Gregory Roberts - The Mountain Shadow

‘Glad to see you, man,’ he said. ‘I need my bike. There’s gonna be hell tonight.’

If hell means fire and fury, he was right. Outrage breaks the dam of temper. The murder in the mansion, which also threatened a beloved mosque, would release waves of wolves, and we all knew it. The beautiful city, the tolerant Island City, wasn’t safe any more.

I wondered where Karla was, and if she was safe.

I unlocked my chain, set our bikes free, and we jammed our way back to Colaba. Ravi split away from me at Metro Junction to meet his brothers in arms. I ran up the stairs at the Amritsar hotel, checking to see if Karla was there.

‘You need a shower,’ Jaswant said. ‘And a change of clothes.’

My T-shirt was a mystery, ripped off in the fight. My vest was scorched and blackened. My bare arms and chest were covered in ash and scratches.

‘Have you seen her?’

‘She went to see the race.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Fuck you, baba,’ he said, as I took the steps four at a time.

I had to find the place where Karla would watch a legendary race. My guess was that she’d be drawn to the most dangerous turn on the course: the place where Fate and Death might watch together, with a picnic hamper.

It wasn’t easy to get there. The city was starting on lockdown, and I had to bribe cops at four checkpoints, just to keep my knives.

Inter-communal disharmony can cost lives in the thousands, anywhere in India, even in a tolerant city like Bombay. The cops locked the streets down tight, while a mosque was near to flames, and Hindus were thought to blame.

By the time I reached the vantage point the race was already run, and the traffic cops were responding to reports of a riot in Null Bazaar. A mob is coming from Dongri , I heard police radios saying, again and again in Marathi.

I rode down to the Haji Ali juice centre. I thought that Naveen might celebrate or commiserate the race there, because it was one of the few public places still publicly open.

There were people on the streets as I rode, running toward the Hindu temple, and the Muslim shrine. They’d heard that parts of the predominantly Muslim area of Dongri were in flames.

I had to weave between them, stopping now and then for panicked people who ran directly in front of me on the road. I slithered to a stop at Haji Ali, pulling my bike up some distance from a long line of foreign motorcycles, parked in front. I glanced inside the seated section of the juice bar, and saw Naveen, sitting with Kavita Singh.

I looked back to the biker boy group. There was a slim girl in niqab sunglasses, a red leather jacket, white jeans and red sneakers: Benicia. She was sitting on her bike, a matt black vintage 350cc with clip-on handlebars. The word Ishq , meaning Passionate Love , was painted on the petrol tank.

There were about a dozen people, all of them dressed in coloured leathers, despite the heat. I didn’t know any of them. A head turned toward me. It was Karla.

Karla smiled, but I didn’t know what her eyes said to me. It was either I’m so glad you’re here , or Don’t do anything stupid . I walked the distance between us, and took her arm.

‘I have to talk to you, Karla.’

The boy racers on Japanese motorcycles were looking me over. I was ashes, scratches, and burned-black marks.

‘What happened?’ she asked.

‘Khader’s house,’ I said. ‘It’s gone. Nazeer and Tariq, both gone.’

A psychic thing, but a thing real enough to make her shudder, forked through her body, jerking her head back in distress. She fell into me and slung her arm around my waist as we walked back to my bike. She sat on the bike, her back to the group outside the juice bar.

‘You look hurt,’ she said. ‘Are you okay?’

‘It’s nothing, I -’

‘Were you there, at the fire?’

‘Yeah, I -’

‘ Lunatic! ’ she snapped, simmering queens. ‘Things aren’t dangerous enough, without you have to go play with fire? Why am I taking all this trouble to keep you safe, when you take so much trouble to be unsafe?’

‘But I -’

‘Gimme a joint,’ she said.

We smoked. I was listening to the cops, in the police post nearby, talking about locking the whole city down as Plan B, if the rioting spread beyond Crawford market, which wasn’t far enough away from where we were.

I wanted to get her out of there. I wanted to take her home, dirty and all as I was. I wanted to take a shower and visit her in the Bedouin tent.

The biker boys were looking at us. They were hopped up on watermelon juice and someone else’s victory. Young men, with girls to impress: body language, looking for an offence no one committed.

Fire , I was thinking. It’s gone. All of it. Nazeer, Nazeer, Nazeer, they shot you, and burned you, my brother.

‘He’s dead, the boy?’ Karla asked, grabbing a rope of detail, and pulling me from the fire.

‘Yes. I saw him. He was dead, but untouched by the fire. Nazeer shielded his body. Abdullah brought Tariq’s body out of the building, but he had to leave Nazeer inside.’

‘May the universe comfort this young, returning soul,’ she said.

‘Comfort both their souls.’

‘Both their souls,’ she repeated.

‘They were shot, Karla, and their guards have disappeared.’

‘Are you sure?’

For a moment I looked at her as Abdullah had looked at me on the burning street, an extinct legacy in his arms.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Okay.’

A biker boy approached us. I moved around the bike.

‘Are you okay, Karla?’ the biker boy asked. ‘Is this guy bothering you?’

‘No, Jack,’ I said, unamiably. ‘ You’re bothering me . Back off.’

He was a nice kid, probably, but it was the wrong moment on the wrong night. And besides, I was talking to my girl.

‘Who the fuck are you?’

‘I’m the guy who’s telling you to back off, Jack, while you can.’

‘Go and sit down, Abhay,’ Karla said, her back turned.

‘Anything for you, Karla,’ Abhay said, his shiny jacket creaking like stairs as he bowed. ‘If you need me, I’m just over here.’

He backed away, glaring at me until he rejoined his friends.

‘Nice kid,’ I said.

‘They’re all nice kids,’ she said. ‘And they’re all going to the party tonight.’

‘What party?’

‘The party that I uninvited you to.’

‘Uninvited me?’

‘You were invited, but I uninvited you.’

‘Who invited me, before you uninvited me?’

She turned her head a little to the side.

‘The hostess, if you must know.’

‘What party are we talking about, again?’

‘A special party, and believe it or not, I had to pull strings to cut you from the list. You should feel okay about that.’

‘I don’t feel okay about anything, right now.’

Another biker boy approached us behind Karla’s back, staring at me. The new biker boy was upset about something. I put my hand up, with a hard face behind it, and he stopped.

‘Don’t.’

He backed away again.

‘Take it easy, Lin,’ Karla said, close enough to kiss.

‘This is as easy as it gets, tonight.’

‘They’re friends. Not good friends, and not close friends, but useful friends.’

‘Come with me, Karla.’

‘I can’t -’ she began.

‘You can.’

‘I can’t.’

‘I won , Lin!’ Naveen said, running up to hug me. ‘What a race. That girl is phenomenal, but I won. Did you see it?’

‘Great, Naveen,’ I said. ‘Tell your biker boys to calm down.’

‘Oh, them?’ He laughed. ‘They’re hot-headed, but they just like to ride, man.’