststartedworkthere.Butitfuckedmeup,too.Weall…wehadto…wedidsomeweirdshitthere…”
“Youtoldmeaboutit,”Isaidgently.
“Itoldyou?”“Yeah.”
“Itoldyouwhat?”
“Youtoldme…alotofit.ThenightIcamearoundtogetmyclothesfromKarla’s.Iwenttherewiththekid,Tariq.Youwereverydrunk,andverystoned.”
“AndItoldyouaboutthat?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus!Idon’trememberthat.Iwasstartingtoturkey.Thatwasthefirstnight,whenItriedtogetoffthestuff-whenIdidgetoffthestuff.Irememberthekid,though…andIrememberyoudidn’twanttohavesexwithme.”
“Oh,Iwantedit,alright.”
Sheturnedherheadquicklyandmetmyeye.Herexpressionsmiledatthelips,butatinyfrowncreasedherforehead.Shewaswearingaredsalwarkameez.Thelong,loosesilkshirtclungtoherbreastsandtheoutlineofherfigureinthestrongseabreeze.Herblueeyesglitteredwithcourageandothermysteries.
Shewasbraveandfragileandtoughinthesameinstant.She’ddraggedherselffromthelifethatwasdrowningheratMadameZhou’sPalace,andshe’dbeatenheroin.Indefenceofherfriend’slife,andherown,she’dhelpedtokillaman.She’dlostherlover,Abdullah,myfriend,hisbodytornandmutilatedbybullets.Anditwasallthere,inhereyesandherthinface,thinnerthanitshould’vebeen.Itwasallthere,ifyouknewwhattolookfor,andifyouknewwheretolook.
“So,howdidyouendupatthePalace?”Iasked,andsheflinchedalittleasIchangedthesubject.
“Idon’tknow,”shesighed.“IranawayfromhomewhenIwasakid.Icouldn’tstanditathome.IgotouttathereassoonasIcould.InacoupleyearsIwasateenagejunkie,workingthebeatinL.A.andgettingbeatupbythatmonth’spimp.Thenaguycamealong,anice,quiet,lonely,gentleguy,namedMatt.Ifellforhim,hard.Hewasmyfirstreallove.Hewasamusician,andhe’dbeentoIndiaacoupletimes.Hewassurewecouldmakeenoughmoneyforanewstart,ifwesmuggledsomeshitfromBombaybackhome.Hesaidthathe’dpayforthetickets,ifIagreedtocarrythestuff.Whenwegothere,hejusttookoffwitheverything-allourmoney,andmypassport,andeverything.Idon’tknowwhathappened.Idon’tknowifhegotcoldfeetorfoundsomeoneelsetodothejoborjustdecidedtodoithimself.Idon’tknow.Theendofitwas…thatIgotstuckinBombaywithabig,ragingheroinhabit,andnomoney,andnopassport.Istartedworkingfromahotelroom,turningtrickstokeepgoing.Afteracouplemonthsofthat,acopcameintomyroomonedayandtoldmeIwasbusted.IwasgoingtoanIndianjail-unlessIagreedtoworkforthisfriendofhis.”
“MadameZhou.”
“Yeah.”
“Tellme,didyoueverseeher?Didyouevertalktoherinperson?”
“Nah.Almostno-oneevertalkstoherorseesher,exceptforRajanandhisbrother.Karlametherinperson.Karlahatesher.
Karlahateshermorethan…I’veneverseenanythinglikeitinmylife.Karlahateshersomuchthatshe’sabitcrazywithit,ifyouknowwhatImean.ShethinksaboutMadameZhoualmostallthetime,andshe’llgether,soonerorlater.”
“ThethingwithherfriendAhmed,andChristine,”Imurmured.
“ShethinksMadameZhouhadthemkilled,andsheblamesherselfforit.Shecan’tletitgo.”
“That’sright!”sheansweredwonderingly,herfacefrowningandsmilinginpuzzlement.“Didshetellyouaboutthat?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s…”shelaughed,“that’samazing!Karlanevertalkstoanyoneaboutthat.Imean,anyone.ButIguessit’snotreallysoamazing.Youreallygotunderherskin.Youknowthattimewhenthecholerawasintheslumandall?Shetalkedaboutthatforweeksafter.Shetalkedaboutitlikeitwassomekindofholyexperience,somekindoftranscendentalhigh.Andshetalkedaboutyoualot.I’veneverseenherso…inspired,Iguess.”
“WhenKarlagotmetorescueyoufromthePalace,”Iasked,notlookingather,“wasthatforyou,orwasitjustawaytoscorepointsagainstMadameZhou?”
“Youmean,werewejustpawnsinKarla’sgame,youandme?Isthatwhatyou’reasking?”
“Somethinglikethat.”
“IthinkI’dhavetosayyes,wewere.”Shepulledherlongscarffromherneckanddrewitacrossanopenpalm,staringatitintently.“Oh,youknow,Karlalikesmeandall,I’msureaboutthat.She’stoldmethingsthatnobodyknows-notevenyou.AndIlikeher.AndshelivedintheStates,youknow.Shegrewupthere,andshefeltsomethingaboutthat.IthinkIwastheonlyAmericangirlwhoeverworkedatthePalace.Buttheheartofit,deepdown,wasthiswarwithMadameZhou.Ithinkwegotusedup,youandme.Butitdoesn’tmatter,youknow?Shegotmeoutofthere-yougotmeoutofthere,withher,andI’mdamnglad.Whateverherreasonswere,Idon’tholditagainsther,andIdon’tthinkyoushouldeither.”
“Idon’t,”Isighed.
“But?”
“But…nothing.Wedidn’tworkout,Karlaandme,butI…”
“Youstillloveher?”
Iturnedmyheadtolookather,butwhenherblueeyesmetmineIchangedthesubject.
“HaveyouheardanythingfromMadameZhou?”
“Notathing.”
“Hasshebeenaskingquestionsaboutyou?Anythingatall?”
“Nothing,thankGod.It’sweird-Idon’thateMadameZhou.Idon’tfeelanythingforher,onewayortheother,exceptthatIneverwanttogoanywherenearheragain.ButIdohateherservant,Rajan.IfyouworkedatthePalace,he’stheoneyouhadtodealwithandanswerto.Hisbrothertakescareofthekitchen,butRajanlooksafterthegirls.Andthat’sonespookymotherfucker,thatRajan.Hegetsaroundlikeaghost.It’slikehe’sgoteyesinthebackofhishead.He’sthescariestthinginthewholeworld,letmetellya.MadameZhou,Ineverevensaw.
Shetalkstoyouthroughametalgrille.There’satleastoneineveryroom,soshecanwatchwhat’sgoingon,andtalktothegirlsorthecustomers.It’safuckin’creepyplace,Lin.I’dratherdiethangobacktothat.”
Therewasanothersilence.Wavespushedattheshorelineofrocksandpebblesatthebaseofthewall.Seagullshovered,prowlingthewindforsignsofthingsthatslitheredandscuttledamongtherocks.
“Howmuchmoneydidheleaveyou?”
“I’mnotsure,”shesaid.“Inevercountedit.It’salot.
Seventy,eightygrand-alotmore,youknow,thanMauriziocarvedupModenafor,andgothimselfkilledfor.It’scrazy,isn’tit?”
“Youshouldtakeit,andgetthefuckoutofhere.”
“That’sfunny-Ithoughtwejustsignedatwo-yearcontractwithMehtaandhisproductioncompany.Youknow,thelet’s-get-onwith-our-_livescontract.”
“Fuckthecontract.”
“Comeon,Lin.”
“Fuckthecontract.You’vegottagetoutofthis.Wedon’tknowwhatthefuck’sgoingon.Wedon’tknowwhyAbdullah’sdead.Wedon’tknowwhathediddo,orwhathedidn’tdo.Ifhewasn’tSapna,thenthingsarebad.IfhewasSapna,thingsaremuchworse.Youshouldtakethemoneyandjust…go.”
“Andgowhere?”
“Anywhere.”
“Areyougoing?”
“No.I’vegotunfinishedbusinesshere.AndI’m…I’mfinishedmyself,inaway.Butyoushouldgo.”
“Youdon’tgetit,doyou?”shedemanded.“It’snotaboutthemoney.IfIgobacknow,I’llputthelotofitinmyarm.I’vegottahavesomethingmorethanmoney.I’mtryingto_buildsomethingherewiththisbusiness.AndIcandoithere.I’msomethinghere.I’msomebody.Thepeoplelookatme,whenIjustwalkdownthestreet,becauseI’mdifferent.”
“You’dbesomething,whereveryouare,”Isaid,grinningather.
“Don’tmakefunofme,Lin.”
“I’mnot,Lisa.You’reabeautifulgirl,andyou’vegotheart-that’swhypeoplestareatyou.”
“Thiscanwork,”sheinsisted.“Icanfeelitinmybones.Idon’thaveanyeducation,Lin,andI’mnotsmartlikeyou.I’mnottrainedtodoanything.Butthis…thiscouldbebig.Icould,Idon’tknow…Icouldstartproducingmovies,maybe,oneday.Icould…dosomethinggood.”
“Youaregood.You’lldogoodwhereveryougo.”
“No.Thisismychance.I’mnotgoingback-I’mnotgoinganywhere-untilI’vemadeit.IfIdon’tdothat,ifIdon’ttry,thenthewholethingwillbefornothing.Maurizio…andeverythingelsethat’shappenedwillbefornothing.IfIleavehere,Iwanttodoitwithmyheadonstraight,andapocketfullofmoneythatIearnedmyself.”
Ilookedintothewind,feelingthedayalternatelywarmandcoolandwarmagainonmyfaceandarmsasthebreezeturnedandreturnedacrossthebay.Asmallfleetoffishingcanoesdriftedpastusontheirwaybacktothefishermen’ssandyrefugeneartheslum.Isuddenlyrememberedthedayintherain,sailinginacanoeacrossthefloodedforecourtoftheTajMahalHotelandbeneaththebooming,resonantdomeoftheGatewayMonument.IrememberedVinod’slovesong,andtherainthatnightasKarlacameintomyarms.
Andstaring,then,attheceaseless,eternalwaves,Irememberedallthathadbeenlostsincethatstormingnight:prison,torture,Karlagone,Ullagone,Khaderbhaiandhiscouncilgone,Anandgone,Mauriziodead,Modenaprobablydead,Rasheeddead,Abdullahdead,andPrabaker-itwasimpossible-Prabaker,alsodead.AndIwasoneofthem:walkingandtalkingandstaringatthewildingwaves,butasdeadinmyheartasalltherest.
“Andwhataboutyou?”sheasked.Icouldfeelhereyesonme,andIcouldheartheemotionsinhervoice:sympathy,tenderness,maybeevenlove.“IfIstay-andI’mdefinitelygoingtostay-whatareyougoingtodo?”
Ilookedatherforawhile,readingtherunesinhersky-blueeyes.ThenIstoodfromthewall,heldherinmyarms,andkissedher.Itwasalongkiss.Welivedoutalifetogetherinthatkiss:welivedandlovedandgrewoldtogether,andwedied.Thenourlipsparted,andthatlifewemight’vehadretreated,shrinkingtoasparkoflightwewouldalwaysrecogniseinoneanother’seyes.
Icould’velovedher.MaybeIalreadydidloveheralittle.Butsometimestheworstthingyoucandotoawomanistoloveher.
AndIstilllovedKarla.IlovedKarla.
“Whatam_Igoingtodo?”Isaid,repeatingherquestion.Iheldhershouldersinmyhands,keepingheratthedistanceofmyarms.Ismiled.“Iamgoingtogetstoned.”
Irodeaway,andneverlookedback.Ipaidthreemonths’rentonmyapartment,andpaidsubstantialbaksheeshtothewatchmaninthecarparkandthewatchmaninthebuilding.Ikeptonegood,forgedpassportinmypocket,putallmysparepassportsandabundleofcashintoasatchel,andleftitwithmyEnfieldBulletbikeinDidier’scare.ThenItookacabtoGupta-ji’sopiumdenneartheStreetofTenThousandWhores,ShoklajiStreet.Iclimbedthewornwoodenstepstothethirdfloorandwalkedintothecagethatjunkiesbuildforthemselves,oneshiny,sharp,steelbaratatime.
Gupta-jiprovidedalargeroomwithtwentysleepingmatsandwoodenpillowsforhisopiumsmokers.Forthosewithspecialneedshereservedotherroomsbehindthatopenden.Throughaverysmalldoorway,Ienteredthediscreetcorridorthatledtothosebackrooms.ItwassolowthatIhadtostoop,almosttocrawling.TheroomIchosehadacotwithakapokmattress,aweatheredcarpet,asmallcabinetwithwickerworkdoors,alampwithasilklampshade,andalargeclaymatkafilledwithwater.Thewallsonthreesidesweremadefromreedmattingstretcheduponwoodenframes.Thelastwall,attheheadofthebed,lookedoutoverabusystreetofArabandlocalMuslimtraders,butitswindowswereshutteredsothatonlyafewbrightstarsofsunlightgleamedinthechinksandgaps.Therewasnoceiling.Instead,theviewoverheadwasofheavyrafterscrossingandjoiningoneanotherinsupportoftheclaytileroof.Igottoknowthatviewverywell.
Gupta-jitookmoneyandinstructions,andleftmealone.Theroom,soclosetotheroof,wasveryhot.Itookmyshirtoff,andswitchedoffthelamp.Thedarklittleroomwaslikeacell;aprisoncellatnight.Isatonthebedand,almostatonce,thetearscame.I’dcriedbefore,inBombay.I’dshedtearsafterImetRanjit’slepers,andwhenthestrangerhadwashedmytorturedbodyinArthurRoadPrison,andwithPrabaker’sfatheratthehospital.Butthatsorrowandsufferinghadalwaysbeenstifled:somehow,I’dmanagedtochokebacktheworstofit,thefloodofit.Then,aloneinthatlittleopiumcellwithmyruinedloveforthosedeadfriends,AbdullahandPrabaker,Iletitgo.
Thetears,whentheycometosomemen,areworsethanbeatings.
They’rewoundedworsebysobbing,menlikethat,thantheyarebybootsandbatons.Tearsbeginintheheart,butsomeofusdenytheheartsooften,andforsolong,thatwhenitspeakswehearnotonebutahundredsorrowsintheheartbreak.Weknowthatcryingisagoodandnaturalthing.Weknowthatcryingisn’taweakness,butakindofstrength.Still,theweepingripsusrootbytangledrootfromtheearth,andwecrashlikefallentreeswhenwecry.
Gupta-jigavemetime.WhenatlastIheardthesliding,scuffingsoundofhischappalsasheapproachedthedoorIsmearedthesorrowfrommyface,andswitchedonthelamp.He’dbroughtwhatI’daskedfor-asteelspoon,distilledwater,disposablesyringes,heroin,andacartonofcigarettes-andhesettheitemsoutonthelittledresser.Therewasagirlwithhim.HetoldmethathernamewasShilpa,andthathe’dassignedhertomeasaservant.Shewasyoung,yearslessthantwenty,butalreadyscarredwiththeglumexpressionoftheworkingprofessional.
Hope,readytosnarlorgrovellikeabeatencur,coweredinhereyes.IsentherandGupta-jiaway,andcookedupatasteofheroin.
Thedosesatinthesyringeforalmostanhour.Ipickeditupandputtheneedleagainstafat,strong,healthyveininmyarmfivetimes,onlytoputitdownagainunused.AndforthewholeofthatsweatinghourIstaredattheliquidinthesyringe.Thatwasit.Thedamnationdrug.Thatwasthebigone,thedrugthathaddrivenmetocommitstupid,violentcrimes;thathadputmeinprison;thathadcostmemyfamily,andlostmylovedones.
Theeverything-and-nothingdrug:ittakeseverything,andgivesyounothinginreturn.Butthenothingthatitgivesyou,theunfeelingemptinessitgivesyou,issometimesallandeverythingyouwant.
Ipushedtheneedleintothevein,pulledbacktheroseofbloodthatconfirmedthecleanpunctureofthevein,andpressedtheplungerallthewaytothestop.BeforeIcouldpulltheneedlefrommyarm,thedrugmademymindSahara.Warm,dry,shining,andfeatureless,thedunesofthedrugsmotheredallthought,andburiedtheforgottencivilisationofmymind.Thewarmthfilledmybodyaswell,killingoffthethousandlittleaches,twinges,anddiscomfortsthatweendureandignoreineverysoberday.
Therewasnopain.Therewasnothing.
Andthen,withthedesertstillinmymind,Ifeltmybodydrowning,andIbrokethesurfaceofasuffocatinglake.Wasitaweekafterthatfirsttaste?Wasitamonth?Icrawledontotheraftandfloatedthereonthelethallakeinthespoon,carryingtheSaharainmyblood.Andthoseraftersoverhead:therewasakindofmessageinthem,amessageabouthowandwhyweallintersected,KhaderandKarlaandAbdullahandI.Ourlives,allofus,inthelinktoAbdullah’sdeath,intersectedinsomeuniquelyprofoundway.Itwasthere,intherafters,akeytothecode.
ButIclosedmyeyes.IrememberedPrabaker.Irememberedthathewasworkingsohardandsolateonthenighthediedbecauseheownedthetaxi,andwasworkingforhimself.I’dboughtthetaxiforhim.He’dbealiveifIhadn’tboughtthattaxiforhim.HewasthelittlemousethatI’dtrainedandfedwithcrumbsinmyprisoncell;themousethatwascrucified.Andsometimesthebreezeofaclear,unstonedhourgavemeanimageofAbdullahintheminutebeforehedied,aloneinthekillingcircle.Alone.Ishould’vebeenthere.Iwaswithhimeveryday.Ishould’vebeenwithhimthen.Friendsdon’tletfriendsdielikethat-alonewithdeathandfate.Andwherewashisbody?AndwhatifhewasSapna?
Couldmyfriend,myfriendIloved,reallyhavebeenthatruthless,insanemutilator?WhatdidGhanisay?PiecesofMadjid’sslaughteredbodywerefoundalloverhishouse…CouldIhavelovedthemanwhodidthat?Whatdiditmean,thatsomesmall,insistentpartofmefearedthathewasSapna,andlovedhimanyway?
AndIfiredthesilverbulletintomyarmagain,andfellbackonthefloatingraft.AndIsawtheanswerintheraftersoverhead.
AndIwassureIwouldunderstanditwithalittlemoredope,andalittlemore,andalittlemore.
IwoketoseeafaceglaringatmeandspeakingfiercelyinalanguageIcouldn’tunderstand.Itwasanuglyface,ascowlingface,definedbydeeplinesthatdescendedincurvedchinesfromhiseyesandnoseandmouth.Thenthefacehadhands,stronghands,andIfoundmyselfliftedfromtheraftofmybedandproppedunsteadilyonmyfeet.
“Youcome!”NazeergrowledinEnglish.“Youcome,now!”
“Fuck…”Isaidslowly,pausingformaximumeffect,“…off.”
“Youcome!”herepeated.Theangerinhimwassoclosetothesurfacethathetrembledwithit,andopenedhismouthunconsciouslytobarehisteethinanunderbite.
“No,”Isaid,turningtothebedoncemore.“You…go!”
Hepulledmearoundtofacehimagain.Therewasenormouspowerinhisarms.Heclampedthemetalgrapplesofhishandsonmyarms.
“Now!Youcome!”
I’dbeenthreemonthsintheroomatGupta-ji’s.Theywerethreemonthsofheroineveryday,andfoodeveryotherday,andtheonlyexerciseashortwalktothetoiletandback.Ididn’tknowitthen,butI’dlosttwelvekilos-thebestthirtypoundsofmuscleonmybody.Iwasthinandweakandstillstupidondrugs.
“Okay,”Isaid,feigningasmile.“Okay,letmego,willya.Ihavetogetmystuff.”
HerelaxedhisgripasInoddedtowardthelittletablewheremywallet,watch,andpassportrested.Gupta-jiandShilpawaitedinthecorridorbeyond.Igatheredupthepossessionsandputthemintomypockets,pretendingtoco-operatewithNazeer.WhenIjudgedthemomenttoberight,Iswungroundathimwithanoverhandright.Itshould’vehithim.Itwould’vehithimwhenIwashealthyandsober.Imissedhimcompletely,andthrewmyselfoffbalance.Nazeerdroveafistintomysolarplexus,justundertheheart.Idoubledover,windedandhelpless,butmykneeslockedstifflyandmylegswouldn’tfold.Heraisedmyhead,withhislefthandlockedintoapatchofmyhair,pulledhisrightfistbackatshoulderheight,hesitatedintheprecisionofhisaim,andthenrammedhisfistintomyjaw.Thefullforceofhisneck,shoulders,andbackwereintheblow.IsawGupta-ji’slipspoutandhiseyessquintinawince,andthenhisfaceexplodedinashowerofsparksthatlefttheworlddarkerthanacavefullofsleepingbats.
ItwastheonlytimeinmylifeIwaseverknockedoutcold.ItseemedthatIwasfallingforever,andthegroundwasimpossiblyfaraway.AfteratimeIwasdimlyawareofmovement,floatingthroughspace,andIthought,It’sokay,thisisalladream,adrugdream,andI’mgoingtowakeupanyminutenow,andtakemoredrugs.
ThenIcamedownwitharumpledcrashontheraftoncemore.Buttheraft-bedthatI’dfloatedonforthreelongmonthshadchanged.Itwasdifferent,somehow-softandsmooth.Andtherewasanewandwonderfulsmell,agorgeousperfume.ItwasCoco.Iknewitwell.ItwasKarla.ItwastheperfumeonKarla’sskin.
Nazeerhadcarriedmeoverhisshoulderallthewaydowntheflightsofstairsandoutintothestreet,wherehe’ddumpedmeintothebackseatofataxi.Karlawasthere.Myheadrestedinherlap.AndIopenedmyeyestolookintoherlovelyface.Andhergreeneyeslookedbackatmewithcompassionandconcernandsomethingelse.Iclosedmyeyes,andinthemovingdarknessIknewwhatitwas,thatsomethingelseinhereyes.Itwasdisgust.Shewasdisgustedbymyweakness,myheroinhabit,mystinkofneglectandself-indulgence.ThenIfeltherhandsonmyface,anditwaslikecrying,andherfingersmovingthecaressacrossmycheekwerethetears.
Whenthetaxifinallystopped,Nazeercarriedmeuptwoflightsofstepsaseasilyashemight’veluggedasackofflour.Icametoconsciousnessagaindrapedoverhisshoulder,lookingdownatKarlaassheclimbedthestepsbehindus.Itriedtosmileather.Weenteredabighousethroughabackdoorthatledtoakitchen.Beyondthelarge,modernkitchen,wecameintoanenormous,open-planlivingroom,withonewallofglassthatlookedoutuponagoldenbeachandthedarksapphiresea.
Flippingmeoverhisshoulder,NazeerloweredmewithmoregentlenessthanI’dexpectedtoapileofcushionsneartheglassfeaturewall.ThelasthitI’dinjected,justbeforehe’dkidnappedmefromGupta-ji’s,wasabigdose.Toobig.Iwasgroggyandlapsing.Theurgetoclosemyeyesandsurrendertothestonesweptovermeinalmostirresistible,immersiblewaves.
“Don’ttrytogetup,”Karlasaid,kneelingbesidemeandwashingmyfacewithawettowel.
Ilaughed,becausestandingwasthelastthingonmymind.InthelaughIfeltthesoreness,dimly,throughthestone,onthepointofmychinandthehingeofmyjaw.
“What’sgoingon,Karla?”Iasked,hearingmyvoicecrackandwarbleasIspoke.Threemonthsofuttersilenceandsoul-foghaddistortedmyspeechwithdysphasiclapsesandcreakingfumbles.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?WhatamIdoinghere?”
“DidyouthinkIwouldleaveyouthere?”
“Howdidyouknow?Howdidyoufindme?”
“YourfriendKhaderbhaifoundyou.Heaskedmetobringyouhere.”
“Heaskedyou!”
“Yes,”shesaid,staringintomyeyeswithsuchintensitythatitcutthroughthestonelikesunrisepiercingthemorning’shazymist.
“Whereishe?”
Shesmiled,andthesmilewassadbecauseitwasthewrongquestion.Iknowthatnow.I’mnotstonednow.Thatwasmychancetoknowthewholeofthetruth,orasmuchofthetruthassheknew.IfI’daskedhertherightquestion,shewould’vetoldmethetruth.Thatwasthepowerbehindherintensestare.Shewasreadytotellmeeverything.Shemight’veevenlovedme,orbeguntoloveme.ButIhadn’taskedtherightquestion.Ihadn’taskedabouther.I’daskedabouthim.
“Idon’tknow,”sheanswered,raisingherselfwithherhandstostandbesideme.“Hewassupposedtobehere.Ithinkhe’llbeheresoon.Ican’twait,though.Ihavetogo.”
“_What?”Isatup,andtriedtopushthestonecurtainsasideinordertoseeher,tospeaktoher,tokeepherwithme.
“Ihavetogo,”sherepeated,walkingbrisklytothedoor.Nazeerwaitedforherthere,histhickarmsjuttingoutfromtheswollentrunkofhisbody.“Ican’thelpit.I’vegotalotofthingstodobeforeIleave.”
“Leave?Whatdoyoumean,leave?”
“I’mleavingBombayagain.I’vegotsomework.It’simportant,andI…well,Ihavetodoit.I’llbebackinaboutsixoreightweeks.
I’llseeyouthen,maybe.”
“Butthisiscrazy.Idon’tgetit.Youshould’veleftmethere,ifyou’reonlygoingtoleavemenow.”
“Look,”shesaid,smilingpatiently,“Ijustgotbackyesterday,andI’mtryingnottostay.I’mnotevengoingbacktoLeopold’s.
IsawDidierthismorning-hesayshello,bytheway-butthat’sit.I’mnotstickingaround.IagreedtohelpgetyououtofthatlittlesuicidepactyouhadgoingwithyourselfatGupta-ji’s.
Nowyou’rehere,you’resafe,andIhavetogo.”
SheturnedandspoketoNazeer.TheywerespeakingUrdu,andIunderstoodonlyeverythirdorfourthwordoftheirconversation.
Helaughed,listeningtoher,andturnedtolookatmewithhiscustomarycontempt.
“Whatdidhesay?”Iaskedherwhentheyfellsilent.
“Youdon’twanttoknow.”
“YesIdo.”
“Hedoesn’tthinkyou’llmakeit,”shereplied.“Itoldhimthatyou’lldocoldturkeyhere,andbewaitingformewhenIcomebackinacoupleofmonths.Hedoesn’tthinkso.Hesaysyou’llrunoutofheretogetafixthefirstminutetheturkeybegins.
Imadeabetwithhimthatyou’dmakeit.”
“Howmuchdidyoubet?”
“Athousandbucks.”
“Athousandbucks,”Imused.Itwasanimpressivestake,againsttheodds.
“Yes.It’sallthecashhehas-akindofnestegg.He’sbettingitallthatyou’llbreakdown.Hesaysyou’reaweakman.That’swhyyoutakedrugs.”
“Whatdoyousay?”
Shelaughed,anditwassoraretoseeandhearherlaughthatItookthosebright,roundsyllablesofhappinessintomelikefood,likedrink,likethedrug.Despitethestoneandthesickness,IknewwithperfectunderstandingthatthegreatesttreasureandpleasureIwouldeverknowwasinthatlaugh;tomakethatwomanlaugh,andfeelthelaughterbubblingfromherlipsagainstmyface,myskin.
“Itoldhim,”shesaid,“thatagoodmanisasstrongastherightwomanneedshimtobe.”Thenshewasgone,andIclosedmyeyes,andanhouroradaylaterIopenedthemtofindKhaderbhaisittingbesideme.
“Utnahain,”IheardNazeer’svoicesay.He’sawake.
Iwokeunwell.Iwokealertandcoldandneedingheroin.Mymouthwasfilthyandmybodyachedeverywhereatonce.
“Hmmm,”Khadermurmured.“Youhavethepainalready.”
Ipulledmyselfuponthepillowsandlookedaroundtheroom.Itwasthebeginningofevening,andnight’slongshadowwascreepingacrossthesandybeachbeyondthewindow.Nazeersatonapieceofcarpetneartheentrancetothekitchen.Khaderwasdressedintheloosepantaloons,shirt,andtunic-vestofthePathans.Theclothesweregreen,thefavouritecolouroftheProphet.Helookedolder,somehow,afterjustthosefewmonths.
Healsolookedfitter,andmorecalmanddeterminedthanI’deverseenhim.
“Doyouneedfood?”heaskedwhenIstaredathimwithoutspeaking.“Doyouwanttotakeyourbath?Thereiseverythinghere.Youcanbathasoftenasyoulike.Youcaneatfood-thereisplenty.Youcanputonnewclothes.Ihavethemforyou.”
“WhathappenedtoAbdullah?”Idemanded.
“Youmustgetwell.”
“WhatthefuckhappenedtoAbdullah?”Ishouted,myvoicebreaking.
Nazeerwatchedme.Hewasoutwardlycalm,butIknewthathewasreadytospring
“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”Khaderaskedgently,avoidingmyeyes,andnoddinghisheadslowlyashestaredatthecarpetbetweenhiscrossedknees.
“WasheSapna?”
“No,”hereplied,turningtomeetmyhardstare.“Iknowthepeoplesaythis,butIgiveyoumywordthathewasnotSapna.”
Iexhaledafullbreathinanexhaustedsighofrelief.Ifelttearsstingingmyeyes,andIbittheinsideofmycheektokillthem.
“WhydidtheysayhewasSapna?”
“Abdullah’senemiesmadethepolicebelievethathewas.”
“Whatenemies?Whoarethey?”
“MenfromIran.Enemiesfromhiscountry.”
Irememberedthefight;themysteriousfight.AbdullahandI-we’dfoughtwithagroupofIranianmenonthestreet.Itriedtorememberotherdetailsfromthatday,butIcouldn’tthinkpastthesharp,guiltytwistofregretthatI’dneveraskedAbdullahwhothemenwereorwhywe’dfoughtthem.
“Where’stherealSapna?”
“Heisdead.Ifoundtheman-therealSapna.Nowheisdead.
Thatmuchisdone,forAbdullah.”
Irelaxedagainstthecushions,andclosedmyeyesforamoment.
Mynosewasbeginningtorun,andmythroatwascloggedandsore.
I’dbuiltupabighabitinthosethreemonths-threegramsofpureThai-whiteheroineveryday.Theturkeywascomingonfast,andIknewthatitwouldbetwoweeksinHell’spunishmentunit.
“Why?”Iaskedhim,afteratime.
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Whydidyoufindme?Whydidyouhavehim-Nazeer-bringmehere?”
“Youworkforme,”heanswered,smiling.“Andnow,Ihaveajobofworkforyoutodo.”
“Well,I’mafraidI’mnotuptoit,justattheminute.”
Thecrampswerecreepingintomystomach.Igroaned,andlookedaway.
“Oh,yes,”heagreed.“Youmustbewellfirst.Butthen,inthreeorfourmonths,youwillbetherightmantodothisjobforme.”
“What…whatkindofajob?”
“Itisamission.Akindofholymission,youmightcallit.Doyouknowhowtorideahorse?”
“Ahorse?Idon’tknowanythingabouthorses.IfIcandothejobonamotorcycle-whenIgetwell,_ifIgetwell-I’myourman.”
“Nazeerwillteachyoutoride.Heis,orhewas,thebesthorsemaninavillageofmenwhoarethebesthorsemeninNangarharprovince.Therearehorsesstablednearhere,andyoucanlearntorideonthebeach.”
“Learntoride…”Imuttered,wonderinghowIwasgoingtosurvivethenexthour,andthehourafterthat,andtheworsethatwouldcome.
“Oh,yes,Linbaba,”hesaid,reachingoutwiththesmileandtouchingmyshoulderwithhispalm.Iflinchedatthetouch,andshivered,butthewarmthofhishandseemedtoenterme,andIwasstill.“YoucannotreachKandaharinanyotherwaybutbyhorse,atthistime,becausetheroadsareallminedandbombed.
Soyousee,whenyougowithmymentothewarinAfghanistan,youmustknowhowtorideahorse.”
“Afghanistan?”
“Yes.”
“What…whatthehellmakesyouthinkI’mgoingtoAfghanistan?”
“Idon’tknowifyouwilldoitornot,”herepliedwithwhatseemedtobegenuinesadness.“Iamgoingonthismissionmyself.
ToAfghanistan-myhome,thatIhavenotseenformorethanfiftyyears.AndIaminvitingyou-Iamaskingyou-togowithme.Thechoice,ofcourse,isyourstomake.Itisadangerousjob.Thatmuchiscertain.Iwillnotthinklessaboutyou,ifyoudecidenottogowithme.”
“Whyme?”
“Ineedagora,aforeigner,whoisnotafraidtobreakalargenumberofinternationallaws,andwhocanpassforanAmerican.
Wherewewillgotherearemanyrivalclans,andtheyhavefoughtwithoneanotherforhundredsofyears.Theyhavelongtraditionsofraidingoneanotherandtakingwhatevertheycanasplunderontheirraids.Onlytwothingsunitethem,justatthistime-loveforAllah,andhatredfortheRussianinvaders.Atthemoment,theirchiefalliesagainsttheRussiansaretheAmericans.TheyarefightingwithAmericanmoneyandAmericanweapons.IfIhaveanAmericanwithme,theywillleaveusalone,andletuspass,withoutmolestingusorstealingmorethanareasonableamountfromus.”
“Whydon’tyougetanAmerican-arealone,Imean?”
“Itried.Icouldnotfindonecrazyenoughtotaketherisk.
ThatiswhyIneedyou.”
“WhatarewesmugglingonthismissiontoAfghanistan?”
“Theusualthingsthatonesmugglesintoawar-guns,explosives,passports,money,gold,machineparts,andmedicines.Itwillbeaninterestingjourney.Ifwepassthroughtheheavilyarmedclanswhowouldliketotakewhatwehave,wewilldeliverourgoodstoaunitofmujahed-dinfighterswhoareputtingsiegetoKandaharcity.TheyhavebeenfightingtheRussiansinthesameplacefortwoyears,andtheyneedthesupplies.”
Questionswrithedinmyshiveringmind,hundredsofthem,butthecoldturkeywascripplingme.Cold,greasysweatfromthestrugglesmotheredmyskin.Thewords,whentheycameatlast,wererushedandfaltering.“Whyareyoudoingthis?WhyKandahar?Whythere?”
“Themujaheddin-themenatthesiegeofKandahar-theyaremypeople,frommyvillage.TheyarefromNazeer’svillagealso.
Theyarefightingajihad,aholywar,todrivetheRussianinvadersoutofthehomeland.Wehavehelpedtheminmanyways,uptothistime.Nowitistimetohelpthemwithguns,andwithmyblood,ifitisnecessary.”
Helookedatthesicknesstremblingacrossmyface,andcuttingfacetsfrommyeyes.Hesmiledagain,pressinghisfingersintomyshoulderuntilthatpain,thattouch,histouch,wasallIfeltforamoment.
“Firstyoumustbewell,”hesaid,releasingthepressureofhisfingersandtouchinghispalmtomyface.“Allahbewithyou,myson.Allahyafazak!”
Whenheleftme,Iwenttothebathroom.Stomachcrampstabbedmewitheagle’sclaws,andthentwistedmyinsideswithtalonsofagony.Diarrhoeashookmewithconvulsivespasms.Iwashedmyself,shiveringsoviolentlythatmyteethclatteredtogether.
Ilookedinthemirrorandsawmyeyes,thepupilssolargethatthewholeiriswasblack.Whenthelightcomesback,whentheheroinstopsandtheturkeystartsandthelightreturns,itrushesinthroughtheblackfunnelsoftheeyes.
Wearingatowelaroundmywaist,Iwalkedbacktothebigmainroom.Ilookedthin.Iwasstooped,andshivering,andmoaninginvoluntarily.Nazeerlookedmeupanddown,withasneercurlinghisthickupperlip.Hehandedmeapileofcleanclothes.TheywereexactcopiesofKhader’sgreenAfghancostume.Idressed,shakingandtremblingandlosingmybalanceafewtimes.Nazeerwatchedme,hisknottyfistsballedathiships.Thesneerrippledhislipliketheopeningridgesofaclamshell.Hiseverygesturewassoloudandbroadthatithadtheexaggerationofpantomime,buthisdarkeyeswerefiercewithmenace.IsuddenlyrealisedthatheremindedmeoftheJapaneseactorToshiroMifune.Hewasanugly,troll-likecaricatureofMifune.
“DoyouknowToshiroMifune?”Iaskedhimthroughadesperate,pain-smearedlaugh.“YouknowMifune?Huh?”
Hisanswerwastowalktothefrontdoorofthehouseandthrowitopen.Hepulledsomefifty-rupeenotesfromhispocket,andhurledthemontothefloor.
“Jaa,bahinchudh!”hesnarled,pointingouttheopendoor.Go,sister-fucker!Istaggeredtothepileofcushionsheapedagainstthegreatwindowandcollapsedthere.Ipulledablanketovermyself,cringingintheflayingwrenchandcrampofthecraving.Nazeerclosedthedoorofthehouseandtookuphispositiononthepatchofcarpet,sittingcross-leggedandstraight-backedashewatchedme.
Weallcopewithanxietyandstress,toonedegreeoranother,withthehelpofacocktailofchemicalsproducedinthebodyandreleasedinthebrain.Chiefamongthemistheendorphingroup.
Theendorphinsarepeptideneurotransmittersthathavepainrelievingproperties.Anxietyandstressandpainbringontheendorphinresponseasanaturalcopingmechanism.Whenwetakeanyoftheopiates-morphineoropiumorheroin,inparticular-thebodystopsproducingendorphins.Whenwestoptakingopiates,there’salagofbetweenfiveandfourteendaysbeforethebodybeginsanewendorphinproductioncycle.Inthemeanwhile,inthatblack,torturedcrawlspaceofonetotwoweekswithoutheroinandwithoutendorphins,welearnwhatanxietyandstressandpainreallyare.
What’sitlike,Karlaaskedmeonce,coldturkeyoffheroin?Itriedtoexplainit.Thinkabouteverytimeinyourlifethatyou’veeverbeenafraid,reallyafraid.Someonesneaksupbehindyouwhenyouthinkyou’realone,andshoutstofrightenyou.Thegangofthugsclosesinaroundyou.Youfallfromagreatheightinadream,oryoustandontheveryedgeofasteepcliff.
Someoneholdsyouunderwaterandyoufeelthebreathgone,andyouscramble,fight,andclawyourwaytothesurface.Youlosecontrolofthecarandseethewallrushingintoyoursoundlessshout.Thenaddthemallup,allthosechest-tighteningterrors,andfeelthemallatonce,allatthesametime,hourafterhour,anddayafterday.Andthinkofeverypainyou’veeverknown-theburnwithhotoil,thesharpsliverofglass,thebrokenbone,thegravelrashwhenyoufellontheroughroadinwinter,theheadacheandtheearacheandthetoothache.Thenaddthemallup,allthosegroin-squeezing,stomach-tensingshrieksofpain,andfeelthemallatonce,hourafterhour,anddayafterday.Thenthinkofeveryanguishyou’veeverknown.Rememberthedeathofalovedone.Rememberalover’srejection.Recallyourfeelingsoffailureandshameandunspeakablybitterremorse.Andaddthemallup,alltheheart-stabbinggriefsandmiseries,andfeelthemallatonce,hourafterhour,anddayafterday.That’scoldturkey.Coldturkeyoffheroinislifewiththeskintornaway.
Theassaultofanxietyontheunprotectedmind,thebrainwithoutnaturalendorphins,makesmenandwomenmad.Everyjunkiegoingthroughturkeyismad.Themadnessissofierceandcruelthatsomedieofit.Andinthetemporaryinsanityofthatskinned,excruciatedworld,wecommitcrimes.Andifwesurvive,yearslater,andbecomewell,ourhealthyrecollectionofthosecrimesleavesuswretched,bewildered,andasself-disgustedasmenandwomenwhobetraytheircomradesandcountryundertorture.
Twofulldaysandnightsintothetorment,IknewIwasn’tgoingtomakeit.Mostofthevomitingandthediarrhoeahadpassed,butthepainandanxietieswereworse,muchworse,everyminute.
Beneaththescreaminginmybloodtherewasacalm,insistentvoice:Youcanstopthis…youcanfixthis…youcanstopthis…takethemoney…getafix…youcanstopthispain…
Nazeer’sbambooandcoconut-fibrecotwasinthefarcorneroftheroom.Ilurchedtowardit,watchedcloselybytheburlyAfghan,whowasstillsittingonhismatnearthedoor.Tremblingandmoaningwithpain,Idraggedthecotclosertothegreatwindowthatlookedoutonthesea.Itookupacottonsheetandbegantotearatitwithmyteeth.Itgavewayinafewplaces,andIrippeditalongthelength,tearingoffstripsofcloth.
Franticinmymovementsandclosetopanic,Ihurledtwothick,embroideredquiltsontotheropebedforamattress,andlaydownonit.Usingtwoofthestrips,Itiedmyanklestothebed.Withathirdstrip,Isecuredmyleftwrist.ThenIlaydown,andturnedmyheadtolookatNazeer.Iheldouttheremainingstrip,andaskedhimwithmyeyestobindmyarmtothebed.Itwasthefirsttimethatwe’devermetoneanother’seyesinanequallyhoneststare.
Herosefromhissquareofcarpetandwalkedtowardme,holdingthestare.Hetookthestripofclothfrommyhandandboundmyrightwristtotheframeofthebed.Ashoutoftrapped,panicfearescapedfrommyopenmouth,andanother.Ibitdownonmytongue,bitingthroughthefleshatthesidesuntilbloodranpastmylips.Nazeernoddedslowly.Hetoreanotherthickstripfromthesheetandtwirleditintoacorkscrewtube.Slidingitbetweenmyteeth,hetiedthegagbehindmyhead.AndIbitdownonthedevil’stail.AndIscreamed.AndIturnedmyheadtoseemyownreflectiontiedtothenightinthewindow.AndforawhileIwasModena,waitingandwatchingandscreamingwithmyeyes.TwodaysandnightsIwastiedtothebed.Nazeernursedmewithtendernessandconstancy.Hewasalwaysthere.EverytimeIopenedmyeyes,Ifelthisroughhandonmybrow,wipingthesweatandthetearsintomyhair.Everytimethelightningstrikeofcramptwistedalegorarmormystomach,hewasthere,massagingwarmthintotheknotofpain.EverytimeIwhimperedorscreamedintothegag,heheldmyeyeswithhis,willingmetoendureandsucceed.HeremovedthegagwhenIchokedonatrickleofvomitormyblockednoseletnoairpass,buthewasastrongmanandheknewthatIdidn’twantmyscreamstobeheard.WhenInoddedmyhead,hereplacedthegagandtieditfast.
Andthen,whenIknewthatIwaseitherstrongenoughtostayortooweaktoleave,InoddedtoNazeer,blinkingmyeyes,andheremovedthegagforthelasttime.Onebyoneheuntiedthebondsatmywristsandankles.Hebroughtmeabrothmadefromchickenandbarleyandtomatoes,unspiced,exceptforsalt.ItwastherichestandmostdeliciousthingIevertastedinmylife.Hefedittome,spoonbyspoon.Afteranhour,whenIfinishedthelittlebowl,hesmiledatmeforthefirsttime,andthatsmilewaslikesunlightonsearocksaftersummerrain.
Coldturkeygoesonforabouttwoweeks,butthefirstfivedaysaretheworst.Ifyoucangetthroughthefirstfivedays,ifyoucancrawlanddragyourselfintothatsixthmorningwithoutdrugs,youknowyou’reclean,andyouknowyou’llmakeit.Everyhour,forthenexteighttotendays,youfeelalittlebetterandalittlestronger.Thecrampsfade,thenauseapasses,thefeverandchillssubside.Afterawhile,theworstofitissimplythatyoucan’tsleep.Youlieonthebedatnight,twistingandwrithingindiscomfort,andsleepnevercomes.Inthoselastdaysandverylongnightsoftheturkey,IbecameaStandingBaba:Ineversatorlaydown,alldayandallnight,untilexhaustioncollapsedmylegsatlastandIsankintosleep.
Anditpasses,theturkeypasses,andyouemergefromthecobrabiteofheroinaddictionlikeanysurvivorfromanydisaster:dazed,woundedforever,andgladtobealive.
Nazeertookmyfirstsarcasticjokes,twelvedaysaftertheturkeybegan,asthecueformytrainingtocommence.FromthesixthdayI’dbeenwalkingwithhimaslightexercise,andforthefreshair.Thefirstofthosewalkshadbeenslowandhalting,andI’dreturnedtothehouseafterfifteenminutes.BythetwelfthdayIwaswalkingthelengthofthebeachwithhim,hopingtotiremyselfsomuchthatIcouldsleep.
Finally,hetookmetothestablewhereKhader’shorseswerekept.Thestablewasaconvertedboathouse,onestreetawayfromthebeach.Thehorsesweretrainedforbeginningriders,andcarriedtouristsupanddownthebeachinthehighseason.Thewhitegeldingandgreymarewerelarge,docileanimals.WetookthemfromKhader’sstable-masterandledthemdowntotheflat,hard-packedsandofthebeach.
There’snoanimalintheworldwithadeepersenseofparodythanahorse.Acatcanmakeyoulookclumsy,andadogcanmakeyoulookstupid,butonlyahorsecanmakeyoulookbothatthesametime.Andthen,withnothingmorethantheflickofatailoracasualstomponyourfoot,itletsyouknowthatitdiditonpurpose.Somepeopleknowfromthefirstcontactwiththeanimalthatthey’llridewell,andbondwiththebeast.I’mnotoneofthosepeople.Afriendofminehasastrange,antimagneticeffectonmachines:watchesstoponherwrist,radioreceiverscrackle,andphotocopymachinesglitchwhenevershe’snear.Myrelationshipwithhorsesissomethinglikethat.
ThethicksetAfghancuppedhishandstoboostmeontothegelding’sback,noddinghisheadformetoclimbup,andwinkingencouragingly.Iputmyfootintohishandsandsprangupontothewhitehorse,butintheinstantthatIsatonitsbackthepreviouslymeek,well-trainedcreaturehurledmeoffwithaprodigious,archingkick.IsoaredoverNazeer’sshoulderandlandedwithathumponthesand.Thegeldinggallopedawaydownthebeachwithoutme.Nazeerstaredafterit,gape-mouthed.Theanimalwasonlycalmedandreturnedtomypresencewhenhefetchedablindingbag,andplaceditoveritshead.
ThatwasthebeginningofNazeer’sslow,reluctantacceptanceofthefactthatIwouldneverbeanythingotherthantheworsthorsemanheknew.Thedisappointmentshould’veplungedmedeeperintothewellofhiscontempt,butinfactitprovokedanoppositereaction.Intheweeksthatfollowedhebecamesolicitousandeventender-heartedtowardme.ForNazeer,thatstumblingineptitudewithhorseswasaterribleaffliction,aspitiableinamanasapainfullydebilitatingillness.Andevenatmybest,whenImanagedtoremainonthehorseforminutesatatime,andworkthebeastinacirclebyflappingmylegsatitssidesandyankingwithbothhandsatthebridle,mygracelessnessmovedhimclosetotears.
Nevertheless,Iperseveredwiththelessons,andIexercisedeveryday.Iworkedmywayuptotwentysetsofthirtypush-ups,withaminuterestbetweeneachset.Ifollowedthepush-upseverydaywithfivehundredsit-ups,afive-kilometrerun,andaforty-minuteswiminthesea.Afteralmostthreemonthsoftheroutine,Iwasfitandstrong.
Nazeerwantedmetogainsomeexperienceatridingoverroughterrain,soIarrangedwithChandraMehtaforustovisittheridingrangeattheFilmCitymoviestudioranch.Manyofthefeaturefilmshadhorse-and-ridersequences.Theteamsofhorseswerecaredforbysquadsofmenwholivedonthevasttractsofhillyland,andwereoncallforstuntandactionscenes.Theanimalsweresuperblywelltrainedbut,barelytwominutesafterNazeerandIhadmountedthebrownmaresassignedtous,myhorsethrewmeintoastackofclaypots.Nazeertookupthereinsofmyhorseandsatinhissaddle,shakinghisheadpityingly.
“Hey,greatstunt,yaar!”oneofthestuntmencalledout.Therewerefiveofthemridingwithus,andtheyalllaughed.Twomenjumpeddowntohelpmeup.
Twofallslater,asIclimbedwearilyintothesaddle,Iheardafamiliarvoice.Ilookedaroundtoseeagroupofriders.AttheirheadwasacowboylookinglikeEmilianoZapata,withablackhathangingonhisbackfromaleatherthong.
“Ifuckin’knewitwasyou!”Vikramshouted.Hedrewhishorseupclosetomineandshookmyhandwarmly.HiscompanionsjoinedNazeerandourstuntriders,andtheytrottedaway,leavingusalone.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Iownthefuckin’place,man!”Hespreadhisarmswide.“Well,notexactly.Lettieboughtashare,asapartner,withLisa.”
“MyLisa?”
Heraisedoneeyebrowquizzically.
“YourLisa?”
“YouknowwhatImean.”
“Sure,”hesaid,grinningwidely.“HerandLettie,youknow,they’rerunningthatcastingagencytogether-theoneyouguysstartedup.Andthey’redoin’allright,man.They’regoodtogether.Idecidedtogetinonitaswell.Yourfriend,ChandraMehta,toldmetherewasasharegoinginthestuntstable.Hey,it’sanaturalforme,wouldn’tyousay?”
“Oh,nodoubtaboutthat,Vikram.”
“So,Iputsomedamnmoneyinit,andnowIcomeouthereeveryweek.I’manextrainafuckin’movietomorrow!Comeandwatchmegetshot,brother!”
“It’satemptingoffer,”Isaid,laughingwithhim.“ButI’mleavingtownforawhiletomorrow.”
“You’releaving?Forhowlong?”
“Idon’tknow,exactly.Amonth,maybelonger.”
“Thenyou’llbeback?”
“Sure.Keepavideoofthestunt.WhenIgetback,we’llgetstoned,andwatchyougetkilledinslowmotion.”
“Ha!Yougotadeal!Comeon!Let’sridetogether,man!”
“No,no!”Ishouted.“I’llnevergetthishorsetoridewithyou,Vikram.I’mtheworstrideryoueversaw.I’vealreadyfallenoffthisonethreetimes.IfIcangetitto_walkinastraightlineI’llbehappy.”
“Comeon,brotherLin!Itellyouwhat,I’lllendyoumyhat.Itneverfails,man.It’saluckyhat.You’rehavingtroublebecauseyougotnohat.”
“I…Idon’tthinkthehat’sgonnacoverit,man.”
“It’safuckin’magichat,man,I’mtellingyou!”
“Youhaven’tseenmeride.”
“Andyouhaven’twornthehat.Thehatcanfixanything.Plus,you’reagora.Nooffencetoyourwhiteness,yaar,buttheseareIndianhorses,man.TheyjustneedtogetalittleIndianstylefromyou,that’sall.YouspeakinHinditothem,anddancealittle,thenyou’llsee.”
“Idon’tthinkso.”
“Sure,man.Comeon,getdownanddancewithme.”
“What?”
“Comeonanddancewithme.”
“I’mnotdancingforthehorses,Vikram,”Ideclared,withasmuchdignityandsincerityasIcouldpackintothebizarrestringofwords.
“Sureyouwill!Yougetdownwithmenow,anddancealittleIndianmagic.Thehorseshaveto_seethatcool,Indianmotherfuckeryougotinsideyourtight,whiteexterior,man.Iswear,thehorseswillloveyou,andyou’llridelikeClintfuckin’Eastwood!”
“Idon’twanttoridelikeClintfuckin’Eastwood.”
“Yes,youdo!”helaughed.“Everybodydoes.”
“No,I’mnotdoingit.”
“Comeon.”
“Noway.”Heclimbeddown,andbegantoprisemybootsfromthestirrups.
Exasperated,Iclimbeddownandstoodnexttohim,facingthetwohorses.
“Likethis!”Vikramsaid,shakinghishipsandsteppingoutinamoviedanceroutine.Hebegantosing,clappinghishandsintime.“Comeon,yaar!PutsomeIndiaintoit,man.Don’tgoallfuckin’Europeanonme.”
TherearethreethingsthatnoIndianmancanresist:abeautifulface,abeautifulsong,andaninvitationtodance.IwasIndianenough,inmycrazywhiteway,todancewithVikram,evenifitwassimplythatIcouldn’tbeartoseehimdancealone.Shakingmyhead,andlaughingdespitemyself,Ijoinedinhisroutine.Heguidedmethroughthedance,addingnewstepsuntilwehadtheturnsandwalksandgesturesinperfecttimetogether.
Thehorseswatcheduswiththatpeculiarlyequinemixofwhiteeyedtimorousnessandsnortingcondescension.Still,wedancedandsangtotheminthatgrassywildernessofrollinghills,underablueskyasdryasthesmokefromacampfireinthedesert.
Andwhenthedancewasover,VikramspoketomyhorseinHindi,lettingitsnuffleathisblackhat.Hepassedthehattomethen,andtoldmetowearit.Islippeditovermyheadandweclimbedintothesaddles.
Damnifitdidn’twork.Thehorsescanteredoff,andgentlybrokeintoagallop.Forthefirstandonlytimeinmylife,Ialmostlookedlikeahorseman.Iknewtheelation,foragloriousquarterhour,offearlesssynergywiththegreat-heartedanimal.
CloselyfollowingVikram’slead,Iflewatsteepinclinesandconqueredthemtoplummetoverthesummit,andhurtledownwardintocurvingloopsofwindandscatteredshrubs.Westretchedoutoverflattergrasslandsineffortless,lungingsnatchesattheground,andthenNazeerjoineduswithhisridersatthegallop.
Foralittlewhile,foramoment,wewereaswild-willedandfreeasthehorsescouldteachustobe.
IwasstilllaughingaboutitandchatteringtoNazeerwhenweclimbedthestairsandenteredthehouseonthebeachtwohourslater.IwalkedmyexcitedsmilethroughthedoorandsawKarlastandingbythelongfeature-wallwindowandstaringoutatthesea.Nazeergreetedherwithgrufffondness.Atinybrightsmilerushedfromhisbrowtohischin,tryingtohidebehindhisscowl.Heseizedalitrebottleofwater,aboxofmatches,andafewsheetsofnewspaperfromthekitchen,andleftthehouse.“He’sleavingusalone,”shesaid.
“Iknow.He’llmakeafire,downonthebeach.Hedoesthatsometimes.”
Iwalkedtoher,andkissedher.Itwasabriefkiss,almostshy,butalltheloveinmyheartwasinit.Whenourlipsparted,weheldoneanotherclose,bothofuslookingatthesea.AfterawhilewesawNazeer,downatthebeach,collectingdriftwoodanddryscrapsforafire.Hewedgedtheballedupnewspaperbetweenthetwigsandsticks,litthefire,andsatdownbesideit,facingthesea.Hewasn’tcold.Therewasawarmbreezeleaninginonahotnight.Helitthefiretoshowus,asnightrodethewavesacrossthesettingsun,thathewasstillthere,onthebeach;thatwewerestillalone.
“IlikeNazeer,”shesaid,herheadagainstmythroatandchest.
“He’sverykindandgood-hearted.”
Thatwastrue.Iknewthat.I’ddiscoveredit,atlast,thehardway.Buthowhadshecometoknowitfromsuchalittleacquaintanceofhim?Oneoftheworstofmymanyfailings,inthoseexileyears,wasmyblindnesstothegoodinpeople:IneverknewhowmuchgoodnesstherewasinamanorawomanuntilIowedthemmorethanIcouldrepay.PeoplelikeKarlasawgoodnesswithaglance,whileIstared,andstared,andtoooftensawnothingpastthescowlorbitteringeye.
WelookeddownatthedarkeningbeachandatNazeer,sittingstraight-backedbesidehislittlefire.OneofmysmallvictoriesoverNazeer,whenIwasstillweakanddependentonhisstrength,hadbeenwithlanguage.I’dlearnedphrasesinhislanguagefasterthanhe’dlearnedtheminmine.MyfluencyhadforcedhimtocommunicatewithmeinUrdumostofthetime.WhenhetriedtospeakEnglish,thewordscameoutinawkward,truncatedcouplets,top-heavywithmeaningsandtotteringonsmallfeetofbluntsense.ItauntedhimoftenaboutthecrudityofhisEnglish,exaggeratingmyconfusionanddemandingthatherepeathimself,thathestumblefromonecrypticphrasetoanotheruntilhecursedmeinUrduandPashto,andwithdrewintosilence.
Yet,intruth,hisscissoredEnglishwasalwayseloquent,andoftenacadencedpoetry.Itwasabbreviated,tobesure,butthatwasbecausethesuperfluoushadbeenhackedfromit,andwhatremainedwasapureandpreciselanguageofhisown-somethingmorethanslogansandlessthanproverbs.Againstmywill,andunknowntohim,I’dbeguntorepeatsomeofhisphrases.Hesaidtomeonce,whilegroominghisgreymare,Allhorsegood,allmannotgood.Foryearsafterward,wheneverIencounteredcrueltyandtreacheryandotherkindsofselfishness,especiallymyown,IfoundmyselfrepeatingNazeer’sphrase:Allhorsegood,allmannotgood.Andonthatnight,holdingKarla’sheartagainstmyownaswewatchedhisfiredanceonthesand,IrememberedanotherofhisEnglishiterations.Nolove,isnolife,heusedtosay.Nolove,isnolife.
IheldKarlaasifholdinghercouldhealme,andwedidn’tmakeloveuntilnightlitthelaststarinourwidewindowofsky.Herhandswerekissesonmyskin.Mylipsunrolledthecurledleafofherheart.Shebreathedinmurmurs,guidingme,andIspokerhythmtoher,echoingmyneeds.Heatjoinedus,andweenclosedourselveswithtouchandtasteandperfumedsounds.Reflectedontheglass,weweresilhouettes,transparentimages-minefulloffirefromthebeach,andhersfullofstars.Andatlast,attheend,thoseclearreflectionsofourselvesmelted,merged,andfusedtogether.
Itwasgood,sogood,butsheneversaidshelovedme.
“Iloveyou,”Iwhispered,thewordsmovingfrommylipstohers.
“Iknowyoudo,”shereplied,rewardingmeandpityingme.“Iknowyoudo.”
“Idon’thavetogoonthistrip,youknow.”
“Whyareyougoing?”
“I’mnotsure.Ifeel…asenseofloyaltytohim,toKhaderbhai,andIstillowehim,inaway.Butit’smorethanthat.It’s…haveyoueverhadthefeeling-aboutanythingatall-thatyourwholelifeiskindofaprelude,orsomething-likeeverythingyou’veeverdonehasbeenleadingyouuptothisonepoint,andyouknew,somehow,thatonedayyou’dgetthere?
I’mnotexplainingitwell,but-”
“Iknowwhatyoumean,”sheinterruptedquickly.“Andyes,Ihavefeltlikethat.Ididsomething,once,thatwasmywholelife-eventheyearsIhaven’tlivedyet-inonesecond.”
“Whatwasit?”
“Weweretalkingaboutyou,”shecorrectedme,avoidingmyeyes.
“Aboutyou,nothavingtogotoAfghanistan.”
“Well,”Ismiled,“likeIsaid,Idon’thavetogo.”
“Thendon’t,”shesaidflatly,turningherheadtolookatthenightandthesea.“Doyouwantmetostay?”
“Iwantyoutobesafe.And…Iwantyoutobefree.”
“That’snotwhatImeant.”
“Iknowit’snot,”shesighed.
Ifeltthesmallstirofrestlessnessinherbody,againstmine,thatsaidshewantedtomove.Ididn’tmove.
“I’llstay,”Isaidquietly,fightingmyheart,andknowingitwasamistake,“ifyoutellmeyouloveme.”
Sheclosedhermouth,andpressedherlipstogethersotightlythattheyformedawhitescar.Slowly,cellbycell,itseemed,herbodydrewbackintoitselfallthatshe’dgiventomeafewmomentsbefore.
“Whyareyoudoingthis?”sheasked.
Ididn’tknowwhy.Maybeitwasthecoldturkey,whatI’dbeenthroughinthelastmonths,andthenewlifeIfeltI’dwon.
Maybeitwasdeath-Prabaker’sdeath,andAbdullah’s,andthedeathIsecretlyfearedwaswaitingformeinAfghanistan.
Whateverthereason,itwasstupidandpointlessandevencruel,andIcouldn’tstopwantingit.
“Ifyousaythatyouloveme,”Isaidagain.
“Idon’t,”shemurmured,atlast.Itriedtostopher,withmyfingertipsonhermouth,butsheturnedherheadtofaceme,andhervoicewasclearerandstrong.“Idon’t.Ican’t.Iwon’t.”
WhenNazeerreturnedfromthebeach,coughingandclearinghisvoiceloudlytoannouncehisarrival,wewerealreadyshoweredanddressed.Hesmiled-suchararething,thatsmile-ashelookedfromme,toher,andbackagain.Butthecoldsorrowinoureyesdrovethedownwardcurvesofhisfaceintowillowwreathsofdisappointment,andhelookedaway.
WewatchedherleaveinataxionthatlongandlonelynightbeforewewenttoKhader’swar,andwhenNazeerfinallymetmyeyeshenodded,slowlyandsolemnly.Iheldthestareforafewmoments,butthenitwasmyturntolookaway.Ididn’twanttofacethestrangemixofgriefandelationI’dseeninhiseyesbecauseIknewwhatitwastellingme.Karlawasgone,yes,butitwasthewholeworldofloveandbeautythatwe’dlostthatnight.AssoldiersinKhader’scausewehadtoleaveitallbehind.Andtheotherworld,theonceunlimitedworldofwhatwemightyetbe,wasshrinking,hourbyhour,toabullet’sbloodredfullstop.
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CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Nazeerwokemebeforedawn,andweleftthehouseasthefirstyawningraysoflightstretchedintothefadingnight.WhenweclimbedfromourtaxiattheairportwesawKhaderbhaiandKhaledAnsarineartheentrancetothedomesticterminal,butwedidn’tacknowledgethem.Khaderhadlaidoutacomplexitinerarythatwouldtakeus,withfourmajorchangesoftransport,fromBombaytoQuetta,inPakistan,neartheAfghanborder.Hisinstructionswerethatweshouldappearatalltimestobeindividualtravellers,andthatthetravellersshouldn’tacknowledgeoneanotherinanyway.Weweresettingoutwithhimtocommitascoreofcrimesacrossthreeinternationalboundaries,andtointerfereinawarbetweenAfghanistan’smujaheddinfreedomfightersandthemightyGoliathoftheSovietUnion.Hewasplanningtosucceedinhismission,buthewasalsoallowingforfailure.Hewasensuringthatifanyofuswerekilledorcapturedatanystage,thetrailofconnectionsbacktoBombaywouldbeascoldasamountainclimber’saxe.
Itwasalongjourney,anditbeganasasilentone.Nazeer,scrupulousaseverinhisconformitywithKhaderbhai’sinstructions,neverutteredasinglewordonthefirstlegfromBombaytoKarachi.Anhourafterwe’dcheckedintoourseparateroomsintheChandniHotel,however,Iheardasofttaponthedoor.Beforethedoorwashalfwayopenheslippedinsideandpresseditshutbehindhim.Hiseyeswerewidewithnervousexcitementandhismannerwasagitated,almostfrantic.Iwasunsettledandalittledisgustedbytheconspicuousnessofhisfear,andIreachedouttoputahandonhisshoulder.
“Takeiteasy,Nazeer.You’refreakingmeout,brother,withallthiscloak-and-daggershit.”
Hesawthecondescensionbehindmysmile,evenifhedidn’tunderstandthefullmeaningofthewords.Hisjawlockedaroundsomeinscrutableresolve,andhefrownedatmefiercely.We’dbecomefriends,NazeerandI.He’dopenedhishearttome.Butfriendship,forhim,wasmeasuredbywhatmendoandendureforoneanother,notbywhattheyshareandenjoy.ItpuzzledandeventormentedhimthatIalmostalwaysmethisearnestgravitywithfacetiousnessandtriviality.Theironywasthatwewere,infact,similarlydourandseriousmen,buthisgrimseveritywassostarkthatitrousedmefrommyownsolemnity,andprovokedachildish,prankishdesiretomockhim.
“Russian…everywhere,”hesaid,speakingquietly,butwithahard,breathyintensity.“Russian…knoweverything…knoweveryman…paymoneyforknoweverything.”
“Russianspies?”Iasked.“InKarachi…”
“EverywherePakistan,”henodded,turninghisheadasidetospitonthefloor.Iwasn’tsureifthegesturewasincontemptorforluck.“Toomuchdanger!Notspeakanyone!Yougo…FaloodahHouse…Bohribazaar…today…saadecharbaje.”
“Halfpastfour,”Irepeated.“YouwantmetomeetsomeoneattheFaloodahHouse,intheBohribazaar,athalfpastfour?Isthatit?Whodoyouwantmetomeet?”
Heallowedmeagrimlittlesmileandthenopenedthedoor.
Glancingbrieflyalongthecorridor,heslippedoutagainasswiftlyandsilentlyashe’dentered.Ilookedatmywatch.Oneo’clock.Ihadthreehourstokill.Formypassport-smugglingmissions,AbdelGhanihadgivenmeamoneybeltthatwashisuniquelyoriginaldesign.Thebeltwasmadefromatough,waterproofvinylandwasseveraltimeswiderthanthestandardmoneybelt.Wornflatagainstthestomach,thebeltcouldholduptotenpassportsandaquantityofcash.OnthatfirstdayinKarachiitheldfourofmyownbooks.ThefirstofthemwastheBritishbookthatI’dusedtopurchaseplaneandtraintickets,andregisteratthehotel.ThesecondbookwasthecleanAmericanpassportthatKhaderbhairequiredmetouseforthemissionintoAfghanistan.Thetwoothers,aSwissbookandaCanadianbook,weresparesforemergencyuse.Therewasalsoatenthousanddollarcontingencyfund,paidinadvance,aspartofmyfeeforacceptingthehazardousmission.Iwrappedthethickbeltaroundmywaist,beneathmyshirt,slippedmyswitchbladeintothescabbardatthebackofmytrousers,andleftthehoteltoexplorethecity.
Itwashot,hotterthanusualforthemildmonthofNovember,andalight,unseasonablerainhadleftthestreetshazywithathickened,steamyair.Karachiwasatenseanddangerouscitythen.ForseveralyearsthemilitaryjuntathathadseizedpowerinPakistanandexecutedthedemocraticallyelectedprimeminister,ZulfikarAliBhutto,hadruledthenationbydividingit.They’dexploitedgenuinegrievancesbetweenethnicandreligiouscommunitiesbyincitingviolentconflicts.They’dpittedtheindigenousethnicgroups-particularlytheSindis,thePashtuns,andthePunjabis-againsttheimmigrants,knownasMohajirs,who’dstreamedintothenewlyfoundednationofPakistanwhenitwaspartitionedfromIndia.Thearmysecretlysupportedextremistsfromtherivalgroupswithweapons,money,andthejudiciousapplicationoffavours.Whentheriotsthatthey’dprovokedandfomentedfinallyerupted,thegeneralsorderedtheirpolicetoopenfire.Rageagainstthepoliceviolencewasthencontainedbythedeploymentofarmytroops.Inthatwaythearmy,whosecovertoperationshadcreatedthebloodyconflicts,wereseentobetheonlyforcecapableofpreservingorderandtheruleoflaw.
Asmassacresandrevengekillingstumbledoveroneanotherwithescalatingbrutishness,kidnappingsandtorturebecameroutineevents.Fanaticsfromonegroupseizedsupportersfromanothergroup,andinflictedsadistictormentsonthem.Manyofthosewhowereabducteddiedinthatfearsomecaptivity.Somevanished,andtheirbodieswereneverfound.Andwhenonegrouporanotherbecamepowerfulenoughtothreatenthebalanceofthedeadlygame,thegeneralsincitedviolentconflictwithintheirgrouptoweakenit.Thefanaticsthenbegantofeedonthemselves,killingandmaimingrivalsfromtheirownethniccommunities.
Eachnewcycleofviolenceandvengeanceensured,ofcourse,thatnomatterwhatformofgovernmentemergedordissolvedinthenation,onlythearmywouldgrowstronger,andonlythearmycouldexerciserealpower.
Despitethatdramatictension-andbecauseofit-Karachiwasagoodplacetodobusiness.Thegenerals,whowerelikeamafiaclanwithoutthecourage,style,orsolidarityofgenuine,selfrespectinggangsters,hadseizedthecountrybyforce,heldtheentirenationhostageatthepointsofmanyguns,andlootedthetreasury.Theylostnotimeinassuringthegreatpowers,andtheotherarms-producingnations,thatPakistan’sarmedforceswereopenfortheirbusiness.Thecivilisednationsrespondedwithenthusiasm,andforyearsKarachiwashosttojunketingpartiesofarms-dealersfromAmerica,Britain,China,Sweden,Italy,andothercountries.Nolessindustriousintheirpursuitofadealwiththecamarillaofgeneralsweretheillegals-theblackmarketeers,gunrunners,freebooters,andmercenaries.Theycrowdedintothecafesandhotels:foreignersfromfiftycountrieswhohadcrimeinmindandadventureintheirhearts.
Inasense,Iwasoneofthem,aravagerliketherestofthem,profitingfromthewarinAfghanistanliketherestofthem,butIwasn’tcomfortableintheircompany.ForthreehoursIdriftedfromarestauranttoahoteltoachaishop,sittingnearorwithgroupsofforeignerswhoweresearchingforaquickbuck.Theirconversationsweredispiritinglycalculating.ThewarinAfghanistan,mostofthemconjecturedcheerily,hadafewgoodyearsleftinit.Thegeneralswere,ithadtobeadmitted,underconsiderablepressure.TherewererumoursthatBenazir,daughteroftheexecutedprimeminister,wasplanningtoreturntoPakistanfromexileinLondontoleadthedemocraticallianceopposedtothejunta.Butwithalittleluckandskilfulconnivance,theprofiteershoped,thearmymightremainincontrolofthecountry-andthewell-establishedchannelsofcorruption-forsomeyearsyet.
Thetalkwasofcashcrops,aeuphemismforcontrabandandblackmarkettradegoods,whichwereingreatdemandalongtheentireborderbetweenPakistanandAfghanistan.Cigarettes,particularlyAmericanblends,weresellingatKhyberPassforsixteentimestheiralreadyinflatedKarachiprice.Medicinesofeverykindweregeneratingprofitsthatincreasedinscalefrommonthtomonth.Winterclothing,suitableforsnowhabitats,wasexceptionallymarketable.OneenterprisingGermanfreebooterhaddrivenaMercedestruckloadedwithsurplusGermanarmyalpineissueuniforms,completewiththermalunderwear,fromMunichtoPeshawar.He’dsoldthelot,includingthetruck,forfivetimesitspurchasevalue.ThebuyerwasanAfghanwarlordwhowasfavouredbywesternpowersandagencies,includingtheAmericanCIA.Theheavywinterclothing,afterajourneyofthousandsofkilometresthroughGermany,Austria,Hungary,Romania,Bulgaria,Turkey,Iran,andPakistan,neverreachedthefightingmenofthemujaheddininthesnow-drapedmountainsofAfghanistan.Instead,thewinteruniformsandunderwearwerestoredinoneofthewarlord’swarehousesinPeshawar,awaitingtheendofthewar.TherenegadeandhissmallarmyweresittingoutthewarinthesafetyoftheirfortresscompoundsinPakistan.HisplanwastolaunchastrikeforpowerwithhisowntroopsaftertherealfightingagainsttheRussianswasdone,andthewarwaswon.
Newsofthatnewmarket-awarlord,cashedupwithCIAmoneyandhungryforsuppliesatanyprice-sentthrilling,speculativeripplesthroughthecommunityofforeignopportunistsinKarachi.
IencounteredthestoryoftheventuresomeGermanandhistruckfullofalpineuniformsinthreeslightlydifferentincarnationsduringthecourseoftheafternoon.Inafever,somethinglikegoldfever,theforeignerspassedthestoryamongthemselvesastheypursuedandcloseddowndealsforshipmentsofcannedfoods,balesofbrushedfleeces,shippingcontainersofengineparts,awarehousefullofsecond-handspiritstoves,andstocksofeverykindofweaponfrombayonetstogrenadelaunchers.Andeverywhere,ineveryconversation,Iheardthedark,desperateincantation:Ifthewargoesonforanotheryear,we’llhaveitmade..
VexedandgloomywithsquallingemotionsIenteredtheFaloodahHouseintheBohribazaar,andorderedoneofthesweet,technicoloureddrinks.Thefaloodhawasanindecentlysweetconcoctionofwhitenoodles,milk,roseflavours,andothermelliferoussyrups.TheFirniHouseinBombay’sDongriarea,nearKhaderbhai’shouse,wasjustlyfamousforitsdeliciousfaloodahdrinks,buttheywereinsipidwhencomparedtothefabulousconfectionsservedatKarachi’sFaloodahHouse.Whenthetallglassofpink,red,andwhitesugarymilkappearedbesidemyrighthand,IlookeduptothankthewaiterandsawthatitwasKhaledAnsari,carryingtwodrinks.
“Youlooklikeyouneedsomethingstrongerthanthis,man,”hesaidwithasmile-asmall,sadsmile-ashesatdownbesideme.
“What’sup?Orwhat’sdown,forthatmatter?”
“It’snothing,”Isighed,offeringhimasmileinreturn.
“Comeon,”heinsisted.“Let’shaveit.”
Ilookedintohishonest,open,scarredfaceanditoccurredtomethatKhaledknewmebetterthanIknewhim.WouldIhavenoticedandrealisedhowtroubledhewas,Iwondered,ifourroleswerereversed,andhe’denteredtheFaloodahHousewithsuchdisturbingpreoccupations?Probablynot.KhaledwassooftengloomythatIwouldn’thavegivenitasecondthought.“Well,it’sjustabitofsoul-searching,Iguess.I’vebeendoingsomeresearch,diggingaroundinsomeofthechaikhannasandrestaurantsyoutoldmeabout-someoftheplaceswheretheblack-marketguysandthemercenarieshangout.Itwasprettydepressing.There’salotofpeopleherewhowantthewartogoonforever,andtheydon’tgiveashitwho’sgettingkilledorwho’sdoingthekilling.”
“They’remakingmoney,”heshrugged.“It’snottheirwar.Idon’texpectthemtocare.That’sjusthowitis.”
“Iknow,Iknow.It’snotthemoneything,”Ifrowned,searchingforthewords,ratherthantheemotionthathadpromptedthem.
“It’sjust-ifyouwantedadefinitionofsick,reallysickminded,youcoulddoworsethansomebodywhowantsawar-anywar–togoonlonger.”
“And…youfeel…kindoftainted…kindoflikethem?”
Khaledaskedgently,lookingdownintohisglass.
“MaybeIdo.Idon’tknow.Iwouldn’teventhinkaboutit-youknow,ifIheardpeopletalkinglikethatsomewhereelse.Itwouldn’tbugmeifIwasn’there,andifIwasn’tdoingexactlythesamethingmyself.”
“Itisn’texactlythesame.”
“Itis.Prettymuch.Khader’spayingme-soI’mmakingmoneyoutofit,likethem-andI’msmugglingnewshitintoashit-fight,justliketheyare.”
“Andmaybeyou’restartingtoaskyourselfwhatthefuckyou’redoinghere?”
“That,too.WouldyoubelievemeifItoldyouIhaven’tgotaclue?Ireally,honestly,don’tknowwhythefuckI’mdoingit.
KhaderaskedmetobehisAmerican,andI’mdoingit.ButIdon’tknowwhy.”
Weweresilentforawhile,sippingatourdrinksandlisteningtotheclatterandbuzzsurroundingusinthebusyFaloodahHouse.AlargeportableradiowasplayingromanticgazalsinUrdu.Icouldhearconversationsinthreeorfourlanguagesfromcustomersclosetous.Icouldn’tunderstandthewords,norcouldIevenidentifywhichlanguagestheywere:Baluchi,Uzbek,Tajik,Farsi…
“Thisisgreat!”Khaledsaid,usingalongspoontoscoopnoodlesintohismouthfromtheglass.
“It’stoosweetformytaste,”Iansweredhim,drinkingthetreatnonetheless.
“Somethingsshouldbetoosweet,”hereplied,givingmeawinkashesuckedonthestraw.“Iffaloodahsweren’ttoosweet,wewouldn’tdrinkthem.”
Wefinishedourdrinksandwalkedoutintothelateafternoonsunlight,pausingbeyondthedoorwaytolightourcigarettes.
“We’lltakeoffindifferentdirections,”Khaledmutteredasheheldamatchformycigaretteinhiscuppedhands.“Justkeepwalkingthatway,south,forafewminutes.I’llcatchyouup.
Don’tsaygoodbye.”
Heturnedonhisheelandwalkedaway,steppingouttotheedgeoftheroadandintothefastlaneoffoottrafficbetweenthefootpathandthecars.
Iturnedandwalkedoffintheoppositedirection.Someminuteslater,attheperimeterofthebazaar,ataxislidtoastopquicklybesideme.ThebackdooropenedandIjumpedinnexttoKhaled.Anothermanwasinthefrontseatbesidethedriver.Hewasinhisearlythirties,withshort,darkbrownhairrecedingfromahigh,wideforehead.Hisdeep-seteyeswereofabrownsodarkastoseemblackuntildirectsunlightpiercedtheirisestorevealtheauburnearthtonesswirlingwithinthem.Hiseyesstaredevenly,intelligently,frombeneathblackbrowsthatallbutmetinthecentre.Hisnosewasstraight,descendingtoashortupperlip,afirmdeterminedmouth,andablunt,roundedchin.Itwasobviousthatthemanhadshavedthatday,andprobablynotlongago,butablue-blackshadowdarkenedthelowerhalfofhisfacealongtheneat,sharplydefinedlinesthatgovernedhisbeard.Itwasastrong,square,symmetricalface,handsomeinitsstrengthandevenproportionsifnotinanyoneoutstandingfeature.
“ThisisAhmedZadeh,”Khaledannouncedasthecabmovedoff.
“Ahmed,thisisLin.”
Weshookhands,sizingoneanotherupwithequalcandourandaffability.Hisstrongfacemight’veseemedseverebutforapeculiarexpressionthatscrewedhiseyesintoagentlesquint,andcreasedthecrestsofhischeekswithsmilelines.Wheneverhewasconcentrating,wheneverhewasn’tcompletelyrelaxed,AhmedZadehworeanexpressionthatmadehimlookasifhewassearchingforafriendinacrowdofstrangers.Itwasadisarmingexpression,anditendearedhimtomeatonce.
“I’veheardalotaboutyou,”hesaid,releasingmyhandandrestinghisarmonthefrontseatofthetaxi.Hisaccent,speakingahesitantbutclearEnglish,wasthatmelodiousNorthAfricanblendofFrenchandArabic.“Ihopeitwasn’tallgood,”Isaid,laughing.
“Wouldyoupreferpeopletosaybadthingsaboutyou?”
“Idon’tknow.MyfriendDidiersaysthatpraisingpeoplebehindtheirbackismonstrouslyunfair,becausetheonethingyoucan’tdefendyourselfagainstisthegoodthatpeoplesayaboutyou.”
“D’accord!”Ahmedlaughed.“Exactlyso!”
“Shit,thatremindsme,”Khaledinterjected,fishingthroughhispocketsuntilhefoundafoldedenvelope.“Ialmostforgot.IsawDidier,thenightbeforeweleft.Hewaslookingforyou.Icouldn’ttellhimwhereyouwere,soheaskedmetogiveyouthisletter.”
Itookthefoldedenvelopeandslippeditintothepocketofmyshirt,toreadwhenIwasalone.
“Thanks,”Imuttered.“Sowhat’sgoingon?Wherearewegoing?”
“Toamosque,”Khaledreplied,withthatsmall,sadsmile.“We’regoingtopickupafriendfirst,thenwe’regoingtomeetKhaderandsomeoftheotherguyswho’llbegoingwithusacrosstheborder.”
“Howmanyguys?”
“There’llbethirtyorso,Ithink,oncewe’realltogether.MostofthemarealreadyinQuetta,oratChaman,neartheborder.Weleavetomorrow-you,me,Khaderbhai,Nazeer,Ahmed,andoneotherguy,Mahmoud.He’safriendofmine.Idon’tthinkyouknowhim.
You’llmeethiminafewminutes.”
“WearethesmallUnitedNations,non?”Ahmedaskedrhetorically.
“AbdelKhaderKhanfromAfghanistan,KhaledfromPalestine,MahmoudfromIran,youfromNewZealand-I’msorry,youarenowourAmerican-andIamfromAlgeria.”
“Andthere’smore,”Khaledadded.“We’vegotoneguyfromMorocco,oneguyfromtheGulf,oneguyfromTunisia,twofromPakistan,andonefromIraq.TherestareallAfghans,butthey’reallfromdifferentpartsofAfghanistan,anddifferentethnicgroupsaswell.”
“Jihad,”Ahmedsaid,hissmilegrimandalmostfearful.“Holywar–thisisourholyduty,toresisttheRussianinvaders,andliberateaMuslimland.”
“Don’tgethimstarted,Lin,”Khaledwinced.“Ahmed’sacommunist.He’llbehittingyouwithMaoandLeninnext.”
“Don’tyoufeelalittle…compromised?”Iasked,temptingfate.“Goingupagainstasocialistarmy?”“Whatsocialists?”heretorted,squintingmorefuriously.“Whatcommunists?Pleasedonotmisunderstandme-theRussiansdidsomegoodthingsinAfghanistan-”
“He’srightaboutthat,”Khaledinterruptedhim.“Theybuiltalotofbridges,andallthemainhighways,andalotofschoolsandcolleges.”
“Andalsodams,forfreshwater,andelectricpowerstations-allgoodthings.AndIsupportedthem,whentheydidthosethingsasawayofhelping.ButwhentheyinvadedAfghanistan,tochangethecountrybyforce,theythrewawayalloftheprinciplestheyaresupposedtobebelieving.TheyarenottrueMarxists,nottrueLeninists.TheRussiansareimperialists,andIfighttheminthenameofMarx,Lenin,Mao-”
“AndAllah,”Khaledgrinned.
“Yes,andAllah,”Ahmedagreed,smilingwhiteteethatusandslappingthebackoftheseatwithhisopenpalm.
“Whydidtheydoit?”Iaskedhim.
“ThatissomethingthatKhaledcanbetterexplain,”hereplied,deferringtothePalestinianveteranofseveralwars.
“Afghanistanisaprize,”Khaledbegan.“There’snomajorreservesofoil,orgold,oranythingelsethatpeoplemightwant,butstillit’sabigprize.TheRussianswantitbecauseit’srightontheirborder.Theytriedtocontrolitthediplomaticway,withaidpackagesandreliefprogramsandallthat.Thentheyworkedtheirownguysintopowerthere,inagovernmentthatwasreallyjustapuppetoutfit.TheAmericanshatedit,becauseofthecoldwarandallthatbrinkmanshipcrap,sotheydestabilisedtheplacebysupportingtheonlyguyswhowerereallypissedoffwiththeRussianpuppets-thereligiousmullah-types.Thoselong-beardswereoutoftheirmindsatthewaytheRussianswerechangingthecountry-lettingwomenwork,andgotouniversity,andgetaroundinpublicwithoutthefullburkhacovering.WhentheAmericansofferedthemgunsandbombsandmoneytoattacktheRussians,theyjumpedatit.Afterawhile,theRussiansdecidedtocutthepretence,andtheyinvadedthecountry.Nowwe’vegotawar.”
“AndPakistan,”AhmedZadehconcluded,“theywantAfghanistanbecausetheyaregrowingveryfast,toofast,andtheywanttheland.Theywanttomakeagreatcountrybycombiningthetwonations.AndPakistan,becauseofthemilitarygenerals,belongstoAmerica.So,Americahelpsthem.Theyaretrainingmennow,fighters,inreligionschools,madrassahs,alloverPakistan.ThefightersarecalledTalebs,andtheywillgointoAfghanistanwhentherestofuswinthewar.Andwewillwinthiswar,Lin.Butthenextone,Idonotknow…”
Iturnedmyfacetothewindow,andasifthatwereasignal,thetwomenbegantospeakinArabic.Ilistenedtothesmooth,swiftlyflowingsyllablesandIletmythoughtsdriftonthatsibilantmusic.Beyondthewindowthestreetsgrewlessordered,andthebuildingsgrewmoreshabbyandunkempt.Manyofthemudbrickandsandstonebuildingsweresingle-storeydwellings,andalthoughtheywereobviouslyinhabitedbywholefamiliestheyseemedunfinished:barelystandingbeforethey’dbeenpossessedandusedasshelters.
Wepassedthroughwholesuburbsofsuchhaphazardandimpetuouslyconstructedsprawls-dormitorysuburbsthrownuptocopewiththeheadlongrushofimmigrantsfromvillagestotherapidlyexpandingcity.Sidestreetsandlateralavenuesrevealedthattheduplicationofthosecrude,resemblantstructuresextendedallthewaytothehorizonofsight,oneithersideofthemainroad.
Afteralmostanhourofslowprogressthroughsometimesimpassablycrowdedstreets,westoppedmomentarilytoallowanothermantojoinusinthebackseat.FollowingKhaled’sinstructions,thecabdriverthenturnedhistaxiaroundandreturnedalongpreciselythesamecongestedroute.
ThenewmanwasMahmoudMelbaaf,athirty-year-oldIranian.Afirstglimpseofhisface-thethick,blackhair,thehighcheekbones,theeyescolouredlikeasandduneinablood-redsunset-remindedmesomuchofmydeadfriendAbdullahthatIflinchedaroundthepainofit.Inafewmomentsthesimilaritydissolved:
Mahmoud’seyesprotrudedalittle,hislipswerelessfull,andhischinwaspointed,asifitwasdesignedtoholdagoateebeard.Itwas,infact,averydifferentface.
ButintheclearthoughtofAbdullahTaheriandthepiercingpainofmissinghim,IsuddenlyunderstoodapartofthereasonIwasthere,withKhaledandtheothers,onajourneyintosomeoneelse’swar.Onepart,avitalpartofmyreadinesstofacetherisksoftakingonKhader’smission,wastheguiltIstillfeltthatAbdullahhaddiedalone,surroundedbyguns.Iwasputtingmyselfinthenearestequivalent,surroundingmyselfwithenemyguns.Andintheinstantofthinkingthatthought,inthemomentofdaubingtheunspokenwordsonagreywallofmymind-deathwish-Irejectedit,withashudderthatshiveredacrossthesurfaceofmyskin.AndforthefirsttimeinallthemonthssinceI’dagreedtodothejobforAbdelKhaderKhanIfeltafraid,andIknewthatmylife,thereandthen,wasnomorethanahandfulofsandsqueezedintomyclenchedfist.
WegotoutofthecarablockawayfromtheMasjid-i-TubaMosque.
Followingoneanotherinsinglefile,withtwentymetresbetweeneachman,wereachedthemosque,andremovedourshoes.Anancienthajjiattendedtotheshoeswhilehemutteredhismeditationalzikkir.Khaledpressedafoldedbanknoteintotheman’scalloused,arthritichand.AsweenteredthemosqueIlookedupandgaspedinsurpriseandjoy.
Theinteriorofthemosquewascoolandimmaculatelyclean.
Marbleandstonetilesgleamedfromflutedpillars,mosaicarches,andvaststretchesofpatternedfloors.Butaboveandbeyondallthat,drawingtheeyeirresistibly,wastheenormouswhitemarbledome.Thespectacularcanopywasahundredpacesacross,andbejewelledwithtiny,polishedmirrors.AsIstoodthere,gapinginwonderatitsbeauty,theelectriclightsinthemosquecameonandthegreatcurveofmarbleaboveusgleamedlikesunshineonthemillionpeaksandripplesofawind-worriedlake.
Khaledleftusimmediately,promisingtoreturnassoonaspossible.Ahmed,Mahmoud,andIwalkedtoanalcovethatgaveaviewofthedome,andwesatdownonthepolishedtilefloor.Itwassometimesincetheeveningprayer-I’dheardthecallofthemuezzinwhileweweredrivinginthecab-buttherewerestillmanymenabsorbedinprivateprayerthroughoutthemosque.WhenhewassurethatIwascomfortable,Ahmedannouncedthathewouldtaketheopportunitytopray.Heexcusedhimself,andwalkedtothebathingfount.Withhisface,hands,andfeetwashedaccordingtoritual,hereturnedtoalittleclearspacebeneaththedomeandcommencedhisprayer.
IwatchedhimwithatinygermofenvyattheeasewithwhichheopenedhiscommunicationwithGod.Ifeltnourgetojoinhim,butthesincerityofhismeditationmademefeelmuchmorealone,somehow,inmysolitary,unconnectedmind.
Hecompletedtheprayerand,ashebeganthewalkbacktous,Khaledreturned.Heworeatroubledexpression.Wesatclosetogether,ourheadsalmosttouching.
“We’vegottrouble,”hewhispered.“Thepolicewereatyourhotel.”
“Thecops?”“Thepoliticalpolice,”Khaledanswered.“TheISI.Inter-ServicesIntelligence.”
“Whatdidtheywant?”Iasked.
“You.Allofus.We’vebeenmade.TheyhitKhader’shouse,too.
Youwerebothlucky.Hewasoutofthehouse,andtheydidn’tgethim.Whathaveyougotwithyou,fromyourhotel?Whatdidyouleavethere?”
“I’vegotmypassports,mymoney,andmyknife,”Ireplied.
Ahmedgrinnedatme.
“Youknow,Iamgoingtolikeyou,”hewhispered.
“Everythingelseisstillthere,”Icontinued.“There’snotmuch.
Clothes,toiletries,afewbooks.That’sit.Butthere’sthetickets-theplaneandthetrainticketsIbought.Ilefttheminmycarrybag.That’stheonlythingwithanameonit,I’mprettysure.”
“Nazeergotyourcarrybag,andgotoutoftherejustaminutebeforethecopscrashedin,”Khaledsaid,offeringmeareassuringnod.“Butthat’sallhegottimetograb.Themanager’soneofourguys,andhetippedNazeeroff.Thebigquestionis,whotoldthecopsthatwe’rehere?IthastobesomeonefromKhader’sside.Someoneontheinside,veryclose.Idon’tlikeit.”
“Idon’tgetit,”Iwhispered.“Whyarethecopssointerestedinus?PakistanissupportingAfghanistaninthewar.Theyshouldwantustosmugglestufftothemujaheddin.Theyshouldbehelpingustodoit.”
“TheyarehelpingsomeAfghans,butnotallofthem.Theguyswe’regettingthestuffto,theguysnearKandahar,they’reMassoud’smen.Pakistanhatesthembecausetheywon’tacceptHekmatyar,oranyoftheotherpro-Pakistanleadersoftheresistance.PakistanandtheAmericanshavepickedoutHekmatyarasthenextrulerofAfghanistan,afterthewar.ButMassoud’smenspiteverytimetheyhearhisname.”
“Itiscrazywar,”MahmoudMelbaafaddedinacoarse,throatywhisper.“Afghansfighteachotherforsolongtime,thousandsyears.Theonlythingbetterthanfightingeachother,isfighting…howdoyousayit…invasion.TheywillbeatRussians,sure,buttheywillkeepfighting.”
“ThePakistaniswanttobesurethattheywinthepeace,aftertheAfghanswinthewar,”Ahmedcontinuedforhim.“Nomatterwhowinsthewarforthem,theywanttobeincontrolofthepeace.
Iftheycoulddoit,theywouldtakeallofourweaponsandourmedicinesandourothersupplies,andgivethemtotheirown…”
“Proxies,”Khaledmurmured,theNewYorkinhisaccentexplodinginthewhisperedword.“Hey,youhearthat?”
