Vikram Chandra - Sacred Games

So we watched movies: Hum Apke Hain Kaun and Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge and Sholay yet again, and Dil To Pagal Hai and Hero No. 1 and Auzaar . And also Mother India and Anarkali and Sujata . And a thousand others I had never heard of, Bahu Begum and Anjaam and Halaku . I also liked to watch English movies, not just the bang-bang kind the boys enjoyed, but also more talky ones to improve my English. But the boys grew restless and bored by these, the ganwar bastards, and begged to go back to some bundal maderchod film where they could watch Raveena Tandon thrust and shove her hips like some sort of crazed machine. So we watched a lot of Indian movies, even Punjabi and Tamil ones. Mukund, one of the boys, was Tamil, and he translated Nayakan for us, and it was true, the Tamil version with Kamalahasan was a lot better. It was strange to see Bombay in Tamil, through Tamil, but the film had dum. It was true, just like life. We watched Vardarajan's life in complete silence, from his beginnings in the slums and his rise up to power and fame. When his son was killed, when that choking cry came from Kamalahasan's throat, we felt that pain, it was ours. We had also lost our loved ones. I had tears on my cheeks. All of us did.

The next day I told Bunty to have flowers sent to Kamalahasan and Mani Ratnam, no name on the bouquets, just a card, 'From a fan of Nayakan' . And that night when Jojo called I told her about how much we had all liked the film.

She burst out laughing. 'So there was a whole bunch of you tough bhais sitting around crying?'

'Kutti, it was a great performance. And a great story.'

'That last scene of the nayakan's funeral, I bet you cried all the way through that.'

'There were thousands and thousands of people at his funeral. Of course I cried. It was very touching.'

Off she went again. Finally she got hold of herself. 'Oof, you men are such sentimentalists. Don't worry, there will be thousands at your funeral.'

'Randi, you don't worry about my funeral. Whenever and however it happens, Parmatma has written it already. It has already happened, but we are fooled by the illusion of time. He has his plan. We are just actors in his play.'

'Vah. Actors in his play.'

'Yes. We dance along the lines of his leela. Birth, life, death, all has a shape, even if we can't see it.'

'What a philosopher you are today, Ganesh Gaitonde. You have changed, you go on and on about destiny and karma and bhenchod gandugiri like that. What has happened to you?'

'Nothing, except that I have started to understand a little of the truth of the universe.' Nobody but Bunty knew of my conversations with Guru-ji. I had to keep all these segments of my world apart, Jojo from Guru-ji, Guru-ji from Mr Kumar, and some of myself from everything.

'Chutiya, you've become one of those holy Hindus.' And she made a spitting sound, as if she was expelling something foul.

'Jojo, you should think about these questions also. Go to your church, maybe you will find some peace there.'

'Gaitonde, now you are turning into my mother. What mixed-up times we live in.'

'Exactly. This is why the spiritual search…'

'Arre, maderchod, you want me to go to the church so some smelly priest can pry into my head and tell me I am a bad woman and give me punishments? And what will his god, or your god, give me? Peace? I don't want peace. I want money, I want a flat, I want my business to grow. Peace! Why don't you give some peace to those girls you thoko every afternoon, my spiritual master?'

And she tumbled about her bed, laughing. I was smiling a little too. Then she stopped abruptly. 'Do you give them spiritual sermons also?'

'Arre, no.'

'Tell me the truth, Gaitonde.'

'Saali, how will I give them lectures if they don't speak Hindi?'

'And they don't understand your toota-phoota English.'

'My English is getting better every day.'

'Stay on the subject, Gaitonde. Have you tried talking to them about the path to, what did you call it, mokha?'

'Moksha.'

'Have you?'

'No.'

'Come on, Gaitonde. Tell the truth. You always have to me, even if you lie to everyone else.'

I was quiet. This was true enough, that I found myself telling her things about myself, my fears and my worries, that I revealed to nobody else.

'Gaitonde.'

'All right. Only once.'

'Tomorrow's Mid-Day headline: "International Don Ganesh Gaitonde Becomes the Great Teacher of Whores!"' She became incapable of coherent speech for a good five minutes. Then finally she came back on the line. 'See, I told you, something has happened to you.'

'It was only because…Listen, there was this Thai girl, she had a little statue of Buddha in her purse. So I tried to talk to her about nirvana. She understood the word nirvana, but nothing else.'

She had laughed herself almost out already, so this time she just chortled for a minute. Then she said, 'I know you better than anyone in the world. Admit it.'

'Admitted, yaar.' I was smiling now. When she was in a good mood, she made me feel light and happy like no one else. 'So if you know me this well, come and know me a bit better. Come and take a holiday on the yacht.'

'Gaitonde, don't start that again. The only reason you let me know you is because I don't let you near me.'

'Jojo, I won't touch you. I give you my promise. Kasam.'

'Touching is not the point, Gaitonde. You know that if we meet, the thought of touching will be there between us. And okay, not just from you but from me also. And that will ruin the whole yaari. I'm telling you.'

'Men and women can't have thoughts of touching and still be friends?'

'Maybe some men and women, on some other continent. But not you and me.'

'Haramzadi, it's not true.'

'It is and you know it.' She was smiling now, I could tell. 'It is written by your Parmatma. It's part of his plan.'

'You're my daily headache. I don't know why I put up with you.' But I was grinning now, and she could tell too.

'And I give you more good thokoing than any girlfriend ever could.'

'True.' Every month or two, she sent girls out from Bombay. The girls were flown out to Singapore or Jakarta on a performing artiste's visa, as part of some song-and-dance troupe. Most of them were really dancers, of a sort. After the shows were over, they were bussed out to wherever the yacht happened to be. There were some for the boys, and the best were reserved for me. Jojo knew my tastes by now. 'That's true. You're like a girlfriend who sends a new version every month,' I said. 'You're the most generous chaavi ever.'

'I am the most perfect chaavi in the history of man, Gaitonde. And after this special treat I'm going to send you next, you will remember me in your prayers to your Parmatma every morning.'

'What treat?'

'First say thank you.'

'For what?'

'You should say thank you to me every day for all I've done for you. But today say it specially, for what I am about to do for you.'

'A girl?'

'Not just a girl. This one is…This one is an amazement, Gaitonde.'

'So tell.'

'First of all, she's a virgin.'

'Yes, yes, like every other randi in Bombay.'

'Seriously. You have a doctor check her if you want. She's from a very orthodox family in Lucknow.'

'If she's that orthodox, what is she doing with someone like you?'

'Arre, baba, she wants to be an actress.'

'Of course.'

'Of course. She's six feet tall, Gaitonde.'

'You want to send me the Qutub Minar, saali.'

'You're a big bhai, you need a tall woman. And have you seen all those foreign models? Six feet is nothing.'

'She's beautiful like a model?'

'She will be.'

'Maderchod, she's ugly right now? And for this you want me to say "Thank you, thank you"?'