Gregory Roberts - The Mountain Shadow

‘What happened?’

‘I was a little, well, actually, I was a lot drunk last night. There was this great party at the Drum Beat. It was deadly, man. You should’ve seen me. I danced like a motherfucker. Count on it.’

‘I’m counting on an explanation for why I had to get out of a comfortable bed, at six o’clock in the morning, to hear about you dancing like a motherfucker.’

‘Yeah, of course. Sorry. Well, see, the cops came to close the place down, at about one, as usual. Somebody objected, and made a fuss. I guess I got caught up in all the tamasha , and started giving the cops some cheeky remarks.’

‘Cheeky?’

‘Oh, yeah. I’m known for my cheeky remarks.’

‘That’s not something a grown man boasts about, Farzad.’

‘No, really! I’m known for my -’

‘How cheeky are we talking?’

‘There was this very fat cop. I called him Constable Three-Pigs-Fucking. And another one, I said he was stupider than a monkey’s pet coconut. And I said -’

‘I got it. Get on with it.’

‘Well, the next thing I knew I was on the ground. I tripped, or somebody pushed me. And while I was down, bam , somebody kicks me in the back of the head. One shot, but it was enough to put me out.’

‘Lightning Dilip, working double duty.’

‘Yes, it was. That sergeant motherfucker. Anyway, I woke up in the back of the police jeep with Lightning Dilip’s foot on my chest, and then they threw me in the cells. They wouldn’t let me make a phone call, because of all those -’

‘Cheeky remarks.’

‘Yeah. Can you believe that? I thought I was gonna be in there the whole day, and with a couple of rough-and-ready pastings to go along. How did you find out I was there?’

‘The Company pays all the guys who clean the cells. That’s how we keep our guys supplied when they’re locked up here. One of them got a look at you, and called his contact. They called me.’

‘I’m so fucking glad you came, man. That was my first time in the slammer. Another night in there would’ve been the end of me. Count on it.’

‘Sanjay’s not gonna be happy about this. He spends a lot of money keeping a lid on this ward. You’re gonna have to buy him a new hat.’

‘I… I… but, do you know… what size is his head?’ he asked, desperately worried. ‘I’ve only seen him the one time, and, by my recollection, his head looked, no disrespect, a little on the big side.’

‘He doesn’t wear a hat.’

‘But… you said -’

‘I was kidding. But only about the hat.’

‘I… I’m so sorry. I really fucked up badly. It… it won’t happen again. Can you, maybe, put in a good word for me with Sanjay?’

I was still laughing when a taxi pulled up beside us. Naveen Adair got out of the taxi and reached back through the window to pay the driver. Opening the back door, he helped a beautiful young woman out of the cab. He turned and saw me.

‘Lin! Damn good to see you, man. What brings you here?’

‘Six thousand reasons,’ I replied, staring at the girl.

Her face was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

‘Oh,’ Naveen said, ‘this is Divya. Divya Devnani.’

Divya Devnani, daughter of one of Bombay’s richest men. Photographs of her short, athletically fit body, draped in expensive designer dresses, claimed eye-line positions in the coverage of every A-list event in the city.

And that’s what had thrown me: the unglamorous clothes she wore on that morning. The simple blue T-shirt, lapis bead necklace and jeans weren’t from that other world, in which she was born to rule. It was the girl in the woman standing in front of me, not the woman on the page.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said.

‘Got any hash?’ she demanded.

I flicked a glance at Naveen.

‘It’s a long story,’ he sighed.

‘No, it’s not,’ she contradicted him. ‘My dad, Mukesh Devnani – you’ve heard of Mukesh Devnani, I take it?’

‘He’s that guy with the crazy daughter who solicits drugs outside police stations, isn’t he?’

‘Funny,’ she said. ‘Careful now, I’m going to pee in my pants.’

‘You were gonna tell me why it’s not a long story,’ I prompted.

‘I don’t want to tell you, now,’ she sulked.

‘Her father hired a lawyer I know -’ Naveen began.

‘Who then hired this guy,’ she quickly cut in, ‘to be my bodyguard, for a couple of weeks.’

‘I’d say you’re in very good hands.’

‘Thank you,’ Naveen said.

‘Fuck you,’ she said.

‘Nice meeting you,’ I said. ‘So long, Naveen.’

‘And all because I get mixed up with this Bollywood wannabe movie star,’ Divya continued, ignoring me, ‘I mean, not even a real movie star, just a wannabe , for fuck’s sake. And he’s such a fucking jerk, he starts to threaten me when I refuse to go out with him. Can you believe that?’

‘It’s a jungle out there,’ I smiled.

‘You’re telling me ,’ she said. ‘Have you got any hash, or not?’

‘ I have!’ Farzad said quickly. ‘Count on it!’

We turned to stare at him.

He reached down into the front of his pants, fiddled there for a while, and pulled his hand out to reveal a ten-gram block of Kashmiri hashish, wrapped in clear plastic.

‘There,’ he said, offering it to Divya. ‘It’s all yours. Please accept it as… as a gift, like.’

Divya’s lips peeled a lemon of horror.

‘Did you just pull that thing… out of your underpants?’ she asked, gagging a little.

‘Er… yes… but… I changed my underpants only yesterday night. Count on it!’

‘Who the fuck is this guy?’ Divya demanded of Naveen.

‘He’s with me,’ I said.

‘I’m sorry!’ Farzad said, beginning to put the hash in his pocket. ‘I didn’t mean to -’

‘Stop! What are you doing?’

‘But… I thought you -’

‘Peel the plastic off it,’ she commanded. ‘And then don’t touch it. Just leave it in your hand, on the open plastic. Don’t touch it with your fingers. And don’t touch me. Don’t even think about touching me. Believe me, I’ll know it, if you do. A mind like yours, it’s a toy to me. It’s a toy to any woman. So, don’t think about me. And gimme the fuckin’ hash already, you chudh .’

Farzad began to unwrap the block of hashish, his fingers trembling. He glanced at the petite socialite.

‘You’re thinking!’ Divya warned.

‘No!’ Farzad protested. ‘I’m not!’

‘You’re disgusting.’

Farzad finally succeeded in unwrapping the parcel, leaving the hashish exposed on his palm. Divya picked it up between forefinger and thumb, broke off a little piece, and dropped the rest of it into the silver fish-mouth of her purse.

She took out a cigarette, squeezed some tobacco out of the end of it, and placed the little piece of hash into the blank end. She put the cigarette between her lips, and turned to Naveen for a light. He hesitated.

‘You think this is a good idea?’

‘I’m not going in there to talk to the cops unless I have a smoke,’ she said. ‘I don’t even talk to the downstairs maid until the upstairs maid has given me a smoke.’

Naveen lit the cigarette. She puffed at it, held the smoke in her lungs for a few moments, and then let out a solid stream of smoke. Naveen turned to me.

‘Her father filed a complaint against the wannabe actor, before I came along,’ Naveen said. ‘The actor acted heavy. I paid the actor a visit. We talked. He agreed to back off, and to stay backed off. Now we need to lift the complaint, but she has to do it in person. I want to get it done early, before any reporters get onto it, and -’