Wealllistenedintently,andheardthesoundsofsingingandmusicfromsomewhereoutsidethemosque.
“They’vestarted,”Khaledsaid,risingtohisfeetwithathleticgrace.“It’stimetogo.”
Westoodandfollowedhimoutofthemosquetocollectourshoes.
Walkingaroundthebuildinginthegatheringdark,weapproachedthesoundofthesinging.
“I’ve…I’veheardthissingingbefore,”IsaidtoKhaledaswewalked.
“YouknowtheBlindSingers?”heasked.“Ohsure,ofcourseyoudo.YouwerethereinBombay,withAbdelKhader,whentheysangforus.ThatwasthefirsttimeIeversawyou.”
“Youweretherethatnight?”
“Sure.Wewereallthere.Ahmed,Mahmoud,Siddiqi-youhaven’tmethimyet.Alotoftheotherswho’llbegoingwithusonthistrip.Theywerealltherethatnight.ThatwasthefirstbigmeetingforthisruntoAfghanistan.That’swhywegottogether.
That’swhatthemeetingwasallabout.Didn’tyouknow?”
Helaughedasheaskedthequestion,andhistonewasashonestandingenuousasiteverwas,butstillthewordsstabbedintomymind.Didn’tyouknow?Didn’tyouknow?
Khaderwasplanningthetripallthattimeago,Ithought,onthefirstnightthatImethim.Irememberedwithperfectclaritythelarge,smokyroomwheretheBlindSingerssangfortheirprivateaudience.Irememberedthefoodthatweate,thecharraswesmoked.Irememberedthefewwell-knownfacesI’drecognisedthatnight.Weretheyallinvolvedinthemission!IrememberedtheyoungAfghanwho’dgreetedKhaderbhaiwithsuchrespect,bendinglowenoughtorevealthepistolheldwithinafoldofhisshawl.
Iwasstillthinkingofthatfirstnight,stillworriedbythequestionsIcouldn’tanswer,whenKhaledandIcameuponalargegroupofmen,hundredsofthem,sittingcross-leggedonthetilesofawideforecourtadjacenttothemosque.TheBlindSingersfinishedasongandthemenapplauded,shoutingAllah!Allah!
SubhaanAllah!KhaledledusthroughthecrowdofmentoarelativelyshelteredalcovewhereKhadersatwithNazeerandseveralothers.WhenIcaughthiseyeKhaderbhairaisedhishand,signallingformetojoinhim.AsIreachedhissidehegraspedmyhandandpulledmedownbesidehim.Anumberofheadsturnedinourdirection.Conflictingemotionsstumbledintooneanotherinmyhauntedheart:fear,thatIwassoconspicuouslyassociatedwithKhaderKhan,andaflushofpridethathe’ddrawnme,overallothers,tositathisside.
“Thewheelhasmovedthroughonefullturn,”hewhisperedtome,placinghishandonmyforearmandspeakingclosetomyear.“Wemeteachother,youandI,withtheBlindSingers,andnowwehearthemagain,justaswebeginthisimportanttask.”
HewasreadingmymindandIwassure,somehow,thatitwasdeliberate:thathewasfullyawareofthedizzyingimpactofhiswords.Iwassuddenlyangrywithhim,suddenlyresentful,evenofthetouchofhishandonmyarm.
“DidyouarrangetohavetheBlindSingershere?”Iaskedhim,staringstraightaheadandleavingtherazor’sedgeinmytone.
“Youknow,justlikeyouarrangedeverythingelsethefirsttimewemet?”
HeremainedsilentuntilatlastIturnedtofacehim.WhenmyeyesmethisIfeltthestingofimpulsivetears,andImasteredthembygrindingmyjawstogether.Itworked,andmyburningeyesremaineddry,butmymindwasinturmoil.Themanwiththecinnamon-brownskinandthetrim,whitebeardhadusedandmanipulatedmeandeveryoneelseheknewasifwewerehischainedslaves.Yettherewassuchloveinhisgoldeneyesthatitwas,forme,thefullmeasureofsomethingI’dalwayscravedfromtheinnermostcoilsofmyheart.Theloveinhissoftlysmiling,deeplyworriedeyeswasafather’slove:theonlyfather-loveI’deverknown.
“Fromthismoment,youstaywithus,”hewhispered,holdingmystare.“Youcannotreturntoyourhotel.Thepolicehaveadescriptionofyou,andtheywillkeeplooking.Thisismyfault,andImustgiveyoumyapology.Someoneclosetoushasbetrayedus.Itisourgoodluck,andhisbadluck,thatwewerenotcaptured.Hewillbepunished.Hismistakehasrevealedhimtous.Weknownowwhoheis,andweknowwhatmustbedonetohim.
Butthatwillwaituntilwereturnfromourtask.TomorrowwetraveltoQuetta.Wemustremainthereforsometime.Whenthetimeisright,wewillmakethecrossingintoAfghanistan.Andfromthatday,foraslongasyouareinAfghanistan,therewillbeapriceonyourhead.TheRussianspaywellforthecaptureofforeignerswhohelpthemujaheddin.AndwehavefewfriendshereinPakistan.Ithinkwewillhavetogetsomelocalclothesforyou.Wewilldressyoulikeayoungmanfrommyvillage-aPashtun,likeme.Yes,withacaptocoveryourwhitehair,andapattu,ashawl,tothrowoveryourbroadshouldersandchest.Wewillpassyouoff,perhaps,asmyblue-eyedson.Whatdoyouthink?”
WhatdidIthink?TheBlindSingersclearedtheirthroatsnoisily,andtheassemblyofmusiciansbegantheintroductiontoanewsongwiththeplaintivewailoftheharmoniumandtheblood-stirringpassionofthetablas.Iwatchedthelong,slenderfingersofthetablaplayersclapandcaressthetremblingskinsofthedrums,andIfeltmythoughtsdriftawayfrommeinthehypnoticflutterandflowofthemusic.Myowngovernmenthadputapriceonmyhead,inAustralia,asarewardforinformationleadingtomycapture.Andthere,acrosstheworld,Iwasputtinganotherpriceonmyhead.Oncemore,asthewildgriefandraptureoftheBlindSingersrippledthroughalisteningcrowd,oncemore,astheeyesofthatcrowdblazedtheecstasyoftheirdevotions,oncemoreIsurrenderedtothefate-filledmomentandfeltmyself,mywholelife,turningwiththewheel.
ThenIrememberedthenoteinmypocket:theletterfromDidierthatKhaledhadgivenmeinthetaxitwohoursearlier.Caughtupinthesuperstitioustwistofcoincidenceandhistoryrepeatingitself,Iwassuddenlydesperatetoknowwhatthelettersaid.Islippeditfrommypocketandhelditclosetomyeyesintheyellow-amberlightthatreachedusfromlampshighoverourheads.
DearLin,Thisistotellyou,moncherami,thatIhavediscoveredwhowasit-thewomanwhobetrayedyoutothepoliceandhadyouputinsidetheprisonandbeatensobadly.Suchaterriblething!EvennowIamstilldesolatedbyit!Wellthen,thewomanwhodidthisthingisMadameZhou,theownerofthePalace.Uptothistime,Ihavenotlearnedthereasonforwhatshedid,butevenwithoutsomeunderstandingofhermotivefordoingthisterriblethingtoyou,Ihaveonlythebestsourcestoassuremethatitistrue.
IhopethatIwillhearfromyousoon.
Yourdearfriend,Didier.
MadameZhou.Why?EvenasIformedthequestioninmymind,Iknewtheanswer.Isuddenlyrememberedafacestaringatmewithinexplicablehatred.ItwasthefaceofRajan,MadameZhou’seunuchservant.IrememberedthatI’dseenhimwatchingme,onthedayoftheflood,whenwe’drescuedKarlafromtheTajMahalHotelinVinod’sboat.Irememberedthemalignanthatethathadfilledhiseyesashe’dwatchedmewithKarla,andwatchedmedriveawayinShantu’staxi.Laterthatnightthepolicehadarrestedme,andmyprisontorturehadbegun.MadameZhouhadpunishedmefordefyingher,fordaringtochallengeher,forimpersonatinganAmericanconsularofficer,fortakingLisaCarterawayfromherand,yes,perhapsforlovingKarla.
Itoretheletterintopiecesandputthefragmentsbackinmypocket.Iwascalm.Thefearwasgone.AttheendofthatlongKarachiday,IknewwhyIwasgoingtoKhader’swar,andIknewwhyIwouldreturn.IwasgoingbecausemyheartwashungryforKhaderbhai’slove,thefather-lovethatstreamedfromhiseyesandfilledthefather-shapedholeinmylife.Whensomanyotherloveswerelost-myfamily,myfriends,Prabaker,Abdullah,evenKarla-thatlookofloveinKhader’seyeswaseverythingandalltheworldtome.
Itseemedstupid,itwasstupid,togotowarforlove.Hewasn’tasaintandhewasn’tahero:Iknewthat.Hewasn’tevenmyfather.Butfornothingmorethanthosesecondsofhislovinggaze,IknewthatIwouldfollowhimintothatwar,andanyother.Anditwasn’tanymorestupidthansurvivingjustforhate,andreturningforrevenge.Forthat’swhatitcamedownto:
Ilovedhimenoughtoriskmylife,andIhatedherenoughtosurviveandtoavengemyself.AndIwouldhavethatrevenge,Iknew,ifImadeitthroughKhader’swar:IwouldfindMadameZhou,andIwouldkillher.
Iclosedmymindaroundthatthoughtasamanmightclosehishandaroundthehiltofaknife.TheBlindSingerscriedthejoysandagoniesoftheirloveforGod.Besideme,surroundingme,heartssoaredinresponse.Khaderbhaiturnedhisheadtomeetmyeyes,andnoddedslowly.Ismiledintothegoldeneyesfilledwithtiny,swayinglamplights,andsecrets,andsacredpleasuressummonedbythesinging.And,Godhelpme,Iwascontentandunafraidandalmosthappy.
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WespentamonthinQuetta-alongmonthofwaitingwiththefrustrationoffalsestarts.ThedelaywascausedbyamujaheddincommandernamedAsmatullahAchakzaiMuslim.HewastheleaderoftheAchakzaipeopleintheregionofKandahar,whichwasourultimatedestination.TheAchakzaiwereaclanofsheepandgoatherderswho’doriginallybeenmembersofthedominantDurraniclan.In1750,thefounderofmodernAfghanistan,AhmedShahAbdali,dividedtheAchakzaifromtheDurraniandestablishedthemasaclanintheirownright.ThatwasinaccordancewithAfghantradition,whichallowedasub-clantobeseparatedfromitsparentclanwhenitreachedsufficientsizeorstrength.Itwasalsoanadmissionbythewilywarriorandnation-builderAhmedShahthattheAchakzaiwereaforcetobereckonedwithandappeased.ThroughtwocenturiestheAchakzaiincreasedtheirstatusandtheirpower.Theyearnedawell-deservedreputationasfiercefighters,andeverymanintheclancouldbecountedontofollowhisleaderwithoutquestion.DuringtheearlyyearsofthewaragainsttheRussians,AsmatullahAchakzaiMuslimformedhismenintoawell-armed,highlydisciplinedmilitia.Intheirregiontheybecamethespearheadoftheindependencestruggle:thejihadtodriveouttheSovietinvaders.
Towardtheendof1985,aswepreparedourselvesinQuettaforthecrossingintoAfghanistan,Asmatullahbegantovacillateinhiscommitmenttothewar.Somuchdependedonhismilitiathatwhenhepulledhismenbackfromactiveservice,andbegansecretpeacetalkswiththeRussiansandtheirAfghanpuppetgovernmentinKabul,theentirewarofresistanceintheKandaharregioncollapsed.OthermujaheddinunitsnotunderAsmatullah’scontrol,suchasKhader’smeninthemountainsnorthofthecity,remainedintheirpositions;buttheywereisolated,andeverysupplyroutetothemwasperilouslyvulnerabletoRussianattack.TheuncertaintyforcedustowaituntilAsmatullahdecidedwhethertocontinuethejihadorswitchsidesandsupporttheRussians.No-onecouldpredictwhichwayhewouldjump.
Althoughwewereallrestiveandagitatedwiththewait-asthedayslimpedintoweeks,itseemedinterminable-Iusedthetimewell.IpractisedphrasesinFarsi,Urdu,andPashto,andevenpickedupafewwordsinsomeTajikandUzbekdialects.Irodehorseseveryday.WhileInevermanagedtoeliminatemyclownish,arm-and-leg-flappinggestureswhenImadetheanimalsstoporgoorturninadesireddirection,Isometimesdidsucceedindismountingthembyclimbingdownratherthanbeinghurledtothegroundonmyback.
Ireadbookseverydayfromabizarre,eclecticcollectionsuppliedtomebyAyubKhan,aPakistani,andtheonememberofourgroupwho’dbeenborninQuetta.Becauseitwasjudgedtoodangerousformetoleaveoursafe-housecompoundatahorseranchontheoutskirtsofthecity,Ayubbroughtmebooksfromthecentrallibrary.ThelibrarywasstockedwithobscureandfascinatingEnglish-languagebooksthatwereaninheritancefromthedaysoftheBritishRaj.Thenameofthecity,Quetta,wasderivedfromthePashtowordkwatta,meaningfort.ItsproximitytotheChamanPassroutetoAfghanistan,andtheBolanPassroutetoIndia,ensuredQuetta’smilitaryandeconomicsignificanceformillennia.TheBritishfirstoccupiedtheoldfortin1840,butwereforcedtoabandonitaftersicknessinthetroopsandferociousresistancefromtheAfghanshadwitheredthecolonialforce.Itwasreoccupiedin1876,andfirmlyestablishedasthepremierBritishpossessioninthatregionoftheNorthWestFrontierofIndia.TheImperialStaffCollegeformilitaryofficersinBritishIndiawasestablishedthere,andathriving,prosperousmarket-centregrewupinthespectacular,naturalamphitheatreofthesurroundingmountains.AcataclysmicearthquakeonthelastdayofMayin1935destroyedmostofthecityandkilledtwentythousandpeople,butQuettawasrebuilt,andtheclean,wideboulevardsandpleasantweathermadeitoneofthemostpopularholidayresortsinnorthernPakistan.
Forme,restrictedthentothecompound,thechiefattractionofthecitywastherandomselectionofbooksthatAyubbroughttome.Everyfewdaysheappearedatmydoor,grinninghopefullyandhandingthebundleofbookstomeasiftheyweretreasuresfromanarchaeologicaldig.
AndsoitwasthatIrodeduringtheday,acclimatisingmyselftothethinnerairabovefivethousandfeet,andatnightreadthediariesandjournalsoflong-deadexplorers,extincteditionsofGreekclassics,eccentricallyannotatedvolumesofShakespeare,andadizzyinglypassionateterzarimatranslationofDante’sTheDivineComedy.
“Someofthementhinkyouareascholaroftheholyworks,”
AbdelKhaderKhansaidtomefromthedoorwayofmyroomonenight,afterwe’dbeenamonthinQuetta.IclosedthebookthatIwasreadingandstoodtogreethimatonce.Hetookmyhandandencloseditwithinbothofhisown,mutteringawhisperedprayerofblessing.WhenheacceptedthechairthatIofferedhim,Isatdownonastoolanarm’sreachaway.Hehadaparcelwrappedincreamchamoisleatherunderhisarm.Heplaceditonmybedandsettledbackcomfortably.
“Readingisstillsomethingmysterious,inthecountryofmybirth,andthecauseofsomefearandmuchsuperstition,”Khadersaidwearily,rubbingahandoverhistired,brownface.“Onlyfourmenintencanreadatall,andhalfthatnumberagainforwomen.”
“Wheredidyoulearn…everythingyou’velearned?”Iaskedhim.
“WheredidyoulearntospeakEnglishsowell,forexample?”
“IwastutoredbyaveryfineEnglishgentleman,”helaughedsoftly,brighteningwiththerecollection.“JustasmylittleTariqwastutoredbyyou.”
Itooktwobeediesfromapack,littheminmyhandwiththeplayofamatch,andhandedonetohim.
“Myfatherwastheleaderofhisclan,”Khadercontinued.“Hewasasternman,buthewasalsoajustmanandawiseman.InAfghanistanmenbecomeleadersbymerit-theyaregoodspeakers,wisemanagersofmoney,andbrave,whenfightingisnecessary.
Thereisnoinheritedrighttobealeader,andaleader’ssonwhohasnowisdomorcourageorskillatspeakingtothepeoplewillbepassedoverforanothermanwithbetterskills.Myfatherwasveryanxiousformetosucceedhimandtocontinuehislifework,whichwastoraisehispeoplefromignorance,andtoensuretheirfuturewell-being.AwanderingSufimystic,anoldsaintwhovisitedourareawhenIwasborn,hadtoldmyfatherthatIwouldgrowuptobecomeashiningstarinthehistoryofmypeople.Myfatherhopedforthiswithallhisheartbut,unfortunately,Ishowednoneofaleader’sskills,andnointerestinattainingthem.Iwas,inshort,abitterdisappointmenttohim.Hesentmetomyuncle,hereinQuetta.
Andmyuncle,whowasaprosperousmerchantthen,putmeinthecareofanEnglishman,whobecamemytutor.”
“Howoldwereyou?”
“IwastenyearsoldwhenIleftKandahar,andIspentfiveyearsasastudentofMr.IanDonaldMackenzieEsquire.”
“Youmust’vebeenagoodstudent,”Isuggested.
“Perhaps,”hemusedinreply.“Ithink,really,thatMackenzieEsquirewasaverygoodteacher.Ihaveheard,intheyearssinceIlefthim,thatthepeopleofScotlandareknownfortheirsourandsternways.SomepeoplehavetoldmethatthepeopleofScotlandarepessimists,whoprefertowalkonthedarksideofeverysunnystreet.Ithinkthatifthisisinsomewaytrue,itdoesnotalsotellusthatthepeopleofScotlandfindthisdarksideofthingstobevery,veryfunny.MyMackenzieEsquirewasamanwholaughedinhiseyes,evenwhenhewasmoststernwithme.
EverytimethatIthinkofhim,Irememberthelaughterinhiseyes.AndheloveditinQuetta.Helovedthemountains,andthecoldairinwinter.Histhick,stronglegswerebuiltforclimbingmountainpaths,andheroamedthesehillseveryweek,oftenwithmealoneforcompany.Hewasahappymanwhoknewhowtolaugh,andhewasagreatteacher.”
“Whathappenedwhenhefinishedteachingyou?”Iasked.“DidyoureturntoKandahar?”
“Idid,butitwasnotthejoyfulreturnthatmyfatherhopedfor.Yousee,onthedayaftermydearMackenzieEsquireleftQuetta,Ikilledaman,inthebazaar,outsidemyuncle’swarehouse.”
“Whenyouwerefifteen?”
“Yes.WhenIwasfifteenyearsoldIkilledaman,forthefirsttime.”
Helapsedintosilence,andIponderedtheweightandmeasureofthatphrase…forthefirsttime…
“Itwasacausethatwasreallynocause,atrickoffate,afightthatgrewoutofnothingatall.Themanwasbeatingachild.Itwashisownchild,andIshouldnothaveinterfered.
Butitwasaverycruelbeating,andIcouldnotbeartowatchit.Filledwiththeimportanceofbeingthesonofavillageleader,andbeingthenephewofoneofQuetta’smostprosperousmerchants,Icommandedthemantostopbeatingthechild.Hetookoffence,ofcourse,andtherewasanargument.Theargumentbecameafight.Andthenhewasdead,stabbedinthechestwithhisowndagger-thedaggerhehadtriedtouseonme.”
“Itwasself-defence.”
“Yes.Thereweremanywitnesses.Itwasinthemainstreetofthebazaar.Myuncle,whohadmuchinfluenceatthattime,spokeformewithalltheauthorities,andfinallyarrangedformetoreturntoKandahar.Unfortunately,thefamilyofthemanIhadkilledrefusedtoacceptablood-moneypaymentfrommyuncle,andtheysenttwomentoKandaharafterme.Ireceivedawarningfrommyuncle,andIstruckfirst.Ikilledbothmenbyshootingthemwithmyfather’soldlongrifle.”
Hewassilentagainforawhile,staringatapointonthefloorbetweenourfeet.Icouldhearmusic,distantandmuffled,comingfromtheothersideofthecompound.ThereweremanyroomsradiatingoutwardfromacentralcourtyardthatwaslargerbutlessgrandthanthatinKhader’sBombayhome.FromsomeofthenearerroomsIcouldhearthelow,water-bubblemurmurofconversationandthetappingdrum-rollofanoccasionallaugh.
Fromtheroomnextdoor,KhaledAnsari’sroom,Iheardtheunmistakableclikka-k’chuckofaKalashnikovAK-74assaultriflebeingcockedandcold-firedaftercleaning.
“Thebloodfeudthatbeganwiththosekillings-andwiththeirattempttokillme-destroyedmyfamilyandtheirs,”Khadersaidflatly,resuminghisstory.Hisexpressionwassombre,anditseemedasifthespiritwasdraininginvisiblyfromhisdowncasteyesashespoke.“Oneonourside,twoontheirs.Twoonourside,oneontheirs.Myfathertriedmanytimestofindawaytoendthefeud,butitwasimpossible.Itwasademonthatmovedfrommantoman,andmadeeachmanmadwiththeloveofkilling.
Itriedtoleavemyhome,becauseIwasthecauseofthefeud,butmyfatherrefusedtoletmeleave,andIcouldnotopposehim.Thefeudwentonforyears,andthekillingwentonforyears.Ilostmytwobrothers,andbothofmyuncles,myfather’sbrothers.Whenmyownfatherwasbadlywoundedinanattack,andunabletostopme,ItoldmyfamilytospreadtherumourthatIhadbeenkilled.Ileftmyfamilyhome.Thebloodfeudendedsometimeafterthat,andpeacewasrestoredbetweenthetwofamilies.
ButIwasdeadtomyfamily,becauseIhadswornanoathtomymotherthatIwouldneverreturn.”
Thebreezethroughthemetal-framedwindowthathadbeencoolintheearliereveningwassuddenlycold.Istoodtoclosethewindow,andthenpouredaglassofwaterfromtheclaypitcheronmynightstand.Khaderacceptedtheglass,whisperedaprayer,anddrankthewater.Hehandedmetheglasswhenhewasfinished.Ipouredwaterintothesameglassandsatdownonthestooltosipatmydrink.Isaidnothing,afraidthat,ifIaskedthewrongquestionormadethewrongcomment,hewouldstoptalkingaltogetherandleavetheroom.Hewascalm,andheseemedtobecompletelyrelaxed,butthebrilliant,laughinggleamwasmissingfromhiseyes.Itwasalsodisturbinglyoutofcharacterforhimtobesoexpansiveabouthisownlife.He’dtalkedtomeforlonghoursabouttheKoranorthelifeoftheProphetMohammedorthescientific,rationalbasisforhismoralphilosophy,butI’dneverknownhimtotellmeoranyoneelsesomuchabouthimself.InthelengtheningsilenceIlookedatthelean,sinewedfaceandIcontrolledeventhesoundofmybreathing,lestitdisturbhim.
WewerebothdressedinthestandardAfghancostumeofalong,looseshirtandwide-waistedpants.Hisclotheswerealight,fadedgreenandminewerepaleblue-white.Webothworeleathersandalsashouseslippers.AlthoughIwasheavieranddeeperinthechestthanKhaderbhai,wewereroughlythesameheightandbuildacrosstheshoulders.Hisshorthairandbeardwerewhitesilver,andmyshorthairwaswhite-blonde.Myskinwastannedtoashaderesemblinghisnatural,almond-shellbrown.Ifitwasn’tfortheskyinmyblue-greyeyesandthealluvialgoldinhis,wemight’vebeentakenforfatherandson.
“HowdidyougetfromKandahartotheBombaymafia?”Iaskedhimatlast,whenIfearedthatthelengtheningsilence,morethanmyquestions,mightmakehimleave.
Heturnedtofaceme.Hissmilewasradiant:anew,gentle,artlesssmilethathadnevermovedhisfacebeforeinanyconversationwithme.
“WhenIranawayfrommyhomeinKandahar,ImadeajourneyacrossPakistanandIndiatoBombay.Likeamillionothers,likemillionsofothers,IhopedtomakemyfortuneinthecityoftheHindipictureheroes.Atfirst,Ilivedinaslum-liketheonethatIownnow,neartheWorldTradeCentre.IpractisedtheHindilanguageeveryday,andIlearnedquickly.Afterawhile,IobservedthatmencouldmakemoneybuyingticketsforpopularpicturesatthecinemasandthensellingthemforaprofitwhenthecinemasputuptheHouseFullsigns.IdecidedtousethelittlemoneyI’dsavedtobuyticketsforthemostpopularHindipictureinBombay.ThenIstoodoutsidethecinema,andwhentheHouseFullsignswentupIsoldmyticketsforagoodprofit.”
“Scalping,”Isaid.“Wecallitticketscalping.It’sbigbusiness-black-marketbusiness-atthemostpopularfootballmatchesinmycountry.”
“Yes.AndImadeanexcellentprofitinthefirstweekofmywork.Ialreadybegantohavedreamsofmovingtoafineapartmentandwearingthebestclothes,perhapsevenbuyingacar.Then,onenight,Iwasstandingoutsidethecinemawithmyticketswhentwoverybigmencametome,showedmetheirweapons–theyhadaswordandameatchopper-anddemandedthatIgowiththem.”
“Localgoondas,”Ilaughed.
“Goondas,”herepeated,laughingwithme.ForthoseofuswhoknewhimaslordAbdelKhaderKhan,thedon,therulerofhiskingdomofcrimeinBombay,itwashilarioustopicturehimasashame-facedeighteen-year-oldinthecustodyoftwostreetthugs.
“TheytookmetoseeChotaGulab,theLittleRose.Hehadthatnameforthemarkonhischeekmadebyabulletthathadpassedthroughhisface,breakingmostofhisteeth,andleavingascarthatwaspinchedlikearose.Hewasthebossofthatwholeareainthosedays,andbeforehehadmebeatentodeath,asanexampletoothershewantedtotakealookattheimpudentfellowwhohadtrespassedonhisarea.
“Hewasfurious.`Whatareyoudoing,sellingticketsinmyarea?`heaskedme,speakingamixofHindiandEnglish.ItwasapoorEnglish,buthewantedtointimidatemewithit,asifhewasajudgeinacourtoflaw.`Doyouknowhowmanymendied,howmanymenIhadto_kill,howmanygoodmenI_lost,totakecontroloftheblack-marketticketsatallthecinemasinthisarea?`
“Iwasterrified,Iadmitittoyou,andIthoughtthatmylifewasbutafewminutes’worth.SoIthrewawaymycaution,andIspokeboldly.`Nowyouwillhavetoeliminateonemorenuisance,Gulabji,`Itoldhim,speakinganEnglishthatwasfarsuperiortohis,`becauseIhavenootherwayofmakingmoney,andIhavenofamily,andIhavenothingtolose.Unless,ofcourse,youhavesomedecentjobofworkthataloyalandresourcefulyoungmancandoforyou.`
“Well,helaughedoutloud,andheaskedmewhereIlearnedtospeakEnglishsowell,andwhenItoldhim,andwhenItoldhimmystory,hegavemeajobrightaway.Thenheshowedmehissmashedteeth,openinghismouthwidetopointoutthegoldreplacements.LookingintoChotaGulab’smouthwasarealhonouramongsthismen,andsomeofhisclosestgoondaswereveryjealousthatIgotsuchanintimatetourofthefamousmouthonmyveryfirstmeetingwithhim.Gulablikedme,andhebecameakindoffathertomeinBombay,butIhadenemiesaroundmefromthefirsttimethatIshookhishand.
“Iwenttoworkasasoldier,fightingwithmyfistsandwithswordsandcleaversandhammerstoenforceChotaGulab’sruleinthearea.Thosewerebaddays,beforethecouncilsystem,andtherewasfightingeverydayandnight.Afterawhile,oneofhismentookaspecialdisliketome.ResentfulofmycloserelationshipwithGulabji,hefoundareasontopickafightwithme.SoIkilledhim.Andwhenhisbestfriendattackedme,Ikilledhim,too.AndthenIkilledamanforChotaGulab.AndIkilledagain.Andagain.”
Hefellsilent,staringaheadatthefloorwhereitmetthemudbrickwall.Afteratime,hespoke.
“Andagain,”hesaid.
Herepeatedthephraseintoasilencethatwasthickeningaroundusandseemingtopressinuponmyburningeyes.
“Andagain.”
Iwatchedhimwadethroughthepast,hiseyesblazingrecollections,andthenheshookhimselfbackintothemoment.
“Itislate.Here,Iwanttogiveyouagift.”
Heopenedthechamois-leatherparceltorevealapistolinasideholster,severalmagazines,aboxofammunition,andametalbox.
Liftingbackthelidofthemetalbox,hedisplayedacleaningkitofoil,graphitepowder,tinyfiles,brushes,andanew,shortpull-throughcord.
“ThisisaStechkinAPSpistol,”hesaid,takinguptheweaponandremovingitsmagazine.Hecheckedtoensurethattherewasnoroundinthefiringchamber,andhandedthepistoltome.“ItisRussian.YouwillfindplentyofammunitiononthedeadRussians,ifyouhavetofightthem.Itisanine-millimetre-calibreweapon,withamagazineoftwentyrounds.Youcanfireitasasingleshot,orsetitonautomatic.Itisnotthebestgunintheworld,butitisreliable,andtheonlylightweaponwithmorebulletsinit,wherewearegoing,isaKalashnikov.Iwantyoutowearit,clearlydisplayedatalltimesfromnowon.Youeatwithit,yousleepwithit,andwhenyouwashyourself,youhaveitwithinyourreach.Iwanteveryonewhoiswithus,andeveryonewhoseesus,toknowthatyouhaveit.Doyouunderstand?”“Yes,”Ianswered,staringattheguninmyhands
“Itoldyouthatthereisapriceontheheadofeveryforeignerwhohelpsthemujaheddin.Iwantittobeso,thatsomeonewhomightthinkofthisreward,andofclaimingitwithyourhead,willalsothinkoftheStechkinatyourside.Doyouknowhowtocleananautomaticpistol?”
“No.”
“Verywell.Iwillshowyouhowitisdone.Thenyoumusttrytosleep.WeleaveforAfghanistanatfive,beforedawn,tomorrowmorning.Thewaitingisover.Thetimehascome.”
KhaderbhaishowedmehowtocleantheStechkin.ItwasmorecomplicatedthanI’dimagined,andittookthebestpartofanhourforhimtowalkmethroughtheinstructionsforitscompleteservice,repair,andhandlingprotocols.Itwasathrillinghour,andmenandwomenofviolencewillknowwhatImeanwhenIsaythatIwasdrunkwiththepleasureofit.IconfesswithnolittleshamethatIenjoyedthathourwithKhader,learninghowtouseandcleantheStechkinautomaticpistol,morethanthehundredsofhoursthatI’dspentwithhimwhilelearninghisphilosophy.AndIneverfeltclosertohimthanIdidthatnightaswehunchedovermyblanket,strippingandreassemblingthekillingweapon.
Whenheleftme,Iturnedoutthelightandlaybackonmycot,butIcouldn’tsleep.Mymindwascaffeine-alertinthedarkness.
AtfirstIthoughtaboutthestoriesKhaderhadtoldme.ImovedthroughthatdifferenttimeinthecityI’dcometoknowsowell.
IimaginedtheKhanasayoungman,fitanddangerousandfightingforChotaGulab,thegangsterbosswithalittlerosescaronhischeek.IknewotherpartsofKhader’sstory-I’dheardthemfromsomeofthegoondaswhoworkedforhiminBombay.
They’dtoldmehowKhaderbhaihadseizedcontrolofGulab’slittleempirewhenthescarredonewasassassinatedoutsideoneofhiscinemas.They’ddescribedthegangwarsthathaderuptedacrossthecity,andthey’dtalkedofKhader’scourage,andhisruthlessnessincrushinghisenemies.Iknew,aswell,thatKhaderbhaiwasoneofthefoundersofthecouncilsystem,whichhadbroughtpeacetothecitybydividingterritoriesandspoilsbetweenthesurvivinggangs.
Iwondered,asIlayinadarknessscentedwiththepolishedfloor-and-raw-linenodoursofthegunandthecleaningoil,whyKhaderbhaiwasgoingtowar.Hedidn’thavetogo-therewereahundredmorelikeme,preparedtodieforhiminhisplace.Irememberedhisstrangelyradiantsmilewhenhe’dtoldmeabouthisfirstmeetingwithChotaGulab.
Irecalledhowquickandyouthfulhishandshadbeenwhenhe’dshownmehowtocleanandusethegun.Anditoccurredtomethathemight’vebeenwithus,riskinghislife,simplybecausehewashungryforthewilderdaysofhisyouth.ThethoughtworriedmebecauseIwassurethatatleastsomesmallpartofitwastrue.
Butthatothermotive-thathe’djudgedthetimerighttoendhisexile,andtovisithishomeandfamily-worriedmemore.Icouldn’tforgetwhathe’dtoldme.Thebloodfeudthathadkilledsomanyanddrivenhimfromhishomehadonlyendedwithhispromise,tohismother,nevertoreturn.
Afterawhilemythoughtsdrifted,andIfoundmyselfreliving,momentformoment,thelongnightbeforemyescapefromprison.
That,too,wasanightwithoutsleep.That,too,wasanightofwheelingfearsandexhilarationanddread.AndjustasIhadonthatnightyearsbefore,Irosefrombedbeforethefirststirandshuffleofthemorning,andpreparedmyselfinthedark.
Soonafterdawn,wetookthetraintoChamanPass.Thereweretwelvefromourgrouponthetrain,butnoneofusspokethroughtheseveralhoursofthejourney.Nazeersatwithme,andwewerealoneformuchofthetrip,butstillheheldhisstonysilence.
Withmypaleeyesconcealedbehinddarksunglasses,Istaredthroughthewindowandtriedtolosemyselfinthespectacularview.
ThetrainridefromQuettatoChamanwasoneofthegloriesoftheillustrioussub-continentalrailwaysystem.Thetrackswoundthroughdeepgorgesandcrossedriverscapesofastoundingbeauty.
Ifoundmyselfrepeating,asiftheywerelinesofpoetry,theverynamesofthetownsthroughwhichitpassed.FromKuchlaaghtoBostaan,andthesmallrivercrossingatyaaruKaarez,thetrainclimbedtoShaadizai.AtGulistantherewasanotherclimb,withasweepingcurvethatfollowedtheancientdrylakeatQilaAbdullah.Andthejewelinthetwinsteel-bandsofthatcrown,ofcourse,wastheKhojakTunnel.BuiltbytheBritishoverseveralyearsattheendofthenineteenthcentury,itsmasheditswaythroughfourkilometresofsolidrock,andwasthelongestinthesub-continent.
AtKhaanKilithetrainnegotiatedaseriesofsharpcurves,andatthelastremoteregionalstopbeforeChamanweclimbeddownwithafewdustylocalsandweremetbyacoveredtruck.Whentheareawasdesertedweclimbedontotheextravagantlydecoratedtruck,andfollowedthemainroadtowardChaman.Beforewereachedthetown,however,wetookasideroadthatseemedtoendinadesertedtrack,withastandoftreesandseveralscrubbypastures,aboutthirtykilometresnorthofthemainhighwayandtheChamanPass.
Weclimbeddownfromthetruck,andasitdroveawaywemusteredintheshadeofthetreeswiththemaingroupofmen,who’dbeenwaitingthereforus.Itwasthefirsttimethatwe’dassembledinourfullnumber.Therewerethirtyofus,allmen,andforamomentIwasremindedofthemenwhogatheredinsimilargroupsinprisonyards.Thefightersseemedtoughanddeterminedand,althoughmanyofthemwereleantothepointofbeingthin,theylookedhealthyandfit.
Iremovedmysunglasses.AsIscannedthefaces,myeyesmetthoseofamanwhostaredbackatmefromtheheartofdarkness.
Hewasinhislatefortiesorearlyfifties,andperhapstheoldestmaninthegroupafterKhaderbhai.Hisshorthairwasgreybeneathabrown,round-edgedAfghancap,identicaltotheoneIworemyself.Hisshort,straightnosedividedalong,pointedfacethatwassodeeplylinedbeneaththesunkencheeksthatitappearedtohavebeenslashedwithamachete.Heavybagshungbelowhiseyes.Theatricallypeakedeyebrowslikethewingsofablackbatspikedabovehiseyes,butitwastheeyesthemselvesthatcaughtandheldme.
AsIlockedeyeswithhim,returninghispsychoticstare,themanbegantostumbletowardme.Afterthefirstfewshamblingsteps,hisbodytwitchedintoamoreefficientmode,andhebegantolope,coveringthethirtymetresthatseparatedusinlong,crouching,felinestrides.Forgettingthatthegunwasstrappedtomyside,myhandinstinctivelymovedtothehiltofmyknifeandItookhalfapacebackwardwithmyrightfoot.Iknewtheeyes.Iknewthelook.Themanwantedtofightme,perhapseventokillme.
Justashereachedme,shoutingsomethinginadialectthatIcouldn’trecognise,Nazeersteppedfromnowheretostandinfrontofmeandbarhisway.Heshoutedsomethingbackattheman,buttheotherignoredhim,staringpasthisheadatmeandshoutinghisquestion,againandagain.Nazeerrepeatedhisreply,shoutingtomatchtheother.ThecrazedfightertriedtoshoveNazeeroutofthewaywithbothhands,buthemightaswellhavetriedtopushasideatree.TheburlyAfghanstoodhisground,forcingthemadmantoshifthisgazefrommeforthefirsttime.
Acrowdhadformedaroundus.Nazeerheldtheman’slunaticstare,andspokeinsofter,pleadingtones.Iwaited,tensedandreadytofight.Wehaven’tevencrossedtheborderyet,Ithought,andI’mgoingtohavetostaboneofourownmen
“HewasaskingifyouareaRussian,”AhmedZadehmutteredfrombesideme,hisAlgerianaccentsrollingovertheRinRussian.Iflickedaglanceathim,andhepointedatmyhip.“Thegun.Andyourpaleeyes.HethinksyouareaRussian.”
Khaderbhaiwalkedbetweenthemen,andputhishandonthemadman’sshoulder.Themanturnedimmediately,andwitheyesthatseemedreadytoweep,searchedKhader’sface.KhaderrepeatedwhatNazeerhadbeenmurmuring,inasimilarlysoothingtone.Icouldn’tunderstandallofit,butthesensewasclear.No.HeisAmerican.TheAmericansareheretohelpus.HeisherewithustofighttheRussians.HewillhelpustokilltheRussians.Hewillhelpus.WewillkillmanyRussianstogether.
Whenthemanturnedtofacemeoncemore,hisexpressionhadchangedsodramaticallythatIwasmovedtopityhim,whenamomentbeforeIwasreadytorunmyknifeintohischest.Hiseyeswerestillderanged,hangingunnaturallywideandwhitebeneaththebrownirises,buthisfrenziedexpressionhadcollapsedintosuchwretched,pitiablemiserythathisfaceremindedmeofthemanyruinedstonecottageswe’dseenbesidetheroads.HelookedoncemoreintoKhader’sface,andthestutterofasmileflickeredacrosshisfeaturesasifanimatedbyanelectricpulse.Heturnedandwalkedawaythroughthecrowd.Thetoughmenpartedforhimwarily,compassionvyingwithfearintheireyesastheywatchedhimpass.
“Iamsorry,Lin,”AbdelKhadersaidsoftly.“HisnameisHabib.
HabibAbdurRahman.Heisaschoolteacher-well,heoncewasaschoolteacher,inavillageontheothersideofthesemountains.
Hetaughtthelittleones,theyoungestchildren.WhentheRussiansinvaded,sevenyearsago,hewasahappyman,withayoungwifeandtwostrongsons.Hejoinedtheresistance,likeeveryotheryoungmanintheregion.TwoyearsagohereturnedfromamissiontofindthattheRussianshadattackedhisvillage.Theyhadusedgas,somekindofnervegas.”
“Theydenyit,”AhmedZadehinterjected.“Butwhiletheyfightthiswartheyaretestingtheirnewweapons.Alotoftheweaponsusedhere,landminesandrocketsandeverything,arenewexperimentalweaponsthathaveneverbeenusedinawarbefore.LikethegasthattheyusedonHabib’svillage.Thereisnowarlikethisone.”
“Habibwanderedalonethroughthevillage,”Khadercontinued.
“Everyonewasdead.Allthemenandthewomenandthechildren.
Allthegenerationsofhisfamily-hisgrandparents,frombothsides,hisparents,hiswife’sparents,hisunclesandaunties,hisbrothersandsisters,hiswife,andhischildren.Allgone,injustonehourofoneday.Eventheanimals,thegoatsandthesheepandthechickens,werealldead.Eventheinsectsandthebirdsweredead.Nothingmoved.Nothinglivedandnothingsurvived.”
“Hemake…abury…allmen…allwomen…allchildrens…”Nazeeradded.
“Heburiedthemall,”Khadernodded.“Allhisfamily,andhisfriendsfromchildhood,andhisneighbours.Ittooksolongtodoit,allalone,thatitwasaverybadbusiness,attheend.Then,whenthejobwasdone,hetookuphisgunandrejoinedhismujaheddinunit.Butthelosshadchangedhiminaterribleway.
Thistimehewaslikeadifferentman.ThistimehedideverythinginhispowertocaptureaRussian,oranAfghansoldierfightingfortheRussians.Andwhenhecapturedone-andhedidcapturethem,manyofthem,becausehewasverygoodatitafterthat-whenhedidcapturethem,hetorturedthemtodeathbyimpalingthemonasharpenedsteelspike,madefromthewoodenhandleandthebladeoftheshovelhehadusedtoburyhisfamily.Hehasitnow.Youcanseeitstrappedtothetopofhispack.Hetiestheprisonerstothespikebytheirhands,behindtheirbacks,withthespiketouchingtheirbacks.Atthemomentthattheirstrengthfailsthem,andthemetalspikebeginstotearitswaythroughtheirbodies,forcingitswayoutthroughtheirstomachs,Habibleansoverthem,staringintotheireyes,andspitsintotheirscreamingmouths.”
KhaledAnsari,Nazeer,AhmedZadeh,andIstoodinadeeplybreathingsilence,waitingforKhadertospeakagain.
“Thereisnomanwhoknowsthesemountains,andtheregionbetweenhereandKandahar,betterthanHabib,”Khaderconcluded,sighingwearily.“Heisthebestguide.Hehassurvivedhundredsofmissionsinthisregion,andhewillgetustoourmeninKandahar.Andthereisnomanmoreloyalortrustworthy,becausethereisnomaninAfghanistanwhohatestheRussiansmorethanHabibAbdurRahman.But…”“Heiscompletelyinsane,”AhmedZadehofferedintothesilencewithaGallicshrug,andIfoundmyselflikinghim,suddenly,andmissingmyfriendDidierinthesameinstant.ItwasjustthekindofpragmaticandbrutallyhonestsummarythatDidiermight’vemade.
“Yes,”Khaderagreed.“Heisinsane.Hisgriefhasdestroyedhismind.Andforasmuchasweneedhim,thereisthefactthathemustbewatchedatalltimes.EverymujaheddinunitfromheretoHerathascasthimout.WearefightingtheAfghanarmythatservestheRussians,butthefactisthattheyareAfghans.WereceivemostofourinformationfromsoldiersintheAfghanarmywhowantto_helpustowinagainsttheirRussianmasters.Habibcannotmakethisfinedistinction.Hehasonlyoneunderstandingofthiswar:tokillthemallquickly,ortokillthemslowly.
Andhepreferstokillthemslowly.Thereissuchacruelviolenceinhimthatitfrightenshisfriendsnolessthanhisenemies.Sohemustbewatched,whileheiswithus.”
“I’llwatchoverhim,”KhaledAnsarideclaredfirmly,andweallturnedtolookatourPalestinianfriend.Hisfacewassetinanexpressionofsufferingandangeranddetermination.Theskinwastightacrosshiseyesfrombrowtobrow,andhismouthwasdrawnintoawide,flatlineoftenaciousresolve.
“Verywell…”Khaderbegan,andhewould’vesaidmore,butwiththosetwowordsofconsentKhaledleftusandwalkedtowardtheslumped,forlornfigureofHabibAbdurRahman.
Watchinghimleave,Iwasstruckwithasudden,clutchinginstincttocryoutandstophim.Itwasafoolishthing-anirrationalstabbingdreadthatIwaslosinghim,losinganotherfriend.Anditwassoridiculous,sopettyinitsjealousy,thatIbitdownonitandsaidnothing.ThenIwatchedhimsitdownoppositeHabib.Iwatchedhimreachouttoliftthegaping,murderousfaceofthemadmanuntiltheireyesmetandheld,andIknew,withoutunderstandingit,thatKhaledwaslosttous.
Idraggedmyeyesfromthesightofthem,asboatmendragalakewithstarryhooks.Mymouthwasdry.Myheartwasaprisonerpoundingonthewallsinsidemyhead.Mylegsfeltleaden,fixedtotheearthwithrootsofshameanddread.AndasIlookedupatthesheer,impassablemountains,Ifeltthefutureshudderthroughmelikethundertremblingthroughthelimbsandweariedvinesofastormingwillow.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
ThemainroadfromChaman,inthoseyears,crossedatributaryoftheDhariRiveronthewaytoSpinBaldak,Dabrai,andMelkaarezonthehighwayroutetoKandahar.Thewholejourneywaslessthantwohundredkilometres.Bycar,ittookafewhours.Wedidn’ttakethehighwayroute,ofcourse,andwedidn’thavecars.Werodeonhorsebackoverahundredmountainpasses,andthesamejourneytookusmorethanamonth.
Wespentthatfirstdaycampedbeneaththetrees.Thebaggage-thegoodsweweresmugglingintoAfghanistan,andourpersonalsupplies-wasscatteredinanearbypasture,coveredbysheepskinsandgoatskinstogivetheappearance,ifseenfromtheair,ofaherdoflivestock.Therewereevenafewrealgoatstetheredamongthewoollybundles.Whenduskfinallysmotheredthesunset,awhisperofexcitementwentthroughthecamp.Wesoonheardthemuffledtreadofhoovesasourhorsesapproached.
Thereweretwentyridinghorsesandfifteenpackanimals.ThehorseswerealittlesmallerthanthoseI’dlearnedtorideon,andmyheartliftedwithhopethatImightfindthemeasiertocontrol.Mostofthemenmovedoffatoncetohoistandsecurethebaggageontothepackanimals.Istartedofftojointhem,butNazeerandAhmedZadehinterceptedme,leadingtwohorses.
“Thisoneismine,”Ahmedannounced.“Andthatoneisyours.”
Nazeerhandedthereinstome,andcheckedthestrapsontheshort,thinAfghansaddle.Satisfyinghimselfthatallwasasitshouldbe,henoddedhisapproval.
“Horsegood,”hesaid,inhisgrunting,gravel-throatedversionofgoodhumour.
“Allhorsegood,”Ireplied,quotinghim.“Allmannotgood.”
“Thehorseissuperb,”Ahmedconcurred,castinganadmiringeyeovermyhorse.Shewasachestnutmare,withadeepchestandstrong,thick,relativelyshortlegs.Hereyeswerealertandunafraid.
“Nazeerpickedherforyoufromallthatwehave.Hewasthefirsttoreachher,andtherearesomedisappointedmenbackthere.Heisagoodjudge.”
“We’vegotthirtymen,bymycount,butthere’slessthanthirtyridinghorseshere,forsure,”Iremarked,pattingattheneckofmyhorse,andtryingtoestablishfirstcontactwiththebeast.
“Yes,somerideandsomewalk,”Ahmedreplied.Heputhisleftfootinhisstirrupandswungintothesaddlewithaneffortlessspring.“Wetaketurns.Therearegoats,tengoatswithus,andmenwillherdthem.Andwewilllosesomemenonourway,also.
ThehorsesarereallyagiftforKhader’speoplenearKandahar.
Wewouldbebetteronthistripwithcamels.Donkeyswouldbethebest,inmyopinion,inthenarrowpasses.Butthehorsesareanimalsofgreatstatus.IthinkKhaderinsistedonusinghorsesbecauseitisimportanthowwelookwhenwemakecontactwiththewildclans-themenwhowillwanttokillus,andtakeourgunsandourmedicines.Thehorseswillmakeusimportantintheireyes.AndtheywillbeagiftofmuchprestigeforKhaderKhan’speople.HeplanstogivethemawayonthewaybackfromKandahar.
WewillridesomeofthewaytoKandahar,butwewillwalkallthewayhome!”
“Didyousaywe’regoingto_losesomemen?”Iasked,frowningupathim.
“Yes!”helaughed.“Somemenwillleaveusontheway,toreturntotheirvillages.Butyes,also,itmightbethatsomewilldieonthisjourney.Butwewilllive,youandI,Inshallah.Wehavegoodhorses.Itisagoodbeginning!”
Hewheeledthehorseexpertlyandcanteredovertoamountedgroupwho’dassembledaroundKhaderbhaisomefiftymetresaway.IglancedatNazeer.Henoddedformetomountthehorse,offeringmeanencouraginglittlegrimaceandamutteredprayer.WebothfullyexpectedthatIwouldbethrown,andhiseyesbegantocloseincringinganticipation.Iputmyfootinthestirrupandsprangoffwithmyrightfoot.IhitthesaddlewithaharderjoltthanI’dplanned,butthehorserespondedwelltothemountanddippedherheadtwice,anxioustomoveoff.Nazeeropenedoneeyetoseemesittingcomfortablyonthenewhorse.Delightedandflushedwithunselfconsciouspride,hebeamedoneofhisraresmilesatme.Ituggedatthereinstoturnthehorse’shead,andkickedbackward.Thehorserespondedcalmly,butwithasmart,stylish,almostprancingeleganceinitsmovement.Snappingatonceintoagracefulcanter,shetookmetowardKhaderbhai’sgroupwithnofurtherprompting.
Nazeerranalongwithus,alittlebehindandtotheleftofmyhorse.Iglancedovermyshoulderandexchangedequallywideeyed,bewilderedlookswithhim.Thehorsewasmakingmelookgood.It’sgonnabeokay,Iwhisperedtomyself,knowing,asthewordstrottedthroughthethickfogofvainhopeinmymind,thatI’dutteredthecertainjinxformula.Thesaying,pridegoeth…beforeafall…iscondensedfromthesecondcollectionoftheBookofProverbs,16:18-Pridegoethbeforedestructionandahaughtyspiritbeforeafall.It’sattributedtoSolomon.Ifhedidsayit,Solomonwasamanwhoknewhorsesintimatelywell;muchbetterthanIdidasIclickeduptoKhader’sgroupandreinedthehorseinasthoughIknew-asthoughIwouldeverknow–whatIwasdoinginasaddle.
KhaderwasspeakinginPashtoandUrduandFarsi,givingthemenlast-minuteinstructions.IleanedacrosstowhispertoAhmedZadeh.
“Where’sthepass?Ican’tseeitinthedark.”
“Whatpass?”hewhisperedback.
“Thepassthroughthemountains.”
“YoumeanChaman?”heasked,mystifiedbythequestion.“It’sbackthere,thirtykilometresbehindus.”
“No,ImeanhowdowegetthroughthosemountainsintoAfghanistan?”Iasked,noddingtowardthesheerrockwallsthatbegantoriselessthanakilometreawayfromus,andpeakedintheblacknightskyabove.
“Wedon’tgothroughthemountains,”Ahmedreplied,gesturingalittlejabwiththereinsinhishands.“Wegooverthem.”
“Over…them…”
“Oui.”
“Tonight.”
“Oui.”
“Inthedark.”
“Oui,”herepeatedseriously.“Butnoproblem.Habib,thefou,thecrazyone,heknowstheway.Hewillleadus.”
“I’mgladyoutoldmethat.Iwasworried,Iadmit,butIfeelalotbetteraboutitnow.”Hiswhiteteethflashedalaughatmeandthen,withasignalfromKhaled,wemovedoff,churningslowlyintoasinglecolumnthatstretchedtoalmostahundredmetres.Thereweretenmenwalking,twentymenriding,fifteenpackhorses,andaherdoftengoats.InoticedwithdeepchagrinthatNazeerwasoneofthemenwalking.Itwasabsurdandunnatural,somehow,thatsuchafinehorsemanwaswalkingwhileIrode.Iwatchedhim,aheadofmeinthedarkness,watchedtherhythmicrollofhisthick,slightlybowedlegs,andIsworetomyselfthatIwouldconvincehim,atthefirstrestbreak,totaketurnswithmeinridingmyhorse.Idideventuallysucceedinthatresolve,butNazeerwassoreluctantlypersuadedthathegloweredmiserablyatmefromthesaddle,andonlyeverbrightenedwhenourpositionsreversedandhelookedupatmefromtherockypath.
Youdon’trideahorseoveramountain,ofcourse.Youpushanddragandsometimeshelpto_carryahorseoveramountain.AswenearedthebaseofthesheercliffsthatformtheChamanrange,dividingthesouthwesternpartofAfghanistanfromPakistan,itbecameclearthattherewereinfactgapsandpathwaysandtrailsleadingintoandoverthem.Whathadseemedtobesmoothwallsofbare,mountainousrockprovedoncloserinspectiontobeformedinundulatingwavesofravinesandtieredcrevices.Ledgesofstoneandlime-encrustedbarrenearthwoundthroughthoserockyslopes.Inplacestheledgesweresowideandwellflattenedastoseemlikeaman-maderoad.Inplacestheyweresojaggedandnarrowthateveryfootstepofhorseormanwasbroodedoverwithcareful,tremblingconsiderationbeforeitwasmade.Andthewholeofit,thewholestumbling,slipping,dragging,shovingbreachofthemountainbarrier,wasdoneinthedark.
OurswasasmallcaravanwhencomparedtotheoncemightytribalprocessionsthathadpliedthesilkroutebetweenTurkeyandChinaandIndia,butinthattimeofwarournumberswereremarkable.Thefearofbeingseenfromtheairwasaconstantworry.Khaderbhaiimposedastrictblackout:nocigarettes,torches,orlampsonthemarch.Therewasaquartermoonthatfirstnight,butoccasionallytheslipperypathsledusthroughnarrowdefileswheresmoothrockroseupsharply,drowningusinshadows.Inthoseblack-walledcorridorsitwasimpossibletoseemyownhandheldinfrontofmyface.Thewholecolumnincheditswayalongtheblindcleftsintherockwall,menandhorsesandgoatspressedhardagainstthestone,andshufflingintooneanother.
Inthecentreofjustsuchablackravine,Iheardalowwhiningsoundthatrosequicklyinpitch.Iwaswalking,orslidingmyfeet,betweentwohorses.Ihadthereinsofmyhorseinmyrighthand,andthetailofthehorseinfrontwrappedaroundmylefthand.Myfacewasslidingagainstthegranitewall,andthepathbeneathmyfeetwasnowiderthanthelengthofmyarm.Asthesoundroseinitspitchandintensity,thetwohorsesrearedinthesameinstinct,andstampedtheirhoovesinstaccatofear.
Thenthewhiningsoundsuddenlyeruptedinaroarthatrattledthewholemountain,andrippedintoanexplosive,shriekingscreamofsatanicnoisedirectlyoverourheads.
Thehorsetomyleftbuckedandrearedinfrontofme,pullingitstailfrommyhand.Tryingtoretrieveit,Ilostmyfootinginthedarkandslidtomyknees,myfacescrapingagainsttherockwall.Myownhorsewasterrified,asfrightenedasIwasmyself,anditstruggledforwardonthenarrowpath,followinganimpulsetorun.Istillheldthereins,andIusedthemtopullmyselftomyfeet,butthehorserammedintomeagainwithitshead,andIfeltmyselfslidebackwardfromthepath.FearstabbedintomychestandcrushedmyheartasIstumbled,slid,andfelloffthepathintothelightlessvoid.Ifellthefulllengthofmybody,andstoppedwithawrenchingsnapasthereinsinmyhandheldfast.
Iwasdanglinginfreespaceoverablackabyss.MillimetrebymillimetreIfeltthedownwardcreep,theeasing,slippingcreakofleatherasIslidfurtherfromtheedgeofthenarrowledge.Icouldheartheshoutsofmen,allalongtheledgeaboveme.Theyweretryingtocalmtheanimals,andtheywerecallingoutnamestoaccountfortheirfriends.Icouldhearthehorsesscreamingtheirfearandsnortinginprotest.Theairintheravinewasthickwiththesmellsofpissandhorseshitandfrightenedmansweat.AndIcouldhearthescrabbling,scrapingclatterofhoovesasmyownhorsestruggledtomaintainitsfooting.Isuddenlyrealisedthatasstrongasthehorseundoubtedlywas,itsfootholdonthecrumbling,jaggedpathwassoprecariousthatmyweightmightVebeenenoughtodragitovertheledgewithme.
Flailingwithmylefthandintheimpenetrabledark,Igraspedthereinsandbegantodragmyselfbackuptotheledge.IputonesetoffingertipsontheedgeofthestonypathandthenchokedascreamasIslippedbackwardsintothedarkcrevasse.
Thereinsheldagain,andIdangledoverthegap,butmysituationwasdesperate.Thehorse,fearingthatitwouldbedraggedovertheedge,wasshakinganddippingitsheadviolently.Anintelligentanimal,shewastryingtoridherselfofthebridle,bit,andharness.Atanymoment,Iknew,shewouldsucceed.Igaveasnarlofragethroughclenchedteethanddraggedmyselftotheledgeoncemore
Scramblinguptomyknees,Igaspedinsweatingexhaustionandthen,workingtoanintuitionthatstartsinfearandspikesonajetofadrenaline,Ijumpedupandtomyrightasmyneighbour’shorsekickedoutintheblack,blindnight.IfIhadn’tmoved,itwould’vestruckmeonthesideofthehead,andmywarwould’veendedthereandthen.Instead,thelife-savingreflextojumpmeantthattheblowstruckmyhipandthigh,drivingmeintothewallandagainstmyownhorse’shead.Ithrewmyarmsaroundtheanimal’sneck,asmuchtocomfortmyselfwithitstouchastosupportmynumblegandachinghip.IwasstillcradlingherheadinmyarmswhenIheardshufflingstepsandfeltsomeone’shandsslidefromthewallontomyback.
“Lin!Isthatyou?”KhaledAnsariaskedintothedarkness.
“Khaled!Yeah!Areyouokay?”
“Sure.Jetfighters!Fuckme!Twoofthem.Notfaroverhead.Ahundredfeet,man,nomorethanthat.Fuck!Theywerereallysmashingupthesoundbarrier!Whatanoise!”
“WeretheyRussians?”
“No,Idon’tthinkso.Notthisclosetotheborder.MorelikelytheywerePakistanifighters,AmericanplaneswithPakpilots,crossingalittleintoAfghanspacetokeeptheRussiansontheirtoes.Theywon’tgotoofar.TheRussianMiGpilotsaretoogood.
ButthePaksliketoremindthemthey’rehere,justthesame.Areyousureyou’reallright?”
“Sure,sure,”Ilied.“I’llbealotbetterwhenwegetoutofthisfuckin’dark.Callmeaweakmotherfucker,butIliketoseewhereI’mgoingwhenI’mtryingtoleadahorsealongaledgeoutsideaten-storeybuilding.”
“Me,too,”Khaledlaughed.Itwasthesmall,sadlaugh,butIdrenchedmyselfinthereassuranceofit.“Whowasbehindyou?”
“Ahmed,”Ireplied.“AhmedZadeh.IheardhimswearinginFrenchbackthere.Ithinkhe’sokay.Nazeerwasbehindhim.AndIknowMahmoud,theIranian,wasnearhimsomewhere.Therewereabouttenbehindme,Ithink,countingthetwoguysherdingthegoats.”
“I’llgocheck,”Khaledsaid,givingmeacomfortingslapontheshoulder.“Youkeepgoing.Justslidealongthewallforanotherhundredyardsorso.It’snotfar.There’sstillsomemoonlightwhenyougetoutthere,outsidethisravine.Goodluck.”
Andforafewmoments,whenIreachedthatpaleoasisofmoonlight,Ifeltsafeandsureofmyself.Thenwepushedon,huggingthecold,greystoneofthecanyon-silo,andinminuteswewereinblacknessagain,withnothingbutfaithandfearandthewilltosurvive.
WetravelledsooftenatnightthatwesometimesseemedtobefeelingourwaytoKandaharlikeblindmen,withourfingertips.
And,likeblindmen,wetrustedHabib,withoutquestion,asourguide.NoneoftheAfghansinourgrouplivedintheborderregion,andtheywereasdependentonhisknowledgeofthosesecretpassesandfortuitousledge-pathwaysasIwas.
Whenhewasn’tleadingthecolumn,however,Habibinspiredfarlessconfidence.IcameuponhimonceasIscrambledoversomerockstofindaplacetotakeapissduringareststop.Hewaskneelinginfrontofaroughlysquareslabofstone,andbeatinghisforeheadagainstit.Ileaptdowntostophim,anddiscoveredthathewasweeping,sobbing.Thebloodfromhistornforeheadrandownhisfacetomixwiththetearsinhisbeard.Ipouredalittlewaterfrommycanteenontoacornerofmyscarf,andwipedthebloodfromhisheadtoexaminethewounds.Theywereroughandjagged,butlargelysuperficial.Heallowedmetoleadhim,unprotesting,backtothecamp.Khaledrushedupatonceandhelpedmetoapplyointmentandacleanbandagetohisforehead.
“Ilefthimalone,”Khaledmutteredwhenthejobwasdone.“Ithoughthewaspraying.Hetoldmehewantedtopray.ButIhadafeeling…”
“Ithinkhewaspraying,”Ianswered.
“I’mworried,”Khaledconfessed,lookingintomyeyeswithafebrilemixofheartbreakandfear.“Hekeepssettingmantrapsallovertheplace.He’sgottwentygrenadesonhimunderthatcloak.I’vetriedtoexplaintohimthatamantraphasnoconscience-itmightjustaseasilykillalocalnomadshepherd,oroneofus,asaRussianoranAfghansoldier.Hedoesn’tgetit.Hejustgrinsatme,anddoesitalittlebitmoresecret.Heriggedsomeofthehorseswithexplosivesyesterday.HesaiditwastomakesuretheRussiansdidn’tgettheirhandsonthem.Isaidtohim,whataboutus?WhatiftheRussiansgettheirhandsonus?Shouldweberiggedwithexplosives,too?Hesaiditwasaproblemheworriedaboutallthetime-howtomakesureweweredeadbeforetheRussiansgottheirhandsonus,andhowtokillmoreRussiansafterweweredead.”
“DoesKhaderknow?”
“No.I’mtryingtokeepHabibinline.Iknowwherehe’scomingfrom,Lin.I’vebeenthere.Thefirstcoupleyearsaftermyfamilywaskilled,Iwasascrazyasheis.Iknowwhat’sgoingoninsidehim.He’sfilledupwithsomanydeadfriendsandenemiesthathe’skindoflockedononecourse-killingRussians–anduntilhesnapsoutofit,IjustgottastaywithhimasmuchasIcan,andwatchhisass.”
“IthinkyoushouldtellKhader,”Isighed,shakingmyhead.
“Iwill,”hesighedinreturn.“Iwill.Soon.I’lltalktohimsoon.He’llgetbetter.Habibwillgetbetter.He’sgettingbetterinsomeways.Icantalktohimrealwellnow.He’llmakeit.”
Butastheweeksofthejourneypassed,weallwatchedHabibmoreclosely,morefearfully,andlittlebylittleweallrealisedwhysomanyothermujaheddinunitshadcasthimout.
Withoursensesalertformenacefromwithoutandwithin,wetravelledbynight,andsometimesbyday,northalongthemountainousbordertowardsPathaanKhel.Nearthekhel,orvillage,weswungnorth-north-westintodesertedmountainousterrainthatwasveinedwithcold,fresh,sweet-waterstreams.
Habiblaidoutaroutethatwasroughlyequidistantbetweentownsandlargervillages,alwaysavoidingthemainarteriesthatlocalpeopleused.WetrudgedbetweenPathaanKhelandKhairoThaana;betweenHumaiKhaarezandHajiAaghaMuhammad.WefordedriversbetweenLoeKaarezandyaaru.WezigzaggedbetweenMullahMustafaandthelittlevillageofAbdulHamid.
Localpirates,demandingtribute,stoppedusthreetimesontheway.Eachtime,theyrevealedthemselvesatfirstinhighvantagepoints,withgunstrainedonus,beforetheirgroundforcessweptfromhidingtolockthewayforwardandcutoffourretreat.Eachtime,Khaderraisedhisgreen-and-whitemujaheddinflagemblazonedwiththeKoranicphrase:
InalillaheywainaillaihirajiaonWecomefromGod,anduntoGoddowereturnAlthoughthelocalclansdidn’trecogniseKhader’sstandard,theyrespecteditslanguageandintent.Theirfierce,belligerentposturesremained,however,untilKhader,Nazeer,andourAfghanfightersexplainedtothemthatthegroupwastravellingwith,andundertheprotectionof,anAmerican.Whenthelocalpirateshadexaminedmypassportandstaredhardintomyblue-greyeyes,theywelcomedusascomrades-in-arms,andinvitedustodrinkteaandfeastwiththem.Theinvitationwasaeuphemismforthehonourofpayingthematribute.AlthoughnoneofthepiratesweencounteredwantedtoupsetthecriticallyimportantAmericanaidthathelpedtosustaintheminthelongyearsofthewarbyattackinganAmerican-sponsoredcaravan,itwasunthinkablethatwemightpassthroughtheirterritorywithoutprovidingsomeplunder.Khaderhadbroughtasupplyofbaksheeshgoodsforthatverypurpose.Thereweresilksinpeacockblueandgreen,withrichinter-weavingsofgoldthread.Therewerehatchetsandthick-bladedknivesandsewingkits.TherewereZeissbinoculars–Khaderhadgivenmeapair,andIusedthemeveryday-andmagnifyingspectaclesforreadingtheKoran,andsolid,Indianmadeautomaticwatches.Andfortheclanleaderstherewasasmallhoardofgoldtablets,eachweighingonetola,orabouttengrams,andembossedwiththeAfghanlaurel.
Khaderhadn’tmerelyanticipatedthosepirateattacks;he’dcountedonthem.Oncetheformalcourtesiesandtributenegotiationswereconcluded,Khaderarrangedwitheachlocalclanleadertore-supplyourcaravan.There-supplyprovideduswithrationswhilewewereonthemove,andalsoguaranteedusfoodandanimalfeedatfraternalvillagesthatwereunderthecontrolorprotectionoftheclanleader.
There-supplywasessential.Themunitions,machineparts,andmedicinesthatwecarriedwerepriorities,andleftuslittleroomforsurpluscargo.Thuswecarriedalittlefoodforthehorses-twodays’rationatmost-butwecarriednofoodatallforourselves.Eachmanhadacanteenofwater,butitwasunderstoodthatitwasanemergencyration,tobeusedsparinglyforourselvesandthehorses.Manywerethedayswepassedwithnomorethanoneglassofwatertodrink,andonesmallpieceofnaanbreadtoeat.Iwasavegetarian,withoutbeingafanaticaboutit,whenIstartedonthatjourney.ForyearsI’dusuallypreferredtoeatmyfruitandvegetabledietwhenitwasavailable.Threeweeksintothetrek,afterdragginghorsesacrossmountainsandfreezingrivers,andtremblingfromhunger,Ifellonthelambandgoatmeatthatthepiratesofferedus,andrippedthefleshhalf-cookedfromtheboneswithmyteeth.
Thesteepmountainslopesofthecountrywerebarren,burnedoflifebybitingwintrywinds,buteveryflatplain,nomatterhowsmall,wasavivid,livinggreen.Therewerewildflowerswithred,starryfaces,andotherswithsky-bluepom-pomheads.Therewereshort,scrubbybusheswithtinyyellowleavesthatthegoatsenjoyed,andmanyvarietiesofwildgrassestoppedwithfeatherybowersofdriedseedforthehorses.Therewerelime-greenmossesonmanyoftherocks,andpalerlichensonothers.Theimpactofthosetender,viridescentcarpetsbetweentheendlesslyundulatingcrocodile’sbackofnakedstonemountainswasfargreaterthanitmightVebeeninamorefertileandequablelandscape.Werespondedtoeachnewsightofasoftlycarpetedinclineortufted,leafymoorwithsimilarpleasure-adeep,subliminalresponsetothevitalityinthecolourgreen.Morethanafewofthetough,hardenedfighters,trudgingbetweenthewalkinghorses,stoopedtogatheralittleclutchofflowerssothattheymightsimplyfeelthebeautyofthemintheirdryandcallousedhands.
MystatusasKhader’sAmericanhelpedustonegotiatethebadlandsofthelocalpirates,butitalsocostusaweekwhenwewerestoppedforthethirdandlasttime.InanefforttoavoidthelittlevillageofAbdulHamid,ourguideHabibledusintoasmallcanyonthatwasjustwideenoughforthreeorfourhorsestorideside-by-side.Steeprockwallsroseuponeithersideofthecanyontrailforalmostakilometrebeforethefunnelopenedoutintoamuchlonger,widervalley.Itwastheperfectplaceforanambushand,inanticipation,Khaderrodeattheheadofourcolumnwithhisgreen-and-whitebannerunfurled.
Thechallengecamebeforewewereahundredmetresintothegorge.Therewasachillingululationfromhighabove-men’svoicesraisedinanimitationofthehigh-pitched,warblingwailoftribalwomen-andasuddentumbleofsmallbouldersasalittleavalanchespilledintothecanyonbeforeus.Likeothers,Iturnedinmysaddletoseethataplatoonoflocaltribesmenhadtakenuppositionsbehinduswithavarietyofweaponstrainedonourbacks.Wehaltedimmediately,atthefirstsound.
Khaderslowlyrodeonaloneforsometwohundredmetres.Hestoppedthere,withhisbackstraightinthesaddle,andhisstandardflutteringinthestrong,chillbreeze.
Thesecondsofalongminutetickedawaywiththegunsbehindus,andtherockspoisedabove.Thenalonefigureappeared,ridingtowardKhaderonatallcamel.Althoughthetwo-humpedBactriancamelisnativetoAfghanistan,therider’swasasingle-humpedArabiancamel;thetypebredbylongdistancecameleersofthenorthernTajikregionforuseinextremesofcold.Ithadamopofhaironitshead,thickandshaggyneck-fur,andlong,powerfullegs.Themanridingthatimpressivebeastwastallandlean,andappearedtobeatleasttenyearsolderthanKhader’sfitsixty-plus.Heworealong,whiteshirtoverwhiteAfghanpants,andaknee-length,sleeveless,blacksergevest.Asnowywhiteturbanofsumptuouslengthwaspiledmajesticallyonhishead.Hisgrey-whitebeardwastrimmedawayfromtheupperlipandthemouth,descendingfromhischintonudgehisthinchest.
SomeofmyfriendsinBombayhadcalledthatkindofbeardaWahabi,afterthesternlyorthodoxSaudiArabianMuslimswhotrimmedtheirbeardsinthatwaytoimitatethestylepreferredbytheProphet.Itwasasigntous,inthecanyon,thatthestrangerpossessedatleastasmuchmoralauthorityastemporalpower.Thelatterwasemphasisedwithspectaculareffectbytheantique,long-barrelledjezailthatheheldupright,balancedonhiship.Themuzzle-loadedriflewasdecoratedalongallofitswoodensurfaceswithgleamingdiscs,scrolls,anddiamondshapesfashionedfrombrassandsilvercoinsandpolishedtoadazzlingbrilliance.
ThemandrewupbesideKhaderbhai,facingusandwithinahand’sreachofourKhan.Hisbearingwascommanding,anditwasclearthathewasaccustomedtoacomprehensiverespect.Hewas,infact,oneoftheveryfewmenIevercametoknowwhoequalledAbdelKhaderKhanintheesteem-perhapseventheveneration-thathecommandedfromotherswithnothingmore,orless,thanhisbearingandthesheerforceofhisfullyrealisedlife.
Afteralengthydiscussion,Khaderbhaiwheeledhishorsegentlytofaceus.
“MisterJohn!”hecalledtome,usingthefirstnameinmyfalseAmericanpassport,andspeakinginEnglish.“Comeheretome,please!”
Ikickedbackward,utteringwhatIhopedwasanencouragingsound.Alleyesonthegroundandaboveuswereonme,Iknew,andintheswollen,silentsecondsIhadavisionofthehorsethrowingmetothegroundatKhader’sfeet.Butthemarerespondedwithasmart,prancingcanter,andfoundherownwaythroughthecolumntostopatKhader’sside.“ThisisHajjiMohammed,”Khaderannounced.Hesweptarounduswithabroadmovementofhisopenpalm.“HeistheKhan,theleaderofallthepeople,inalltheclans,andallthefamilieshere.”
“Asalaamaleikum,”Isaidingreeting,holdingmyhandovermyheartasagestureofrespect.
Believingmetobeaninfidel,theleaderdidn’trespondtomygreeting.TheProphetMohammedadjuredhisfollowerstoreturnthepeacefulgreetingofabelieverwithanevenmorepolitegreeting.ThusthegreetingAsalaamaleikum,Peacebewithyou,should’vebeenanswered,attheveryleast,withWaaleikumsalaamwarahmatullah,AndwithyoubepeaceandthecompassionofAllah.Instead,theoldmanstareddownfromhisperchonthecamelandgreetedmewithahardquestion.
“WhenwillyougiveusStingerstofightwith?”
ItwasthesamequestioneveryAfghanhadaskedme,theAmerican,sincewe’denteredthecountry.AndalthoughKhaderbhaitranslateditformeagain,IunderstoodthewordsandI’drehearsedtheanswer.
“Itwillbesoon,ifAllahwillsit,andtheskywillbeasfreeasthemountains.”
ItwasagoodanswerandHajjiMohammedwaspleasedwithit,butitwasamuchbetterquestion,anditdeservedabetterresponsethanmyhopefullie.TheAfghans,fromMazar-i-ShariftoKandahar,knewthatiftheAmericanshadgiventhemStingermissilesattheoutbreakofthewar,themujaheddinwould’vebeatentheinvadersbackwithinmonths.StingersmeantthatthehatedandmortallyeffectiveRussianhelicopterscouldbesmashedfromtheskies.EventheformidableMiGfighterswerevulnerabletoahand-launchedStingermissile.Withouttheinsuperableadvantageoftheair,theRussiansandtheirAfghanarmyproxieswouldbeforcedtofightagroundwaragainstthemujaheddinresistance-agroundwartheycouldneverwin.
CynicsamongtheAfghansbelievedthattheAmericansrefusedtosupplyStingers,forthefirstsevenyearsoftheconflict,becausetheywantedRussiatowinjustenoughoftheAfghanWartoover-reachandover-committhemselves.IfandwhentheStingersfinallyarrived,theRussianswouldsufferadefeatthatcostthemsomuchinmenandresourcesthattheirentireSovietEmpirewouldcollapse.
Andwhetherthecynicswererightorwrong,thedeadlygamedidplayitselfoutinexactlythatway.TheStingermissilesdidturnthetideoftheconflict,whentheywerefinallyintroduced,afewmonthsafterKhaderledusintoAfghanistan.TheRussiansweresoweakenedbythewarofresistancefoughtbythoseveryAfghanvillagers,andmillionslikethem,thattheirmonstrous,Caligulanempirecrumbledaroundthem.Itworked,itplayedoutthatway,andwhatitcostwasamillionAfghanlives.Whatitcostwasone-thirdofthepopulationforcedfromtheirhomeland.Whatitcostwasoneofthelargestforcedmigrationsinhumanhistory-three-and-ahalfmillionrefugeesmovingthroughtheKhyberPasstoPeshawar,andamillionmoreexiledinIran,India,andtheMuslimrepublicsoftheSovietUnion.Whatitcostwasfiftythousandmen,women,andchildrenwithoneormorelimbsamputatedthroughland-mineexplosions.WhatitcostwastheAfghanheartandsoul.
AndI,awantedcriminal,workingforamafiacrimelord,impersonatedanAmericanandlookedthosepeopleintheeye,andliedtothemabouttheweaponsIcouldn’tgivethem.
HajjiMohammedlikedmyanswersomuchthatheinvitedourgrouptoattendtheweddingcelebrationsofhisyoungestson.Concernedthatarefusalmightoffendtheelderlyleader,andgenuinelytouchedbythegenerousinvitation,Khaderaccepted.Whenallthetributeswereexacted-HajjiMohammeddroveahardbargain,demandingandreceivingKhader’sownhorseasanadditional,personalgift-Khaderbhai,Nazeer,andIagreedtoaccompanytheleadertohiskhel.
Therestofourcolumnmadecampinapasturedvalleywithplentifulfreshwater.Thebreakinourforcedmarchallowedthementogroomandrestthehorses.Thepackanimalswereinconstantneedofattentionand,withthecargoconcealedinaprotectedcave,theunburdenedbeastswerefreetogambolandroam.Ourmenpreparedtofeastonfourroastingsheep,aromaticIndianrice,andfreshgreen-leafteaprovidedbyHajji’svillageastheircontributiontoourpartinthejihad.Withthepracticalbusinessoftributesnegotiatedandreceived,theseniormenofHajjiMohammed’svillage-likealltheAfghanclanleaderswe’dencounteredonthejourney-acknowledgedusasfightersinthesamecause,andofferedeveryhelptheycouldprovide.AsKhader,Nazeer,andIrodeawayfromthetemporarycamptowardthekhel,thesoundsofsingingandlaughterfollowedus,echochasingplayfulecho.Itwasthefirsttimewe’dheardthatlightnessofheartfromourmeninthetwenty-threedaysofthejourney.HajjiMohammed’svillagewasincelebrationwhenwearrived.Hisprofitable,bloodlessencounterwithourcolumnofarmedmenhadaddedtothegatheringthrillofanticipationforthewedding.
KhaderexplainedhowtheelaborateritualsofAfghanmatrimonyhadbeenunfoldingformonthsbeforewe’darrived.There’dbeenceremonialvisitsbetweenthefamilyofthegroom,andthefamilyofthebride.Ineverycase,smallgiftssuchashandkerchiefsorscentedsweetshadbeenexchanged,andprecisecourtesieswereobserved.Thebride’sdowryofextravagantlyembroideredcloths,importedsilks,perfumes,andjewelleryhadbeenpubliclydisplayedforalltoadmire,andwasthenheldintrustforherbythegroom’sfamily.Thegroomhadevenvisitedhisbride-to-beinsecret,andhe’dpresentedherwithpersonalgiftsashespoketoher.Accordingtocustom,itwasstrictlyforbiddenforhimtobeseenbythemeninherfamilyduringthatsecretvisit,butcustomalsorequiredhimtobehelpedbythegirl’smother.Thedutifulmother,Khaderassuredme,hadremainedwiththecouplewhiletheyspoketooneanotherforthefirsttime,andhadactedastheirchaperone.Withallthatachieved,thecouplewasreadyfortheculminationofthemarriageceremonyitself,tobeheldinthreedays’time.
Khadertookmethroughthefinestdetailsoftherituals,anditseemedtomethattherewasakindofurgencyinhisnormallygentle,teacher’smanner.AtfirstIguessed-rightly,Ithink-thathewasreacquaintinghimselfwiththecustomsofhispeople,afterhisfivelongdecadesinexile.Hewasrelivingthescenesandcelebrationsofhisyouth,andhewasprovingtohimselfthathewasstillAfghan,inallthathisheartknewandfelt.Butasthelessonscontinuedthroughthefollowingdays,andtheintensityofhisattentiontothemneverfailed,Ifinallyrealisedthatthelongexplanationsandhistorieswereformybenefitmorethanhis.HewasgivingmeacrashcourseinthecultureofthenationwhereImightbekilledandwheremybodymightbelaidtorest.Hewasmakingsenseofit-mylifewithhim,andmypossibledeath-intheonlywaythatheknew.Andunderstandingthat,withouteverspeakingofittohim,IlisteneddutifullyandlearnedeverythingIcould.
Kinsmen,friends,andotherinviteesstreamedintoHajji’svillageduringthosedays.ThefourmainhousesofHajjiMohammed’sfortress-likemen’skal’a,orcompound,weretall,square,mud-brickbuildings.Highwallssurroundedthekal’a,andonelargedwellingstoodineachofthefourcorners.Thewomen’skal’awasaseparatesetofbuildingsbehindevenhigherwalls.Inthemen’scompoundwesleptonthefloorandcookedallourownmeals.ItwasalreadycrowdedinthehousethatKhader,Nazeer,andIjoinedbut,asnewmenarrivedfromdistantvillages,weallsimplysquashedinfurther.
Sleepinginourclothes,wetop-and-tailedacrossthewholefloor,eachmansleepingwithhisheadbesidethefeetofthenext.There’satheorythatsnoringatnightinsleepisasubconsciousdefencereflex-awarningsoundthatfrightenedpotentialpredatorsawayfromthemouthofthecavewhenourlower-Palaeolithicancestorshuddledinvulnerablesleep.ThatgroupofAfghannomads,cameleers,sheepandgoatherders,farmers,andguerrillafighterslentcredibilitytotheidea,fortheysnoredsothunderouslyandwithsuchpersistentferocitythroughthelong,coldnightthattheywould’vefrightenedaprideofravenouslionsintoscatteringlikestartledmice.
Duringtheday,thesamemenpreparedcomplexfooddishesfortheFridaywedding.Thosedishesincludedflavouredyoghurts,piquantgoat’sorsheep’smilkcheeses,oven-bakedcakesmadewithcornflour,dates,nuts,andwildhoney,biscuitsbakedwithrichlychurnedgoat’smilkbutterand,ofcourse,avarietyofhalalmeatsandvegetablepulao.Whilethefoodswerebeingprepared,Iwatchedasmendraggedafoot-operatedgrindingwheelintoanopenspace,andthegroomdevotedatensehourtoputtingarazor’sedgetoalarge,ornatedagger.Thebride’sfatherwatchedthateffortwithacriticaleye.Aftersatisfyinghimselfthattheweaponwassuitablylethal,hegravelyaccepteditasagiftfromtheyoungerman.
“Thegroomhasjustsharpenedtheknifethatthebride’sfatherwilluseonhim,ifheevermistreatsthegirl,”Khaderexplainedtomeaswewatched.
“That’saprettygoodcustom,”Imused.
“Itisnotacustom,”Khadercorrectedme,withalaugh.“Itishisidea-thebride’sfather.Ihaveneverheardofitbeforethis.Butifitworks,itmightbecomeacustom.”
Eachdaythemenalsorehearsedritualgroup-danceswiththemusiciansandsingerswho’dbeenhiredtocomplementtheformal,publiccelebration.ThedancinggavemethechancetoseeanewandcompletelyunexpectedsideofNazeer.Hehurledhimselfintothewhirlingchoruslineofmenwithgraceandpassion.Moreover,myshort,bow-leggedfriend,whosebulkyarmsseemedtojutoutwardfromthetreetrunkofhisthickneckandchest,wasbyfarthebestdancerintheentireassembly,andquicklyearnedtheiradmiration.Thewholesecretandinvisibleinnerlifeoftheman,hisfullcreativeandspiritualendowment,wasexpressedinthedance.Andthatface-I’dsaid,once,thatI’dneverseenanotherhumanfaceinwhichthesmilewassoutterlydefeated-thatscowl-creasedfacewastransfiguredinthedanceuntilhishonest,selflessbeautywassoradiantthatitfilledmyeyeswithtears.
“Tellmeoncemore,”AbdelKhaderKhancommanded,witharoguishsmileinhiseye,aswewatchedthedancersfromavantagepointbeneathashadedwall.
Ilaughed.WhenIturnedtolookathim,helaughedaswell.
“Goon,”heurged.“Doittopleaseme.”
“Butyou’veheardthistwentytimesfrommealready.Howaboutyouanswermeaquestioninstead?”
“Youtellmeoncemore,andthenIwillansweryourquestion.”
“Okay.Heregoes.Theuniversebeganaboutfifteenbillionyearsago,inalmostabsolutesimplicity,andit’sbeengettingmoreandmorecomplexeversince.Thismovementfromthesimpletothecomplexisbuiltintothewebandweaveoftheuniverse,andit’scalledthetendencytowardcomplexity.We’retheproductsofthiscomplexification,andsoarethebirds,andthebees,andthetrees,andthestars,andeventhegalaxiesofstars.Andifweweretogetwipedoutinacosmicexplosion,likeanasteroidimpactorsomething,someotherexpressionofourlevelofcomplexitywouldemerge,becausethat’swhattheuniversedoes.
Andthisislikelytobegoingonallovertheuniverse.HowamIdoingsofar?”
Iwaited,buthedidn’treply,soIcontinuedwithmysummary.
“Okay,thefinalorultimatecomplexity-theplacewhereallthiscomplexityisgoing-iswhat,orwho,wemightcallGod.Andanythingthatpromotes,enhances,oracceleratesthismovementtowardGodisgood.Anythingthatinhibits,impedes,orpreventsitisevil.Andifwewanttoknowifsomethingisgoodorevil-somethinglikewarandkillingandsmugglinggunstomujaheddinguerrillas,forexample-thenweaskthequestions:Whatifeveryonedidthisthing?Wouldthathelpus,inthisbitoftheuniverse,togetthere,orwoulditholdusback?Andthenwehaveaprettygoodideawhetherit’sgoodorevil.What’smoreimportant,weknowwhyit’sgoodorevil.There,howwasthat?”
“Verygood,”hesaidwithoutlookingatme.WhileI’drunthroughthesummaryofhiscosmologicalmodel,he’dclosedhiseyesandnoddedhishead,pursinghislipsinahalfsmile.WhenIconcludedit,heturnedtolookatme,andthesmilewidenedasthepleasureandthemischiefsparkedinhiseyes.“Youknow,ifyouwantedtodoit,youcouldexpressthisideaeverybitaswellandasaccuratelyasIdo.AndI’vebeenworkingonitandthinkingaboutitforalmostallofmylife.Icannottellyouhowhappyitmakesmefeeltohearyoutellittomeinyourownwords.”
“Ithinkthewordsareyours,Khaderji.You’vecoachedmeoftenenough.ButIdohaveacoupleofproblems.DoIgetmyquestionnow?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.We’vegotthingslikerocksintheworldthataren’talive,andlivingthingsliketreesandfishandpeople.Yourcosmologydoesn’ttellmewherelifeandconsciousnesscomefrom.
Ifrocksaremadeoutofthesamestuffthatpeoplearemadeoutof,howcomerocksaren’talive,butpeopleare?Imean,wheredoeslifecomefrom?”
“Iknowyouwellenoughtobesurethatyouwantmetogiveyouashort,directanswertothisquestion.”
“IthinkI’dlikeashort,directanswerto_everyquestion,”Ireplied,laughing.
Heraisedaneyebrowatthefoolishnessofmyflippantresponseandthenshookhisheadslowly.
“DoyouknowtheEnglishphilosopherBertrandRussell?Haveyoureadanyofhisbooks?”
“Yeah.Ireadsomeofhisstuff-atuniversity,andinprison.”
“HewasafavouriteofmydearMr.MackenzieEsquire,”Khadersmiled.“IdonotoftenagreewithBertrandRussell’sconclusions,butIdolikethewayhearrivesatthem.Anyway,heoncesaid,Anythingthatcanbeputinanutshellshouldremainthere.AndIdoagreewithhimaboutthat.Butnow,theanswertoyourquestionisthis:lifeisafeatureofallthings.Wecouldcallitacharacteristic,whichisoneofmyfavouriteEnglishwords.IfyoudonotspeakEnglishasyourfirstlanguage,theword`characteristic`hasanamazingsound-likerappingonadrum,orbreakingkindlingwoodforafire.Tocontinue,everyatomintheuniversehasthecharacteristicoflife.Themorecomplexwaythatatomsgetputtogether,themorecomplexistheexpressionofthecharacteristicoflife.Arockisaverysimplearrangementofatoms,sothelifeinarockissosimplethatwecannotseeit.Acatisaverycomplexarrangementofatoms,sothelifeinacatisveryobvious.Butlifeisthere,ineverything,eveninarock,andevenwhenwecannotseeit.”
“Wheredidyougetthisidea?IsitintheKoran?”
“Actually,itisaconceptthatappearsinonewayoranotherinmostofthegreatreligions.Ihavechangeditslightlytosuitwhatwehavelearnedabouttheworldinthelastfewhundredyears.ButtheHolyKorangivesmemyinspirationforthiskindofstudy,becausetheKorancommandsmetostudyeverything,andlearneverything,inordertoserveAllah.”
“Butwheredoesthis_life_characteristiccomefrom?”Iinsisted,surethatIhadhimtrappedinareductionistdead-endatlast.
“Life,andalltheothercharacteristicsofallthethingsintheuniverse,suchasconsciousness,andfreewill,andthetendencytowardcomplexity,andevenlove,wasgiventotheuniversebylight,atthebeginningoftimeasweknowit.”
“AttheBigBang?Isthatwhatyou’retalkingabout?”
“Yes.TheBigBangexpansionhappenedfromapointcalledasingularity-anotherofmyfavouritefive-syllableEnglishwords–thatisalmostinfinitelydense,andalmostinfinitelyhot,andyetitoccupiesnospaceandnotime,asweknowthosethings.
Thepointisaboilingcauldronoflightenergy.Somethingcausedittoexpand-wedon’tknowyetwhatcausedit-andfromlight,alltheparticlesandalltheatomscametoexist,alongwithspaceandtimeandalltheforcesthatweknow.So,lightgaveeverylittleparticleatthebeginningoftheuniverseasetofcharacteristics,andasthoseparticlescombineinmorecomplexways,thecharacteristicsshowthemselvesinmoreandmorecomplexways.”
Hepaused,watchingmyfaceasIstruggledwiththeconceptsandquestionsandemotionsthatloopedinmymind.Hegotawayfrommeagain,Ithought,suddenlyfuriouswithhimforhavingananswertomyquestion,andyetstruckwithadmiringrespectforthesamereason.Therewasalwayssomethingeerilyincongruousinthewiselectures-sometimestheywerelikesermons-ofthemafiadonAbdelKhaderKhan.Sittingthereagainstastonewallinanall-but-StoneAgevillageinAfghanistan,withacargoofsmuggledgunsandantibioticsnearby,thedissonancecreatedbyhiscalm,profounddiscourseaboutgoodandevil,andlightandlifeandconsciousness,wasenoughtofillmewithexasperatedirritation.“WhatIhavejusttoldyouistherelationshipbetweenconsciousnessandmatter,”Khaderproclaimed,pausingagainuntilhehadmyeye.“Thisisakindoftest,andnowyouknowit.Thisisatestthatyoushouldapplytoeverymanwhotellsyouthatheknowsthemeaningoflife.Everyguruyoumeetandeveryteacher,everyprophetandeveryphilosopher,shouldanswerthesetwoquestionsforyou:Whatisanobjective,universallyacceptabledefinitionofgoodandevil?And,Whatistherelationshipbetweenconsciousnessandmatter?Ifhecannotanswerthesetwoquestions,asIhavedone,youknowthathehasnotpassedthetest.”
“Howdoyouknowallthisphysics?”Idemanded.“AllthisaboutparticlesandsingularitiesandBigBangs?”
Hestaredatme,readingthefullmeasureoftheunconsciousinsult:HowisitthatanAfghangangsterlikeyouknowssomuchaboutscienceandhigherknowledge?Ilookedbackathim,rememberingadayattheslumwithJohnnyCigarwhenI’dmadethecruelmistakeofassuminghimtobeignorantsimplybecausehewaspoor.
“Thereisasaying-Whenthestudentisready,theteacherappears-doyouknowit?”heasked,laughing.Itseemedthathewaslaughingatme,ratherthanwithme
“Yes,”Iwhistledpatiently,throughclenchedteeth.
“Well,justatthepointinmystudiesofphilosophyandreligionwhenIcametoneedthespecialknowledgeofascientist,oneappearedforme.Iknewthatthereweremanyanswersformeinthescienceoflifeandstarsandchemistry.But,unfortunately,thesewerenotthethingsthatmydearMackenzieEsquiretaughttome,exceptinthemostelementaryfashion.ThenImetaphysicist,amanwhowasworkingattheBhabhaAtomicResearchCentreinBombay.Hewasaverygoodman,buthehadaweaknessforgamblingatthattime.Hefoundhimselfinbigtrouble.Helostalotofmoneythatwasnothistolose.HewasgamblingatoneoftheclubsownedbyamanIknewwell-amanwhoworkedforme,ifIneededit.Andtherewasmoretrouble.Thescientistwasinvolvedwithawoman-hefellinlovewithher,andhedidstupidthingsforthesakeofthislove,andsothereweremanydangers.Whenhecametome,Isolvedtheproblemsofthisscientist,andkeptallthemattersstrictlybetweenus.No-oneelseeverknewthedetailsofhisindiscretions,orofmyinvolvementinsolvingthem.And,inexchangeforthis,themanhasbeenteachingmeeversincethatday.HisnameisWolfgangPersis,andIhavearrangeditthatyouwillmeethim,ifyouwish,soonafterwereturn.”
“Howlonghashebeenteachingyou?”
“Wehavebeenstudyingtogetheronceeveryweekforthepastsevenyears.”
“Jesus!”Igasped,thinking,withalittlecurlofmeandelight,thatwiseandmightyKhaderhackedouthispoundoffleshwhenitsuitedhim.InanotherheartbeatIwasashamedofthethought:IlovedKhaderKhanenoughtofollowhimintoawar.Wasn’titpossiblethatthescientistlovedhimjustaswell?Andinthinkingthat,IknewIwasjealousoftheman,thescientistIdidn’tknowandprobablywouldnevermeet.Jealousy,liketheflawedlovethatbearsit,hasnorespectfortimeorspaceorwiselyreasonedargument.Jealousycanraisethedeadwithasingle,spitefultaunt,orhateaperfectstrangerfornothingmorethanthesoundofhisname.
“Youareaskingaboutlife,”Khadersaidgently,changingtack,“becauseyouarethinkingaboutdeath.Andyouarethinkingaboutthetakingofalife,ifithappensthatyoumustshootaman.AmIrightinthis?”
“Yeah,”Imuttered.Hewasright,butthekillingthatpreoccupiedmewasn’tinAfghanistan.ThelifeIwantedtotakewasperchedonathrone,inasecretroominagrotesquebrothelcalledThePalace,inBombay.MadameZhou.
“Remember,”Khadersaidinsistently,restinghishandonmyforearmtoemphasisehiswords.“Sometimesitisnecessarytodothewrongthingfortherightreasons.Theimportantthingistobesurethatourreasonsareright,andthatweadmitthewrong-thatwedonotlietoourselves,andconvinceourselvesthatwhatwedoisright.”
Andlater,astheweddingwhirledandclamouredtothelastwailofitsrejoicing,andaswerejoinedourmenandscrambled,clattered,andstrainedourwayacrossnewmountains,ItriedtounwindthewreathofthornsthatKhaderhadcoiledaroundmyheartwithhiswords.Thewrongthingfortherightreasons…
Oncebeforehe’dtormentedmewiththatphrase.Ichewedatit,inmymind,asabearwillchewataleatherstrapthatbindsitbytheleg.Inmylife,thewrongthingswerealmostalwaysdoneforthewrongreasons.EventherightthingsthatIdidweretoooftengoadedbythewrongreasons.
Agloomymoodenwrappedme.Itwasasullen,doubtingtemperthatIcouldn’tshakeoff,andaswerodeintothewinterIthoughtoftenofAnandRao,myneighbourfromtheslum.IrememberedAnand’sfacesmilingatmethroughthemetalgrilleofthevisitor’sroomatArthurRoadPrison:thatgentle,handsomeface,soserene,andsoftenedwiththepeacethathadsuffusedhisheart.He’ddonethewrongthingfortherightreasons,ashesawit.He’dcalmlyacceptedthepunishmentthathe’dearned,ashesaidtome,asifitwasaprivilegeoraright.Andatlast,aftertoomanythinkingdaysandnights,IcursedAnand.Icursedhimtodrivehimfrommymindbecauseavoicekepttellingme-myownvoice,ormaybeitwasmyfather’s-thatIwouldneverknowthatpeace.
IwouldnevercometothatEdeninthesoul,whereacceptanceofpunishmentandacknowledgementofwrongandrightrollawaythetroublesthatlodgelikestonesinthebarrenfieldofanexiledheart.
Movingnorthagainatnight,weclimbedandcrossedthenarrowKussaPassintheHadaMountains.Thejourneyofthirtycrowkilometreswasclosertoonehundredandfiftyclimbing-anddescending-kilometresforus.Then,exposedtothewidesky,wetravelledoverflatterlandforalmostfiftykilometrestocrosstheArghastanRiveranditstributariesthreetimesbeforewereachedthefoothillsoftheShahbadPass.Andthere,withmymindstillchokedonitsrightsandwrongs,wewerefiredonforthefirsttime.
Khader’scommandthatwecommencetheclimboftheShahbadPasswithoutarestsavedmanylives,includingmyown,thatcoldevening.Wewereexhaustedaftertheheadlong,trottingmarchacrosstheopenplain.Everymanamongushopedforrestatthefoothillsofthepass,butKhaderurgeduson,ridingthelengthofthecolumnandshoutingforustokeepon,keepon,andkeepupthepace.Thusweweremovingfastwhenthefirstshotswerefired.Iheardthesound:ahollowmetaltapping,asifsomeonewasrappingonthesideofanemptygasolinecanwithapieceofcopperpipe.Stupidly,Ididn’tassociateitwithgunfireatfirst,andIkepttrudgingforward,leadingmyhorsebythereins.Thenthebulletsfoundtheirrange,andtheysmashedintotheground,ourcolumn,andtherockwallsaroundus.Themenscrambledforcover.Ifelltotheground,grindingmyfaceintothedustofthestonypathandtellingmyselfthatitwasn’treallyhappening,thatIhadn’tseenthemaninfrontofmerippedopenacrosshisbackashestumbledforward.Ourmenbeganfiringfromallaroundme.Andrapid-breathingthedustintomymouth,stiffwithfear,Iwasinthewar.ImightVestayedthere,withmyfaceinthedirtandmyheartthumpingseismicterrorintotheearth,ifitwasn’tformyhorse.I’dlostthereins,andthehorsewasrearinginfright.
Fearingthatitmighttrampleme,Iscrambledtomyfeetandscrabbledattheflailingreinstoregaincontrolofher.Thehorsethathadbeensoimpressivelyobedienttothatpointwassuddenlytheworstoftheentirecolumn.Sherearedandthenbucked.Shestampedherhoovesandtriedtodragmebackward.Shethrashedanddroveusintightcircles,tryingtofindananglewhereshecouldkickbackwardatme.Sheevenbitme,snappingatmyforearmandcausingintensepainthroughthreelayersofclothes.
Iglancedalongtheline,leftandright.Thosenearesttothepassweremakingarunforit,leadingtheiranimalstowardtherockyshelvesforshelter.Thoseimmediatelyinfrontofmeandbehindmehadmanagedtobringtheirhorsesdown,andtheycrouchedbesideorbehindthem.Onlymyhorsewasstillrearingandwidelyvisible.Withoutahorseman’sskill,it’sadamnhardthingtoconvinceahorsetoliedowninabattlezone.Otherhorseswerescreaminginfear,andeachwhinnyofterrorputmorepanicintomine.Iwantedtosaveher,tobringherdownandmakelessofatargetofher,butIwasafraidformyselfaswell.Theenemyfireslammedintotherocksaboveandbesideme,andwitheveryshatteringsoundIflinchedlikeadeernudgingathornhedge.
It’sabizarrefeeling,waitingforabullettostrike:thenearestexperienceIcanrecallthat’sanythinglikeitisfallingthroughspace,andwaitingforthesafetychutetoopen.
There’saspecialtaste;auniquetaste.There’sadifferentsmellonyourskin.Andthere’sahardnessintheeyes,asifthey’resuddenlymadeofcoldmetal.JustwhenIdecidedtogiveupandlettheanimalfendforherself,shebuckledeasilyandfollowedmydraggingarmsdownandontoherside.Ihurledmyselfdownwithher,usingherswollenmiddleasashield.Inanattempttocalmher,Ireachedovertopatathershoulder.Myhandsquelchedinabloodywound.Raisingmyhead,Isawthatthehorsehadbeenstrucktwice,oncehighontheshoulderandonceinthebelly.Thewoundswerestreamingbloodwitheveryheavingbreath,andthehorsewascrying-Ihavenootherwordforit.
Thesoundwasabreathy,stuttering,whiningsob.Iputmyheadagainsthers,andwrappedmyarmaroundherneck.
Themeninmygroupconcentratedtheirfireonaridgeaboutonehundredandfiftymetresaway.Withmybodypressedhardagainsttheground,Ipeekedoverthemaneofmyhorsetoseedustyplumesriseandspilloverthedistantridgeasbulletafterbulletrammedintotheearth.
Andthenitwasover.IheardKhadershoutinginthreelanguagesforthementostopshooting.Wewaitedforlongminutes,inastillnessthatgroanedandmoanedandsobbed.Iheardfootstepscrunchingthestonesnearby,andlookeduptoseeKhaledAnsarirunningtowardmeatacrouch.
“Areyouokay,Lin?”
“Yeah,”Ianswered,wonderingthenforthefirsttimeifI,too,hadbeenshot.Iranmyhandsovermylegsandarms.“Yeah,I’mallhere.IthinkI’mstillinonepiece.Buttheyshotmyhorse.
She’s-”
“I’mdoingacount!”heinterruptedme,holdingupthepalmsofbothhandstocalmmeandstopmespeaking.“Khadersentmetoseeifyou’reokayanddoaheadcount.I’llbebacksoon.Stayhereanddon’tmove.”
“Butshe’s-”
“She’sfinished!”hehissedandthensoftenedhistone.“Thehorseisgone,Lin.She’sdonefor.She’snottheonlyone.
Habib’sgonnafinishthemoff.Juststayhereandkeepyourheaddown.I’llbeback.”
Heranoffatacrouch,stoppinghereandtherealongthecolumnbehindme.Myhorsewasbreathinghard,whimperingwitheverythirdorfourthchuggingbreath.Theflowofbloodwasslowbutsteady.Thewoundinherbellywasoozingadarkfluidthatwasdarkerthanblood.Itriedtosootheher,strokingherneck,andthenIrealisedthatIhadn’tgivenheraname.Itseemedgrievouslycruel,somehow,forhertodiewithoutaname.Isearchedmymind,andwhenIpulledthenetofthoughtupfromtheblue-blackdeeptherewasaname,glitteringandtrue.
“I’mgoingtocallyouClaire,”Iwhisperedintothemare’sear.
“Shewasabeautifulgirl.Shealwaysmademelookgood,whereverwewent.WhenIwaswithherIalwayslookedlikeIknewwhatIwasdoing.AndIdidn’tstarttoloveher,really,untilshewalkedawayfrommeforthelasttime.ShesaidIwasinterestedineverythingandcommittedtonothing.Shesaidthattomeonce
Andshewasright.Shewasright.”
Iwasbabbling,raving,inshock.Iknowthesymptomsnow.I’veseenothermenunderfireforthefirsttime.Ararefewknowexactlywhattodo:theirweaponsarereturningfirebeforetheirbodieshavefinishedaninstinctivecrouchandroll.Otherslaugh,andcan’tstoplaughing.Somecry,andcallfortheirmama,ortheirwife,ortheirGod.Somegetsoquiet,shrinkingdowninsidethemselves,thateventheirfriendsgetspookedbyit.Andsometalk,justlikeItalkedtomydyinghorse.
Habibscrambleduptomeinaslithering,zigzagrun,andsawmetalkingintothemare’sear.Hecheckedheroverthoroughly,runninghishandsoverthewoundsandprobingunderthethicklyveinedhidetofeelforthebullets.Hepulledhisknifeoutofitsscabbard.Itwasalongknife,withadog’stoothpoint.Hepositioneditoverthehorse’sthroatandthenpaused.Hismadeyesmetmine.Therewasasunburstofgoldaroundthepupilsofhiseyesthatseemedtopulseandwhirl.Theywerebigeyes,butthemadnessinthemwasbigger,strainingandbulgingatthemasifitwantedtoburstoutwardfromhisverybrain.Andyethewassaneenoughtosensemyhelplessgrief,andtooffermetheknife.
ItmaybethatIshould’vetakentheknifeandkilledthehorse,myhorse,myself.Maybethat’swhatagoodman,acommittedman,would’vedone.Icouldn’t.Ilookedattheknifeandthetremblingthroatofthehorse,andIcouldn’tdoit.Ishookmyhead.Habibpushedtheknifeintothehorse’sneckandgaveitasubtle,almosteleganttwistofhiswrist.Themareshuddered,butallowedherselftobecalmed.Whentheknifeleftherthroat,thebloodgushedinheart-thrustedburstsontoherchestandthesoddenground.Slowly,thestrainingjawrelaxed,andtheeyesglazedover,andthenthegreatheartwasstill.
Ilookedfromthegentle,dead,unfearingeyesofthehorseintothesicknessthatcareeredinHabib’seyes,andthemomentthatwesharedwassochargedwithemotion,sosurreallyalientotheworldsIknew,thatmyhandslidinvoluntarilyalongmybodytotheguninmyholster.Habibgrinnedatme,atoothybaboongrinthatwasimpossibletoread,andscrambledawayalongthelinetothenextwoundedhorse.
“Areyouokay?”
“Areyouokay?”
“Areyouokay?”
“What?”
“Isaid,areyouokay?”Khaledasked,shakingahandfulofclothingatmychestuntilIlookedhimintheeye.
“Yeah.Sure.”Ifocusedonhisface,wonderinghowlongI’dbeenstaringatmydeadhorse,withmyhandrestingonherpuncturedthroat.Ilookedaroundmeatthesky.Thenightwasclose,onlyminutesaway.“Howbad…howbadwasit?”
“Welostoneman.Madjid.Alocalguy.”
“Isawit.Hewasrightinfrontofme.Thebulletscuthimopenlikeacanopener.Fuck,man,itwassoquick.Hewasalive,andthenhisbackopenedup,andhedroppedoverlikeacutpuppet.
I’msurehewasdeadbeforehiskneeshittheground.Itwasthatfast!”
“Areyousureyou’reokay?”KhaledaskedwhenIpausedforbreath.
“OfcourseI’mfuckunokay!”Isnapped,apurelyAustralianaccentpunchingintotheexpletive.ThegleaminhiseyesgoadedmeforanotherheartbeatofvexationandIalmostshoutedathim,butthenIsawthewarmthinhisexpression,andtheconcern.Ilaughedinstead.Relieved,helaughedwithme.“OfcourseI’mokay.AndI’dbealotbetterifyou’dstopaskingme.I’mjustabit…talkative…that’sall.Gimmesomeslack.Jesus!Amanjustgotkilledononesideofme,andmyhorsegotkilledontheotherside.Idon’tknowwhetherI’mluckyorjinxed.”
“You’relucky,”Khaledansweredquickly.Histonewasmoreseriousthanhislaughingeyes.“It’samess,butitcould’vebeenworse.”
“Worse?”
“Theydidn’tuseanythingheavy-nomortars,noheavymachineguns.Theywould’veusedthemiftheyhadthem,anditwould’vebeenalotworse.Thatmeansitwasasmallpatrol,probablyAfghans,notRussians,justtestingusoutortryingtheirluck.
Asitis,we’vegotthreewounded,andwelostfourhorses.”
“Wherearethewoundedguys?”
“Upahead,inthepass.Youwannatakealookatthemwithme?”
“Sure.Sure.Gimmeahandwithmygear.”
Wewrenchedthesaddleandbridlefrommydeadhorse,andtrottedupthelineofmenandhorsestothemouthofthenarrowpass.
Thewoundedmenwerelyingwithinthecoverofashoulderofrock.Khaderstoodnearby,frowningwatchfullyattheplainbehindme.AhmedZadehwasgentlybuthurriedlyremovingtheclothingfromoneofthewoundedmen.Iglancedatthedarkeningsky.
Onemanhadabrokenarm.Hishorsehadfallenonhimwhenitwasshot.Thebreakwasabadone,acompoundfractureoftheforearm,nearthewrist.Oneboneprotrudedatasickeninglyunnaturalangle,butitremainedwithintheenvelopeofflesh,andnowherepiercedtheskin.Ithadtobeset.WhenAhmedZadehremovedthesecondman’sshirt,wesawthathe’dbeenshottwice.Bothbulletswerestillinhisbody,andtheyweretoodeeptoreachwithoutmajorsurgery.One,intheupperchest,hadshatteredthecollarbone,andtheotherhadlodgedinhisstomach,tearingawideandundoubtedlyfatalwoundfromhiptohip.Thethirdman,afarmernamedSiddiqi,hadabadhead-wound.Hishorsehadthrownhimagainsttherocks,andhe’dstruckaboulderwiththetopofhishead,nearthecrown.
Itwasbleeding,andtherewasaclearfractureofthecranium.
Myfingersslidalongtheridgeofbrokenbone,greasy-wetwithhisblood.Thebrokenscalphadsplitintothreechunks.OneofthemwassoloosethatIknewitwouldcomeawayinmyhandifItuggedatit.Hismattedhairwasallthatheldhisskulltogether.Therewasalsoathickswellingatthebaseoftheskull,wherehisheadmethisneck.Hewasunconscious,andIdoubtedthathewouldeveropenhiseyesagain.
Iglancedattheskyoncemore.Therewassolittledaylightleft,solittletime.Ihadtomakeadecision,achoice,andhelponemantolive,maybe,whileIletothermendie.Iwasn’tadoctor,andIhadnoexperienceunderfire.Theworkhadfallentome,itseemed,becauseIknewalittlemorethanthenextman,andIwaswillingtodoit.Itwascold.Iwascold.Iwaskneelinginastickysmearofblood,andIcouldfeelitsoakingthroughthekneesofmypants.WhenIlookedupatKhaderhenodded,asifhewasreadingmythoughts.Feelingsickwithguiltandfear,IpulledablanketoverSiddiqi,tokeephimwarm,andthenIabandonedhimtoworkonthemanwiththebrokenarm.
Khaledpulledopenthecomprehensivefirst-aidkitbesideme.Ithrewaplasticbottleofantibioticpowder,antisepticwash,bandages,andscissorsonthegroundatAhmedZadeh’sfeet,besidethemanwho’dbeenshot.Isnappedoutbriefinstructionsforcleaninganddressingthewounds,andasAhmedwenttowork,coveringthebulletwounds,Iturnedmyattentiontothebrokenarm.Themanspoketomeurgently.Iknewhisfacewell.Hehadaspecialtalentforherdingtheunrulygoats,andI’doftenseenthetemperamentalcreaturesfollowinghim,unbidden,ashewanderedaroundourcamp.
“Whatdidhesay?Ididn’tgetit.”
“Heaskedyouifit’sgoingtohurt,”Khaledmuttered,tryingtokeephisvoiceandhisexpressionreassuringlyneutral.
“Ihadthishappentomeonce,”Isaidinreply.“Somethingjustlikethis.Iknowexactlyhowmuchithurts.Ithurtssomuch,brother,thatIthinkyoushouldtakehisgunaway.”
“Right,”Khaledreplied.“Fuck.”
Hesmiledbroadly,andbrushedatthegroundbesidethewoundedman,graduallyeasingtheKalashnikovoutoftheman’shandandoutofreach.Then,asdarknessclosedoverus,andfiveoftheman’sfriendsheldhimdown,Iwrenchedandtwistedhisshatteredarmuntilitresembledthestraight,healthylimbthatitoncehadbeenandneverwouldbeagain.
“Ee-Allah!Ee-Allah!”heshouted,overandoverthroughclenchedteeth.
Whenthebreakwaswrappedandsetwithhardplasticsplints,andwe’dpatchedoverthewoundsonthemanwho’dbeenshot,IhastilywrappedadressingaroundunconsciousSiddiqi’shead.Atoncewesetoffintothenarrowpass.Thecargowasdistributedamongalltheremaininghorses.Themanwiththebulletwoundsrodeahorse,supportedonbothsidesbyhisfriends.Siddiqiwasstrappedacrossoneofthepackhorses,aswasthebodyofMadjid,theAfghanwho’dbeenkilledintheattack.Therestofuswalked.
Theclimbwassteepbutshort.Puffinghardinthethinairandshiveringinacoldthatpenetratedtomybones,Ipushedanddraggedthereluctanthorseswiththerestofthemen.TheAfghanfightersneveroncecomplainedorgrumbled.WhenthepitchofoneclimbwassteeperthananythingI’dknownonthewholetrip,Ipausedatlast,pantingheavilytoregainmystrength.TwomenturnedtoseethatI’dhalted,andtheysliddownthepathtome,givingupthepreciousmetresthey’djustgained.Withhugesmilesandencouragingclapsontheshoulder,theyhelpedmetodragahorseuptheslopeandthenboundedofftohelpthoseahead
“TheseAfghansmaynotbethebestmenintheworldtolivewith,”AhmedZadehpuffedashestruggledupthescramblingtrailbehindme.“Buttheyarecertainlythebestmenintheworldto_diewith!”
Afterfivehoursoftheclimbwereachedourdestination,acampintheShar-i-SafaMountains.Thecampwasshelteredfromtheairbyaprodigiousledgeofrock.Thegroundbeneathhadbeenexcavatedtoformavastcaveleadingtoanetworkofothercaves.Severalsmaller,camouflagedbunkerssurroundedthecaveinaringthatreachedtothefringeoftheflat,ruggedmountainplateau.
Khadercalledustoahaltinthelightoftherisingfullmoon.
HisscoutHabibhadalertedthecamptoourarrival,andthemujaheddinwerewaitingforus-andthesupplieswebrought-withgreatexcitement.Amessagewassentbacktome,inthecentreofthecolumn,thatKhaderwantedme.Ijoggedforwardtojoinhim.
“Wewillrideintothecampalongthispath.Khaled,Ahmed,Nazeer,Mahmoud,andsomeothers.Wedonotknowexactlywhoisinthecamp.TheattackonusatShahbadPasstellsmethatAsmatullahAchakzaihaschangedsidesagain,andjoinedtheRussians.ThePasshasbeenhisforthreeyears,andweshouldhavebeensafethere.Habibtellsmethatthecampisfriendly,andthattheseareourownmen,waitingforus.Buttheyarestillbehindcover,andtheywillnotcomeouttogreetus.IthinkitwillbebetterforusifourAmericanisridingwithus,nearthefront,behindme.Icannottellyoutodothis.Icanonlyaskit.Willyouridewithus?”
“Yes,”Ireplied,hopingthatthewordsoundedfirmerinhisearsthanitdidinmyown.
“Good.Nazeerandtheothershavepreparedthehorses.Wewillleaveatonce.”
Nazeerledseveralhorsesforward,andweclimbedwearilyintothesaddles.Khadermust’vebeenfarmoretiredthanIwas,andhisbodymustVewrestledwithmanymorepainsandcomplaints,buthewasstraight-backedinthesaddleandheheldthegreen-andwhitestandardathishipwitharigidarm.Imitatinghim,Isatupstraightandkickedbacksmartlytostartthehorseforward.
Oursmallcolumnmovedoffslowlyintoasilveredmoonlightsostrongthatitcastloomingshadowsonthegreyrockwalls.
Theapproachtothecampfromthatsouthernclimbwasalonganarrowstonepaththatsweptinagraceful,evencurvefromrighttoleft.Besidethepathonourleftwasasteepdropofsomethirtymetrestoarubbleofbrokenboulders.Onourrightwasthesmoothrockfaceofasheerwall.Whenwewereperhapshalfwayalongthepath,watchedattentivelybyourownmenandthemujaheddininthecamp,Idevelopedanirritatingcrampinmyrighthip.Thecrampquicklybecameapiercingknotofpain;andthemorethatItriedtoignoreit,themoreagonisingitfelt.
Attemptingtorelievethestressonmyhip,Itookmyrightfootoutofthestirrupandtriedtostretchmyleg.Withalltheweightonmyleftleg,Istoodalittleinthesaddle.Withoutwarning,myleftfootgavewaybeneathmeasmybootslippedfromthestirrup,andIfeltmyselffallingsidewaysoutofthesaddletowardthedeep,harddroptothestones.Self-preservationinstinctssetmylimbsflailing,andIclutchedatthehorse’sneckwithmyarmsandmyfreerightlegasIswungdownandaround.Inthetimeittakestoclenchyourteeth,I’dfallenfromthesaddleandcoiledmyselfupside-downaroundtheneckofthehorse.Icalledonittostop,butitignoredme,ploddingonwardalongthenarrowtrack.Icouldn’tletgo.Thepathwassonarrow,andthedropsosteep,thatIwassureIwouldfallifIreleasedmygrip.Andthehorsewouldn’tstop.SoIhungon,withmyarmsandmylegswrappedarounditsneck,upside-down,whileitsheadgentlybobbedanddippednexttomine.
Iheardmyownmenlaughingfirst.Itwasthathelpless,stuttering,chokinglaughterthatmakesmensufferfordayswiththeacheofitintheirribs.Itwasthekindoflaughterthatyou’resurewillkillyouifyoucan’tgetthatnextgaspingbreath.AndthenIheardthemujaheddinfighterslaughingfromthecamp.AndIarchedmyheadbackwardtoseeKhader,facingaroundinhissaddleandlaughingashardastherest.Andthen_Istartedtolaugh,andwhenthelaughterweakenedmyarms,asIclutchedatthehorse,Ilaughedagain.AndasIchokedoutananguished,croakyWhoa!Stop!Bandkaro!themenlaughedharderthanever.
AndsoIenteredthecampofthemujaheddinfighters.Mencrouchedaroundmeatonce,helpingmefromthehorse’sneckandsteadyingmeonmyfeet.Myowncolumnofmenfollowedusacrossthenarrowpath,andreachedouttopatmeonthebackandslapatmyshoulders.Seeingthatfamiliarity,themujaheddinjoinedintheslappingchorus,anditwasfullyfifteenminutesbeforethelastmanleftmysideandIcouldsitdowntorestmyjellylegs.
“Gettingyoutoridewithhimwasn’tKhader’sbest-everidea,”
KhaledAnsarisaid,slidingdownaboulderfacetositbesidemewithhisbacktothestone.“Butfuck,man,youarerealpopularafterthattrick.That’seasilythefunniestthingthoseguyshaveeverseenintheirlives.”
“ForChrist’ssake!”Isighed,withalastreflexivegiggleoflaughter.“Irodeoverahundredmountainsandcrossedtenrivers,mostofitinthedark,forawholemonth,andeverythingwasokay.Irollintothecamp,andI’mhangin’onmyhorse’snecklikeafuckin’monkey.”
“Don’tgetmestartedagain!”Khaledspluttered,laughingandclutchingathisside.
Ilaughedwithhim,andalthoughIwasexhaustedandresignedtotheridicule,Ididn’twanttolaughanymore,soIglancedaroundtomyrighttoavoidhiseye.Acanvasshamianaincamouflagecoloursprovidedshelterforourwoundedmen.Intheshadowsbesideit,menwerepullingcargofromthehorsesandferryingitintothecavern.IsawHabibdraggingsomethinglongandheavyawayfrombehindtheworkingline,anddeeperintothedarknessbeyond.
“What’s…”Ibegan,stillchuckling.“What’sHabibdoingoverthere?”
Khaledwasinstantlyalert,andjumpedtohisfeet.Hisurgencyquickenedme,andIleaptupafterhim.Werantothelineofrocksthatformedoneedgeoftheflattenedmountainplateau,andasweroundedthemwesawhimkneeling,legsastridethebodyofaman.ItwasSiddiqi.Whilealltheattentionwasonthefascinatingbundlesofthecargo,Habibhaddraggedtheunconsciousmanfrombeneaththecanvasawning.Justaswereachedhim,Habibdrovehislongknifeintotheman’sneckandgaveitthatdelicatetwist.Siddiqi’slegstwitchedatiny,tremblingshakeandthenwerestill.Habibpulledtheknifeawayandturnedtoseeusstaringbackathim.Thehorrorandrageinourfacesseemedonlytofueltheburningmadnessinhiseyes.Hegrinnedatus.
“Khader!”Khaledshouted,hisfaceaspaleasthemoon-washedstonearoundus.“Khaderbhai!Iddarao!”ComeherelIheardanansweringshoutfrombehindussomewhere,butIdidn’tmove.MyeyeswereonHabib.Heturnedtofaceme,swinginghislegoverthemurderedmanandcrouchingonhishaunchesasifhewasabouttospringatme.Themanicgrinlockedonhisfeatures,buthiseyesgrewdarker-moreafraid,perhaps,ormorecunning.
Heturnedhisheadquicklyandtilteditataneccentricangle,asiflisteningwithferalintensitytoafaintsoundinthedistantnight.Iheardnothingbutthenoisesofthecampbehindmeandthesoftwailofthewindasitcoursedthroughthecanyonsandravinesandsecretpathways.Inthatinstant,theland,themountains,theverycountryofAfghanistanseemedtomesodesolate,sobleachedoflovelinessandtendernessthatitwaslikethelandscapeofHabib’sinsanity.IfeltthatIwastrappedinsidethestonymazeofhishallucinatedbrain.
Whilehelistened,tenseinhisanimalcrouch,withhisfaceturnedawayfromme,Islippedthestud-clipoffmyholster.Ieasedthegunout,andintomyhands.Breathinghard,IfollowedKhader’sinstructionsautomatically,notrealisinguntilitwasdonethatI’dflickedoffthesafety,chamberedaroundbypullingbacktheslidingreturn,andcockedthehammer.ThesoundsbroughtHabibroundtofaceme.Helookedattheguninmyhand.Itwasaimedathischest.Helookedbacktomyeyes,movinghisgazeslowly,almostlanguorously.Thelongknifewasstillinhishand.Idon’tknowwhatexpressionlitmyfaceinthemoonlight.Itcan’thavebeengood.Mymindwasmadeup:ifhemovedamillimetretowardme,Iwouldpullthetriggerasmanytimesasittooktofinishhim.
Hisgrinwidenedintoalaugh-atleast,itlookedlikealaugh.
Hismouthmoved,andhisheadshook,buttherewasnosound.Andhiseyes,ignoringKhaledcompletely,staredamessageintomine.
AndthenIcouldhearhim,hearhisvoiceinmyhead.Yousee?hiseyessaidtome.I’mrightnottotrustanyofyou…Youwanttokillme…Allofyou…Youwantmedead…Butit’sallright…Idon’tmind…Igiveyoumypermission…Iwantyoutodoit…
Weheardasound,afootstep,behindus.KhaledandIjumpedandwhirledinfrighttoseeKhader,Nazeer,andAhmedZadehrushingtojoinus.Whenwelookedback,Habibwasgone.
“Whatiswrong?”Khaderasked.
“It’sHabib,”Khaledanswered,searchingthedarknessforasignofthemadman.“Hewentcrazy…he_iscrazy…hekilledSiddiqi…draggedhisbodyhere,andstabbedhiminthethroat.”
“Whereheis?”Nazeerdemandedangrily.
“Idon’tknow,”Khaledreplied,shakinghishead.“Didyouseehimgo,Lin?”
“No.Iturnedwithyou,toseeKhader,andwhenIlookedbackhewas…just…gone.Ithinkhemust’vejumpeddownintotheravine.”
“Hecan’thavejumped,”Khaledfrowned.“It’sgottabefiftyyardsdownthere.Hecan’thavejumped.”
AbdelKhaderwaskneelingbesidethedeadman,whisperingprayerswithhishandsheldpalmsupwards.
“Wecanlookforhimtomorrow,”Ahmedsaid,puttingacomfortinghandonKhaled’sshoulder.Helookedupatthenightsky.“Thereisnotmuchofthismoonlightleftforustowork.Westillhavealottodo.Don’tworry.Ifhe’sstillaroundhere,wewillfindhimtomorrow.Andifwedonot-ifheisgone-perhapsitisnottheworstforus,non?”
“Iwanttheguardtowatchforhimtonight,”Khaledordered.“Ourownguys-themenwhoknowHabibwell-nottheguysfromhere.”
“Oui,”Zadehagreed.“Idon’twantthemtoshoothim,iftheycanhelpit,”Khaledcontinued,“butIdon’twantthemtotakeanychances,either.
Makeacheckofallhisstuff-checkhishorse,andhispack.Seewhatweaponsorexplosiveshemight’vehadonhim.Ididn’tgettoogoodalook,before,butIthinkhehadsomestuffunderhisjacket.Fuck,thisisamess!”
“Don’tworry,”Zadehmuttered,puttingahandonKhaled’sshoulderoncemore.
“Ican’thelpit,”thePalestinianinsisted,lookingaroundhimintothedarkness.“It’safuckin’badstart.Ithinkhe’soutthere,staringatus,rightnow.”
WhenKhadercompletedhisprayers,wecarriedSiddiqi’sbodybacktothecanvasshamiana,andwrappeditinclothuntiltheritualsofburialcouldbeperformedonthefollowingday.Weworkedforafewhoursmoreandthenlaydowninthecavern,sidebysideforsleep.Thesnoringwasloud,andtheexhaustedmenwererestlessintheirslumber,butIlayawakeforotherreasons.Myeyeskeptdriftingbacktotheplace,moonlessandthicklyshadowed,whereHabibhaddisappeared.Khaledwasright.Ithadstartedbadly,Khader’swar,andthewordsechoedinmywakefulmind.Abadstart…
Itriedtofixmyeyesontheclearandperfectstarsofthatfatednight’sblackheaven,butagainandagainmyconcentrationlapsed,andIfoundmyselfstaringatthedarkedgeoftheplateau.AndIknew,inthewayweknowwithoutawordthatloveislost,orinthesudden,surewayweknowthatafriendisfalseanddoesn’treallylikeusatall,thatKhader’swarwouldendmuchworse,forallofus,thanithadbegun.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
FortwomonthsofcoldandevercolderdayswelivedwiththeguerrillafightersintheircavecomplexontheShar-i-Safarange.Theywerehardmonthsinmanyways,butourmountainstrongholdnevercameunderdirectfire,andwewererelativelysafe.Thecampwasonlyfiftycrow-kilometresfromKandahar.ItwasabouttwentykilometresfromthemainKabulhighwayandaboutfiftykilometressouth-eastoftheArghandabDam.TheRussiansoccupiedKandahar,buttheirholdonthesoutherncapitalwastenuousandthecitywassubjecttorecurringsieges.Rocketshadbeenfiredintothecitycentre,andguerrillafightingontheoutskirtsclaimedasteadytolloflives.Themainhighwaywasinthehandsofseveralwell-armedmujaheddinunits.RussiantankandtruckconvoysfromKabulwereforcedtoblasttheirwaythroughblockadestoresupplyKandahar,andthattheydid,frommonthtomonth.AfghanregulararmyunitsloyaltotheKabulpuppetgovernmentprotectedthestrategicallyimportantArghandabDam,butfrequentattacksonthedamthreatenedtheirholdonthepreciousresource.Thuswewereroughlyinthecentreofatriadofviolentconflictzones,eachofwhichconstantlydemandednewmenandguns.TheShar-i-Safarangeofferednostrategicadvantagetoourenemies,sothefightingdidn’tfindusinourwell-disguisedmountaincaverns.
Theweathershiftedduringthoseweekstothecoldheartofaseverewinter.Snowfellinfitfulgustsandsquallsthatleftussoddeninourmany-layeredpatchworkuniforms.Afreezingmistdriftedsoslowlythroughthemountainsthatitsometimeshungsuspendedforhoursatatime:stillandwhiteandasimpenetrabletothegazeasfrostedglass.Thegroundwasalwaysmuddyorfrozen,andeventhestonewallsofthecaveswelivedinseemedtoringandtremblewiththeicychilloftheseason.
PartofKhader’scargohadconsistedofhandtoolsandmachinecomponents.We’dsetuptwoworkshopsinthefirstdaysafterourarrival,andtheywerebusythroughoutthecreepingweeksofthewinter.Therewasasmallcapstanlathe,whichwe’dboltedtoahomemadetable.Thelatheranonadieselengine.Thefightersfeltcertainthattherewerenoenemyforceswithinearshot,butstillwedampeneditsnoisewithalittleiglooofburlapsacksthatcoveredtheengine,leavinggapsfortheairinletandexhaustgasoutlet.Thesameenginepoweredagrindingwheelandaspeeddrill.
Withthatassembly,thefightersrepairedtheirweaponsandsometimesadaptedthemtosuitnewanddifferentpurposes.Firstamongthoseweaponswerethemortars.Afteraircraftandtanks,themosteffectivebattleweaponinAfghanistanwastheRussian82-millimetremortar.Theguerrillasboughtthemortars,stolethem,orcapturedtheminhand-to-handfighting,oftenatthecostofhumanlives.TheweaponswerethenturnedontheRussians,who’dbroughtthemintothecountryinordertoconquerit.Ourworkshopsstrippedthemortarsdown,refittedthem,andpackedtheminwaxedbagsforuseincombatzonesasfarawayasZaranjinthewest,andKunduzinthenorth.
Apartfromthecartridgepliersandcrimpingtools,theammunitionandtheexplosives,Khader’scargoalsoincludednewpartsfortheKalashnikovsthathe’dpurchasedinthearmsbazaarsinPeshawar.TheRussianAK-AvtomatKalashnikova-wasdesignedbyMikhailKalashnikovinthe1940s,inresponsetoGermanarmamentinnovations.TowardtheendoftheSecondWorldWar,GermanarmygeneralsdisobeyedtheexplicitordersofAdolphHitlerandproducedanautomaticassaultrifle.ThearmamentsengineerHugoSchmeisser,usingthegermofanearlierRussianconcept,developedaweaponthatwasshort,light,andfireditsmagazineofthirtybulletsatapracticalrateofmorethanahundredroundsperminute.Hitlerwassoimpressedwiththeweaponhe’dpreviouslyforbiddenthathenamedittheSturmgewehr,orStormWeapon,andimmediatelyordereditsintensiveproduction.Itwastoolittle,toolatefortheNaziwareffort,butSchmeisser’sStormWeaponsetthetrendforallassaultriflesfortherestofthecentury.
Kalashnikov’sAK-47,themostinfluentialandwidelymanufacturedofthenewassaultrifles,operatedbydivertingsomeofthepropellantgasesproducedbyafiredbulletintoacylinderabovethebarrel.Thegasdroveapistonthatforcedtheboltbackagainstitsspring,andcockedthehammerforthenextround.Therifleweighedaboutfivekilos,carriedthirtyroundsinitscurvedmetalmagazine,andfiredthe7.62-millimetreroundsataround2,300feetpersecond,overaneffectiverangegreaterthan300metres.Itfiredmorethanahundredroundsperminuteonauto,andaboutfortyroundseveryminuteonthesemi-automatic,single-shotfunction.
Theriflehaditslimitations,andthemujaheddinfighterswerequicktoexplainthemtome.Thelowmuzzle-velocityoftheheavy7.62-millimetrerounddefinedaloopingtrajectorythatcalledfortrickyadjustmentstohitatargetatthreehundredmetresormore.MuzzleflashonfiringtheAKwassobright,particularlywiththenew74series,thatitblindedthefireratnight,andoftenbetrayedhisposition.Thebarreloverheatedrapidly,becomingtoohottohold.Sometimesaroundgrewsohotinthechamberthatitexplodedintheuser’sface.Thatfactexplainedwhysomanyguerrillafightersheldthegunawayfromtheirbodies,orovertheirheads,inbattleoperations.
Nevertheless,therifleworkedperfectlyaftertotalimmersioninwater,mud,orsnow,anditremainedoneofthemostefficientandreliablekillingmachineseverdevised.Inthefirstfourdecadesafteritsdevelopment,fiftymillionofthemwereproduced-morethananyotherfirearminhistory-andtheKalashnikov,inallitsforms,wascarriedasapreferredstrikeweaponbyrevolutionaries,regularsoldiers,mercenaries,andgangstersalloverthefightingworld.
TheoriginalAK-47wasmadeofforgedandmilledsteel.TheAK-74,producedinthe1970s,wasmadefromstampedmetalparts.
SomeoftheolderAfghanfightersrejectedthenewerweapon,withitssmaller5.45-millimetreroundanditsorangeplasticmagazine,preferringthesolidityoftheheavierAK-47.Someyoungerfighterschosethe74model,dismissingtheheaviergunasanantique.ThemodelstheyusedwereproducedinEgypt,Syria,Russia,andChina.Althoughtheywereessentiallyidentical,thefightersoftenpreferredonetoanother,andthetradeintheweapons,evenwithinthesameunit,wasenergeticandintense.
Khader’sworkshopsrepairedandrefittedtheAKsofeveryseries,andmodifiedthemasrequired.Theworkshopswerepopularplaces.
TheAfghanmenwereinsatiableintheirdesiretoknowaboutweaponsandlearnnewskillswiththem.Itwasn’tafrenziedorbrutalcuriosity.ItwassimplynecessarytoknowhowtohandlegunsinalandthathadbeeninvadedbyAlexandertheGreat,theHuns,theSakas,theScythians,theMongols,theMoghuls,theSafavids,theBritish,andtheRussians,amongmanyothers.Evenwhentheyweren’tstudyingattheworkshopsorhelpingoutwiththework,themengatheredtheretodrinkteamadeonspiritstoves,smokecigarettes,andtalkabouttheirlovedones.
AndfortwomonthsIworkedwiththemeveryday.Imeltedleadandothermetalsinthelittleforge.Ihelpedtogatherscrapsoffirewood,andcarriedwaterfromaspringatthefootofanearbyravine.TrudgingthroughthelightsnowIdugoutnewlatrines,andcarefullycoveredthemoverandconcealedthemagainwhentheywerefull.Iturnednewpartsontheturretlathe,andmeltedthehelicalmetalshavingstomakemoreparts.
InthemorningsItendedtothehorses,whichwerebilletedinanothercavefurtherdownthemountain.Whenitwasmyturntomilkthegoats,Ichurnedthemilkintobutterandhelpedtocooknaanbread.Ifanymanneededattentionforacutorgrazeorsprainedankle,Isetupthefirst-aidkitanddidmybesttohealhim.
Ilearnedtheansweringchorusesofafewsongs,andintheeveningswhenthefiresweresmotheredandwehuddledtogetherforwarmth,Isangwiththemenassoftlyastheydid.Ilistenedtothestoriesthattheywhisperedintothedark,andthatKhaled,Mahmoud,andNazeertranslatedforme.Eachdaywhenthemenprayed,Ikneltwiththeminsilence.Andatnight,enclosedwithinthebreathing,snoringswatheoftheirsoldier-scentedsleep-smellsofwood-smoke,gunoil,cheapsandalwoodsoap,piss,shit,sweatsoakingintowet-serge,unwashedhumanandhorsehair,linimentandsaddle-softener,cuminandcoriander,pepperminttoothpowder,chai,tobacco,andahundredothers-Idreamedwiththemofhomesandheartswelongedtoseeagain.
Then,whenthesecondmonthended,andthelastweaponswererepairedandmodified,andthesupplieswe’dbroughtwithuswereallbutexhausted,Khaderbhaiorderedustoprepareforthelongwalkhome.Heplannedtomakeadetourwest,towardKandaharandawayfromtheborderwithPakistan,todeliversomehorsestohisfamily.Afterthat,withmarchingpacksandlightweapons,wewouldmarchbynightuntilwereachedthesafetyofthePakistanborder.
“Thehorsesarenearlyloaded,”IreportedtoKhaderwhenI’dpackedmyowngear.“KhaledandNazeerwillbebackupherewhenit’salldone.Theytoldmetoletyouknow.”WewereontheflattenedtopofatorthatgaveacommandingviewofthevalleysandthenthedesertplainthatstretchedfromthefootofthemountainsallthewaytoKandaharatthehorizon.Foronce,thecloudymistsandsnowhadclearedenoughforustotakeinthewhole,panoramicsweepoftheview.Thereweredark,thickcloudsmassedtotheeastofus,andthecoldairwasdampwiththerainandsnowtheywouldbring,butforthemomentwecouldseeallthewaytotheendoftheworld,andourwintryeyesweredrowninginthebeautyofit.
“InNovemberof1878,thesamemonththatwestartedthismission,theBritishforcedtheirwaythroughtheKhyberPass,andthesecondAfghanwarwiththembegan,”Khadersaid,ignoringmyreport,orperhapsrespondingtoitinhisownway.HestaredtowardtherippleofhazeonthehorizoncausedbythesmokeandfireofdistantKandahar.Iknewthatsomeofthehorizon’sshimmeranddrizzlemight’vebeenexplodingrockets,firedintothecitybymenwho’dlivedthereonceasteachersandmerchants.
InthewaragainsttheRussianinvaders,they’dbecomedevilsinexile,rainingfireupontheirownhomesandshopsandschools.
“ThroughKhyberPass,therecameoneofthemostfeared,brave,andbrutalsoldiersinthewholeBritishRaj.HisnamewasRoberts,LordFrederickRoberts.HecapturedKabul,andbeganaruthlessmartiallawthere.Ononeday,eighty-sevenAfghansoldierswerekilledbyhanginginthepublicsquare.Buildingsandmarketsweredestroyed,villageswereburned,andhundredsofAfghanpeoplewerekilled.InJune,anAfghanPrincenamedAyubKhanannouncedajihadtodriveouttheBritish.HeleftHeratwithtenthousandmen.Hewasanancestorofmine,amanofmyfamily,andmanyofmykinsmenwereinthearmythatheraised.”
Hestoppedtalkingandflickedaglanceatme,hisgoldeneyesgleamingbeneaththesilver-greybrows.Hiseyesweresmiling,buthisjawwassetandhislipswerecompressedsotightlythattheyshowedwhiteattherims.Reassured,perhaps,thatIwaslisteningtohim,helookedbacktothesmoulderinghorizon,andspokeagain.
“TheBritishofficerinchargeofKandaharcityatthattime,amannamedBurrows,wassixty-threeyearsold,thesameagethatIamtoday.HemarchedoutofKandaharwithonethousandfivehundredmen-BritishandIndiansoldiers-andhemetPrinceAyubataplacecalledMaiwand.Youcanseetheplacefromhere,wherewesit,whentheweatherisgoodenough.Inthebattle,botharmiesfiredcanons,killinghundredsofmeninthemostterriblewaysthatcanbeimagined.
Whentheymeteachother,asonemantoanotherman,theyfiredtheirgunsatsuchcloserangethatthebulletswentthroughonebodytostrikethenext.TheBritishlosthalftheirnumber.TheAfghanslosttwothousandfivehundredmen.Buttheywonthebattle,andtheBritishwereforcedtoretreattoKandahar.
PrinceAyubimmediatelysurroundedthecity,andthesiegeofKandaharbegan.”
Itwascold,bitterlycoldonthewindytor,despitetheunusuallybright,clearsunlight.Ifeltmylegsandarmsgrowingnumb,andIlongedtostandupandstampmyfeet,butIdidn’twanttodisturbhim.Instead,Ilittwobeedies,andpassedonetohim.Heacceptedit,raisinghiseyebrowinthanks,andtooktwolongpuffsbeforecontinuing.
“LordRoberts-doyouknowsomething,Lin,myfirstteacher,mydearMackenzieEsquire,alwayssaidthisthing,Bobsyouruncle,allthetime,anditbecameathingthatIalsosaid,toimitatehim.Then,oneday,hetoldmethatthesayingcamefromhim,fromLordFrederickRoberts,because,yousee,themanwhokilledmypeopleinhundredswassokindtohisownsoldiersthattheycalledhimUncleBobs.Andtheysaidthatifhewasincharge,everythingwouldbewell-Bobsyouruncle.Ineversaidthatagain,notever,afterhetoldmethat.Andsomethingthatisverystrange-mydearMackenzieEsquirewasthegrandsonofamanwhofoughtinthearmyofLordRoberts.HisgrandfatherandmykinsmenfoughteachotherinthesecondBritishwaragainstAfghanistan.ThatiswhyMackenzieEsquirehadsuchfascinationforthehistoryofmycountryandsuchknowledgeaboutthewars.
And,thanksbetoAllah,Ididhavehimasmyfriend,andmyteacher,whilemenwerestillalivewhoborethescarsoffightingthewarthatkilledhisgrandfather,andkilledmine.”
Hepausedagain,andwelistenedtothewind,feelingthefirststingofthenewsnowthatitwasbringingtous:theshiveringwindthatbeganindistantBamiyan,anddraggedthesnowandiceandfrostyairfromeverymountainallthewaytoKandahar.
“AndsoLordRobertswentfromKabul,withaforceoftenthousandmen,torelievethesiegeofKandahar.Two-thirdsofhismenwereIndiansoldiers-andtheyweregoodfightingmen,thoseIndianSepoys.RobertsmarchedthemfromKabultoKandahar,adistanceofthreehundredmiles,intwenty-twodays.Muchmorethanthedistancewecovered,youandI,fromChaman,onourjourney-andyouknowthattookusamonth,withgoodhorses,andhelpfromvillagesalongtheway.
Andtheymarched,fromfreezingsnowmountainstoburningdesert,andthen,aftertwentydaysofthisunbelievablemarchthroughhell,theyfoughtagreatbattlewiththearmyofPrinceAyubKhan,andtheydefeatedhim.RobertssavedtheBritishinthecity,andfromthatday,evenafterhebecamethefieldmarshalofallthesoldiersintheBritishEmpire,hewasalwaysknownasRobertsofKandahar.”
“WasPrinceAyubkilled?”
“No.Heescaped.ThentheBritishputhisclosekinsmanAbdulRahmanKhanonthethroneofAfghanistan.AbdulRahmanKhan,alsoanancestorofmine,ruledthecountrywithsuchaspecialwisdomthattheBritishhadnorealpowerinAfghanistan.Thesituationwasexactlythesameasitwasbefore-beforethegreatsoldierandgreatkiller,Bobsyouruncle,forcedhiswaythroughtheKhyberPasstofightthewar.Butthepointofthisstory,nowthatwesithereandlookatthefiresofmyburningcity,isthatKandaharisthekeytoAfghanistan.Kabulistheheart,butKandaharisthesoulofthisnation,andwhorulesKandaharalsorulesAfghanistan.WhentheRussiansareforcedtoleavemycity,theywilllosethiswar.Notuntilthen.”
“Ihateitall,”Isighed,sureinmyownmindthatthenewwarwouldchangenothing:thatwarscan’treallychangethings.It’speacethatmakesthedeepestcuts,Ithought.AndIrememberthinkingit-Irememberthinkingthatitwasacleverphrase,andhopingforachancetoworkitintoourconversation.Iremembereverythingaboutthatday.Iremembereveryword,andallthosefoolish,vain,unwarythoughts,asiffatehadjustnowslappedmyfacewiththem.“Ihateitall,andI’mgladwe’regoinghometoday.”
“Whoareyourfriendshere?”heaskedme.Thequestionsurprisedme,andIcouldn’tguessathisintention.Readingmybaffledexpression,andclearlyamused,heaskedmeagain.“Ofthoseyouhavecometoknowhere,onthismountain,whoareyourfriends?”
“Well,Khaled,obviously,andNazeer-”
“So,Nazeerisyourfriendnow?”
“Yeah,”Ilaughed.“He’safriend.AndIlikeAhmedZadeh.AndMahmoudMelbaaf,theIranian.AndSuleimanisokay,andJalalaad–he’sawildkid-andZaherRasul,thefarmer.”KhadernoddedasIranthroughthelist,butwhenhemadenocommentIfeltmovedtospeakagain.
“They’reallgoodmen,Ithink.Everyonehere.Butthose…thosearethemenIgetonwiththebest.Isthatwhatyoumean?”
“Whatisyourfavouritetaskhere?”heasked,changingthesubjectasquicklyandunexpectedlyashisportlyfriendAbdulGhanimight’vedone.
“Myfavourite…it’scrazy,andIneverthoughtI’deversaythis,butIthinktendingthehorsesismyfavouritejob.”
Hesmiled,andthesmilebubbledintoalaugh.Iwassure,somehow,thathewasthinkingaboutthenightI’driddenintothecamphangingfromtheneckofmyhorse.
“Okay,”Igrinned,“I’mnotthebesthorsemanintheworld.”
Helaughedtheharder.
“ButIreallystartedtomissthemwhenwegothereandyoutoldustostablethehorsesdownthemountain.It’sfunny-Isortofgotusedtothembeingaround,andit’salwaysmademefeelgood,somehow,goingdowntoseethemandbrushthemandfeedthem.”
“Iunderstand,”hemurmured,readingmyeyes.“Tellme,whentheothersareprayingandyoujointhem-I’veseenyousometimes,kneelingbehindthemandnotveryclose-whatwordsareyousaying?Aretheyprayers?”
“I’m…notreallysayinganythingatall,”Ireplied,frowning.
Ilittwomorebeedies,notfortheneedofthem,butforthedistractiontheyprovided,andtheirlittlewarmth.
“Whatareyouthinking,then,ifyou’renotspeaking?”heasked,acceptingthesecondcigaretteashetossedawaythebuttofthefirst.
“Icouldn’tcallthemprayers.Idon’tthinkso.Ithinkaboutpeople,mostly.Ithinkaboutmymother…andmydaughter.IthinkaboutAbdullah…andPrabaker-I’vetoldyouabouthim,myfriendwhodied.Irememberfriends,andpeopleIlove.”
“Youthinkaboutyourmother.Whataboutyourfather?”
“No.”
Isaiditquickly-tooquickly,perhaps-andIfelthimwatchingmecloselyasthesecondspassed.
“Isyourfatherliving,Lin?”
“Ithinkso.ButI…Ican’tbesure.AndIdon’tcare,onewayortheother.”“Youmustcareaboutyourfather,”hedeclared,lookingawayagain.Itseemedsuchacondescendingadmonitiontomethen:heknewnothingaboutmyfatherormyrelationshiptohim.Iwassocaughtupinresentments,newandold,thatIdidn’theartheanguishinhisvoice.Ididn’trealise,asIdonow,thathe,too,wasanexiledsontalkingabouthisownfather.
“You’remoreofafathertomethanheis,”Isaid,andalthoughIfeltittobetrue,andIwasopeningmyhearttohim,thewordscameoutsoundingsulkyandalmostspiteful.
“Don’tsaythat!”hesnapped,glaringatme.Itwastheclosestheevercametoshowingangerinmypresence,andIflinchedinvoluntarilyatthesuddenvehemence.Hisexpressionsoftenedatonce,andhereachedouttoputahandonmyshoulder.“Whataboutyourdreams?Whatareyoudreamingabouthere?”
“Dreams?”
“Yes.Tellmeaboutyourdreams.”
“I’mnothavingmany,”Ireplied,tryinghardtorecall.“It’sweird,youknow,butI’vehadnightmaresforalongtime-prettymuchsincetheescapefromjail.Nightmaresaboutbeingcaught,orfightingtostopthemcatchingme.Butsincewe’vebeenuphere,Idon’tknowifit’sthethinair,orbeingsodamntiredandcoldwhenIgettosleep,ormaybejustworryaboutthewar,butI’mnothavingthosenightmares.Nothere.I’vehadacoupleofgooddreams,infact.”
“Goon.”
Ididn’twanttogoon:thedreamshadbeenaboutKarla.
“Just…happydreams,aboutbeinginlove.”
“Good,”hemurmured,noddingseveraltimes,andtakinghishandfrommyshoulder.Heseemedsatisfiedwithmyreply,buthisexpressionwasdowncastandalmostgrim.“I,too,havehaddreamshere.IdreamedabouttheProphet.WeMuslims,youknow,wearenotsupposedtotellanyone,ifwedreamabouttheProphet.Itisaverygoodthing,averywonderfulthing,andquitecommonamongthefaithful,butweareforbiddentotellwhatwehavedreamed.”
“Why?”Iasked,shiveringinthecold.
“ItisbecausewearestrictlyforbiddentodescribethefeaturesoftheProphet,ortotalkabouthimassomeonewhoisseen.ThiswastheProphet’sownwish,sothatnomanorwomanwouldadorehim,ortakeanyoftheirdevotionsawayfromGod.ThatiswhytherearenoimagesoftheProphet-nodrawings,orpaintings,orstatues.ButIdiddreamofhim.AndIamnotaverygoodMuslim,amI?
BecauseIamtellingyouaboutmydream.Hewasonfoot,walkingsomewhere.Irodeupbehindhimonmyhorse-itwasaperfect,beautifulwhitehorse-andalthoughIdidn’tseehisface,Iknewitwashim.SoIgotdownfrommyhorse,andgaveittohim.Andmyfacewaslowered,outofrespect,allthetime.Butatlast,Iliftedmyeyestoseehimridingawayintothelightofthesettingsun.Thatwasmydream.”
Hewascalm,butIknewhimwellenoughtoseethedejectionthathoodedhiseyes.Andtherewassomethingelse,somethingsonewandstrangethatittookmeafewmomentstorealisewhatitwas:fear.AbdelKhaderKhanwasafraid,andIfeltmyownskincreepandtighteninresponse.Itwasunimaginable.UntilthatmomentI’dtrulybelievedthatKhaderbhaiwasafraidofnothing.
Unnervedandworried,Imovedtochangethesubject.
“Khaderji,IknowI’mchangingthesubject,butcanyouanswerthisquestionforme?I’vebeenthinkingaboutsomethingyousaidawhileago.Yousaidthatlifeandconsciousnessandallthatotherstuffcomesfromlight,attheBigBang.AreyousayingthatlightisGod?”
“No,”heanswered,andthatsudden,fearfuldepressionliftedfromhisfeatures,drivenoffbyalookthatIcouldonlyreadasalovingsmile.“IdonotthinkthatlightisGod.Ithinkitispossible,anditisreasonabletosay,thatlightisthelanguageofGod.LightmaybethewaythatGodspeakstotheuniverse,andtous.”
Icongratulatedmyselfonthesuccessfulchangeofthemeandmoodbystandingup.Istampedmyfeetandslappedatmysidestogetthebloodmoving.Khaderjoinedmeandwebegantheshortwalkbacktothecamp,blowingwarmthintoourfrozenhands.
“Thisisastrangelight,speakingaboutlight,”Ipuffed.“Thesunshines,butit’sacoldsun.There’snowarmthinit,andyoufeelstrandedbetweenthecoldsunandtheevencoldershadows.”
“Beachedthereintanglesofflicker…”Khaderquoted,andIsnappedmyheadaroundsoquicklythatIfeltatwingeofpaininmyneck.
“Whatdidyousay?”
“Itwasaquote,”Khaderrepliedslowly,sensinghowimportantitwastome.“Itisalinefromapoem.”Ipulledmywalletfrommypocket,reachedintoit,andtookoutafoldedpaper.ThepagewassocreasedandrubbedbywearthatwhenIopeneditthefold-linesshowedgapsandtears.ItwasKarla’spoem:theoneI’dcopiedfromherjournal,twoyearsbefore,whenIwenttoherapartmentwithTariqontheNightoftheWildDogs.I’dcarrieditwithmeeversince.InArthurRoadPrisontheofficershadtakenthepagefrommeandtornitintopieces.WhenVikrambribedmywayoutoftheprisonIwroteitoutagainfrommemory,andIcarrieditwithmeeveryday,everywhereIwent.Karla’spoem.
“Thispoem,”Isaidexcitedly,holdingthetattered,flutteringsheetoutforhimtosee.“Itwaswrittenbyawoman.AwomannamedKarlaSaaranen.ThewomanyousenttoGupta-ji’splacewithNazeerto…togetmeoutofthere.I’mamazedthatyouknowit.It’sincredible.”
“No,Lin,”heansweredevenly.“ThepoemwaswrittenbyaSufipoetnamedSadiqKhan.Iknowhispoemsbyheart,manyofthem.
Heismyfavouritepoet.AndheisKarla’sfavouritepoetalso.”
Thewordswereicearoundmyheart.
“Karla’sfavouritepoet?”
“Idobelieveso.”
“Justhowwell…howwelldoyouknowKarla?”
“Iknowherverywell.”
“Ithought…IthoughtyoumetherwhenyougotmeoutofGupta’s.Shesaid…Imean,Ithoughtshesaidthatwaswhenshemetyou.”
“No,Lin,thatisnotcorrect.IhaveknownKarlaforyears.Sheworksforme.Oratleast,sheworksforAbdulGhani,andGhaniworksforme.Butshemusthavetoldyouaboutit,didn’tshe?
Didn’tyouknowthis?Iamverysurprised.IwassurethatKarlawouldhavetalkedtoyouaboutme.Certainly,Ihavetalkedtoheraboutyou,manytimes.”
Mymindwaslikethescreamingjetsthathadscreechedoverusinthedarkravine:allnoiseandblackfears.WhathadKarlasaidaswelaytogether,strugglingagainstsleep,afterfightingthecholeraepidemic?Iwasonaplane,andImetabusinessman,anIndianbusinessman,andmylifechangedforever…WasthatAbdulGhani?Isthatwhatshemeant?Whyhadn’tIaskedhermoreaboutherwork?Whydidn’tshetellmeaboutit?AndwhatdidshedoforAbdulGhani?
“Whatdoesshedoforyou-forAbdul?”
“Manythings.Shehasmanyskills.”“Iknowaboutherskills,”Igrowledathimangrily.“Whatdoesshedoforyou?”
“Amongotherthings,”Khaderanswered,slowlyandprecisely,“shefindsusefulandtalentedforeigners,suchasyouare.Shefindspeoplewhocanworkforus,whenweneedthem.”
“What?”Iasked,gaspingoutthewordthatwasn’treallyaquestion,andfeelingasifpiecesofmyself-frozenpiecesofmyfaceandmyheart-werefallingsplinteredaroundme.
Hebegantospeakagain,butIcuthimoffquickly.
“AreyousayingthatKarlarecruitedme-foryou?”
“Yes.Shedid.AndIamverygladthatshedid.”
Thecoldwassuddenlyinsideme,runningthroughmyveins,andmyeyesweremadeofsnow.Khaderkeptwalking,butwhenhenoticedthatI’dstopped,hehalted.Hewasstillsmilingwhenheturnedtofaceme.KhaledAnsariapproachedusatthatinstant,andclappedhishandstogetherloudly.
“Khader!Lin!”hegreeteduswiththesad,smallsmilethatI’dcometolove.“I’vemadeupmymind.Igaveitsomethought,Khaderji,justlikeyousaid,butI’vedecidedtostay.Atleastforawhile.Habibwasherelastnight.Thesentriessawhim.
He’sbeendoingsomuchcrazystuff-thethingshe’sdonetoRussianprisoners,andevensomeoftheAfghanprisonersnearhereontheKandaharroadinthelastcoupleweeksare…well,it’sgrislyshit-andI’mhardtoimpressinthatway.It’ssoweird,themenaregoingtodosomethingaboutit.They’resospooked,they’regonnashoothimonsight.They’retalkingabouthuntinghimdownlikeawildanimal.Ihaveto…Ihavetotrytohelphim,somehow.I’mgonnastay,andtrytofindhim,andtrytotalkhimintocomingbacktoPakistanwithme.So…yougoonwithoutmetonight,andI’ll…I’llcomethroughinacoupleofweeks,onthenexttripout.That’s…that’sit,Iguess.That’s…whatIcametosay.”
Therewasacoldsilenceafterthelittlespeech.IstaredatKhader,waitingforhimtospeak.Iwasangry,andIwasafraid.
Itwasaspecialfear-thekindofarcticdreadthatonlylovecaninspire.Khaderstaredbackatmyface,readingme.Khaledlookedfromonetotheotherofus,confusedandconcerned.
“WhataboutthenightImetyouandAbdullah?”Iasked,speakingthroughteethclenchedagainstthecoldandtheevencolderfearthatrippedthroughmelikespasmsofcramp.
“Youforget,”KhaderKhanrepliedalittlemoresternly.Hisfacewasasdarkanddeterminedasmyown.Itneveroccurredtomethenthathe,too,wasfeelingdeceivedandbetrayed.I’dforgottenaboutKarachiandthepoliceraids.I’dforgottenthattherewasatraitorinhisowncircle,someoneclosetohim,who’dtriedtohavehimandmeandtherestofuscapturedorkilled.IneversawhisgrimdetachmentasanythingbutacrueldisregardforwhatIfelt.“YoumetAbdullahalongtimebeforethenightthatwemet.YoumethimatthetempleoftheStandingBabas,isn’tittrue?HewastheretolookafterKarlaonthatnight.Shedidnotknowyouwell.Shewasnotsureofyou,notsurethatshecouldtrustyou,inaplacethatshedidnotknow.
Shewantedsomeonetherewhocouldhelpher,ifyouhadnogoodintentionwithher.”
“Hewasherbodyguard…”Imuttered,thinkingshedidn’ttrustme…
“Yes,Lin,hewas,andagoodone.Iunderstanditthattherewassomeviolence,onthatnight.Abdullahdiddosomethingtosaveher-andperhapstosaveyou.Isn’tthattrue?ThiswasAbdullah’sjob,toprotectthepeopleforme.ThatiswhyIsenthimtofollowyouwhenmynephewTariqwenttostaywithyouinthezhopadpatti.Andontheveryfirstnight,hedidhelpyoutofightsomewilddogs,isn’tittrue?AndforthewholetimethatTariqwaswithyou,Abdullahwasclosetoyou,andtoTariq,justasItoldhimtobe.”
Iwasn’tlistening.Mymindwasallangryarrows,whistlingbackwardtoamuchearliertimeandplace.IwassearchingforKarla-fortheKarlaIknewandloved-buteverymomentwithherbegantogiveupitssecretanditslie.IrememberedthefirsttimeI’dmether,thefirstsecond,howshe’dreachedouttostopmefromwalkinginfrontofthebus.ItwasonArthurBunderRoad,onthecornerneartheCauseway,notfarfromtheIndiaGuestHouse.Itwastheheartofthetouristbeat.Wasshewaitingthere,huntingforforeignerslikeme,lookingforusefulrecruitswhocouldworkforKhaderwhenheneededthem?Ofcourseshewas.I’ddoneitmyself,inaway,whenI’dlivedintheslum.I’dloiteredthere,inthesameplace,lookingforforeignersjustofftheplanewhowantedtochangemoneyorbuysomecharras.
Nazeerwalkeduptojoinus.AhmedZadehwasafewpacesbehindhim.TheystoodtogetherwithKhaderbhaiandKhaled,facingme.
Nazeerscrewedhisfaceintoascowl,andscannedtheskyfromsouthtonorth,calculatingtheminutesbeforethesnowstormhitus.Thepackingforthereturnjourneywascompleteanddouble-checked,andhewasanxioustoleave.
“Andthehelpyougavemewiththeclinic?”Iasked,feelingsick,andknowingthatifIunlockedmykneesandletmylegsrelax,theywouldcrumpleandfoldbeneathme.WhenKhaderdidn’tspeak,Irepeatedthequestion.“Whatabouttheclinic?Whydidyouhelpmewiththeclinic?Wasthatpartofyourplan?Of_thisplan?”
Afreezingwindblewintothebroadplateau,andweallshuddered,unsteadied,astheforceofitwhippedatourclothesandfaces.Theskydarkenedswiftlyasadirty,greytideofcloudcrossedthemountainsandtumbledontowardthedistantplainandtheshimmering,dyingcity.
“Youdidgoodworkthere,”hereplied.
“That’snotwhatIaskedyou.”
“Idon’tthinkthisistherighttimetotalkofsuchthings,Lin.”
“Yes,itis,”Iinsisted.
“Therearethingsyouwillnotunderstand,”hestated,asifhe’dthoughtitthroughmanytimes.
“Justtellme.”
“Verywell.Allofthemedicinethatwebroughtheretothiscamp,alloftheantibioticsandpenicillinforthewar,wassuppliedtousbyRanjit’slepers.Ihadtoknowifitwassafetousehere.”
“Ah,Jesus…”Imoaned.
“SoIusedtheopportunity,thestrangefactthatyou,aforeigner,withnoconnectiontoafamilyoranembassy,setupaclinicinmyownslum-Itookthatchancetotestthesuppliesonthepeopleinthezhopadpatti.Ihadtobesure,youunderstand,beforeIbroughtthemedicinesintothewar.”
“ForGod’ssake,Khader!”Isnarled.
“Ihadtobe-”
“Onlyafuckin’maniacwoulddothat!”
“Takeiteasy,Lin!”Khaledsnappedbackatme.TheothermentensedoneithersideofKhader,asiftheyfearedthatImightattackhim.“You’rewayouttaline,man!”
“I’moutofline!”Ispluttered,feelingmyteethchatter,andstrugglingtomakemynumblimbsobeymymind.“I’moutoffuckin’line!Heusesthepeopleintheslumasguineapigsorlabratsorwhateverthefuck,totesthisantibiotics-usingmetotrickthemintodoingit,becausetheybelievedinme-andI’mtheonewho’soutofline!”
“No-onegothurt,”Khaledshoutedbackatme.“Themedicineswereallgood,andtheworkyoudidtherewasgood.Peoplegotwell.”
“Weshouldgetoutofthecold,now,andtalkaboutit,”AhmedZadehputinquickly,hopingtoconciliate.“Khader,you’llhavetowaitforthissnowtoclearbeforeyouleave.Let’sgetinside.”
“Youmustunderstand,”Khadersaidfirmly,ignoringhim.“Itwasadecisionofwar-twentylivesriskedagainstthesavingofathousand,andathousandriskedtosaveamillion.Andyoumustbelieveme,weknewthatthemedicinesweregood.ThechanceofRanjit’sleperssupplyingimpuremedicineswasverylow.Wewerealmostcompletelysurethatthemedicinewassafewhenwegaveittoyou.”
“TellmeaboutSapna.”Thereitwas,outintheopen,mydeepestsecretfearabouthim,andaboutmyclosenesstohim.“Wasthatyourwork,too?”
“IwasnotSapna.Buttheresponsibilityforhiskillingsdoescomebacktome.Sapnakilledforme-forthiscause.Andifyouwantmetotellyouthewholeofthetruth,IdidmakeagreatbenefitfromSapna’sbloodywork.BecauseofSapna,becauseheexisted,andbecauseoftheirfearofhim,andbecauseImadeacommitmenttofindhimandstophim,thepoliticiansandthepoliceallowedmetobringgunsandotherweaponsthroughBombaytoKarachiandQuetta,andtothiswar.ThebloodSapnaspilled-itdidoilthewheelsforus.AndIwoulddothisagain.IwoulduseSapna’skillings,andIwoulddomorekillings,withmyownhands,ifitwouldhelpourcause.Wehaveacause,Lin,allofushere.Andwefightandweliveandperhapswewillalsodieforthatcause.Ifwewinthisfight,wewillchangethewholeofhistory,forever,fromthistime,andinthisplace,andwiththesebattles.Thatisourcause-tochangethewholeworld.Whatisyourcause?Whatisyourcause,Lin?”
Iwassocold,asthefirstflakeswhirledaboutus,thatIshiveredandshookandcouldn’tstopmyjawfromshuddering.
“Whatabout…whataboutMadameZhou…whenKarlagotmetopretendIwasanAmerican.Wasthatyouridea?Wasthatyourplan?”
“No.KarlahasherownwarwithZhou,andshehadherownreasons.ButIapprovedofherplantouseyou,togetherfriendoutofthePalace.Iwantedtoseeifyoucoulddoit.Ihadthethought,eventhen,thatyouwouldonedaybemyAmericaninAfghanistan.Andyoudidwell,Lin.NotmanypeopledosowellagainstZhouinherownPalace.”
“Onelastthing,Khader,”Istammered.“WhenIwasinjail…didyouhaveanythingtodowiththat?”
Therewasahardsilence,thekindofdeadly,breathingsilencethatinsinuatesitselfintothememorymoredeeplythanthesharpestsound.
“No,”herepliedatlast.“ButthetruthisthatIcouldhavetakenyououtofthere,evenafterthefirstweek,ifIchosetodoit.Iknewaboutitalmostatonce.AndIhadthepowertohelpyou,butIdidnot.NotwhenIcouldhavedoneit.”
IlookedatNazeerandAhmedZadeh.Theystaredbackevenly.MyeyesshiftedtoKhaledAnsari.Hereturnedmystarewithananguishedandangrilydefiantgrimacethatpulledhiswholefaceintothejaggedlashofthescarthatdividedhisfeatures.
Theyallknew.TheyallknewthatKhaderhadleftmeinthere.
Butitwasokay.Khaderdidn’towemeanything.Hewasn’ttheonewhoputmethere.Hedidn’thavetogetmeout.Andhedid,intheend:hedidgetmeoutofjailintheend,andhedidsavemylife.ItwasjustthatI’dtakensomanybeatings,andothermenhadtakenbeatingsforme,tryingtogetamessageouttohim…andevenifwe’dsucceeded,evenifwe’dmanagedtogetamessagetohim,Khaderwould’veignoredit,andleftmethere,untilhewasreadytoact.Itwasjustthatallthehopehadbeensoempty,someaningless.Andifyouprovetoamanhowvainhishopeis,howvainhishopingwas,youkillthebright,believingpartofhimthatwantstobeloved.
“Youwantedtobesurethat…thatI’dbe…sogratefultoyou.Soyou…youleftmethere.Wasthatit?”
“No,Lin.Itwasjustunfortunate,justyourkismetatthattime.
IhadanarrangementwithMadameZhou.Shewashelpingustomeetwiththepoliticians,andgetfavoursfromoneofthegeneralsfromPakistan.Hewasa…contact…ofhers.Hewas,intruth,Karla’sspecialclient.Shewastheonewhofirstbroughthim,thatPakistanigeneral,toMadameZhou.Anditwasacriticalconnection.Hewascriticallyimportanttomyplans.Andshewassoveryangrywithyou,MadameZhou,thatnothinglessthanprisonwouldsatisfyher.Shewantedtohaveyoukilledinthere.Assoonasmyworkwasdone,attheearliestday,IsentyourfriendVikramforyou.YoumustbelievemewhenItellyouthatIneverwantedtohurtyou.Ilikeyou.I-”HestoppedsuddenlybecauseIputmyhandontheholsteratmyhip.Khaled,Ahmed,andNazeertensedatonceandraisedtheirhands,buttheyweretoofarawaytoreachmeinasinglespringingleap,andtheyknewit.
“Ifyoudon’tturnaroundandwalkawaynow,Khader,IsweartoGod,IsweartoGod,I’lldosomethingthat’llfinishusboth.Idon’tcarewhathappenstome,justsolongasIdon’thavetolookatyou,orspeaktoyou,orlistentoyou,everagain.”
Nazeertookaslow,almostcasualstep,andstoodinfrontofKhader,shieldinghimwithhisbody.
“IsweartoGod,Khader.Rightnow,Idon’tcaremuchifIliveordie.”
“But,we’releavingnow,forChaman,whenthesnowclears,”
Khaderreplied,anditwastheonlytimeIeverheardhisvoicewaverandfalter
“Imeanit.I’mnotgoingwithyou.I’mstayinghere.I’llgoonmyown.OrI’llstayhere.Itdoesn’tmatter.Just…get…thefuck…outofmysight.It’smakingmesicktomystomachto_lookatyou!”
Hestoodhisgroundamomentmore,andIcouldfeeltheurgetotakethegunoutandshoothim:anurgethatwasdrowningmeincold,shiveringwavesofrevulsionandrage.
“Youmustknowthis,”hesaidatlast,“whateverwrongIhavedone,Ididfortherightreasons.IneverdidmoretoyouthanIthoughtyoucouldbear.Andyoushouldknow,youmustknow,thatIalwaysfeltforyouasifyouweremyfriend,andmybelovedson.”
“Andyoushouldknowthis,”Iansweredhim,thesnowthickeningonmyhairandshoulders.“Ihateyouwiththewholeofmyheart,Khader.Allyourwisdom,that’sjustwhatitcomesdownto,isn’tit?Puttinghateinpeople.Youaskedmewhatmycauseis.TheonlycauseI’vegotismyownfreedom.Andrightnowthatmeansbeingfreeofyou,forever.”
Hisfacewasstiffwithcold.Snowhadsettledonhismoustacheandbeard,anditwasimpossibletoreadhisexpression.Buthisgoldeneyesgleamedthroughthegrey-whitemist,andtheoldlovewasinthemstill.Thenheturned,andhewasgone.Theothersturnedwithhim,andIwasaloneinthestormwithmyhandfrozenandtremblingontheholster.Isnappedthesafetyclipoff,pulledtheStechkinout,andcockeditquicklyandexpertly,justashe’dtaughtme.Ihelditatmyside,pointedattheground.
Theminutespassed-thekillingminutes,whenImight’vegoneafterhimandkilledhim,andmyself.AndItriedtodropthegunthen,butitwouldn’tfallfrommynumbedandicyfingers.Itriedtoprisethegunfreewithmylefthand,butallmyfingersweresocrampedthatIgaveitup.Andinthewhirlingwhitesnow-domethatmyworldhadbecomeIliftedmyarmstothewhiterain,asIoncehaddonebeneaththewarmraininPrabaker’svillage.AndIwasalone.
WhenI’dclimbedthewalloftheprisonallthoseyearsbefore,itwasasifI’dclimbedawallontherimoftheworld.WhenIsliddowntofreedomIlostthewholeworldthatIknew,andalltheloveitheld.InBombayI’dtried,withoutrealisingit,tomakeanewworldoflovingthatcouldresemblethelostone,andevenreplaceit.Khaderwasmyfather.PrabakerandAbdullahweremybrothers.Karlawasmylover.Andthen,onebyone,theywerealllost.Anotherwholeworldwaslost.
Aclearthoughtcametome,unbidden,andsurginginmymindlikethespokenwordsofapoem.IknewwhyKhaledAnsariwassodeterminedtohelpHabib.IsuddenlyknewwithperfectunderstandingwhatKhaledwasreallytryingtodo.He’stryingtosavehimself,Isaid,morethanonce,feelingmynumblipstremblewiththewords,buthearingtheminmyhead.AndIknew,asIsaidthewordsandthoughtthem,thatIdidn’thateKhaderorKarla:thatIcouldn’thatethem.
Idon’tknowwhymyheartchangedsosuddenlyandsocompletely.
Itmight’vebeentheguninmyhand-thepoweritgavemetotakelife,orletitbe-andtheinstincts,frommydeepestnature,thathadpreventedmefromusingit.Itmight’vebeenthefactoflosingKhaderbhai.For,ashewalkedawayfromme,Iknewinmyblood-thebloodIcouldsmellinthethick,whiteair,thebloodIcouldtasteinmymouth-thatitwasover.Whateverthereason,thechangemovedthroughmelikemonsoonraininthesteelbazaar,andleftnotraceoftheswirling,murderoushateI’dfeltonlymomentsbefore.
IwasstillangrythatI’dputsomuchofason’sloveintoKhader,andthatmysoul,againstthewishesofmyconsciousmind,hadbeggedforhislove.Iwasangrythathe’dconsideredmeexpendable,tobeusedasameanstoachievehisends.AndIwasenragedthathe’dtakenawaytheonethinginmywholelife-myworkastheslumdoctor-thatmight’veredeemedme,inmyownmindifnowhereelse,andmight’vegonesomewaytobalanceallthewrongI’ddone.Eventhatlittlegoodhadbeenpollutedanddefiled.Theangerinmewasashardandheavyasabasalthearthstone,andIknewitwouldtakeyearstoweardown,butIcouldn’thatethem.
They’dliedtomeandbetrayedme,leavingjaggededgeswhereallmytrusthadbeen,andIdidn’tlikeorrespectoradmirethemanymore,butstillIlovedthem.Ihadnochoice.Iunderstoodthat,perfectly,standinginthewhitewildernessofsnow.Youcan’tkilllove.Youcan’tevenkillitwithhate.Youcankill_in-love,andloving,andevenloveliness.Youcankillthemall,ornumbthemintodense,leadenregret,butyoucan’tkillloveitself.Loveisthepassionatesearchforatruthotherthanyourown;andonceyoufeelit,honestlyandcompletely,loveisforever.Everyactoflove,everymomentoftheheartreachingout,isapartoftheuniversalgood:it’sapartofGod,orwhatwecallGod,anditcanneverdie.
Afterwards,whenthesnowcleared,IstoodalittleapartfromKhaledtowatchKhaderbhaiandNazeerandtheirmenleavethecampwiththehorses.ThegreatKhan,themafiadon,myfather,satstraight-backedinhissaddle.Heheldhisstandard,furledaboutthelanceinhishand.Andheneveroncelookedback.
MydecisiontoseparatemyselffromKhaderbhaiandtostaywithKhaledandtheothersinthecamphadincreasedthedangerforme.IwasfarmorevulnerablewithouttheKhanthanIwasinhiscompany.Itwasreasonabletoassume,watchinghimleave,thatIwouldn’tmakeitbacktoPakistan.Ievensaidthosewordstomyself:I’mnotgonnamakeit…I’mnotgonnamakeit…
Butitwasn’tfearthatIfeltaslordAbdelKhaderKhanrodeintothelight-consumingsnow.Iacceptedmyfate,andevenwelcomedit.Atlast,Ithought,I’mgonnagetwhatIdeserve.
Somehow,thatthoughtleftmecleanandclear.WhatIfelt,insteadoffear,washopethathewouldlive.Itwasover,andfinished,andIneverwantedtoseehimagain;butasIwatchedhimrideintothatvalleyofwhiteshadowsIhopedhewouldlive.
Iprayedhewouldbesafe.Iprayedmyheartbreakintohim,andIlovedhim.Ilovedhim.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
Menwagewarsforprofitandprinciple,buttheyfightthemforlandandwomen.Soonerorlater,theothercausesandcompellingreasonsdrowninbloodandlosetheirmeaning.Soonerorlater,deathandsurvivalclogthesenses.Soonerorlater,survivingistheonlylogic,anddyingistheonlyvoiceandvision.Then,whenbestfriendsdiescreaming,andgoodmenmaddenedwithpainandfurylosetheirmindsinthebloodypit,whenallthefairnessandjusticeandbeautyintheworldisblownawaywitharmsandlegsandheadsofbrothersandsonsandfathers,then,whatmakesmenfighton,anddie,andkeepondying,yearafteryear,isthewilltoprotectthelandandthewomen.
Youknowthat’struewhenyoulistentothem,inthehoursbeforetheygointobattle.Theytalkabouthome,andtheytalkaboutthewomentheylove.Andyouknowit’struewhenyouwatchthemdie.Ifhe’sneartheearthorontheearthinthelastmoments,adyingmanreachesoutforit,tosqueezeagraspofsoilinhishand.Ifhecan,he’llraisehisheadtolookatthemountain,thevalley,ortheplain.Ifhe’salongwayfromhome,he’llthinkaboutit,andhe’lltalkaboutit.He’lltalkabouthisvillage,orhishometown,orthecitywherehegrewup.Thelandmatters,attheend.Andattheverylast,hewon’tscreamofcauses.Attheverylast,he’llmurmurorhe’llcryoutthenameofasisteroradaughteroraloveroramother,evenashespeaksthenameofhisGod.Theendmirrorsthebeginning.Intheend,it’sawoman,andacity.
ThreedaysafterKhaderbhaileftthecamp,threedaysafterIwatchedhimrideawayfromusthroughthesoftnewsnow,sentriesatthesouthernlookoutontheKandaharsideofthecampshoutedthatmenwereapproaching.Werushedtothesouthernedgetoseealumpyconfusionofshapes,perhapstwoorthreehumanfigures,strugglingupthesteepslope.Severalofusreachedforbinocularsinthesameinstantandtrainedthemonthespot.Imadeoutonemancrawling,inchinghiswayuptheslopeonhisknees,anddraggingtwopronefigures.AfterafewmomentsofstudyIrecognisedthepowerfulshoulders,thebowedlegs,andthedistinctivegrey-bluefatigues.IhandedthebinocularstoKhaledAnsariandboundedovertheedgeinaslidingrun.
“It’sNazeer!”Ishouted.“Ithinkit’sNazeer!”
Iwasoneofthefirsttoreachhim.Hewasfacedowninthesnow,andhewasbreathinghard.Hislegswerepushingagainstthesnow,seekingpurchase,andhishandswerelockedinwrapsofclothingatthethroatsoftwomen.He’ddraggedthemtothatspotontheirbacks,oneineachhand.Itwasimpossibletoguesshowfarhe’dcome,butitlookedtobealongway,mostofituphill.ThemaninNazeer’slefthand,nearesttome,wasAhmedZadeh.Hewasalive,butseemedtobebadlywounded.TheothermanwasAbdelKhaderKhan.Hewasdead.
IttookthreeofustowrenchNazeer’sfingersfromtheclothes.
Hewassoexhaustedandsocoldthathecouldn’tspeak.Hismouthopenedandclosed,butthevoicewasalong,unsteadycroak.Twomenseizedtheshouldersofhisclothesanddraggedhimbackuptothecamp.IpulledopenKhader’sclothesatthechest,hopingtorevivehim,butwhenIputmyhandonhisbodytheskinwasice-coldandstiffenedandwoody.He’dbeendeadformanyhours,perhapsmorethanaday.Thebodywasrigid.Thearmsandlegswerebentalittleattheelbowsandknees,andthehandswerecurledintoclaws.Hisface,however,wassereneandunblemishedbeneathitsthinshroudofsnow.Hiseyesandhismouthwereclosedasifinapeacefulsleep,andhewassogentlydeadthatmyheartrefusedtobelievehimgone.
WhenKhaledAnsarishookmyshoulder,Icametothemomentasiffromadream,althoughIknewthatI’dbeenawakeforthewholeofthetimesincethesentrieshadfirstgivenusthealarm.Iwaskneelinginthesnow,againstKhader’sbody,andcradlingthehandsomeheadinmyarms,againstmychest,butIhadnorecollectionofdoingit.AhmedZadehwasgone.Menhaddraggedhimbacktothecamp.Khaled,Mahmoud,andIdraggedandhalfcarriedKhader’sbodybackwithusandintothebigcave.
IjoinedagroupofthreemenwhowereworkingonAhmedZadeh.
TheAlgerian’sclotheswerestiffwithfrozenbloodaroundthemiddle,belowthechest.Piecebypiecewecutthemaway,andjustaswereachedthetorn,minced,bloodywoundsonhisrawskin,heopenedhiseyestolookatus.
“I’mwounded…”hesaidinFrench,thenArabic,thenEnglish.
“Yes,mate,”Iansweredhim,meetinghiseyes.Itriedalittlesmile,butitfeltnumbandawkward,andI’msurehedrewlittlecomfortfromit.
Therewereatleastthreewounds,butitwasdifficulttobesure.Hisabdomenhadbeenrippedopenwithavicious,gougingtearthatmight’vebeencausedbyshrapnelfromamortarshell.
ForallthatIcouldtell,thepieceofmetalcould’vebeeninsidehim,nudgingupagainsthisspine.Therewereothergapingwoundsinhisthighandgroin.He’dlostsomuchbloodthathisfleshwascurledandgreyaroundthewounds.Icouldn’tbegintoguesswhatdamagehadbeendonetohisstomachandotherinternalorgans.Therewasastrongsmellofurineandotherwastesandfluids.Thathe’dsurvivedsolongwasamiracle.Itseemedthatthecoldalonehadkepthimalive.Buttheclockwastickingonhim:hehadhoursoronlyminutestolive,andtherewasnothingIcoulddoforhim.
“Itisverybad?”
“Yes,mate,”Iansweredhim,andIcouldn’thelpit-myvoicebrokeasIsaidit.“There’snothingIcando.”
IwishnowthatIdidn’tsayit.OfthehundredthingsthatIwishI’dneversaidordoneinmywickedlife,thatlittlequirkofhonestyisrightupthere,nearthetopofthelist.Ihadn’trealisedhowmuchthehopeofbeingrescuedhadheldhimup.Andthen,withthosewordsofmine,Iwatchedhimfallbackwardintotheblacklake.Thecolourlefthisskin,andthesmalltensionofwillthathadkepthisskintautcollapsed,withlittletwitchesofquiveringsurrender,fromhisjawtohisknees.Iwantedtoprepareaninjectionofmorphineforhim,butIknewthatIwaswatchinghimdie,andIcouldn’tbringmyselftotakemyhandfromhis.
Hiseyescleared,andhelookedaroundhimatthecavewallsasifseeingthemforthefirsttime.MahmoudandKhaledwereononesideofhim.Ikneltontheother.Helookedintoourfaces.Hiseyeswerestartingfromtheirsocketswithfear.Itwasthedesolateterrorofamanwhoknowsthatfatehasabandonedhim,anddeath’salreadyinside,stretchingandswellingandfillingupthelife-spacethatusedtobehis.ItwasalookIcametoknowtoowellintheweeksthatfollowed,andintheyearsbeyond.Butthere,onthatday,itwasnewtome,andIfeltmyscalptightenwithafearthatmimedhis.“Itshouldhavebeendonkeys,”herasped.
“What?”
“Khadershouldhaveuseddonkeys.Itoldhimthatfromthebeginning.Youheardme.Youallheardme.”
“Yes,mate.”
“Donkeys…onthiskindofjob.Igrewupinthemountains.Iknowthemountains.”
“Yes,mate.”
“Itshouldhavebeendonkeys.”
“Yes,”Isaidagain,notknowinghowtorespond.
“Buthewastooproud,KhaderKhan.Hewantedtofeel…themoment…thereturninghero…forhispeople.Hewantedtobringhorsestothem…somanyfinehorses.”
Hestoppedtalking,chokedbyalittleseriesofgruntinggaspsthatbeganinhiswoundedstomach,andthumpedupwardsintohisstutteringchest.Atrickleofdarkfluid,bloodandbile,dribbledfromhisnoseandthecornerofhismouth.Heseemednottonotice.
“Forthat,only,wewentbacktoPakistaninthewrongdirection.
Forthat,todeliverthosehorsestohispeople,wewenttodie.”
Heclosedhiseyes,moaninginpain,butthenjustasquicklyopenedthemagain.
“Ifnotforthosehorses…wewouldhavegoneeast,towardtheborder,directtowardtheborder.Itwas…itwashispride,doyousee?”
Ilookedup,exchangingaglancewithKhaledandMahmoud.Khaledmetmyeye,butthenshiftedhisgazequicklytoconcentrateonhisdyingfriend.Mahmoudheldmystareuntilwebothnodded.Itwasagesturesosubtlethatitwould’vebeenimperceptibletoanobserver,butwebothknewwhatwe’dacknowledgedandwhatwe’dagreeduponwiththatlittlenod.Itwastrue.Itwaspridethathadbroughtthegreatmantohisend.Andstrangeasitmayseemtosomeoneelse,itwasonlythen,understandingtheprideinhisfall,thatIbegantotrulyacceptthatKhaderbhaiwasgone,andtofeelthegaping,hollowsenseofhisdeath.
Ahmedtalkedforawhilelonger.Hetoldusthenameofhisvillage,andhegaveusdirectionsforhowtofinditinrelationtothenearestbigcity.Hetoldusabouthisfatherandmother,abouthissistersandbrothers.Hewantedustoletthemknowthathe’ddiedthinkingofthem.Andhedid,thatbrave,laughingAlgerian,who’dalwayslookedasthoughhewassearchingforafriendinacrowdofstrangers:hediddiewithhismother’sloveonhislips.AndthenameofGodescapedwithhislastbreath.
Wewerefreezing,chilledtothebonesbythestillnesswe’dassumedwhileAhmedlaydying.OthermentookoverthetaskofcleaninghisbodyaccordingtotheritualsofMuslimburial.
Khaled,Mahmoud,andIcheckedonNazeer.Hewasn’twounded,buthewassoutterlyandcrushinglyexhaustedthathissleepresembledthatofamaninacoma.Hismouthwasopen,andhiseyeswereslittedtoshowthewhiteswithin.Hewaswarm,andheseemedtoberecoveringfromhisordeal.Welefthim,andexaminedthebodyofourdeadKhan.
AsinglebullethadenteredKhader’sside,belowtheribs,andseemedtohavetravelleddirectlytohisheart.Therewasnoexitwound,buttherewasextensivebloodcoagulationandbruisingontheleftsideofhischest.ThebulletfiredbyRussianAK-74sinthoseyearshadahollowtip.Thesteelcoreofthebulletwasweightedtowardstherear,causingittotumble.Itcrashedandrippeditswayintoabody,ratherthansimplypiercingit.Suchammunitionwasbannedunderinternationallaw,butalmosteveryoneoftheAfghanswhowaskilledinbattleboretheterriblewoundsofthosebrutalbullets.SoitwaswithourKhan.Thebullethadsmasheditswaythroughhisbody.Thegaping,jaggedwoundinhissidehadleftastreakofbruisingacrosshischestthatendedinablue-blacklotusoverhisheart.
KnowingthatNazeerwouldwanttoprepareKhaderbhai’sbodyforburialhimself,wewrappedtheKhaninblanketsandlefthiminashallow,scooped-outtrenchofsnowneartheentrancetothecaves.We’djustfinishedthetaskwhenawarbling,fluttering,whistleofsounddrewustoourfeet.Welookedatoneanotherinfearfulconfusion.Thenaviolentexplosionshookthegroundbeneathuswithaflashoforangeanddirtygreysmoke.Themortarshellhadstruckthegroundmorethanahundredmetresaway,atthefaredgeofthecompound,buttheairnearuswasalreadyfilthywithitssmellandsmoke.Thenasecondshellburst,andathird,andweranforthecave-mouthandflungourselvesintothesquirmingoctopusofmenwhowerethereaheadofus.Arms,legs,andheadscrushedinononeanotheraswehunkereddowninterrorwhilethemortarstoreuptherockygroundoutsideasifitwaspapier-mache.
Itwasbad,anditgotworseeverydayafterthat.Whentheattackwasover,wesearchedamongtheblackenedstippleandcraterofthecompound.Twomenweredead.OneofthemwasKareem,themanwhosebrokenforearmI’dsetonthenightbeforewe’dreachedthecamp.Twoothersweresobadlywoundedthatweweresuretheywoulddie.Manyofthesuppliesweredestroyed.Firstamongthemwerethedrumsoffuelwe’dusedforthegeneratorandthestoves.Thestovesandlampswerecriticallyimportantforheatingandcooking.Mostofthefuelwasgone,andallofourwaterreserves.Wesettocleaningupthedebris-mymedicalkitwasblackenedandscorchedbythefire-andconsolidatingtheremainingsuppliesinthegreatcave.Themenwerequiet.Theywereworriedandafraid.Theyhadreasonenough.
Whileothersbusiedthemselveswiththosetasks,Itendedtothewoundedmen.Onemanhadlostafootandapartofhislegbelowtheknee.Therewerefragmentsofshrapnelinhisneckandupperarm.Hewaseighteenyearsold.He’djoinedtheunitwithhiselderbrothersixmonthsbeforewearrived.HisbrotherhadbeenkilledduringanattackonaRussianoutpostnearKandahar.Theboywasdying.Ipulledthemetalpiecesfromhisbodywithlongstainlesssteeltweezersandapairoflong-nosedpliersIpilferedfromthemechanic’skit.
TherewasnothingsubstantialthatIcoulddoforthesavagedleg.Icleanedthewound,andtriedtoremoveasmuchoftheshatteredboneasIcouldwrenchfreewiththepliers.Hisscreamssettledonmyskininanoilysweat,andIshiveredwitheverygustoffrostywind.Iputsuturesintotheraggedfleshwhereclean,hardskinwouldsupportthem,buttherewasnowaytoclosethegapovercompletely.Onethickchunkofboneprotrudedfromthelumpymeat.ItoccurredtomethatIshouldtakeasaw,andhackthelongboneofftomakeaneatwoundofthestump,butIwasn’tsureifthatwastherightprocedure.Iwasn’tsurethatitwouldn’tmakethewoundworsethanitwas.Iwasn’tsure…Andthere’sonlysomuchscreamingyoucanbringyourselftocausewhenyou’renotsurewhatyou’redoing.Intheend,Ismotheredthewoundinantibioticpowderandwrappeditinnon-adhesivegauze.
Thesecondwoundedmanhadtakenablastinthefaceandthroat.
Hiseyesweredestroyed,andmostofthenoseandmouthweregone.Insomeways,heresembledRanjit’slepers,buthiswoundsweresorawandbloody,andtheteethweresosmashed,thatRanjit’sdisfigurementsseemedbenignincomparison.Itookthemetalpiecesfromhiseyesandhisscalpandhisthroat.Thewoundsathisthroatwerebad,andalthoughhewasbreathingfairlyevenly,myguesswasthathisconditionwouldworsen.Afterdressinghiswounds,Igavebothmenashotofpenicillinandanampouleofmorphine.
Mybiggestproblemwasblood,andtheneedtoreplacewhatthewoundedmenhadlost.NotoneofthemujaheddinfightersI’daskedduringthelastweekshadknownhisownoranyoneelse’sbloodtype.Thusitwasimpossibleformetoblood-matchthemen,ortobuildupabankofdonors.Becausemyownbloodtypewas+O,whichisknownastheuniversaldonortype,mybodywastheonlysourceofbloodfortransfusions,andIwasthewalkingbloodbankforthewholecombatunit.
Typically,adonorprovidesabouthalfalitreofbloodinasession.Thebodyholdsaboutsixlitres,sothebloodlostindonationamountstolessthanone-tenthofthebody’ssupply.Iputalittlemorethanhalfalitreintoeachofthewoundedmen,rigginguptheintravenousdripsthatKhaderhadbroughtwithhimaspartofhissmuggledcargo.IwonderedwhethertheequipmenthadcomefromRanjitandhislepersasItappedmyveinsandthoseofthewoundedfighterswithneedlesthatwerestoredinloosecontainersratherthansealedpackets.Thetransfusionstooknearly20percentofmyblood.Itwastoomuch.Ifeltdizzyandfaintlynauseous,unsureiftheywererealsymptomsorsimplytheslitheringtricksofmyfear.IknewthatIwouldn’tbeabletogivemorebloodforsometime,andthehopelessnessofthesituation-mineandtheirs-crushedmychestwithaflushandspasmofanguish.
Itwasdirty,frighteningwork,andIwasn’ttrainedforit.Thefirst-aidcoursethatI’dcompletedasayoungmanhadbeencomprehensive,butithadn’tcoveredcombatinjuries.AndtheworkI’ddoneatmyclinicintheslumwaslittlehelpinthosemountains.Beyondthat,Iwasrunningoninstinct-thesameinstincttohelpandhealthathadcompelledmetosaveoverdosedheroinaddictsinmyowncity,alifetimebefore.Itwas,ofcourse,ingreatpartasecretwish-likeKhaled,withtheviciousmadmanHabib-tobehelpedandsavedandhealedmyself.
Andthoughitwasn’tmuch,anditwasn’tenough,itwasallIhad.SoIdidmybest,tryingnottovomitorcryorshowmyfear,andthenIwashedmyhandsinthesnow.
WhenNazeerwassufficientlyrecovered,heinsistedonburyingAbdelKhaderKhanwiththestrictestadherencetoritual.Hedidthatbeforeheateamealorevendrankaglassofwater.IwatchedasKhaled,Mahmoud,andNazeercleanedthemselves,prayedtogether,andthenpreparedKhaderbhai’sbodyforburial.Hisgreen-and-whitestandardwaslost,butoneofthemujaheddinprovidedhisownflagasashroud.Onasimplewhitebackground,itcarriedthephrase:
Laillahaill’_AllahThereisnogodbutGodMahmoudMelbaaf,theIranianwho’dbeenwithussincetheKarachitaxiride,wassotenderanddevotedandlovinginhisministrationsthatmyeyeswentagainandagaintohiscalm,strongfaceasheworkedandprayed.Ifhe’dbeenburyinghisownchild,hecouldn’thavebeenmoregentleorclement,anditwasfromthosemomentsduringtheburialthatIbegantocherishhimasafriend.
IcaughtNazeer’seyeattheendoftheceremony,andatonceIdroppedmyfacetostareatthefrozengroundbesidemyboots.Hewasinawildernessofgrievingandsorrowingshame.He’dlivedtoprotectandserveKhaderKhan.ButtheKhanwasdead,andhewasalive.Worsethanthat,hewasn’tevenwounded.Hisownlife,themerefactofhisexistenceintheworld,seemedlikeabetrayal.Everyheartbeatwasanewactoftreachery.Andthatgrief,andhisexhaustion,tooksuchatollonhimthathewasquiteseriouslyill.Helookedasmuchastenkiloslighter.Hischeekswerehollow,andtherewereblacktroughsbeneathhiseyes.Hislipswerecrackedandpeeling.Hishandsandfeetworriedme.I’dexaminedthem,andIknewthatthecolourandwarmthhadn’tfullyreturnedtothem.Ithoughthemight’vesufferedfrostbiteinhiscrawlthroughthesnow.
Therewas,infact,ataskthatdidgivehislifepurposeatthattime,ifnotmeaning,butIdidn’tknowthatthen.Khaderbhaihadgivenalastinstruction,alastdutytoperform,intheeventofhisdeathduringthemission.He’dnamedaman,andorderedNazeertokillhim.Nazeerwasfollowingthatinstructioneventhen,simplybystayingalivelongenoughtocarryoutthemurder.Itwaswhatsustainedhim,andhiswholelifehadshrunktothatforlornobsession.Knowingnothingofthatthen,asthecolddaysafterKhader’sburialbecamecolderweeks,Iworriedconstantlyforthetough,loyalAfghan’ssanity.
KhaledAnsariwaschangedbyKhader’sdeathinwaysthatwerelessobviousbutequallyprofound.Wheremanyofuswereshockedintoadull,denseattentiontoroutines,Khaledbecamesharperandmoreener-getic.WhereIoftenfoundmyselfadriftinstunned,heartbroken,bittersweetmeditationsonthemanwe’dlovedandlost,Khaledtookonnewjobsalmosteveryday,andneverlosthisfocus.Asaveteranofseveralwars,heassumedKhaderbhai’sroleofadvisertothemujaheddincommanderSuleimanShahbadi.Inallhisdeliberations,thePalestinianwasintenseandtirelessandjudicious,tothepointofbeingsolemn.Theyweren’tnewqualitiesforKhaled-hewaseveradour,ferventman-buttherewasinhim,afterKhader’sdeath,ahopefulnessandawilltowinthatI’dneverseenbefore.Andheprayed.FromthedayweburiedtheKhan,Khaledwasthefirsttocallthementoprayer,andthelasttolifthiskneesfromthefrozenstone.
SuleimanShahbadi,themostseniorAfghanleftinourgroup-thereweretwentyofus,includingthewounded-wasaformercommunityleader,orKandeedar,fromaclutchofvillagesnearGhazni,two-thirdsofthewaytoKabul.Hewasfifty-twoyearsold,andafive-yearveteranofthewar.Hewasexperiencedinallformsofcombat,fromsiegetoguerrillaskirmishtopitchedbattle.AhmedShahMassoud,theunofficialleaderofthenationwidewartoexpeltheRussians,hadpersonallyappointedSuleimantosetupthesoutherncommandsnearKandahar.Allthemeninourethnicallyeclecticunitfeltsuchawe-struckadmirationforMassoudthatitwasn’ttoostrongtocallitakindoflove.AndbecauseSuleiman’scommissionhadcomedirectlyfromMassoud,theLionofthePanjsher,themengavehimanequallyreverentialrespect.
WhenNazeerwaswellenoughtogiveafullreport,justthreedaysafterwe’dfoundhiminthesnow,SuleimanShahbadicalledameeting.Hewasashortmanwithbighandsandfeet,andasorrowfulexpression.Sevenlinesandridgeslikeplanter’sfurrowscreasedhisbroad,highbrow.Athicklycoiledwhiteturbancoveredhisbaldhead.Thedark,greybeardwastrimmedaroundthemouth,andcutshortbeneaththejaw.Hisearswereslightlypointed-aneffectthatwasexaggeratedagainstthewhiteturban-andthatpuckishtouchcombinedwithhiswidemouthtohintatthecheekyhumourthatoncemightVebeenhis.Butthen,onthemountain,hisfacewasdominatedbytheexpressioninhiseyes.Theyweretheeyesofanunutterablesadness;asadnesswitheredandemptiedoftears.Itwasanexpressionthatengagedoursympathyyetpreventedusfrombefriendinghim.Forallthathewasawise,brave,andkindlyman,thatsadnesswassodeepinhimthatnomanriskeditstouch.Withfoursentriesattheirpostsaroundthecamp,andtwomenwounded,therewerefourteenofusgatheredinthecavetohearSuleimanspeak.Itwasextremelycold-atorbelowzero-andwesattogethertoshareourwarmth.
IwishedthatI’dbeenmoreassiduousinmystudyofDariandPashtoduringthelongwaitinQuetta.Menspokeinbothlanguagesatthatmeeting,andeveryoneafterit.MahmoudMelbaaftranslatedtheDariintoArabicforKhaled,whotransformedtheArabicintoEnglish,leaningfirsttohislefttolistentoMahmoud,andthenleaningrightashewhisperedtome.
Itwasalong,slowprocess,andIwasamazedandhumbledthatthemenwaitedpatientlyforeveryexchangetobetranslatedforme.ThepopularEuropeanandAmericancaricatureofAfghansaswild,bloodthirstymen-adescriptionthatdelightedAfghansthemselvesendlesslywhentheyheardit-wascontradictedbyeverydirectcontactIhadwiththem.Facetoface,Afghanmenweregenerous,friendly,honest,andscrupulouslycourteoustome.Ididn’tsayanythingatthatfirstmeeting,oratanyofthosethatfollowed,butstillthemenincludedmeineverywordtheyshared.
Nazeer’sreportontheattackthathadkilledourKhanwasalarming.Khaderhadleftthecampwithtwenty-sixmen,andalltheridingandpackhorses,onwhatshould’vebeenasafe-passageroutetothevillageofhisbirth.Ontheseconddayofthemarch,stillafulldayandnightfromKhaderbhai’svillage,theywereforcedtostopforwhattheythoughtwasaroutinetributeexchangewithalocalclanleader.
TherewerehardquestionsaskedaboutHabibAbdurRahmanatthemeeting.Inthetwomonthssincehe’dleftus,afterkillingpoor,unconsciousSiddiqi,Habibhadinstitutedaone-manwarofterrorinwhatwasforhimanewareaofoperations-theShar-iSafamountainrange.He’dtorturedaRussianofficertodeath.
He’ddealtsimilarjustice,ashesawit,toAfghanarmymen,andevenmujaheddinfighterswhomhejudgedtobelessthanfullycommittedtothecause.Thehorrorsofthosetortureshadsucceededinnailingterrortoeveryoneintheregion.Itwassaidthathewasaghost,ortheShaitaan,theGreatSatanhimself,cometorendmen’sbodiesandpeelthemasksoftheirhumanfacesbackfromtheirveryskulls.Whathadbeenarelativelyquietcorridorbetweenthewarzoneswassuddenlyaturmoilofangry,terrifiedsoldiersandotherfighters,allpledgedtofindandkillthedemonHabib.
RealisingthathewasinatrapdesignedtocaptureHabib,andthatthemensurroundinghimwerehostiletohiscause,Khaderbhaitriedtoleavepeacefully.Hesurrenderedfourhorsesasatribute,andgatheredhismen.Theywerealmostfreeoftheenemyhighgroundwhenthefirstshotsrattledintothelittlecanyon.Thebattleragedforhalfanhour.Whenitwasover,NazeercountedeighteenbodiesfromKhader’scolumn.Someofthemhadbeenkilledastheylaywounded.Theirthroatshadbeencut.
NazeerandAhmedZadehhadonlysurvivedbecausetheywerecrushedinatangleofbodies,ofhorsesandmen,andappearedtobedead.
Onehorsehadsurvivedtheencounterwithaseriouswound.Nazeerrousedtheanimal,andstrappedKhader’sdeadbodyandAhmed’sdyingonetoitsback.Thehorsetrudgedthroughthesnowforadayandhalfanightbeforeitcrumpled,collapsed,anddiedalmostthreekilometresfromourcamp.Nazeerthendraggedbothbodiesthroughthesnowuntilwefoundhim.HehadnoideawhathadhappenedtothefivemenwhowerenotaccountedforfromKhader’scolumn.Theymight’veescaped,hethought,ortheymight’vebeencaptured.Onethingwascertain:amongtheenemydead,NazeerhadseenAfghanarmyuniformsandsomenewRussianequipment.
SuleimanandKhaledAnsariassumedthatthemortarattackonourpositionwaslinkedtothebattlethathadclaimedAbdelKhader’slife.TheyguessedthattheAfghanarmyunithadregroupedand,perhapsfollowingNazeer’strail,oractingoninformationgougedfromprisoners,they’dlaunchedthemortarattack.Suleimanassumedthattherewouldbemoreattacks,buthedoubtedthattheywouldlaunchafullfrontalassaultontheposition.Suchanattackwouldcostmanylives,andmightn’tsucceed.IfRussiansoldierssupportedtheAfghanarmyunits,however,theremightbehelicopterattacksassoonastheskywasclearenough.Eitherway,wewouldlosemen.Eventually,wemightlosethehighgroundaltogether.
Aftermuchdiscussionofthelimitedoptionsopentous,Suleimandecidedtolaunchtwocounterattackswithmortarunitsofourown.Tothatend,weneededreliableinformationabouttheenemypositionsandtheirrelativestrength.Hebegantobriefafit,youngHazarbuznomadnamedJalalaadforthescoutingmission,butthenhefroze,staringatthemouthofthecave.Weallturnedandgapedinsurpriseatthewild,raggedsilhouetteofamanintheovalframeoflightattheopeningofthecave.ItwasHabib.He’dslippedintothecampunseenbythesentries-anenigmaticallydifficulttask-andhestoodwithus,twoshortstepsaway.I’mgladtosayIwasn’ttheonlyonewhoreachedforaweapon.
KhaledrushedforwardwithsuchawideandheartfeltsmilethatIresentedit,andresentedHabibmoreforinspiringit.HebroughtthemadmanintothecaveandsathimdownbesidethestartledSuleiman.Andthen,withperfectcalmandclarity,Habibbegantospeak.
He’dseentheenemypositions,hesaid,andheknewtheirstrength.He’dwatchedthemortarattackonourcamp,andthenhe’dcreptdowntotheircamps,soclosethathe’dheardthemdecidewhattoeatforlunch.Hecouldguideustonewvantagepointswherewecouldfiremortarsintotheircamps,andkillthem.Thosewhodidn’tdieoutright,hewanteditunderstood,belongedtohim.Thatwashisprice.
ThemendebatedHabib’sproposal,speakingopenlyinfrontofhim.Itworriedsomethatwewereputtingourselvesinthehandsoftheverylunaticwhosemonstroustortureshadbroughtthewartoourcave.Itwasbadlucktolinkourselvestohisevil,thosemensaid;badmoralsandbadluck.ItworriedothersthatwewouldkillsomanyAfghanarmyregulars.
OneoftheseeminglybizarrecontradictionsofthewarwasthatAfghanmetAfghanwithrealreluctance,andsincerelyregrettedeverydeath.TherewassuchalonghistoryofdivisionandconflictbetweentheclansandethnicdivisionsinAfghanistanthatnoman,withtheexceptionofHabib,trulyhatedtheAfghanswhofoughtonthesideoftheRussians.Realhatred,whereitexistedatall,wasreservedfortheAfghanversionoftheKGB,knownastheKHAD.TheAfghantraitorNajibullah,whoeventuallyseizedpowerandappointedhimselfrulerofthecountry,headedthatinfamouspoliceforceforyears,andwasresponsibleformanyofitsunspeakabletortures.Therewasn’taresistancefighterinthecountrywhodidn’tdreamofdraggingonaropeandhoistinghimintotheairbyhisneck.ThesoldiersandeventheofficersoftheAfghanarmy,however,wereadifferentmatter:theywerekinsmen,manyofthemconscripts,doingwhattheyhadtodoinordertosurvive.Andfortheirpart,theAfghanregularsoftensentvitalinformationconcerningRussiantroopmovementsorbombardmentstomujaheddinfighters.Infact,thewarcouldneverbewonwithouttheirsecrethelp.AndasurprisemortarattackonthetwoAfghanarmypositions,identifiedbyHabib,wouldcostmanyAfghanlives.Thelongdiscussionendedwithadecisiontofight.Oursituationwasjudgedtobesoperilousthatwehadnochoicebuttocounter-attackanddrivetheenemyfromthemountain.
Theplanwasgood,anditshould’veworked,butlikesomuchelseinthatwaritbroughtonlychaosanddeath.Foursentriesremainedtoguardthecamp,andIstayedbehindaswelltocareforthewounded.Thefourteenmenofthestrikeforceweredividedintotwoteams.KhaledandHabibledthefirstteam;
Suleimanledthesecond.FollowingHabib’sdirections,theysetuptheirmortarsaboutakilometreawayfromtheenemycamps-adistancethatwaswellinsidethemaximumeffectiverange.Thebombardmentcommencedjustafterdawn,andcontinuedforhalfanhour.ThestriketeamsfoundeightAfghansoldierswhentheyenteredtheruinedcamps.Notallofthemweredead.Habibwenttoworkonthesurvivors.Sickenedbywhatthey’dagreedtolethimdo,ourmenreturnedtothecamp,hopingnevertoseethemadmanagain.
Lessthanonehouraftertheirreturn,acounter-bombardmentrainedonourcompoundwithwhining,whistling,thumpingexplosions.Asthedeadlyattacksubsided,wecrawledfromourhidingplacestohearastrange,vibratinghum.Khaledwasafewmetresawayfromme.Isawthefearraspacrosshisscarredface.
Hebegantoruntowardthesmallcoverprovidedbycleftsintherockwallsoppositethecaves.Hewasshoutingandwavingformetojoinhim.ItookasteptowardshimandthenfrozeasaRussianhelicopterroselikesomehuge,monstrousinsectovertherimofthecompound.It’simpossibletodescribehowimmenseandpredatorythosemachinesseemwhenyou’reunderfirefromthem.
Themonsterfillstheeyeandthemind,andforasecondortwothereseemstobenothingelseintheworldbutthemetalandthenoiseandtheterror.
Intheinstantthatitappeared,itfiredonusandwheeledawaylikeafalconfallingtothekill.Tworocketsscorchedtheairastheystreakedtowardthecaves.Theytravelledwithincrediblespeed,muchfasterthanmyeyescouldfollow.Iswungroundtoseeonerocketsmashintothestonecliffabovetheentrancetothecavecomplexandexplodewithashowerofsmoke,flame,rock,andmetalfragments.Immediatelyafterit,thesecondrocketenteredthecave-mouthandexploded.
Theshockwavethathitmewasaphysicalthing,likestandingontheedgeofaswimmingpoolandhavingsomeonepushmeinwiththeflatofhishands.Islammedontomybackandgasped,chokingforair,withthewindknockedoutofme.Icouldseetheentrancetothecaves.
Thewoundedmenwereinthere.Othermenwerehidinginthere.
Burstingthroughtheblacksmokeandflames,menbeganrunningorcrawlingoutofthecave.OneofthemenwasaPashtuntradernamedAlef.He’dbeenafavouriteofKhaderbhai’sforhisjokesandirreverentsatiresofpompousmullahsandlocalpoliticalfigures.Hisbackwasblownoutfromtheheadtothethighs.Hisclotheswereonfire.Theyburnedandsmoulderedaroundthebare,eruptedmeatofhisback.Bones-ahipboneandashoulderblade-wereclearlyvisible,andmovingintheopenwoundashecrawled.
Hewasscreamingoutforhelp.Igrittedmyteethtomaketheruntohim,butthehelicopterappearedagain.Itroaredpastusatgreatspeed,twiceturningintightcirclestoattackusfromnewanglesinpassingrushes.Thenithoveredwitharrogant,fearlessnonchalanceneartheedgeoftheplateauthathadbeenourhaven.
JustasIstartedtomoveforwarditfiredtwomorerocketsatthecavesandthenanothertwo.Thesalvolitupthewholeinteriorofthecavernforaninstant,andmeltedthesnowwitharollingfireballofflamesandwhite-hotmetalpieces.Onefragmentlandedonlyanarm’sreachawayfromme.Itcrashedintothesnowandsizzledwithablisteringhissforseveralseconds.
IcrawledawayafterKhaled,andsqueezedmybodyintothenarrowcleftintherocks.
Thegunshipopenedupwithmachineguns,rakingtheopengroundandchoppingupthebodiesofthewoundedmenwhowereexposedthere.ThenIheardanothergunwithadifferenttone,andIrealisedthatoneofourmenwasfiringbackatthehelicopter.
ItwasthesoundofaPK,oneofourRussianmachineguns,returningfire.Itwasquicklyfollowedbyasecond,longchunchun-chun-_chunburstfromanotherPK.Twoofourmenwerefiringatthehelicopter.Myonlyinstincthadbeentohidemyselffromtheruthlesslyefficientkillingmachine,buttheynotonlyexposedthemselvestothebeast,theyactuallychallengeditanddrewitsfire.
Therewasashoutfromsomewherebehindmeandthenarocketfizzedpastmyhideawaycleftinthestonetowardthechopper.Itwasarocket,firedfromanAK-74byoneofourmen.Itmissedthehelicopter,andsodidthenexttworockets,butthereturnfirefromourmenwasfindingitstarget,andconvincedthepilottocuthislossesandleave.
Agreatshoutwentupfromourmen:AllahhuAkbar!AllahhuAkbar!AllahhuAkbar!KhaledandIeasedourwayoutofthewedgeofstonetofindfourmenrushingforwardandfiringattheaircraft.Athinstreamofrustyblacksmokedribbledfromapointabouttwothirdsofthewayalongthelengthofthemachineasitplungedawayfromus,tothemetalscreechofawildlyracingengine.
Theyoungmanwho’dopenedupthecounterattackwasJalalaad,theHazarbuznomad.HehandedtheheavyPKofftoafriend,snatchedupanAK-74withatapeddoublemagazine,andboundedawayinsearchofenemysoldierswhomightVecreptcloseundercoverofthechopper.Twootheryoungmenranafterhim,slippingandjumpingdownthesnow-coveredslope.
Wesearchedthecompoundforsurvivors.Weweretwentymenatthestartoftheattack,includingourtwowounded.Afterit,wewereeleven:Jalalaadandthetwoyoungmen,JumaandHanif,who’dleftwithhimtofindanyAfghanregularsorRussianswithinourdefensiveperimeter;Khaled;Nazeer;averyyoungfighternamedAla-ud-Din;threewoundedmen;Suleiman;andmyself.We’dlostninemen-onemorethantheeightAfghanarmymenwe’dkilledinourmortarattackonthem.
Ourwoundedwereinabadway.Onemanwassobadlyburnedthathisfingershadfusedtogetherlikeacrab’sclaws,andhisfacewasn’trecognisablyhuman.Hewasbreathingthroughaholeintheredskinofhisface.Itmight’vebeenhismouth,thattremblingholeinhisface,buttherewasnowaytobesure.Thebreathswerelaboured,scrapingsoundsthatfadedandweakenedasIlistenedtothem.Igavehimmorphine,andmovedontothenextman.HewasafarmerfromGhazninamedZaherRasul.He’dtakentobringingmegreenteawheneverIreadabookormadenotesinmyjournal.Hewasakindly,self-effacingforty-twoyearold-aseniormaninacountrywheretheaveragelifespanformenwasforty-five.Hisarmwasmissingbelowtheshoulder.Thesameprojectile,whateveritwas,thathadseveredhisarm,hadtornhimopenalonghisbody,fromthechesttothehip,ontherighthandside.Therewasnowayofknowingwhatpiecesofmetalorstonemightbelodgedinsidehiswounds.Hewasprayingarepetitivezikkir:
GodisgreatGodforgivemeGodismercifulGodforgivemeMahmoudMelbaafwasholdingatourniquetontheraggedstumpofshoulderthatremained.Whenhereleasedit,thebloodspatteredusinstrongwarmspurts.Mahmoudpulledthetourniquettightoncemore.Ilookedintohiseyes.
“Artery,”Isaid,crushedbythetaskthatconfrontedme.
“Yes.Underhisarm.Didyousee?”
“Yeah.It’sgottabestitcheduporclampedorsomething.We’vegottastoptheblood.He’slosttoomuchalready.”
Theblackened,ash-coveredremainsofthemedicalkitweregroupedonapieceofcanvasinfrontofmyknees.Ifoundasutureneedle,arustymechanic’spliers,andsomesilkthread.
Freezingcoldonthesnowyground,andwithmybarehandscramped,Iranstitchesintotheartery,andtheflesh,andthewholearea,desperatetolockoffthegushofhot,redblood.Thethreadsnaggedseveraltimes.Mystiffenedfingerstrembled.Themanwasawakeandaware,andinterriblepain.Hescreamedandhowledintermittently,butreturnedalwaystohisprayer.
Myeyeswerefullofsweat,despitetheshiveringcold,whenInoddedtoMahmoudtoreleasethetourniquet.Bloodoozedthroughthestitches.Itwasamuchslowerflow,butIknewthetricklewouldstillkillhiminthelongrun.Ibegantopackwadsofbandageintothewoundandthentowindonapressuredressing,butMahmoud’sbloodyhandsseizedmywristsinapowerfulgrip.IlookeduptoseethatZaherRasulhadstoppedprayingandstoppedbleeding.Hewasdead.
Iwasbreathinghard.Itwasthekindofbreathingthatdoesmoreharmthangood.IsuddenlyrealisedthatIhadn’teatenfortoomanyhours,andIwasveryhungry.Withthatthought-hunger,food-Ifeltsickforthefirsttime.Ifeltthesweatywaveofnauseasurgeoverme,andIshookmyheadfreeofit.
Whenwereturnedourattentiontotheburnedmanwefoundthathe,too,hadsuccumbed.Icoveredthestillbodywithacanvascamouflagedrop-sheet.Mylastglimpseofhisscorched,featureless,meltedfacebecameaprayerofthanks.Oneoftheagonisingtruthsforabattlemedicisthatyouprayashardandalmostasoftenformentodieasyouprayforthemtolive.ThethirdwoundedmanwasMahmoudMelbaafhimself.Thereweretinygrey-blackfragmentsofmetalandwhatseemedtobemeltedplasticinhisback,hisneck,andthebackofhishead.
Fortunately,thesprayofthathotmaterialhadonlypenetratedtheupperlayersofhisskin,muchlikesplinters.Nevertheless,itwastheworkofanhourtoridhimofthem.Iwashedthewoundsandappliedantibioticpowder,dressingthemwhereveritwaspossible.
Wecheckedoursuppliesandreserves.We’dhadtwogoatsatthestartoftheattack.Oneofthemhadrunoff,andweneversighteditagain.Theotherwasfoundcoweringinablindalcoveformedbetweenhigh,rockyescarpments.Thatgoatwasouronlyfood.Theflourhadburnedtosootwiththericeandgheeandsugar.Thefuelreserveswerecompletelyexhausted.Thestainlesssteelmedicalinstrumentshadsufferedadirecthit,andmostofthemhaddeformedintouselesslumpsofmetal.Iscrapedthroughthewreckagetoretrievesomeantibiotics,disinfectants,ointments,bandages,sutureneedles,thread,syringes,andmorphineampoules.Wehadammunition,andsomemedicines,andwecouldmeltthesnowtomakewater,butthelackoffoodwasaveryseriousconcern.
Wewereninemen.SuleimanandKhaleddecidedthatwehadtoleavethecamp.Therewasacaveonanothermountain,abouttwelvehours’marchawaytotheeast,whichtheyhopedmightgiveusadequateprotectionfromattack.TheRussiansweresuretohaveanotherhelicopterintheairwithinafewhoursatmost.
Groundforceswouldn’tbefarbehind.
“Everymanfilltwocanteenswithsnow,andkeeptheminsidehisclothes,nexttohisbody,onthemarch,”Khaledsaidtome,translatingSuleiman’sorders.“Wecarryweapons,ammunition,medicines,blankets,somefuel,somewood,andthegoat.Nothingelse.Let’sgo!”
Weleftonthemarchwithemptystomachs,andthatstatedefinedusforthenextfourweeksaswehunkereddowninthenewmountaincave.OneofJalalaad’syoungfriends,Hanif,hadbeenahalalbutcherinhishomevillage.Heslaughtered,skinned,gutted,andquarteredthegoatwhenwearrived.Wepreparedafirewithwoodthatwe’dcarriedfromtheruinedcamp,andasprinkleofspiritfromoneofthelamps.Themeatwascooked-everylastmorsel,exceptfortheparts,suchasthelegsoftheanimalbelowthekneejoint,whichwereregardedasharam,orforbiddenforMuslimstoeat.Thecarefullycookedmeatwasthenrationedintosmalldailyshares.Westoredthebulkofthecookedfleshinanimprovisedrefrigeratorscoopedoutoftheiceandsnow.Andthen,forfourweeks,wenibbledatthedrymeatandcringedinwardlyashungertwistedusaroundthecravingformore.
Itwasanexpressionofourdisciplineandgood-naturedsupportforoneanotherthatthemeatfromonegoatkeptninemenaliveforfourweeks.Wetriedmanytimestoslipawayfromthecampandreachoneoftheneighbouringkhelstosecuresomeextrafood.
Butallthelocalvillageswereoccupiedbyenemytroops,andtheentiremountainrangewassurroundedbypatrolsofAfghanarmyunitsledbyRussians.Habib’stortureshadcombinedwiththedamagewe’ddonetothehelicoptertorouseafuriousdeterminationintheRussiansandAfghanregulars.Ononeforagingmission,ourscoutsheardanannouncementechoingthroughthenearestvalley.TheRussianshadattachedaloudspeakertoamilitaryjeep.AnAfghan,speakinginPashto,describedusasbanditsandcriminals,andsaidthataspecialtaskforcehadbeensetuptocaptureus.They’dputarewardonourheads.Ourscoutswantedtoshootatthevehicle,buttheythoughtitmightbeatrapdesignedtodrawusoutofhiding.
Theyletitpass,andthewordsofthehuntersechoedinthesheer,stonecanyonslikethehowlofprowlingwolves.
Apparentlyactingonfalseinformation-orperhapsfollowingthetrailofHabib’sbloodyexecutions-theRussians,workingfromallthesurroundingvillages,concentratedtheirsearchesonanothermountainrangetothenorthofus.Forsolongasweremainedinourremotecave,weseemedtobesafe.Sowewaited,trappedandhungeringandafraid,throughthefourcoldestweeksoftheyear.Wehid,creepingthroughshadowsinthedaylighthours,andhuddledtogetherwithoutlightorheatinthedarknesseverynight.Andslowly,oneice-edgedhouratatime,theknifeofwarwhittledthewishingandhopingawayuntilallthatwaslefttous,withinthehard,disconsolatewrapofourownarmsaroundourownshiveringbodies,wasthelonelywilltosurvive.
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CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Icouldn’tfacethelossofKhaderbhai,myfather-dream.I’dhelpedtoburyhim,forGod’ssake,withmyownhands.ButIdidn’tgrieve,andIdidn’tmournhim.Therewasn’tenoughtruthinmeforthatkindofsorrowingbecausemyheartwouldn’tbelievehimdead.I’dlovedhimtoomuch,itseemedtomeinthatwinterofwar,forhimtosimplybegone,tobedead.Ifsomuchlovecouldvanishintotheearthandspeaknomore,smilenomore,thenlovewasnothing.AndIwouldn’tbelievethat.Iwassuretherehadtobeapay-off,somehow,andIkeptwaitingforit.Ididn’tknowthen,asIdonow,thatlove’saone-waystreet.Love,likerespect,isn’tsomethingyouget;it’ssomethingyougive.Butnotknowingthatinthosebitterweeks,notthinkingthat,Iturnedfromtheholeinmylifewheresomuchlovinghopehadbeen,andIrefusedtofeelthelongingortheloss.Icringedwithinthebleak,concealingcamouflageofsnowandshadowedstone.Ichewedtheleatheredfragmentsofgoat’smeatlefttous.Andeachminutecrammedwithheartbeatsandhungerdraggedmefurtherfromthegrievingandthetruth.
Eventually,ofcourse,weexhaustedthesupplyofmeat,andameetingwascalledtodiscussouroptions.JalalaadandtheyoungerAfghanswantedtomakearunforit:tofightourwaythroughenemylines,andstrikeoutforthedesertregionofZabulprovince,closetothePakistanborder.SuleimanandKhaledreluctantlyagreedthattherewasnootheroption,buttheywantedclearintelligenceoftheenemydispositionbeforechoosingwheretolaunchabreakoutattack.Tothatend,SuleimansentyoungHanifonascoutingmissionthatwouldtakehimonasweepingcurvefromthesouth-westtothenorthandsouth-eastofourposition.Heorderedtheyoungmantoreturnwithintwentyfourhours,andtotravelonlyatnight.
Itwasalong,cold,hungrywaitforHaniftoreturn.Weweredrinkingwater,butthatonlystavedoffthetormentforafewminutes,andleftusevenhungrier.Twenty-fourhoursstretchedtotwodays,andthenintoathird,withnosignofhim.Onthemorningofthethirdday,weacceptedthatHanifwasdeadorcaptured.
Juma,acameleerfromthetinyTajikenclaveinthesouth-westofAfghanistannearIran,volunteeredtosearchforhim.Hewasadark,thin-facedmanwithahawk-likenoseandathicklyemotivemouth.HewasclosetoHanifandJalalaad-theclosenessthatmeninwarsandprisonsfind,againsttheireveryexpectation,andrarelyexpressinwordsorgestures.
Juma’sTajikclansofcameleersweretraditionalrivalsoftheMohmandHazarbuzpeopleofHanifandJalalaadinthenomadictransportoftradegoods.ThecompetitionbetweenthegroupshadbecomeintenseasAfghanistanrapidlymodernised.In1920,fullyoneineverythreeAfghanswasanomad.Justtwogenerationslater,by1970,only2percentofthepeoplewerenomads.Rivalsthoughtheywere,thethreeyoungmenhadbeenthrownintocloseco-operationwithoneanotherbythewar,andthey’dbecomeinseparablefriends.Theirfriendshiphaddevelopedintheinsidiouslydullmonthsthattroughedbetweenthepeaksoffighting,andwastestedmanytimesincombat.Intheirmostsuccessfulbattle,they’dusedlandminesandgrenadestodestroyaRussiantank.Eachofthemwore,onaleatherthongaroundhisneck,asmallpieceofmetaltakenfromthetankasasouvenir.
WhenJumadeclaredthathewouldsearchforHanif,weallknewthatwecouldn’tpreventhimfromdoingit.Withawearysigh,Suleimanagreedtolethimgo.Refusingtowaituntilnightfall,Jumashoulderedhisweaponandcreptfromthecampatonce.He’dgonewithoutfoodforthreedays,justaswehad,butthesmilethathesentbacktoJalalaad,ashelookedoverhisshoulderforthelasttime,wasbrightwithstrengthandcourage.Wewatchedhimleave,watchedhisthin,retreatingshadowsweepthesundialofthesnowyslopesbeneathus.
Hungerexaggeratedthecold.Itwasalong,hardwinter,withsnowfallingonthemountainsarounduseveryotherday.Thetemperatureflutteredabovezeroduringthedaylighthours,butsankintoicy,teeth-chatteringsub-zerolevelsfromduskuntilwellafterdawn.Myhandsandfeetwereconstantlycold;achinglycold.Theskinonmyfacewaswooden,andasrivenwithcracksasthefeetofthefarmersinPrabaker’svillage.Wepissedonourhands,tofightofftheachingstingofthecold,andithelpedtobringfeelingbacktothemmomentarily.Butweweresocoldthattakingapisswasaseriousissue.Firsttherewasthedreadinspiredbyhavingtoopenourclothesatall,andthentherewasthechillthatfollowedthereleaseofabladderofwarmfluid.Losingthatwarmthcausedthebodytemperaturetodropquickly,andwealwaysputitoffuntilthelastmoment
Jumafailedtoreturnthatnight.Atmidnight,withhungerandfearproddingusawake,wealljumpedatalittlecrickleofsoundinthedarkness.Sevengunsaimedatthespot.Thenwegaspedasafaceloomedfromtheshadows,muchcloserthanwe’dexpected.ItwasHabib.
“Whatareyoudoing,mybrother?”Khaledaskedhimgently,inUrdu.“Yougaveusabigfright.”
“Theyarehere,”heansweredinarational,calmvoicethatseemedtorisefromanothermindoranotherplace,asifhewasamediumspeakinginatrance.Hisfacewasfilthy.Wewereallunwashedandbearded,butHabib’sfilthwassomethingsorepulsiveandthicklysmearedthatitwasshocking.Likepoisonpouringfromaninfectedwound,thefoulnessseemedtosqueezeoutwardthroughtheporesofhisskinfromsomefeculencedeepwithin.“Theyareeverywhere,allaroundyou.Andtheyarecominguptoheretogetyou,tokillyouall,whenmoremencome,tomorrow,orthedayafterthat.Soon.Theyknowwhereyouare.
Theywillkillyouall.Thereisonlyonewayoutofherenow.”
“Howdidyoufindushere,brother?”Khaledasked,hisvoiceascalmandremoteasHabib’s.
“Icamewithyou.Ihavealwaysbeennearyou.Didyounotseeme?”
“Myfriends,”Jalalaadasked,“JumaandHanif-didyouseethemanywhere?”
Habibdidn’treply.Jalalaadaskedthequestionagain,moreforcefully.
“Didyouseethem?WeretheyintheRussiancamp?Weretheycaptured?”
WelistenedinasilencethickwithourfearandthepoisonoussmellsofdecayedfleshthatclungtoHabib.Heseemedtobemeditating,orperhapslisteningtosomethingno-oneelsecouldhear.
“Tellme,bach-e-kaka,”Suleimanaskedgently,usingthefamiliartermfornephew,“whatdidyoumean,thereisonlyonewayoutofherenow?”
“Theyareeverywhere,”Habibanswered,hisfacedeformedbyitswide-mouthed,psychoticstare.MahmoudMelbaafwastranslatingforme,whisperingclosetomyear.“Theydon’thaveenoughmen.Theyhaveminedalltheeasiestwaysoutofthemountains.Thenorth,theeast,thewest,allmined.Onlythesouth-eastisclear,becausetheythinkyouwillnottrytoescapethatway.Theyleftthatwayclear,sotheycancomeupheretogetyou.”
“Wecan’tgooutthatway,”MahmoudwhisperedtomewhenHabibstoppedsuddenly.“TheRussians,theyholdthevalleysouth-eastofhere.ItistheirwaytoKandahar.Whentheycomeforus,theywillcomefromthatdirection.Ifwegothatway,wewillalldie,andtheyknowit.”
“Now,theyareinthesouth-east.Butfortomorrow,foroneday,theyareallonthefarsideofthemountain,inthenorth-west,”
Habibsaid.Hisvoicewasstillcalmandcomposed,buthisfacewasagargoyle’sleer,andthecontrastunnervedusall.“Onlyafewofthemstayheretomorrow.Onlyafewwillstay,whiletherestofthemputthelastminesonthenorth-westslopes,justafterdawn.Ifyourunatthem,attackthem,fightthemtomorrow,inthesouth-east,therewillonlybeafewofthem.Youcanbreakthroughandescape.Butonlytomorrow.”
“Howmanyaretheyaltogether?”Jalalaadasked.
“Sixty-eightmen.Theyhavemortars,rockets,andsixheavymachineguns.Therearetoomanyofthemforyoutosneakpastthematnight.”
“Butyousneakedpastthem,”Jalalaadinsisteddefiantly.
“Theycannotseeme,”Habibrepliedserenely.“Iaminvisibletothem.TheycannotseemeuntilIampushingmyknifeintotheirthroats.”
“That’sridiculous!”Jalalaadhissedathim.“Theyaresoldiers.
Youareasoldier.Ifyoucangetpastthem,wecandoit.”
“Didyourmenreturntoyou?”Habibaskedhim,turninghismaniacstareontheyoungfighterforthefirsttime.Jalalaadopenedhismouthtospeak,butthewordssankintothesmallheavingseaofhisheart.Hecasthiseyesdown,andshookhishead.“Couldyouenterthiscampwithoutbeingseenorheard,asIdid?Ifyoutrytogetpastthem,youwilldie,likeyourfriends.Youcannotgetpastthem.Icandoit,butyoucannot.”
“Butyouthinkwecanfightourwayoutofhere?”Khaledputthequestiontohimgently,quietly,butweallheardtheurgencyinit.
“Youcan.Itistheonlyway.Ihavebeeneverywhereonthismountain,andIhavebeensoclosetothemthatIcanhearthemscratchtheirskin.ThatisthereasonwhyIamhere.Icametotellyouhowtosaveyourselves.Butthereisapriceformyhelp.Alltheonesyoudonotkilltomorrow,theoneswhosurvive,theywillbemine.Youwillgivethemtome.”
“Yes,yes,”Suleimanagreedsoothingly.“Come,bach-e-kaka,telluswhatyouknow.Wewanttoshareyourknowledge.Sitwithus,andtelluswhatyouknow.Wehavenofood,sowecannotofferyouameal.I’msorry.”
“Thereisfood,”Habibinterrupted,pointingbeyondustotheshadowsattheedgeofourcamp.“Ismellfoodthere.”
Trueenough,therottingpiecesofthedeadgoat-theharamcutsfromtheanimal-layinalittleheapintheslushysnow.Coldasitwas,andeveninthesnow,thebitsofrawmeathadlongbeguntodecay.Wecouldn’tsmellthemfromthatdistance,butitseemedthatHabibcould.
Themadman’scommentprovokedalongdiscussionofthereligiousrightsandwrongsofeatingharamfood.Themenweren’trigidintheobservationoftheirfaith.Theyprayedeveryday,butnotinstrictadherencetothetimetableofthreesessions,ordainedbyShiaIslam,orthefivesessionsoftheSunniMuslims.Theyweregoodmenoffaith,ratherthanovertlyreligiousmen.
Nevertheless,inatimeofwar,andwiththegreatdangerswefaced,thelastpowertheywantedrangedagainstthemwasGod’s.
Theywereholywarriors,mujaheddin:menwhobelievedthattheywouldbecomemartyrsattheinstantthattheydiedinbattle,andthattheywereassuredaplaceintheheavens,wherebeautifulmaidenswouldattendthem.Theydidn’twanttopollutethemselveswithforbiddenfoodswhentheyweresoclosetothemartyr’srushforparadise.Itwasatributetotheirfaith,infact,thatthemerediscussionoftheharammeathadn’toccurreduntilwe’dhungeredforamonthandthenstarvedforfivedays.
Formypart,IconfessedtoMahmoudMelbaafthatI’dbeenthinkingaboutthediscardedmeatalmostconstantlyforthelastfewdays.Iwasn’taMuslim,andthemeatwasn’tforbiddentome.
ButI’dlivedsocloselywiththefighters,andforsomanypainfulweeks,thatI’dlinkedmyfatetotheirs.Iwouldneverhaveeatenanythingwhiletheyhungered.Iwantedtoeatthemeat,butonlyiftheyagreedandateitwithme.
Suleimandeliveredthedecisiveopiniononthematter.HeremindedthementhatwhileitwasindeedevilforaMuslimtoeatharamfood,itwasanevengreaterevilforaMuslimtostarvehimselftodeathwhenharamfoodwasavailabletobeeaten.Themendecidedthatwewouldcooktherottingmeatinasoup,beforethefirstlight.Then,fortifiedbythatmeal,wewoulduseHabib’sinformationontheenemypositionstofightourwayoutofthemountains.
Duringthelongweeksofhidingandwaitingwithoutheatorhotfood,we’dentertainedandsupportedoneanotherwiththestorieswe’dtold.Onthatlastnight,afterseveralothershadspoken,itwasmyturnoncemore.Formyfirststory,weeksbefore,I’dtoldthemaboutmyescapefromprison.Althoughthey’dbeenscandalisedbymyadmissionsaboutbeingagunaa,orsinner,andbeingimprisonedasacriminal,they’dbeenthrilledbytheaccount,andaskedmanyquestionsafterwards.MysecondstoryhadbeenabouttheNightoftheAssassins:howAbdullah,Vikram,andIhadtrackedtheNigeriankillersdown;howwe’dfoughtwiththem,defeatedthem,andthenexpelledthemfromthecountry;howI’dhuntedMaurizio,themanwho’dcauseditall,andbeathimwithmyfists;andhowI’dwantedtokillhim,buthadsparedhislife,onlytoregretthatpitywhenhe’dattackedLisaCarterandforcedUllatokillhim.
Thatstory,too,hadbeenverywellreceived,andasMahmoudMelbaaftookhisplacebesidemetotranslatemythirdstory,Iwonderedwhatmightcapturetheirenthusiasmanew.Mymindscanneditslistofheroes.Thereweremany,somanymenandwomen,beginningwithmyownmother,whosecourageandsacrificeinspiredthememoryofthem.ButwhenIbegantospeak,IfoundmyselftellingPrabaker’sstory.Thewords,likesomekindofdesperateprayer,cameunbiddenfrommyheart.
ItoldthemhowPrabakerhadlefthisvillage-Edenforthecitywhenhewasstillachild;howhe’dreturnedasateenager,withthewildstreetboyRajuandotherfriendstoconfrontthemenaceofthedacoits;howRukhmabai,Prabaker’smother,hadputcourageintothemenofthevillage;howyoungRajuhadfiredhisrevolverashewalkedtowardtheboastfulleaderofthedacoitsuntilthemanfelldead;howPrabakerhadlovedfeastinganddancingandmusic;howhe’dsavedthewomanhelovedfromthecholeraepidemic,andmarriedher;andhowhe’ddied,inahospitalbed,surroundedbyoursorrowinglove.
AfterMahmoudfinishedtranslatingthelastofmywordstherewasalengthysilencewhiletheyconsideredthetale.IwasjustconvincingmyselfthattheywereasmovedbythelifeofmylittlefriendasIwasmyselfwhenthefirstquestionsbegan.
“So,howmanygoatsdidtheyhaveinthatvillage?”Suleimanaskedgravely.
“Hewantstoknowhowmanygoats-”Mahmoudbegantranslating.
“Igotit,Igotit,”Ismiled.“Well,nearasIcantell,abouteighty,maybeasmanyasahundred.Eachhouseholdhadabouttwoorthreegoats,butsomehadasmanyassixoreight.”
Thatinformationinspiredalittlegesticulatingbuzzofdiscussionthatwasmoreanimatedandpartisanthananyofthepoliticalorreligiousdebatesthathadoccasionallystirredamongthemen.
“What…colour…werethesegoats?”Jalalaadasked.
“Thecolours,”Mahmoudexplainedsolemnly.“Hewantstoknowthecolorsofthosegoats.”
“Well,gee,theywerebrown,Iguess,andwhite,andafewblackones.”
“Weretheybiggoats,liketheonesinIran?”MahmoudtranslatedforSuleiman.“Orweretheyskinny,liketheonesinPakistan?”
“Well,about_sobig…”Isuggested,gesturingwithmyhands.
“Howmuchmilk,”Nazeerasked,caughtupinthediscussioninspiteofhimself,“didtheygetfromthosegoats,everyday?”
“I’m…notreallyanexpertongoats…”
“Try,”Nazeerinsisted.“Trytoremember.”
“Oh,shit.I…it’sjustawildstabinthedark,mindyou,butI’dsay,maybe,acoupleoflitresaday…”Ioffered,raisingthepalmsofmyhandshelplessly.
“Thisfriendofyours,howmuchdidheearnasataxidriver?”
Suleimanasked.
“Didthisfriendgooutwithawoman,alone,beforehismarriage?”Jalalaadwantedtoknow,causingallthementolaughandsomeofthemtothrowsmallstonesathim.
Inthatwaythesessionmovedthroughallthethemesthatconcernedthem,untilatlastIexcusedmyselfandfoundarelativelyshelteredspotwhereIcouldstareatthemistynothingofthefrozen,shroudedsky.Iwastryingtofightdownthefearthatprowledinmyemptybelly,andleaptupwithsharpclawsatmyheartinitscageofribs.
Tomorrow.Weweregoingtofightourwayout.No-onehadsaidit,butIknewthatalltheotherswerethinkingwewoulddie.Theyweretoocheerful,toorelaxed.Allthetensionanddreadofthelastweekshaddrainedfromthemoncewe’dmadethedecisiontofight.Itwasn’tthejoyfulreliefofmenwhoknowthey’resaved.
Itwassomethingelse-somethingI’dseeninthemirror,inmycell,onthenightbeforemydesperateescapefromprison,andsomethingI’dseenintheeyesofthemanwho’descapedwithme.Itwastheexhilarationofmenwhowereriskingeverything,riskinglifeanddeath,ononethrowofthedice.Sometimeonthenextdaywewouldbefree,orwewouldbedead.Thesameresolutionthathadsentmeoverthefrontwallofaprisonwassendingusovertheridge,andintotheenemyguns:it’sbettertodiefightingthantodielikearatinatrap.I’descapedfromprison,andcrossedtheworld,andcrossedtheyears,tofindmyselfinthecompanyofmenwhofeltexactlyasIdidaboutfreedomanddeath.
AndstillIwasafraid:afraidofbeingwounded,afraidofbeingshotinthespineandparalysed,afraidofbeingcapturedaliveandtorturedinanotherprisonbyyetanotherprisonguard.ItoccurredtomethatKarlaandKhaderbhaiwould’vehadsomethingclevertosaytomeaboutfear.Andinthinkingthat,Irealisedhowremotetheywerefromthemoment,andthemountain,andme.IrealisedthatIdidn’tneedtheirbrillianceanymore:itcouldn’thelpme.Alltheclevernessinalltheworldcouldn’tstopmystomachfromknottingarounditsprowlingfear.Whenyouknowyou’regoingtodie,there’snocomfortincleverness.
Geniusisvain,andclevernessishollow,attheend.Thecomfortthatdoescome,ifitcomesatall,isthatstrangelymarbledmixoftimeandplaceandfeelingthatweusuallycallwisdom.Forme,onthatlastnightbeforethebattle,itwasthesoundofmymother’svoice,anditwasthelifeanddeathofmyfriendPrabaker…Godgiveyourest,Prabaker.Istillloveyou,andthegrieving,whenIthinkofyou,ispinnedtomyheartandmyeyeswithbrightandburningstars…Mycomfort,onthatfreezingridge,wasthememoryofPrabaker’ssmilingface,andthesoundofmymother’svoice:Whateveryoudoinlife,doitwithcourage,andyouwon’tgofarwrong…
“Here,takeone,”Khaledsaid,slidingdownbesidemetosquatonhisheels,andofferingmeoneoftwohalf-cigarettesthatheheldinhisbarehand.
“Jesus!”Igawked.“Where’dyougetthose?Ithoughtweallranoutlastweek.”
“Wedid,”hesaid,lightingthecigaretteswithasmallgaslighter.“Exceptforthese.Ikeptthemforaspecialoccasion.Ithinkthisisit.Igotabadfeeling,Lin.Arealbadfeeling.
It’sinsideme,andIcan’tshakeittonight.”
Itwasthefirsttimethatwe’dspokenmorethantheessentialwordortwosincethenightthatKhaderhadleft.We’dworkedandsleptsidebyside,everydayandnight,butIalmostnevermethiseye,andI’davoidedconversationwithhimsocoldlythathe,too,hadbeensilentwithme.
“Look…Khaled…aboutKhader,andKarla…don’tfeel…Imean,I’mnot-”
“No,”heinterrupted.“Youhadplentyofreasontobemad.Icanseeitfromyourside.Ialwayscould.Yougotarawdeal,andItoldKhaderthat,too,onthenightheleft.Heshould’vetrustedyou.It’safunnything-theguyhetrustedmost,theonlyguyinthewholeworldhereallytrustedalltheway,turnedouttobeacrazykiller,andtheonewhosoldusallout.”
TheNewYorkaccent,withitsArabicswell,rolledovermelikeawarm,frothywave,andIalmostreachedouttohughim.I’dmissedtheassurancesI’dalwaysfoundinthesoundofthatvoice,andthehonestsufferingIsawinthescarredface.IwassogladtohavehisfriendshipagainthatIconfusedwhathe’dsaidaboutKhaderbhai.Ithought,withoutreallythinkingatall,thathewastalkingaboutAbdullah.Hewasn’t,andthat,too,likeahundredotherchancestoknowallthetruthintheoneconversation,waslost.
“HowwelldidyouknowAbdullah?”Iaskedhim.
“Prettywell,”heanswered,hislittlesmilebecominganaskingfrown:Whereisthisgoing?
“Didyoulikehim?”
“Notreally.”
“Whynot?”
“Abdullahdidn’tbelieveinanything.Hewasarebelwithoutacause,inaworldthatdoesn’thaveenoughrebelsfortherealcauses.Idon’tlike-andIdon’treallytrust-peoplewhodon’tbelieveinanything.”
“Doesthatincludeme?”
“No,”helaughed.“Youbelieveinalotofthings.That’swhyIlikeyou.That’swhyKhaderlovedyou.Hedidloveyou,youknow.
Hetoldmeso,acoupledifferenttimes.”
“WhatdoIbelievein?”Iscoffed.
“Youbelieveinpeople,”herepliedquickly.“Thatstuffwiththeslumclinicandall.Thestoryyoutoldtheguystonight,thataboutthevillage.You’dforgetthatshitifyoudidn’tbelieveinpeople.Thatworkintheslum,whenthecholerawentthroughtheplace-Khaderlovedthat,whatyoudidthen,andsodidI.
Shit,forawhilethere,IthinkyouevenhadKarlabelieving,too.Yougottaunderstand,Lin.IfKhaderhadachoice,iftherewasabetterwaytodowhathehadtodo,hewould’vetakenit.Itallplayedoutthewayithadto.Nobodywantedtofuckyouover.”
“NotevenKarla?”Ismiled,savouringthelastpuffofthecigaretteandthenstubbingitoutontheground.
“Well,maybeKarla,”heconceded,laughingthesmall,sadlaugh.
“Butthat’sKarla.IthinktheonlyguysheneverfuckedoverwasAbdullah.”
“Weretheytogether?”Iasked,sosurprisedthatIcouldn’thelpthepinchofjealousythatpulledmybrowstogetherinahard,littlefrown.
“Well,youcouldn’tsaytogether,”heansweredevenly,staringintomyeyes.“ButIwas,once.Iusedtolivewithher.”
“Youwhat?”
“Ilivedwithher-forsixmonths.”
“Whathappened?”Iasked,grittingmyteethandfeelingstupidforit.Ihadnorighttobeangryorjealous.I’dneveraskedKarlaaboutherlovers,andshe’dneveraskedmeaboutmine.
“Youdon’tknow,doyou?”
“Iwouldn’task,ifIknew.”
“Shedumpedme,”hesaidslowly,“justaboutthetimeyoucamealong.”
“Ah,fuck,man…”
“It’sokay,”hesmiled.
Weweresilentforamoment,bothofusreelingbackthroughtheyears.IrememberedAbdullah,attheseawallneartheHajiAliMosque,onthenightthatImethimwithKhaderbhai.Irememberedhimsayingthatawomanhadtaughthimthecleverphrasehe’dusedinEnglish.Itmust’vebeenKarla.OfcourseitwasKarla.
AndIrememberedthestiffnessthatwasinKhaled’smannerwhenIfirstmethim,andIrealised,suddenly,thathemust’vebeenhurtingthen,andmaybeblamingmeforit.Isawclearlywhatitmust’vetakenforhimtobeasfriendlyandkindtomeashewasatthebeginning.
“Youknow,”headdedafterawhile,“youreallygottogocarefulwithKarla,Lin.She’s…angry…youknow?Andshe’shurt.
She’shurtbad,inalltheplacesthatcount.Theyreallyfuckedherupwhenshewasakid.She’sabitcrazy.Shedidsomething,intheStates,beforeshecametoIndia.Andthatfuckedherup,too.”
“Whatdidshedo?”
“Idon’tknow.Somethingprettyserious.Shenevertoldmewhatitwas.Wetalkedaroundit,ifyougetmymeaning.IthinkKhaderbhaiknewaboutitbecause,youknow,hewasthefirstonetomeether.”
“No,Ididn’tknowthat,”Iansweredhim,frowningwiththethoughtofhowlittleIknewaboutthewomanI’dlovedforsolong.“Why…whydoyouthinkshenevertoldmeaboutKhaderbhai?Iknewheralongtime-whenwewerebothworkingforhim-andshedidn’tsayaword.Italkedabouthim,butsheneversaidaword.Shedidn’tmentionhisnameonce.”
“Ithinkshe’sjustloyaltohim,youknow?Idon’tthinkthere’sanythingagainstyou,Lin.She’sjustincrediblyloyal-well,shewasincrediblyloyaltohim.Shethoughtofhimlikeafather,Ithink.Herownfatherdiedwhenshewasakid.Andherstepfatherdiedwhenshewasstillprettyyoung.Khadercamealongjustintimetosaveher,sohegottobeherfather.”
“Yousaidhewasthefirstonewhomether?”
“Yeah,onaplane.It’skindofaweirdstory,thewayshetoldme.Shedidn’tremembergettingontheplane.Shewasrunningfromsomething-somethingshedid-andshewasintrouble.Sheendedupgoingonafewdifferentplanesfromdifferentairports–forafewdays,Ithink.AndthenshewasonthisplanethatwasgoingtoSingaporefrom…Idon’tknow…somewhere.Andshemust’vehad,like,anervousbreakdownorsomething,becauseshecrackedup,andthenextthingsheknew,shewasinthiscave,inIndia,withKhaderbhai.AndthenheleftherwithAhmed,wholookedafterher.”
“Shetoldmeabouthim.”
“Didshe?Shedoesn’ttalkaboutitmuch.Shelikedthatguy.Henursedherfornearaboutsixmonthsuntilshegotherselftogetheragain.Hebroughtherback-intothelight,like.Theywereprettyclose.Ithinkhewastheclosestthingtoabrothersheeverknew.”
“Wereyouwithher-Imean,didyouknowherthen,whenhewaskilled?”
“Idon’tknowthathewaskilled,Lin,”Khaledstated,frowninghardastheknotofrecollectionsturnedinhismemory.“IknowKarlabelievesit-thatMadameZhoukilledhim,andthegirl…”
“Christine.”
“Yeah,Christine.ButIknewAhmedprettywell.Hewasaverygentleguy-averysimple,softkindofaguy.Hewasjustthetypetotakepoisonwithhisgirlfriend,likeinaromanticmovie,ifhethoughthecouldn’teverbefreewithher.Khaderlookedintoit,realclose,becauseAhmedwasoneofhisguys,andhewassureZhouhadnothingtodowithit.Heclearedher.”
“ButKarlawouldn’tacceptit?”
“No,shedidn’tbuyit.Andcomingontopofeverythingelse,itreallyfuckedherup.Didsheevertellyoushelovesyou?”
Ihesitated,partlyfromreluctancetosurrenderthelittleadvantageImight’vehadoverhimifhebelievedthatshedidsayit,andpartlyfromloyaltytoKarla-becauseitwasherbusiness,afterall.Intheend,Iansweredhim:Ihadtoknowwhyhe’daskedmethequestion.
“No.”
“That’stoobad,”hesaidflatly.“Ithoughtyoumightbetheone.”
“Theone?”
“Theonetohelpher-tobreakthrough,Iguess.Somethingreallybadhappenedtothatgirl.Alotofbadthingshappenedtoher.
Khadermadeitworse,Ithink.”
“How?”
“Heputhertoworkforhim.Hesavedher,whenhemether,andheprotectedherfromwhatshewasscaredof,backintheStates.
Butthenshemetthisguy,apolitician,andhefellforherprettyhard.Khaderneededtheguy,sohegothertoworkforhim,andIdon’tthinkshewascutoutforit.”
“Whatkindofwork?”
“Youknowhowbeautifulsheis-thosegreeneyes,andthatwhite,whiteskin.”
“Ah,fuck,”Isighed,rememberingalectureKhaderhadgivenmeonce,abouttheamountofcrimeinthesin,andthesininthecrime.
“Idon’tknowwhatwasinKhader’shead,”Khaledconcluded,shakinghisownheadindoubtandwonder.“Itwas…outofcharacter,tosaytheleast.Ihonestlydon’tthinkhesawitas…damagingher.Butshe,kindof,frozeup,inside.Itwaslikeherownfather…wasgettinghertodothatshit.AndIdon’tthinksheforgavehimforit.Butshewasincrediblyloyaltohim,allthesame.Ineverunderstoodit.Butthat’showIgottogetherwithher-Isawallthathappening,andIfeltkindofsorryforher,ifyouknowwhatImean.Afterawhile,onethingledtoanother.ButIneverreallygotthroughtoher.Andyoudidn’t,neither.Idon’tthinkanyonewill.Ever.”“Everisalongtime.”
“Okay,yougotapoint.ButI’mjusttryingtowarnyou.Idon’twantyoutogethurtanymore,brother.We’vebeenthroughtoomuch,na?AndIdon’twanthertogethurt.”
Hefellsilentagain.Westaredattherocksandthefrostyground,avoidingoneanother’seyes.Afewshiveringminutespassed.Atlasthetookadeepbreathandstoodup,slappingatthechillinhisarmsandlegs.Istoodaswell,tremblingwithcoldandstampingmynumbfeet.Atthelastpossiblemoment,andwithanimpulsiverushasifhewasbreakingthroughatangleofvines,Khaledflunghisarmsaroundmeandhuggedme.Thestrengthinhisarmswasfierce,buthisheadslowlycametorestagainstmineastenderlyasthelollingheadofasleepingchild.
Whenhepulledawayfromme,hisfacewasavertedandIcouldn’tseehiseyes.Hewalkedoff,andIfollowedmoreslowly,huggingmyhandsundermyarmstofightoffthecold.ItwasonlywhenIwasalonethatIrecalledwhathe’dsaidtome:Igotabadfeeling,Lin.Arealbadfeeling…
Iresolvedtotalktohimaboutit,butjustatthatmomentHabibsteppedoutofashadowbesideme,andIjumpedinfright.
“Forfuck’ssake!”Ihissed.“Youscaredthefuckin’shitouttame!Don’tdothatshit,Habib!”
“It’sokay,it’sokay,”MahmoudMelbaafsaid,steppingupbesidethemadman.
Habibgarbledsomethingatme,speakingsoquicklythatIcouldn’tmakeoutasingleclearsyllable.Hiseyeswerestartingfromhishead.Theeffectwasexaggeratedbythedark,heavypouchesbeneathhiseyes,whichdraggedthelowerlidswiththemandshowedtoomuchwhitebelowthefractured,scatteredwheeloftheiris.
“What?”
“It’sokay,”Mahmoudrepeated.“Hewantstotalkwitheverybody.
Hetalkstoeveryman,tonight.Hecomestome.HeasksmetomakeitEnglishforyou,whathesays.Youarethelast,beforeKhaled.HewantstospeaktoKhaledlast.”
“Whatdidhesay?”
Mahmoudaskedhimtorepeatwhathe’dsaidtome.Habibdidspeakagain,inexactlythesametoo-rapid,hyper-energeticmanner,staringintomyeyesasifheexpectedanenemyoramonstrousbeasttoemergefromthem.Iwasjustassteadfastinreturningthestare:I’dbeenlockedupwithviolent,crazymen,andIknewbetterthantotakemyeyesoffhim.
“Hesaysthatstrongmenmakethelucktohappen,”Mahmoudtranslatedforus.
“What?”
“Strongmen,theymakeitforitself,theluck.”
“Strongmenmaketheirownluck?Isthatwhathemeans?”
“Yes,exactlyso,”Mahmoudagreed.“Astrongmancanmakehisownluck.”
“Whatdoeshemean?”
“Idonotknow,”Mahmoudreplied,smilingpatiently.“Hejustsaysit.”
“He’sjustgoingaround,tellingeverybodythis?”Iasked.“Thatastrongmanmakeshisownluck?”
“No.Forme,hesaidthattheProphet,peacebeuponHim,wasagreatsoldierbeforehewasagreatteacher.ForJalalaad,hesaidthatthestarsshinebecausetheyarefullwithsecrets.Itisdifferentforeveryman.Andhewasintoomuchahurryfortellingusthesethings.Itisveryimportantforhim.Idonotunderstand,Lin.Ithinkitisbecausewefighttomorrowmorning.”
“Wasthereanythingelse?”Iasked,mystifiedbytheexchange.
MahmoudaskedHabibiftherewasanythingelsethathewantedtosay.Holdingthestareintomyeyes,HabibrattledawayinPashtoandFarsi.
“Hesaysonlythatthereisnosuchathingasluck.Hewantsyoutobelievehim.Hesaysagainthatastrongman-”
“Makeshisownluck,”Icompletedthetranslationforhim.“Well,tellhimIappreciatethemessage.”
Mahmoudspoke,andforafewmomentsHabibstaredharder,searchinginmyeyesforarecognitionorresponsethatIcouldn’tgivehim.Heturnedandlopedawaywiththestooped,crouchingrunthatIfoundmorechillingandalarming,somehow,thanthemoreobvious,bulgingmadnessinhiseyes.
“Nowwhat’sheupto?”IaskedMahmoud,relievedthathewasgone.
“HewillfindKhaled,Ithink,”Mahmoudreplied.
“Damn,it’scold!”Ispluttered.
“Yes.Iamtoocold,likeyou.Iamalldaydreamingthatthiscoldwillbegone.”
“Mahmoud,youwereinBombaywhenwewenttoheartheBlindSingers,withKhaderbhai,weren’tyou?”
“Yes.Itwasthefirstmeeting,forallofus,atthesametimetogether.Isawyoutherethefirsttime.”
“I’msorry.Ididn’tmeetyouthatnight,andIdidn’tnoticeyouthere.WhatIwantedtoaskyouishowyougottogetherwithKhaderbhaiinthefirstplace.”
Mahmoudlaughed.ItwassoraretoseehimlaughoutloudthatIfeltmyselfsmilinginresponse.He’dlostweightonthemission–we’dalllostweight.Hisfacewasdrawntighttothehighcheekbonesandthepointedchin,coveredwithathick,darkbeard.Hiseyes,eveninthecoldmoonlight,werethepolishedbronzeofatemplevase.
“Iamstandingonthestreet,inBombay,andIamdoingsomepassportbusinesswithmyfriend.Thereisahandonmyshoulder.
ItisAbdullah.HetellsmethatKhaderKhanwantstoseeme.IgotoKhader,inhiscar.Wedrivetogether,wetalk,andafter,Iamhisman.”
“Whydidhepickyou?Whatmadehimpickyou,andwhatmadeyouagreetojoinhim?”
Mahmoudfrowned,anditseemedthathemightbeconsideringthequestionforthefirsttime.
“IwasagainstPahlaviShah,”hebegan.“ThesecretpoliceoftheShah,theSavak,theykilledmanypeople,andtheyputmanypeopleinthejailforbeating.Myfatherkilledinthejail.Mymotherkilledinthejail.ForfightingagainstShah.Iwasasmallboythattime.WhenIgrowup,IfightShah.Twotimesinthejail.Twotimesbeating,andelectricityonmybody,andtoomuchpain.IfightforrevolutioninIran.AyatollahKhomeinimakestherevolutioninIran,andheisthenewpower,whenShahrunsawaytoAmerica.ButSavaksecretpolicestillthesame.NowtheyworkforKhomeini.AgainIgointhejail.Againthebeatingandtheelectricpain.ThesamepeoplefromtheShah-theexactlysamepeopleinthejail-nowtheyworkforKhomeini.Allmyfriendsdieinthejail,andinthewaragainstIraq.Iescape,andcometoBombay.Imakebusiness,black-marketbusiness,withotherIranpeople.Then,AbdelKhaderKhanmakesmehisman.Inmylife,Imeetonlyonegreatman.ThatisKhader.Now,heisdead…”
Hechokedoffthewords,andrubbedatearfromeacheyewiththesleeveofhisroughjacket.
Itwasalongspeech,andwewerefreezingcold,yetstillIwould’veaskedhimmore.Iwantedtoknowitall-everythingthatfilledthegapsbetweenwhatKhaderbhaihadtoldmeandthesecretsKhaledhadshared.Butatthatmomentweheardapiercinglypiteousscreamofterror.Itdiedsuddenly,asifthethreadofsoundhadbeencutwithapairofshears.Welookedatoneanother,andreachedforweaponsinthesameinstinct.
“Thisway!”Mahmoudshouted,runningovertheslipperysnowandslushwithshort,carefulsteps.
Wereachedtheoriginofthesoundatthesametimeastheothermen.NazeerandSuleimanrushedthroughour.grouptoseewhatwewerestaringat.Theyfroze,silentandstill,atthesightofKhaledAnsarikneelingoverthebodyofHabibAbdurRahman.Themadmanwasonhisback.Hewasdead.Therewasaknifeinhisthroatwherethewordsaboutluckhadbeenonlyminutesbefore.
Theknifehadbeenpushedintohisneckandtwisted,justasHabibhimselfhaddonetoourhorsesandtoSiddiqi.Butitwasn’tHabib’sknifethatwestaredat,juttingoutofthemuddy,sinewedthroatlikeabranchfromariverbed.Weallknewtheknifewell.We’dallseenitsdistinctive,carved,hornhandleahundredtimes.ItwasKhaled’sknife
NazeerandSuleimanputtheirhandsunderKhaled’sarms,andliftedhimgentlyfromthecorpse.Heacceptedthehelpmomentarily,butthenheshruggedthemoffandkneltbesidethebody.Habib’spattushawlwasruckeduparoundhischest.Khaledpulledsomethingfromthefrontofthedeadman’sflakjacket.Itwasmetal,twopiecesofmetal,hangingfromHabib’sneckonleatherthongs.Jalalaadrushedforwardandsnatchedthem.TheywerethesouvenirfragmentsofthetankthatheandHanifandJumahaddestroyed;thepiecesthathisfriendshadwornaroundtheirnecks.
Khaledstoodandturnedandwalkedslowlyawayfromthekilling.
Iputmyhandonhisshoulderashepassedme,andwalkedwithhim.BehindmetherewasahowlofrageasJalalaadattackedHabib’scorpsewiththebuttofhisKalashnikov.Ilookedovermyshouldertoseethemadeyesofthelunaticcrushedbeneaththeriseandsmashingfalloftheweapon.Andinoneofthoseperversitiesofthepityingheart,IfoundmyselffeelingsorryforHabib.I’dwantedtokillhimmyself,morethanonce,andIknewthatIwasgladhewasdead,butmyheartwassosorryforhiminthatmomentthatIgrievedasifhewasafriend.Hewasa_teacher,Iheardmyselfthinking.ThemostviolentanddangerousmanI’deverknownhadbeenakindergartenteacher.Icouldn’tshakethatthought-asifitwastheonlytruth,inthatmoment,thatreallymattered.
AndwhenthemenfinallydraggedJalalaadaway,therewasnothingleft:nothingbutbloodandsnowandhairandshatteredbonewherethelifeandthetorturedmindhadbeen.
Khaledreturnedtoourcave.HewasmutteringsomethinginArabic.Hiseyeswereradiant,filledwithavisionthatilluminatedhim,andputanalmostfrighteningresolveinthesetofhisscarredfeatures.
Atthecave,heremovedthebeltaroundhiswaistthatheldhiscanteen.Heletitsliptotheground.Heliftedthecartridgebeltoverhisheadfromhisshoulderandletthattoofall.Nextherummagedthroughhispockets,emptyingthemoftheircontentsonebyoneuntiltherewasnothingonhimbuttheclotheshewore.Athisfeetwerehisfalsepassports,hismoney,hisletters,hiswallet,hisweapons,hisjewellery,andeventhebruised,wrinkle-earedphotosofhislong-deadfamily.
“What’shesaying?”IaskedMahmouddesperately.I’dspentthelastfourweeksavoidingKhaled’seyeandcoldlyrejectinghisfriendship.Suddenly,IwasunbearablyafraidthatIwasgoingtolosehim;thatI’dalreadylosthim.
“ItistheKoran,”Mahmoudrepliedinawhisper.“HeistellingSurasfromtheKoran.”
Khaledleftthecaveandwalkedtotheedgeofthecompound.Irantostophim,andpushedhimbackwithbothhands.Heallowedtheshove,andthencameontowardmeagain.Ithrewmyarmsaroundhimanddraggedhimbackafewpaces.Hedidn’tresistme.
HestareddirectlyaheadatthatinfuriatingvisiononlyhecouldseewhilehechantedthehypnoticallypoeticversesoftheKoran.
AndwhenIlethimgo,hecontinuedhiswalkoutofthecamp.
“Helpme!”Ishouted.“Can’tyousee?He’sgoing!He’sgoingoutthere!”
Mahmoud,Nazeer,andSuleimancameforwardbut,insteadofhelpingmetorestrainKhaled,theygraspedmyarmsandgentlyprisedthemawayfromhim.Khaledimmediatelybegantowalkforward.Iwrestledmyselffree,andrushedtostophimagain.Ishoutedathimandslappedathisfacetowakenhimtothedanger.Hedidn’tresistandhedidn’t.react.Ifeltthetearshotonmycoldface,stinginginthecracksthatsplitmyfrozenlips.Ifeltthesobbinginmychestlikeariverrapplingandrollingagainstwornandroundedrocks,onandonandon.Iheldhimtight,withonearmaroundhisneckandtheotheraroundhiswaist,myhandslockedtogetherathisback.
Nazeer,evenasthinandweakenedashe’dbecomeinthoseweeks,wastoostrongforme.HissteelhandsgrabbedatmywristsandpeeledthemawayfromKhaled.MahmoudandSuleimanhelpedhimtoholdmebackasIstruggledandreachedouttograbKhaled’sjacket.Andthenwewatchedhimwalkfromthecampintothewinterthatonewayoranotherhadruinedorkilledusall.
“Didn’tyouseeit?”Mahmoudaskedmewhenhewasgone.“Didn’tyouseehisface?”
“Yes,Isawit,Isawit,”Isobbed,staggeringbacktothecavetofallintothecrumpledcellofmymisery.
Ilaythereforhoursunsleeping,filthystarving,angry,andbroken-hearted.AndImight’vediedthere-somepain,sometimes,leavesyouwithoutlegsorarms-butthesmelloffoodbroughtmeround.Themenhaddecidedthattheycouldn’twaittocookthelastoftherottingmeat.They’dboileditinapotduringthosehours,fanningthesmokeawaycontinuouslyandconcealingtheflamewithblankets
Thesoupwasreadylongbeforedawn,andeverymantookabowl,glass,ormugofit.Thestinkoftherottingmeatwasmorethanouremptystomachscouldbear,atfirst.Weallvomitedthefoul,retchingsipswetook.Buthungerhasawillofitsown,awillthat’smucholderthantheotherwillwepraiseandflatterinthepalaceofthemind.Weweretoohungrytorefusethefood,andbythethirdtry,orthefifthforsomeofus,wekepttherepulsive,stinkingbrewdown.Thenthepaincausedbythehotsoupinouremptystomachswasassharpasabellyfulloffishhooks;yetthattoopassed,andeverymanforcedhimselftodrinkthreehelpings,andtochewtherubbery,rottingchunksofmeat.
Fortwohoursafterthatwetookturnstodashintotherocksasthefoodworkedthroughintestinesandbowelsthathadseizedinourstarvingbodies,andsuddenlyerupted.
Atlast,whenwerecovered,andwhenalltheprayersweresaid,andwheneachmanwasready,wegatherednearthesouth-easternedgeofthecompoundattheplaceHabibhadrecommendedforourattack.He’dassuredusthatthesteepslopewasouronechancetofightourwaytofreedom;andsincehe’dplannedtofightintheattackwithus,wehadnoreasontodistrusttheadvice.
Weweresixmen.ThefiveotherswereSuleiman,MahmoudMelbaaf,Nazeer,Jalalaad,andyoungAla-ud-Din.Hewasashymanoftwentywithaboy’sgrinbeneathanoldman’sfadedgreeneyes.
Hecaughtmyeye,andnoddedencouragingly.Ireturnedthenodwithasmile,andhisfacebrokeintoawidergrinwhilehisheadnoddedmorevigorously.Ilookedaway,ashamedthatI’dspentsomuchtimewithhim,monthsofhardtime,withoutoncetryingtoengagehiminaconversation.Weweregoingtodietogether,andIknewnothingabouthim.Nothing.
Dawnputfireinthesky.Wind-drivencloudsstreamingacrossthefarplainwereaflame,crimsonedwiththefirstburningkissesofthemorningsun.Weshookhands,embraced,huggedoneanother,checkedourweaponsagainandagain,andstareddownthesteepslopestowardforever.
Theend,whenitcomes,isalwaystoosoon.Myskinwastightonmyface,drawnbackbythemusclesofmyneckandjaw,thosemusclesinturnpulledtautbytheshouldersandarmsandfrostbittenhands,clutchingthefinalagonyofthegun.
Suleimangavetheorder.Mystomachdroppedandlocked,andfrozeashardasthecoldunfeelingearthbeneathmyboots.Istoodup,andcrossedthelipoftheridge.Westarteddowntheslope.Itwasamagnificentday,thebestcleardayformonths.Irememberedthinking,weeksbefore,thatAfghanistan,likeprison,hadnodawnsandnosunsetsinthestonecagesofitsmountains.
YetthedawnthatmorningwasmorelovelythananyI’deverknown.Whenthesteeperslopeseasedintoamoregradualdecline,wepickedupthepace,joggingoverthelastoftherose-pinksnowandintothegrey-greenroughgroundbeyond.
Thefirstexplosionsweheardweretoofarawayfromustofrightenme.Okay.Hereitcomes.Thisisit…Thewordschatteredthroughmymindasifsomeoneelsespokethem:asifsomeone,likeacoach,waspreparingmefortheend.Thentheexplosionswerecloser,astheenemymortarsfoundtheirrange.
Ilookedalongourline,andsawthattheotherswererunningharderthanIwas.OnlyNazeerwasstillbesideme.Itriedtorunfaster.Mylegsseemedwoodenandnumb:Isawthemmoving,running,stepafterstep,butIcouldn’tfeelthem.Ittookagiganticeffortofwilltosendthemessagetomylegs,andcommandthemtogreaterspeed.AtlastIstumbledintoafasterrun.
Twomortarsexplodedquiteclosetome.Ikeptrunning,waitingforthepain,andwaitingforthekillingjoke.Myheartwaschurninginmychest,andmybreathingcameingasping,gruntinglittlepuffsofcoldair.Icouldn’tseetheenemypositions.Themortar’srangewaswelloverakilometre,butIknewtheyhadtobecloserthanthat.Andthenthefirstshotsspattered,thetun-tun-tun-tunoftheAK-74s-theirsandours.Iknewtheywereclose.Theywerecloseenoughtokillus,andcloseenoughforustokillthem.
Myeyesracedaheadontheroughground,lookingforholesorboulders,tryingtofindthesafestpath.Amanwentdown,leftofme,alongtheline.ItwasJalalaad.HewasrunningbesideNazeer,andlessthanahundredmetresfromme.Amortarshellexplodeddirectlyinfrontofhimandrippedhisyoungbodyintopieces.Lookingdownagain,Ijumpedoverrocksandboulders,andIstumbledbutdidn’tfall.IsawSuleiman,fiftymetresinfrontofme,clutchathisthroatandthenfallforward,runningafewmorepacesdoubled-upasifhewassearchingforsomethingonthegroundinfrontofhim.Hisbodycrumpledandcollapsedoverhisface,tumblingtotheside.Hisfaceandthroatwerebloodiedandbrokenandtornopen.Itriedtorunaroundhim,butthegroundwasroughandstrewnwithrocks,andIhadtojumpoverhisbodyasIran.
IsawthefirstflashesoffirefromtheenemyKalashnikovs.Theywerefaraway,atleasttwohundredmetres,muchfurtherthanI’dguessed.Atracerbulletfizzedpastme,onlyonesteptomyleft.Wewouldn’tmakeit.Wecouldn’tmakeit.Thereweren’tmanyofthem-thereweren’tmanygunsfiring-buttheyhadsomuchtimetogetasightonusandshootusdown.Theyweregoingtokillusall.Thenawildflurryofexplosionscrunchedintotheenemylines.Theidiots!Theyblewuptheirownmortarshells,Ithought,andgunfirelikefireworksrattledtheworldfromeverywhereatonce.AndNazeerraisedhisassaultrifle,andfiredasheran,andIsawMahmoudMelbaaffiringaheadofme,onmyright,whereSuleimanhadbeen,andIraisedmyweapon,andpulledthetrigger.
Therewasahorrible,blood-freezingscreamsomewhereveryclose.
Isuddenlyrecogniseditasmyown,butIcouldn’tstopit.AndIlookedatthemen,thebraveandbeautifulmenbesideme,runningintotheguns,andGodhelpmeforthinkingit,andGodforgivemeforsayingit,butitwasglorious,itwasglorious,ifgloryisamagnificentandrapturedexaltation.Itwaswhatlovewouldbelike,iflovewasasin.Itwaswhatmusicwouldbe,ifmusiccouldkillyou.AndIclimbedaprisonwallwitheveryrunningstep.
Andthen,inaworldsuddenlysoundlessasthedeepestsea,mylegsstoppedstill,andhot,gritty,filthy,explodingearthcloggedmyeyesandmymouth.Somethinghadhitmylegs.
Somethinghardandhotandviciouslysharphadhitmylegs.IfellforwardasifI’dbeenrunninginthedarkandI’dsmashedintoafallentreetrunk.Amortarround.Themetalfragments.
Theshock-deafenedsilence.Theburningskin.Theblindingearth.
Thechokingstruggleforbreath.Therewasasmellthatfilledmyhead.Itwasthesmellofmyowndeath-itsmellsofblood,andseawater,anddampearth,andtheashofburnedwoodwhenyousmellyourowndeathbeforeyoudie-andthenIhitthegroundsohardthatIplungedthroughitintoadeep,undreamingdarkness.
Andthefallwasforever.Andtherewasnolight,nolight.
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PARTFIVE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
Ifyoustareintoitscolddeadeye,thecameraalwaysmocksyouwiththetruth.Theblack-and-whitephotographshowedalmostallthemenofKhader’smujaheddinunitassembledforthekindofformalportraitthatmakesthepeopleofAfghanistan,Pakistan,andIndiaseemmorestiffandgloweringlyself-consciousthantheyreallyare.Itwasimpossibletotellfromthatphotohowmuchthosemenhadlovedtolaugh,andhowreadilythey’dsmiled.
Butnoneofthemwerelookingdirectlyintothelensofthecamera.Alltheeyesbutminewerealittleaboveorbelow,alittletotheleftortheright.OnlymyowneyesstaredbackatmeasIheldthepictureinmybandagedhands,andrememberedthenamesofthemenleaningtogetherintheraggedlines.
MazdurGul,thestonemason,whosenamemeanslabourer,andwhosehandswerepermanentlygrey-whitefromdecadesofworkwithgranite…Daoud,wholikedtobecalledbytheEnglishversionofhisname,David,andwhosedreamitwastovisitthegreatcityofNewYorkandeatamealinafinerestaurant…
Zamaanat,whosenamemeanstrust,andwhosebravesmileconcealedtheagonyofshamehe’dfeltthathiswholefamilylivedinhungrysqualoratJalozai,ahugerefugeecampnearPeshawar…
HajjiAkbar,who’dbeenappointedasthedoctorintheunitfornootherreasonthanthathe’doncespenttwomonthsasapatientinaKabulhospital,andwho’dgreetedmyacceptanceofthedoctor’sjob,whenIarrivedatthemountaincamp,withprayersandalittleDervishdanceofjoy…Alef,themischievouslysatiricalPashtuntrader,whodiedcrawlinginthesnowwithhisbacktornopenandhisclothesonfire…JumaandHanif,thetwowildboyswhowerekilledbythemadmanHabib…Jalalaad,theirfearlessyoungfriend,whodiedinthelastcharge…Alaud-Din,whosenameinEnglishisshortenedtoAladdin,andwhoescapedunscathed…SuleimanShahbadi,ofthefurrowedbrowandsorrowingeyes,whodiedleadingusintotheguns.
Andinthecentreoftheassemblytherewasasmaller,tightergrouparoundAbdelKhaderKhan:AhmedZadeh,theAlgerian,whodiedwithonehandclenchedinthefrozenearthandtheotherknottedintomine…KhaledAnsari,whomurderedthemadmanHabibandthenwalkedintothelostworldofthesmotheringsnow…MahmoudMelbaaf,whosurvivedthelastchargelikeAla-udDin,unwoundedandunmarked…Nazeer,whoignoredhisownwoundstodragmyunconsciousbodytosafety…andme.StandingbehindandalittletotheleftofKhaderbhai,myexpressioninthephotographwasconfident,resolute,andself-possessed.Andthecamera,theysay,doesn’tlie.
ItwasNazeerwho’dsavedme.Themortarshellthathadexplodedsoclosetous,asweranintotheguns,rippedandrupturedtheair.Theshockwaveburstmylefteardrum.Inthesamedeafenedmoment,piecesoftheexplodedshellpassedusinahotmetalblizzard.Noneofthelargerchunksofmetalhitme,buteightsmallpiecesoftheshrapnelsmashedintomylegsbelowtheknees–fiveinoneleg,andthreeintheother.Twosmallerpieceshitmybody-oneinthestomach,andoneinthechest.Theytorethroughtheheavylayersofmyclothing,andevenpiercedmythickmoneybeltandthesolidleatherstrapsofmymedic’sbag,burningtheirwayintomyskin.Anotherchunkhitmyforehead,highabovethelefteye.
Theyweretinyfragments,thelargestofthemaboutthesizeofAbeLincoln’sfaceonanAmericanpennycoin.Still,theyweretravellingatsuchaspeedthattheytookmylegsoutfromunderme.Earth,thrownupbytheexplosion,pepperedmyface,blindingandchokingme.Ihitthegroundhard,justmanagingtoturnmyfaceasidebeforetheimpact.Unfortunately,Iturnedthebursteardrumtotheground,andtheviolenceoftheblowrivedthewoundevenfurther.Iblackedout.
Nazeer,whowaswoundedinthelegsandthearm,pulledmyunconsciousbodyintotheshelterofashallow,trench-likedepression.Hecollapsedhimself,then,coveringmybodywithhisownuntilthebombardmentstopped.Lyingtherewithhisarmsaroundmyneck,hetookahitinthebackofhisrightshoulder.
Itwasapieceofmetalthatwould’vehitme,andmight’vekilledme,hadKhader’smannotprotectedmewithhislove.Whenallwasquiet,hedraggedmetosafety.
“ItwasSayeed,yes?”MahmoudMelbaafasked.“Sorry?”
“ItwasSayeedwhotookthepicture,wasitnot?”
“Yes.Yes.ItwasSayeed.TheycalledhimKishmishi…”
Thewordsweptusintoremembrancesoftheshy,youngPashtunfighter.He’dseenKhaderbhaiastheembodimentofallhiswarriorheroes,andhe’dfollowedhimeverywhere,adoringly,witheyeshequicklycastdownwhentheKhanlookedhisway.He’dsurvivedsmallpoxasachild,andhisfacewasseverelypockmarkedwithdozensofsmall,brown,dish-likespots.Hisnickname,Kishmishi,usedwithgreataffectionbytheolderfighters,meantRaisins.He’dbeentooshytoposewithusinthephotograph,sohe’dvolunteeredtooperatethecamera.
“HewaswithKhader,”Imuttered.
“Yes,attheend.Nazeersawhisbody,atthesideofKhader,veryclosetohim.IthinkhewouldasktobewithAbdelKhaderevenifheknew,beforetheattack,thattheywouldgetanattack,andgetkilled.Ithinkhewouldasktodielikethat.
Andhewasnottheonlyone.”
“Wheredidyougetthis?”
“Khaledhadtherolloffilm.Remember?HehadtheonlycamerathatKhadergivehispermission.Thefilmwaswithotherthingsheletfalldowntothegroundfromhispocketswhenhewentfromus.Itakeitwithme.Iputitinthephotostudiolastweek.
Theyreturnthephotosthismorning.Ithoughtyouwouldlikeittoseethem,beforeweleave.”
“Leave?Wherearewegoing?”
“Wehavetogetoutofhere.Howareyoufeeling?”
“I’mfine,”Ilied.“I’mokay.”
Isatuponthecotbedandswungmylegsovertheside.WhenmyfeethitthefloortherewasapainsoexcruciatinginmyshinsthatImoanedaloud.Anotherfiercepainthrobbedatmyforehead.
Iprobedwithmyblunt,bandagedfingersatawadofdressingbeneathabandagethatwoundroundmyheadlikeaturban.Athirdpaininmyleftearnaggedformyattention.Myhandswereaching,andmyfeet,swaddledinthreeormorelayersofsocks,feltasiftheywereburning.Therewasapainfulacheinmylefthip,wherethehorsehadkickedmewhenthejetshadtornuptheskyaboveus,monthsbefore.Thewoundhadneverproperlyhealed,andIsuspectedthatabonewaschippedbeneaththetenderflesh.
Myforearmfeltnumbneartheelbow,wheremyownhorsehadbittenmeinitspanic.Thatwoundwasalsomonthsold,andittoohadneverreallyhealed.Doubledover,restingonmythighs,Icouldfeelthetightnessofmystomachandtheleanerfleshofmylegs.Iwasthin,afterstarvingonthemountain.Toothin.Allinall,itwasamess.Iwasinabadway.Thenmymindcamebacktothebandagesonmyhands,andasensationclosetopanicroselikeaspearinmyspine.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“I’vegottagetthesebandagesoff,”Isnapped,tearingatthemwithmyteeth.
“Wait!Wait!”Mahmoudcried.“Iwilldoitforyou.”
Heunwoundthebulkybandagesslowly,andIfeltthesweatrunfrommyeyebrowsontomycheeks.Whenbothlotsofbindingswereremoved,Istaredatthedisfiguredclawsthatmyhandshadbecome,andImovedthem,flexingthefingers.Frostbitehadsplitmyhandsopenatalltheknucklejoints,andthebruiseblackwoundswerehideous,butallthefingersandallthefingertipswerethere.
“YoucanthankNazeer,”Mahmoudmutteredsoftlyasheexaminedmycrackedandpeelinghands.“Theywerethinkingtocutoffyourfingers,buthewouldnotletthem.Andhewouldnotletthemleaveyouuntiltheytreatedallyourinjuries.Hedidforcethemtohelpthefrostbiteinjuriesonyourface,also.HehadtheKalashnikovandyourautomaticpistol.Here-heaskedmetogiveittoyou,whenyouwakeup.”
HeproducedtheStechkin,wrappedinacoilofcheesecloth.Itriedtotakeit,butmyhandscouldn’tholdthebundle.
“Iwillkeepitforyou,”Mahmoudofferedwithastifflittlesmile.
“Whereishe?”Iasked,stilldazedanddrilledbythepain,butfeelingbetterandstrongerbytheminute.
“Overthere,”Mahmoudindicated,noddinghishead.IturnedtoseeNazeer,sleepingonhissideonacotsimilartomyown.“Heisresting,butheisreadytomove.Wemustleaveheresoon.Ourfriendswillcomeforusatanytimenow,andwemustbereadytomove.”
Ilookedaroundme.Wewereinalarge,sand-colouredtentwithpalletfloorsandaboutfifteenfoldingcot-beds.SeveralmenwearingAfghanclothing-loosepants,tunicshirts,andlong,sleevelessvestsinthesameshadesofpalegreen-movedamongthebeds.Theywerefanningthewoundedmenwithstrawfans,washingthemwithbucketsofsoapywater,orcarryingawaywastesthroughanarrowslitinthecanvasdoor.SomeofthewoundedweremoaningorspeakingouttheirpaininlanguagesIcouldn’tunderstand.TheairinthatPakistaniplain,aftermonthsinthesnowypeaksofAfghanistan,wasthickandhotandheavy.Thereweresomanystrongsmells,oneuponanother,thatmysensesrejectedthemandconcentratedononeparticularlypungentaroma:theunmistakablesmellofperfumedIndianbasmatirice,cookingsomewhereclosetothetent.
“I’mfuckin’hungry,man,Igottatellya.”
“Wewilleatgoodfoodsoon,”Mahmoudassuredme,allowinghimselfalaugh.
“Arewe…?ThisisPakistan?”
“Yes,”helaughedagain.“Whatcanyouremember?”
“Notmuch.Running.Theywereshootingatus…fromalongwayoff.Mortarseverywhere.Iremember…Iwashit…”
Ifeltalongthepaddedbandagesthatswathedmyshins,fromkneestoankles.
“AndIhittheground.Then…Iremember…wasitajeep?Oratruck?Didthathappen?”
“Yes.Theytookus.Massoud’smen.”
“Massoud?”
“AhmedShah.TheLionhimself.Hismenmadetheattackonthedamandthetwomainroads-toKabulandtoQuetta.TheyputasiegeonKandahar.Theyarestillthere,outsidethecity,andtheywillnotleave,Ithinkso,untilthewarisover.Weranintothemiddleofit,myfriend.”
“Theyrescuedus…”
“Itwas,howtosay,thelesstheydoforus.”
“Theleasttheycoulddoforus?”
“Yes.Becauseitwasthemwhokilledus.”
“What?”
“Yes.Whenwemadeourescapingoutofthemountain,runningdown,theAfghanarmyshootatus.Massoud’smenseeus,andthinkwearesomeoftheenemy.Theyarealongwayfromus.Theystarttoshootatuswithmortars.”
“Ourownpeopleshotatus?”
“Everybodywasshooting-Imean,everyoneshootinginthesametime.Afghanarmy,theywereshootingatusalso,butthemortarsthatdidhitus,Ithinktheywereourownside.AndthatmadeAfghanarmyandRussiansoldiersrunaway.Ikilledtwoofthemmyselfwhentheyrunaway.ThemenofAhmedShahMassoud,theyhadStingers.TheAmericansgivethemtheStingers,inApril,andsincethattime,theRussianshavingnohelicopters.Nowthemujaheddinfightbackineveryplace.Nowthewarisover,intwoyears,ormaybethree,Inshallah.”
“April…whatmonthisthis?”
“NowisMay.”
“HowlonghaveIbeenhere?”
“Fourdays,Lin,”heansweredsoftly.
“Fourdays…”I’dthoughtitwasonenight,onelongsleep.IlookedovermyshoulderagainatthesleepingformofNazeer.
“Areyousurehe’sokay?”
“Heisinjured-here…andhere-butheisstrong,andhecanmovehimself.Hewillbewell,Inshallah.Heislikeashotor!”helaughed,usingtheFarsiwordforcamel.“Hemakeshismind,andnobodycanchangehim.”
IlaughedwithhimforthefirsttimesinceI’dwoken.Thelaughsentmyhandstomyheadinanefforttocontainthethrobbingpainitcaused.
“Iwouldn’tliketobetheonewhotriedtochangeNazeer’smindaboutanything,onceitwasmadeup.”
“Metoonot.”Mahmoudagreed.“ThesoldiersofMassoud,theycarriedyouandNazeer,withme,toacar,agoodRussiancar.
Afterthecar,wemovedyouandNazeertoatruck,fortheroadtoChaman.AtChaman,thePakistanis,borderguards,theywanttotakeNazeer’sguns.Hegivethemmoney-someofyourmoney,fromyourmoneybelt-andhekeephisguns.Wehideyouintheblankets,withtwodeadmen.Weputthemontopofyou,andweshowthemtoborderguards,andtellthatwewanttogivegoodMuslimburialforthesemen.ThenwecomeintoQuetta,tothishospital,andagaintheywanttotakeNazeer’sguns.Againhegivethemmoney.Theywanttocutyourfingers,becauseofthesmell…”
Iputmyhandstomynose,andsniffedatthem.Therewasarotten,death-foetidsmelltothemstill.Itwasfaint,butclearenoughtoremindmeoftherottinggoat’sfeetwe’deatenasourlastsupperonthemountain.Mystomachchurned,archinglikeafightingcat.Mahmoudquicklyreachedforametaldishandthrustitundermyface.Ivomited,spittingblack-greenbileintothebowl,andfellforwardhelplesslyontomyknees.
Whenthenauseaattackpassed,IsatbackonthecotandsnatchedgratefullyatthecigaretteMahmoudlitforme.“Goon.”Istuttered.
“What?”
“Youweresaying…aboutNazeer…”
“Ohyes,yes,hepullhisKalashnikovoutfromunderhispattuandpointitatthem.Hetellthemhewillkillthemall,iftheycutyou.Theywanttocalltheguards,thecamppolice,butNazeer,heisinthedoorofthetent,withhisgun.Theycannotgopasthim.AndIamonhisotherside,lookingforhisback.Sotheyfixyou.”
“That’sahellofahealthplan-anAfghanwithaKalashnikovpointedatyourdoctor.”
“Yes,”heagreedwithoutirony.“Andafter,theyfixNazeer.Andthen,aftertwodayswithnosleep,andmanywounds,Nazeersleep.”
“Theydidn’tcalltheguards,whenhewenttosleep?”
“No.TheyareallAfghanshere.Doctors,woundedmen,guards,everybodyisAfghan.Butnotthecamppolice.TheyarePakistani.
TheAfghans,theydon’tlikethePakistanpolice.TheyhavebigtroublewithPakistanpolice.EverybodyhastroublewithPakistanpolice.Sotheygiveapermissiontome,andItakeNazeer’sgunswhenhesleep.AndIlookafterhim.AndIlookafteryou.Wait-Ithinkourfriendsarehere!”
Thelongflapsofthetent’sdoorwayopenedallthewayback,stunninguswiththeyellowlightofawarmday.Fourmenentered.TheywereAfghans,veteranfighters;hardmen,witheyesthatstaredatmeasiftheywerelookingalongthedecoratedbarrelofajezailrifle.Mahmoudrosetogreetthem,andwhisperedafewwords.TwoofthemenwokeNazeer.He’dbeeninadeepsleep,andspunroundatthefirsttouch,graspingatthemenandreadytofight.Reassuredbytheirgentleexpressions,hethenturnedhisheadtocheckonme.Seeingmeawakeandsittingup,hegrinnedsobroadlythatitwasalittlealarminginafacesoseldomstruckwithasmile.
Thetwomenhelpedhimtohisfeet.Therewasawadofbandagestrappedtohisrightthigh.Supportinghimselfontheirshoulders,helimpedoutintothesunlight.Theothermenhelpedmetomyfeet.Itriedtowalk,butmywoundedshinsrefusedtoobeyme,andthebestIcouldmanagewasatotteringshuffle.
Afterafewsecondsofthatembarrassinglyfeeblescuffling,themenformedachairwiththeirarmsandsweptmeupeffortlesslybetweenthem.
Forthenextsixweeks,thatwasthepatternofourrecovery:afewdays,perhapsaslongasaweek,inonelocationbeforeanabruptshifttoanewtentorslumhutorhiddenroom.ThePakistansecretservice,theISI,hadamaligninterestineveryforeignerwhoenteredAfghanistanwithouttheirsanctionduringthewar.
TheproblemforMahmoudMelbaaf,whowasourguardianinthosevulnerableweeks,wasthefascinationourstoryheldfortherefugeesandexileswhoharbouredus.I’ddarkenedmyblondehair,andIworesunglassesalmostallthetime.But,nomatterhowcarefulandsecretivewewereintheslumsandcampswherewestayed,therewasalwayssomeonewhoknewwhoIwas.ThetemptationtotalkabouttheAmericangunrunnerwhowaswoundedinbattle,fightingwiththemujaheddin,wasirresistible.Talklikethatwould’vebeenenoughtopiquethecuriosityofanyintelligenceagentfromanyagency.Andhadthesecretpolicefoundme,theywould’vediscoveredthattheAmericanwasinfactanescapedconvictfromAustralia.Thatwould’vemeantpromotionsforsome,andaspecialthrillforthetorturerswhowouldgettoworkonmebeforetheyhandedmeovertotheAustralianauthorities.Sowemovedoftenandwemovedquickly,andwespoketononebutthefewwetrustedwithourwoundedlives.
Littlebylittle,thedetailsemerged:themorecompletestoryofthebattlewe’druninto,andourrescueafterit.TheRussianandAfghansoldierswho’dsurroundedourmountaincomprisedthebestpartofacompanyand,assuch,wereprobablyledbyacaptain.TheirsolepurposeinoperatingamongtheShar-i-SafaMountainswastocatchandkillHabibAbdurRahman.Ahugerewardhadbeenpostedforhisarrest,buttheterrorandthehorrorthathisatrocitieshadforcedintotheirmindsmadethehuntforhimamuchmorepersonaloperationforthesearchers.Somesmerisedweretheybyhissavagehatred,andsoobsessedweretheywithhiscapture,thattheyfailedtodetectthestealthyadvanceofAhmedShahMassoud’sforces.Whenwemadeourbreakforfreedom,actingonHabib’sinformationthatmostoftheRussiansandtheAfghanswerebusylayingminesandothertrapsonthefarsideofthemountain,thestartledsentriesinthedesertedenemycamphadopenedfire.They’dthought,perhaps,thatHabibhimselfwascomingforthem,becausetheirfirewaswildandundisciplined.ThatactionhadprecipitatedtheattackthatwasbeingplannedbyMassoud’smujaheddin,whomust’veseenthefiringasapre-emptivestrikebytheRussians.TheexplosionsI’dseenandheardasIrantowardtheenemy-theyblewuptheirownmortarshells,theidiots-wereactuallydirecthitsontheRussianpositionsbyMassoud’smortars.Thewidermortarstrikesthattoreintoourlineweremereaccidents:friendlyfire,astheysay.
AndthatwastheelatedmomentI’dcalledglorious,inmymind,asIranintotheguns:thatstupidwasteoflives,thatfriendlyfire.Therewasn’tanygloryinit.Thereneveris.There’sonlycourageandfearandlove.Andwarkillsthemall,onebyone.
GlorybelongstoGod,ofcourse;that’swhatthewordreallymeans.Andyoucan’tserveGodwithagun.
Whenwefell,Massoud’smenpursuedthefleeingenemyallthewayaroundthemountainandintothereturningcompanyofminelayers.
Thebattlethatfollowedwasamassacre.NotonemanoftheforcesenttocatchandkillHabibAbdurRahmansurvived.Hewould’velikedthat,themadman,hadhebeenalivetohearit.Iknowexactlyhowhewould’vegrinned,withhiswidemouthgapingsoundlessandhisgrief-crazedeyesbulgingonswollenhatreds.
Allthatcoldday,andintothesuddenevening,NazeerandIhadremainedonthebattleground.Asweshiveredintheswiftlyfallingshadowsofsunset,themujaheddinandthesurvivorsfromourownunitreturnedfromthefightingtofindus.MahmoudandAla-ud-Dinbroughtthedead-SuleimanandJalalaad-fromthebarrenmountain.
Massoud’smenhadcombinedwithindependentAchakzaifighterstoclaimtheChamanhighwayfromthePassallthewaytotheRussiandefensiveperimeterofbesiegedKandahar,lessthanfiftykilometresfromthecity.TheevacuationtoChaman,andthroughthePasstoPakistan,wasrapidandwithoutincident.Werodeinatruck,carryingourdeadfriendswithus,andreachedthecheckpointinhours-thejourneythathadtakenusamonthofmountainsonKhader’shorses.
Nazeerhealedrapidlyandbegantoregainweight.Thewoundsinhisarmandthebackofhisshoulderclosedoverwell,andgavehimlittletrouble.Butthelargeranddeeperwoundtohisrightthighseemedtohavedamagedtheligamentaryrelationshipbetweenmuscle,bone,andtendons,fromhishiptohisknee.Theupperlegwasstiff,andhestillwalkedwithalimpasheswunghisrightsteparoundthehip,insteadofthroughit.
Hisspiritswererelativelyhigh,however,andhewasanxioustoreturntoBombay-soanxious,infact,thathisfrettingattentiontomyslowerrecoverybecameirritating.Isnappedathimacoupleoftimeswhenhissolicitousurging-Youbetter?Youcomenow?Wegonow?-becameunendurablyannoying.Ididn’tknowthenthathehadamission,Khader’slastmission,waitingforhiminBombay.ThemissionwasallthatheldhisgriefandhisshameatsurvivingAbdelKhaderincheck.Andeveryday,asourhealthimproved,theobligationsofKhader’slastcommandtohimgrewmoresuffocating;andhisdereliction,ashesawit,moreprofane.
Ihadpreoccupationsofmyown.Thewoundsonmylegswerehealingreadilyenough,andtheskinonmyforeheadclosedsafelyoverasmall,lumpyridgeofbone,butmyrupturedeardrumbecameinfected,anditwasthesourceofaconstantandalmostunbearablepain.Everymouthfuloffood,everysipofwater,everywordIspoke,andeveryloudnoisethatIheardsentpiercinglittlescorpionstingsalongthenervesofmyfaceandthroat,anddeepintomyfeveredbrain.Everymovementofmybody,orturnofthehead,stabbedintothatsweatingexcruciation.Everyinwardbreath,andsneezeorcough,magnifiedthetorment.Shiftingaccidentallyinmysleepandbumpingthedamagedearsentmestartingupfromthecotwithashoutthatwokeeverymanforfiftymetresaround.
Andthen,afterthreeweeksofthatmaddening,torturouspainandmassive,self-medicateddosesofpenicillinandhotantibioticwashes,thewoundhealedandthepainrecededfrommejustasmemoriesdo,likelandmarksonadistant,foggyshore.
Myhandshealedaroundthedeadenedtissueontheknucklejoints.
Trulyfrozentissueneverreallyheals,ofcourse,andtheinjurywasoneofmanythatsettledinmyfleshinthoseexileyears.ItookthesufferingfromKhader’smountainintomyhands,andeverycolddaysendsmebacktherewithmyhandsaching,justastheydidwhenIclutchedatthegunbeforethebattle.
Nevertheless,inthewarmerairofPakistanmyfingersflexedandmovedandobeyedme.MyhandswerereadyfortheworkIhadwaiting;thelittlematterofrevengeinBombay.Althoughmybodywasthinneraftertheordeal,itwasharderandtougherthanithadbeenallthoseplumpmonthsbefore,whenwe’dfirstsetoutforKhader’swar.
NazeerandMahmoudorganisedourreturntripbyaseriesofconnectingtrains.They’dacquiredasmallarsenalofweaponsinPakistan,andwereintentonsmugglingthemintoBombay.Theyconcealedthegunsinbalesoffabric,andshippedtheminthecareofthreeAfghanswhowerefluentinHindi.Werodeindifferentcarriages,andneveracknowledgedthemen,buttheillicitcargowasalwaysonourminds.Theironyofit-we’dsetofftosmugglegunsintoAfghanistan,andwewerereturningtosmugglegunsintoBombay-mademelaugh,whenitoccurredtome,asIsatinmyfirst-classcarriage.Butthelaughterwasbitter,andtheexpressionitleftonmyfaceturnedtheeyesofmyfellowpassengersaway.
IttookusalittleovertwodaystogetbacktoBombay.IwastravellingonmyfalseBritishbook,theoneI’dusedtoenterPakistan.Accordingtotheentriesinthebook,I’doverstayedonmyvisa.UsingthelittlesmilingcharmIcouldmusterandthelastofthemoneyKhaderhadpaidme,thelastAmericandollars,IbribedtheofficialsonboththePakistaniandIndiansidesoftheborderwithoutraisingsomuchastheflickerofaneye.Andanhourafterdawn,eightmonthsafterwelefther,wewalkedintothedeepheatandfrantic,toilingfervencyofmybelovedBombay.
Fromadiscreetdistance,NazeerandMahmoudMelbaafsupervisedtheunloadingandtransportoftheirmilitarycargo.PromisingNazeerthatIwouldmeetupwithhimthatnightatLeopold’s,Ileftthematthestation.
Itookacab.Ifeltdrunkonthesoundandcolourandgorgeousflowingkinesisoftheislandcity.ButIhadtoconcentrate.Iwasalmostoutofmoney.Idirectedthedrivertotheblackmarketcurrency-collectioncentreintheFortarea.Withthetaxiwaitingbelow,Iranupthethreenarrowwoodenflightstothecountingroom.AmemoryofKhaledwrungoutmyheart-IusedtorunupthesestairswithKhaled,withKhaled,withKhaled-andIclenchedmyjawagainstit,justasIbitdownonthepaininmywoundedshins.Thetwobigmen,loiteringwithintentonthelandingoutsidetheroom,recognisedme.Weshookhands,allofussmilingwidely.
“What’sthenewsofKhaderbhai?”oneofthemenasked.
Ilookedintohistoughyoungface.HisnamewasAmir.IknewhimtobebraveandreliableanddevotedtotheKhan.Fortheblinkofaneyeitseemed,incredibly,thathewasmakingajokeaboutKhader’sdeath,andIfeltaquick,angryimpulsetostiffenhim.
ThenIrealisedthathesimplydidn’tknow.Howisthatpossible?
Whydon’ttheyknow!Instincttoldmenottoanswerhisquestion.
Iheldmyeyesandmymouthinahard,impassivelittlesmile,andbrushedpasthimtoknockatthedoor.Ashort,fat,baldingmaninawhitesingletanddhotiopenedthedoorandthrustouthishandsatonceinadoublehandshake.ItwasRajubhai,controllerofthecurrencycollectionsforAbdelKhaderKhan’smafiacouncil.Hepulledmeintotheroom,andclosedthedoor.Thecountingroomwasthecoreofhispersonalandbusinessuniverse,andhespenttwentyoutofeverytwentyfourhoursthere.Thethin,faded,pink-whitecordacrosshisshoulder,underhissinglet,declaredthathewasadevoutHindu,oneofmanywhoworkedwithinAbdelKhader’slargelyMuslimempire.
“Linbaba!Sogoodtoseeyou!”hesaidwithahappygrin.
“Khaderbhaikahanhain?”WhereisKhaderbhai?
Istruggledtokeepthesurprisefrommyface.Rajubhaiwasaseniorman.Heheldaseatatthecouncilmeetings.Ifhedidn’tknowthatKhaderwasdead,thennobodyinthecitywouldknow.
AndifKhader’sdeathwasstillasecret,thenMahmoudandNazeermust’veinsistedonthesuppressionofthenews.Theyhadn’tsaidanythingtomeaboutit.Icouldn’tunderstandit.Whatevertheirreasons,Idecidedtosupportthemandtokeepmysilenceonthematter.
“Humakelahain,”Ireplied,returninghissmile.I’malone.
Itwasn’tananswertohisquestion,andhiseyesnarrowedontheword.
“Akela…”herepeated.Alone…
“Yes,Rajubhai,andIneedsomemoney,fast.I’vegotataxiwaiting.”
“Youneeddollars,Lin?”
“Dollarsnahin.Sirfrupia.”Notdollars.Onlyrupees.
“Howmuchyouneed?”
“Do-do-teenhazaar,”Ianswered,usingtheslangphrasetwo-twothreethousand,whichalwaysmeansthree.
“Teenhazaar!”hehuffed,morefromhabitthananyrealconcern.
Threethousandrupeeswasaconsiderablesumtothestreetrunners,orintheslums,butitwasatriflingamountinthecontextoftheblack-marketcurrencytrade.Rajubhai’sofficecollectedahundredtimesthatmuchandmoreeveryday,andhe’doftenpaidmesixtythousandrupeesatatimeasmywageandmyshareofcommissions.
“Abi,bhai-ya,abi!”Now,brother,now!
Rajubhaiturnedhisheadandgestured,withatwitchofhiseyebrows,tooneofhisclerks.Themanhandedoverthreethousandrupeesinusedbutcleanhundred-rupeenotes.Rifflingthesmallbundlefirst,fromhabit,asadoublecheck,Rajubhaihandedthenotesacross.Ipeeledofftwonotestoputinmyshirtpocket,andpushedtherestinsideadeeperpocketinmylongvest.
“Shukria,chacha,”Ismiled.“Mainjatahu.”Thanks,uncle.I’mgoing.
“Lin!”hecried,stoppingmebygraspingatmysleeve.“HamarabetaKhaled,kaisahain?”Howisourson,Khaled?
“Khaledisnotwithus,”Isaid,strugglingtokeepmyvoiceandmyexpressionneutral.“Hewentonajourney,ayatra,andIdon’tknowwhenwe’llseehim.”
Itookthestepstwoatatimeonthewaydowntothecab,feelingtheshockofeachjumpshudderintomyshins.Thedriverswungoutintothetrafficatonce,andIdirectedhimtoaclothingshopthatIknewontheColabaCauseway.OneofthesybariticsplendoursofBombayisthelimitlessvarietyofrelativelyinexpensive,well-madeclothesconstantlychangingtoreflectthenewestIndianandforeigntrends.Intherefugeecamp,MahmoudMelbaafhadgivenmealong,blue-sergevest,awhiteshirt,andcoarsebrowntrousers.TheclotheshadservedforthetripfromQuetta,butinBombaytheyweretoohotandtoostrange:theydrewcuriousattentiontomewhenIneededthecamouflageofcurrentfashion.Ichoseapairofblackjeanswithstrong,deeppockets,anewpairofjoggerstoreplacemyruinedboots,andaloose,whitesilkshirttowearoverthejeans.Ichangedinthedressingroom,slidingmyknifeinitsscabbardunderthebeltofmyjeansandconcealingitwiththeshirt.
Whilewaitingatthecashier’sdesk,Icaughtsightofmyselfunexpectedlyinanangledmirrorthatshowedmyfaceinthreequarterprofile.Itwasafacesohardandunfamiliarthatitstartledmetorecogniseitasmyown.IrememberedthephotographtakenbyshyKishmishi,andlookedagainintothemirror.Therewasacoldimpassivenessinmyface-andadetermination,perhaps-whichhadn’tevenbeguntogleamintheeyesthathadstaredsoconfidentlyintothelensofKhaled’scamera.Isnatchedupmysunglassesandputthemon.HaveIchangedsomuch?Ihopedthatahotshower,andshavingoffmythickbeard,wouldsoftensomeofthehardedges.Buttherealhardnesswasinsideme,andIwasn’tsureifitwassimplytoughandtenaciousorifitwassomethingmuchmorecruel.
ThecabdriverfollowedmyinstructionsandpulledupneartheentrancetoLeopold’s.Ipaidhim,andstoodonthebusyCausewayforaminute,staringatthewidedoorwayoftherestaurantwheremyfatedconnectiontoKarlaandKhaderbhaihadreallybegun.Everydoorisaportalleadingthroughtimeaswellasspace.Thesamedoorwaythatleadsusintoandoutofaroomalsoleadsusintothepastoftheroomanditsceaselesslyunfoldingfuture.Peopleknewthatonce,deepwithintheur-mind,theur-imagination.Youcanstillfindthosewhodecoratedoorways,andreverentlysalutethem,ineveryculture,fromIrelandtoJapan.Isteppedupone,twosteps,andreachedoutwithmyrighthandtotouchthedoorjambandthentouchmychest,overtheheart,inasalaamtofateandahomagetothedeadfriendsandenemieswhoenteredwithme.
DidierLevywassittinginhisusualchair,commandingaviewofthepatronsandofthebusystreetbeyond.HewastalkingtoKavitaSingh.Hereyeswereaverted,buthelookedupandsawmeasIapproachedthetable.Oureyesmetandheldforasecond,eachofusreadingtheother’sshiftingexpressionslikedivinersfindingmeaningsinthemagicofscatteredbones.
“Lin!”heshouted,hurlinghimselfforward,flinginghisarmsaroundme,andkissingmeonbothcheeks.
“It’sgoodtoseeyou,Didier.”
“Bah!”hespat,wipinghislipswiththebackofhishand.“Ifthisbeardisthefashionforholywarriors,IthankwhateverpowersprotectmethatIamanatheist,andacoward!”
Therewasalittlemoregrey,Ithought,inthemopofdarkcurlsthatbrushedthecollarofhisjacket.Thepaleblueeyeswerealittlemoretired,alittlemorebloodshot.Yetthewicked,leeringmischiefstillarchedhiseyebrow,andtheplayfulsneerIknewsowell,andloved,wasstillthere,curlinghisupperlip.Hewasthesameman,inthesamecity,anditwasgoodtobehome.
“Hello,Lin,”Kavitagreetedme,pushingDidierasidetogivemeahug.
Shewasbeautiful.Herthick,darkbrownhairwastousledandawry.Herbackwasstraight.Hereyeswereclear.And,assheheldme,thecasual,friendlytouchofherfingersonmyneckseemedlikesuchatenderravishment-afterthebloodandsnowofAfghanistan-thatIcanstillfeelit,throughalltheyearssince.
“Sitdown,sitdown!”Didiershouted,wavingtothewaitersformoredrinks.“Merde,Iheardthatyouweredead,butIdidn’tbelieveit!Itissogoodtoseeyou!Weshallbefamouslydrunktonight,non?”
“No,”Ireplied,resistingthepressureheplacedonmyshoulder.
Thedisappointmentinhiseyesmoderatedmytone,ifnotmymood.
“It’salittleearlyintheday,andIhavetogetgoing.I’vegot…somethingtodo.”
“Verywell,”heyieldedwithasigh.“Butyoumusthaveonedrinkwithme.Itwouldbetoouncivilisedforyoutoleavemycompanywithoutallowingmeatleastthislittlecorruptionofyourholywarringself.Afterall,whatisthepointofamanreturningfromthedead,ifitisnottodrinkstrongspiritswithhisfriends?”
“Okay,”Irelented,smilingathimbutstillstanding.“Onedrink.I’llhaveawhisky.Makeitadouble.Isthatcorruptenoughforyou?”
“Ah,Lin,”hegrinned,“Isthereanyone,inthissicklysweetworldofours,whoiscorruptenoughforme?”
“Wherethere’saweakwill,there’saway,Didier.Weliveinhope.”
“Butofcourse,”hesaid,andwebothlaughed.
“I’llleaveyoutoit,”Kavitaannounced,leaningovertokissmycheek.“I’vegottogetbacktotheoffice.Let’sgettogether,Lin.Youlook…youlookprettywild.Youlooklikeastory,yaar,ifeverIsawone.”
“Sure,”Ismiled.“There’sastoryortwo.Offtherecord,ofcourse.Probablykeepusgoingoverdinner.”
“Ilookforwardtoit,”shesaid,holdingmyeyelongenoughtomakesureIfeltitinseveralplacesatonce.ShebrokethecontacttoflashasmileatDidier.“Benastytosomeoneforme,Didier.Idon’twanttohearthatyou’vegotallsentimental,yaar,justbecauseLinisback.”
Shewalkedoutwithmyeyesonher,andwhenthedrinksarrivedDidierinsistedthatIsitdownwithhimatlast.
“Mydearfriend,youcanstandtoeatameal-ifyoumust-andyoucanstandtomakelove-ifyouareable-butitisimpossibletostandanddrinkwhisky.Itistheactofabarbarian.Amanwhostandsuptodrinkanoblealcohollikewhisky,inallbutatoasttosomenoblethingorpurpose,isabeast-amanwhowillstopatnothing.”
Sowesat,andheraisedhisglassimmediatelytotoastwithmine.
“Totheliving!”heoffered.
“Andthedead?”Iasked,myglassstillonthetable.
“Andthedead!”hereplied,hissmilewideandwarm.
Iraisedmyglassinturn,clinkeditagainsthis,andthrewbackthedouble.
“Now,”hesaidfirmly,thesmilediscardedasswiftlyasithadrisentohiseyes.“Whatisthetrouble?”“Wheredoyouwantmetostart?”Iscoffed.
“No,myfriend.Iamnottalkingjustaboutthewar.Thereissomethingelse,somethingverydeterminedinyourface,andIwanttoknowtheheartofit.”
Istaredbackathiminsilence,secretlydelightedtobebackinthecompanyofsomeonewhoknewmewellenoughtoreadbetweenthefrownlines.
“Comeon,Lin.Thereistoomuchtroubleinyoureyes.Whatistheproblem?Ifyouwant,ifitiseasier,youcanbeginbytellingmewhathappenedinAfghanistan.”
“Khader’sdead,”Isaidflatly,staringattheemptyglassinmyhand.
“No!”hegasped,fearfulandresentful,somehow,inthesamequickresponse.
“Yes.”
“No,no,no.Iwouldhearsomething…Thewholecitywouldknowit.”
“Isawhisbody.Ihelpedtodragitupthemountaintoourcamp.
Ihelpedthemburyhim.He’sdead.They’realldead.We’retheonlyonesleftfromhere-Nazeer,Mahmoud,andme.”
“AbdelKhader…Itcan’tbe…”
Didierwasashen-faced,andthegreyseemedtomoveevenintohiseyes.Strickenbythenews-helookedasthoughsomeonehadstruckhimhardontheface-heslumpedinhischairandhisjawfellopen.Hebegantoslipsidewaysinthechair,andIwasafraidthathewouldfalltothefloororevensufferastroke.
“Takeiteasy,”Isaidsoftly.“Don’tgotofuckin’piecesonme,Didier.Youlooklikeshit,man.Snapoutofit!”
Hiswearyeyesdrifteduptomeetmine.
“Therearesomethings,Lin,thatsimplycannotbe.Iamtwelve,thirteenyearsinBombay,andalwaysthereisAbdelKhaderKhan…”
Hedroppedhisgazeagain,andlapsedintoareveriesorichinthoughtandfeelingthathisheadtwitchedandhislowerliptrembledintheturbulenceofit.Iwasworried.I’dseenmengounderbefore.Inprison,I’dwatchedmensuccumb,fragmentedbyfearandshame,andthenslaughteredbysolitude.Butthatwasaprocess:ittookweeks,months,oryears.Didier’scollapsewastheworkofseconds,andIwaswatchinghimcrumpleandfadefromoneheartbeattothenext.
Imovedaroundthetableandsatbesidehim,pullinghimclosetomewithanarmaroundhisshoulder.
“Didier!”Ihissedinaharshwhisper.“I’vegottogo.Doyouhearme?Icameintofindoutaboutmystuff-thestuffIleftwithyouwhileIwasatNazeer’s,gettingoffthedope.Remember?
Ileftmybike,myEnfield,withyou.Ileftmypassportsandmymoneyandsomeotherstuff.Doyouremember?It’sveryimportant.
Ineedthatstuff,Didier.Doyouremember?”
“Yes,butofcourse,”hereplied,comingtohimselfwithagrumpylittleshakeofhisjaw.“Yourthingsareallsafe.Havenofearofthat.Ihaveallyourthings.”
“DoyoustillhavetheapartmentinMerriweatherRoad?”
“Yes.”
“Isthatwheremythingsare?Doyouhavemythingsthere?”
“What?”
“ForGod’ssake,Didier!Snapoutofit!Comeon.We’regoingtogetuptogetherandwalktoyourapartment.Ineedtoshaveandshowerandgetorganised.I’vegotsomething…somethingimportanttodo.Ineedyou,man.Don’tfuckuponmenow!”
Heblinked,andturnedhisheadtolookatme,hisupperlipcurlinginthefamiliarsneer.
“Whatisthemeaningofsucharemark?”hedemandedindignantly.
“DidierLevydoesnotfuckuponanyone!Unless,ofcourse,itisvery,veryearlyinthemorning.Youknow,Lin,howIhatemorningpeople,almostasmuchasIhatethepolice.Alors,let’sgo!”
AtDidier’sapartmentIshaved,showered,andchangedintothenewclothes.DidierinsistedthatIeatsomething.HecookedanomelettewhileIwentthroughthetwoboxesofmybelongingstofindmystashofmoney-aboutninethousandAmericandollars-thekeystomybike,andmybestfalsepassport.ItwasaCanadianbook,withmyphotoanddetailsinsertedinit.Thefalsetouristvisahadexpired.Ihadtorenewitquickly.IfanythingwentwronginwhatIplannedtodo,Iwouldneedplentyofmoneyandagood,cleanbook.
“Whereareyougoingnow?”DidieraskedasIpushedthelastforkfuloffoodintomymouth,andstoodtorinsethedishesinthesink.
“First,Ihavetofixupmypassport,”Iansweredhim,stillchewing.“ThenI’mgoingtoseeMadameZhou.”
“Youwhat?”“I’mgoingtodealwithMadameZhou.I’mgoingtocleartheslate.Khaledgave…”Ibrokeoff,thewordsfailing,andthethoughtofKhaledAnsarimomentarilybleachingmymindwiththementionofhisname.Itwasawhiteblizzardofemotionstormingfromthelastmemory,thelastimageofhim,walkingawayintothenightandthesnow.Ipushedpastitwithaneffortofwill.
“KhaledgavemeyournoteinPakistan.Thanksforlettingmeknow,bytheway.Istilldon’treallygetit.Istilldon’tknowhowshegotsomadthatshehadtoputmeinjail.Therewasneveranythingpersonalinit,frommyside.Butit’spersonalnow.FourmonthsinArthurRoadmadeitpersonal.That’swhyIneedthebike.Idon’twanttousecabs.Andthat’swhyI’vegottogetmypassporttidiedup.Ifthecopsgetinonit,I’llneedacleanbooktohandover.”
“Butyoudon’tknow?MadameZhouwasattackedlastweek-no,tendaysago.Themob,amobofSenapeople,theyattackedherPalaceanddestroyedit.Therewasagreatfire.Theyraninsidethebuildingandtheydestroyedeverything,thentheyputtheplaceonfire.Thebuildingstillstands.Thestaircasesandtheupstairsroomsstillexist.Buttheplaceisruined,anditwillneveragainopen.Theywillpullitdownatsometimesoon.Thebuildingisfinished,Lin,andsoisshe,LaMadame.”
“Isshedead?”Iaskedthroughclenchedteeth.
“No.Sheisalive.Andsheisstillthere,sotheysay.Butherpowerisdestroyed.Shehasnothing.Sheisnothing.Sheisabeggar.Herservantsaresearchingthestreetsforscrapsoffoodtobringtoherwhileshewaitsforthebuildingtocomedown.
Sheisfinished,Lin.”
“Notquite.Notyet.”
Imovedtothedoorofhisapartment,andherantojoinme.ItwasthefastestI’deverseenhimmove,andIsmiledatthestrangenessofit.
“Please,Lin,willyounotreconsiderthisaction?Wecansithere,together,anddrinkabottleortwo,non?Youwillcalmdown.”
“I’mcalmenoughnow,”Ireplied,smilingathisconcernforme.
“Idon’tknow…whatI’mgoingtodo.ButIhavetoclosethedooronthis,Didier.Ican’tjust…letitgo.IwishIcould.
Butthere’stoomuchthat’s-Idon’tknow-tiedupinit,Iguess.”
Icouldn’texplainittohim.Itwasmorethanjustrevenge-Iknewthat-butthewebofconnectionsbetweenZhou,Khaderbhai,Karla,andmewassostickywithshameandsecretsandbetrayalsthatIcouldn’tbringmyselftofaceitclearlyortalkaboutittomyfriend.“Bien,”hesighed,readingthedeterminationinmyface.“Ifyoumustgotoher,thenIwillcomewithyou.”
“Noway-”Ibegan,buthecutmeoffwithafuriousgestureofhishand.
“Lin!Iamtheonewhotoldyouofthis…thishorriblethingshedidtoyou.NowImustgowithyou,orIwillberesponsibleforallthathappens.Andyouknow,myfriend,thatIhateresponsibilityalmostasmuchasIhatethepolice.”
____________________
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
DidierLevywastheworstpillionpassengerI’veeverknown.Heheldontomesotightly,andwithsuchrigidtensity,thatitwasdifficulttosteerthebike.Hehowledasweapproachedcars,andshriekedwhenwespeduptopassthem.Oncritical,sweepingturnshewriggledinterror,tryingtostraightenthebikefromitsnecessaryleanintothecurve.EverytimeIstoppedthebikeatatrafficsignal,heputbothfeetdowntothegroundtostretchhislegsandmoanaboutthecrampsinhiships.EverytimeIacceleratedaway,hedraggedhisfeetontheroadandfidgetedforseveralsecondsuntilhefoundthefootrests.Andwhentaxisorothercarsventuredtooclosetous,hekickedoutatthemorwavedhisfistinfranticoutrage.Bythetimewereachedourdestination,Icalculatedthatthedangerfacedduringathirty-minuterideinfasttrafficwithDidierwasroughlyequivalenttoamonthunderfireinAfghanistan.
IpulledupoutsidethefactoryrunbymySriLankanfriendsVilluandKrishna.Somethingwaswrong.Thesignsoutsidehadchanged,andthedoublefrontdoorswerewideopen.Iwentupthestepsandleanedinsidetoseethatthepassportworkshopwasgone,replacedbyanassemblylineproducinggarlandsofflowers.
“Thereissomethingwrong?”DidieraskedasIclimbedbackonthebikeandkickedthestarter.
“Yeah.Wehavetomakeanotherstop.They’vemovedit.I’llhavetoseeAbdultofindoutwherethenewworkshopis.”
“Alors,”hewhined,squeezingmeastightlyasifweweresharingaparachute.“Thenightmare,itgoeson!”
MinuteslaterIlefthimwiththebikeneartheentrancetoAbdulGhani’smansion.Thewatchmanatthestreetdoorrecognisedme,andsnappedhishandupinatheatricalsalute.Iputatwentyrupeenoteinhisotherhandasheopenedthedoor,andIsteppedintothecool,shadowedfoyertobegreetedbytwoservants.Theyknewmewell,andledmeupstairswithwide,friendlysmilesandalittlemime-showofcommentsonthelengthofmyhairandtheweightI’dlost.OneofthemenknockedonthedoorofAbdulGhani’slargestudy,andwaitedwithhiseartothedoor.
“Ao!”Ghanicalledfromwithin.Come!
Theservantentered,closingthedoorbehindhim,andreturnedafewmomentslater.Hewaggedhisheadatmeandopenedthedoorwide.Iwalkedinside,andthedoorclosed.Brilliantsunshineblazedatthehigh,archedwindows.Shadowsreachedinspikesandclawsacrossthepolishedfloor.Abdulwassittinginawingchairthatfacedthewindow,andonlyhisplumphandswerevisible,steepledtogetherlikesausagesinabutcher’swindow.
“Soit’strue.”
“What’strue?”Iasked,walkingaroundthechairtolookathim.
Iwasshockedtoseehowthemonths,theninemonthssinceI’dseenhim,hadagedKhader’soldfriend.Thethickhairwasgreytowhite,andhiseyebrowswerefrostedwithsilver.Thefinenosewaspinchedbydeeplinesthatsweptpastthecurveofhismouthtoasaggingjaw.Hislips,oncethemostsumptuouslysensualI’dseeninBombay,wereassplitandcrackedasNazeer’shadbeeninthesnowmountains.Thepouchesbeneathhiseyesdroopedpastthepeakofhischeekbonesandremindedme,withashiver,ofthosethathaddraggeddowntheeyesofthemadmanHabib.Andtheeyes-thelaughing,golden,ambereyes-weredull,anddrainedofthesoaringjoysandvaindeceitsthatoncehadshoneinhispassionatelife.
“Youarehere,”herepliedinthefamiliarOxfordaccent,withoutlookingatme.“Andthatisthetruth.WhereisKhader?”
“Abdul,I’msorry-he’sdead.”Iansweredatonce.“He…hewaskilledbytheRussians.Hewastryingtoreachhisvillage,onthewaybacktoChaman,todeliversomehorses.”
Abdulclutchedathischestandsobbedlikeachild,mewlingandmoaningincoherentlyasthetearsrolledfatandfreelyfromhislargeeyes.Afterafewmomentsherecovered,andlookedupatme.
“Whosurvivedwithyou?”heasked,hismouthagape.
“Nazeer…andMahmoud.AndaboynamedAla-ud-Din.Onlyfourofus.”“NotKhaled?WhereisKhaled?”
“He…hewentoutintothesnowonthelastnight,andhenevercameback.Themensaidtheyheardshooting,later,fromalongwayoff.Idon’tknowifitwasKhaledtheywereshootingat.I…Idon’tknowwhathappenedtohim.”
“ThenitwillbeNazeer…”hemuttered.
Thesobbingspilledoveragain,andheplungedhisfaceintohisfleshyhands.Iwatchedhimuncomfortably,notknowingwhattodoorsay.SincethemomentthatI’dcradledKhader’sbodyinmyarmsonthesnowyslopeofthemountain,I’drefusedtofacethefactofhisdeath.AndIwasstillangrywithKhaderKhan.SolongasIheldthatangerbeforemelikeashield,lovingKhaderandgrievingforhimweredeepanddistantwondersofmyheart.
SolongasIwasangry,IcouldfightoffthetearsandmiserablelongingthatmadeGhanisowretched.SolongasIwasangry,Icouldconcentrateonthejobathand-informationaboutKrishna,Villu,andthepassportworkshop.Iwasonthepointofaskinghimaboutthemwhenhespokeagain.
“Doyouknowwhatitcostus-apartfromhis…hisuniquelife–Khader’sherocurse?Millions.Itcostusmillionstofighthiswar.We’vebeensupportingit,inonewayandanother,foryears.
Youmightthinkwecouldaffordit.Thesumisnotsogreat,afterall.Butyou’rewrong.ThereisnoorganisationthatcansupportsuchaninsaneherocurseasKhader’s.AndIcouldn’tchangehismind.Icouldn’tsavehim.Themoneydidn’tmeananythingtohim,don’tyousee?Youcan’treasonwithamanwhohasnosenseofmoneyandits…itsvalue.It’stheonethingallcivilisedmenhaveincommon,don’tyouagree?Ifmoneydoesn’tmeananything,thereisnocivilisation.Thereisnothing.”
Hetrailedoffintoindecipherablemumbles.Tearsrolledintothelittleriverstheyfoundonhischeeks,anddroppedthroughtheyellowlightintohislap.
“Abdulbhai,”Isaid,afteratime.
“What?When?Isitnow?”heasked,terrorsuddenlybrightinhiseyes.HislowerlipstiffenedinacruelcurveofmaliceI’dneverseenorevenimaginedinhimbeforethatmoment.
“Abdulbhai,Iwanttoknowwhereyoumovedtheworkshop.WhereareKrishnaandVillu?Iwenttotheoldworkshop,butthere’sno-onethere.Ineedsomeworkonmybook.Ineedtoknowwhereyoumovedto.”Thefearshranktoapinpointinhiseyes,andtheyglitteredwithit.Hismouthswelledinsomethingliketheoldvoluptuarysmile,andhelookedintomyeyeswithavid,hungeringconcentration.
“Ofcourseyouwanttoknow,”hegrinned,usingthepalmsofhishandstowipeatthetears.“It’srighthere,Lin,inthishouse.
Werebuiltthecellar,andfitteditout.Thereisatrapdoorinthekitchenfloor.Iqbalwillshowyoutheway.Theboysareworkingtherenow.”
“Thanks,”Isaid,hesitatingamoment.“I’vegotajobtodo,but…I’llbebacklatertonight,ortomorrow,atthelatest.I’llseeyouthen.”
“Inshallah,”hesaidsoftly,turninghisfacetothewindowsoncemore.“Inshallah.”
Iwentdownthroughthehousetothekitchenandliftedtheheavytrapdoor.Adozenstepsledintothefloodlitcellar.KrishnaandVillugreetedmehappily,andwenttoworkonmypassportimmediately.Fewthingsexcitedthemmorethanacounterfeitingchallenge,andtheychatteredinaspiritedlittleargumentbeforeagreeingonthebestapproach
Whiletheyworked,IexaminedGhani’snewworkshop.Itwasalargespace-muchlargerthanthebasementofAbdulGhani’smansionalone.Iwalkedsomethirtytofiftymetrespastlighttables,printingmachines,photocopiers,andstoragecupboards.IguessedthatthebasementextendedbeneaththenextlargehouseinthestreetbesideGhani’s.Itseemedlikelythatthey’dboughtthehousenextdoor,andconnectedthetwocellars.Ifthatwereso,Iassumed,therewouldbeanotherexit,leadingintotheneighbouringhouse.IwassearchingforitwhenKrishnacalledtotellmethatmyrush-jobsvisawasready.Intriguedbythenewset-upbeneaththehouses,IpromisedmyselfthatassoonaspossibleIwouldreturnandinspecttheworkshopthoroughly.
“Sorrytokeepyou,”ImutteredtoDidierasIclimbedbackontothebike.“IttooklongerthanIexpected.Butthepassport’sdone.WecangostraighttoMadameZhou’snow.”
“Don’thurry,Lin,”Didiersighed,clutchingatmewithallhisstrengthaswemovedoutintothetraffic.“Thebestrevenge,likethebestsex,isperformedslowlyandwiththeeyesopen.”
“Karla?”Ishoutedovermyshoulder,asthebikeacceleratedintothemetalstream.
“Non,Ithinkit’smine!But…butIcan’tbesure!”heshoutedback,andwebothlaughedforloveofher.IparkedthebikeinthedrivewayofanapartmentbuildingablockawayfromthePalace.Wewalkedontheothersideoftheroaduntilwepassedthebuildingbyhalfablock,studyingitforsignsofactivitywithin.ThefacadeofthePalaceseemedintactandundamaged,althoughmetalandwoodensheetsonthewindows,andplanksnailedacrossthemaindoor,hintedatthedestructionthemobhadwroughtinside.Weturnedandwalkedback,passingthebuildingagainandsearchingforanentrance.
“Ifshe’sinthere,andifherservantsarebringingherfood,they’renotcomingandgoingthroughthatdoor.”
“Yes,exactlymyownthought,”heagreed.“Theremustbeanotherwayinside.”
Wefoundanarrowlanethatgaveaccesstotherearofthebuildingsinthestreet.Incontrasttotheproud,clean,mainstreet,theaccesslanewasfilthy.Westeppedcarefullybetweenrank,scum-coveredpoolsofblackliquid,andskirtedpilesofoily,unidentifiabledebris.IglancedatDidier,knowingfromhiswretchedgrimacethathewascalculatinghowmanydrinksitwouldtaketoridhimselfofthestenchthatfilledhisnostrils.
Thewallsandfencesoneithersideofthelaneweremadeofstone,brick,andcement,patchedtogetherovermanydecades,andswarmingwithawormywritheofplants,mosses,andcreepers.
Countingbackfromthecorner,buildingbybuilding,wefoundtherearofthePalaceandpressedonashortwoodengate,setintoahighstonewall.Thegateopenedatthetouch,andwesteppedintoaspaciousrearcourtyardthatmust’vebeenaluxuriousandbeautifulretreatbeforethemobhadattackedit.Heavyclaypotshadbeentoppledandshattered,theirburdensofearthandflowersspilledinmuddyconfusion.Gardenfurniturehadbeensmashedtokindling.Eventhepavingtileswerecrackedinmanyplaces,asifthey’dbeenstruckwithhammers.
Wefoundablackeneddoorthatledintothehouse.Itwasunlocked,andswunginwardwitharustycreakofcomplaint.
“Youwaithere.”Mytoneallowednopossibilityofprotest.“Keepwatchforme.Ifsomeonecomesinthroughthatgate,slowthemup,orgivemeasignal.”
“Asyousay,”hesighed.“Don’tbetoolong.Idon’tlikeithere.Bonnechance.”
Isteppedinside.Thedoorswungshutbehindme,andIwishedthatI’dthoughttobringatorch.Itwasdark,andthefloorwastreacherouslyclutteredwithbrokendishes,pots,pans,andothervesselsstrewnamidtheblacklumpsoffurnitureandfallenbeams.Ipickedmywayslowlythroughtheground-floorkitchenandonintoalongcorridorthatledtowardthefrontofthebighouse.Ipassedseveralroomsthatwereburned.Inoneofthem,thefirehadbeensofiercethatthefloorwasmissing,andthecharredbearersshowedthroughthegapsliketheribsofsomegreatanimal’sremains.
NearthefrontofthehouseIfoundthestairwaythatI’dtaken,yearsbefore,whenI’dcometherewithKarlatosaveLisaCarter.
TheComptonwallpaper,oncesorichincolourandtexture,wasscorchedandpeelingfromtheblisteredwalls.Thestairwayitselfwascarbonised,itscarpetscorchedtostringyclumpsofash.Iclimbedupslowly,testingeachstepbeforepressingdownwithmyfullweight.OnestepcollapsedbeneathmewhenIwashalfwaytothetop,andIscrambledupwardmorequicklytothelandingonthefirstfloor.
OntheupperlevelIhadtopausewhilemyeyesadjustedtothedarkness.AfterafewmomentsIcouldmakeoutthegapsinthefloor,andIbegantoinchmywayaroundthem.Thefirehadincineratedsomepartsofthehouse,leavingholesandblackenedstumps,whilesparingotherpartsofthehousealtogether.Thosepristinesectionsweresoclean,andsopreciselyasIrememberedthem,thattheyheightenedtheeeriestrangenessoftheplace.IfeltasifIwasmovingbetweenthepast,beforethefire,andtheruinedpresent:asifmyownmemorieswerecreatingthosegrandiose,unconsumedzonesinthehouse.
Somewayalongthatwidepassageontheupperlevelmyfootplungedthroughapaperysectionoffloor,andinmyhardreactionIdrovebackwardintothewallbehindme.ThewallitselfcollapsedandIfoundmyselffalling,inaclumsystumble,flayingoutwithmyhandstofindsomethingsolidtoclingtoamidthecrumblingrubble.Ilandedwithathump,muchmorequicklythanIexpected,andrealisedatoncethatIwasinsideoneofMadameZhou’ssecretcorridors.ThewallI’dfallenthroughappearedtobeassolidasalltheothers,butitwasmerelyaplywoodscreenpaperedoverwithherubiquitousComptonpattern.
Istoodupandbrushedmyselfoffinaverynarrow,lowcorridorthatsnakedahead,followingtheshapesandcornersoftheroomsitcircumscribed.Metalgratesweresetintothewallsoftheroomsthatthesecretcorridorpassed.Someofthemwerelow,nearthefloor,andotherswerehigher.Beneaththehighermetalgrateswereboxedsteps.FromthelowestofthosestepsIlookedintoaroomthroughtheheart-shapedgapsinthemetalgrille.Icouldseethewholeroombeyond:thecrackedmirroronthewall,theburnedandcollapsedbed,andtherustedmetalnightstandbesideit.
TherewereseveralstepsabovetheoneonwhichIstood,andIimaginedher,MadameZhou,crouchedthereonthetopmoststepandbreathingsilentlywhileshewatched,andwatched.
Thecorridorwoundthroughseveralturns,andIlostmybearings,unsureintheenshroudingdarknessifIfacedthefrontofthehouseortherear.Atonepointthesecretcorridorinclinedsharply.Iclimbedupwarduntilthehighermetalgrillesdisappeared,andIstumbledinthedarkuponaflightofsteps.
Feelingmywayupward,Iencounteredadoor.Itwasasmall,paneledwoodendoor-sosmallandperfectlyproportionedthatitmightVebeenfurnishedforachild’splayhouse.Itriedthedoorknob.Itturnedeasilyinmyhand.Ipusheditopen,andshrankbackimmediatelyattheinwardrushoflightfrombeyond.
Isteppedintoanatticroomlitbyarowoffourstained-glassdormerwindowsthatpeakedlikelittlechapelsandreachedoutovertheexternalroofofthehouse.Thefirehadreachedtheroom,butithadfailedtodestroyit.Thewallsweredarkened,splashedwithstreakyburn-shadows,andthefloorwasholedinplacestorevealadeepsandwichlayerbetweenitandtheceilingoftheroombelow.Partsofthelongroom,however,werequitesolidanduntouchedbytheflames.Inthoseislandsofexoticallycarpetedfloorandunblemishedwall-space,furniturestillstoodintactandunmarked.Andinthestiff,enwrappingarmsofathrone-likechair,herfacetwistedinamanicstare,wasMadameZhou.
AsIapproachedherIrealisedthatthemalevolentstarewasn’tdirectedatme.Shewasstaringwithhatredandspiteatsomepointinthepast,someplaceorpersonoreventthatheldhermindasfirmlyasachainholdsadancingbear.Herfacewasmadeupwithathicksmearandpowderingofcosmetics.Itwasamask-moretragic,forallitsdeludedexaggerations,thangrotesque.
Thepaintedmouthwasbiggerthanherownlips.Thescrawledeyebrowswerelargerthantherealones.Thedaubedcheekswerehigherthanthebonesbeneaththem.WhenIstoodnearenough,Isawthattherewasatrickleofdrooldripping,dripping,fromthecornerofhermouthintoherlap.Thesmellofalcohol,undilutedgin,wreathedherandcoiledintoothersmells,morefoulandsickening.Herhairwasalmostconcealedbyawig.Thethickcoilsoftheblack,pompadourwighungslightlyaskew,revealingtheshort,sparsegreyhairbeneath.Shewasdressedinagreensilkcheongsam.Theneckofthedresscoveredherthroatalmosttoherchin.Herlegswerefolded,withherfeetrestingontheseatofthechairbesideher.Theyweretinyfeet-thesizeofasmallchild’sfeet-enclosedinsoft,silkslippers.
Herhands,aslimpandexpressionlessasherslackmouth,layinherlaplikethingswasheduponadesertedshore.
Itwasimpossibleformetotellherageorhernationality.Shemight’vebeenSpanish.Shemight’vebeenRussian.Shemight’vebeenIndian,inpart,orChinese,orevenGreek.AndKarlawasright-shehadbeenbeautifulonce.Itwasthekindofbeautythatgrowsfromthesumofitspartsratherthanfromanyoneoutstandingfeature:abeautythatstrikestheeyeratherthantheheart,andabeautythatsoursifitisn’tnourishedbysomegoodnessfromwithin.Andshewasn’tbeautifulthen,inthatmoment.Shewasugly.AndDidierwasright,too:shewasbeatenandbrokenandfinished.Shewasfloatingontheblacklake,andsoonthedarkwaterwoulddragherunder.Therewasadeepsilencewherehermindusedtobe,andablank,uncravingemptinesswhereoncehercruelandscheminglifehadruled.
Standingthere,invisibletoher,IwasastonishedandbewilderedtorealisethatIfeltnotangryorvengeful,butashamed.IfeltashamedthatI’dfilledmyheartwithrevenge.Thepartofmethathadwantedto-What?HadIreallywantedtokillher?-wastheverypartthatwaslikeher.Ilookedather,andIknewthatIwaslookingatmyself,myownfuture,mydestiny,ifIcouldn’tridmyheartofitsvindictiveness.
AndIknew,aswell,thattherevengeI’dfedmyselfwithandplannedthroughtheweeksofmyrecuperationinPakistanwasnotmerelyhers,notonlyhers.Iwasstrikingoutatmyself,andataguiltIcouldonlyfaceinthatmomentofshameasIlookedather.ItwastheguiltIfeltforKhader’sdeath.IwashisAmerican-hisguaranteeagainstthewarlordsandpirates.IfI’dbeenwithhim,asIwassupposedtobe,whenhe’dtriedtotakethehorsestohisvillage,theenemymightnothavefiredonhim.
Itwasfoolishand,likemostguilt,itonlytoldonehalfofthestory.TherewereRussianuniformsandweaponsonsomeofthedeadaroundKhader’sbody:Nazeerhadtoldmethat.Mybeingthereprobablywouldn’thavechangedathing.Theywould’vecapturedmeorkilledme,andtheresultforKhaderwould’vebeenthesame.Butreasondidn’tplayabigpartintheguiltI’dfelt,deepinmyheart,sincethemomentI’dseenhisdeadfacebeneathitsshroudofsnow.OnceI’dfacedit,Icouldn’tshaketheshame.Andsomehow,theblameandrepiningsorrowchangedme.Ifeltthevengefulstonefallfromthehatinghandthathadwantedtothrowit.Ifeltlight,asiflightitselffilledmeandliftedmeup.
AndIfeltfree-freeenoughtopityMadameZhou,andeventoforgiveher.AndthenIheardthescream.
Aheart-piercingshriek,asshrillasawildpig’s,pulledmeroundjustintimetoseeRajan,MadameZhou’seunuchservant,runningatmeatfullspeed.Caughtoffbalancebythecharge,Istumbledbackwardwithhisarmswrappedaroundmychest,andwecrashedintoandthenthroughoneoftheatticwindows.Iwasleaningoutbackwards,lookingupunderblueskyatthecrazedservantandtheeavesofthehousebehindhishead.Ifelttheunmistakablecoldtrickleofbloodonthetopandthebackofmyheadwherethebrokenglasshadmadedeepcuts.Moreglassfellinjaggedshardsaswewrestledinthesmashedwindow,andIshookmyheadfromsidetosidetosavemyeyes.Rajanclungtomeanddroveforwardwithhisfeetinaweird,runningshufflethatgainedhimnospaceatall.Ittookmeamomenttounderstandthathewastryingtopushmeoutthroughthewindow-topushusbothout,intothebigfall.Anditwasworking.Ifeltmyfeetbeginningtoliftoffthefloorunderthepressureofhiseffort,andIslippedfurtheroutthroughthelittlesteepleofthedormerwindow.
Growlingwithfuryanddesperation,Iclutchedatthewindowframeanddraggedusbackintotheatticwithallmystrength.
Rajanfellbackward,andscrambledtohisfeetwithastonishingspeedtorunshriekingatmeagain.Therewasnowaytosteparoundhisquickcharge,soweclosedagaininamurderousgrapple.Hishandslockedonmythroat.Mylefthandclawedathisface,lookingfortheeye.Hislong,curvedfingernailsweresharp,andtheypiercedtheskinofmyneck.Shoutingfromthepain,Ifoundhisearwiththefingersofmylefthand,andusedittopullhisheadcloseenoughtopunchwithmyright.Ihammeredmyfistintohisface,six,seven,eighttimesuntilhewrenchedfreefromme,tearingtheearhalfawayfromhishead.
Hefellbackastepandstoodthere,pantingheavilyandglaringatmewithahatredthatwasbeyondreasonorfear.Hisfacewasbloody.Hislipsweresplitintoabrokentooth,andtheskinoveroneeye,wheretheeyebrowhadbeenshavedoff,hadopenedupinanuglycut.Hisbaldheadwascutandbleedingwherehe’dcrashedthroughtheglass.Thebloodwasinoneeye,andIguessedthathisnosewasbroken.Heshould’vequit.Hehadtoquit.Hedidn’t.
Shrieking,shrillandweird,heranatme.Isidesteppedandslammedahard,shortrighthandintothesideofhishead,buthereachedoutwithhisclawedhandashefell,andclutchedatmytrousers.Hismomentumpulledusbothdownandthenhescrambled,crab-like,tocoverme,reachingoutformyneck.Oncemoretheclawsbitintomyshoulderandmythroat.
Hewaslean,buthewasstrongandtall.I’dlostsomuchweightinKhader’swarthatwewereevenlymatchedforstrength.Irolledonce,twice,butcouldn’tshakehim.Hisheadwastuckedinclosetomine,andIcouldn’tpunchathim.Ifelthismouthandhisteethagainstmyneck.Hewasstrainingforward,buttingheadswithmeandbiting.Hislong,sharpclawspuncturedmythroattothestubsofhisfingers.
Ireacheddownandfoundmyknife.Ipulleditoutandaround,andrammeditintohisbody.Thebladewentintohisthigh,highupnearthehip.Heraisedhisheadinahowlofpain,andIstabbedhimintheneck,closetotheshoulder.Theknifewentinthroughthefrontanddeepintotheshoulder,crunchinganedgeofboneandgristleontheway.Hescrabbledathisthroat,androlledawayfrommeuntilhisbodymetthewall.Hewasbeaten.
Therewasnofightleftinhim.Itwasover.AndthenIheardthescream.
IjerkedmyheadaroundtoseeRajancreepingoutofthegapbetweenthebrokenfloorandtheceilingoftheroombelow.Itwasthesameman,orsoitseemed,butwholeandunharmed:thesamebaldhead,shavedeyebrows,decoratedeyes,andclawedfingernailspaintedasgreenasagrasssnake.IswungroundquicklytoseethatRajanwasstillthere,curledinamoaningheapagainstthewall.It’satwin,Ithoughtstupidly.There’stwoofthem.Whydidn’tanyonetellme?AndIturnedagain,justasthescreechingtwinrushedatme.Thesecondonehadaknifeinhishand.
Heheldthethin,curvedbladelikeasword,sweepingitinaviciousarcasheran.Iallowedhisfrenziedsweeptopassandthensteppedinclose,jabbingdownwardwithmyownknife.Itcuthisarmandshoulder,buthewasstillfreetomove.Hisknifeslashedbackwardtowardme.Hewasfast-fastenoughtocutmyforearm.Bloodranquicklyfromthewound,andragepulledmeintohimwithmyrightfistpunchingandjabbingwiththeknife.Thenasuddenblack,bloodtastingpaincrashedintothebackofmyhead,andIknewI’dbeenhitfrombehind.Iscrambledpastthetwin,andtwistedroundtoseewoundedRajan,hisshirtpaintedonhisskinwithhisownblood.Therewasalumpofwoodinhishand.Myheadwasringingwiththeforceoftheblowhe’dstruck.Bloodwasrunningfromwoundsonmyhead,myneck,myshoulder,andthesoftinsideofmyforearm.Thetwinsbeganwailingagain,andIknewtheywereabouttomakeanewcharge.Atinyseedofdoubtripenedandburstopeninmymindforthefirsttimesincethebizarrecontesthadbegun:Imightnotwinthis…
Igrinnedatthem,shapingupfortheirchargewithmyfistshighandmyleftfootforward.Okay,Ithought.Let’sgo.Let’sfinishit.Theyranatme,keeningthathigh-pitchedscreamagain.Theonewiththelumpofwood,Rajan,swungitatme.Iraisedmyleftarmtoblocktheblow.Itcamedownhardonmyshoulder,butIrammedmyrightfistintohisfaceandhefellbackward,hiskneesfoldingbeforehehitthefloor.Hisbrotherslashedatmyfacewiththeknife.Iduckedandweaved,buttheknifecutmyheadattheback,abovetheneck.Icameupunderhisguardandjammedmyknifeintohisshoulder,allthewaytothecrank.I’daimedforhischest,butitwasstillausefulwoundbecausehisarmbelowtheknifewentaslimpasseaweed,andhescreechedawayfrommeinpanic.
Yearsofangerbrokethrough:alltheprison-angerI’dburiedintheshallowgraveofmyresentfulself-control.Thebloodrunningdownmyfacefromthecutsandgashesonmyheadwasliquidanger,thickandredandspillingfrommymind.Afuriousstrengthrippedthemusclesofmyarms,shoulders,andback.IlookedfromRajanandhistwintotheimbecileinthechair.Killthemall,Ithought,draggingtheairinthroughclenchedteeth,andgrowlingitoutagain.I’llkillthemall.
Iheardsomeonecallingme,callingme,callingmebackfromtheedgeoftheabyssintowhichHabib,andallthoselikehim,hadplunged.
“Lin!Whereareyou,Lin?”
“Inhere,Didier!”Ishoutedback.“Intheattic!You’reveryclose!Canyouhearme?”
“Ihearyou!”heshouted.“I’mcomingatonce.”
“Becareful!”Icalledback,panting.“There’stwoguysuphere,andthey’re…fuck,man…they’renonetoofriendly!”
Iheardthesoundofhisfootsteps,andIheardhimcurseashestumbledinthedark.Hepushedopenthelittledoorandstoopedtoentertheroom.Therewasaguninhishand,andIwasgladtoseehim.Iwatchedhisfaceashequicklytookinthescene-thebloodonmyfaceandarms,thebloodonthebodiesofthetwins,thedroolingfigureinthechair.Isawhisshockedsurprisehardenandsettleintothegrim,angrylineofhismouth.Thenheheardthescream.
Rajan’sbrother,theonewiththeknife,letoutthatbloodnumbingwaulandranatDidier,whoswunghispistolroundwithouthesitationandshotthemaninthegroin,nearthehip.
Hecrumpledandflunghimselfsideways,yowlingsobsofpainasherolledonthefloor,doubledoverhisbleedingwound.Rajanlimpedtothethrone-likechairanddrapedhisbodyinfrontofMadameZhou,shieldingherwithhisbarechest.HestaredhishatredintoDidier’seyes,andweknewthathewaswillingtotakeabullettoprotecther.Didiertookasteptowardshim,andlevelledthepistolatRajan’sheart.TheFrenchman’sfacewassetinaseverefrown,buthispaleeyeswerecalm,andgleamingwithhiscoolandabsolutedominion.Thatwastherealman,thesteelbladewithintheshabby,rustingscabbard.DidierLevy:oneofthemostcapableanddangerousmeninBombay.
“Doyouwanttodoit?”heaskedme,hisfaceharderthananythingelseintheroom.
“No.”
“No?”hebreathed,hiseyesneverleavingRajan.“Takealookatyourself.Lookatwhattheydid,Lin.Youshouldshootthem.”
“No.”
“Youshouldwoundthem,attheveryleast.”
“No.”
“Itisdangeroustoletthemlive.Yourhistorywiththesepeopleis…notgood.”
“It’sokay,”Imuttered.
“Youshouldshootatleastoneofthem,non?”
“No.”
“Verywell.ThenIwillshootthemforyou.”
“No,”Iinsisted.Iwasgratefulthathe’dstoppedthemfromkillingme,butfarmorethankfulthathe’darrivedintimetopreventmefromkillingthem.Surgingwavesofnauseaandreliefcrashedintomybloodredmind,drainingtheragefromme.Ishiveredasthelastsmileofshametrembledinmyeyes.“Idon’twanttoshootthem…andIdon’twantyoutoshootthem,either.Ididn’twanttofighttheminthefirstplace.Iwouldn’thave,iftheyhadn’tattackedmefirst.They’reonlydoingwhatI’ddo,ifIlovedher.They’reonlytryingtoprotecther.They’renotagainstme.It’snotaboutme.It’sabouther.Leavethemalone.”
“Andwhatabouther?”
“Youwereright,”Isaidquietly.“She’sfinished.She’salreadydead.I’msorryIdidn’tlistentoyou.Iguess…Ihadtoseeitformyself…”
IreachedouttocovertheguninDidier’shand.Rajanflinchedandflexed.Histwin,cryingoutinpain,begantodraghimselfawayfromusalongtheedgeofthewall.ThenIslowlypushedDidier’shanddownwarduntilthegunwasathisside.Rajanmetmyeyes.Isawthesurpriseandfearinhisblackeyessoftenintorelief.Heheldthestareamomentlongerandthenlimpedtohisbrother’sside
WithDidierclosebehindme,Imademywayalongthesecretcorridorandbacktotheblackenedstairs.
“Ioweyouone,Didier,”Iadmitted,grinningintothedark.
“Certainlyyoudo,”hereplied,andthenthestairscrumbledbeneathusandwefell,tumblinginandthroughtheburnedandbrokenwooduntilwehitthehardfloorbelow.
Splutteringandcoughinginthecloudofcharcoaldustandfloatingfibres,Iwriggledagainstmyfallenfriendtositupright.Myneckwasstiffandsore,andI’dlandedonmywristandshoulder,sprainingthemboth,butIseemedtobeintactandotherwiseunbroken.Didierhadlandedonme,andIheardhimmoaninggrumpily.
“Areyouokay,man?Jesus,whatafall!Areyouallright?”
“That’sit,”Didiersnarled.“I’mgoingbackupthereto_shootthatwoman!”
WelaughedaswehobbledoutoftheruinedPalacetogether,andthelaughterstayedwithusinthehoursthatfollowedwhilewebathedourwoundsanddressedthem.Didiergavemeacleanshirtandtrouserstowear.HiswardrobewassurprisinglystylishandcolourfulforamanwhodressedinsuchadrabuniformatLeopold’s.Heexplainedthatmostofthosebrightnewclotheshadbeenleftwithhimbyloverswho’dneverreturnedforthem,andIthoughtofKarla,givingmeclothesthathadoncebelongedtoherlovers.AndthelaughterbubbledupanewasweateamealtogetheratLeopold’swhileDidiertalkedofhismostrecentromanticdisasters.WewerelaughingstillwhenVikramPatelranupthestepswithhisarmswideinanexcitedgreeting.
“Lin!”
“Vikram!”
Istoodjustintimetoreceivehisflyinghug.Holdingmyshoulderswithhisarmsstraight,helookedmeover,frowningatthecutsonmyheadandface.
“Fuck,man,whathappenedtoyou?”heasked.Hisclotheswerestillblack,andstillinspiredbythecowboydream,buttheyweremuchmoresubduedandsubtle.ThatwasLettie’sinfluence,Iguessed.Althoughthenew,inexcessivelooksuitedhim,Iwasrelievedandcomfortedtoseethathisbelovedhatstillhungonhisbackfromthecordathisthroat.
“Youshouldseetheotherguys,”Ianswered,flickingaglanceatDidier.
“Sowhydidn’tyoutellmeyou’reback,man?”
“Ionlygotbacktoday,andI’vebeenkindofbusy.How’sLettie?”
“She’sgreat,yaar,”herespondedcheerily,takingaseat.“She’sgoingintothisbusinessthing,thismulti-fuckin-mediathing,withKarlaandhernewboyfriend.It’sgoingtobedamngood.”
IturnedmyheadtolookatDidier,whoshruggednon-committallyandthenglaredatVikramwithhisteethbaredinfury.
“Shit,man!”Vikramapologised,clearlystricken.“Ithoughtyouknew.IthoughtDidierwould’vetoldyou,yaar.”
“KarlaisbackinBombay,”Didierexplained,silencingVikramwithanothersternfrown.“Shehasanewman-aboyfriend,shecallshim.HisnameisRanjit,buthelikeseveryonetocallhimJeet.”
“He’snotabadguy,”Vikramadded,smilinghopefully.“Ithinkyou’lllikehim,Lin.”
“Oh,really,Vikram!”Didierhissed,wincingforme.
“It’sokay,”Isaid,smilingateachoftheminturn.
Icaughttheeyeofourwaiterandnoddedtohim,gesturingforanewroundofdrinks.Weweresilentuntiltheyarrivedandthedrinkswerepoured,andthen,withtheglassesintheair,Iproposedatoast.
“ToKarla!”Iproposed.“Mayshehavetendaughters,andmaytheyallmarrywell!”
“ToKarla!”theothersechoed,clashingglassesandthrowingbackthedrinks.Weweresharingourthirdtoast-tosomeone’spetdog,Ithink-whenMahmoudMelbaafwalkedintothehappy,noisy,chatteringrestaurantandlookedatmewitheyesthatwerestillupthere,onthefrozenmountainsofthewar.
“Whathappenedtoyou?”heaskedquickly,lookingatthecutsonmyfaceandheadwhenIrosetogreethim.
“Nothing,”Ismiled.
“Whodidthis?”heaskedmoreurgently.
“Ihadarun-inwithMadameZhou’sguys,”Ianswered,andherelaxedalittle.“Why?What’sup?”
“Nazeertoldmeyouwouldbehere,”hewhisperedthroughatight,anguishedlittlefrown.“Iamhappytofindyou.Nazeersaystoyou,don’tgoanywhere.Don’tdoanything,forsomedays.Thereisawarnow-awarofthegangs.TheyfightforKhader’spower.
Itisnotsafe.Stayawayfromthedundahplaces.”
Theworddundah,orbusiness,wastheslangtermweusedforallofKhader’sblack-marketoperationsinBombay.They’dbecometargets,somehow.
“Whathappened?What’sitallabout?”
“Thetraitor,Ghani,isdead,”hereplied.Hisvoicewascalm,buthiseyeswerehardanddetermined.“Themenwithhim,hismeninKhader’sgang,willalsodie.”
“Ghani?”
“Yes.Doyouhavemoney,Lin?”
“Sure,”Imuttered,thinkingaboutAbdulGhani.HewasfromPakistan.Thathadtobeit.Theconnectionstothesecretpolice,thePakistanISI,must’vebeenhis.Ofcourseitwashim.
Ofcoursehewasthetraitor.Ofcoursehewastheonewho’dtriedtohaveusarrestedandkilledinKarachi.That’swhoKhaledhadbeentalkingaboutonthenightbeforethebattle:notAbdullah,butGhani.AbdulGhani…
“Doyouhaveaplace?Asafeplace?”
“What?Yes.”
“Good,”hesaid,shakingmyhandwarmly.“ThenIwillseeyouhere,inthreedays’time,intheday,atoneo’clock,Inshallah.”
“Inshallah,”Iresponded,andhewalkedout.Hishandsomeheadwashigh,inhisbrave,righteousstep,andhisbackwasstraight.
Isatdownagain,avoidingtheeyesofmyfriendsuntilIcoulddisguisethedreadthatIknewtheywouldreadinthem.
“Whatisit?”Didierasked.
“Nothing,”Ilied,shakingmyheadandfakingasmile.Ireachedformyglassandliftedittoclinkagainsttheirs.“Wherewerewe?”
“WewerejustgoingtotoastRanjit’sdog,”Vikramrecalled,grinningwidely,“butI’dliketoincludehishorseinthattoast,ifit’snottoolate.”
“Youdonotknowifhehasahorse!”Didierobjected.
“Wedon’tknowifhe’sgotadog,either,”Vikrampointedout,“butthat’snotstoppingus.ToRanjit’sdog!”
“Ranjit’sdog!”weallreplied.
“Andhishorse!”Vikramadded.“Andhisneighbour’shorse!”
“Ranjit’shorse!”
“And…horses…ingeneral!”
“Andtolovers,everywhere!”Didierproposed.
“Andtolovers…everywhere…”Ianswered.
Butsomehow,insomeway,forsomereason,thelovehaddiedinme,andIsuddenlyrealisedit,andwassuddenlysure.Itwasn’tcompletelyover,myfeelingforKarla.Itneveriscompletelyover.ButtherewasnothingofthejealousyIoncewould’vefeltforthestrangerRanjit.Therewasnorageagainsthim,andnofeelingofhurtinspiredbyher.Ifeltnumbedandemptysittingthere,asifthewar,andthelossofKhaderbhaiandKhaled,andtheface-offwithMadameZhouandhertwinshadpouredanaestheticintomyheart.
Andtherewas,insteadofpain,asenseofwonder-IcouldthinkofnootherwaytodescribewhatIwasfeeling-atAbdulGhani’streachery.Andbehindthatalmostspiritualawetherewasadull,throbbing,fatalisticdread.Foreventhenthebloodyfuturehisbetrayalhadforcedonuswasunfoldingandspillingintoourlives,likethesuddenblossomofadrought-forcedroseinared,fallingrushtodry,unyieldingearth.
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CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
OnehourafterI’dleftAbdulGhani’smansiontoconfrontMadameZhou,NazeerandthreeofhismosttrustedmenforcedthedoorofthehousenexttoGhani’sandmadetheirwaythroughthelongbasementworkshopthatconnectedthetwohouses.AtaboutthetimethatIpickedmywaythroughtherubbleofMadameZhou’sruinedPalace,Nazeerandhismen,wearingblackknittedmasks,pushedupthetrapdoorinGhani’skitchenandenteredthehouse.
Theyseizedthecook,theyardman,Abdul’stwoservants,andtheSriLankancounterfeiters,VilluandKrishna,andlockedtheminasmallroominthebasement.AsIclimbedtheblackenedstairsofthePalacetotheatticandfoundMadameZhou,NazeercreptupstairstoAbdul’sgrandstudyandfoundhimsittinginthewingchair,weepingandstill.Then,ataboutthetimethatIuncurledtheknottedfistofmyrevengetopitymybrokenenemy,thedroolingMadame,NazeeravengedhimselfandKhaderKhanbykillingthetraitorwho’dbetrayedusallinPakistan.
TwomenheldAbdul’sarmsagainstthechair.Athirdmanforcedhisheadbackandhiseyesopen.Nazeerremovedhismask.StaringintoAbdul’seyes,Nazeerstabbedhimintheheart.Abdulmust’veknownhehadtodie.Hewassittingthere,alone,waitingforhiskillers.Buthisscream,theysay,cameallthewayfromhelltoclaimhim.
Theyrolledhisbodyoffthechairandontothepolishedfloor.
Then,asIstruggledwithRajanandhistwinintheatticacrossthecity,NazeerandhismenusedheavycleaverstohackoffAbdul’shands,hisfeet,andhishead.Theyscatteredthepiecesofhiscorpsearoundthegreathouse,justasAbdulGhanihadorderedtheSapnakillerstodowiththebutcheredpiecesofloyaloldMadjid’sbody.AndasIlefttheruinedPalace,myheartfreeandalmostatpeaceforthefirsttimeintoomanyvengefulmonths,NazeerandhismenreleasedKrishna,Villu,andtheservants-alldeemedtohavehadnopartinGhani’streachery-andthenleftthemansiontohuntdownthemembersofGhani’sfaction,andkillthemall.
“Ghaniwasfreakin’outforalongtime,yaar.”SanjayKumarsaid,translatingfreelyfromNazeer’sUrduintoEnglish.“HethoughtKhaderhadgonecrazy.Hethoughthewas,like,obsessed,youknow?HegottheideathatKhaderwasgoingtoloseallthebusinessandthemoneyandthepowerofthecouncil.HethoughtKhaderwasspendingtoomuchtimeonAfghanistan,thewar,andallthat.AndheknewKhaderhadalltheseothermissionsplanned–stuffinSriLankaandNigeriaandsuchlike.Sowhenhecouldn’ttalkKhaderoutofit,andhecouldn’tgethimtochange,hedecidedtouseallthisSapnabusiness.TheSapnathingwasGhani’soperation,rightfromthestart.”
“Allofit?”Iasked.
“Sure,”Sanjayanswered.“KhaderandGhani,both.ButGhaniwasincharge.TheywereusingtheSapnathing,youknow,togetwhattheywantedfromthecopsandthegovernment.”
“How?”
“Ghani’sideawastofreakeverybodyout-thecopsandthepoliticiansandtheothercouncils-withacommonenemy.ThatwasSapna.WhentheSapnaguysstartedchoppingpeopleupallovertheplace,andtalkingaboutarevolution,andSapnabeingthekingofthievesandallthat,everybodygotworried.Nobodyknewwhowasbehindit.Thatgotthemtoworkwithus,tocatchthefucker,inexchangeforourhelp.ButGhani,hewashopingtogetashotatKhaderhimself.”
“I’mnotsurehewantedthatfromthestart,”SalmanMustaaninterrupted,shakinghisheadathisclosefriendtoemphasisehispoint.“Ithinkhestartedoutjustlikealways,backingKhaderalltheway.ButthatSapnathing-thatwassomeweirdshit,man,andIthink,youknow,itbenthismind.”
“Whatever,”Sanjaycontinued,shruggingoffthefinepoint.“Theresult’sthesame.Ghanihasthisgang-theSapnaguys-hisowngang,thatonlyanswertohim.Andhe’skillingfuckersallovertheplace.Mostofthemwerepeoplehewantedtogetridofanyway,forbusinessreasons,whichIgotnoproblemwith.Soeverything’sgoingfine,yaar.Thewholefuckin’cityisgoingcrazylookingforthisSapnafucker,andallKhader’straditionalenemies,they’refallingalloverthemselvestohelphimsmugglegunsandexplosivesandotherheavyshitthroughBombaybecausetheywanthimtohelpthemfindoutwhothisSapnais,andtakehimout.It’safuckin’crazyplan,butit’sworking,yaar.Then,oneday,acopcomestoseehim.ItwasthatPatil-youknowtheguy,Lin-thatsub-inspectorSureshPatil.HeusedtoworkoutofColaba.Andhe’ssuchacunt,yaar.”
“Butasmartone,”Salmanmutteredrespectfully.
“Oh,yeah,he’ssmart.He’saverysmartcunt.AndhetellsGhanithattheSapnakillershaveleftaclueatthesceneoftheirlatestmurder,anditleadsbacktotheKhaderKhancouncil.
Ghanifreaksout.Hecanseeallthatshithe’sbeendoingcomingrighthometohisdoorstep.Sohedecidesthathe’sgottohaveasacrifice.SomeonefromtheKhaderKhancouncilitself,youknow,rightinthefuckin’heartofitall,thattheSapnaguyscanchopuptothrowthecopsoff.Theyfigured,ifthecopssawoneofourownguysgetallchoppedup,they’dhavetothinkthatSapnawasourenemy.”
“AndhepickedMadjid,”Salmanconcludedforhim.“Anditworked.
Patilwasthecopinchargeofthecase,andhewastherewhentheywereputtingthepiecesofMadjid’sbodyintocarrybags.HeknewhowcloseMadjidwastoKhaderbhai.Patil’sdad-nowthere’satoughcop,yaar-hadsomehistorywithKhaderbhai.Heputhiminjailonce.”
“Khaderbhaididtime?”Iasked,disappointedthatI’dneveraskedtheKhanmyself:we’dtalkedaboutprisonoftenenough.
“Sure,”Salmanlaughed.“Heevenescaped,youknow,fromArthurRoad.”
“You’refuckin’kidding!”
“Youdidn’tknowthat,Lin?”
“No.”
“It’sadamnfinestory,yaar,”Salmanstated,wagginghisheadenthusiastically.“YoushouldgetNazeertotellitsometime.HewastheoutsidemanforKhaderKhanduringtheescape.Theywerefuckin’wildguys,NazeerandKhaderbhai,inthosedays,yaar.”
Sanjay,inagreement,clappedNazeeronthebackwithahard,good-naturedslap.ItwasalmostexactlytheplacewhereNazeerhadbeenwounded,andIknewtheslapmust’vehurt,butheshowednosignofpain.Instead,hestudiedmyface.ItwasmyfirstformaldebriefingafterAbdulGhani’sdeathandtheendofthetwo-weekgangsterwarthathadcostsixlivesandputthepowerofthemafiacouncilbackinthehandsofNazeerandtheKhaderfaction.Imethisgaze,andnoddedslowly.
Hisstern,unsmilingfacesoftenedforaninstantandthenquicklysetinitscustomaryseverity.
“PooroldMadjid,”Sanjaysaid,sighingheavily.“Hewasjusta-whatthefuckdoyoucallthoseredthings?Thosefish?”
“Aredherring,”Isaid.
“Yeah,oneofthoseherringfuckers.Thecops-thatPatilcuntandhisguys-theydecidedthattherewasn’tanyconnectionbetweenSapnaandKhader’scouncil.TheyknewhowmuchKhaderlovedMadjid,andtheystartedlookinginotherplaces.Ghaniwasoffthehook,andafterawhilehisguysstartedchoppingfuckersupagain.Businessasusual.”
“HowdidKhaderfeelaboutit?”
“Aboutwhat?”Sanjayasked.
“HemeansaboutMadjidbeingkilled,”Salmancutin.“Don’tyou,Lin?”
“Yeah.”
Therewasasmallhesitationasallthreemenlookedatme.Theirfeaturesweresetingrimandalmostresentfulstillness,asifI’daskedthemanimpoliteorembarrassingquestion.Buttheireyes,litwithsecretsandlies,seemedregretfulandsaddened.
“Khaderwascoolwithit,”Salmananswered.Ifeltmyheartstutter,murmuringitspain.
WewereintheMocambo,arestaurantandcoffeebarintheFortArea.Itwasclean,wellserviced,andfashionablybohemian.RichbusinessmenfromtheFortmixedwithgangsters,lawyers,andcelebritiesfromthemoviesandtherapidlydevelopingtelevisionindustries.Ilikedtheplace,andI’dbeengladthatSanjayhadchosenitforourmeeting.We’dworkedourwaythroughabigbuthealthylunchandkulfidessert,andhadmovedontooursecondcoffee.Nazeersatatmyleft,withhisbackinacornerspace,andfacingthemainstreetdoor.NexttohimwasSanjayKumar,thetough,youngHindugangsterfromthesuburbofBandrawho’doncebeenmytrainingpartner.He’dworkedhiswayintoapermanentpositiononwhatremainedofKhader’smafiacouncil.Hewasthirtyyearsold,fitandheavy-set,withthick,dark-brownhairthatheblow-driedtomatchthebouffantofthemovieheroes.Hisfacewashandsome.Wide-apartbrowneyes,setdeepintotheshelterofahighbrow,lookedoutwithhumourandconfidenceoverawidenose,asmiler’smouth,andasoftlyroundedchin.Helaughedeasily,anditwasalwaysagood,warmlaugh,nomatterhowoftenheprovokedhimselftoit.
Andhewasgenerous:itwasalmostimpossibletopayabillinhiscompany-not,assomethought,becauseheaggrandisedhimselfwiththegesture,butratherbecauseitwashisinstincttogiveandtoshare.Hewasalsobrave,andasdependableinaviolentcrisisashewasfromdaytomundaneday.Hewasaneasymantolike,andIdidlikehim,andIhadtoremindmyselfwithalittlenudgeofwill,nowandthen,thathewasoneofthemenwho’dhackedoffAbdulGhani’shandsandfeetandheadwithabutcher’scleaver.
Thefourthmanatourtable,sittingnexttoSanjay,asalways,wasSalman,hisbestfriend.SalmanMustaanwasborninthesameyearasSanjay,andhadgrownupwithhiminthebustling,crowdedsuburbofBandra.He’dbeenaprecociouschild,I’dbeentold,who’dsurprisedhisimpoverishedparentsbytoppingeverysubjectineveryclassathisjuniorschool.Hissuccesswasthemoreremarkableforthefactthat,fromthedayofhisfifthbirthday,theboyhadworkedtwentyhoursaweekwithhisfather,pluckingchickensandsweepingoutatthelocalpoultryyard.
Iknewhishistorywell,piecingittogetherfromstoriesandconfidenceshe’dsharedwhenwe’dworkedouttogetheratAbdullah’sgym.WhenSalmanhadannouncedthathehadtoleaveschooltoworklongerhoursinsupportofhisfamily,ateacherwhoknewAbdelKhaderKhanaskedthedontointercedeonhisbehalf.SalmanbecameoneofKhaderbhai’sscholarshipchildren-likemyadviser,intheslumclinic,DoctorHamid-anditwasdecidedthatheshouldbegroomedtowardacareerasalawyer.
KhaderenrolledSalmaninaCatholiccollegerunbyJesuitpriests,andeverydaytheboyfromtheslumdressedinaclean,whiteuniformandtookhisplaceamongthesonsoftherichelite.Itwasagoodeducation-Salman’sspokenEnglishwaseloquent,andhisgeneralknowledgerovedthroughhistoryandgeographytoliterature,science,andart.ButtherewasawildnessintheboyandarestlesshungerforexcitementthateventhestrongarmsandthehardcanesoftheJesuitscouldn’ttame.
WhileSalmanstruggledwiththeJesuits,SanjayhadfoundajobinKhaderbhai’sgang.Heworkedasarunner,carryingmessagesandcontrabandbetweenmafiaofficesthroughoutthecity.Inthefirstweeksofthatservice,Sanjaywasstabbedduringafightwithmenfromarivalgangwho’dtriedtorobhim.Theboyfoughtbackandevadedhisattackers,deliveringhiscontrabandparceltoKhader’scollectioncentre,buthiswoundwasseriousandhetooktwomonthstorecoverfromit.Salman,hislifelongfriend,blamedhimselffornotbeingwithSanjay,andheleftschoolimmediately.HebeggedtheKhanforpermissiontojoinhisfriendandworkwithhimasarunner.Khaderagreed,andfromthatdaytheboysworkedtogetherateverycrimeinthecouncil’scatalogue.
Theywerejustsixteenthen,atthebeginning.TheybothturnedthirtyintheweeksbeforeourmeetingintheMocambo.Thewildboyshadbecomehardmenwholavishedgiftsontheirfamilies,andlivedwithacertaingaudy,aggressivecool.Althoughthey’dsupportedtheirsistersintoprestigiousmarriages,bothmenwereunmarried,inacountrywherethatwasunpatrioticattheleast,andsacrilegiousatworst.They’drefusedtomarry,Salmantoldme,becauseofasharedbelieforpresentimentthattheywoulddieviolentlyandtheywoulddieyoung.Theprospectdidn’tfrightenorworrythem.Theysawitasareasonabletradeoff:excitementandpowerandwealthenoughtoprovidefortheirfamilies,balancedagainstshortlivesthatrushedintothedeadendofaknifeoragun.AndwhenNazeer’sgroupwonthegangsterwaragainstGhani’sgroup,thetwofriendsfoundthemselvesonthenewcouncil;youngmafiadonsintheirownright.
“IthinkGhanididtrytowarnKhaderbhaiwhatwasinhisheart,”
Salmansaidthoughtfully,hisvoiceclearandhisEnglishroundedtothenearestdecibelpoint.“HetalkedaboutthatherocursethingforagoodyearorsobeforehedecidedtocreateSapna.”
“Fuckhim,yaar,”Sanjaysnarled.“WhothefuckwashetobegivingKhaderbhaiwarnings?WhothefuckwashetogetusallintheshitwithPatil,sohehadtohavehisguyscutupoldMadjid?Andthen,aftereverything,hewentandsoldeverybodyouttothefuckin’Pakistanicops,yaar.Fuckhim.IfIcoulddigthemadachudhupandkillhimagain,I’ddoittoday.I’ddoiteveryday.Itwouldbemyfuckin’hobby,like.”
“WhowastherealSapna?”Iasked.“WhoactuallydidthekillingsforAbdul?IrememberKhadertoldmeonce,afterAbdullahwaskilled,thathefoundtherealSapna.Hesaidhekilledhim.Whowashe?Andwhydidhekillhim,ifhewasworkingforhiminthefirstplace?”
ThetwoyoungermenturnedtofaceNazeer.SanjayaskedhimafewquestionsinUrdu.Itwasanactofrespecttowardtheolderman:theyknewthefactsaswellasNazeerdid,buttheydeferredtohisrecollectionofthemandincludedhiminthediscussion.IunderstoodmostofNazeer’sreply,butIwaitedforSanjaytotranslate.
“HisnamewasJeetendra.Jeetudada,theycalledhim.HewasagunandmacheteguyfromDelhi-side.Ghanibroughthimdownhere,withfourotherguys.Heactuallykepttheminfive-starhotels,like,thewholefuckin’time-twoyears,man!Bahinchudh!
ComplainingaboutKhaderspendingmoneyonthemujaheddinandthewarandall,andmeanwhilehewaskeepingthesepsychofuckersinfive-starhotelsfortwofuckinyears!”
“JeetudadagotdrunkwhenAbdullahwaskilled,”Salmanadded.“Itreallygottohim,youknow,thateveryonewassayingSapnawasdead.He’dbeendoingtheSapnathingfornearlytwoyears,andithadstartedtotwisthisbrain.Hestartedtobelievehisown–orGhani’s-bullshit.”
“Stupidfuckin’name,yaar,”Sanjaycutin.“It’sagirl’sname,Sapna.It’safuckin’girl’sname.It’slikemecallingmyselffuckin’Lucy,orsomesuch.Whatkindofabadfuckercallshimselfagirl’sname,yaar?”
“Thekindwhokillselevenpeople,”Salmananswered,“andalmostgetsawaywithit.Anyway,hegotcompletelydrunkthenightAbdullahwaskilledandeverybodywassayingthatSapnawasdead.
Andhestartedshootinghismouthoff,tellinganyonewhowouldlistenthathewastherealSapna.TheywereinabarinthePresidentHotel.Thenhestartsshoutingthathewasreadytotellitall-whowasbehindtheSapnakillings,youknow,andwhoplanneditallandpaidforitall.”
“Fuckin’gandu,”Sanjaygrowled,usingtheslangwordforarsehole.“Inevermetoneofthesepsychotypeswhowasn’tafuckin’squealer,yaar.”
“Luckyforus,thereweremostlyforeignersintheplacethatnight,sotheydidn’tknowwhathewastalkingabout.Oneofourguyswasthere,inthebar,andhetoldJeetutoshutthefuckup.Jeetudadasaidhewasn’tafraidofAbdelKhaderKhanbecausehehadplansforKhader,aswell.HesaidKhaderwasgoingtoendupinpieces,justlikeMadjid.Thenhestartswavingagunaround.OurguycalledKhaderrightaway.AndtheKhan,hewentanddidthatonehimself.HewentwithNazeerandKhaled,andFarid,andAhmedZadeh,andyoungAndrewFerreira,andsomeothers.”
“Imissedthatone,fuckit!”Sanjaycursed.“Iwantedtofixthatmaakachudhfromthefirstday,andespeciallyafterMadjid.
ButIwasonajob,inGoa.Anyway,Khaderfixedthemup.”
“TheyfoundthemnearthecarparkofthePresidentHotel.
Jeetudadaandhisguysputupafight.Therewasabigshoot-out.
Twoofourguysgothit.OneofthemwasHussein-youknow,herunsthenumbersinBallardPiernow.That’showhelosthisarm-hetookashotgunblast,bothbarrelsofacrowd-pleaser,asawn-off,andittorehisarmrightoffhisbody.IfAhmedZadehhadn’twrappedhimupanddraggedhimoutofthere,andofftohospital,hewould’vebledtodeath,rightthereinthecarpark.Allfourofthemwhowerethere-Jeetudadaandhisthreeguys-gotwasted.
Khaderbhaiputthelastbulletsintotheirheadshimself.ButoneofthoseSapnaguyswasn’tinthecarpark,andhegotaway.Wenevertrackedhimdown.HewentbacktoDelhi,andhedisappearedfromthere.Wehaven’theardanythingsince.”
“IlikedthatAhmedZadeh,”Sanjaysaidquietly,dispensingwhatwas,forhim,extravagantlyhighpraisewithalittlesighofsorrowingrecollection.
“Yeah,”Iagreed,rememberingthemanwho’dalwayslookedasthoughhewassearchingforafriendinacrowd;themanwho’ddiedwithhishandclenchedinmine.“Hewasagoodguy.”
Nazeerspokeagain,gruntingthewordsatusinhiswrathfulstyleasiftheywerethreats.
“WhenthePakistanicopsweretippedoffaboutKhaderbhai,”
Sanjaytranslated,“itwasobviousthatithadtobeAbdulGhanibehindit.”
Inoddedmyagreement.Itwasobvious.AbdulGhaniwasfromPakistan.Hisconnectionstherewentdeep,andhigh.He’dtoldmeaboutitmorethanoncewhenI’dworkedforhim.IwonderedwhyIhadn’tseenitatthetime,whenthecopsraidedourhotelinPakistan.MyfirstthoughtwasthatI’dsimplylikedhimtoomuchtosuspecthim,andthatwastrue.Moretothepoint,perhaps,washowflatteredI’dbeenbyhisattention:Ghanihadbeenmypatrononthecouncil,afterKhaderhimself,andhe’dinvestedtime,energy,andaffectioninourfriendship.AndtherewassomethingelsethatmighthavedistractedmeinKarachi:mymindhadbeenfilledwithshameandrevenge-IrememberedthatmuchfromthevisittothemosquewhenI’dsatbesideKhaderbhaiandKhaledtoheartheBlindSingers.IrememberedreadingDidier’sletteranddeciding,inthatshifting,yellowlamplight,thatIwouldkillMadameZhou.IrememberedthinkingthatandthenturningmyheadtoseetheloveinKhader’sgoldeneyes.Couldthatloveandthatangerhavesmotheredsomethingsoimportant,somethingsoobvious,asGhani’streachery?AndifI’dmissedthat,whatelsehadImissed?“Khaderwasn’tsupposedtomakeitoutofPakistan,”Salmanadded.“Khaderbhai,Nazeer,Khaled-evenyou.AbdulGhanithoughtitwashischancetotakeoutthewholecouncilinoneshot-alltheguysonthecouncilwhoweren’twithhim.ButKhaderbhaihadhisownfriendsinPakistan,andtheywarnedhim,andyoumadeitoutofthetrap.IthinkAbdulmust’veknownhewasfinishedfromthatdayon.Butheheldhispeace,andhedidn’tmakeanymoveshere.Hewashoping,Iguess,thatKhader,andthewholelotofyou,mightbekilledinthewar-”
Nazeerinterruptedhim,impatientwiththeEnglishthathedespised.IthoughtIunderstoodwhathe’dsaid,andItranslatedhiswords,lookingtoSanjayforconfirmationthatmyguesswascorrect.
“KhadertoldNazeertokeepthetruthaboutAbdulGhaniasecret.
Hesaidthatifanythinghappenedtohiminthewar,NazeerwastoreturntoBombayandavengehim.Wasthatit?”
“Yeah,”Sanjaywaggedhishead.“Yougotit.Andafterwedidthat,wehadtofixtherestoftheguyswhowereonGhani’sside.There’snoneofthemleftnow.They’realldead,ortheygotthefuckoutofBombay.”
“Whichbringsustothepoint,”Salmansmiled.Itwasararesmile,butagoodone:atiredman’ssmile;anunhappyman’ssmile;atoughman’ssmile.Hislongfacewasalittlelopsidedwithoneeyelowerthantheotherbythethicknessofafinger,abreakinhisnosethathadsettledcrookedly,andamouththathitchedinonecornerwhereafisthadsplitthelipandasuturehadpulledtheskintootightly.Hisshorthairformedaperfectlyroundhairlineonhisbrowlikeadarkhalothatpresseddownhardonhisslightlyjuggedears.“Wewantyoutorunthepassportsforawhile.KrishnaandVilluareveryinsistent.They’realittle…”
“They’refreakedoutoftheirfuckin’brains,”Sanjaycutin.
“They’rescaredstupidbecauseguysweregettingchoppedalloverBombay-startingwithGhaniwhiletheywererightthereinthefuckin’cellar.Nowthewar’sover,andwewon,butthey’restillscared.Wecan’taffordtolosethem,Lin.Wewantyoutoworkwiththem,andsettlethemdown,like.They’reaskingaboutyouallthetime,andtheywantyoutoworkwiththem.Theylikeyou,man.”
Ilookedateachoftheminturn,andsettledmyeyesonNazeer.
Ifmyunderstandingwascorrect,itwasatemptingoffer.ThevictoriousKhaderfactionhadreformedthelocalmafiacouncilunderoldSobhanMahmoud.Nazeerhadbecomeafullmemberofthecouncil,ashadMahmoudMelbaaf.TheothersincludedSanjayandSalman,Farid,andthreeotherBombay-borndons.AllofthelastsixspokeMarathieverybitaswellastheyspokeHindiorEnglish.ThatgavemeauniqueandverysignificantpointofcontactwiththembecauseIwastheonlygoraanyofthemknewwhocouldspeakMarathi.Iwastheonlygoraanyofthemknewwho’dbeenlegironedatArthurRoadPrison.AndIwasoneoftheveryfewmen,brownorwhite,who’dsurvivedKhader’swar.Theylikedme.Theytrustedme.Theysawmeasavaluableasset.Thegangsterwarwasover.InthenewPaxMafiathatruledtheirpartofthecity,fortunescouldbemade.AndIneededthemoney.I’dbeenlivingonmysavings,andIwasalmostbroke.
“Whatexactlydidyouhaveinmind?”IaskedNazeer,knowingthatSanjaywouldreply.
“Yourunthebooks,thestamps,allthepassportstuff,andthelicences,permits,andcreditcards,”heansweredquickly.“Yougetcompletecontrol.JustthewayitwaswithGhani.Nofuckin’problem.Whateveryouneed,yougetit.Youtakeapieceofthataction-I’mthinkin’about5percent,butwecantalkaboutthatifyoudon’tthinkit’senough,yaar.”
“Andyoucanvisitthecouncilwheneveryouwant,”Salmanadded.
“Sortofanobserverstatus,ifyougetmymeaning.Whatdoyousay?”
“You’dhavetomovetheoperationfromGhani’sbasement,”Isaidquietly.“I’dneverfeelhappyaboutworkingthere,andI’mnotsurprisedtheplacehasgotVilluandKrishnaspooked.”
“Noproblem,”Sanjaylaughed,slappingthetable.“We’regoingtoselltheplaceanyway.Youknow,Lin-brother,thatfatfuckGhaniputthetwobighouses-hisownoneandtheplacenextdoor-inhisbrother-in-law’sname.Nothin’wrongwiththat-fuck,man,wealldothat.Butthey’reworthfuckin’crores,Lin.They’refuckin’mansions,baba.Andthen,afterweslicedanddicedthefatfuck,hisbrother-in-lawdecideshedoesn’twanttosigntheplacesovertous.Thenhegetstough,andstartstalkinglawyersandpolice.Sowehadtotiehimupoverabigdubbaofacid,yaar.Thenhe’snottoughanymore.Thenhecan’twaittosigntheplacesovertous.WesentFaridtodothejob.Hetookcareofit.Buthegotsofuckedup,yaar,withthedisrespectGhani’sbrother-in-lawshowedus,andhewasrealangrywiththemadachudhformakinghimsetuptheacidbarrelandall.Helikestokeepthingssimple,ourbrotherFarid.Thewholehanging-thecunt-up-over-the-acidthing,itwasallabit-whatdidyoucallit,Salman?Whatwastheword?”
“Tawdry,”Salmansuggested.
“Yeah.Taw-fuckin-dry,thewholething.Farid,helikestogetrespect,orcuttothechaseandgunthemotherfuckerdown,like.
So,angryasheis,hetakesthebrother-in-law’sownhouseaswell-makeshimsignoverhisownhouse,justforbeingsuchabigmadachudhaboutGhani’shouses.Sonowhe’sgotnothing,thatguy,andwegotthreehousesonthemarketinsteadofone.”
“It’saviciousandbloodthirstyracket,thatpropertybusiness,”
Salmanconcludedwithawrysmile.“I’mmovingusintoitassoonasIcan.We’retakingoveroneofthebigagencies.I’vegotFaridworkingonit.Okay,Lin,ifyoudon’twanttoworkatGhani’splace,wherewouldyoulikeustosetitupforyou?”
“IlikeTardeo,”Isuggested.“SomewherenearHajiAli.”
“WhyTardeo?”Sanjayasked.
“IlikeTardeo.It’sclean…andit’squiet.Andit’snearHajiAli.IlikeHajiAli.I’vegotkindofasentimentalconnectiontotheplace.”
“Thikhain,Lin,”Salmanagreed.“Tardeoitis.We’lltellFaridtostartlookingrightaway.Anythingelse?”
“I’llneedacoupleofrunners-guysIcantrust.I’dliketopickmyownmen.”
“Who’veyougotinmind?”Sanjayasked.
“Youdon’tknowthem.They’reoutsideguys.Butthey’rebothgoodmen.JohnnyCigarandKishore.Itrustthem,andIknowIcanrelyonthem.”
SanjayandSalmanexchangedaglanceandlookedtoNazeer.Henodded.
“Noproblem,”Salmansaid.“Isthatit?”
“Onemorething,”Iadded,turningtoNazeer.“IwantNazeerasmycontactonthecouncil.Ifthere’sanyproblem,foranyreason,IwanttodealwithNazeerfirst.”
Nazeernoddedagain,favouringmewithalittlesmiledeepinhiseyes.
Ishookhandswitheachmaninturntosealthedeal.TheexchangewasalittlemoreformalandsolemnthanI’dexpectedittobe,andIhadtoclenchmyjawtostiflealaugh.Andthoseattitudes,theirgravitasandmyrecusantimpulsetolaugh,registeredthedifferencebetweenus.ForallthatIlikedSalman,Sanjay,andtheothers-andthetruthwasthatIlovedNazeer,andowedhimmylife-themafiawas,forme,ameanstoanendandnotanendinitself.Forthem,themafiawasafamily,aninfrangiblebondthatheldthemfromminutetominuteandallthewaytothedyingbreath.Theirsolemnityexpressedthatkin-sacredobligationfromeyetoeyeandhandtohand,butIknewtheyneverbelieveditwaslikethatforme.
Theytookmeinandworkedwithme-thewhiteguy,thewildgorawhowenttothewarwithAbdelKhaderKhan-buttheyexpectedmetoleavethem,soonerorlater,andreturntotheotherworldofmymemoryandmyblood.
Ididn’tthinkthat,andIdidn’texpectit,becauseI’dburnedallthebridgesthatmight’veledmehome.AndalthoughIhadtostopmyselffromlaughingattheearnestnessofthelittleceremony,thehandshakehad,infact,formallyinductedmeintotheranksofprofessionalcriminals.Untilthatmoment,thecrimesI’dcommittedhadbeenintheserviceofKhaderKhan.Asdifficultasitisforanyoneoutsidethatworldtounderstand,therewasasenseinwhichI’dbeenabletosay,withsincerity,thatI’dcommittedthemforloveofhim:formyownsafety,certainly;but,beyondeveryotherreason,forthefather’sloveI’dcravedfromhim.WithKhadergone,Icould’vemadethebreakcompletely.Icould’vegone…almostanywhere.Icould’vedone…somethingelse.ButIdidn’t.Ijoinedmyfatetotheirsandbecameagangsterfornothingmorethanthemoney,andthepower,andtheprotectionthattheirbrotherhoodpromised.
Anditkeptmebusy,breakinglawsforaliving:sobusythatImanagedtohidemostofwhatIfeltfromtheheartthatwasfeelingit.EverythingmovedquicklyafterthatmeetingattheMocambo.Faridfoundnewpremiseswithinaweek.Thetwo-storybuilding,onlyashortwalkfromthefloatingmosque,HajiAli,hadbeenarecordsofficeforabranchoftheBombayMunicipalCorporation.WhentheBMChadmovedtolarger,moremodernoffices,they’dleftmostoftheoldbenches,desks,storagecupboards,andshelvesbehindasstockfittings.Theywerewellsuitedtoourneeds,andIspentaweeksupervisingateamofcleanersandlabourers,whodustedandpolishedeverysurfacewhilemovingthefurniturearoundtomakewayforthemachineryandlight-tablesfromGhani’sbasement.
Ourmenloadedthatspecialistequipmentontoalarge,coveredtruckanddeliveredittothenewpremiseslateatnight.Thestreetwasunusuallyquietastheheavytruckbackeduptothedoublefoldingdoorsofournewfactory.Butalarmbellsandtheheavierclangoffire-enginebellsjangledinthedistance.Standingbesideourtruck,Ilookedalongthedesertedstreetinthedirectionofthefranticsound.
“Itmustbeabigfire,”ImutteredtoSanjay,andhelaughedoutloud.
“Faridstartedafire,”Salmansaid,answeringforhisfriend.
“Wetoldhimwedidn’twantanyonewatchingusmovethisstuffintothenewplace,sohestartedthefireasadiversion.That’swhythestreetissoempty.Everybodywhoisawakehasgonetothefire.”
“Heburneddownarivalcompany,”Sanjaylaughed.“Nowweareofficiallyintherealestatebusinessbecauseourbiggestrivalshavejustcloseddown,duetofiredamage.Westartournewrealestateofficenotfarfromheretomorrow.Andtonight,nocuriousfuckersareheretoseeusmoveourstuffintoyournewworkshop.
Faridkilledtwobirdswithonematch,na?”
So,whilefireandsmokesingedthemidnightsky,andbellsandsirensrailedaboutakilometreaway,wedirectedourmenastheymovedtheheavyequipmentintothenewfactory.AndKrishnaandVilluwenttoworkalmostatonce.
InthemonthsthatI’dbeenaway,Ghanihadfollowedmysuggestiontopushthefocusoftheoperationlaterallyintotheproductionofpermits,certificates,diplomas,licences,lettersofcredit,securitypasses,andotherdocuments.ItwasaboomingtradeintheboomingeconomyofBombay,andweoftenworkedthroughthedawntosatisfythedemand.Andthebusinesswasgenerational:aslicensingauthoritiesandotherbodiesmodifiedtheirdocumentsinresponsetoourforgeries,wedutifullycopiedandthencounterfeitedthemagain,atadditionalcost.
“It’sakindofRedQueencontest,”IsaidtoSalmanMustaanwhenthenewpassportfactoryhadbeenrunningforsixdiligentmonths.
“LaikaRani?”heasked.ARedQueen?
“Yeah.It’sabiologything.It’sabouthosts,likehumanbodies,andparasites,likevirusesandsuch.IstudieditwhenIwasrunningmyclinicinthezhopadpatti.Thehosts-ourbodies-andtheviruses-anybugthatmakesussick-arelockedinacompetitionwitheachother.Whentheparasiteattacks,thehostdevelopsadefence.Thentheviruschangestobeatthatdefence,sothehostgetsanewdefence.Andthatkeepsongoing.TheycallitaRedQueencontest.It’sfromthestory,youknow,AliceinWonderland.”“Iknowit,”Salmananswered.“Wediditatschool.ButIneverunderstoodit.”
“That’sokay-nobodydoes.Anyway,thelittlegirl,Alice,shemeetsthisRedQueen,whorunsincrediblyfastbutneverseemstogetanywhere.ShetellsAlicethat,inhercountry,ittakesalltherunningyoucando,tokeepinthesameplace.Andthat’slikeuswiththepassportauthorities,andthelicensingboards,andthebanksallovertheworld.Theykeepchangingthepassportsandotherdocumentstomakeitharderforus.Andwekeepfindingnewwaystofakethem.Andtheykeepchangingthewaytheymakethem,andwekeepfindingnewwaystofakethemandforgethemandadaptthemforourselves.It’saRedQueencontest,andweallhavetorunrealfastjusttostandstill.”
“Ithinkyou’redoingbetterthanstandingstill,”heasserted.
Histonewasquietbutadamant.“You’vedoneadamnfinejob,Lin.TheIDstuffisdeadly-it’sarealbigmarket.Theycan’tgetenough.Andit’sgoodwork.Sofar,allourguyswho’veusedyourbookshavegonethroughwithoutanyproblems,yaar.Asamatteroffact,that’swhyI’vecalledyoutohavelunchwithustoday.I’vegotasurpriseforyou-kindofapresent,like,andI’msureyou’regoingtolikeit.It’sawayofsayingthanks,yaar,forthegreatjobyou’vebeendoing.”
Ididn’tlookathim.Wewerewalkingquickly,sidebyside,alongMahatmaGandhiRoadtowardtheRegalCircleroundaboutonahot,cloudlessafternoon.Wherethefootpathwasdoggedwithshoppershaltingatthetabletopstreetstalls,wewalkedontheroadwithaslow,unceasingstreamoftrafficbehindandbesideus.Ididn’tlookatSalmanbecauseI’dcometoknowhimwellenoughduringthosesixmonthstobesurehewasembarrassedbythepraisehe’dfeltmovedtolavishonme.Salmanwasanaturalleaderbut,likemanymenwhohavethegiftofcommandandtheinstincttorule,hewasdeeplytroubledbyeveryexpressionoftheleadershipart.Hewas,atheart,ahumbleman,andthathumilitymadehimanhonourableman.
Lettiehadoncesaidthatshefounditstrangeandincongruoustohearmedescribecriminals,killers,andmafiosiasmenofhonour.Theconfusion,Ithink,washers,notmine.She’dconfusedhonourwithvirtue.Virtueisconcernedwithwhatwedo,andhonourisconcernedwithhowwedoit.Youcanfightawarinanhonourableway-theGenevaConventionexistsforthatveryreason-andyoucanenforcethepeacewithoutanyhonouratall.Initsessence,honouristheartofbeinghumble.Andgangsters,justlikecops,politicians,soldiers,andholymen,areonlyevergoodatwhattheydoiftheystayhumble.
“Youknow,”heremarked,aswemovedtothewiderfootpathoppositethecloistersoftheuniversitybuildings,“I’mgladitdidn’tworkoutwithyourfriends-theonesyouwantedtohelpyouwiththepassports,rightatthestart.”
Ifrowned,andremainedsilent,keepingpacewithhisrapidstep.
JohnnyCigarandKishorehadrefusedtojoinmeinthepassportfactory,andithadshockedanddisappointedme.I’dassumedthattheywouldjumpatthechancetomakemoney-tomakemoremoneywithmethaneitherofthemhadeverdreamedofmakingalone.I’dneveranticipatedthesaddenedandoffendedexpressionsthatclosedtheirsmileswhentheyunderstood,atlast,thatIwasofferingthemnothingmorethanthegoldenopportunitytocommitcrimeswithme.Ithadneveroccurredtomethattheywouldn’twanttodoit.Ithadneveroccurredtomethattheywouldrefusetoworkwithcriminals,andforcriminals.
Irememberedturningawayfromtheirstony,closed,embarrassedsmilesthatday.Irememberedthequestionthathadknottedintoafistinmymind,rightbehindtheeyes:WasIsofaroutoftouchwiththethoughtsandfeelingsofdecentmen?Thequestionstillrankledsixmonthslater.Theanswerstillstaredbackatmefromthemirroredwindowsoftheshopswepassedaswewalked.
“Ifthoseguysofyourshadworkedout,”Salmancontinued,“Iwouldn’thaveputFaridwithyou.AndI’mdamngladthatIdidputhimwithyou.He’samuchhappierguynow.He’samuchmorerelaxedkindofguy.Helikesyou,Lin.”
“Ilikehim,too,”Irepliedquickly,smilingthroughmyfrown.
Anditwastrue.IdidlikeFarid,andIwasgladthatwe’dbecomeclosefriends
Farid,theshybutcapableyoungsterI’dmetonmyfirstvisittoKhader’smafiacouncilmorethanthreeyearsbefore,hadtougheneduptoahard,fearless,angrymanwhosesenseofloyaltyassumedthefullmeasureofhisyounglife.WhenJohnnyCigarandKishorerejectedmyoffersofwork,SalmanhadputFaridandtheGoan,AndrewFerreira,toworkwithme.Andrewhadbeengenialandtalkative,buthe’dmovedonlyreluctantlyfromthecompanyofhisyounggangsterfriends,andwehadn’tbecomeclose.Farid,however,hadspentmostdaysandmanynightswithme,andwelikedandunderstoodoneanother.
“Hewasrightontheedge,Ithink,whenKhaderdiedandwehadtocleanoutGhani’sguys,”Salmanconfided.“Itgotprettyrough–youremember-wealldidsome…unusualthings.ButFaridwaswild.Hewasstartingtoworryme.Youhavetogetheavysometimesinourbusiness.That’sjusthowitis.Butyougotaproblemonyourhandswhenyoustartto_enjoyit,na?Ihadtotalktohim.`Farid`,Isaidtohim,`cuttingpeopleupshouldnotbethefirstoption.Itshouldbealongwaydownthelist.
Itshouldn’tevenbeonthesamepageasthefirstoption.`Buthewentrightondoingit.ThenIputhimwithyou.Andnow,aftersixmonths,he’samuchcalmerguy.Itworkedoutwell,yaar.IthinkI’lljusthavetoputallthereallybadandmadmotherfuckerswithyou,Lin,tostraightenthemout.”
“HeblamedhimselffornotbeingtherewhenKhaderdied,”IsaidasweroundedthecurveofthedomedJehangirArtGallery.Seeingasmallgapinthetraffic,wejoggedacrosstheroundaboutatRegalCirclejunction,dodgingandweavingbetweenthecars.
“We_alldid,”SalmanmutteredsoftlywhenwetookupapositionoutsidetheRegalCinema.
Itwasatinyphrase,threesmallwords,anditsaidnothingnew,nothingmorethanIalreadyknewtobetrue.Yetthatlittlephrasethunderedinmyheart,andanavalancheofgrievingbegantotremble,shift,andslide.Foralmostayear,anduntilthatverymoment,myangeratKhaderbhaihadshieldedmefromthepainofgrievingforhim.Othershadcrumbledandwitheredandragedintheirshockandsorrowathisdeath.I’dbeensoangrywithhimthatmyshareofgriefwasstillupthere,beneaththesmotheringsnow,inthosemountainswherehe’ddied.I’dfeltasenseofloss.I’dsufferedalmostfromthestart.AndIdidn’thatetheKhan-I’dlovedhim,always,andstilllovedhiminthatinstantaswestoodoutsidethecinema,waitingforourfriends.
ButIhadn’treallygrievedforhim-notinthewaythatI’dgrievedforPrabakerorevenAbdullah.Somehow,Salman’scasualremarkthatweallblamedourselvesfornotbeingwithKhaderwhenhediedhadshakenmyfrozensorrowingfree,andtheslow,inexorablesnowslipofitsheartachebegan,rightthereandthen.
“Wemustbeabitearly,”Salmanobservedcheerily,andIflinchedasIforcedmyselfintothemomentwithhim.“Yeah.”
“They’recomingbycar,we’rewalking,andstillwebeatthemhere.”
“It’sagoodwalk.Atnightit’sevenbetter.Idothatwalkalot:theCausewaytoVT.andback.It’soneofmyfavouritewalksinthewholecity.”
Salmanlookedatme,asmileonhislipsandafrownexaggeratingtheslightlycrookedtiltofhisalmond-browneyes.
“Youreallylovethisplace,don’tyou?”heasked.
“SureIdo,”Ireplied,alittledefensively.“Thatdoesn’tmeanIlikeeverythingaboutit.There’salotthatIdon’tlike.ButIdolovetheplace.IloveBombay,andIthinkIalwayswill.”
Hegrinnedandlookedawaydownthestreet.Istruggledtoholdthesetofmyfeatures,tokeepmyexpressioncalmandeven.Butitwastoolate.Theheartgriefhadalreadybegun.
Iknownowwhatwashappeningtome,whatwasoverwhelmingme,whatwasabouttoconsumeandalmostdestroyme.Didierhadevengivenmeanameforit-assassingrief,he’doncecalledit:thekindofgriefthatliesinwaitandattacksfromambush,withnowarningandnomercy.Iknownowthatassassingriefcanhideforyearsandthenstrikesuddenly,onthehappiestday,withoutdiscerniblereasonorexegesis.Butonthatday,sixmonthsaftermyworkinthepassportfactoryhadbegun,andalmostayearafterKhader’sdeath,Icouldn’tunderstandthedarkandtremblingmoodthatwasmovinginme,swellingtothesorrowI’dtoolongdenied.Icouldn’tunderstandit,soItriedtofightitasamanfightspainordespair.Butyoucan’tbitedownonassassingrief,andwillitaway.Theenemystalksyou,stepforstep,andknowsyoureverymovebeforeyoumakeit.Theenemyisyourowngrievingheartand,whenitstrikes,itcan’tmiss.
Salmanturnedtomeoncemore,hisambereyesgleaminginthecastofhisthoughts.
“Thattime,whenwehadthewartogetridofGhani’sguys,FaridwastryingtobeanewAbdullah.Helovedhim,youknow.Helovedhimlikeabrother.AndIthinkhewastryingto_beAbdullah.IthinkhegottheideathatweneededanewAbdullahtowinthewarforus.Butitdoesn’twork,doesit?Itriedtotellhimthat.Itellthattoalltheyoungguys-especiallytheoneswhotrytobelikeme.Youcanonlyeverbeyourself.Themoreyoutrytobelikesomeoneelse,themoreyoufindyourselfstandingintheway.Hey,here’stheguys!”
AwhiteAmbassadorstoppedinfrontofus.Farid,Sanjay,AndrewFerreira,andatough,forty-year-oldBombayMuslimnamedAmirgotoutofthecarandjoinedus.Weshookhandsasthecardroveoff.
“Let’swaitaminute,guys,whileFaisalparksthecar,”Sanjaysuggested.
ItwastruethatFaisal,whorantheprotectionracketwithAmir,wasparkingthecar.Itwasalsotrue,andmoretothepoint,thatSanjaywasenjoyinghimself,standinginourconspicuousgrouponawarmafternoonandsparkingfurtivebutferventlooksfrommostofthegirlspassingusonthebusystreet.Weweregoondas,gangsters,andalmosteveryoneknewit.Ourclotheswerenewandexpensiveandcuttotheedgeoffashion.Wewereallfit.Wewereallconfident.Wewereallarmedanddangerous.
Faisallopedaroundthecornerandwaggedhisheadtosignalthatthecarwassafelyparked.Wejoinedhim,andwalkedthethreeblockstotheTajMahalHotelinasingle,wideline.TheroutefromRegalCircletotheTajHotelcrossedspacious,open,crowdedsquares.Weheldourlineeasilyasthecrowdspartedforus.Headsturnedaswepassed,andwhisperswhirledinourwake.
WeclimbedthewhitemarblestepsattheTaj,andwalkedthroughtotheShamianaRestaurantonthegroundfloor.Twowaiterssettledourgroupatalong,reservedtablenearatallwindowwithacourtyardview.Isatatoneendofthetable,nearesttotheexit.ThestrangeandoverpoweringlydarkmoodthathadstirredinmewithSalman’slittlephrasegrewstrongerbytheminute.Iwantedtobefreetoleaveatanymoment,withoutupsettingthebalanceofthegroup.Thewaitersgreetedmewithbroadsmiles,callingmegao-alay,orcountryman,theIndianequivalentoftheItalianpaisano.Theyknewmewell-thegorawhospokeMarathi-andwechattedforawhileinthevillagedialectI’dlearnedinSundermorethanfouryearsbefore.
Foodarrived,andthemenatewithgoodappetite.I,too,washungry,butIcouldn’teat,andIjustpushedatthefoodtomakeapoliteshow.Idranktwocupsofblackcoffeeandtriedtobringmytroubled,stormingmindintotherunofconversations.
Amirwasdescribingthemoviehe’dseenthenightbefore-aHindigangsterpicture,inwhichthegangsterswereviciousthugsandtheheroconqueredthemall,unarmedandalone.Hedescribedeveryfightsequenceindetail,andthemenhootedwithlaughter.Amirwasascarred,blunt-headedmanwiththick,tangledeyebrowsandamoustachethatrodethecrestingwaveofhisfullupperliplikethewideprowofaKashmirihouseboat.Helovedtolaughandtellstories,andhisself-assured,sonorousvoicecompelledattention.
Amir’sconstantcompanion,Faisal,hadbeenachampionboxerintheyouthleague.Onhisnineteenthbirthday,afterayearoftoughprofessionalbouts,he’ddiscoveredthathismanagerhadembezzledandsquanderedallthemoneyhe’dbeenentrustedtosavefromhisboxers’fights.Faisalhadtrackedthemanagerdown.Whenhe’dfoundhim,hehithimandthenkeptonhittinghimuntilthemanwasdead.He’dservedeightyearsinprisonforthecrime,andwasbannedfromboxingforlife.Inprison,thenaive,hot-temperedteenagerhadbecomeacalculating,coldtemperedyoungman.OneofKhaderbhai’stalentscoutshadrecruitedhimintheprison,andhe’dservedhisapprenticeshiptothemafiathroughthelastthreeyearsofhissentence.Duringthefouryearssincehisrelease,FaisalhadworkedasAmir’sprincipalstrong-armmanintheburgeoningprotectionracket.Hewasquick,ruthless,anddriventosucceedatwhatevertaskwassetforhim.Hisflattened,brokennose,andaneatscarthatdissectedhislefteyebrowgavehimafearsomeappearance,andtoughenedwhatmightotherwisehavebeenatoo-regularandtoohandsomeface.
Theywerethenewblood,thenewmafiadons,thenewlordsofthecity:Sanjay,theefficientkillerwiththemovie-starlooks;
Andrew,thegenialGoanwhodreamedoftakinghisseatonthemafiacouncil;Amir,thegrizzledveteranwiththestory-teller’sgift;Faisal,thecold-heartedenforcerwhoonlyaskedonequestion-Finger,arm,leg,orneck?-whenhewasgivenanassignment;Farid,knownastheFixer,whosolvedproblemswithfireandfear,andwho’draisedsixmuchyoungerbrothersandsisters,alone,whenhisparentsdiedinacholera-infestedslum;andSalman,thequietone,thehumbleone,thenaturalleader,whocontrolledthelivesofhundredsinthelittleempirethathe’dinheritedandheldbyforce.
Andtheyweremyfriends.Morethanfriends,theyweremybrothersintheirbrotherhoodofcrime.Wewerebondedtooneanotherinblood-notallofitotherpeople’s-andboundlessobligation.IfIneededthem,nomatterwhatI’ddone,nomatterwhatIwantedthemtodo,theywouldcome.Iftheyneededme,Iwasthere,withoutcavilorregret.Theyknewtheycouldcountonme.TheyknewthatwhenKhaderhadaskedmetojoinhiminhiswarI’dgonewithhim,andI’dputmylifeontheline.IknewIcouldcountonthem.WhenI’dneededhim,AbdullahhadbeentheretohelpmedealwithMaurizio’sbody.It’sasignificanttest,askingsomeonetohelpyoudisposeofamurderedman’sbody.Notmanypassit.Everymanatthetablehadpassedthattest;someofthemmorethanonce.Theywereasolidcrew,tousetheAustralianprisonslang.Theyweretheperfectcrewforme,anoutlawwithapriceonmyhead.I’dneverfeltsosafe-notevenwithKhaderbhai’sprotection-andInevershould’vefeltalone.
ButIwasalone,andfortworeasons.Themafiawastheirs,notmine.Forthem,theorganisationalwayscamefirst.ButIwasloyaltothemen,notthemafia;tothebrothers,notthebrotherhood.Iworkedforthemafia,butIdidn’tjoinit.I’mnotajoiner.Ineverfoundacluborclanorideathatwasmoreimportanttomethanthemenandwomenwhobelievedinit.
Andtherewasanotherdifferencebetweenthemeninthatgroupandme-adifferencesoprofoundthatfriendship,onitsown,couldn’tsurmountit.Iwastheonlymanatthattablewhohadn’tkilledahumanbeing,inhotbloodorcold.EvenAndrew,amiableandgarrulousyoungAndrew,hadfiredhisBerettaatacorneredenemy-oneoftheSapnakillers-andemptiedallsevenroundsofthemagazineintotheman’schestuntilhewas,asSanjaywould’vesaid,twoorthreetimesdead.
Justatthatmomentthedifferencessuddenlyseemedimmenseandunconquerabletome-fargreaterandmoresignificantthanthehundredtalents,desires,andtendenciesthatwehadincommon.Iwasslippingawayfromthem,rightthereandthen,atthelongtableintheTaj.WhileAmirtoldhisstoriesandItriedtonodandsmileandlaughwiththeothers,griefcametoclaimme.Thedaythathadstartedwell,andshould’vebeenlikeanyother,hadspunaskewwithSalman’slittlewords.Theroomwaswarm,butIwascold.Mybellyhungered,butIcouldn’teat.Iwassurroundedbyfriends,inavast,crowdedrestaurant,butIwaslonelierthanamujaheddinsentryonthenightbeforebattle.
AndthenIlookeduptoseeLisaCarterwalkintotherestaurant.
Herlong,blondehairhadbeencut.Thenewshortstylesuitedheropen,honest,prettyface.Shewasdressedinpaleblue-herfavouritecolour-alooseshirtandpants,withmatchingbluesunglassesproppedinherthickhair.Shelookedlikeacreatureoflight,acreaturemadeoutofskyandclean,whitelight.
WithoutconsideringwhatIwasdoing,Istoodandexcusedmyself,andleftmyfriends.ShesawmeasIapproachedher.Asmileasbigasagambler’spromiseunveiledherfaceassheopenedherarmstohugme.Andthensheknew.Onehandreacheduptotouchmyface,herfingertipsreadingthebrailleofscars,whiletheotherhandtookmyarmtoleadmeoutoftherestaurantandintothefoyer.
“Ihaven’tseenyouforweeks,”shesaidaswesattogetherinaquietcorner.“What’swrong?”
“Nothing,”Ilied.“Wereyougoingintohavesomelunch?”
“No.Justcoffee.I’vegotaroomhere,intheoldpart,lookingoutovertheGateway.It’samillion-dollarview,andagreatroom.I’vegotitforthreedayswhileLettiesewsupadealwithabigproducer.Thisisoneofthefringebenefitsshemanagedtosqueezeoutofhim.Themoviebusiness-whatcanIsay?”
“How’sitgoing?”
“Great,”shesmiled.“Lettieloveseveryminuteofit.Shedealswithallthestudiosandthebookingagentsnow.She’sbetteratitthanme.Shedrivesabetterdealforuseverytime.AndIdothetourists.Ilikethatpartbetter.Ilikemeetingthemandworkingwiththem.”
“Andyoulikeitthatsoonerorlater,nomatterhownicetheyare,theyalwaysgoaway?”
“Yeah.That,too.”
“How’sVikram?Ihaven’tseenhimsince-sincethelasttimeIsawyouandLettie.”
“He’scool.YouknowVikram.He’sgotalotmoretimeonhishandsnow.Hemissesthestuntthing.Hewasreallybigonthat,andhewasgreatatit.ButitdroveLettiecrazy.Hewasalwaysjumpingoffmovingtrucksandcrashingthroughwindowsandstuff.
Andsheworriedalot.Soshemadehimgiveitup.”
“What’shedoingnow?”
“He’skindoftheboss,youknow?Liketheexecutivevicepresidentofthecompany-theoneLettiestarted,withKavitaandKarlaandJeet.Andme.”Shepaused,onthevergeofsayingsomething,andthenplungedon.“Shewasaskingafteryou.”
Istaredbackather,sayingnothing.“Karla,”sheexplained.“Shewantstoseeyou,Ithink.”
Iheldthesilence.Iwasenjoyingit,alittle,thatsomanyemotionswerechasingoneanotheracrossthesoft,unblemishedlandscapeofherface.
“Haveyouseenanyofhisstunts?”sheasked.
“Vikram’s?”
“Yeah.HedidawholelotbeforeLettiemadehimstop.”
“I’vebeenbusy.ButIreallywanttocatchupwithVikram.”
“Whydon’tyou?”
“Iwill.Iheardhe’shangingoutattheColabaMarketeveryday,andI’vebeenwantingtoseehim.I’mworkingalotofnights,soIhaven’tbeentoLeopold’slately.It’sjust…I’vebeen…busy.”
“Iknow,”shesaidsoftly.“Maybetoobusy,Lin.Youdon’tlooktoogood.”
“Gimmeabreak,”Isighed,tryingtolaugh.“Iworkouteveryday.Idoboxingorkarateeveryotherday.Ican’tgetanyfitterthanthis.”
“YouknowwhatImean,”sheinsisted.
“Yeah,Iknowwhatyoumean.Listen,Ishouldletyougo…”
“No.Youshouldn’t.”
“Ishouldn’t?”Iasked,fakingasmile.
“No.Youshouldcomewithme,now,tomyroom.Wecanhavecoffeesentup.Comeon.Let’sgo.”
Andshewasright:itwasaspectacularview.TouristferriesboundforthecavesonElephantaIsland,orreturningtoshore,roseupthewaveletsandrolledovertheminproud,practisedglissades.Hundredsofsmallercraftdippedandnoddedlikepreeningbirdsintheshallowwaterwhilehugecargovessels,anchoredtothehorizon,laymotionlessonthatcuspofcalmwheretheoceanbecamethebay.Onthestreetbelowus,paradingtouristswovecolouredgarlandswiththeirmovementsthroughandaroundthetall,stonygalleryoftheGatewayMonument.
Shekickedoffhershoesandsatcross-leggedonthebed.Isatnearherontheedgeofthebed.Istaredatthefloornearthedoor.Wewerequietforawhile,listeningtothenoisesthatpushedtheirwayintotheroomwithabreezethatcausedthecurtainstoriffle,swell,andfall.
“Ithink,”shebegan,takingadeepbreath,“youshouldcomeandlivewithme.”
“Well,that’s-”
“Hearmeout,”shecutin,raisingbothpalmstosilenceme.
“Please.”
“Ijustdon’tthink-”
“Please.”
“Okay,”Ismiled,sittingfurtheralongthebedtorestmybackagainstthebed-head.
“Ifoundanewplace.It’sinTardeo.IknowyoulikeTardeo.SodoI.AndIknowyou’llliketheapartment,becauseit’sexactlythekindofplacewebothlike.AndIthinkthat’swhatI’mtryingtogetat,ortryingtosay-welikethesamethings,Lin.
Andwegotalotincommon.Webothbeatthedope.That’safuckin’hardthingtodo,andyouknowit.Andnotmanypeopledoit.Butwedid-webothdid-andIthinkthat’sbecausewe’realike,youandme.We’dbegood,Lin.We’dbe…we’dberealgood.”
“Ican’tsay…forsure…thatIbeatthedope,Lisa.”
“Youdid,Lin.”
“No.Ican’tsayIwon’tevertouchitagain,soIcan’tsayIbeatit.”
“Butthat’sevenmorereasontogettogether,don’tyousee?”sheinsisted,hereyespleadingandclosetotears.“I’llkeepyoustraight.IcansayIwon’tevertouchitagain,becauseIhatethestuff.Ifwe’retogether,wecanworkthemoviebusiness,andhavefun,andwatchoutforeachother.”
“There’stoomuch…”
“Listen,ifyou’reworriedaboutAustralia,andjail,wecouldgosomewhereelse-somewherethey’llneverfindus.”
“Whotoldyouaboutthat?”Iasked,keepingmyfacestraight.
“Karladid,”sheansweredevenly.“Itwasinthesamelittleconversationwehadonce,whereshetoldmetolookafteryou.”
“Karlasaidthat?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Alongtimeago.Iaskedheraboutyou-aboutwhatherfeelingswere,andwhatshewantedtodo.”
“Why?”
“Whaddayamean,why?”
“Imean,”Irepliedslowly,reachingouttocoverherhandwithmine,“whydidyouaskKarlaaboutherfeelings?”
“BecauseIhadacrushonyou,stupid!”sheexplained,holdingmyeyeforasecondandthenlookingawayagain.“That’swhyIwentwithAbdullah-tomakeyoujealous,orinterested,andjusttobeclosetoyou,throughhim,becausehewasyourfriend.”
“Jesus,”Isighed.“I’msorry.”
“IsitstillKarla?”sheasked,hereyesfollowingtheriseandbreathlessfallofthecurtainsatthewindow.“Areyoustillinlovewithher?”
“No.”
“Butyoustillloveher.”
“Yes.”
“And…howaboutme?”sheasked.
Ididn’tanswerbecauseIdidn’twanthertoknowthetruth.Ididn’twanttoknowthetruthmyself.AndthesilencethickenedandswelleduntilIcouldfeelthetinglingpressureofitonmyskin.
“I’vegotthisfriend,”shesaidatlast.“He’sanartist.Asculptor.Hisname’sJason.Haveyouevermethim?”
“No,Idon’tthinkso.”
“He’sanEnglishguy,andhe’sgotarealEnglishwayoflookingatthings.It’sdifferentthanourway,ourAmericanway,Imean.
He’sgotabigstudiooutnearJuhuBeach.Igotheresometimes.”
Shewassilentagain.Wesatthere,feelingthebreezealternatelywarmandcoolastheairfromthestreetandthebayswirledintotheroom.Icouldfeelhereyesonmelikeablushofshame.Istaredatourtwohandsjoinedandrestingonthebed.
“ThelasttimeIwentthere,hewasworkingonthisnewidea.Hewasfillingemptypackagingwithplaster,usingthebubblepacksthatusedtohavetoysinthem,youknow,andthefoamboxesyougetpackedaroundanewT.Vset.Hecallsthemnegativespaces.
Heusesthemlikeamould,andhemakesasculptureoutofthem.
Hehadahundredthingsthere-shapesmadeoutofeggcartons,andtheblister-packthatanewtoothbrushcamein,andtheemptypackagethathadasetofheadphonesinit.”
Iturnedtolookather.Theskyinhereyesheldtinystorms.
Herlips,embossedwithsecretthoughts,wereswollentothetruthshewastryingtotellme.
“Iwalkedaroundthere,inhisstudio,youknow,lookingatallthesewhitesculptures,andIthought,that’swhatIam.That’swhatI’vealwaysbeen.Allmylife.Negativespace.Alwayswaitingforsomeone,orsomething,orsomekindofrealfeelingtofillmeupandgivemeareason…”
WhenIkissedher,thestormfromherblueeyescameintoourmouths,andthetearsthatslidacrossherlemon-scentedskinweresweeterthanhoneyfromthesacredbeesinMombadevi’sJasmineTemplegarden.Ilethercryforus.Iletherliveanddieforusinthelong,slowstoriesourbodiestold.Then,whenthetearsstopped,shesurroundeduswithpoisedandfluentbeauty-abeautythatwashersalone:borninherbraveheart,andsubstantialisedinthetruthofherloveandherflesh.Anditalmostworked.
WekissedagainasIpreparedtoleaveherroom-goodfriends,lovers,gatheredintooneanotherthenandforeverbytheclashandcaressofourbodies,butnotquitehealedbyit,notquitecuredbyit.Notyet.
“She’sstillthere,isn’tshe?”Lisasaid,wrappingatowelaroundherbodytostandinthebreezeatthewindow.
“I’vegotthebluestoday,Lisa.Idon’tknowwhy.It’sbeenalongday.Butthat’snothingtodowithus.Youandme…thatwasgood-forme,anyway.”
“Forme,too.ButIthinkshe’sstillthere,Lin.”
“No,Iwasn’tlyingbefore.I’mnotinlovewithheranymore.
Somethinghappened,whenIcamebackfromAfghanistan.OrmaybeithappenedinAfghanistan.Itjust…stopped.”
“I’mgoingtotellyousomething,”shemurmuredandthenturnedtofaceme,speakinginastronger,clearervoice.“It’sabouther.Ibelieveyou,whatyousaid,butIthinkyouhavetoknowthisbeforeyoucanreallysayit’soverwithher.”
“Idon’tneed-”
“Please,Lin!It’sagirlthing.Ihavetotellyoubecauseyoucan’treallysayit’soverwithherunlessyouknowthetruthabouther-unlessyouknowwhatmakeshertick.IfItellyou,anditdoesn’tchangeanythingormakeyoufeeldifferentthanhowyoufeelnow,thenI’llknowyou’refree.”
“Andifitdoesmakeadifference?”
“Well,maybeshedeservesasecondchance.Idon’tknow.IcanonlytellyouIneverunderstoodKarlaatalluntilshetoldme.
Shemadesense,afterthat.So…Iguessyouhavetoknow.
Anyway,ifthere’sanythinggonnahappenforus,Iwantittobeclear-thepast,Imean.”
“Okay,”Irelented,sittinginachairnearthedoor.“Goahead.”
Shesatonthebedoncemore,drawingherkneesupunderherchininthetightwrapofthetowel.Therewerechangesinher,andIcouldn’thelpnoticingthem-akindofhonesty,maybe,inthewayherbodymoved,andanew,almostlanguorousreleasethatsoftenedhereyes.Theywerelove-changes,andbeautifulforthat,andIwonderedifshesawanyoftheminme,sittingstillandquietnearthedoor.
“DidKarlatellyouwhyshelefttheStates?”sheasked,knowingtheanswer.
“No,”Ireplied,choosingnottorepeatthelittlethatKhaledhadtoldmeonthenightthathewalkedintothesnow.
“Ididn’tthinkso.Shetoldmeshewasn’tgoingtotellyouaboutit.Isaidshewascrazy.Isaidshehadtolevelwithyou.
Butshewouldn’t.It’sfunnyhowitgoes,isn’tit?Iwantedhertotellyou,then,becauseIthoughtitmightputyouoffher.
Now,I’mtellingyou,sothatyoucangiveheronemorechance-ifyouwantto.Anyway,hereitis.KarlalefttheStatesbecauseshehadto.Shewasrunningaway…becauseshekilledaguy.”
Ilaughed.Itwasasmallchuckle,atfirst,butitrolledandrumbledhelplesslyintoabellylaugh.Idoubledover,leaningonmythighsforsupport.
“It’sreallynotthatfunny,Lin.”Lisafrowned.
“No,”Ilaughed,strugglingtoregaincontrol.“It’snot…that.It’sjust…_shit!IfyouknewhowmanytimesIworriedaboutbringingmycrazy,fuckeduplifeto_her!IkepttellingmyselfIhadnorighttoloveherbecauseIwasontherun.Yougottaadmit,it’sprettyfunny.”
Shestaredatme,rockingslightlyasshehuggedherknees.Shewasn’tlaughing.
“Okay,”Iexhaled,pullingmyselftogether.“Okay.Goon.”
“Therewasthisguy,”shecontinued,inatonethatmadeitclearhowserioussheconsideredthesubject.“Hewasthefatherofoneofthekidssheusedtobaby-sitfor,whenshewasakidherself.”
“Shetoldmeaboutit.”
“Shedid?Okay,thenyouknow.Andnobodydidanythingaboutit.
Anditmessedherupprettybad.Andthen,oneday,shegotherselfagun,andshewenttohishousewhenhewasalone,andsheshothim.Sixtimes.Twointhechest,shesaid,andfourinthecrotch.”
“Didtheyknowitwasher?”
“She’snotsure.Sheknowsshedidn’tleaveanyprintsthere,atthehouse.Andnobodysawherleave.Shegotridofthegun.Andshescrammedoutofthere,rightoutofthecountry,realfast.
She’sneverbeenback,soshedoesn’tknowifthere’sasheetonherornot.”
Isatbackinthechairandletoutalong,slowbreath.Lisawatchedmeclosely,herblueeyesnarrowingslightlyandremindingmeofthewayshe’dlookedatmeonthatnight,yearsbefore,inKarla’sapartment.
“Isthereanymore?”
“No,”sheanswered,shakingherheadslowly,butholdingmyeyesinthestare.“That’sit.”
“Okay,”Isighed,runningahandovermyface,andstandingtoleave.Iwenttoher,andkneltonthebedbesideher,withmyfaceclosetohers.“I’mgladyoutoldme,Lisa.Itmakesalotofthings…clearer…Iguess.Butitdoesn’tchangeanythinginhowIfeel.I’dliketohelpher,ifIcould,butIcan’tforget…whathappened…andIcan’tforgiveit,either.IwishIcould.It’dmakethingsaloteasier.It’sbad,lovingsomeoneyoucan’tforgive.”
“It’snotasbadaslovingsomeoneyoucan’thave,”shecountered,andIkissedher.
Irodetheelevatordowntothefoyeralonewiththecrowdofmymirrorselves:besideandbehindme,stillandsilent,notoneofthemwasabletomeetmyeye.Oncethroughtheglassdoors,IwalkeddownthemarblestepsandacrossthewideforecourtoftheGatewayMonumenttothesea.BeneaththearchedshadowIleanedontheseawallandlookedoutattheboatscarryingtouristsbacktothemarina.Howmanyofthoselives,Iwondered,watchingthetravellersposeforoneanother’scameras,arehappyandcarefreeand…simplyfree?Howmanyofthemaresorrowing?Howmanyare…
Andthenthefulldarknessofthatlong-resistedgrievingclosedaroundme.IrealisedthatforsometimeI’dbeengrittingmyteethandthatmyjawwascrampedandstiff,butIcouldn’tunlockthemuscles.Iturnedmyheadtoseeoneofthestreetboys,someoneIknewwell,doingbusinesswithayoungtourist.
Theboy,Mukul,senthiseyesleftandright,lizardquick,andpassedasmall,whitepackettothetourist.Themanwasabouttwentyyearsold:tallandfitandhandsome.IguessedhimtobeaGermanstudent,andIhadagoodeye.Hehadn’tbeeninthecitylong.Iknewthesigns.Hewasnewblood,withmoneytoburnandthewholeworldofexperienceopentohim.Andtherewasaspringinhisstepashewalkedawaytojoinhisfriends.Buttherewaspoisoninthepacketinhishand.Ifitdidn’tkillhimoutright,inahotelroomsomewhere,itwoulddeepeninhislife,maybe,asitdidonceinmine,untilitpoisonedeverybreathingsecond.
Ididn’tcare-notabouthimormeoranyone.Iwantedit.Iwantedthedrug,justthen,morethananythingintheworld.Myskinrememberedthesatin-flushofecstasyandthelichenstippledcreepoffeverandfear.Thesmell-tastewassostrongthatIfeltmyselfretchingit.Thehungerforoblivion,painless,guiltless,andunsorrowing,swirledinme,shiveringfrommyspinetothethick,healthyveinsinmyarms.AndIwantedit:thegoldenminuteinheroin’slongleadennight.
Mukulcaughtmyeyeandsmiledfromhabit,butthesmiletwitchedandcrumbledintouncertainty.Andthenheknew.Hehadagoodeye,too.Helivedonthestreet,andheknewthelook.Sothesmilereturned,butitwasdifferent.Therewasseductioninit-It’srighthere…I’vegotitrighthere…It’sgoodstuff…Comeandgetit-andthedealer’stiny,vicious,littlesneeroftriumph.You’renobetterthanme…You’renotmuchatall…Andsoonerorlater,you’llbegmeforit…
Thedaywasdying.Eachjewelledshimmer,dazzlingfromthewavesinthebay,turnedfromglitteringwhitetopink,andweak,bloodred.SweatranintomyeyesasIstaredbackatMukul.Myjawsached,andmylipsquiveredwiththestrainofit:thestrainofnotresponding,notspeaking,notnoddingmyhead.Iheardavoiceorrememberedit:Allyouhavetodoisnodyourhead,that’sallyouhavetodo,andit’llallbe_over…Andgrievingtearsboiledupinme,relentlessasthegatheringtidethatslappedagainsttheseawall.ButIcouldn’tcrythem,thosetears,andIfeltthatIwasdrowninginasorrowthatwasbiggerthantheheartthattriedtoholdit.Ipressedmyhandsdownonthelittlemountainrangeofthefacetedbluestonesonthetopoftheseawall,asifIcoulddrivemyfingersintothecityandsavemyselfbyclingingtoher.
ButMukul…Mukulsmiled,promisingpeace.AndIknewthereweresomanywaystofindthatpeace-Icouldsmokeitinacigarette,orchaseitonapieceoffoil,orsnortit,orpuffitinachillum,orspikeitintomyvein,orjusteatit,justswallowitandwaitforthecreepingnumbnesstosmothereverypainontheplanet.AndMukul,readingthesweatingagonylikeadirtypageinadirtybook,inchedhiswayclosertome,slidingalongthewetstonewall.Andheknewit.Hekneweverything.
Ahandtouchedmyshoulder.Mukulflinchedasifhe’dbeenkicked,andbackedawayfromme,hisdeadeyesdwindlingtonothingintheburningsplendourofthesettingsun.AndIturnedmyheadtostareintothefaceofaghost.ItwasAbdullah,myAbdullah,mydeadfriend,killedinapoliceambushtoomanysufferingmonthsbefore.Hislonghairwascutshortandthicklikeamoviestar’s.Hisblackclothesweregone.Heworeawhiteshirtandgreytrouserswithafashionablecut.Andtheyseemedstrange,thosedifferentclothes-almostasstrangeasseeinghimstandingthere.ButitwasAbdullahTaheri,hisghost,ashandsomeasOmarSharifonhisthirtiethbirthday,aslethalasabigcatprowling,ablackpanther,andwiththoseeyesthecolourofsandinthepalmofyourhandahalf-hourbeforesunset.Abdullah.
“Itissogoodtoseeyou,Linbrother.Shallwegoinsideanddrinksomechai?”
Thatwasit.Justthat.
“Well,I…Ican’tdothat.”
“Whynot?”theghostasked,frowning.
“Well,forstarters,”Imumbled,shieldingmyeyesfromthelateafternoonsunwithmyhandasIstaredupathim,“becauseyou’redead.”
“Iamnotdead,Linbrother.”
“Yes…”
“No.DidyouspeaktoSalman?”
“Salman?”
“Yes.Hearrangedit,formetomeetwithyou,intherestaurant.
Itwasasurprise.”
“Salman…toldme…therewasasurprise.”
“AndIamthesurprise,Linbrother,”theghostsmiled.“Youwerecomingtomeetme.Hewassupposedtobemakingitasurpriseforyou.Butyoulefttherestaurant.Andtheothers,theyhavebeenwaitingforyou.Butyoudidn’tcomeback,soIwenttofindyou.
Nowthesurpriseisreallyashocks.”
“Don’tsaythat!”Isnapped,rememberingsomethingPrabakerhadoncesaidtome,andstillreeling,stillconfused.
“Whynot?”
“Itdoesn’tmatter!Fuck,Abdullah…thisis…thisisafuckin’weirddream,man.”
“Iamback,”hesaidcalmly,alittlefrownofworrycreasinghisbrow.“Iamhere,again.Iwasshot.Thepolice.Youknowaboutit.”
Thetoneoftheconversationwasmatter-of-fact.Thefadingskybehindhishead,andthepassers-byonthestreet,wereunremarkable.Nothingmatchedtheblurandstreakofadream.Yetithadtobeadream.Thentheghostliftedhiswhiteshirttorevealhismanywounds,healedandhealingintodark-skinnedrings,whirls,andthumb-thickgashes.
“Look,Linbrother,”thedeadmansaid.“Iwasshot,yes,manytimes,butIdidlive.TheytookmybodyfromtheCrawfordMarketpolicestation.TheytookmetoThanaforthefirsttwomonths.
ThentheytookmetoDelhi.Iwasinhospitalforoneyear.Itwasaprivatehospital,notfarfromDelhi.Itwasayearofmanyoperations.Notagoodyear,Linbrother.Thenitwasalmostanotheryeartobecomewell,Nushkur’allah.”
“Abdullah,”Isaid,reachingouttohughim.Thebodywasstrong.
Warm.Alive.Iheldhimtightly,clampingmyhandtomywristbehindhisback.Ifeltthepressofhisearagainstmyface,andsmeltthesoaponhisskin.Iheardhisvoicepassingfromhischesttominelikeoceansonancies,soundingandresounding,waveonwavethroughshoresoftight-wetsandatnight.Eyesclosed,andclingingtohim,IfloatedonthedarkwaterofthesorrowingI’ddoneforhim,forbothofus.Heart-crippledwithfearthatIwasmad,thatitreallywasadream,anightmare,IheldhimuntilIfeltthestronghandspushmegentlytothelengthofhisextendedarms.
“Itisokay,Lin,”hesmiled.Thesmilewascomplex,shiftingfromaffectiontosolace,andalittleshocked,perhaps,attheemotioninmyeyes.“Itisokay.”
“It’snotokay!”Igrowled,breakingawayfromhim.“Whatthefuckhappened?Wherethefuckhaveyoubeen?Andwhythefuckdidn’tyou_tellme?”
“No.Icouldnottellyou.”
“Bullshit!Ofcourseyoucould!Don’tbesostupid!”
“No,”heinsisted,runningahandthroughhishairandsquintinghiseyestofixmewithadeterminedstare.“Doyouremember,onetime,wewereridingthemotorcycles,andwesawsomemen?TheywerefromIran.Itoldyoutowaitatthemotorcycles,butyoudidnot.Youfollowedme,andwefoughtthosementogether.Doyouremember?”
“Yes.”
“Theywereenemiesofmine.AndtheywereKhaderKhan’senemies,also.TheyhadaconnecttotheIransecretpolice,thenewSavak.”
“Canwe-waitaminute,”Iinterrupted,reachingbackwardstosupportmyselfagainsttheseawall.“Ineedacigarette.”
Iflippedopentheboxtoofferhimone.
“Didyouforget?”heasked,grinninghappily.“Idonotsmokethecigarettes.Andyoushouldnotalso,Linbrother.Ionlysmokethehashish.Ihavesome,ifyouwouldlike?”
“Fuckthat,”Ilaughed,lightingup.“I’mnotgettingstonedwithaghost.”
“Thosemen-themenwefought-theydidsomebusinesshere.
Mostlydrugsbusiness,butsometimesgunsbusinessandsometimespassports.Andtheywerespiesagainstus,reportingaboutanyofusfromIranwhoranawayfromtheIraqwar.IwasonemanwhoranawayfromtheIraqwar.Manythousandsranawaytohere,India,andmanythousandswhohateAyatollahKhomeini.ThespiesfromIran,theymadereportsaboutustothenewSavakinIran.
AndtheyhateKhaderbecausehewanttohelpthemujaheddininAfghanistanandbecausehedidhelpsomanyofusfromIran.Youunderstandthisbusiness,Linbrother?”
Iunderstoodit.TheIranianexpatriatecommunityinBombaywashuge,andIhadmanyfriendswho’dlosttheirhomelandandtheirfamilies,andwerestrugglingtosurvive.SomeofthemworkedinexistingmafiagangslikeKhader’scouncil.Othershadformedtheirowngangs,hiringthemselvesouttodothewetwork,inabusinessthatgotalittlebloodiereveryworkingday.IknewthattheIraniansecretpolicehadspiescirculatingamongtheexiles,reportingonthemandsometimesgettingtheirownhandsalittledamp.
“Goon,”Isaid,takingagulpofsmokyairfrommycigarette.
“Whenthosemen,thosespies,madetheirreports,ourfamiliesinIranhadverybadsuffering.Somemothers,brothers,fathers,theyputthemintothesecretpoliceprison.Theytorturepeopleinthatplace.Someofthepeople,theydied.Myownsister-theytortureandrapeherbecauseofthereportsaboutme.Myownuncle,heiskilledwhenmyfamilycannotpaytothesecretpolicequickenough.WhenIfindoutaboutthat,ItoldtoAbdelKhaderKhanthatIwanttoleavehim,soIcanfightthem,thosemenwhoarespiesfromIran.Hetoldmenottoleave.Hesaidtomethatwewillfightthemtogether.Hetoldmethatwewillfindthem,onebyone,andhepromisemethathewillhelpmetokillthemall.”
“Khaderbhai…”Isaid,breathingsmoke.
“Andwefoundthem,someofthem,Faridandme,withKhader’shelp.Therewasninemen,atthestart.Wefoundsixmen.Thosemen,wefinished.Theotherthreeofthemdidlive.Threemen.Andtheyknewsomethingaboutus-theyknewthatthereisaspyinthecouncil,veryclosetoKhaderKhan.”
“AbdulGhani.”
“Yes,”hesaid,turninghisheadtospitatthementionofthetraitor’sname.“Ghani,hecamefromPakistan.HehadmanyfriendsinthePakistansecretpolice.TheISI.TheyworkinsecretwiththeIransecretpolice,thenewSavak,andwithCIA,andwithMossad.”
Inodded,listeningtohim,andthinkingaboutsomethingAbdulGhanihadsaidtomeonce:Allthesecretpoliceoftheworldworktogether,Lin,andthatistheirbiggestsecret.
“So,thePakistanISItoldtheIraniansecretpoliceabouttheircontactontheKhadercouncil.”
“AbdulGhani.Yes,”hereplied.“InIrantheywereveryworried.
Sixgoodtraitorsgone.Nobodyevercanfindthebodiesofthosetraitors.Onlythreewereleft.ThethreemenfromIran,sothentheyworkwithAbdulGhani.Hetoldthemhowtomakeatrapforme.Atthattime,doyouremember,wedidnotknowit,thatSapna,hewasworkingforGhaniandplanningtomoveagainstus.
Khaderdidnotknow.Ididnotknow.IfIknewthat,IwouldputthepiecesofthoseSapnamenintoHassaanObikwa’sholeinthegroundmyself.ButIdidnotknow.WhenIcameintothetrap,neartoCrawfordMarket,themenfromIranfirethefirsttimefromaplacenearme.Thepolice,theythinkthatIamfiringmygun.Theyfireatme.Iamdying,Iknow,soItakemygunsandIshootatthepolice.Therest,youknow.”
“Notallofit,”Igrunted.“Notenough.Iwastherethatnight,thenightyougotshot.IwasinthecrowdatCrawfordMarketpolicestation.Itwaswild.Everyonesaidyouwereshotsomanytimesthatyourfacewasunrecognisable.”
“Therewassomuchblood.ButKhader’smen,theydidknowme.
Theymakeariotandthentheyfightstepandstepintothepolicestation,andtheytakemybodyoutofthereandawaytothehospital.Khaderhadatrucknearthere,andhehadadoctor–youknowhim,DoctorHamid,doyourememberhim?-andtheysavedme.”
“Khaledwastherethatnight.Washetheonewhorescuedyou?”
“No.Khaledwasoneofthemenwhomaketheriot.ItwasFaridwhotookmybody.”“FaridtheFixergotyououtofthere?”Igasped,stunnedthathe’dsaidnothingaboutitinalltheclosemonthswe’dworkedtogether.“Andhe’sknownaboutitallthistime?”
“Yes.Ifyouhaveasecret,Lin,putitintheheartofFarid.Heisthebestofthem,mybrother,nowthatAbdelKhaderisgone.
AfterNazeer,Faridisthebestofthem.Neverforgetthat.”
“Whataboutthethreeguys?ThethreeIranianguys?Whathappenedtothemafteryougotshot?DidKhadergetthem?”
“No.WhenAbdelKhaderkilledSapnaandhismen,theyranawaytoDelhi.”
“OneoftheSapnaguysgotaway.Youknowthat?”
“Yes,hewenttoDelhialso.WhenIwasstrongagain-notcompletelyfixupyet,butstrongenoughtofight-justtwomonthsago,Iwenttolookforthefourmenandtheirfriends.Ifoundoneofthem.OnefromIran.Ifinishhim.Nowthereareonlythreeleftfromthattime-twospiesfromIran,andoneSapnakillerfromGhani.”
“Doyouknowwheretheyare?”
“Here.Inthecity.”
“You’resure?”
“Iamsure.ThatiswhyIhavecomebacktoBombay.Butnow,Linbrother,wemustreturntothehotel.Salmanandtheothers,theyarewaitingforus,upstairs.Theywanttomakeaparty.TheywillbehappyIcanfindyou-theydidseeyouleaving,hoursbefore,withabeautifulgirl,andtheytoldmeIwillnotfindyou.”
“ItwasLisa,”Isaid,glancingunconsciouslyovermyshoulderatthebedroomwindowonthefirstflooroftheTaj.“Doyou…wanttoseeher?”
“No,”hesmiled.“Ididmeetsomeone-Farid’scousin,Ameena.Shehasbeenlookingaftermeformorethanayear.Sheisagoodgirl.Wewanttobemarried.”
“Getthefuckouttahere!”Ispluttered,moreshockedbyhisintentiontomarrythanIwasbyhissurvivalofthekillingfusillade.
“Yes,”hegrinned,reachingouttogivemeanimpulsivehug.“Butcomeon,theothersarewaiting.Challo.”
“Yougoahead,”Iansweredhim,smilingtomatchhishappygrin.
“I’llbewithyousoon.”
“No,come,Lin,”heurged.“Comenow.”
“Ineedaminute,”Iinsisted.“I’llbethere…inaminute.”
Hehesitatedamomentmorebutthensmiled,noddedhishead,andwalkedbackthroughthedomedarchtowardtheTajHotel.
Eveningdimmedtheafternoon’sbrighthalo.Ahazeofdustysmokeandvapourmistedthehorizon,sizzlingsoundlessly,asiftheskyatthedistantwalloftheworldwasdissolvingintothewatersofthebay.Mostoftheboatsandferriesweresafelytiedtotheirmooringpostsatthedockbeneathme.Othersroseandfellandroseagain,swayingonthesecuretethersoftheirseaanchors.HightidepushedtheswollenwavesagainstthelongstonewallwhereIstood.Hereandtherealongtheboulevard,frothyplumes,likegaspsofeffort,slappedup,over,andontothewhitefootpaths.Strollerswalkedaroundtheintermittentfountains,orranlaughingthroughthesuddenboomandspray.Inthelittleseasofmyeyes,thosetinyblue-greyoceans,wavesoftearspushedhardagainstthewallofmywill.
Didyousendhim?IwhisperedtothedeadKhan,myfather.
Assassingriefhadpushedmetothatwallwherethestreetboyssoldheroin.Andthen,whenitwasalmosttoolate,Abdullahhadappeared.Didyousendhimtosaveme?
Thesettingsun,thatfuneralfireinthesky,searedmyeyes,andIlookedawaytofollowthelastflaresofceriseandmagentastreamingoutandfadingintheocean-mirroredsapphireoftheevening.Andstaringoutacrosstherileandruffleofthebay,Itriedtofitmyfeelingswithinaframeofthoughtandfact.
Strangely,weirdly,I’dre-foundAbdullahandre-lostKhaderbhaionthesameday,inthesamehour.Andtheexperienceofit,thefactofit,theinescapablyfatedimperativeofit,helpedmetounderstand.ThesorrowingI’dshunnedhadtakensolongtofindmebecauseIcouldn’tlethimgo.Inmyheart,IstillheldhimastightlyasI’dhuggedAbdullahonlyminutesbefore.Inmyheart,Iwasstillthereonthemountain,kneelinginthesnowandcradlingthehandsomeheadinmyarms.
Asthestarsslowlyreappearedinthesilentendlessnessofsky,Icutthelastmooringropeofgrief,andsurrenderedtotheallsustainingtideofdestiny.Ilethimgo.Isaidthewords,thesacredwords:Iforgiveyou…
Anditwasgood.Anditwasright.Iletthetearsfall.Iletmyheartbreakonmyfather’slove,likethetallwavesbesidemethathurledtheirchestsagainstthewall,andbledontothewide,whitepath.
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CHAPTERFORTY
ThewordmafiacomesfromtheSicilianwordforbragging.Andifyouaskanyseriousmanwhocommitsseriouscrimesforaliving,he’lltellyouit’sjustthat-theboasting,thepride-thatgetsmostofusintheend.Butweneverlearn.Maybeit’snotpossibletobreaklawswithoutboastingaboutittosomeone.
Maybeit’snotpossibletobeanoutlawwithoutbeingproudinsomeway.Certainly,inthoselastmonthsoftheoldmafia,thebrotherhoodthatKhaderbhaihaddesigned,steered,andruled,therewasplentyofboastingandnolesspride.ButitwasthelasttimethatanyofusinthatcornerofBombay’sunderworldsofcrimecould’vesaid,withcompletehonesty,thatwewereproudtobegangsters.
KhaderKhanhadbeendeadforalmosttwoyears,buthispreceptsandprinciplesstilldominatedtheday-to-dayoperationsofthemafiacouncilhe’dfounded.Khaderhadhatedheroin,andhe’drefusedtodealinthedrugorpermitanyoneelsebutdesperatelyaddictedstreetjunkiestotradeinitwithintheareashe’dcontrolled.Prostitutionhadalsoappalledhim.He’dseenitasabusinessthatinjuredwomen,degradedmen,andblightedthecommunitywhereitoccurred.Thehemisphereofhisinfluencehadextendedtoallthestreets,parks,andbuildingsacrossseveralsquarekilometres.Withinthatlittlekingdom,anymanorwomanwhohadn’tkepttheirinvolvementwithprostitutionandpornographytoverylow,verydiscreet,levelsofactivityhadriskedhiscondignpunishment.AndthatsituationprevailedunderthenewcouncilheadedbySalmanMustaan.
OldSobhanMahmoud,stillthenominalheadofthecouncil,wasgravelyill.IntheyearssinceKhaderdied,he’dsufferedtwostrokesthathadlefthisspeechandmuchofhismovementseverelyimpaired.ThecouncilmovedhimintoKhader’sbeachhouseinVersova-thesamehousewhereI’dgonethroughcoldturkeywithNazeer.Theyensuredthattheageddonhadaccesstothebestmedicaltreatments,andarrangedforhisfamilyandhisservantstoattendhim.
NazeerslowlygroomedKhader’snephew,youngTariq,forwhatmostonthecouncilassumedwouldbealeadingrole.Despitetheboy’spedigree,hismaturity,andhisunusuallysolemndemeanour-therewasno-one,manorboy,whosedour,ferventintensityremindedmesomuchofKhaled-Tariqwasdeemedtobetooyoungtoclaimacouncilpositionoreventoattendthecouncilmeetings.Instead,Nazeergavehimdutiesandresponsibilitiesthatmoregraduallyacquaintedhimwiththeworldhemightonedaycommand.Inallpracticalsenses,SalmanMustaanwasthedon,thenewKhan,theleaderofthecouncilandtherulerofKhaderbhai’smafia.AndSalman,aseveryonewhoknewhimtestified,wasKhaderbhai’sman,bodyandsoul.Hegovernedtheactionsoftheclanasifthegrey-hairedlordwasstillthere,stillalive,advisingandcautioninghiminprivatesessionseverynight.
MostofthemensupportedSalmanunquestioningly.Theyunderstoodtheprinciplesinvolved,andagreedthattheywereworthupholding.Inourareaofthecity,thewordsgoondaandgangsterweren’taninsult.Localpeopleknewthatourbranchofthemafiadidabetterjobthanthepoliceatkeepingheroinandsalaciouscrimesfromtheirstreets.Thepolice,afterall,weresusceptibletobribes.Indeed,Salman’smafiaclanfounditselfintheuniquepositionofbribingthepolice-thesamecopswho’djustbeenpaidoffbypimpsandpushers-tolookawaywhenevertheyhadtorunarecalcitrantheroindealerintoabrickwall,ortakeamashhammertoapornographer’shands.
Oldmeninthedistrictnoddedtooneanother,andcomparedtherelativecalmontheirstreetswiththechaosthattumbledandtrawledthroughthestreetsofotherdistricts.Childrenlookeduptotheyounggangsters,sometimesadoptingoneasalocalhero.Restaurants,bars,andotherbusinesseswelcomedSalman’smenaspreserversofpeaceandcomparativelyhighmoralstandards.Andtheinformingrateintheareasofhiscontrol,theamountofunsolicitedinformationsuppliedtothepolice-asureindicatorofpublicpopularityordispleasure-waslowerthaninanyotherareaacrossthewholeseethingsprawlofBombay.Wehadpride,andwehadprinciple,andwewerealmostthemenofhonourthatwebelievedourselvestobe.Still,therewereafewgrumblesofcomplaintwithintheclan,andsomecouncilmeetingshostedfierce,unresolvedargumentsaboutthefutureofthegroup.Theherointradewasmakingothermafiacouncilsrich.Newsmackmillionairesflauntedtheirimportedcars,designerclothes,andstate-of-the-artelectronicgadgetsatthemostexclusiveandexpensivevenuesinthecity.
Moresignificantly,theyusedtheirinexhaustible,opiate-basedincomestreamstohirenewmen:mercenarieswhowerepaidwelltofightdirtyandtofighthard.Littlebylittle,thosegangsexpandedtheirterritoriesinturfwarsthatleftafewofthetoughestmendead,manymorewounded,andcopsalloverthecitylightingincensestickstogivethanksfortheirluck.
Withsimilarlyhighprofitsderivedfromthenewandinsatiablemarketforimported,hard-corepornographicvideos,someoftherivalcouncilshadaccumulatedenoughmoneytoacquirethatultimatestatussymbolforanycriminalgang:ahoardofguns.
Enviousofthewealthamassedbysuchgangs,infuriatedbytheirterritorialgains,andwaryoftheirgrowingpower,someofSalmanMustaan’smenurgedhimtochangehispolicy.FirstamongthosecriticalvoiceswasthatofSanjay,Salman’soldestandclosestfriend.
“YoushouldmeetwithChuha,”Sanjaysaidearnestlyashe,Farid,Salman,andIdrankchaiatalittleshoponMaulanaAzadRoadnearthebrilliant,greenmiragesoftheMahalaxmiRacecourse.HewastalkingaboutAshokChandrashekar,aninfluentialstrong-armmanintheWalidlallagang.He’dusedAshok’snickname,Chuha,meaningtheRat.
“I’vemetwiththefucker,yaar,”Salmansighed.“Imeethimallthetime.Everytimeoneofhisguystriestosqueezeoutacornerofourterritory,ImeetwithChuhatosetitstraight.
Everytimeourguysgetinafightwithhisguys,andgivethemasolidpasting,ImeetwithChuha.Everytimehemakesanoffertojoinourcounciltohis,Imeetwithhim.Iknowthefuckertoowell.That’stheproblem.”
TheWalidlallacouncilheldacontiguousborderwithourown.
Relationsbetweenthegangsweregenerallyrespectfulbutnotcordial.Walid,theleaderoftherivalcouncil,hadbeenaclosefriendofKhaderbhaiand,withhim,wasoneoftheoriginalfoundersofthecouncilsystem.AlthoughWalidhadledhiscouncilintotheheroinandpornographytradethathe,likeKhaderbhai,hadoncedespised,he’dalsoinsistedthatnoconflictwithSalman’scouncilshouldoccur.Chuha,hissecondincommand,hadambitionsthatstrainedattheleashofWalid’scontrol.Thoseambitionsledtodisputesandevenbattlesbetweenthegangs,andalltoooftenforcedSalmantomeetwiththeRatatstifflyformaldinnersheldonneutralgroundinasuiteatafive-starhotel.
“No,butyouhaven’treallytalkedtohim,oneononelike,aboutthemoneywecanmake.Ifyoudid,Salmanbrother,Iknowyou’dfindouthetalksalotofsense.He’smakingcroresoutofthefuckin’garad,man.Thejunkiescan’tgetenoughoftheshit.Hehastobringitinbyfuckin’train.Andthebluemoviesthing,man-it’sgoingcrazy.Iswear!It’safuckin’deadlybusiness,yaar.He’smakingfivehundredcopiesofeverymovie,andsellingthemforfivehundredeach.That’stwo-and-a-halflakhs,Salman,foreveryfuckin’bluemovie!Ifyoucouldmakemoneylikethatbykillingpeople,India’spopulationproblemwouldbesolvedinamonth!Youshouldjusttalktohim,Salmanbrother.”
“Idon’tlikehim,”Salmandeclared.“AndIdon’ttrusthim,either.Oneofthesedays,IthinkI’llhavetofinishthemadachudhonceandforall.That’snotaverypromisingwaytostartupabusiness,na?”
“Ifitcomestothat,I’llkilltheganduforyou,brother,anditwillbemypleasure.Butuptothen,like,beforeweactuallyhaveto_killhim,wecanstillmakealotofmoneywithhim.”
“Idon’tthinkso.”
Sanjaylookedaroundthetableforsupport,andfinallyappealedtome.
“Comeon,Lin.Whatdoyouthink?”
“It’scouncilbusiness,Sanju,”Ireplied,smilingathisearnestness.“It’sgotnothingtodowithme.”
“Butthat’swhyI’maskingyou,Linbaba.Youcangiveusanindependentpointofview,like.YouknowChuha.Andyouknowhowmuchmoneythereisintheheroin.He’sgotsomegoodmoneyideas,don’tyouthinkso?”
“Arrey,don’taskhim!”Faridcutin.“Notunlessyouwantthetruth.”
“No,goon,”Sanjaypersisted,thegleaminhiseyesbrightening.
Helikedme,andheknewthatIlikedhim.“Tellmethetruth.
Whatdoyouthinkofhim?”
IglancedaroundatSalmanandhenodded,justasKhadermight’vedone.
“IthinkChuha’sthekindofguywhogivesviolentcrimeabadname,”Isaid.SalmanandFaridsplutteredtheirtea,laughing,andthenmoppedatthemselveswiththeirhandkerchiefs.
“Okay,”Sanjayfrowned,hiseyesstillgleaming.“So,what…exactly…don’tyoulikeabouthim?”
IglancedagainatSalman.Hegrinnedbackatme,raisinghiseyebrowsandthepalmsofhishandsinaDon’tlookatmegesture.
“Chuha’sastand-overman,”Ireplied.“AndIdon’tlikestandovermen.”
“He’sawhat?”
“Astand-overman,Sanjay.Hebeatsuponmenheknowscan’tfightback,andtakeswhateverhewantsfromthem.Inmycountry,wecallthoseguysstand-overmenbecausetheyreallydostandoverlittleguysandstealfromthem.”
SanjaylookedatFaridandSalmanwithablankexpressionofconfusedinnocence.
“Idon’tseetheproblem,”hesaid.
“No,Iknowyoudon’thaveaproblemwithit.Andthat’sokay.Idon’texpecteveryonetothinklikeme.Factis,mostpeopledon’t.AndIunderstandthat.Igetit.Iknowthat’showalotofguysmaketheirway.ButjustbecauseIunderstandit,thatdoesn’tmeanIlikeit.Imetsomeoftheminjail.Acoupleofthemtriedtostandoverme.Istabbedthem.Noneoftheothersevertrieditagain.Thewordgotaround.Trytostandoverthisguy,andhe’llputaholeinyou.Sotheyleftmealone.Andthat’sjustthething.Iwould’vehadmorerespectforthemifthey’dkeptontryingtostandoverme.Iwouldn’thavestoppedfightingthem-Istillwould’vecutthemup,youknow,butIwould’verespectedthemmorewhileIdidit.Askthewaiterhere,Santosh,whathethinksofChuha.Theycameinherelastweek,Chuhaandhisguys,andslappedhimaroundforfiftybucks.”
ThewordbuckswasBombayslangforrupees.Fiftyrupeeswasthesameamount,Iknew,thatSanjaycustomarilytippedwaitersandbetter-than-averagecabdrivers
“Theguy’safuckin’millionaire,ifyoubelievehisbullshit,”Isaid,“andhestandsoveradecentworkingguylikeSantoshforfiftybucks.Idon’trespectthat.Andinyourheartofhearts,Sanjay,Idon’tthinkyoudo,either.I’mnotgoingtodoanythingaboutit.That’snotmyjob.Chuhamakeshisgraftbyslappingpeople.Iunderstandthat.Butifheevertriestostandoverme,I’llcuthim.AndItellyou,man,I’llenjoydoingit.”
TherewasalittlesilencewhileSanjaypursedhislips,twirledhishandpalmupward,andlookedfromSalmantoFarid.Thenallthreeofthemburstoutlaughing.
“Youaskedhim!”Faridgiggled.
“Okay,okay,”Sanjayconceded.“Iaskedthewrongguy.Linisawildguy,yaar.Hegetswildnotions.HewenttoAfghanistanwithKhader,man!WhydidIaskaguywho’scrazyenoughtodothat?
Youranthatclinicinthezhopadpatti,andyounevermadeafuckin’paiseoutofit.Remindmeofthat,Linbrother,ifIeveraskyouforyourbusinessopinionagain,na?”
“Andanotherthing,”Iadded,keepingastraightface.
“Eh,Baghwan!”Sanjaycried.“He’sgotanotherthing,yet!”
“Ifyouthinkabouttheslogans,you’llunderstandwhereI’mcomingfromonthis.”
“Theslogans?”Sanjayprotested,provokinghisfriendstobiggerlaughter.“Whatfuckin’slogans,yaar?”
“YouknowwhatImean.Theslogan,orthemotto,oftheWalidlallagangisPahileyShahad,Tabjulm.IthinkI’mrightintranslatingitasFirstHoney,ThenOutrage,orevenAtrocity.
Isn’tthatright?Andisn’tthatwhattheysaytoeachotherastheirslogan?”
“Yeah,yeah,that’stheirthing,man.”
“Andwhat’sourslogan?Khader’sslogan?”
Theylookedatoneanother,andsmiled.
“SaatchaurHimmat.”Ispokeitaloudforthem.“TruthandCourage.Iknowalotofguyswho’dlikeChuha’sslogan.They’dthinkitwascleverandfunny.Anditsoundsruthless,sothey’dthinkitwastough.ButIdon’tlikeit.IlikeKhader’s.”
AtthesoundofanEnfieldengine,IlookeduptoseeAbdullahparkhisbikeoutsidethechaishopandwavetome.Itwastimeformetogo.
I’dspokenthetruth,asIsawit,andImeanteveryword,butinmyownheartofheartsIknewthatSanjay’sargument,althoughnotbetter,wouldturnouttobestrongerthanmine.TheWalidlallagangunderChuhawasthefutureofallthemafiacouncils,inasense,andweallknewit.Walidwasstilltheheadofthecouncilthatborehisname,buthewasoldandhewasill.He’dcededsomuchpowertoChuhathatitwastheyoungerdonwhoruled.Chuhawasaggressiveandsuccessful,andhegainednewgroundbyconquestorcoercioneveryfewmonths.Soonerorlater,ifSalmandidn’tagreetomergewithChuha,thatexpansionwouldcometoopenconflict,andtherewouldbeawar.
Ihoped,ofcourse,thatKhader’scouncil,underSalman,wouldwin.ButIknewthat,ifwedidwin,itwouldbeimpossibletoclaimChuha’sterritorywithoutalsoabsorbinghistradeinheroin,women,andporn.Itwasthefuture,anditwasinevitable.Therewassimplytoomuchmoneyinit.Andmoney,ifthepilegetshighenough,issomethinglikeabigpoliticalparty:itdoesasmuchharmasitdoesgood,itputstoomuchpowerintoofewhands,andthecloseryoucometoitthedirtieryouget.Inthelongrun,SalmancouldwalkawayfromthefightwithChuha,orhecoulddefeathimandbecomehim.Fatealwaysgivesyoutwochoices,ScorpioGeorgeoncesaid:theoneyoushouldtake,andtheoneyoudo.
“Buthey,”Isaid,standingtoleave,“it’sgotnothingtodowithme.Andfrankly,Idon’treallygiveadamnonewayortheother.Myrideishere.I’llseeyouguyslater.”
Iwalkedout,withSanjay’sprotestsandhisfriends’laughterrattlingabovetheclatterofcupsandglasses.
“Bahinchudh!Gandu!”Sanjayshouted.“Youcan’tfuckupmyravelikethatandthenwalkout,yaar!Comebackhere!”
AsIapproachedhim,Abdullahkick-startedthebikeandstraighteneditfromthesidestand,readytoride.
“You’reinahurryforyourworkout,”Isaid,settlingmyselfontothesaddleofthebikebehindhim.“Relax.Nomatterhowfastwegetthere,I’mstillgoingtobeatyou,brother.”
Forninemonths,we’dtrainedtogetheratasmall,dark,sweaty,andveryseriousgymneartheElephantGatesectionofBallardPier.Itwasagoonda’sgymsetupbyHussein,theone-armedsurvivorofKhader’sbattlewiththeSapnaassassins.Therewereweightsandbenches,ajudomat,andaboxingring.Thesmellofman-sweat,bothfreshandfouledintothestitchingofleatherglovesandbeltsandturnbuckles,wassoeye-wateringlyrancidthatthegymwastheonlybuildinginthecityblockthatratsandcockroachesspurned.Therewerebloodstainsonthewallsandthewoodenfloor,andtheyounggangsterswhotrainedthereaccumulatedmorewoundsandinjuriesinaworkoutweekthantheemergencywardofacityhospitalonahotSaturdaynight.
“Nottoday,”Abdullahlaughedoverhisshoulder,pullingthebikeintoafasterlaneoftraffic.“Nofightingtoday,Lin.Iamtakingyouforasurprise.Agoodsurprise!”“NowI’mworried,”Icalledback.“Whatkindofsurprise?”
“YourememberwhenItookyoutoseeDoctorHamid?Yourememberthatsurprise?”
“Yeah,Iremember.”
“Well,itisbetterthanthat.Muchbetter.”
“U-huh.Well,I’mstillnotveryrelaxedaboutit.Gimmeanotherhint.”
“YourememberwhenIsentyouthebear,forhugging?”
“Kano,sure,Iremember.”
“Well,itismuchbetterthanthat!”
“Adoctorandabear,”Icalledoutabovethegrowloftheengine.“There’salotofspacebetweenthem,brother.Onemorehint.”
“Ha!”helaughed,comingtoastopatasetoftrafficlights.“Iwillsaytoyouthis-thesurpriseissogoodthatyouwillforgivemeforallthatyousufferedwhenyouthoughtIwasdead.”
“Idoforgiveyou,Abdullah.”
“No,Linbrother.Iknowyoudonotforgiveme.Ihavetoomanybruises,andIamtoomuchsorefromourboxingandkarate.”
Itwasn’ttrue:Ineverhithimashardashehitme.Althoughhewashealingwell,andhewasveryfit,he’dneverfullyrecoveredtheuncannystrengthandcharismaticvitalityhe’dknownbeforethepoliceshooting.Andwhenheremovedhisshirttoboxwithme,thesightofhisscarredbody-itwasasifhe’dbeensavagedbytheclawsofwildanimalsandburnedwithhotironbrands-alwaysmademepullmypunches.Still,Ineveradmittedthatto_him.
“Okay,”Ilaughed.“Ifthat’sthewayyou’regonnaplayit,Idon’tforgiveyou!”
“Butwhenyouseethissurprise,”hecalledout,laughingwithme,“youwillforgivemecompletely,withafullheart.Now,comeon!Stopaskingmeaboutit,andtellme,whatdidSalmansaytoSanjayaboutthatpig-thatChuha?”
“Howdidyouknowthat’swhatweweretalkingabout?”
“IcanseethelookinSalman’sface,”heshoutedback.“AndSanjay,hetoldme,thismorning,thathewantstoaskSalman-again-tomakebusinesswithChuha.So,whatdidSalmansay?”
“Youknowtheanswertothatone,”Irepliedalittlemorequietlyaswestoppedintraffic.
“Good!Nushkur’Allah.”ThanksbetoGod.“YoureallyhateChuha,don’tyou?”
“Idon’thatehim,”heclarified,movingoffwiththeflowofcars.“Ijustwanttokillhim.”
Weweresilentforawhile,breathingthewarmwindandwatchingtheblackbusinessunfoldonthestreetswe’dbothroamedsooften.Therewereahundredlargeandsmallscamsanddealsgoingdownarounduseveryminute,andweknewthemall.
Whenwefoundourselvestwistedintoaknotoftrafficbehindastalledbus,IlookedalongthefootpathandnoticedTajRaj,apickpocketwhousuallyworkedtheGatewayareaneartheTajMahalHotel.He’dsurvivedamacheteattackyearsbeforethathadallbutseveredhisneck.Thewoundcausedhimtospeakinarattlingwhisper,andhisheadwassetatsuchanill-balancedanglethatwhenhewaggedittoagreewithsomeonehealmostfellover.Hewasworkingthestumble-fall-pilfergamewithhisfriendIndraservingasthestumbler.Indra,knownasthePoet,spokealmostallofhissentencesinrhymingcouplets.Theyweredeeplymovingintheirbeauty,forthefirstfewstanzas,butalwaysfoundtheirwayintosexualdescriptionsandallusionssoperverseandabhorrentthatstrong,wickedmenwincedtohearthem.LegendhaditthatIndrahadoncerecitedhispoetrythroughamicrophoneduringastreetfestival,andhadclearedtheentireColabaMarketofshoppersandtradersalike.Eventhepolice,itwassaid,hadshrunkbackinhorroruntilexhaustionovercamethePoet,andthenthey’drushedhimashepausedforbreath.Iknewbothmen,andlikedthem,thoughIneverletthemgetcloserthananarm’sstretchfrommypockets.Andsureenough,asthebusfinallygrumbledtolifeandthetrafficbegantoeaseforward,IwatchedIndrapretendingtobeblind-nothisbestperformance,butgoodenough-andstumblingintoaforeigner.AndTajRaj,thehelpfulpasser-by,assistedbothofthemtotheirfeet,andrelievedtheforeignerofhisburdensomewallet.
“Why?”Iasked,whenweweremovingthroughfreespaceagain.
“Whywhat?”
“WhydoyouwanttokillChuha?”
“Iknowhehadameeting…withthemenfromIran,”Abdullahshoutedoverhisshoulder.“Peoplesayitwasjustbusiness-Sanjay,hesaysitwasjustbusiness.ButIthinkmorethanbusiness.Ithinkheworkwiththem,againstKhaderKhan.Againstus.Forthatreason,Lin.”
“Okay,”Icalledback,pleasedtohavemyowninstinctsaboutChuhaconfirmed,butworriedformywild,Iranianfriend.“Butdon’tdoanythingwithoutme,okay?”
Helaughed,andturnedhisheadtoshowmethewhiteteethofhissmile.
“I’mserious,Abdullah.Promiseme!”
“Thikhain,Linbrother!”heshoutedinreply.“Iwillcallyou,whenthetimeisright!”
HecoastedthebiketoastopandparkeditoutsidetheStrandCoffeeHouse,oneofmyfavouritebreakfastdives,neartheColabaMarket.
“Whatthehell’sgoingon?”Idemandedaswewalkedtowardthemarket.“Somesurprise-Icomeherenearlyeveryday.”
“Iknow,”heanswered,grinningenigmatically.“AndIamnottheonlyonewhoknowsit.”
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
“Youwillfindout,Linbrother.Hereareyourfriends.”
WecameuponVikramPatelandtheZodiacGeorges,ScorpioandGemini,sittingcomfortablyonbulgingsacksoflentilsbesideapulsesstall,anddrinkingchaifromglasses.
“Hey,man!”Vikramgreetedme.“Pullupasackandmakeyourselfathome.”
AbdullahandIshookhandsallroundand,aswesatdownontherowofsacks,ScorpioGeorgesignalledachai-runnertobringtwomoreglasses.ThepassportworkwasoftenkeepingmebusyatnightbecauseKrishnaandVillu-bothofthemwithyoungchildrenintheirgrowingfamilies-hadtakentostaggeringtheirshifts,givingthemselvesvaluablehoursathomeduringtheday.Thatworkwiththebooks,andothercommitmentstotheSalmancouncil,preventedmefromgoingtoLeopold’sasoftenasIoncehad.
WheneverIcould,I’dmetwithVikramandtheGeorgesnearVikram’sapartmentontheedgeoftheColabaMarket.Vikramwastheremostdays,afterhislunchwithLettie.HekeptmeuptodatewiththenewsfromLeopold’s-Didierhadfalleninlove,again,andRanjit,Karla’snewboyfriend,wasbecomingpopular-andtheGeorgesfilledmeinonwhatwasgoingdownonthestreets.
“Wethoughtyouweren’tcomingtoday,man,”Vikramsaidasthechaiarrived.
“Abdullahgavemealift,”Ireplied,frowningatmyfriend’smysterioussmile,“andwegotstuckintraffic.Itwasworthit,though.IhadafrontrowseatforTajRajandIndradoingtheirstumbleroutineonMGRoad.Itwasquiteashow.”
“He’snotwhatheusedtobe,ourTajRaj,”Geminicommented,hurlingSouthLondonatusinthevowelsofthelasttwowords.
“Notasnimble,like.Sincetheaccident,y’know,histiming’sabitoff.Imean,it’sonlyreasonable,innit?Hiswholebleedin’headwasdamnnearoff,an’all,soit’snowonderhistiming’sgotakinkinit.”
“Atthispoint,”ScorpioGeorgeinterrupted,loweringhisheadandassumingthesolemnpietyweallknewwellanddreadedmore,“Ithinkweshouldallbowourheadsinprayer.”
Weglancedatoneanother,oureyeswideningwithalarm.Therewasnoescape.Weweretoocomfortabletomove,andScorpioknewit.Weweretrapped.
“Oh,Lord,”Scorpiobegan.
“Oh,Gawd,”Geminigrumbled.
“AndLady,”Scorpiocontinued,“infiniteyin-yangspiritinthesky,wehumblyaskyoutoheartheprayers,today,offivesoulsthatyouputintotheworld,andleftinthetemporarycareofScorpio,Gemini,Abdullah,Vikram,andLin.”
“Whatdoeshemean,temporary?”Vikramwhisperedtome,andIshruggedinreply.
“Pleasehelpus,Lord,”Scorpiointoned,hiseyesshutandhisfaceraisedtoheaven,whichseemed,roughly,tobeinthemiddleofthebalconyonthethirdflooroftheVeejayPremnaathAcademyofHairColouringandEarBoring.“Pleaseguideustoknowwhat’sright,andtodotherightthing.Andyoucanstart,God,ifyou’reofamind,byhelpingoutwiththelittlebusinessdealwe’redoingwiththeBelgiancoupletonight.Idon’thavetotellyou,LordandLady,howtrickyitistosupplycustomerswithgood-qualitycocaineinBombay.But,thankstoyourprovidence,wemanagedtofindtengramsofA-gradesnow-and,giventherealbaddroughtonthestreets,thatwasamightyslickpieceofworkonyourpart,God,ifyou’llacceptmyprofessionaladmiration.
Anyway,Geminiandme,wesurecouldusethecommissiononthatdeal,anditwouldbekindanicenottogetrippedoff,orbeatenup,ormaimed,orkilled-unless,ofcourse,that’sinyourplan.
So,pleaselighttheway,andfillourheartswithlove.Signingoffnow,butkeepingthelineopen,asalways,I’llsayAmen.”
“Amen!”Geminiresponded,clearlyrelievedthattheprayerwasfarshorterthanScorpio’smoreusualefforts.
“Amen,”Vikramsobbed,nudgingatearfromhiseyewiththeknucklesofaballedfist.
“Astagfirullah,”Abdullahmuttered.Forgiveme,Allah.
“Sohowaboutabitetoeatthen?”Geminisuggestedcheerily.
“There’snothinglikeabitofreligiontoputyouintheframeofmindtomakeapigofyourself,isthere?”
AtthatmomentAbdullahleanedforwardtowhisperintomyleftear.
“Lookslowly-no,slowly!Lookoverthere,behindthepeanutsshop,nearthecorner.Doyouseehim?Yoursurprise,brotherLin.Doyouseehim?”
Andthen,stillsmiling,myeyesweredrawntoastoopedfigurewatchingusfromtheshadowsbeneathanawning.
“Heishereeveryday,”Abdullahwhispered.“Andnotonlyhere-insomeotherplacesthatyougo,also.Hewatchesyou.Hewaits,andhewatchesyou.”
“Vikram!”Imumbled,wantingsomeothertestamenttowhatIwasseeing.“Look!There,onthecorner!”
“Lookatwhat,man?”
Withmyattentionuponhim,thefiguredrewbackintotheshadowsandthenturnedandlopedaway,limping,asifthewholeleftsideofhisbodywasdamaged.
“Didn’tyouseehim?”
“No,man.Seewho?”Vikramcomplained,standingwithmetosquintinthedirectionofmyfranticstare.
“It’sModena!”Ishouted,runningafterthelimpingSpaniard.Ididn’tlookbackatVikram,Abdullah,andtheZodiacs.Ididn’tanswerVikram’scall.Ididn’tthinkaboutwhatIwasdoingorwhyIwaspursuinghim.Mymindwasonlyonethought,oneimage,andoneword.Modena…
Hewasfast,andheknewthestreetswell.Itoccurredtome,asheduckedintohiddendoorwaysandallbutinvisiblegapsbetweenbuildings,thatIwasprobablytheonlyforeignerinthecitywhoknewthosestreetsaswellashedid.Forthatmatter,therewerefewIndians-onlytoutsandthievesandjunkies-whocould’vekeptupwithhim.Hescrambledintoaholethatsomeonehadknockedthroughahighstonewalltocreateanaccesshatchfromonestreettoanother.Hesteppedaroundapartitionthatseemedassolidasbrick,butwasmadefromstretchedandpaintedcanvas.Hetookshortcutsthroughimprovisedshopsinshelteringarchways,andweavedhiswayalongthelabyrinthlinesofwashed,brightlycolouredsarishungouttodry.
Andthenhemadeamistake.Heranintoanarrowlanethathadbeencommandeeredbyhomelesspavementdwellersandextendedfamiliesthatwerecrowdedoutoflocalapartments.Iknewitwell.Aboutahundredmen,women,andchildrenwerelivingintheconvertedlane.Theysleptinshifts,inaloftspacethey’dbuiltabovethecobbledlaneandbetweenthewallsofadjacentbuildings.Theydideverythingelseinthelong,dark,narrowroomthatthelanehadbecome.Modenadodgedbetweentheseatedandstandinggroups;betweencookingstovesandbathingstallsandablanketofcardplayers.Then,attheendofthelane-room,heturnedleftinsteadofright.Itwasacul-de-sacsurroundedbyhighsheerwalls.Itwascompletelydark,anditendedinalittledoglegwherethespacecurvedaroundtheblindcornerofanotherbuilding.We’dusedit,sometimes,tomakebuyswithdrugdealerswedidn’tcompletelytrust,becausetherewasonlyonewayinorout.Iroundedthecorner,onlyafewstepsbehindhim,andstoodthere,pantingandstrainingmyeyestopiercethedarkness.Icouldn’tseehim,butIknewhehadtobeinthere.
“Modena,”Isaidsoftlyintotheblackechoes.“It’sLin.Ijustwanttotalktoyou.I’mnottryingto…Iknowyou’reinhere.
I’lljustputmybagdown,andlightusupabeedie,okay?Oneforyou.Oneforme.”
Iputthebagdownslowly,expectinghimtomakearushpastme.
Itookabundleofbeediesfrommyshirtpocket,andextractedtwofromthepack.Holdingthembetweenmythirdandfourthfingers,thickendsinwards,aseverypoormaninthecitydid,Iworkedopenaboxofmatchesandstruckone.Withtheflameplayingovertheendsofthecigarettes,IallowedmyselfaglimpseupwardandIsawhim,cringingawayfromthelittlearcoflightthrownbythematch.Justasthematchdied,Iextendedmyarmtoofferhimoneoftheglowingbeediecigarettes.Inthenewdark,afterthematchfailed,Iwaitedforasecond,twoseconds,threeseconds,andthenIfelthisfingers,softerandmoredelicateintheirgraspthanIwould’vebelieved,closearoundmyownandacceptthecigarette.
WhenhepuffedatthebeedieIsawhisfaceclearlyforthefirsttime.Itwasgrotesque.Mauriziohadslicedandslashedsomuchsufferingintothesoftskinthatitwasalmostfrighteningsimplytolookatit.Inthefaintorangelight,IsawthesneeringsmilethatgleamedinModena’seyesasherecognisedthehorrorinmyown.
Howmanytimes,Iwondered,hadheseenthathorrorintheeyesofothers-thatwide,whitedreadastheyimaginedhisscarsontheirownfacesandhistormentintheirsouls?Howmanytimeshadheseenothersflinch,asI’dflinched,andshrinkawayfromhiswoundsasiffromtheopensoresofadisease?Howmanytimeshadheseenmenaskthemselves:Whatdidhedo?Whatdidhedotodeservethis?
Maurizio’sknifehadopenedbothcheeksbeneaththedarkbrowneyes.ThecutshadhealedintolongY-shapedscarsthatdraggeddownthelowerlidsofhiseyesandranlikethetrailsofhideous,mockingtears.Thelowerlids,permanentlyredandraw,gapedopeninlittletrenchesofagonythatrevealedthewholeglobeofeacheye.Thewingsandseptumofhisnosehadbeencutthroughtothebone.Theskin,whenitclosedtogether,hadfusedinjaggedwhorlsatthesidesbutnotatallinthecentre,wherethelacerationwastoodeep.Thewideholewherehisnostrilshadbeenresembledthesnoutofapig,andflaredwitheveryinwardbreath.Thereweremanymorecutsbesidetheeyes,aroundthejaw,andalongthefullwidthofhisbrowbelowthehairline.
ItlookedasthoughMauriziohadtriedtopeeloffthewholelayerofModena’sface,andthehundredscarsthatencircledhisfeatureswerepuckered,hereandthere,intolittlemoundsoffleshthatmight’vematchedtheoutstretchedfingersofaman’shands.Iknewthattherehadtobeotherscarsandinjuriesbeneathhisclothes:themovementsofhisarmandlegontheleftsideofhisbodywereawkward,asifthehingesatelbow,shoulder,andkneehadstiffenedaroundwoundsthathadneverreallyhealed.
Itwasamonstrousmutilation;adisfigurementsocalculatedinitscrueltythatIfeltnumbedbyitandunabletorespond.Inoticedthattherewerenomarksonornearhismouth.Iwonderedatthefortunethathadlefthissensuousandfinelysculptedlipssoperfect,soflawlesslyunscarred.ThenIrememberedthatMauriziohadgaggedhimwhenhe’dtiedhimtothebed,onlyliftingthetwistedclothfromtimetotimeashe’dcommandedhimtospeak.Anditseemedtome,asIwatchedModenapuffatthecigarette,thathissmooth,unblemishedmouthwastheworstandmostterriblewoundofthemall.Wesmokedthebeediesdowntostubsinsilence,andmyeyesadjustedtothedarkness.Ibecameaware,gradually,ofhowsmallhewas;howmuchsmallerhe’dbecomewiththeshrivellingeffectofthewoundsonhisleftside.IfeltthatIwastoweringoverhim.Isteppedbackapaceintothelight,pickedupmybag,andwaggedmyheadencouragingly.
“Garamchaipio?”Iasked.Shallwedrinkhottea?
“Thikhain,”hereplied.Okay.
Iledthewaybackthroughtheconvertedlaneandintoachaishopwhereworkersfromalocalflourmillandbakerywererestingbetweenshifts.Themen,severalofthem,shuffledalongthewoodenbenchtomakeroomforus.Theywerepowderedwithwhiteflourintheirhairandoverthewholeoftheirbodies.Theylookedlikephantomsorsomanystonestatuescometolife.Theireyes,nodoubtirritatedbythedustyflour,wereasredascoalsfromthefierypitbeneaththeirovens.Theirwetlips,wheretheysippedthetea,wereblackleechesagainsttheghostlywhiteoftheirskin.Theystaredatuswiththeusualfrank,Indiancuriosity,butlookedawayquicklywhenModenaraisedhisgapingeyestothem.
“I’msorryforrunningaway,”hesaidquietly,hiseyesfixedonhishandsastheyfidgetedinhislap.
Iwaitedforhimtosaysomethingmore,buthelockedhismouthinatightlittlegrimaceandbreathedloudly,evenly,throughhiswide,flaringnose.
“Areyou…areyouokay?”Iasked,whentheteaarrived.
“Jarur,”heanswered,withalittlesmile.Certainly.“Areyouokay?”
Ithoughthewasbeingfacetious,andIdidn’thidetheirritationinmyfrown.
“Idonotmeantooffendyou,”hesaid,smilingagain.Itwasastrangesmile,soperfectinthecurveofthemouth,andsodeformedinthestiffenedcheeksthatdraggedthelowerlidsofhiseyesdownintolittlewellsofmisery.“Iamonlyofferingmyhelp,ifyouneedit.Ihavemoney.Ialwayscarrytenthousandrupeeswithme.”
“What?”
“Ialwayscarry-”
“Yes,yes,Iheardyou.”Hewasspeakingsoftly,butstillIglancedupatthebakerymentoseeifthey’dheardhimaswell.
“Whywereyouwatchingmetodayinthemarket?”“Iwatchyouveryoften.Almosteveryday.IwatchyouandKarlaandLisaandVikram.”
“Why?”
“Imustwatchyou.ItisoneofthewaysIwillknowhowtofindher.”
“Tofindwho?”
“Ulla.Whenshereturns.Shewon’tknowwhereIam.Idon’tgo…Idon’tgotoLeopold’sanymoreoranyoftheotherplacesweusedtobetogether.Whenshelooksforme,shewillcometoyouortooneoftheothers.AndIwillseeher.Andwewillbetogether.”
Hemadethelittlespeechsocalmly,andthensippedathisteawithsuchcontentedabstraction,thatitexaggeratedtheweirdnessofhisdelusion.HowcouldhethinkthatUlla,who’dlefthimonthebloodybedtodie,wouldreturnfromGermanytobewithhim?Andevenifsheweretoreturn,howcouldshereacttohisface,deformedintothatmourner’smask,withanythingbuthorror?
“Ulla…wenttoGermany,Modena.”
“Iknow,”hesmiled.“Iamgladforher.”
“Shewon’tbecomingback.”
“Oh,yes,”hesaidflatly.“She’llcomeback.Shelovesme.
She’llcomebackforme.”
“Why-”Ibegan,andthenabandonedthethought.“Howdoyoulive?”
“Ihaveajob.Agoodjob.Itpaysgoodmoney.Iworkwithafriend,Ramesh.Imethimwhen…afterIwashurt.Helookedafterme.Atthehousesoftherich,whenasonisborn,wegothere,andIputonmyspecialclothes.Iputonmycostume.”
Thedireemphasishe’dputonthelastword,andthefracturedlittlesmilethataccompaniedit,sentacreepinguneasealongtheskinofmyarms.SomeofthatdisquietcroakedintomyvoiceasIrepeatedtheword.
“Costume?”
“Yes.Ithasalongtailandsharpears,andachainoflittleskullsaroundtheneck.ImakeitthatIamademon,anevilspirit.AndRamesh,hemakesthatheisaholysadhu,lookinglikeaholyman,andhebeatsmeawayfromthehouse.AndIcomeback,andImakeitthatIamtryingtostealthebaby.AndthewomenscreamwhenIcomenearthebaby.AndRamesh,hebeatsmeawayagain.AgainIcomeback,andagainhebeatsmeuntil,attheverylast,hebeatsmesobadlythatImakelikeIamdying,andIrunaway.Thepeoplepayusgoodmoneyfortheshow.”“Ineverheardofitbefore.”
“No.Itisourownidea,Rameshandme.Butafterthefirstrichfamilypaidus,alltheotherswantedtobesuretobeattheevilspiritawayfromtheirnewbabyson.Andtheypayusgoodmoney,allofthem.Ihaveanapartment.Idon’townit,ofcourse,butIhavepaidmorethanayearofrentinadvancealready.Itissmall,butitiscomfortable.ItwillbeagoodplaceforUllaandmetolivetogether.Youcanseethewavesoftheseafromthemainwindow.MyUlla,shelovesthesea.Shealwayswantedahouseneartothesea…”
Istaredathim,fascinatednolessbythefactofhisspeechthanitsmeaning.ModenahadbeenoneofthemosttaciturnmenI’deverknown.Whenwe’dbothbeenregularsatLeopold’she’dgoneforweeksatatime,andsometimesaslongasamonth,withoututteringawordinmypresence.ButthenewModena,thescarredsurvivor,wasatalker.I’dbeenforcedtorunhimdowninablindalleytogethimtotalkatall,itwastrue;butoncehestarted,hebecamedisconcertinglychatty.AsIlistenedtohim,asIreorientedmyselftothedisfigured,volubleversionoftheman,IbecameawareofthemelodiesthathisSpanishaccentmadeasitmovedfluentlybetweenHindiandEnglish,mixingthetwoseamlessly,andincorporatingwordsfromeachintoahybridlanguagethatwashisown.Adriftonthesoftnessinhisvoice,Iaskedmyselfifthatwasthekeytothemysteriousbondthathadexistedbetweenthem,UllaandModena:ifthey’dtalkedtooneanother,forhours,whentheywerealone,andifthattendereuphony,thatvoicemusic,hadheldthemtogether.
Andthen,withasuddennessthatcaughtmeoff-guard,themeetingwithModenawasover.Hestoodtopaythebillandwalkedoutintothelane,waitingformejustbeyondthedoorway.
“Imustgo,”hesaid,lookingnervouslytohisleftandrightbeforeraisinghiswoundedeyestomine.“Rameshistherebynow,outsidethePresidentHotel.Whenshecomesback,Ullawillbethere,shewillstaythere.Shelovesthathotel.Itisherfavourite.ShelovestheBackBayarea.AndtherewasaplanethismorningfromGermany.ALufthansaplane.Shemightbethere.”
“Youcheck…aftereveryflight?”
“Yes.Idonotgoin,”hemurmured,liftinghishandasiftotouchhisface,butrunningitthroughhisshort,greyinghairinstead.“Rameshgoesinthehotelforme.Hecheckshername-UllaVolkenberg-toseeifsheisthere.Onedayshewillbethere.Shewillbethere.”
Hebegantowalkawayfromme,butIstoppedhimwithahandonhisshoulder.
“Listen,Modena,don’trunawayfrommenexttime,okay?Ifyouneedanything,ifthere’sanythingIcando,justaskme.Isitadeal?”
“Iwillnotrunawayagain,”hesaidsolemnly.“Itisjustmyhabittorun.Anditwasjustmyhabitthatwasrunningawayfromyou.Itwasnotmerunning,justmyhabit.Iamnotafraidofyou.Youaremyfriend.”
Heturnedtoleave,butIstoppedhimagain,drawinghimclosertomesothatIcouldwhisperintohisear.
“Modena,don’ttellanyoneelsethatyoukeepsomuchmoneyonyou.Promiseme.”
“Nobodyelseknowsthat,Lin,”heassuredme,smilingthatdeepeyedgrimaceatme.“Onlyyou.Iwouldnotsaythattoanyone.
NotevenRameshknowsthatIhavemoneywithme.HedoesnotknowthatIsavemymoney.Hedoesnotevenknowaboutmyapartment.
HethinksthatIspendmyshareofthemoneythatweearntogetherondrugs.AndIdonottakeanydrugs,Lin.Youknowthat.Ineverdidanydrugs.IjustlethimthinkthatIdo.Butyouaredifferent,Lin.Youaremyfriend.Icantellyouthetruth.Icantrustyou.WhyshouldInottrustthemanwhokilledthedevilhimself?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“I’mtalkingaboutMaurizio,theenemyofmyblood.”
“Ididn’tkillMaurizio,”Isaid,frowningdownintotheredwalledcavesofhiseyes.
Hisperfectmouthwidenedintoanaccomplice’sleer.TheexpressiondraggedharderontheY-shapedscarsthatoncewerethelowerlidsofhiseyes.Thegapeofthoseeyeswassounnervingintheflame-litlanethatIhadtosteelmyselfnottoflinchordrawbackwhenhereachedouttoputhispalmonmychest.
“Donotworry,Lin.Thesecretissafewithme.Iamgladthatyoukilledhim.Notjustforme.Iknewhim.Iwashisbestfriend-hisonlyfriend.Ifhelived,afterhedidthistome,therewasnolimittohisevil.Thatishowamandestroyshisownsoul-helosesthelastlimittohisevil.AndIwatchedhim,whenhecutmewithhisknife,andwhenhewalkedawaythelasttime,andIknewthathelosthissoul.Itcosthimhissoul,whathedid…thethingshedidtome.”“Youdon’thavetotalkaboutit.”
“No,itisokay,now,totalkabouthim.Mauriziowasafraid.Hewasalwaysafraid.Helivedallhislifeinfearof…everything.Andhewascruel.Thatiswhatgavehimhispower.Ihaveknownalotofpowerfulmeninmylife,andthismuchIknow–allthepowerfulmenIknewwereafraid,andcruel.Thatisthe…mix…thatgavethempoweroverothermen.Iwasnotafraid.Iwasnotcruel.Ihadnopower.Iwas…youknow,itwaslikethefeelingformyUlla-IwasinlovewithMaurizio’spower.Andthen,afterheleftmethere,onthebed,andUllacameintotheroom,Isawthefearinhereyes.Heputhisfearintoher.Hemadehersoafraid,whenshesawwhathedidtome,thatsheranawayandleftmethere.AndwhenIwatchedherleave,andshutthedoor…”
Hehesitated,swallowinghard,thefull,unmarkedlipstremblingonthewords.Iwantedtostophim,tosparehimthememoryofitandmaybesavemyselffromitaswell.ButasIbegantospeakheputalittlemorepressureinthepalmthatheheldagainstmychest,silencingme,andlookingupintomyeyesoncemore.
“IhatedMaurizioforthefirsttime,then.Mypeople,thepeopleofmyblood,wedonotwanttohate,becausewhenwedohate,itiswiththewholeofthesoul,anditcanneverforgivethehatedone.ButIhatedMaurizio,andIwishedhimdead,andIcursedhimwiththatwish.Notforwhathedidto_me,butforwhathedidtomyUlla,andforwhathewoulddointhefutureasamanwithoutasoul.So,donotworry,Lin.Idonotspeakofittoanyone,whatyoudid.AndIamglad,Iamtrulygratefulthatyoukilledhim.”
AclearvoicewithinmesaidthatIshouldtellhimwhathadreallyhappened.Hehadarighttoknowthetruth.AndIwantedtotellhim.AnemotionthatIcouldn’tfullyunderstand-thelastvestigeofangeratUlla,perhaps,orajealouscontemptforhisfaithinher-mademewanttoshakehim,andshoutthetruthathim,andhurthimwithit.ButIcouldn’tspeak.Icouldn’tmove.Andashiseyesreddenedandsimmeredintotearsthatran,exactly,inthechannellingscarsthatpiercedhischeeksIheldthestare,andnoddedmyhead,andsaidnothingatall.Henoddedhishead,slowly,inreply.Hemisreadme,Ithink,orImisreadhim.I’llneverknow.
Silencescanwoundassurelyasthetwistinglash,thepoetSadiqKhanoncewrote.Butsometimes,beingsilentistheonlywaytotellthetruth.IwatchedModenaturnandlimpaway,andIknewthatthewordlessminutewe’dshared,withhishandonmychestandhisbreachedandweepingeyesclosetomine,wouldalwaysbemorepreciousandevenmorehonestforbothofus,nomatterhowerrableormisunderstood,thanthecold,unlovingtruthofhisworldalone,orofmine.
Andmaybehe’sright,Ithought.MaybehiswayofrememberingMaurizioandUllawasright.Certainly,he’ddealtwiththepainthey’dcausedhimalotbetterthanI’ddealtwiththatkindofpainwhenithadhappenedtome.Whenmymarriagefellapartinbetrayalandbitterness,Ibecameajunkie.Icouldn’tbearitthatlovewasbroken,andthathappinesshadcinderedsosuddenlyintosorrow.SoIruinedmylife,andhurtalotofpeopleonthelongwaydown.Modena,instead,hadworkedandsavedandwaitedforlovetoreturn.Andthinkingaboutthat-howhe’dlivedwithwhathadbeendonetohim-andwonderingatitonthelongwalkbacktoAbdullahandtheothers,IdiscoveredsomethingthatIshould’veknown,asModenadid,rightfromthestart.Itwassomethingsimple:sosimplethatittookapainasgreatasModena’stoshakemeintoseeingit.He’dbeenabletodealwiththatpainbecausehe’dacceptedhisownpartincausingit.I’dneveracceptedmyshareofresponsibility-rightuptothatmoment-forthewaymymarriagehadfailedorfortheheartachethathadfollowedit.ThatwaswhyI’dneverdealtwithit.
Andthen,asIenteredthebright,barteringbustleofthemarket,Idid:Ididacceptthatblame,andIfeltmyheartexpandandunfoldasitreleaseditsburdensoffear,resentment,andself-doubt.Iwalkedbackbetweenthebusystallsand,bythetimeIjoinedAbdullah,Vikram,andtheGeorges,Iwassmiling.IansweredtheirquestionsaboutModena,andIthankedAbdullahforhissurprise.Hewasright-Ididforgivehimeverything,afterthat.AndalthoughIcouldn’tfindthewordstotellhimofthechangethathadhappenedtome,hesensed,Ithink,thatthedifferenceinthesmileIsharedwithhimcamefromanewpeacethatwasborninmethatday,andslowlybegantogrow.
Thecloakofthepastiscutfrompatchesoffeeling,andsewnwithrebusthreads.Mostofthetime,thebestwecandoiswrapitaroundourselvesforcomfortordragitbehindusaswestruggletogoon.Buteverythinghasitscauseanditsmeaning.
Everylife,everylove,everyactionandfeelingandthoughthasitsreasonandsignificance:itsbeginning,andthepartitplaysintheend.Sometimes,wedosee.Sometimes,weseethepastsoclearly,andreadthelegendofitspartswithsuchacuity,thateverystitchoftimerevealsitspurpose,andakindofmessageisenfoldedinit.Nothinginanylife,nomatterhowwellorpoorlylived,iswiserthanfailureorclearerthansorrow.Andinthetiny,preciouswisdomthattheygivetous,eventhosedreadandhatedenemies,sufferingandfailure,havetheirreasonandtheirrighttobe.
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CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
Moneystinks.Astackofnewmoneysmellsofinkandacidandbleachlikethefingerprintingroominacitypolicestation.Oldmoney,vexedwithhopeandcoveting,smellsstalelikedeadflowerskepttoolongbetweenthepagesofacheapnovel.Whenyouputalotofmoney,newandold,intooneroom-millionsofrupeescountedtwiceandsnappedintobundleswithrubberbands-itstinks._Ilovemoney,Didieroncesaidtome,butIhatethesmellofit.ThemorehappinessIgetfromit,themorethoroughlyIhavetowashmyhandsafterwards.Iknewexactlywhathemeant.Inthecounting-roomforthemafiamoney-changeracket,anairlesscavernintheFortareawherethehotlightswerebrightenoughtosearchthroughthebestcounterfeit,andtheoverheadfansneverturnedfastenoughtoliftastraynotefromthecountingtables,thesmellofmoneywaslikethesweatandthedirtonagravedigger’sboots.
SomeweeksafterthemeetingwithModena,IpushedmywayoutthroughthedoorofRajubhai’scountingroom,shovingthegoondasasidewiththekindofchildishroughplayweallenjoyed,andgaspedatthefresherairinthestairway.Avoicecalledmyname,andIstoppedonthethirdstep,myhandonthewoodenrail.IlookeduptoseeRajubhaileaningoutofthedoorway.Theshort,fat,baldcurrency-controllerforKhader’s-no,Salman’s-mafiacouncilwasdressed,asalways,inadhotiandawhitesinglet.Heleanedoutofthedoorway,Iknew,becauseheneveractuallylefttheroomuntilhesealedit,atclosetomidnight,everynight.Whenheneededtorelievehimself,heusedaprivatefacilitythatwasfittedwithaone-waymirrorsothathecouldwatchtheroom.Hewasadedicatedaccountant-themafia’sbest-butitwasn’tjustthedutyofhisprofessionthatheldRajubhaitotheactivityonhiscountingtables.Awayfromthebusyroomhewasagrumpy,suspicious,andstrangelywizenedman.Inthecountingroomhewasplumper,somehow,andexpansivelyself-assured.Itwasasifthephysicalattachmentlinkedhimtoapsychicforce:solongasapartofhisbodywasstillintheroom,hewasstillconnectedtotheenergy,thepower,themoney.
“Linbaba!”heshouteddownatme,withthelowerpartofhisbodyhiddenbythedoorframe.“Don’tforgetthewedding!Youarecoming,isn’tit?”
“Sure,”Ismiledbackathim.“I’llbethere!”
Ididthequickwalk-falldownthreeflightsofthestairway,teasingandshovingthegoondasondutyateverylevel,andbumpedpastthemenatthestreetdoor.AttheendofthestreetIacknowledgedthesmilesoftwomoremenwatchingthedoor.
Thereweresomeexceptions,butforthemostparttheyoungmafiagangsterslikedme.Iwasn’ttheonlyforeignerworkingwiththeBombaymafia-therewasanIrishgangsterintheBandracouncil,anAmericanfreelancermakinganameinmajordrugdeals,aDutchmanworkingwithaganginKhar,andtherewereothermenacrossthecity-butIwastheonlygoraintheSalmancouncil.Iwastheirforeigner.Andthoseyears,asIndianpridewasrisinglikenewgreen,white,andorangevinesfromthescorchedpostcolonialearth,werethelastyearswhenbeingforeign,beingBritish,orlookingandsoundingBritishwasenoughtowinheartsandintrigueminds.
Rajubhai’sinvitationtohisdaughter’sweddingwassignificant:itmeantthatIwasacceptedasoneofthem.FormonthsI’dworkedsidebysidewithSalman,Sanjay,Farid,Rajubhai,andothersonthecouncil.Myworkinthepassportsectionwasbringinginalmostasmuchmoneyastheentirecurrencyoperation.Myowncontactsonthestreetsthrewlargesumsintothegold,goods,andmoney-changepots.IworkedoutintheboxinggymwithSalmanMustaanandAbdullahTaherieveryotherday.UsingmyfriendshipwithHassaanObikwa,I’dforgedanewalliancewithhismenintheblackghetto.Itwasausefulconnectionwhichhadbroughtusnewmen,money,andmarkets.AtNazeer’srequest,I’djoinedthedelegationthathadstruckanarmsagreementwithAfghanexilesinthecity-adealthathadensuredasteadysupplyofweaponstotheSalmancouncilfromthesemi-autonomoustribalregionsonthePakistan-Afghanistanborder.IhadfriendshipandrespectandmoremoneythanIcaredtospend,butitwasn’tuntilRajubhaiinvitedmetohisdaughter’sweddingthatIknewIwastrulyaccepted.HewasaseniormanontheSalmancouncil.Hisinvitationwastheendorsementthatwelcomedmeintotheinnercircleoftrustandaffection.Youcanworkwiththemafia,andforthemafia,anddothekindofjobthatearnshighesteem,butyou’renotreallyoneofthemuntiltheyinviteyouhometokissthebabies.
IwalkedoutthroughtheinvisibleboundariesoftheFortareaandapproachedFloraFountain.Arovingtaxislowedbesideme,thedrivergesturingaggressivelyformyfare.Iwavedhimaway.
NotrealisingthatIcouldspeakHindi,hedroveupbesidemeatacrawlingpaceandleanedfromthewindowtotalk.
“Hey,whitesisterfucker,can’tyouseethetaxi’sempty?Whatareyoudoing?Walkinginthehotafternoonlikesomebody’slostwhitegoat?”
“Kaipaijeytum?”IaskedinrudeMarathi.Whaddayawant?
“Kaipaijey?”herepeated,stunnedtoheartheMarathiphrase.
“What’syourproblem?”Iasked,speakingintheroughMarathidialectofBombay’sbackstreets.“Youdon’tunderstandMarathi?
ThisisourBombay,andBombayisours.Ifyoucan’tspeakMarathi,whatareyoudoinginBombay?Haveyougotagoat’sbraininsideyoursisterfuckinghead?”
“Arrey!”hegrinned,switchingtoEnglish.“YouspeakMarathi,baba?”
“Gorachierra,kalamaan,”Isaidinanswer,makingcirclinggesturesovermyfaceandmyheart.Whiteface,blackheart.ImovedintoHindi,usingthemostpoliteformofthewordyoutoputhimatease.“I’mwhiteontheoutside,brother,butfullHindustaniontheinside.I’mjusttakingawalk,passingtime.
Whydon’tyoulookforsomerealtourists,andleavepoorIndianfuckerslikemealone,na?”
Helaughedaloudandpassedhishandacrossthewindowofhiscabtoshakeminegently,andthenspedaway.
Iwalkedon,avoidingthecrowdedfootpathstojointheswifterlinesontheroadbesidethepassingcars.Deepbreathsofthecityfinallydrovethesmellofthecurrency-roomfrommynostrils.IwasheadingbacktowardColaba,toLeopold’s,tomeetDidier.IwantedtowalkbecauseIwasgladtobebackinthepartofthecityIlovedmost.WorkforSalman’smafiacounciltookmetoeverydistantsuburbofthegreatcity,andthereweremanyfavouredplaces:fromMahalaxmitoMalad;fromCottonGreentoThana;fromSantaCruzandAndheritotheLakesDistrictontheFilmCityRoad.Buttherealseatofhiscouncil’spowerwasinthelongpeninsulathatbeganinthesweepingcurveofMarineDriveandfollowedthescimitarshoreallthewaytotheWorldTradeCentre.Anditwasthereinthosethrivingstreets,nevermorethanafewbusstopsfromthesea,thatI’dlostmyhearttothecityandlearnedtoloveher.
Itwashotonthestreet,hotenoughtoburnallbutthedeepestthoughtsfromtroubledminds.LikeeveryotherBombayite,everyotherMumbaiker,I’dmadethatwalkfromFloraFountaintotheCausewayathousandtimes,andlikethemIknewwheretofindthecoolbreezesandrefreshingshadesontheway.Myscalp,myface,andmyshirtwerewetwithsweatinanyfewsecondsofbaresunlight-thebaptismineverydaylightwalk-andthencooledallthewaytodryagaininaminuteofshadedwind.
Mythoughts,asImovedbetweenthetrafficandthebrowsingshoppers,wereonthefuture.Paradoxically,evenperversely,justasIwasbeingacceptedintothesecretheartofBombay,Ialsofeltthestrongesturgetoleave.Iunderstoodthetwoforces,contradictoryastheyseemed.SomuchofwhatI’dlovedaboutBombayhadbeenintheheartsandmindsandwordsofhumanbeings-Karla,Prabaker,Khaderbhai,andKhaledAnsari.Theywereallgone,inonewayoranother,yettherewasaconstant,melancholysenseofthemineverystreet,shrine,andstripofsea-coastthatIlovedinthecity.Still,therewerenewsourcesofloveandinspiration-newbeginningsrisingfromthefallowfieldsoflossanddisillusion.MypositionwithSalman’smafiacouncilwassecure.BusinessopportunitieswereopeningupintheBollywoodfilmindustryandthenewerfieldsoftelevisionandmulti-media:Ireceivedoffersofworkeveryotherweek.Ihadagoodapartment,withaviewoftheHajiAliMosque,andplentyofmoney.AndnightbynightIgrewalittlecloserinlovingaffectionforLisaCarter.
Asadnessthatlingeredinallmyfavouriteplaceswaspressingmetoleavethecity,justasnewloveandacceptancepulledmeclosertoherheart.AndIcouldn’tdecide,asIwalkedthatlong,baptismalstretchfromFloratotheCauseway,whichwaytojump.NomatterhowoftenordeeplyIthoughtaboutthestruggledpastorthesorrowandpromiseofthepresent,Icouldn’tmakethatleapofconfidenceortrustorfaithintothefuture.Therewassomethingmissing:somecalculation,somepieceofevidenceorparallaxviewofmylifethatwouldmakeitallcleartome,Iwassure,butIdidn’tknowwhatitwas.SoImovedbetweenthefranticflowofcars,bikes,buses,trucks,andpush-carts,andthemeanderingprogressoftouristsandshoppers,andletmythoughtsdriftintotheheatandthestreet.
“Lin!”DidiershoutedasIsteppedthroughthewidearchanduptohislongraftofjoinedtables.“Directfromyourtraining,non?”
“No,I’vebeenwalking.Thinking.Moreofaworkoutforthemind–andmaybethesoul.”
“Donotfear!”hecommanded,signallingforthewaiter.“Icurethissicknesseverydayofeveryweek.Oreverynight,attheleast.Makeaplaceforhim,Arturo.Movedownalittle,andlethimsitnexttome.”
Arturo,ayoungItalianhidinginBombayfromanundisclosedproblemwiththepoliceinNaples,wasDidier’snewinfatuation.
Hewasashort,slightmanwithadoll-likefacethatmanyagirlmight’veenvied.HespokeverylittleEnglishandreactedtoeveryapproach,nomatterhowfriendly,withthesamepetulantlysurlyshudderofirritation.Consequently,Didier’smanyfriendsignoredhimandsetthealarmsintheirmentalclockstogivetherelationshipfromafewmonths,atmost,toafewweeks,beforeitcollapsed.
“YoujustmissedKarla,”DidiertoldmemorequietlywhenIshookhishand.“Shewillbeupset.Shewantedto-”
“Iknow,”Ismiled.“Shewantedtoseeme.”
Thedrinksarrived,andDidierclatteredhisglassagainstmine.
Itookasipfromitandputitdownonthetablenexttohim.
SeveralpeoplefromthemoviecrowdthatworkedwithLisaCarterwereatthelongtable,joininginapartywithsomeofKavitaSingh’spressgroup.SittingnexttoDidierwereVikramandLettie.TheywerebothhappierandhealthierthanI’deverknownthemtobe.They’dboughtthenewapartmentintheheartofColabanearthemarketonlymonthsbefore.WhilethecommitmenthadexhaustedtheirsavingsandforcedthemtoborrowfromVikram’sparents,itwasproofoftheirfaithinoneanotherandthefutureoftheirburgeoningmoviebusiness,andtheywerestillexcitedwiththechange.
Vikramgreetedmewarmly,risingfromhischairtogivemeahug.
Hisgunslinger’sclotheshaddisappeared,itembyitem,underLettie’spersuasionandhisownmaturingtaste.AllthatremainedoftheClintEastwoodcostumewerethesilverbeltandtheblackcowboyboots.Hisbelovedhat,surrenderedwithnolittlereluctancewhenhe’dfoundhimselfmorefrequentlyintheboardroomsofmajorcompaniesthaninthestuntmen’scorral,washangingfromahookinmyapartment.
Itwasoneofmymosttreasuredpossessions.
WhenIleanedovertokissLettie,sheseizedtheshoulderofmyshirtandpulledmeclosertowhisperinmyear.
“Keepyourcool,lad,”shemurmuredinscrutably.“Keepyourcool.”
SittingnexttoLettiewerethemovieproducersCliffDeSouzaandChandraMehta.Assometimeshappenswithclosefriends,CliffandChandraseemedtoexchangethesubstanceoftheirbodiesbetweenthemovertime,sothatCliffhadbecomeslightlythinnerandmoreangular,whileChandrahadgainedweightinalmostperfectproportion.Themoretheydifferedphysically,however,themoretheyresembledoneanotherinotherways.Infact,theclosecolleagues,whooftenworkedandplayedtogetherforfortyhoursatastretch,usedsomanyofthesamegestures,facialexpressions,andphrasesthattheywereknownonthesetsofthemoviestheyproducedasFatUncleandSkinnyUncle.
TheyraisedtheirarmsinidenticallyenthusiasticgreetingwhenIapproachedthem,althougheachwaspleasedtoseemeforhisownreasons.CliffDeSouzahaddevelopedapassionateaffectionforKavitaSinghsinceI’dintroducedthem,andhe’dhopedImightinfluenceherinhisfavour.Havingafarlongeracquaintancewithher,IknewthatnopowercouldinfluenceKavitatowardanythingnotfullyconsonantwithherwillandherwish.Still,sheseemedtolikehimwellenough,andtheyhadmuchincommon.Theywerebothalmostthirtyandunmarried-astatussounusualintheIndianuppermiddleclass,inthoseyears,thattheirfamiliesanguishedoveritateveryfeastandfestivalinthecrowdedcalendar.Theywerebothmediaprofessionalswhopridedthemselvesontheirindependenceandartisticflair.Theywerealsodrivenbythesameinstinctivetolerancetoseekout,andfairlyexamine,eachpointofviewinanyapparentconflictofinterests.Andtheywereattractivepeople.Kavita’sshapelyfigureandperilouslyseductiveeyeseemedtheperfectcomplementtoCliff’srangyangularityandtheboyishnessofhisartless,lopsidedgrin.
Formypart,likingthemboth,Isawnoreasontoresistthematchmaker’surgetomeddle.InpublicImadeitclearthatIlikedCliffDeSouza,andinprivateIpraisedhimdiscreetlytoherwheneverthenaturalopportunityarose.Theyhadachance-agoodchance,itseemedtome-andmyheartputawishingstarinmyeyesforthem.
ChandraMehta,ontheotherhand,waspleasedtoseemebecauseIwashisclosestlinktotheblackmoneyinSalman’smafiacouncil,andtheonlylinkhecoulddescribeasamicable.LikeKhaderbeforehim,SalmanMustaansawgreatadvantageintheaccesstoBombay’sfilmworldthatChandraMehtaprovided.Newregulationsatfederalandstatelevelshadtightenedrestrictionsontheflowofcapital,makingitevermoredifficulttolaunderblackmoney.Formanyreasons-notleastbecauseoftheirresistibleglamourattachedtotheindustry-politicianshadexemptedthemoviebusinessfrommanyofthosemonetaryandinvestmentcontrols.Theywereboomeconomyyears,andBollywoodfilmsweregoingthrougharenaissanceinstyleandconfidence.Thefilmsgotbiggerandbetter,andhadbeguntoreachouttoawiderworldmarket.Asthebudgetsforsuccessfulfilmssoared,however,producersexhaustedthetraditionalsourcesofrevenue.Thatconvergenceofinterestsdrovemorethanafewproducersandproductionhousesintostrangesyzygieswithgangsters:filmsaboutmafiagoondaswerefinancedbythemafia,andtheprofitsfromhitmoviesabouthitmenwentintonewcrimesandrealhitsonrealpeople,whichinturnbecamethesubjectsforscreenplaysandnewfilmsfinancedbymoremafiamoney.
AndIplayedmypart,sotospeak,byworkingastheconnectionbetweenChandraMehtaandSalmanMustaan.Therelationshipwasalucrativeone.TheSalmancouncilhadputcrores,eachcrorebeingtenmillionrupees,throughMehta-DeSouzaProductions,anddrewclean,untraceableprofitsfromthebottomline.ThatfirstcontactwithChandraMehta,whenhe’daskedmetofindafewthousandAmericandollarsontheblackmarket,hadfattenedintoanexusthattheportlyproducercouldn’tresistorrefuse.Hewasrich,andgettingricher.Butthemenwhopouredtheirwealthintohiscompanyfrightenedhim,andeverycontactwiththemwasmenacedwiththescentoftheirdistrust.SoChandraMehtasmiledatme,andwasgladtoseeme,andtriedtopullmetighterintothetremulousclutchofhisfriendshipwheneverourpathscrossed.
Ididn’tmind.IlikedChandraMehta,andIlikedBollywoodmovies.Iallowedhimtodragmeintotheworried,wealthyworldofhisfriendship.
NexttohimatthetablewasLisaCarter.Herthick,blondehairhadgrownlongenough,aftertheshortcut,tofallbesidetheovalcameoofherface.Herblueeyeswereclearandglitteringwithpassionateintent.Shewastannedandveryhealthy.She’devengainedalittleextraweight-somethingshedecried,butthatIandeveryothermanwithinhersight-horizonwasboundtoadmire.Andtherewassomethingnewandverydifferentinhermanner:awarm,unhurriedsoftnessinhersmile;awillinglaughthatwonthelaughterofothers;andalightnessofspiritthatlookedforandoftenfoundthebestinthoseshemet.Forweeks,months,I’dwatchedthosechangesshiftandsettleinher,andatfirstI’dthoughtthey’dgrownfrommyaffection.Althoughnoformalrelationshiphadbeendeclared-shecontinuedtoliveinherapartment,andIlivedinmine-wewerelovers,andwewerefarmorethanfriends.Afteratime,Irealisedthatthechangeswerenotmine,buthersalone.
Afteratime,Ibegantoseehowdeepthewellofherlovingwas,andhowmuchherhappinessandconfidencedependedondrawingthatloveintothelight,andsharingit.Andlovewasbeautifulinher.Itwasaclearskyshegaveuswiththoseeyes,andasummermorningwithhersmile.
ShekissedmycheekwhenIgreetedher.Ireturnedthekiss,wondering,asIsteppedback,whyasmallconcernedfrownrippledfromherbrowtohercornflower-blueeyes.
SittingnextaroundthelongtableweretheprintjournalistsDilipandAnwar.Theywereyoung,onlyafewyearsoutofcollege,andstilllearningtheirtradeintheanonymousvaultsofTheNoonday,aBombaydaily.Atnight,withDidierandhislittlecourt,theydiscussedthebigbreakingstoriesofthedayasifthey’dplayedkeypartsinthescoopsorhadfollowedtheirowninstinctstotheinvestigation’send.Theirexcitement,enthusiasm,ambition,andlimitlesshopeforthefuturesodelightedeveryoneintheLeopold’scrowdthatKavitaandDidierfeltobligedtorespond,occasionally,withsardonicsniping.
DilipandAnwarreactedwell,laughingandoftengivingasgoodastheygotuntilthewholegroupwasshoutingandpoundingthetableindelight.
Dilipwasatall,fair,almond-eyedPunjabi.Anwar,athirdgenerationnativeofBombay,wasshorter,darker,andthemoreseriousofthetwo.Newblood,Lettiehadsaidtomewithasmile,afewdaysbeforethatafternoon.Itwasaphraseshe’donceusedaboutme,soonafterI’darrivedinBombay.AndasImademywayaroundthetableandlookedatthetwoyoungmentalkingwithsuchpassionandpurpose,itoccurredtomethatonce,beforeheroinandcrime,mylifehadbeenliketheirs.OnceI’dbeenjustashappyandhealthyandhopefulastheywere.AndIwasgladtoknowthem,andtoknowtheywereapartofthepleasureandpromiseoftheLeopold’scrowd.Itwasrightthattheywerethere,justasitwasrightthatMauriziowasgone,andUllaandModenaweregone,andthatI,too,wouldonedaybegone.
Returningtheirwarmhandshakes,ImovedpasttheyoungmentoKavitaSinghsittingbesidethem.Kavitastoodtogivemeahug.
Itwasthetender,closehugthatawomangivesamanwhensheknowsshecantrusthim,orwhenshe’ssurehisheartbelongstosomeoneelse.Itwasarareenoughembracebetweenforeigners.
ComingfromanIndianwoman,itwasuniquelyintimateinmyexperience.Anditwasimportant.I’dbeeninthecityforyears;
IcouldmakemyselfunderstoodinMarathi,Hindi,andUrdu;Icouldsitwithgangsters,slum-dwellers,orBollywoodactors,claimingtheirgoodwillandsometimestheirrespect;butfewthingsmademefeelasaccepted,inalltheIndianworldsofBombay,asKavitaSingh’sfondembrace.
Inevertoldherthat-whatheraffectionateandunconditionalacceptancemeanttome.Somuch,toomuch,ofthegoodthatIfeltinthoseyearsofexilewaslockedintheprisoncellofmyheart:thosetallwallsoffear;thatsmall,barredwindowofhope;thathardbedofshame.Idospeakoutnow.Iknownowthatwhentheloving,honestmomentcomesitshouldbeseized,andspoken,becauseitmaynevercomeagain.Andunvoiced,unmoving,unlivedinthethingswedeclarefromhearttoheart,thosetrueandrealfeelingswitherandcrumbleintherememberinghandthattriestoolatetoreachforthem.
Onthatday,asthegrey-pinkveilofeveningslowlyenclosedtheafternoon,IsaidnothingtoKavita.Iletmysmile,likeathingmadeofbrokenstones,fallandslidefromthepeakofheraffectiontothegroundbeneathherfeet.Shetookmyarmandsteeredmeintoanintroductiontothemanwhosatbesideher.
“Lin,Idon’tthinkyou’vemetRanjit,”shesaidashestoodandweshookhands.“Ranjitis…Karla’sfriend.RanjitChoudrymeetLin.”
IsuddenlyknewwhatLettiehadmeantwithhercrypticcomment,Keepyourcool,lad,andwhyLisacouldn’tshiftthefrownthatcreasedherbrow.
“CallmeJeet,”heoffered.Hissmilewaswide,natural,andconfident.
“O-kay,”Iansweredevenly,notreallysmiling.“Pleasedtomeetyou,Jeet.”
“Andit’sapleasuretomeetyou,”hecountered,withthewellroundedandmusicalinflectionofBombay’sbestprivateschoolsanduniversities:myfavouriteaccentinallthebeautifulwaystospeaktheEnglishlanguage.“I’veheardsomuchaboutyou.”
“Achaa?”Irespondedwithoutthinking,exactlyasanIndianofmyagemight’vedone.Theword,initsliteraltranslation,meansgood.InthatcontextandwiththatinflectionitmeantOh,yeah?
“Yes,”helaughed,releasingmyhand.“Karlatalksaboutyouoften.You’requitetheherotoher,I’msureyouknow.”
“That’sfunny,”Ianswered,notsureifhewasasingenuousasheseemedtobe.“Sheoncetoldmethatheroesonlycomeinthreekinds:dead,damaged,ordubious.”
Hetippedhisheadbackandroaredwithlaughter,hismouthopenwideenoughtorevealaperfectsetofperfectIndianteeth.
Stilllaughing,hemetmyeyeandwaggedhisheadinwonder.
Sothat’spartofit,Ithought.Hegetsherjokes.Helikesherplaywithwords.Heunderstandsherloveofthemandhercleverness.That’soneofthereasonswhyshelikeshim.Okay.
Therestofitwasmoreobvious.Hehadalithebuild,andwasaveragetall,myheight,withanopen,handsomeface.Morethanjustthesumofgoodfeatures-highcheekbones,ahigh,wideforehead,expressivetopaz-colouredeyes,astrongnose,smilingmouth,andfirmchin-itwasthekindoffacethatoncewould’vebeencalleddashing:theloneyachtsman,themountaineer,thejungleadventurer.Heworehishairshort.Thehairlinewasreceding,buteventhatseemedtosuithim,asifitwasthepreferredoptionforhealthy,athleticmen.Andtheclothes-IknewthemwellfromtheshoppingexpeditionsthatSanjay,Andrew,Faisal,andtheothermafiosimadetothemostexpensivestoresinthecity.Therewasn’taself-respectinggangsterinBombaywhowouldn’thavepursedhislipsandwaggedhisheadinapprovalofRanjit’sclothes.
“Well,”Isaid,shufflingmyfeettomovearoundhimandgreetKalpana,thelastfriendsittingintheloopofthetable.Shewasworkingasafirst-assistantdirectorforMehta-DeSouzaproductions,andintrainingtobecomeadirectorinherownright.Shelookedupatmeandwinked.
“Wait,”Ranjitrequested,softlybutquickly.“Iwantedtotellyou…aboutyourstories…yourshortstories…”
IturnedtoflinchafrownatKavitaSingh,whohunchedhershouldersandraisedthepalmsofherhandsasshelookedaway.
“Kavitaletmereadthem,andIwantedtotellyouhowgoodtheyare.Imean,howgood_Ithinktheyare.”
“Well,thanks,”Imuttered,tryingonceagaintomovepasthim.
“Really.Ireadthemall,andIthinkthey’rereallygreat.”
Therearefewthingsmorediscomfitingthanaspontaneousoutburstofgenuinedecencyfromsomeoneyou’redeterminedtodislikefornogoodreason.Ifeltalittleblushofshamebeginningtospreadacrossmycheeks.
“Thanks,”Isaid,puttingtruthintomyeyesandmyvoiceforthefirsttime.“It’sdamnnicetohear,evenifKavitawasn’tsupposedtoshowthemtoanyone.”
“Iknowshewasn’t,”hesaidquickly.“ButIthinkyoushould-showthemtosomeone,Imean.They’renotrightformypaper.
It’snottherightforum.ButTheNoonday,well,itwouldbetheperfectforumforthem.AndIknowthey’dbuythemforaveryfairprice.TheeditorofTheNoonday,Anil,isafriendofmine.
Iknowwhathelikes,andIknowhe’lllikeyourstories.Ididn’tshowhimyourwork,ofcourse.Notwithoutyourpermission.ButIdidtellhimthatIreadthem,andthatIthinkthey’regood.Hewantstomeetyou.Ifyoutakeyourstoriestohim,I’msureyou’llgetonwellwithhim.Anyway,I’llleaveitatthat.He’shopingtoseeyou.Butit’suptoyou.Whateveryoudecide,Iwishyouallthebest.”
Hesatdown,andImovedpasthimtogreetKalpanaandthentakemyplacebesideDidier.IwassodistractedbytheexchangewithRanjit-Jeet-ChoudrythatIonlyhalf-listenedtoDidier’sannouncementofhisplannedtriptoItalywithArturo.Threemonths,Iheardhimsay,andIrememberthinkingthatthreemonthsinItalycouldbecomethreeyears,andthatImightlosehim.ThethoughtwassostrangethatIwouldn’tletmyselfconsiderit.BombaywithoutDidierwaslike…BombaywithoutLeopold’s,ortheHajiAliMosque,ortheGatewayMonument.Itwasunthinkable.
Pushingthethoughtaway,Ilookedaroundthelaughing,drinking,talkingtableoffriends,andfilledtheemptyglasswithinme,pouringtheirsuccessesandtheirhopesintomyeyes.ThenIreturnedmyattentiontoRanjit,Karla’sboyfriend.I’ddonemyhomeworkonhiminrecentmonths.Iknewthathewasthesecondeldest-somesaidthefavourite-offoursonsborntoRamprakashChoudry,atruckdriverwho’dmadehisfortuneresupplyingcoastaltownsinBangladeshthathadbeenhitbycyclones.Thefirstgovernmenttendershadgrownintomajorcontracts,requiringfleetsoftrucksand,eventually,charteredaircraftandships.Alongtheway,Choudryhadacquiredasmall-circulationBombaynewspaperaspartofamergerwithamorediversifiedtransportandcommunicationsfirm.
He’dhandedthepapertohissonRanjit,who’djustgraduatedwithabusinessdegreeandwasthefirst,onbothsidesofhisfamily,tocompletehighschoolandtoattendanykindoffurther-educationcollege.Ranjithadbeenrunningthepaper,rebadgedasTheDailyPost,foreightyears.HissuccesswithThePost,asitwasknown,hadallowedRanjittosegueintotheincipientfieldofindependenttelevisionproduction.
Hewaswealthy,influential,popular,andpossessedofanentrepreneurialelaninprint,movies,andtelevision:amediabaroninthemaking.TherewererumoursofresentmentsstirringintheheartofRanjit’solderbrotherRahul,who’djoinedhisfatherinthetransportbusinessinhisearlyteenageyears,andhadneverenjoyedtheprivate-schooleducationlavisheduponRanjitandtheyoungersiblings.Therewasgossip,also,aboutthetwoyoungerbrothers,thewildpartiestheysometimesthrew,andthelargebribesrequiredtokeepthemoutoftrouble.TherewasnocriticismofRanjit,however,inanyconnection;andapartfromthosefewsimmeringconcerns,hislifeseemedalmostcharmed.
Hewas,asLettiehadoncesaid,quiteafatandshinycatch.AndasIwatchedhimwithfriends-listeningmorethanhetalked,smilingmorethanhefrowned,self-deprecatingandconsiderate,tactfulandattentive-Ihadtoadmittomyselfthathewasaverylikeableman.And,strangely,Ifeltsorryforhim.Afewyearsorevenmonthsbefore,Iwould’vebeenjealousthathewassuchalikeableman-suchaveryniceguy,asmorethanafewpeoplesaidtomewhenI’daskedthemabouthim.Iwould’vehatedhim.ButIfeltnothinglikethatforRanjitChoudry.Instead,asIwatchedhim,rememberingtoomuchofwhatI’dfeltforKarla,andthinkingaboutherclearlyforthefirsttimein…alongtime,Ifeltsorryfortherich,handsomemediabaron,andIwishedhimluck.
ForhalfanhourItalkedacrossthetablewithLisaandtheothersandthenIlookeduptoseeJohnnyCigar,standinginthewidedoorwayandgesturingtocatchmyeye.Delightedtohaveanexcusetoleave,IturnedtoDidieranddrewhimaroundtofaceme.“Listen,ifyou’rereallyseriousaboutgoingtoItalyforthreemonths-”
“Certainly,Iam-”hebegan,butIcuthimoffquickly.
“Andifyou’rereallyseriousaboutneedingsomeonetolookafteryourplaceforyouwhileyou’reaway,IthinkI’vegotjusttheguysforthejob.”
“Oh,yes?Andwhoarethey?”
“TheGeorges,”Ireplied.“TheZodiacGeorges.GeminiandScorpio.”
Didierwasappalled.
“Butthese…theseGeorgepeople…theyare,howcanIsayit?”
“Reliable?”Isuggested.“Honest.Clean.Loyal.Brave.And,aboveall,themostimportantqualificationforsituationslikethis,they’reabsolutelynotinterestedinstayinginyourapartmentforaminutelongerthanyouwantthemto.Infact,I’llhaveadamnhardjobtalkingthemintoitinthefirstplace.Theylikethestreet.Theywon’twanttodoit.ButifIletthemknowthey’redoingmeafavour,theymightagree.They’lldoagoodjoboflookingafteryourplaceforyou,andthey’llgetthreemonthsofsafelivinginadecentplace.”
“Decent?”Didierscoffed.“Whatdoyoumean,decent?MyapartmentiswithoutparallelinBombay,Lin.Youknowthat.Excellent,Icanunderstand.Superb,Icanaccept.Butdecent-non!ItislikesayingthatIliveinthefishmarketand,er,whatdoyousay,whooshitouteverydaywithawaterhose!”
“Sowhatdoyouthink?I’vegottago.”
“Decent!”hesniffed.
“Comeon,man,willyouforgetaboutthat!”
“Well,yes,perhapsyouareright.Ihavenothingagainstthem.
TheGeorgefromCanada,theScorpio,hedoesspeaksomeFrench.
Thatistrue.Yes.Yes.TellthemIthinkitisagoodidea.Tellthemtoseeme,andIwillspeaktothem-withverycarefulinstructions.”
LaughingasIsaidgoodbye,IjoinedJohnnyCigaratthedoorwayoftherestaurant.Hepulledmeclosetohim.
“Canyoucomewithme?Now?”heasked.
“Sure.Walkingortaxi?”
“Ithinktaxi,Lin.”
Wepushedourwaythroughthebreakingwavesofwalkerstotheroadandfoundataxi.Iwassmilingaswewavedthetaxidownandclimbedinside.Formonths,I’dbeentryingtofindawaytohelpGeminiandScorpioGeorgethatwasmoremeaningfulthanthemoneyIgavethemfromtimetotime.Didier’sholidaywithArturoprovidedtheperfectopportunity.IknewthatthreemonthsinDidier’sapartmentwouldaddyearstotheirlives:threemonthswithoutthestressofstreetlivingandwiththesecuregoodhealththatonlyahomeandhomecookingcanprovide.AndIalsoknewthat,withtheZodiacGeorgesinhisapartmentwhilehewasgone,DidierwouldworryjustenoughtomakehisreturntoBombayalittlemorelikely,andalittlesooner.
“Whereto?”IaskedJohnny.
“WorldTradeCentre,”hetoldthedriver,smilingatmebutclearlyconcernedaboutsomething.
“What’sup?”
“Thereisaproblematthezhopadpatti,”heansweredme.
“Okay,”Isaid,knowingthathewouldn’tsayanythingelseabouttheproblemuntilhethoughtthemomentwasright.“How’sthebaby?”
“Fine,veryfine,”helaughed.“Hehassuchastronggrabonmyfingers.Hewillbebigandstrong-biggerthanhisfather,sure.
AndPrabaker’sbaby,fromthesisterofmySita,Parvati,thatbabyisalsoverybeautiful.HeisverymuchlikePrabaker…inhisfaceandhissmiling.”
Ididn’twanttothinkaboutmydead,belovedfriend.
“Andhow’sSita?Andthegirls?”Iasked.
“Theyarefine,Lin,allfine.”
“You’llhavetowatchout,Johnny,”Iwarnedhim.“Threekidsinlessthanthreeyears-beforeyouknowit,you’llbeafat,oldguywithninekidsclimbingallaroundyou.”
“Itisafinedream,”hesighedhappily.
“How’swork?Howareyou…howyoudoingformoney?”
“Alsofine,veryfine,Lin.Everybodypaystaxes,andnobodylikesit.Mybusinessisgood.Sitaandme,wedecidedtobuythehousenexttoours,andmakeabiggerhouseforthefamily.”
“That’sfantastic!Ican’twaittoseeit.”
TherewasalittlesilenceandthenJohnnyturnedtomewithanexpressionofworry,almostoftorment.
“Lin,thattimewhenyouaskedmetoworkforyou,toworkwithyou,andIrefused-”
“It’sokay,Johnny.”
“No,itisnotokay.Iwanttotellyou,Ishouldhavesaidyes,andIshouldhaveworkedbesideyou.”“Areyouintrouble?”Iasked,notunderstandinghim.“Isbusinessnotasgoodasyousaiditwas?Doyouneedmoney?”
“No,no,everythingisfinewithme.ButifIwaswithyouthattime,watchingyou,maybeyouwouldnotstillbeworkingforallthesemonthsattheblackbusiness,withthosegoondas.”
“No,Johnny.”
“Iblamemyselfeveryday,Lin,”hesaid,hislipspulledwideinananguishedgrimace.“Ithinkthatyouaskedmetoworkwithyou,tobeyourfriend,becauseyoudidneedafriendatthattime.Iwasabadfriend,Lin,andIblamemyself.EverydayIfeelbadaboutit.IamsosorrythatIrefusedyou.”
Iputmyhandonhisshoulder,buthewouldn’tmeetmyeye.
“Look,Johnny,you’vegottounderstand.WhatIdo,Idon’tfeelgoodaboutit,butIdon’tfeelbadaboutit,either.Youdofeelbadaboutit.AndIrespectthat.Iadmireit.Andyou’reagoodfriend.”
“No,”hemurmured,hiseyesstilldowncast.
“Yes,”Iinsisted.“Iloveyou,man.”
“Lin!”hesaid,grabbingmyarmwithsudden,urgentconcern.
“Please,please,becarefulwiththesegoondas.Please!”
Ismiled,tryingtoputhimatease.
“Man,”Iprotested,“areyouevergonnatellmewhatthisdamntripisabout?”
“Bears!”hesaid.
“Bears?”
“Well,actually,youknow,onlyonebearisourproblem.YouknowKano?Kanothebear?”
“SureIknowhim,”Imuttered.“Bahinchudhbear-what’shappened?
Hashegothimselfputinjailagain?”
“No,no,Lin.Heisnotinthejail.”
“Good.Atleasthe’snotarecidivist.”
“Actually,youknow,heescapedfromthejail.”
“Shit…”
“Andnowheisafugitivebear,witharewardpriceonhishead,orhispaws,oranypartofhimtheycancatch.”
“Kano’sontherun?”
“Yes.Theyevenhaveawantedposter.”
“Awhat?”“Awantedposter,”heexplainedpatiently.“Theytookaphotoofhim,thatKano,withhistwobluebear-wallahs,whentheyarrestedthemagain.Now,theyareusingthatphotoforthewantedposter.”
“Who’s_they?”
“Thestategovernment,theMaharashtrapolice,theBorderSecurityForce,andtheWildlifeProtectionAuthority.”
“Christ,whatdidKanodo?Whodidhekill?”
“Notkilledanyone,Lin.Thestory,whathappened,theWildlifeAuthorityhasanewpolicy,tostopcrueltytothedancingbears.
Theydon’tknowthatKano’sbear-wallahs,theylovehimsomuch,likeabigbrother,andhelovesthemalso,andtheywouldneverhurthim.Butthepolicyisthepolicy.So,theWildlife-wallahs,theycapturedKano,andtheytookhimtotheanimaljail.Andhewascryingandcryingforhisbluebear-wallahs.Andthebearwallahs,theywereoutsidetheanimaljail,andtheywerealsocryingandcrying.AndtwoofthoseWildlife-wallahs,twowatchmenonduty,theygotveryupsetaboutallthecrying,sotheywentoutside,andtheystartedbeatingKano’sbluemenwithlathis.Theygavethemasolidpasting.AndKano,hesawhistwobluemengettingthatbeating,andhejustlosthiscontrol.Hebrokedownthatcageandmadeanescape.Thetwobear-wallahsgotabigfeelingofcourage,andtheybeatuptheWildlifefellowsandranawaywithKano.Nowtheyarehidinginourzhopadpatti,inthesamehutthatyouusedtohaveasyourhouse.Andwehavetotrytogetthemoutofthecitywithoutgettingcaptured.OurproblemishowtogetthatKanofromthezhopadpattitoNarimanPoint.Thereisatruckwaitingthere,andthedriverhasagreedtotakeKanoawaywithhisbear-wallahs.”
“Noteasy,”Imurmured.“Andwithagoddamnwantedposterfortheblueguysandthebear.Jesus!”
“Willyouhelpus,Lin?Wefeelverysorryforthatbear.Loveisaspecialthingintheworld.Whentwomenhavesomuchloveintheirhearts,evensoitisforabear,itmustbeprotected,isn’tit?”
“Well…”
“Isn’tit?”
“Sureitis,”Ismiled.“Sureitis.I’llbegladtohelp,ifIcan.Andyoucandomeafavouraswell.”
“Anything.”
“Trytogetmeoneofthosewantedposterswiththepictureofthebearandtheblueguys.Igottahaveoneofthoseposters.”
“Theposter?”
“Yeah.It’salongstory.Don’tworryaboutit.Just,ifyouseeone,grabitforme.Haveyougotaplan?”
Thetaxipulledupoutsidetheslumastheevening,emptiedofitssunsetandpaleenoughtounveilthefirstfewstars,drewsquealing,playingfaronadesofchildrenbacktotheirhuts,whereplumesofsmokefromcookingfiresflutteredintothecoolingair.
“Theplan,”Johnnyannouncedaswewalkedquicklythroughthefamiliarlanes,noddingandsmilingtofriendsalongtheway,“istodressupthebearinadisguise.”
“Idunno,”Isaiddoubtfully.“He’srealtall,asIremember,andkindabig.”
“Atfirst,weputahatandacoatonhim,andevenanumbrellahangingfromhiscoat,likeanoffice-workingfellow.”
“Howdidhelook?”
“Notsogood,”Johnnyrepliedwithoutatraceofironyorsarcasm.“Hestilllookedquitealotlikeabear,butabearwithclothes.”
“Youdon’tsay.”
“Yes.So,nowtheplanistogetabigMuslimdress,youknowtheone?FromAfghanistan?Coveringallthewholebody,withonlyafewholestoseeoutofit.”
“Aburkha.”
“Exactly.TheboyswenttoMohammedAliRoadtobuythebiggestonetheycouldfind.Theyshouldbe-ah!Look!Theyareherealready,andwecantryit,toseehowdoesitlook.”
WecameuponagroupofadozenmenandasimilarnumberofwomenandchildrengatherednearthehutwhereI’dlivedandworkedforalmosttwoyears.AndalthoughI’dleftthezhopadpatti,convincedthatIcouldneverlivethereagain,italwaysgavemeathrillofpleasuretoseethehumblelittlehut,andstandnearit.ThefewforeignersI’dtakentotheslum-andeventheIndians,suchasKavitaSinghandVikram,who’dvisitedmethere–hadbeenhorrifiedbytheplaceandaghasttothinkthatI’dchosentostaytheresolong.Theycouldn’tunderstandthateverytimeIenteredtheslumIfelttheurgetoletgoandsurrendertoasimpler,poorerlifethatwasyetricherinrespect,andlove,andavicinalconnectednesstothesurroundingseaofhumanhearts.Theycouldn’tunderstandwhatImeantwhenItalkedaboutthepurityoftheslum:they’dbeenthere,andseenthewretchednessandfilthforthemselves.Theysawnopurity.Buttheyhadn’tlivedinthosemiraculousacres,andtheyhadn’tlearnedthattosurviveinsuchawritheofhopeandsorrowthepeoplehadtobescrupulouslyandheartbreakinglyhonest.Thatwasthesourceoftheirpurity:aboveallthings,theyweretruetothemselves.
So,withmydishonestheartthrillingatthenearnessofmyonceandfavouritehome,Ijoinedthegroupandthengaspedasahuge,shroudedfigureemergedfrombesidethehutandstoodamongus.
“Holyshit!”Isaid,gawkingatthetowering,immenseform.Theblue-greyburkhacoveredthestandingbearfromitsheadtotheground.Ifoundmyselfwonderingatthesizeofthewomanthatgarmenthadbeenintendedtocover,becausethestandingbearwasafullheadtallerthanthetallestmaninourgroup.“Holyshit!”
Aswewatched,theshapelessformtookafewlumberingsteps,knockingoverastoolandwaterpotasitswayedandlurchedforward.
“Maybe,”Jeetendrasuggestedhelpfully,“sheisaverytall,fat…clumsykindofawoman.”
Thebearsuddenlystoopedandthenfellforwardontoitsfourpaws.Wefolloweditwithoureyes.Theblue-grey,burkha-cladfiguretrundledforward,allthewhileemittingalow,grumblingmoan.
“Maybe,”Jeetendraamended,“sheisasmall,fat…growlingwoman.”
“Agrowlingwoman?”JohnnyCigarprotested.“Whatthehellisagrowlingwoman?”
“Idon’tknow,”Jeetendrawhined.“Iamonlytryingtobehelping.”
“You’regoingtohelpthisbearallthewaybacktojail,”Imuttered,“ifyouletitgooutofherelikethat.”
“Wecouldtrythehatandcoatagain,”Josephoffered.“Maybeabiggerhat…and…andamorefashionablecoat.”
“Idon’tthinkfashion’syourproblem,”Isighed.“FromwhatJohnnytellsme,youhavetogetKanofromheretoNarimanPointwithoutthecopsspottingyou,isthatright?”
“Yes,Linbaba,”Josephanswered.IntheabsenceofQasimAliHussein,whowasenjoyingasix-monthholidayinhishomevillagewithmostofhisfamily,Josephwastheheadmanoftheslum.Themanwho’dbeenbeatenanddisciplinedbyhisneighboursforthebrutal,drunkenattackonhiswifehadbecomealeader.Intheyearssincethatdayofthebeat-ing,Josephhadgivenupdrinking,regainedhiswife’slove,andearnedtherespectofhisneighbours.He’djoinedeveryimportantcouncilorcommittee,andworkedharderthananyotherinthegroup.Suchwastheextentofhisreformandhissoberdedicationtothewell-beingofhisfamilyandhiscommunitythat,whenQasimAlinominatedJosephashistemporaryreplacement,noothernamewastenderedforconsideration.“ThereisatruckparkedneartotheNarimanPoint.ThedriversaysthathewilltaketheKanoandcarryhimoutofthemunicipality,outofthestate,also.Hewillputhimandthebear-wallahsbackintheirnativeplace,backinU.P.,allthewaybacktoGorakhpurside,neartotheNepal.Butthattruckdriver,heisafraidtocomenearthisplacetocollecttheKano.Hewantsthatwetakethatbearto_himonly.Buthowtodoit,Linbaba?Howtogetsuchabigbearstothatplace?SurethingapolicepatrolwillseeKanoandmakeanarrestofhim.Andtheywillbearrestingus,also,forthehelpofescapingbears.Andthen?Whatthen?Howtodoit,Linbaba?Thatistheproblem.Thatiswhywewerethinkingaboutthedisguises.”
“Kano-wallehkahanhey?”Iasked.WhereareKano’shandlers?
“Here,baba!”Jeetendrareplied,pushingthetwobear-handlersforward.
They’dwashedthemselvescleanofthebrilliantbluedyethatusuallycoveredtheirbodies,andthey’dstrippedawayalloftheirsilverornaments.Theirlongdreadlocksanddecoratedplaitswereconcealedbeneathturbans,andtheyworeplainwhiteshirtsandtrousers.Unadornedanddecolourised,thebluemenseemedspiritless,andmuchsmallerandslighterthanthefantasticbeingsI’dfirstencounteredintheslum.
“Tellme,willKanositonaplatform?”
“Yes,baba!”theysaidwithpride.
“Forhowlongwillhesitstill?”
“Foranhour,ifwearewithhim,nearhim,talkingtohim.Maybemorethanonehour,baba-unlessheneedstomakeawee.Andifso,heisalwaystellingfirst.”
“Okay.Willhesitonasmall,movingplatform-oneonwheels-ifwepushit?”Iaskedthem.
TherewassomediscussionwhileItriedtoexplainwhatkindofplatformortableIhadinmind:onemountedonwheelsforcarryingfruit,vegetables,andothergoodsaroundtheslumanddisplayingthemforsale.Whenitwasclear,andsuchahawker’scartwasfoundandwheeledintotheclearing,thebear-handlerswaggledtheirheadsexcitedlythatyes,yes,yes,Kanowouldsitonsuchamovingtable.Theyaddedthatitwaspossibletosteadyhimonthetablebyusingropes,andthathewouldn’tfindthatsecurefasteningobjectionableiftheyfirstexplaineditsnecessitytohim.Butwhat,theywantedtoknow,didIhaveinmind?
“OnmywayinwithJohnnyjustnow,IpassedoldRakeshbaba’sworkshop,”Iexplainedquickly.“Thelampswerelit,andIsawalotofpiecesfromhisGaneshsculptures.Someofthemareprettybig.They’remadefrompapier-mache,sothey’renotveryheavy,andthey’reallhollowinside.They’rebigenough,Ithink,tofitrightoverthetopofKano’shead,andtocoverhisbodyifhe’ssittingdown.Withabitofsilkfortrimming,andafewgarlandsofflowersfordecoration…”
“So…youthink…”Jeetendrastammered.
“WeshoulddisguiseKanoasGanesh,”JohnnyCigarconcluded,“andpushhimonthetrolley,likeaGanpattidevotion,allthewaytoNarimanPoint,rightdownthemiddleofthestreet.It’sagreatidea,Lin!”
“ButGaneshChaturthifinishedlastweek,”Josephsaid,referringtotheannualfestivalwherehundredsofGaneshfigures-somesmallenoughtoholdinthehand,andotherstoweringtenmetrestall-werepushedthroughthecitytoChowpattyBeachandthenhurledintotheseaamidacrowdofclosetoamillionpeople.“ImyselfwasinthemelaatChowpatty.Thetimeforithasfinished,Linbaba.”
“Iknow.Iwasthere,too.That’swhatgavemetheidea.Idon’tthinkit’llmatterthatthefestivalisover.Iwouldn’tthinktwiceifIsawaGanpattiatanytimeoftheyear.WouldanyofyouaskquestionsifyousawaGanesha,onatrolley,beingwheeleddownthestreet?”
Ganesh,theelephant-headedGod,wasarguablythemostpopularinalltheHindupantheon,andIwassureno-onewouldthinktostopandsearchalittleprocessionfeaturingalargesculptureofhisformonamovingtrolley.
“Ithinkheisright,”Jeetendraagreed.“NobodywillsayanythingaboutaGanesha.Afterall,LordGaneshaistheLordofObstacles,na?”
Theelephant-headedgodwasknownastheLordofObstaclesandtheGreatSolverofProblems.PeopleintroubleappealedtohimwithprayersinmuchthesamewaythatsomeChristiansappealedtotheirpatronsaints.Hewasalsothedivineministrantofwriters.“ItwillbenotaproblemtopushaGaneshatoNarimanPoint,”
Joseph’swife,Maria,pointedout.“ButhowtoputthatKanobearintothedisguise-thatisaproblem.Justputtinghiminthedresswasaverydifficultjob.”
“Hedidnotlikethedress,”oneofthebear-handlersdeclaredreasonably.“Heisamanbear,youknow,andsensitiveaboutsuchthings.”
“ButhewillnotmindtheGaneshadisguise,”hisfriendadded.“Iknowhewillthinkitisverygoodfun.Heisverygreedyforattention,Ihavetosay.Thatisoneofhistwobadhabits:that,andflirtationswithgirls.”
WewerespeakinginHindi,andthelastexchangewastooswiftformetofollow.
“Whatdidhesay?”IaskedJohnny.“WhatwasKano’sbadhabit?”
“Flirtations,”Johnnyreplied.“Withgirls.”
“Flirtations?Whatthehelldotheymean?”
“Well,I’mnotexactlysure,butIthink-”
“No,don’t!”Iinterruptedhim,disowningthequestion.“Please…don’ttellmewhatitmeans.”
Ilookedaroundmeatthepressofexpectantfaces.ForamomentIfeltathrillofwonderandenvythatthelittlecommunityofneighboursandfriendsworriedsomuchabouttheproblemsoftwoitinerantbear-handlers-andthebear,ofcourse.Thatunequivocalinvolvement,onewithanother,anditsunquestioningsupport-strongerandmoreurgentthaneventheco-operationI’dseeninPrabaker’svillage-wassomethingI’dlostwhenI’dlefttheslumtoliveinthecomfortable,richerworld.I’dneverreallyfounditanywhereelse,exceptwithinthehigh-sierraofmymother’slove.AndbecauseIknewitwiththem,once,inthesublimeandwretchedacresofthoseraggedhuts,Ineverstoppedwantingitandsearchingforit.
“Well,Ireallycan’tthinkofanotherway,”Isighedagain.“Ifwejustcoverhimwithragsorfruitorsomethingandtrytopushhimthere,he’llmoveandmakeanoise.Andiftheyseeus,we’llgetstopped.ButifwemakehimlooklikeGanesh,wecanchantandsingandcrowdaroundhimandmakeourownnoise-asmuchnoiseaswewant.AndIdon’tthinkthecopswouldeverstopus.
Whatdoyouthink,Johnny?”
“Ilikeit,”Johnnysaid,grinninghappilyinappreciationoftheplan.“Ithinkit’safineplan,andIsaywegiveitatry.”
“Yes,also_Ilikeit,”Jeetendrasaid,hiseyeswidewithexcitement.“But,youknow,wemustbetterhurry-thetruckwillonlywaitforoneortwohoursmore,Ithinkso.”Theyallnoddedorwaggedtheirheadsinagreement:Satish,Jeetendra’sson;Maria;FaroukhandRaghuram,thetwofriendswho’dfoughtandbeentiedattheanklebyQasimAliasapunishment;andAyubandSiddhartha,thetwoyoungmenwho’drunthefreeclinicsinceI’dlefttheslum.Finally,Josephsmiledandgavehisassent.WithKanotrundlingalongonallfoursbesideus,wemadeourwaythroughthedarkeninglanestothelargedouble-hutthatwasoldRakeshbaba’sworkshop.
Theelderlysculptorraisedhisgrizzledbrowswhenweenteredhishut,butaffectedtoignoreusandcontinuedwiththeworkofsandingandpolishinganewlymouldedsectionofafibreglassreligiousfriezealmosttwometresinlength.Heworkedatalongtablemadefromthickbuilder’splanks,lashedtogetherandrestingontwocarpenter’strestles.Woodandfibreglassshavingscoveredthetableandlayinchipsandwhorls,alongwithrindsofpapier-mache,athisbarefeet.Sectionsofthesculptedandmouldedforms-headsandlimbsandbodieswithgorgeouslyroundedbellies-restedonthefloorofthehutamidavenerableprofusionofplaques,reliefs,statues,andotherpieces.
Hetooksomeconvincing.Theartistwasnotoriouslycantankerousandheassumed,atfirst,thatweweretryingtomockthegods,andhim,withaprankorahoax.Intheend,threeelementspersuadedhimtohelpus.Firstwasthebear-handlers’impassionedappealtotheproblem-solvinggeniusofGanesha,theLordofObstacles.Theelephant-headedonewas,asitturnedout,oldRakeshbaba’spersonalfavouritefromtheabundantplaneofthedivine.Second,Johnny’ssubtlesuggestionthatperhapsthetaskwasbeyondthecreativeskilloftheoldsculptorprovedatellingblow.RakeshbabashoutedthathecoulddisguisetheTajMahalitselfinaGaneshasculpture,ifhesodesired,andthecamouflageofabearwasameretrifletosuchagiftedartist,asthewholeworldknewandproclaimedhimtobe.Third,andperhapsmostinfluential,wasKanohimself.Apparentlygrowingimpatientinthelaneoutside,theburlycreatureforceditswayintothehutandthenlaydownonitsbackbesideRakeshbaba,withallfourpawsintheair.Thegrouchysculptorwastransformedimmediatelyintoagiggling,cacklingchildashebenttoscratchthecreature’sbellyandplaywithitsgentlywhirlingpaws.
Hestoodatlasttoshoveallofusbutthebear-handlersandthebearfromhisworkshop.Thewoodencartwaswheeledinside,andthewiry,grey-hairedartistdrewhisreedcurtainsacrosstheentrance.
Worriedbutexcited,wewaitedoutside,swappingstoriesandpoppingbubblesofnews.Theslumhadsurvivedthelastmonsoonwithlittlerealdamage,Siddharthatoldme,andnoseriousoutbreaksofillness.QasimAliHussein,celebratingthebirthofhisfourthgrandson,hadtakenhisextendedfamilytohisbirthvillageinKarnatakaState.Hewaswell,andingoodspirits,allofthevoicesconfirmed.Jeetendraseemedtohaverecovered,inasmuchassuchathingispossible,fromthedeathofhiswifeinthecholeraepidemic.Althoughhe’dvowednevertoremarry,heworkedandprayedandlaughedenoughtokeepthesoulbrightwithinhiseyes.HissonSatish,who’dbeensullenandquarrelsomeforatimeafterhismother’sdeath,hadatlastovercomethealoofnessofgrieving,andwasengagedtoagirlhe’dknownsincehisearliestmemoryintheslum.Thepromisedpairwasstilltooyoungtomarry,buttheirbetrothalgavethembothjoy,andwasacommitmenttothefuturethatgladdenedJeetendra’sheart.Andonebyone,eachinhisownway,everyoneinthegroupthatnightpraisedJoseph,theredeemedone,thenewleaderwholoweredhisgazeshylyandonlyraisedhiseyestosharehisembarrassedsmilewithMaria,standingathisside.
Atlast,Rakeshbabapulledasidethereedcurtainsandbeckonedustoenterhisworkshop.Wecrowdedtogetherandsteppedintothegoldenlamplight.Agasp,someofusbreathinginandsomepuffingout,rustledthroughourgroupaswelookedatthecompletedsculpture.Kanowasnotsimplydisguised-hewastransfiguredintotheformoftheelephant-headedgod.Ahugeheadhadbeenfittedoverthebear’shead,andrestedonapink,round-belliedbody,witharmsattached.Swathesoflightbluesilksurroundedthebaseofthefigurewhereitrestedonthetrolley.Garlandsofflowerswereheapedontheflattableandaroundtheneckofthegod,concealingthejoinforthehead.
“Isitreallyinthere,thatKano-bear?”Jeetendraasked.
Atthesoundofhisvoice,thebearturnedhishead.Whatwesawwasthelivinggod,Ganesha,turnhiselephantheadtostareatusfromhispaintedeyes.Itwasthemovementofananimal,ofcourse,andutterlyunlikeahumangesture.Thewholegroup,myselfincluded,flinchedinsurpriseandfright.Thechildrenwithussquealed,andpushedthemselvesbackwardsintotheprotectivevinesofadultlegsandarms.
“Bhagwaaaaan,”Jeetendrabreathed.“Wow,”JohnnyCigaragreed.“Whatdoyouthink,Lin?”
“I’m…gladI’mnotstoned,”Imuttered,staringasthegodtiltedhisheadandutteredalow,moaningsound.Iforcedmyselftoact.“Comeon,let’sdoit!”
Werolledoutoftheslumwithaknotofsupporters.OncepasttheWorldTradeCentreandintotheresidentialboulevardleadingtotheBackBayarea,webeganatentativechant.Thosenearesttothecartputtheirhandsonitandhelpedtopushorpullitalong.ThoselikeJohnnyandme,onthefringe,clungtotheothersandaddedourvoicestothechant.Aswegatheredspeedtoafastwalk,thechantinggrewmorevigorous.Inawhile,manyofthehelpersseemedtoforgetthatwewerebear-smugglers,andhurledtheirvoicesintodevoutlypassionatechantsandresponses,nolessinspired,Iwassure,thanthey’dbeenaweekbeforeontherealpilgrimage.
Aswewalked,itoccurredtomethattheslumhadbeenstrangelydevoidofpariahdogs.Inoticedthattherewerenonevisibleanywhereonthestreets.RememberinghowviolentlythedogshadreactedtoKano’sfirstvisittotheslum,IfeltmovedtomentionittoJohnny.
“Arrey,kuttanahin,”Isaid.Gee,there’snodogshere.
Johnny,Narayan,Ali,andthefewothermenwho’dheardthecommentturnedtheirfacestomequicklyandstared,wide-eyedwithamazementandworry.Sureenough,secondslaterashrill,whininghowlbrokeoutfromthefootpathtoourleft.Adogrushedoutfromitscoverandlauncheditselfatus,barkingfuriously.Itwasasmall,wizened,mangycurofathing,notmuchbiggerthanafair-sizedBombayrat,yetthebarkingwasloudenoughtopiercethescreenofsoundinourchanting.
Ittookonlyseconds,ofcourse,formorepariahdogstojoininthehowlingaffray.Theycamefromleftandright,singleanimalsandgroupsofthem,yelpingandyowlingandgrowlinghideously.
Inanattempttodrownthemout,weraisedourchantstogreatervolume,allthewhilekeepingourwaryeyesonthesnappingjawsofthedogs.
AsweapproachedtheBackBayareawepassedanopenmaidan,orfield,whereapartyofweddingmusiciansdressedinbrightredand-yellowuniforms,completewithtall,plumedhats,wasrehearsingitssongs.Seeingourlittleprocessionasanopportunitytopractisetheirmusiconthemarch,theyswunginbehindusandstruckuparousing,ifnotparticularlycanorous,versionofapopulardevotionalsong.Incitedbythespectaclethatoursmugglingmissionhadbecome,happychildrenandpiousadultsleftthefootpathsandstreamedtowardus,joininginthethunderouschantsandswellingournumberstomorethanahundredsouls.
Agitated,nodoubt,bythewildthrongandfrenziedbarking,Kanothebearswayedfromsidetosideonthecart,turninghisheadtofollowthepeaksofsound.Atonepointwepassedagroupofstrollingpolicemen,andIriskedaglancetoseethemstandingcompletelystill,theirmouthsopenandtheirheadsturningasone,likearowofmouth-clowndummiesatacarnivalsideshow,aswepassed.
Aftertoomanylongminutesofthatbrawlingandroistering,wewerenearenoughtoNarimanPointtoseethetoweroftheOberoiHotel.Worriedthatwe’dneverridourselvesoftheweddingband,Iranbacktopressabundleofnotesintothehandoftheirbandmaster,withinstructionsthatheshouldturnright,awayfromus,andmarchalongMarineDrive.Aswenearedthesea,heledhismenrightwhenwemovedleft.Emboldened,perhaps,bytheirsuccessfultourwithourlittleparade,themusicianslaunchedintoamedleyofdancehitsastheymarchedawaytowardthebrighterlightsoftheoceandrive.Mostofthecrowdjiggedanddancedawaywiththem.Eventhedogs,luredtoofarbeyondtheirprowlingdomain,turnedawayfromusandcreptbackintothemeanshadowsthathadspawnedthem.
Wepushedthecartfurtheralongthesearoadtowardthedesertedspotwherethetruckwasparked.JustthenIheardacarhornsounding,closeby.Myheartsinkingatthethoughtthatitwasthepolice,Islowlyturnedtolook.Instead,IsawAbdullah,Salman,Sanjay,andFaridstandingbesideSalman’scar.They’dstoppedinawideparkingbay,surfacedwithgravelstones,thatwasemptybutforthem.
“Areyouallright,Johnny?”Iasked.“Canyoutakeitfromhere?”
“Sure,Lin,”hereplied.“Thetruckisjustthere,aheadofus,yousee?Wecandoit.”
“Okay,I’llpeeloffhere,man.Letmeknowhowitallgoes.I’llseeyoutomorrow.And,hey,seeifyoucanfindmeoneofthosewantedposters,brother!”
“Noproblem,”helaughed,asIwalkedaway.
IcrossedtheroadtojoinSalman,Abdullah,andtheothers.
They’dbeeneatingtake-awayfoodboughtatoneoftheNarimancaravansparkedneartheseawall.AsIgreetedthem,Faridswepttherubbleofcontainersandpapertowelsfromtheroofofthecarontothegravelparkspace.Ifeltthewinceofguiltthatlitter-consciouswesternersinvariablyexperience,andremindedmyselfthatthemessontheroadwouldbecollectedbyragpickerswhodependedonthelitterfortheirlivelihood.
“Whatthefuckwereyoudoinginthatshow?”Sanjayaskedmewhenthegreetingsweremadeandreceived.
“It’salongstory,”Igrinned.
“That’sadamnscaryGanpattiyougotthere,”hesaid.“Ineversawanythinglikeit.Itlookedsoreal.Itwaslikeitwasmoving.Igotquiteareligiousfeeling.Itellyou,man,I’mgoingtopayabahinchudhtolightsomeincensewhenIgethome.”
“Comeon,Lin,”Salmanprodded.“What’sitallabout,yaar?”
“Well,”Igroaned,knowingthatnoexplanationwouldseemsensible.“Wehadtosmuggleabearoutoftheslum,andgethimuptothisspot,righthere,becausethecopshadawarrantoutonhimandwantedtoarresthim.”
“Smuggleawhat?”Faridaskedpolitely.
“Abear.”
“What…kindofabear?”
“Adancingbear,ofcourse,”Isaidstiffly.
“Youknow,Lin,”Sanjaypronounced,grimacinghappilyashepickedhisteethcleanwithamatch,“youdosomeveryweirdshit.”
“Areyoutalkingaboutmybear?”Abdullahasked,suddenlyinterested.
“Yes,fuckyou.It’sreallyallyourfault,ifyouwanttogobackfarenough.”
“Whydoyousayitwasyourbear?”Salmanwantedtoknow.
“BecauseIarrangedthatbear,”Abdullahreplied.“IsenthimtoLinbrother,alongtimeago.”
“Why?”
“Well,itwasallaboutthehugging,”Abdullahbegan,laughing.
“Don’tstart,”Isaidthroughpressedlips,warninghimoffthesubjectwithmyeyes.
“What_isallthiswithfuckin’bears?”Sanjayasked.“Arewestilltalkingaboutbears?”
“Oh,shit!”Salmancutin,lookingoverSanjay’sshoulder.
“Faisalisinabighurry.Andhe’sgotNazeerwithhim.Thislooksliketrouble.”AnotherAmbassadorgravelledtoastopnearus.Asecondcarfollowed,onlytwosecondsbehindit.FaisalandAmirleaptfromthefirstcar.NazeerandAndrewrushedforwardfromthesecond.
IsawthatanothermangotoutofFaisal’scarandwaitedthere,watchingtheapproachroad.IrecognisedthefinefeaturesofmyfriendMahmoudMelbaaf.Onemoreman,aheavy-setgangsternamedRaj,waitedwiththeboyTariqinthesecondcar.
“They’rehere!”Faisalannouncedbreathlesslywhenhejoinedus.
“They’resupposedtocometomorrow,Iknow,butthey’realreadyhere.TheyjustjoinedupwithChuhaandhisguys.”
“Already?Howmany?”Salmanasked.
“Justthem,”Faisalreplied.“Ifwemovenow,wegetallofthem.
TherestofthegangisataweddinginThana.It’slikeasignfromheavenorsomething.It’sthebestchancewe’lleverhave.
Butwe’vegottobedamnquick!”
“Ican’tbelieveit,”Salmanmuttered,asiftohimself.
Mystomachdroppedandthensethard.Iknewexactlywhattheyweretalkingabout,andwhatitmeantforus.There’dbeenreportsandrumoursfordaysthatChuhaandhisgangwithintheWalidlallacouncilhadmadecontactwiththeSapnasurvivorandtwoofhisfamilymembers,abrotherandabrother-in-law.Theywereplanningastrikeagainstourgroup.Theborderwarfornewgangterritoryhadflared,pittingChuha’smafiacouncilagainstours,andChuhawashungry.
TheSapna-Iranconnection,allsurvivorsfromAbdulGhani’streacherousattemptedcoup,hadlearnedofthehostilitybetweenthecouncils,andhadappearedatjusttherightmomenttocapitaliseonChuha’sgreedandambition.They’dpromisedtobringweapons-newguns-andlucrativecontactsinthePakistaniherointrade.Theywererenegades:theSapnakillerswereworkingwithoutAbdulGhani,andtheIranianshadnoofficialsupportfromtheSavak.Itwashatredthathadbroughtthemtogether.
Theywantedrevengeforthedeathsoftheirfriends,andtheirhatehadcombinedwithChuha’stoputmurderintheirminds.
Thesituationhadbeensotense,forsolong,thatSalmanhadinfiltratedtheChuhagangwithhisownman,LittleTony,agangsterfromGoawhowasunknowninBombay.He’dprovidedinformationfromtheinside.TheywerehisreportsthathadalertedSalmantotheSapna-Iranconnectionandtheimminentattack.WithFaisal’sconfirmationoftheirarrivalatChuha’shouse,weallknewtherewasonlyoneoptionSalmanwouldconsider.Fight.Makewar.PutanendtotheSapnakillersandtheIranianspies,onceandforall.FinishChuha.
Absorbhisterritory.Seizehisoperations.
“Fuck,man!Howluckycanweget?”Sanjaywhooped,hiseyesglitteringinthegrey-whitestreetlight.
“Areyousure?”Salmanasked,fixinghisfriendAmir,anolderman,withhissternestfrown.
“I’msure,Salman,”Amirdrawled,runninghishandovertheshort,greyhaironhisblunthead.Hetwirledtheendsofhisthickmoustachewiththesamehandashespoke.“Isawthemmyself.Abdullah’sguys,fromIran,theycamehalfanhourago.
TheSapnafucks,youknow,they’vebeenthereallday.Theycameinthemorning.LittleTony,hetoldusassoonashecould.
We’vebeenwatchingthemfortwohoursatChuha’splace.Thelasttimehetalkedtome,LittleTonysaidtheywereallgettingtogether-Chuhaandhisclosestguys,theSapnas,andtheguysfromIran.TheywerewaitingfortheIranguystogethereandthentheywanttohitus.Soon.Maybetomorrownight.Thedayaftertomorrow,atthelatest.Chuhasentwordforalotmoreguys.They’recomingfromDelhiandCalcutta.They’reworkingoutsomekindofaplanwheretheyhitusatabouttenplacesatonce,like,tostopusfromcomingbackatthem.ItoldTonytogobackandtoletusknowwhentheIranguysgotthere.Wewerewatchingtheplace,likeusual.Thenwesawthemwalkin,adayearlylike,butwewereprettysure.Notlongafter,LittleTonycameoutandlitacigarette.Thatwasthesignal.They’retheones-theoneswhoareafterAbdullah.Nowthey’reallintheretogether,andwe’reonlytwominutesaway.Iknowit’searly,butwehavetogo.Wehavetodoitnow,Salman,inthenextfiveminutes.”
“Howmany,alltogether?”Salmandemanded.
“Chuhaandhisbuddies,”Amiransweredinhislazydrawl.Ithinktheslow,softlyslurringstyleofthemangaveeveryonetherenewheart:hewasn’t,ordidn’tseemtobe,anywherenearasnervousastherestofus.“Thatmakessix.Oneofthem,Manu,isagoodman.Youknowhim.HeputtheHarshanbrothersdown,allthreeofthem,onhisown.HiscousinBichchuisalsoagoodfighter-theydon’tcallhimtheScorpionfornothing.Therestofthem,includingChuha,thatmadachudh,arenotmuch.Thenthere’stheSapnas.Thatmakesthreemore.AndfromIran,twomore.That’seleven.Maybeoneortwomore,atthemost.Husseiniswatchingtheplace.He’lltellusifanymorearrived.”
“Eleven,”Salmanmurmured,avoidingtheeyesofthemenwhileheconsideredthesituation.“Andweare…eleven-twelve,countingLittleTony.Butwehavetolosetwo,onthestreetoutsideChuha’shouse-oneoneachside,toslowupthecopsiftheycomescreamingonuswhilewe’reinside.I’llmakeacallbeforewegoin,tokeepthecopsaway,butweneedtobesure.
Chuhamighthavemoreguyscoming,aswell,soweneedatleasttwoontheoutside.Idon’tmindfightingmywayinthere,butIdon’twanttofightmywayoutagainifIdon’thaveto.Husseinisalreadythere.Faisal,you’rethenumbertwoonthestreetoutside,okay?Nobodygoesin,orout,butus.”
“Noproblem,”theyoungfighteragreed.
“Checktheguns,now,withRaj.Getthemready.”
“I’monit,”hesaid,collectinggunsfromafewofthemenandthenjoggingovertothecars,whereRajandMahmoudwaited.
“AndtwowillhavetogobacktoKhader’shousewithTariq,”
Salmancontinued.
“ItwasNazeer’sideatobringhimwithus,”Andrewputin.“Hedidn’twanttoleavehimbehindtherewhenFaisalandAmircametogiveusthenews.Itoldhimnottobringthekid,butyouknowhowNazeeriswhenhegetsanideainhishead.”
“NazeercantaketheboytoSobhanMahmoud’shouseinVersova,andwatchoverhim,”Salmandeclared.“Andyou’llgowithhim.”
“Oh,comeon,man!”Andrewcomplained.“WhydoIhavetodothat?
WhydoIhavetomissalltheaction?”
“IneedtwomentowatchoveroldSobhanandtheboy.Especiallytheboy-Nazeerwasrightnottoleavehim.Tariqisatarget.Aslongashe’salive,thecouncilisstillKhader’scouncil.Iftheykillhim,Chuhawilltakealotofpowerfromit.ThesamegoesforoldSobhan.Taketheboyoutofthecity,andkeephimandSobhanMahmoudsafe.”
“ButwhydoIhavetomisstheaction,man?Whydoesithavetobeme?Sendsomeoneelse,Salman.LetmegowithyoutoChuha’s.”
“Areyougoingtoarguewithme?”Salmansaid,hislipcurlingwithanger.
“No,man,”Andrewsnarledpetulantly.“I’lldoit.I’lltakethekid.”
“Thatleaveseightofus,”Salmanconcluded.“Sanjayandme,AbdullahandAmir,RajandlittleTony,FaridandMahmoud-”
“Nine,”Icutin.“There’snineofus.”
“Youshouldtakeoff,Lin,”Salmansaidquietly,raisinghiseyestomeetmine.“IwasjustnowgoingtoaskyoutotakeacabandpassthewordtoRajubhai,andtheboysatyourpassportshop.”
“I’mnotleavingAbdullah,”Isaidflatly.
“MaybeyoucangobackwithNazeer,”Amir,whowasAndrew’sclosefriend,suggested.
“IleftAbdullahonce,”Ideclared.“I’mnotdoingitagain.It’slikefateorsomething.I’vegotafeeling,Salman.I’vegotafeelingnottoleaveAbdullah.I’minit.I’mnotleavingMahmoudMelbaaf,either.I’mwiththem.I’mwithyou.”
Salmanheldthestare,frowningpensively.Itoccurredtome,stupidly,thathisslightlycrookedface-oneeyealittlelowerthantheother,hisnosebentfromabadbreak,hismouthscarredinthecorner-foundahandsomesymmetryonlythen,whentheburdenofhisthoughtscreasedhisfeaturesintoadeterminedfrown.
“Okay.”heagreed,atlast.
“Whatthefuck!”Andrewexploded.“Hegetstogo,butIdothebaby-sittingjob?”
“Settledown,Andrew,”Faridsaidsoothingly.
“No,fuckhim!I’msickofthisfuckin’gora,man.SoKhaderlikedhim,sohewenttoAfghanistan,sofuckin’what?Khader’sdead,yaar.Khader’sdayisgone.”
“Relax,man,”Amirputin.
“Whatrelax?FuckKhader,andfuckhisgora,too!”
“Youshouldwatchyourmouth,”Imutteredthroughclenchedteeth.
“Ishould?”heasked,thrustinghisfaceforwardpugnaciously.
“Well,fuckyoursister!How’smymouthnow?Youlikethat?”
“Idon’thaveasister,”IsaidevenlyinHindi.Afewmenlaughed.
“Well,maybeI’llgofuckyourmother,”hesnarled,“andmakeyouanewsister!”
“That’sgoodenough,”Igrowled,shapinguptofighthim.“Get’emup!Getyourfuckin’handsup!Let’sgo!”
Itwould’vebeenmessy.Iwasn’tagoodfighter,butIknewthemoves.Icouldhithard.AndifIgotintorealtroubleinthoseyears,Iwasn’tafraidtoputthewetendofaknifeintoanotherman’sbody.Andrewwascapa-ble.Withaguninhishand,hewasdeadly.AsAmirmovedaroundtosupporthim,directlybehindhisrightshoulder,Abdullahtookupasimilarpositionbesideme.Afightwouldbecomeabrawl.Weallknewit.ButtheyoungGoandidn’traisehishands,andasonesecondbecamefive,andten,andfifteen,itseemedthathewasn’taswillingwithhisfistsashewaswithhismouth.
Nazeerbrokethestand-off.Pushingbetweenus,heseizedAndrewbythewristandascruffofshirtsleeve.Iknewthatgripwell.
IknewthatAndrewhadtokilltheburlyAfghanifhewantedtobreakit.Nazeerpausedonlylongenoughtogivemeabewilderinglycrypticlook,partcensureandpartpride,partangerandpartred-eyedaffection,beforeheshovedtheyoungGoanbackwardsthroughthecircleofmen.Atthecar,hepushedAndrewintothedriver’sseatandthenclimbedintothebackwithTariq.Andrewstartedthecarandspedaway,spittinggravelanddustashewheeledaroundandheadedbacktowardMarineDrive.AsthecarsweptpastmeIsawTariq’sfaceatthewindow.Itwaspale,withonlytheeyes,likewildpawprintsinsnow,betrayinganyhintofthemindorthemoodwithin.
“_Mai_jata_hu,”Irepeatedwhenthecarhadpassed.I’mgoing.
Everyonelaughed.Iwasn’tsureifitwasatthevehemenceofmytoneorthebluntsimplicityoftheHindiphrase.
“Ithinkwegotthat,Lin,”Salmansaid.“Ithinkthat’sveryclear,na?Okay,I’llputyouwithAbdullah,outtheback.
There’salanebehindChuha’shouse-Abdullah,youknowit.Ithastwofeedsfromotherlanes,oneintothemainstreet,andonearoundthecornertootherhousesintheblock.AtthebackofChuha’shousethere’sayard.I’veseenit.Therearetwowindows,bothwithheavybars,andonlyonedoortothehouse.
It’sdowntwosteps.Youtwoholdthatplace.Nobodygoesinwhenwestart.Ifwedoright,someofthemwilltrytomakearunforitoutthere.Don’tletthemgetpastyou.Stopthemrightthere,intheyard.Therestofuswillgointhroughthefront.Whatabouttheguns,Faisal?”
“Seven,”heanswered.“Twoshortshotgun,twoautomatic,threerevolver.”
“Givemeoneoftheautomatics,”Salmanordered.“Abdullah,youtaketheotherone.You’llhavetoshareit,Lin.Theshotgunsarenogoodinside-it’sgonnagetverycloseinthere,andwewanttoberealsurewhatwe’reshootingat.Iwantthemonthestreetoutside,formaximumcoverageifweneedit.Faisal,youtaketheshotguns,andgiveonetoHussein.Whenwe’refinished,we’llgooutthebackway,pastAbdullahandLin.Wewon’tgooutthefront,soputholesinanythingthattriestogoinoroutoncewe’reinthere.ThethreeothergunsareforFarid,Amir,andMahmoud.Raj,you’llhavetosharewithus.Okay?”
Themennodded,andwaggedtheirheadsinagreement.
“Listen,ifwewait,wecangetthirtymoremenandthirtygunstogoinwithus.Youknowthat.Butwemightmissthem.Asitis,we’vealreadytalkedfortenminutestoolong.Ifwehitthemnow,quickandhard,beforetheyknowit,wecantakethemout,andnoneofthemwillgetaway.Iwanttofinishthem,andfinishthisbusiness,rightnow,tonight.ButIwanttoleaveituptoyou.Idon’twanttomakeyougoinifyoudon’tfeelready.Doyouwanttowaitformoremen,orgonow?”
Onebyonethemenspoke,quickly,mostofthemusingtheoneword,Abi,meaningnow.Salmannodded,thenclosedhiseyesandmutteredaprayerinArabic.Whenhelookedupagain,hewascommitted,fullycommittedforthefirsttime.Hiseyeswereblazingwithhatredandthefearsomekillingragehe’dkeptatbay.
“_Saatch…_aur_himmat,”hesaid,lookingeachmanintheeye.
_Truth…_and_courage.
“Saatchaurhimmat,”theyreplied.
Withoutanotherword,themenclaimedtheirguns,climbedintothetwocars,anddrovethefewshortminutestoChuha’shomeonfashionableSardarPatelRoad.BeforeIcouldordermythoughtsandevenconsider,clearly,whatIwasdoing,IfoundmyselfcreepingalonganarrowlanewithAbdullahinadarknessdeepenoughformetofeelthewideningofmystrainingeyes.Thenweclimbedoverasheerwoodenfenceanddroppeddownintothebackyardoftheenemy’shouse.
Westoodtogetherinthedarkforafewmoments,checkingtheluminousdialsonourwatches,andlisteninghardasweletoureyesadjust.Abdullahwhisperedbesideme,andIalmostjumpedatthesound.
“Nothing,”hebreathed,hisvoiceliketherustleofawoollenblanket.“There’sno-onehere,no-onenear.”
“Looksokay,”Ianswered,awarethatmywhisperingvoicewasraspywithhard-breathingfear.Therewerenolightsatthewindowsorbehindthebluedoorattherearofthehouse.
“Well,Ikeptmypromise,”Abdullahwhisperedmysteriously.“What?”
“Youmademepromisetotakeyouwithme,whenIkillChuha.
Remember?”
“Yeah,”Ianswered,myheartbeatingfasterthanahealthyheartshould.“Yougottabecareful,Iguess.”
“Iwillbecareful,Linbrother.”
“No-Imean,yougottabecarefulwhatyouwishforinlife,na?”
“Iwilltrytoopenthatdoor,”Abdullahbreathed,closetomyear.“Ifitwillopen,Iwillgoinside.”
“What?”
“Youwaithere,andstaynearthedoor.”
“What?”
“Youwaithere,and-”
“We’rebothsupposedtostayhere!”Ihissed.
“Iknow,”hereplied,creepingwithleopardstealthtowardthedoor.
Inmyclumsierway,lookingmorelikeacatwakingstifflyfromalongsleep,Icreptafterhim.AsIreachedthetwowidestepsleadingdowntothebluedoor,Isawhimopenitandslipinsidethehouselikeashadowthrownbyaswoopingbird.Hepushedthedoorshutsoundlesslybehindhim.
Alone,inthedark,Itookmyknifefromthesheathinthesmallofmyback,andenclosedthehiltinmyrightfist,dagger-pointdown.Staringoutintothedarkness,Iputallofmyfocusonthebeatingofmyheart,tryingbyforceofwilltoslowitstoorapidpace.Itworked,afteratime.Ifeltthecountreducing,calmingmefurtherinturnasthemeditativeloopclosedaroundasingle,stillthought.ThatthoughtwasofKhaderbhai,andtheformulahe’dmademerepeatsooften:Thewrongthing,fortherightreasons.AndIknew,asIrepeatedthewordsinthefearingdark,thatthefightwithChuha,thewar,thestruggleforpower,wasalwaysthesame,everywhere,anditwasalwayswrong.
Salmanandtheothers,nolessthanChuhaandtheSapnakillersandalltherestofthem,werepretendingthattheirlittlekingdomsmadethemkings;thattheirpowerstrugglesmadethempowerful.Andtheydidn’t.Theycouldn’t.Isawthatthensoclearlythatitwaslikeunderstandingamathematicaltheoremforthefirsttime.Theonlykingdomthatmakesanymanakingisthekingdomofhisownsoul.Theonlypowerthathasanyrealmeaningisthepowertobettertheworld.AndonlymenlikeQasimAliHusseinandJohnnyCigarweresuchkingsandhadsuchpower.
Unnervedandafraid,IpressedmyeartothedoorandstrainedtohearanythingofAbdullahortheotherswithin.Thefearthattwistedinmewasn’tthefearofdeath.Iwasn’tafraidtodie.IwasafraidofbeingsoinjuredorwoundedthatIcouldn’twalk,orcouldn’tseeor,forsomeotherreason,couldn’trunfromcapture.AboveallthingsIwasafraidofthat-ofbeingcapturedandcagedagain.AsIpressedmyeartothedoor,Iprayedthatnowoundwouldweakenme.Letithappenhere,Iprayed.Letmegetthroughthis,orletmediehere…
Idon’tknowwheretheycamefrom.IfeltthehandsonmebeforeIheardasinglesound.Twomenslammedmeroundandhardupagainstthedoor.Instinctively,Istruckoutwithmyrighthand.
“Chaku!Chaku!”oneofthemenshouted.Knife!Knife!
Icouldn’tswingtheknifeupquicklyenoughtostopthem.Onemanpinnedmetothedoorbythethroat.Hewasabigman,andverystrong.Theothermanusedtwohands,tryingtoforcemetodroptheknife.Hewasn’tquitesostrong,andhecouldn’tmakemedroptheweapon.Thenathirdmanhoppeddownthestepsfromthedarkness,andwiththoseextrahandstheytwistedmygripandforcedmetodroptheknife.
“Gorakaunhai?”thenewmanasked.Who’sthewhiteguy?
“Bahinchudh!Malumnahi,”thestrongmanreplied.Thesisterfucker!Idon’tknow
Hestaredatme,obviouslybewilderedtohavestumbledonaforeignerwhowaslisteningatthedoorandarmedwithaknife.
“Kaunhaitum?”heaskedinanalmostfriendlytone.Whoareyou?
Ididn’treply.AllIcouldthinkwasthatIhadtowarnAbdullahsomehow.Icouldn’tunderstandhowthey’dreachedthatspotwithoutmakingasound.Thebackgatemust’veswungsilentlyonitshinges.Theirshoesorchappalsmust’vebeensoledwithsoftrubber.Whatever.I’dletthemsneakuponme,andIhadtowarnAbdullah.
IsuddenlystruggledasifIwastryingtobreakfree.Thefeinthaditseffect.Themenallshoutedatme,andthreepairsofhandsslammedmeagainstthebluedoor.Oneofthesmallermenscrambledtomyleftside,pinningmyleftarmtothedoor.Theothershortmanheldmyrightarm.Inthewrestle,Imanagedtokickmybootshardagainstthedoorthreetimes.Abdullahmust’veheardit,Ithought.It’sokay…I’vewarnedhim…Hemustknowsomething’swrong…
“Kaunhaitum?”thebigmanaskedagain.Hetookonehandfrommythroat,andbuncheditintoafistpoisedmenacinglyclosetomyhead,justbelowthelineofsightofmyeyes.Whoareyou?
AgainIrefusedtoanswer,staringathim.Theirhands,ashardasshackles,heldmetothedoor.
Heslammedhisfistintomyface.Imanagedtomovemyhead,justslightly,butIfelttheblowonmyjawandcheek.Hehadringsonhisfingers,orhewasusingaknuckleduster.Icouldn’tseeit,butIcouldfeelthehardmetalchippingbone.
“Whatyouaredoinghere?”heaskedinEnglish.“Whoyouare?”
Ikeptsilent,andhestruckmeagain,thefistrammingintomyfacethreetimes._Iknowthis…Ithought._Iknowthis…Iwasbackinprison,inAustralia,inthepunishmentunit-thefistsandbootsandbatons…Iknowthis…
Hepaused,waitingformetospeak.Thetwosmallermengrinnedathim,thenatme.Aur,oneofthemsaid.More.Hithimagain.
Thebigmandrewbackandpunchedatmybody.Theywereslow,deliberate,professionalpunches.Ifeltthewindemptyfrommybody,anditwasasifmylifeitselfwasdrainingfromme.Hemovedupthebodytomychestandthroatandface.Ifeltmyselfwadingintothatblackwaterwherebeatenboxersstaggerandfall.Iwasdone.Iwasfinished.
Iwasn’tangrywiththem.I’dfuckedup.I’dletthemsneakuponme-walkuponme,probably.I’dgonetheretofight,andIshould’vebeenonguard.Itwasmyfault.Somehow,I’dmissedthem,andmessedup,anditwasmyownfault.AllIwantedtodowaswarnAbdullah.Ikickedbackfeeblyatthedoor,hopinghewouldhearitandgetaway,getaway,getaway…
Ifellthroughperfectdarkness,andtheweightofalltheworldfellwithme.WhenIhitthefloorIheardshouts,andIrealisedthatAbdullahhadwrenchedopenthedoor,lettingusfallintohim.Inthedark,bloody-eyedandswollen,Iheardagunfiringtwice,andsawtheflashes.Thenlightfilledtheworld,andIblinkedintotheglareasanotherdooropenedsomewhere,andIsawmenrushinginonus.Thegunfiredagaintwice,threetimes,andIrolledoutfromunderthebigmantoseemyknife,closetomyeyes,shiningonthegroundneartheopenbluedoor.
Igrabbedfortheknifejustasoneofthesmallermentriedtocrawlovermeandoutthedoor.Withoutthinking,Isweptitbackwardsandintohiship.Hescreamed,andIscrambleduptohim,slashingtheknifeacrosshisfaceneartheeyes.
It’samazinghowalittleoftheotherguy’sblood,oralotofit,ifyoucanmanageit,putspowerinyourarmsandpainkillingadrenalineinyourachingwounds.Wildwithrage,IswungroundtoseeAbdullahlockedinastrugglewithtwomen.Therewerebodiesontheflooroftheroom.Icouldn’ttellhowmany.
Gunshotscrackedanddrummedfromallaroundandaboveusintheotherroomsofthebuilding.Theyseemedtocomefromseveralplacesinthehouseatthesametime.Therewereshoutsandscreams.Icouldsmellshitandpissandbloodintheroom.
Someonehadagutwound.Ihopedthatitwasn’tme.Mylefthandslappedatmybellyandsearched,friskingmyselfforwounds.
Abdullahwaspunchingitoutwiththetwomen.Theywerewrestling,gouging,biting.Ibegantocrawltowardthem,butIfeltahandonmylegpullingmebackward.Itwasastronghand.
Averystronghand.Itwasthebigguy.
He’dbeenshot,Iwassure,butIcouldn’tseeanybloodonhisshirtorhispants.HedraggedmeinasifIwasaturtlecaughtinanet.WhenIreachedhim,Iraisedtheknifetostabhim,buthebeatmetoit.Heslammedhisfistintotherightsideofmygroin.He’dmissedthekillingblow,adirecthit,butitwasstillenoughtomakemecurlandrolloverinagonisingpain.Ifelthimlurchpastme,actuallyusingmybodyforleverageashepushedhimselftohisfeet.Irolledback,retchingbile,toseehimstandandtakeasteptowardAbdullah.
Icouldn’tletithappen.Toomanytimes,myhearthadwitheredonthethoughtofAbdullah’sdeath:alone,inacircleofguns.Ithrashedagainstthepain,andinascrabbleofbloody,slippingmovementsIsprangupandplungedmyknifeintothebigguy’sback.Itwashigh,justunderthescapula.Ifelttheboneshiverundertheblade,divertingthepointsidewaystowardtheshoulder.Hewasstrong.Hetooktwomoresteps,draggingmybodywithhimonthehookoftheknife,beforehecrumpledandfell.Ifellontopofhim,lookinguptoseeAbdullah.Hehadhisfingersinaman’seyes.Theman’sheadwasbentbackwardsagainstAbdullah’sknee.Theman’sjawgaveway,andhisneckcrackedlikeapieceofkindling.
Handspulledatme,draggingmetowardthebackdoor.Istruckout,butstrong,gentlehandstwistedtheknifefrommyfingers.
ThenIheardthevoice,MahmoudMelbaaf’svoice,andIknewweweresafe.
“Comeon,Lin,”theIraniansaid,quicklyandtooquietly,itseemed,forthebloodyviolencethathadjustroaredaroundus.
“Ineedagun,”Imumbled.
“No,Lin.Itisover.”
“Abdullah?”Iasked,asMahmouddraggedmeintotheyard.
“He’sworking,”hereplied.Iheardthescreamsinsidethehouseending,onebyone,likebirdsfallingsilentasnightmovesacrossthestillnessofalake.“Canyoustand?Canyouwalk?Wemustleavenow!”
“Fuck,yes!Icanmakeit.”
Aswereachedthebackgate,acolumnofourmenrushedpastus.
FaisalandHusseincarriedonemanbetweenthem.FaridandLittleTonycarriedanother.Sanjayhadaman’sbodyonhisrightshoulder.Hewassobbingasheclutchedthebodytohischestandshoulder.
“WelostSalman,”Mahmoudannounced,followingmygazeasweletthemenrushpastus.“AndRaj,also.Amirisbad-alive,buthurtbad.”
Salman.ThelastvoiceofreasonintheKhadercouncil.ThelastKhaderman.IhurrieddownthelanetothewaitingcarsandIfeltthelifedrainingfromme,justasithadwhenthebigmanwashittingmeatthebluedoor.Itwasover.TheoldmafiacouncilwasgonewithSalman.Everythinghadchanged.Ilookedattheothersinmycar:Mahmoud,Farid,andthewoundedAmir.
They’dwontheirwar.TheSapnakillersweregoneatlast.Achapter,abookoflifeanddeaththathadopenedwithSapna’sname,wasclosedforever.Khaderwasavenged.AbdulGhani’smutinousbetrayalwasfinallydefeated.AndtheIranians,Abdullah’senemies,werenomore:assilentasthatbloody,unscreaminghousewhereAbdullahwas…working.AndChuha’sgangwascrushed.Theborderwarwasover.Itwasover.Thewheelhadturnedthroughonefullrevolution,andnothingwouldeverbethesame.They’dwon,buttheywereallcrying.Allofthem.
Crying.
Iletmyheadfallbackontheseatofthecar.Night,thattunneloflightsjoiningpromisetoprayer,flewwithusatthewindows.Slowly,desolately,thefistofwhatwe’ddoneunclenchedtheclawedpalmofwhatwe’dbecome.Angersoftenedintosorrow,asitalwaysdoes,asitalwaysmust.Andnopartofwhatwe’dwanted,justanhour’slifebefore,wasasrichinhopeormeaningasasingleteardrop’sfall.
“What?”Mahmoudasked,hisfaceclosetomine.“Whatdidyousay?”“Ihopethatbeargotaway,”Imumbledthroughbroken,bleedinglipsasthestrickenspiritbegantorisefrommywoundedbody,andsleep,likefoginmorningforests,movedthroughmysorrowingmind.“Ihopethatbeargotaway.”
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Sunlightshatteredonthewater,sheddingstreaksincrystalbrilliantsliversacrosswavesrollingswollenonthebroadmeniscusofthebay.Birdsoffireintheapproachingsunsetwheeledandturnedasoneintheirflocks,likebannersofwavingsilk.Fromalow-walledcourtyardonthewhitemarbleislandofHajiAliMosque,Iwatchedpilgrimsandpiouslocalresidentswendandweave,leavingtheshrinefortheshorealongtheflatstonepath.Theincomingtidewouldsubmergethepath,theyknew,andthenonlyboatscouldbringthemhome.Thosewho’dsorrowedorrepented,likeothersonpreviousdays,hadcastgarlandsofflowersupontheshallower,recedingsea.Ridingthereturningtide,thoseorange-redandfadedgrey-whiteflowersfloatedback,garlandingthepathitselfwiththelove,loss,andlongingthatwasprayeduponthewaterbyathousandbrokenheartseachwavedeterminedday.
Andwe,thatbandofbrothers,hadcometotheshrinetopayourlastrespects,astheysay,andprayforthesoulofourfriendSalmanMustaan.Itwasthefirsttimesincethenighthe’dbeenkilledthatwe’dgatheredasagroup.ForweeksafterthebattlewithChuhaandhisgangwe’dseparated,tohideandtohealourwounds.There’dbeenanoutcryinthepress,ofcourse.ThewordscarnageandmassacrewerespreadacrossthepagesoftheBombaydailieslikebutteronaprisonguard’ssugaredbun.Callshadrungoutforjustice,undefined,andpunishment,unremitting.AndtherewasnodoubtthattheBombaypolicecould’vemadearrests.
Theycertainlyknewwhichgangwasresponsibleforthelittleheapsofbodiesthey’dfoundinChuha’shouse.Buttherewerefourgoodreasonsnottoact:reasonsthatweremorecompelling,forthecity’scops,thantheunrighteousindignationofthepress.
First,therewasno-onefrominsidethehouse,onthestreetsoutside,oranywhereelseinBombaywhowaswillingtotestifyagainstus,evenofftherecord.Second,thebattlehadputanendtotheSapnakillers,whichwassomethingthecopswould’vebeenverygladtotakecareofpersonally.Third,theWalidlallagangunderChuha’sleadershiphadkilledapoliceman,monthsbefore,whenhe’dstumbledintooneoftheirmajordrugdealsnearFloraFountain.
Thecasehadremainedunsolved,officially,becausethecopshadnothingtheycouldtakeintocourt.Butthey’dknown,almostfromthedayithadhappened,thatChuha’smenhadspilledtheblood.
ThebloodshedinChuha’shousewasveryclosetowhatthecopsthemselveshadwantedtodototheRatandhismen-andwould’veaccomplished,soonerorlater,ifSalmanhadn’tbeatenthemtoit.Andfourth,thepaymentofacroreofrupees,appropriatedfromChuha’soperationsandappliedinliberalsmearstoasmallmultitudeofforensicpalms,hadputahelplessshruginalltherightconstabularyshoulders.
Privately,thecopstoldSanjay,whowasthenewleaderoftheKhaderKhancouncil,thattheclockwastickingonhim,andhe’dusedupallhischancesonthatonethrowofthedice.Theywantedpeace-andcontinuedprosperity,ofcourse-and,ifhedidn’tpullhismenintoline,theywoulddoitforhim.Andbytheway,theytoldhimafteracceptinghisten-million-rupeebribe,andjustbeforetheythrewhimbackontothestreet,thatguyAbdullah,inyouroutfit,wedon’twanttoseehimagain.
Ever.Hewasdeadonce,inBombay.He’llbedeadagain,forgoodthistime,ifweseehim…
Onebyone,afterweeksoflyinglow,we’dmadeourwaybackintothecityandbacktothejobswe’ddoneintheSanjaygang,asithadbecomeknown.IreturnedfromhidinginGoaandtookupmypositioninthepassportoperationwithVilluandKrishna.WhenthecallfinallywentoutforustogatheratHajiAli,IrodetotheshrineonmyEnfieldbike,andwalkedwithAbdullahandMahmoudMelbaafacrosstheripplingwaveletsofthebay.
Mahmoudledtheprayers,kneelingatthefrontofourgroup.Thelittlebalcony,oneofmanysurroundingtheislandmosque,wasoursalone.FacingtowardMecca,andwiththebreezefillingandthenfallingfromhiswhiteshirt,Mahmoudspokeforallthemenwhokneltorstoodbehindhim:
PraisebetoGod,LordoftheUniverse,TheCompassionate,theMerciful,SovereignoftheDayofJudgement!Youaloneweworship,andtoYoualoneweturnforhelp.
Guideustothestraightpath…
Farid,Abdullah,Amir,Faisal,andNazeer-theMuslimcoreofthecouncil-kneltbehindMahmoud.SanjaywasaHindu.AndrewwasaChristian.Theykneltbesidemeandbehindtheprayinggroup.Istoodwithmyheadbowedandmyhandsclaspedinfrontofme.IknewthewordsoftheprayersandIknewthesimplestanding,kneeling,andbowingobservations.Icould’vejoinedin.IknewthatMahmoudandtheotherswould’vebeendelightedifIhad.ButIcouldn’tbringmyselftokneelwiththem.Theseparationthattheyfoundsoeasyandinstinctual-thisismycriminallife,overhere,andthat’smyreligiouslife,overthere-wasimpossibleforme.IdidspeaktoSalman,whisperingmyhopethathe’dfoundpeace,whereverhewas.YetIwastooself-consciouslyawareofthedarknessinmyhearttooffermorethanthattinyprayer.SoIstoodinsilence,feelinglikeanimpostor,aspyonthatislandofdevotions,astheamethysteveningblessedthebalconyofprayingmenwithgold-and-lilaclight.AndthewordsofMahmoud’sprayerseemedaperfectfitformywitheredhonourandmythinningpride:thosewhohaveincurredyourwrath…thosewhohavegoneastray…
Attheendofprayerswehuggedoneanother,accordingtocustom,andmadeourwaybackalongthepathtowardtheshore.Mahmoudwasleadingtheway.We’dallprayed,inourownways,andwe’dallcriedforSalman,butwedidn’tlookthepartofdevoutvisitorstotheholyshrine.Weallworesunglasses.Weallworenewclothes.Everyone,exceptme,carriedayearormoreofsmuggler’swagesingoldchains,first-tierwatches,rings,andbracelets.Andweswaggered.Wewalkedthewalk:thelittledance-stepthatfighting-fitgangstersdowhenthey’rearmedanddangerous.Itwasabizarreprocession,andonesomenacingthatwehadtoworkhardtomaketheprofessionalbeggarsontheislandpathwaytakethesheavesofrupeenoteswe’dbroughtasalms.
Themenhadthreecarsparkedneartheseawall.ItwasalmostexactlywhereI’dstoodwithAbdullahonthenightImetKhaderbhai.Mybikewasparkedbeyondthem,andatthecarsIpausedtosaygoodbye.
“Comeandhaveamealwithus,Lin,”Sanjayoffered,puttingrealaffectionintheinvitation.
Iknewthemealwouldbefun,afterthemelancholyobservationsattheshrine,andthatitwouldincludeachoiceofdrugsandachoiceofhappy,silly,prettygirls.Iwasgratefulfortheoffer,butIrefused.
“Thanks,man,butI’mmeetingsomeone.”
“Arrey,bringheralong,yaar,”Sanjaysuggested.“It’sagirl,isn’tit?”
“Yeah.It’sagirl.But…wehavetotalk.I’llseeyouguyslater.”
AbdullahandNazeerwantedtowalkmetomybike.We’donlytakenafewstepswhenAndrewranupbehindusandcalledmetostop.
“Lin,”hesaidquickly,nervously,“whathappenedwithusinthecarparkandall.I…Ijustwanttosay…I’msorry,yaar.
I’vebeenwantingtomake-well-anapology,youknow?”
“It’sokay.”
“No-it’snotokay.”
Hepulledatmyarm,neartheelbow,leadingmeawayfromNazeerandjustoutofhishearing.Leaninginclosetome,hespokesoftlyandquickly.
“I’mnotsorryforwhatIsaidaboutKhaderbhai.Iknowhewasthebossandall,andIknowyou…youkindoflovedhim…”
“Yeah.Ikindadid.”
“Butstill,I’mnotsorryforwhatIsaidabouthim.Youknow,allhisholypreaching,itdidn’tstophimfromhandingoldMadjidovertoGhaniandhisSapnaguyswhenheneededsomeonetotakethefuckin’fall,andkeepthecopsoffhisback.Madjidwassupposedtobehisfriend,yaar.Butheletthemcuthimup,justtothrowthecopsoffthecase.”
“Well…”
“Andallthoserules,aboutthisandthatandwhat-all,youknow,theycametonothing-SanjayhasputmeinchargeofChuha’sgirls,andthevideos.AndFaisalandAmir,they’rerunningthegarad.We’regonnamakefuckin’croresoutofit.I’mgettingmyplaceonthecouncil,andsoarethey.So,Khaderbhai’sdayisover,justlikeIsaiditwas.”
IlookedbackintoAndrew’scamel-browneyes,andletoutadeepbreath.Dislikehadbeensimmeringsincethenightinthecarpark.Ihadn’tforgottenwhathe’dsaid,andhowclosewe’dcometofightingitout.Hislittlespeechhadmademeangrierstill.
Ifwehadn’tjustbeentoafuneralserviceforafriendwe’dbothliked,Iprobablywould’vehithimalready.
“Youknow,Andrew,”Imuttered,notsmiling,“Igottatellya,I’mnotgettin’muchcomfortfromthislittleapologyofyours.”
“That’snottheapology,Lin,”heexplained,frowninginpuzzlement.“Theapologyisforyourmother,andforwhatIsaidabouther.I’msorry,man.I’mreally,really,sorryforwhatIsaid.Itwasaveryshittythingtosay-aboutyourmother,oranybody’smother.Nobodyshouldsayshittythingslikethataboutaguy’smother.Youwould’vebeenwellwithinyourrights,yaar,totakeafuckin’shotatme.And…I’mdamngladyoudidn’t.
Mothersaresacred,yaar,andI’msureyourmotherisaveryfinelady.So,please,I’maskingyou,like-pleaseacceptmyapology.”
“It’sokay,”Isaid,puttingoutmyhand.Heseizedthehandinbothofhis,andshookitvigorously.
Abdullah,Nazeer,andIturnedawayandwalkedtothebike.
Abdullahwasunusuallyquiet.Thesilencehecarriedwithhimwasominousandunsettling.
“AreyougoingbacktoDelhitonight?”Iasked.
“Yes,”heanswered.“Atmidnight.”
“Youwantmetogototheairportwithyou?”
“No.Thankyou.Itisbetternot.Thereshouldbenopolicelookingatme.Ifyouarethere,theywilllookatus.ButmaybeIwillseeyouinDelhi.ThereisajobinSriLanka-youshoulddoitwithme.”
“Idon’tknow,man,”Idemurred,grinninginsurpriseathisearnestness.“There’sawaroninSriLanka.”
“Thereisnoman,andnoplace,withoutwar,”hereplied,anditstruckmethatitwasthemostprofoundthinghe’deversaidtome.“Theonlythingwecandoischooseaside,andfight.Thatistheonlychoiceweget-whowefightfor,whowefightagainst.Thatislife.”
“I…Ihopethere’smoretoitthanthat,brother.But,shit,maybeyou’reright.”
“Ithinkyoucandothiswithme,”hepressed,clearlytroubledbywhathewasaskingmetodo.“ThisisthelastworkforKhaderbhai.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“KhaderKhan,heaskedmetodothisjobforhim,whenthe…whatisit-thesign,Ithink,orthemessage-whenitcomesfromSriLanka.Now,themessage,ithascome.”
“I’msorry,brother,Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”Istatedsoftly,notwantingtomakeitharderforhim.“Justtakeiteasy,andexplainittome.Whatmessage?”
HespoketoNazeerquickly,inUrdu.Theoldermannoddedseveraltimesandthensaidsomethingaboutnames,ornotmentioningnames.Nazeerturnedhisheadtofaceme,andfavouredmewithawide,warmsmile.
“IntheSriLankawar,”Abdullahexplained,“thereisfighting-TamilTigersagainstSriLankaarmy.TigersareHindus.
Sinhalese,theyareBuddhist.Butinthemiddleofthem,therearetheothers-TamilMuslims-withnogunsandnoarmy.
Everybodykillthem,andnobodyfightforthem.Theyneedpassportsandmoney-goldmoney.Wegotohelpthem.”
“Khaderbhai,”Nazeeradded,“hemakethisplan.Onlythreemen.
Abdullah,andme,andonegora-you.Threemen.Wego.”
Iowedhim.Nazeerwouldnevermentionthatfact,Iknew,andhewouldn’tholditagainstmeifIdidn’tgowithhim.We’dbeenthroughtoomuchtogether.ButIdidowehimmylife.Itwouldbeveryhardtorefusehim.Andtherewassomethingelse-somethingwise,perhaps,andferventlygenerous-inthatrare,widesmilehe’dgivenme.Itseemedthathewasofferingmemorethanjustthechancetoworkwithhim,andworkoffmydebt.HeblamedhimselfforKhader’sdeath,butheknewthatIstillfeltguiltyandashamedthatIhadn’tbeentherewithhim,pretendingtobehisAmerican,whenKhaderhaddied.He’sgivingmeachance,Ithought,asIletmyeyesmovefromhistoAbdullah’sandbackagain.He’sgivingmeawaytoclosethebookonit.
“So,whenwouldyoubegoingonthistrip?Roughlyspeaking?”
“Soon,”Abdullahlaughed.“Afewmonths,nomorethanthat.IamgoingtoDelhi.Iwillsendsomeonetobringyou,whenthetimeiscoming.Two,threemonths,Linbrother.”
Iheardavoiceinmyhead-ornotavoice,really,butjustwordsinwhisperedechoeslikestoneshissingacrossthestillsurfaceofalake-Killer…He’sakiller…Don’tdoit…
Getaway…Getawaynow…Andthevoicewasright,ofcourse.
Deadright.AndIwishIcouldsaythatittookmemorethanthosefewheartbeatstomakeupmymindtojoinhim.
“Two,threemonths,”Ireplied,offeringmyhand.Heshookit,puttingbothofhishandsovermine.IlookedatNazeerandsmiledasIspokeintohiseyes.“We’lldoKhader’sjob.We’llfinishit.”
Nazeer’sjawlockedtight,bunchingthemusclesofhischeeksandexaggeratingthedownwardcurveofhismouth.Hefrownedathissandaledfeetasiftheyweredisobedientpuppies.Thenhesuddenlyhurledhimselfatme,andlockedhishandsbehindmeinapunishinghug.Itwastheviolent,wrestler’shugofamanwhosebodyhadneverlearnedtospeakthelanguageofhisheart-exceptwhenhewasdancing-anditendedasabruptlyandfuriouslyasithadbegun.Hewhippedhisthickarmsawayandshovedmebackwardwithhischest,shakinghisheadandshudderingasifasharkhadpassedhiminshallowwater.Helookedupquickly,andthewarmththatreddenedhiseyesviedwithagrimwarningclampedinthebad-luckhorseshoeofhismouth.IknewthatifIeverraisedthatmomentofaffectionwithhim,orreferredtoitinanyway,Iwouldlosehisfriendshipforever.
Ikickedthebiketolifeandstraddledit,pushingawayfromthekerbwithmylegsandpointingitinthedirectionofNanaChowkandColaba.
“Saatchaurhimmat,”AbdullahcalledoutasIrodepasthim.
Iwaved,andnodded,butIcouldn’tgivetheansweringcalltotheslogan.Ididn’tknowhowmuchtruthorcouragewasinmydecisiontojointhemontheirmissiontoSriLanka.Notmuch,itseemedtome,asIrodeawayfromthem,fromallofthem,andsurrenderedtothewarmnight,andthepressandpauseoftraffic.
Ablood-redmoonwasrisingfromtheseaasIreachedtheBackBayroadleadingtoNarimanPoint.Iparkedthebikebesideacold-drinkstall,lockedit,andthrewthekeystothemanager,whowasafriendfromtheslum.Withthemoonbehindme,Isetoutalongthefootpathbesidealongcurveofsandybeachwherefishermenoftenrepairedtheirnetsandbatteredboats.TherewasafestivalonthatnightintheSassoonDockarea.Thecelebrationshaddrawnmostofthelocalpeoplefromthehutsandsheltersonthebeach.TheroadwhereIwalkedwasalmostdeserted.
AndthenIsawher.Shewassittingontheedgeofanoldfishingboatthatwashalf-buriedonthebeach.Onlytheprowandafewmetresofthelongboat’sgunnelsprotrudedfromthesurroundingwavesofsand.Shewaswearingalong,salwartopoverloosepants.Herkneesweredrawnup,andshewasrestingherchinonherarmsasshestaredoutatthedarkwater.
“ThisiswhyIlikeyou,youknow,”Isaid,sittingdownbesideherontherailofthebeachedfishingboat.
“Hello,Lin,”shereplied,smiling,hergreeneyesasdarkasthewater.“I’mgladtoseeyou.Ithoughtyouweren’tcoming.”
“Yourmessagesoundedkindof…urgent.Inearlydidn’tgetit.
ItwasjustluckythatIranintoDidieronhiswaytotheairport,andhetoldme.”
“Luckiswhathappenstoyouwhenfategetstiredofwaiting,”shemurmured.
“Fuckyou,Karla,”Ireplied,laughing.
“Oldhabits,”shegrinned,“diehard-andlieharder.”
Hereyesmovedacrossmyfeaturesforamoment,asifshewassearchingamapforafamiliarreferencepoint.Hersmileslowlyfaded.
“I’mgoingtomissDidier.”
“Me,too,”Imuttered,thinkingthathewasprobablyintheairalready,andonhiswaytoItaly.“ButIthinkhe’llbebackbeforetoolong.”
“Why?”
“IputtheZodiacGeorgesinhisapartment,tolookafterit.”
“Ooooh!”shewinced,makingaperfectkissofherperfectmouth.
“Yeah.Ifthatdoesn’tbringhimbackquick,nothingwill.Youknowhowhelovesthatapartment.”
Shedidn’tanswer,butherstaretightenedintheintensityofherconcentration
“Khaled’shere,inIndia,”sheremarkedflatly,watchingmyeyes.
“Where?”
“InDelhi-well,nearDelhi,actually.”
“When?”
“Thereportcameintwodaysago.Ihaditchecked.Ithinkit’shim.”
“Whatreport?”
Shelookedaway,towardsthesea,andbreathedalong,slowsigh.
“Jeethasaccesstoallthewireservices.OneofthemsentareportaboutanewspiritualleadernamedKhaledAnsari,whowalkedallthewayfromAfghanistan,andwaspullinginbigcrowdsoffollowerswhereverhewent.WhenIsawit,IaskedJeettocheckitoutforme.Hispeoplesentadescription,anditfits.”
“Wow…thankGod…thankGod.”
“Yeah,maybe,”shemurmured.Somethingoftheoldmischiefandmysteryflaredinhereyes.
“Andyou’resureit’shim?”
“Sureenoughtogotheremyself,”sheanswered,lookingatmeoncemore.
“Doyouknowwhereheis-now,Imean?”
“Notexactly,butIthinkIknowwherehe’sgoing.”“Where?”
“Varanasi.Khaderbhai’steacher,Idriss,livesthere.He’sveryoldnow,buthestillteachesthere.”
“Khaderbhai’steacher?”Iasked,stunnedtothinkthatinallthehundredsofhoursI’dspentwithKhader,listeningtohisphilosophylectures,he’dnevermentionedthename.
“Yes.Imethimonce,rightatthestart,whenIfirstcametoIndia,withKhader.Iwas…Idon’tknow…Iguessyou’dcallitanervousbreakdown.Therewasthisplane,goingtoSingapore.
Idon’tevenknowhowIgotonit.AndIbrokedown-just,kindof,crackedup.AndKhader,hewasonthesameplane.Andheputhisarmaroundme.Itoldhimeverything…absolutely…everything.Andnextthing,I’minthiscavewithagiantBuddhastatueandthisteachernamedIdriss-Khader’steacher.”
Therewasapausewhilesheletthosememoriespullherintothepast,butthensheshookherselffree,andbackintothemoment.
“Ithinkthat’swhereKhaledisgoing-toseeIdriss.Theoldgurufascinatedhim.Hewasobsessedaboutmeetinghim.Idon’tknowwhyhenevergotaroundtoitthen,butIthinkthat’swherehe’sheadednow.Ormaybehe’salreadythere.Heusedtoaskmeabouthimallthetime.IdrisstaughtKhadereverythingheknewaboutResolutiontheory,and-”
“Aboutwhat?”
“Resolutiontheory.That’swhatKhadercalledit,buthesaiditwasIdrisswhogaveitthatname.Itwashisphilosophyoflife,Khader’sphilosophy,abouthowtheuniverseisalwaysmovingtoward-”
“Complexity,”Iinterrupted.“Iknow.Italkedaboutitalotwithhim.ButhenevercalleditResolutiontheory.AndhenevertalkedaboutIdriss.”
“That’sfunny,becauseIthinkhelovedIdriss,youknow,likeafather.Once,hecalledhimtheteacherofallteachers.AndIknowhewantedtoretireupthere,notfarfromVaranasi,withIdriss.Anyway,that’swhereI’mgoingtostartlookingforKhaled.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“O-kay,”Iresponded,avoidinghereyes.“Isthis…isthisanythingtodowith…well,youandKhaled,frombefore?”
“Youcanbesuchafucksometimes,Lin,youknowthat?”
Ilookedupsharply,butIdidn’trespond.“DidyouknowUlla’sintown?”sheaskedafterawhile.
“No.Whendidshegetin?Haveyouseenher?”
“That’sjustit.Igotamessagefromher.ShewasatthePresident,andshewantedtoseemerightaway.”
“Didyougo?”
“Ididn’twantto,”shemused.“Ifyougotthemessage,wouldyouhavegone?”
“Iguess,”Ianswered,staringoutatthebaywheremoonlightcrestedontheserpentcurvesofagentlyrollingsea.“Butnotforher.ForModena.Isawhimawhileago.He’sstillnutsabouther.”
“Isawhimtonight,”shesaidquietly.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.Justbefore.Withher.Itfreakedmeout.Iwenttothehotelanduptoherroom.Therewasanotherguythere,aguynamedRamesh-”
“Modenatoldmeabouthim.They’refriends.”
“So,heopensthedoor,andIwalkin,andIseeUlla,sittingonthebed,restingherbackagainstthewall.AndModena,he’slyingacrossherlegs,withhisheadbacknearhershoulder.Thatface…”
“Iknow.It’sahellofamess.”
“Itwasweird.Itwasfreakingmeout,thewholescene.I’mnotsurewhy.AndUlla,shetellsmesheinheritedalotofmoneyfromherfather-they’reveryrich,youknow,Ulla’sfamily.TheypracticallyownthetowninGermanywhereshewasborn,buttheycutheroffcoldwhenshewasheavyintodrugs.Shenevergotathingfromthemforyears-notuntilherfatherdied.Sowhensheinheritedthemoney,shegotthisideatocomebackandlookforModena.Shefeltguilty,shesaid,andshecouldn’tlivewithherself.Andshefoundhim.Hewaswaitingforher.Andtheyweretogether,whenIwenttoseeher,likesome…somekindofalovestory.”
“Damn,ifhewasn’trightabouther,”Isaidsoftly.“Hetoldme–heknewshe’dcomebackforhim,andshereallydid.Ineverbelieveditforasecond.Ithoughthewasjustcrazy.”
“Thewaytheyweresittingtogether,withhimacrossherlegs.
YouknowthePieta?Michelangelo?Itlookedexactlylikethat.Itwassostrange.Itreallyshookmeup.Somethingsaresoweirdtheymakeyouangry,youknow?”
“Whatdidshewant?”“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Whydidshecallyoutothehotel?”
“Oh,Igetit,”shesaid,withalittlesmile.“Ullaalwayswantssomething.”
Iraisedaneyebrow,returningherstare,butsaidnothing.
“ShewantedmetoarrangeapassportforModena.He’sbeenhereforyears.He’sanoverstayer.Andhe’sgotafewproblemswiththeSpanishpolice,underhisownname.HeneedsanewpassporttogetbackintoEurope.HecouldpassforItalian.OrmaybePortuguese.”
“Leaveittome,”Isaidcalmly,thinkingthatIknewthereason,atlast,whyshe’daskedmetomeetwithher.“I’llgetonittomorrow.Iknowhowtogetintouchwithhim,forphotosandwhatever-althoughthere’dbenomistakinghisfaceatacustomscheck.I’llfixit.”
“Thanks,”shesaid,meetingmyeyeswithsuchferventintensitythatmyheartbegantobeathardagainstmychest.Itisalwaysafool’smistake,Didieroncesaidtome,tobealonewithsomeoneyoushouldn’thaveloved.“Whatareyoudoing,Lin?”
“Sittingherewithyou,”Ireplied,smiling.
“No,Imean,whatareyougoingtodo?AreyougoingtostayinBombay?”
“Why?”
“Iwasgoingtoaskyou…ifyouwanttocomewithme,tofindKhaled.”
Ilaughed,butshedidn’tlaughwithme.
“That’sthesecond-bestofferI’vehadtoday.”
“Thesecondbest?”shedrawled.“Whatwasthefirst?”
“Someoneinvitedmetogotothewar,inSriLanka.”
Sheclampedherlipstightlyaroundanangryresponse,butIheldmyhandsupinsurrender,andspokequickly.
“I’mjustkidding,Karla,justkidding.Takeiteasy.Imean,it’strueabouttheinvitationtogotoSriLanka,butI’mjust…youknow.”
Sherelaxed,smilingagain.
“I’moutofpractice.It’sbeenalongtime,Lin.”
“So…whytheinvitationnow?”
“Whynot?”
“That’snotgoodenough,Karla,andyouknowit.”
“Okay,”shesighed,glancingatmeandthenlookingawaytofollowthebreezeweavingwave-patternsonthesand.“IguessIwashopingtofindsomethinglike…likewhatwehadinGoa.”
“Whatabout…Jeet?”Iasked,ignoringtheopeningshe’dgivenme.“HowdoeshefeelaboutyougoingofftofindKhaled?”
“Weleadseparatelives.Wedowhatwewant.Wegowherewewant.”
“Sounds…breezy,”Ioffered,strugglingtofindawordthatwasn’talie,butwouldn’toffend.“Didiermadeitsoundmoreseriousthanthat-toldmetheguyaskedyoutomarryhim.”
“Hedid,”shesaidflatly.
“And?”
“Andwhat?”
“Andwillyou-marryhim,Imean?”
“Yes.IthinkIwill.”
“Why?”
“Whynot?”
“Don’tstartthatagain.”
“Sorry,”shesaid,sighingthroughatiredsmile.“I’vebeenrunningwithadifferentcrowd.WhymarryJeet?He’saniceguy,he’shealthy,andhe’sloaded.And,hey,IthinkI’lldoabetterjobofspendinghismoneythanhedoes.”
“Sowhatyou’retellingmeisthatyou’rereadytodieforthislove.”
Shelaughedandthenturnedtome,suddenlyseriousagain.Hereyes,palewithmoonlight;hereyes,thegreenofwaterliliesaftertherain;herlonghair,blackasforestriverstones;herhairthatwaslikeholdingthenightitselfinthewrapofmyfingers;herlips,starredwithincandescentlight;lipsofcamellia-petalsoftnesswarmedwithsecretwhispers.Beautiful.
AndIlovedher.Ilovedherstillsomuch,sohard,butwithnoheatorheartatall.Thatfallinglove,thathelpless,dreaming,soaringlove,wasgone.AndIsuddenlyknewinthosesecondsof…coldadoration,Isuppose…thatthepowershe’donceheldovermewasalsogone.Or,morethanthat,herpowerhadmovedintome,andhadbecomemine.Iheldallthecards.AndthenIwantedtoknow.Itwasn’tgoodenoughtojustacceptwhathadhappenedbetweenus.Iwantedtoknoweverything.
“Whydidn’tyoutellme,Karla?”
Shegaveananguishedlittlesigh,andstretchedherlegsouttoburyherbarefeetinthesand.Watchingthesmallcascadesofsoftsandspilloverhermovingfeet,shespokeinadull,flattone,asifshewascomposingaletter-orrecallingaletter,perhaps,thatshe’dwrittenonceandneversenttome.“Iknewyouweregoingtoaskme,andIthinkthat’swhyI’vewaitedsolongtogetintouchwithyou.IletpeopleknowthatIwasaround,andIaskedafteryou,butIdidn’tdoanything,untiltoday,because…Iknewyou’daskme.”
“Ifitmakesitanyeasier,”Iinterrupted,soundingharderthanI’dintended,“IknowyouburneddownMadameZhou’splace-”
“DidGhanitellyouthat?”
“Ghani?No.Ifiguredthatoneoutmyself.”
“Ghanididitforme-hearrangedit.ThatwasthelasttimeIspoketohim.”
“ThelasttimeIspoketohimwasaboutanhourbeforehedied.”
“Didhetellyouanythingabouther?”sheasked,perhapshopingthatthereweresomepartsofitshewouldn’thavetotellme.
“AboutMadameZhou?No.Hedidn’tsayaword.”
“Hetoldme…alot,”shesighed.“Hefilledinafewgaps.IthinkitwasGhaniwhotippedmeovertheedgewithher.HetoldmeshehadRajanfollowingyou,andsheonlypulledherstringswiththecopstogetyouarrestedwhenRajantoldheryoumadelovetome.Ialwayshatedher,butthatdidit.Ijust…itwasonethingtoomany.Shecouldn’tletmehaveit,thattimewithyou.Shewouldn’tletmehaveit.SoIcalledinsomedueswithGhani,andhearrangedit.Theriot.Itwasagreatfire.Ilitsomeofitmyself.”
Shebrokeoff,staringatherfeetinthesand,andclampedherjawshut.Reflectedlightsgleamedinhereyes.ForamomentIletmyselfimaginehowthosegreeneyesmust’veblazedwithfirelightasshe’dwatchedthePalaceburn.
“IknowabouttheStates,too,”Isaidafterawhile.“Iknowwhathappenedthere.”
Shelookedatmequickly,readingmyeyes.
“Lisa,”shesaid.Ididn’tanswer.Then,knowinginstantly,aswomendo,whatshecouldn’tpossiblyknow,shesmiled.“That’sgood-Lisaandyou.YouandLisa.That’s…verygood.”
Myexpressiondidn’tchange,andhersmilefadedasshelookeddownatthesandoncemore.
“Didyoukillanyone,Lin?”
“When?”Iasked,notsureifshewastalkingaboutAfghanistanorthemuch-smallerwaragainstChuhaandhisgang.“Ever.”
“No.”
“I’mglad,”shebreathed,sighingagain.“Iwish…”
Shewassilentagainforawhile.Fromsomewherebeyondthedesertedbeachweheardthesoundsofthefestival:happy,roaringlaughterrisingovertheblareofabrassband.Muchcloser,oceanmusicgushedontothesoftassentingshore,andthepalmsaboveustrembledinthecoolingbreeze.
“WhenIwentthere…whenIwalkedintohishouse,intotheroomwherehewasstanding,hesmiledatme.Hewas…actually…happytoseeme.Andforasplitsecond,Ichangedmymind,andIthoughtitwas…over.Then,Isawsomethingelse,rightthereinthemiddleofhissmile…somethingdirty,and…hesaid…Iknewyou’dbebackformore,oneofthesedays…orsomethinglikethat.Andhe…hekindof,hestartedlookingaroundlikehewasmakingsurenobodywasgonnabustinonus…”
“It’sokay,Karla.”
“Whenhesawthegun,itwasworse,becausehestarted…notbegging…butapologising…anditwasrealclear,realclear,thatheknewwhathedidtome…heknew…everypartofit,andhowbaditwas.Andthatwasmuchworse.Andthenhewasdead.Therewasn’talotofblood.Ithoughttherewouldbe.
Maybetherewaslater.AndIdon’tremembertherest,untilIwasintheplanewithKhader’sarmaroundme.”
Shewasquiet.Ileanedovertopickupaconicalshelldescendinginspiralstoasharp,erodedpoint.Ipresseditintomypalmuntilitpiercedtheskin,andthenthrewitawayacrosstherippledsand.WhenIlookedatheragain,Ifoundthatshewasstaringatmeandfrowninghard.
“Whatdoyouwant?”sheaskedbluntly.
“IwanttoknowwhyyounevertoldmeaboutKhaderbhai.”
“Doyouwantitstraight?”
“OfcourseIdo.”
“Icouldn’ttrustyou,”shedeclared,lookingawayagain.“That’snotexactlyright-Imean,Ididn’tknowifIcouldtrustyou.Ithink…now-Iknow-Icould’vetrustedyouallalong.”
“Okay.”Myteethweretouching,andmylipsdidn’tmove.
“Itriedtotellyou.ItriedtogetyoutostaywithmeinGoa.
Youknowthat.”
“Itwould’vemadeadifference,”Isnapped,butthensighedjustasshehad,andrelaxedmytone.“Itmight’vemadeadifferenceifyou’dtoldmethatyouworkedforhim-thatyourecruitedmeforhim.”
“WhenIranaway…whenIwenttoGoa,Iwasinabadway.TheSapnathing-thatwasmyidea.Didyouknowthat?”
“No.Jesus,Karla.”
Hereyesnarrowedasshereadtheangrydisappointmentinmyface.
“Notthekillingpart,”sheexplained,andherexpressionwasshocked,Ithink,torealisethatI’dmisunderstoodwhatshe’dsaid,andthatIbelievedhercapableofdevisingtheSapnakillings.“ThatwasallGhani’sidea-hisspinonit.Theyneededtogetstuffinandout,throughBombay,andtheyneededhelpfrompeoplewhodidn’twanttogiveit.Myideawastocreateacommonenemy-Sapna-andtogeteverybodyworkingwithustodefeathim.Itwassupposedtobedonewithposters,andgraffiti,andsomeharmlessbombhoaxes-tomakeitseemliketherewasadangerous,charismaticleaderoutthere.ButGhanididn’tthinkitwasscaryenough.That’swhyhestartedthekillings…”
“Andyouleft…forGoa.”
“Yeah.YouknowtheveryfirstplaceIheardaboutthekillings-whatGhaniwasdoingwithmyidea?ItwasatthatVillageintheSky…thatlunchyoutookmeto.Yourfriendsweretalkingaboutit.Anditreallyshookmeupthatday.Istuckitoutforawhile,tryingtostopit,somehow.Butitwashopeless.AndthenKhadertoldmeyouwereinjail-butyouhadtostaythereuntilMadameZhoudidwhathewantedhertodo.Andthenhe…hegotmetoworkonthePakistani,theyounggeneral.Hewasacontactofmine,andhelikedme.SoI…Ididit.Iworkedhim,whileyouwereinthere,untilKhadergotwhathewanted.
AndthenIjust…quit.I’dhadenough.”
“Butyouwentbacktohim.”
“Itriedtogetyoutostaywithme.”
“Why?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
Shewasfrowning,andseemedirritatedbythequestion.
“Whydidyouwantmetostaywithyou?”
“Isn’tthatobvious?”
“No.I’msorry.It’snot.Didyouloveme,Karla?I’mnotaskingifyoulovedmelikeIlovedyou.Imean…didyoulovemeatall?Didyoulovemeatall,Karla?”“Ilikedyou…”
“Yeah…”
“No,it’strue.Ilikedyou,morethananyoneelseIknew.That’salotforme,Lin.”
Myjawwaslockedtight,andIturnedmyheadawayfromher.Shewaitedforafewmomentsandthenspokeagain.
“Icouldn’ttellyouaboutKhader.Icouldn’t.Itwould’vefeltlikeIwasbetrayinghim.”
“Betrayingmewasdifferent,Iguess.”
“Fuck,Lin,itwasn’tlikethat.Ifyou’dstayedwithme,webothwould’vebeenoutofthatworld,buteventhenIcouldn’thavetoldyou.Anyway,itdoesn’tmatter.Youwouldn’tstaywithme,soIneverthoughtI’dseeyouagain.ThenIgotamessagefromKhadersayingyouwereinGupta’splace,killingyourselfwithsmack,andheneededmetohelphimgetyououtofthere.That’showIgotbackintoit.That’showIwentbacktohim.”
“Ijustdon’tgetit,Karla.”
“Whatdon’tyouget?”
“Youworkedforhim,andGhani,forhowlong-beforetheSapnathing?”
“Aboutfouryears.”
“So,youmust’veseenalotofotherstuffgodown-youmust’veheardaboutit,attheveryleast.You’reworkingfortheBombaymafia,forfuck’ssake,oragoddamnbranchofit.You’reworkingforoneofBombay’sbiggestgangsters,likeIwas.Youknewtheykilledpeople,beforeGhaniwentpsychowithhisSapnagang.Why…afterallthat,didyousuddenlygetfreakedoutwiththeSapnathing?Idon’tgetit.”
She’dbeenwatchingmeclosely.IknewshewascleverenoughtoseethatIwasstrikingbackatherwiththequestions,buthereyestoldmethatshesawmorethanthat.AlthoughI’dtriedtohideit,Iknewshe’dpickedupthescepticismbarbedwithrighteouscensureinmytone.WhenIfinishedshetookabreath,andseemedabouttospeak,butthenshepausedasifreconsideringherreply.
“YouthinkIleftthem,”shebeganatlast,withalittlefrownofsurprise,“andwenttoGoabecauseIwantedtobe…what…forgiven,forwhatI’ddone?OrforwhatI’dbeenpartof?Isthatit?”
“Didyou?”“No.Iwantedtobeforgiven,andIstilldo,butnotforthat.IleftthembecauseIdidn’tfeelanythingatallabouttheSapnakillings.Iwasstunned…and…sortof,freakedout,atfirst,thatGhanihadturnedtheideaaroundsomuch.AndIdidn’tlikeit.Ithoughtitwasstupid.Ithoughtitwasunnecessaryanditwouldgetusallintotroublewedidn’tneed.
AndItriedtotalkKhaderbhaioutofit.Itriedtogetthemtostop.ButIdidn’tfeelanythingaboutit,evenwhentheykilledMadjid.AndI…Iusedtolikehim,youknow?IlikedoldMadjid.Hewasthebestofthem,inaway.ButIdidn’tfeelanythingwhenhedied.AndIdidn’tfeelit,notevenabit,whenKhadertoldmehehadtoleaveyouinjailandletyougetbeatenup.Ilikedyou-morethanIlikedanyoneelse-butIdidn’tfeelbadorsorry.Ikindofunderstoodit-thatithadtohappen,anditwasjustbadluckthatitwashappeningto_you.Ifeltnothing.Andthat’swhenithitme-that’swhenIknewIhadtogetaway.”
“WhataboutGoa?Youcan’ttellmethatwasnothing.”
“No.WhenyoucametoGoaandyoufoundme,likeIknewyouwould,itwas…prettygood.Istartedtothink,thisiswhatit’slike…thisiswhatthey’retalking_about…Butthenyouwouldn’tstay.Youhadtogoback-backto_him-andIknewhewantedyou,maybeevenneededyou.AndIcouldn’ttellyouwhatIknewabouthim,becauseIowedhim,andIdidn’tknowifIcouldtrustyou.SoIletyougo.Andwhenyouleft,Ididn’tfeelanythingatall.Notathing.Ididn’twanttobeforgivenbecauseofwhatIdid.Iwantedtobeforgiven-andIstillwantit,andthat’swhyI’mgoingtoKhaledandIdriss-becauseIdon’tfeelsorryforanyofit,andIdon’tregretathing.I’mcoldinside,Lin.Ilikepeople,andIlikethings,butIdon’tloveanyofthem-notevenmyself-andIdon’treallycareaboutthem.And,youknow,thestrangethingis,Idon’treallywishthatIdidcare.”
Andthereitwas.Ihaditall-allthetruthanddetailthatI’dneededtoknowsincethatdayonthemountain,inthewitheringsnow,whenKhaderhadtoldmeabouther.IthinkI’dexpectedtofeel…nourished,perhaps,andvindicated,byforcinghertotellmewhatshe’ddoneandwhyshe’ddoneit.IthinkI’dhopedtobereleasedbyit,andsolaced,justbyhearinghertellme.
Butitwasn’tlikethat.Ifeltempty:thekindofemptinessthat’ssadbutnotdistressed,pityingbutnotbroken-hearted,anddamaged,somehow,butclearerandcleanerforit.AndthenIknewwhatitwas,thatemptiness:there’sanameforit,awordweuseoften,withoutrealisingtheuniverseofpeacethat’senfoldedinit.
Thewordisfree.
“Forwhatit’sworth,”Isaid,reachingouttoputmyhandagainsthercheek,“Iforgiveyou,Karla.Iforgiveyou,andIloveyou,andIalwayswill.”
Ourlipsmetlikewavesthatcrestandmergethewhirlofstormingseas.IfeltthatIwasfalling:freeandfallingatlastfromthelovethathadopened,lotus-layered,withinme.Andtogetherwedidfallthelengthofherblackhairtothestillwarmsandinthehollowofthesunkenboat.
Whenourlipsparted,starsrushedthroughthatkissintohersea-greeneyes.Anageoflongingpassedfromthoseeyesintomine.Anageofpassionpassedfrommygreyeyesintohers.Allthehunger,allthefleshedandhope-starvedcraving,streamedfromeyetoeye:themomentwemet;thelaughingwitofLeopold’s;theStandingBabas;theVillageintheSky;thecholera;theswarmofrats;thesecretsthatshe’dwhisperednearexhaustedsleep;thesingingboatonthefloodbeneaththeGateway;thestormwhenwemadelovethefirsttime;thejoyandlonelinessinGoa;andourlovereflectingshadowsintoglass,onthelastnightbeforethewar.
Andtherewerenomorewords.TherewasnomoreclevernessasIwalkedhertoataxiparkednearby.Ikissedheragain.Alongkiss,goodbye.Shesmiledatme.Itwasagoodsmile,abeautifulsmile,andalmostherbest.Iwatchedtheredlightsofthetaxifuzzandblurandthenvanishinthefurthernessofnight.
Aloneonthestrangelyquietstreet,IbegantowalkbacktoPrabaker’sslum-IalwaysthoughtofitasPrabaker’sslum,andIstilldo-toretrievemybike.Myshadowstwirledwitheverystreetlight,draggingloathbehindmeandthenrushingonahead.
Oceansongsreceded.Theroadmovedbeyondthespanofcoastandintothewide,tree-linedstreetsofthenewpeninsulareclaimedfromthesea,stoneonmortaredstone,bytheever-expandingislandcity.
Soundsofcelebrationstreamedintotheroadfromstreetsaroundme.Thefestivalhadended,andthepeoplewerebeginningtoreturn.Daringboysonbicyclesflashedbetweenthewalkersmuchtoofast,butnevertouchingsomuchasaflapofsleeve.
Impossiblybeautifulgirlsinbrightnewsarisglidedbetweentheglancesofyoungmenwho’dscentedtheirshirts,aswellastheirskin,withsandalwoodsoap.Childrensleptonshoulders,theirunwilledarmsandlegshanginglimpaswetwashingonaline.Someonesangalovesong,andadozenvoicesjoinedthechorusesforeachverse.Everymanandwoman,walkinghometoslumhutorfineapartment,smiled,listeningtotheromantic,foolishwords.
Threeyoungmensingingnearmesawmysmile,andraisedthepalmsoftheirhandsinquestion.Iliftedmyarmsandsangthechorus,joiningmyvoicetotheirs,andshockinganddelightingthemwithwhatIknew.Theythrewtheirstrangers’armsaroundmeandsweptoursong-connectedsoulstowardtheunvanquishableruinoftheslum.Everyoneinthewholeworld,Karlaoncesaid,wasIndianinatleastonepastlife.AndIlaughedtothinkofher.
Ididn’tknowwhatIwoulddo.Thefirstpartofitwasclearenough-“!wasthedebttotheburlyAfghan,Nazeer.He’dsaidtomeonce,whenI’dtalkedtohimoftheguiltIcontinuedtofeelforKhader’sdeath:Goodgun,goodhorse,goodfriend,goodbattle-youknowbetterwaythatGreatKhan,hecandie?Andatinyfragmentofthatthoughtorfeelingappliedtome,too.Itwasright,somehow-althoughIcouldn’thaveexplainedit,eventomyself-andfittingformetoriskmylifeinthecompanyofgoodfriends,andinthecourseofanimportantmission.
AndtherewassomuchmorethatIhadtolearn,somuchthatKhaderbhaihadwantedtoteachme.Iknewthathisphysicsteacher,themanhe’dtoldmeaboutinAfghanistan,wasinBombay.Andtheotherteacher,Idriss,wasinVaranasi.IfImadeitbacktoBombayfromNazeer’smissiontoSriLanka,therewasaworldoflearningtodiscoverandenjoy
Inthemeanwhile,inthecity,myplacewithSanjay’scouncilwasassured.Therewasworkthere,andmoney,andalittlepower.Forawhiletherewassafety,inthebrotherhood,fromthelongreachofAustralianlaw.Therewerefriendsonthecouncil,andatLeopold’s,andintheslum.And,yes,maybetherewasevenachanceforlove.
WhenIreachedthebikeIkeptwalkingonintotheslum.Iwasn’tsurewhy.Iwasfollowinganinstinct,anddrawn,perhaps,bytheswollenmoon.Thenarrowlanes,thosewrithingalleysofstruggleanddream,weresofamiliartomeandsocomfortinglysafethatImarvelledatthefearI’doncefeltthere.Iwanderedwithoutpurposeorplan,andmovedfromsmiletosmileasmenandwomenandchildrenwho’dbeenmypatientsandneighbourslookeduptoseemepass.Imovedinmistsofcookingscentandshowersoap,ofanimalstallsandkerosenelamps,offrankincenseandsandalwoodstreamingupwardfromathousandtinytemplesinathousandtinyhomes.
AtacornerofonelaneIbumpedintoaman,andasourfacesrosetotheirapologieswerecognisedoneanotherinthesameinstant.ItwasMukesh,theyoungthiefwho’dhelpedmeintheColabalock-upandtheArthurRoadjail:themanwhosefreedomI’ddemandedwhenVikramhadpaidmeoutofprison.
“Linbaba!”hecried,seizingmyupperarmsinhishands.“Sogoodtoseeyou!Arrey!What’shappening?”
“I’mjustvisiting,”Ianswered,laughingwithhim.“Whatareyoudoinghere?Youlookgreat!Howthehellareyou?”
“Noproblem,baba!Bilkulfit,hain!”I’mabsolutelyfit!
“Haveyoueaten?Willyoutakechai?”
“Thankyou,baba,no.Iamlateforameeting.”
“_Achcha?”Imuttered.Oh,yes?
Heleanedinclosetowhisper.
“Itisasecret,butIknowIcantrustyou,Linbaba.WearemeetingwithsomeofthosefellowswhoarewithSapna,thekingofthieves.”
“What?”
“Yes,”hewhispered.“Thesefellows,theyactuallyknowthatSapna.Theyspeaktohimalmostofeveryday.”
“That’snotpossible,”Isaid.
“Ohyes,Linbaba.Theyarehisfriends.Andwearemakingthearmy-thearmyofpoorfellows.WewillteachthoseMuslimswhoistherealbosshereinMaharashtra!ThatSapna,hekilledthemafiaboss,AbdulGhani,inhisownmansion,andputthepiecesofhisbodyallaroundhishouse!AndtheMuslims,afterthattheyarelearninghowtofearus.Imustgonow.Wewillseeus,beforetoomuchtime,isn’tit?Goodbye,Linbaba!”
Heranoffthroughthelanes.Iturnedaway,towalkunsmilingintoasuddenmoodthatwasanxiousandangryandforlorn.Andthen,asitalwaysdid,thecity,Bombay,myMumbai,heldmeuponthebroadbackofanourishingconstancy.Ifoundmyselfattheedgeofadevotedcrowdgatheredbeforethenew,largehutbelongingtotheBlueSisters.Menandwomenstoodattherearofthecrowd,whileotherssatorkneltinasemi-circleofsoftlightatthethresholdofthehut.Andthereinthedoorway,framedbyhaloesoflamplightandwreathedaboutwithstreamersofblueincensesmoke,weretheBlueSistersthemselves.Radiant.
Serene.Beingsofsuchlambentcompassion,suchsublimeequanimity,thatinmybroken,exiledheartIpledgedtolovethem,aseverymanandwomanwhosawthemdid.
AtthatmomentIfeltatugatmyshirtsleeveandIturnedmyheadtoseewhatseemedtobetheghostofagiganticsmilewithaverysmallmanattachedtoit.Theghostshookme,grinninghappily,andIreachedouttoencloseitinahugandthenbentforwardquicklytotouchitsfeet,inthetraditionalgreetingtoafatherormother.ItwasKishan,Prabaker’sfather.HeexplainedthathewasinthecityforaholidaywithRukhmabai,Prabaker’smother,andParvati,hiswidow.
“Shantaram!”headmonishedmewhenIstartedspeakingtohiminHindi.“HaveyouforgottenallyourlovelyMarathi?”
“Sorry,father!”Ilaughed,switchingtoMarathi.“I’mjustsohappytoseeyou.WhereisRukhmabai?”
“Come!”heanswered,takingmyhandasifIwasachild,andleadingmethroughtheslum.
Wearrivedatthelittlegroupofhuts,includingmyown,thatclusteredaroundKumar’schaishopnearthecrescentofthesea.
JohnnyCigarwasthere,withJeetendra,QasimAliHussein,andJoseph’swife,Maria.
“Wewerejusttalkingaboutyou!”JohnnycriedasIshookhandsandnoddedmygreetings.“Wewerejustsayingthatyourhutisemptyagain-andwewererememberingthefire,onthatfirstday.
Itwasabigone,na?”
“Itwas,”Imuttered,thinkingofRajuandtheotherswho’ddiedinthatfire.
“So,Shantaram,”avoicescoldedinMarathifrombehindme,“nowyouaretoobigafellowtospeaktoyoursimplevillagemother?”
IswungroundtoseeRukhmabaistandingclosetous.Ibenttotouchherfeet,butsherestrainedme,andjoinedherhandstogetherinagreeting.Shelookedsadderandolderwithinthesoftendearmentsofhersmile,andgrievinghadputaswipeofgreyintheblackpeltofherhair.Butthehairwasgrowingback.ThelonghairI’dseenfallinglikeashadowdyingwasgrowingback,andtherewaslivinghopeinthethick,upwardsweepofit.
Thenshedirectedmygazetothewomaninwidow’swhitestandingbesideher.ItwasParvati,andachild,ason,wasstandingwithher.Hewasclingingtohersariskirtforsupport.IgreetedParvati,andwhenIgavemyattentiontotheboyandlookedintohisfaceIwassoshockedthatmyjawdroppedopen.Iturnedtotheadultsandtheyallsmiled,wagglingtheirheadsinthesamewonder,forthechildwastheimageofPrabaker.Morethanmerelyresemblinghim,theboywastheexactduplicateofthemanwe’dalllovedmorethananyotherweknew.Andwhenhesmiledatmeitwashissmile,Prabaker’svast,world-encompassingsmile,thatIsawinthatsmall,perfectlyroundface.
“Babydijiye?”Iasked.CanIholdhim?
Parvatinodded.Iheldmyarmsouttohim,andhecametomewithoutprotest.
“What’shisname?”Iasked,jiggingtheboyonmyhipandwatchinghimsmile.
“Prabu,”Parvatianswered.“WecalledhimPrabaker.”
“OhPrabu,”Rukhmabaicommanded,“giveShantaram-uncleakiss.”
Theboykissedmeonthecheek,quickly,andthenwrappedhistinyarmsaroundmyneckwithimpetuousstrength,andsqueezedme.Ihuggedhiminreturn,andheldhimtomyheart.
“Youknow,Shantu,”Kishansuggested,pattingathisroundbelly,andsmilingtofilltheworld,“yourhouseisempty.Weareallhere.Youcouldstaywithustonight.Youcouldsleephere.”
“Thinkhard,Lin,”JohnnyCigarwarned,grinningatme.Thefullmoonwasinhiseyes,andpearlinghisstrongwhiteteeth.“Ifyoustay,wordwillgetout.First,there’llbeapartytonight,andthen,whenyouwakeup,there’llbeadamnlonglineofpatients,yaar,waitingtoseeyou.”
IgavetheboybackintoParvati’sarms,andwipedahandacrossmyfaceandintomyhair.Lookingatthepeople,listeningtothebreathing,heaving,laughing,strugglingmusicoftheslum,allaroundme,IrememberedoneofKhaderbhai’sfavouritephrases.
Everyhumanheartbeat,he’dsaidmanytimes,isauniverseofpossibilities.AnditseemedtomethatIfinallyunderstoodexactlywhathe’dmeant.He’dbeentryingtotellmethateveryhumanwillhasthepowertotransformitsfate.I’dalwaysthoughtthatfatewassomethingunchangeable:fixedforeveryoneofusatbirth,andasconstantasthecircuitofthestars.ButIsuddenlyrealisedthatlifeisstrangerandmorebeautifulthanthat.Thetruthisthat,nomatterwhatkindofgameyoufindyourselfin,nomatterhowgoodorbadtheluck,youcanchangeyourlifecompletelywithasinglethoughtorasingleactoflove.
“Well,I’moutofpracticesleepingontheground,”Isaid,smilingatRukhmabai
“Youcanhavemybed,”Kishanoffered.
“Ohnoyoudon’t!”Iprotested.
“OhyesIdo!”heinsisted,dragginghiscotfromoutsidehishuttominewhileJohnny,Jeetendra,andtheothershuggedandmockwrestledmeintosubmission,andourcriesandlaughterrolledawaytowardthetime-dissolvingevernessofthesea.
Forthisiswhatwedo.Putonefootforwardandthentheother.
Liftoureyestothesnarlandsmileoftheworldoncemore.
Think.Act.Feel.Addourlittleconsequencetothetidesofgoodandevilthatfloodanddraintheworld.Dragourshadowedcrossesintothehopeofanothernight.Pushourbraveheartsintothepromiseofanewday.Withlove:thepassionatesearchforatruthotherthanourown.Withlonging:thepure,ineffableyearningtobesaved.Forsolongasfatekeepswaiting,weliveon.Godhelpus.Godforgiveus.Weliveon.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
IwrotethefirstlinesofShantaramthirteenyearsbeforeIwrotethelast.Manypeoplehavebeeninvolvedwiththeprojectduringthoseyears,andhavehelpedmeinwaysgreatorsmall.InmakingthisgratefulacknowledgementIamsurethat,unintentionally,somenameswillbeomitted.Iaskthosefriendsandcolleaguestoforgiveme.
IwanttothankmypublishersatScribeand,inparticular,HenryRosenbloom,whosawtheloveinthisbook,andwhoheldhisnervewhenthechipsweredown-youcan’taskmorethanthatinanycontext;myeditor,MargotRosenbloom,forprovidingmewithalovingeditthatwasalwaysabravebutregardfulcombinationofheadandheart;theagentfortheproject,JennyDarling,whoseinsightfulsuggestionshelpedmetomakeShantaramabetterbookthanitevercouldhavebeenwithouther;thebook’sdesigner,MiriamRosenbloom,fortheimaginativeelegancewithwhichshegracedtheproject;theinspiringteamatPanMacmillan,fortheirenthusiasticandenduringencouragement;DebbieMcInnes,thebook’sfull-heartedandtirelesslocalpublicist;AyshaRoweandJennyNagle,whochampionedthebookinAotearoaNewZealand;
JessikaandNick,fortheirbeingandtheircourageandtheirjoy;Nick,Mary,Paris,andBlaise,forkeepingthefaithintheirabsentfriend;mymotherandmystepfather,whoseunflaggingmoral,spiritual,andfinancialsupport-beyondwhatIhaveeverdeservedorcouldrepay-hassustainedme,andupliftedthiswork;andmypartner,Shula,whohasbeenthefirstpositivewordandthelastlovinglineofdefence.
And,reachingbackthroughthosethirteenyears,Ialsowanttothankthefollowingcolleaguesandlovedones:AllanandMariaAlmeida,TrishAnderson,ChlorisandChrisBath,ChristineBoyle,KerryBoxall,BuckleyBullock,GrantCarey,WilliamCarey,SarahCarroll,TracyCarroll,AlfredoCerda,PaulChamberlain,NarayanChandrashekar,JuliaChennels,GlenandBindiChoyce,SueColey,CeliaConor,TomCooper,GraemeCorcoran,DaniellaCripa,MalcolmCrook,AlisonDavidson,MarkDavis,DannyDerse,JamesDorabjee,PaulDornbusch,CameronDrake,SuzannahEspie,LindsayForbes,KateGalloway,ConGantinas,RichardGelemanovic,ClaudiaGlenewinkel,LinnetGood,NicholasGoodwin,SherridanGreen,IngridGrobel,LutzGrossman,AnnaHampson,JustineHampson,JasonandVictoriaHartcup,WendyHatfield,RobbieHeazlewood,Chris,Lee,andIanHunter,PietroTheColonelIodice,BashkaJacobs,SuJamison,SandyJarrett,JennyandStuart,JulieJordanou,YusufMohammedKhan,DanielKeays,ValKeogh,RanyanaKhotari,GlenKing,AndyKirkland,Dr.
SueKnight,ClayLafferty,Dr.JohnLattanzio,MarcLawrence,KevinLeighton,Lisette,MyriamLeo,PaulLinacre,GnterLck,Dr.MohammedalMahdi,AmadMalkoun,BigMickMantzaris,PatMartin,NickandChristineMatheou,Maximillian,ElaineMay,JohnMcAuslan,JoanMcQueen,MartinandClaudiaMeurer,MarjorieMichael,MarkMitchell,Myriam,KimAlbertNg,BlaiseOarsman,DonnaPalma,KylieParish,LindonParker,VikramPatel,JanPaull,SallyPaxton,JoycePetrie,SusanRokich,MaxRosenbloom,FabianSalamon,KristinaSchelldorfer,SvenSchmidt,DavidandMichelleShipworth,KathySimota,DaveStevens,BarryandStevenStockley,AnandSubramaniam,SueandPhyl,GregoryandMarySzczepaniak,GillianUpton,ChandrakantVishwanath,Void,WernerandLindaWeber,CheryleWeinstein,ChrisWilson,JohnWooller,andLeeXiaoshin.
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TableofContents
PARTPARTPARTPARTPARTACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ChapterOne
CHAPTERTWO
CHAPTERTHREE
CHAPTERFOUR
CHAPTERFIVE
CHAPTERSIX
CHAPTERSEVEN
CHAPTEREIGHT
PARTTWO
CHAPTERNINE
CHAPTERTEN
CHAPTERELEVEN
CHAPTERTWELVE
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
PARTTHREE
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
CHAPTERNINETEEN
CHAPTERTWENTY
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
PARTFOUR
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
CHAPTERTHIRTY
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
PARTFIVE
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
CHAPTERFORTY
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE