Gregory Roberts - The Mountain Shadow

‘Khaled -’

‘I want you to know that you, and Abdullah, my only remaining brothers, will always be safe, now. This power, this money and my inheritance, it’s all ours.’

‘What are you talking about, Khaled?’

‘Money, to expand the business,’ he unexplained.

‘What business?’

‘This business. The ashram. The time has come to franchise. We can run this together, and spread out through India, and eventually to America. The sky’s the limit. Literally, in fact.’

‘Khaled -’

‘That’s why I’ve waited so long to contact you. I had to accumulate this fund base. I brought you here to show you something that’s yours, as much as it is mine.’

‘You’re right about that,’ I said.

‘I’m so glad you understand.’

‘I mean that this stuff you’ve got here isn’t ours, Khaled, and it isn’t yours.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It was given to something bigger than we are, and you know it.’

‘But, you don’t understand,’ he insisted. ‘I want you both in this with me. We can make millions. But the spiritual industry is a vicious business. I’ll need you, as we move on.’

‘I’ve already moved on, Khaled.’

‘But we can franchise!’ Khaled hissed, all teeth. ‘We can franchise!’

‘Khaled, I must leave the city,’ Abdullah said suddenly, urgency rasping his voice.

‘What?’ Khaled asked, shaken from a tree of plans.

‘I want to ask you, one more time, to leave this place, and these people, and come back to Bombay with me.’

‘Again, Abdullah?’ Khaled said.

‘Take your rightful place at the head of the Council that was Khaderbhai’s. We are in a time of trouble, and it will become much worse. We need you to lead us. We need you to push Sanjay aside, and lead us. If you come now, Sanjay will live. If you don’t, one of us will kill him, and then you will have to lead anyway, for the sake of the Company.’

In that new avatar, Khaled was the opposite of what I considered to be a leader of men. But Abdullah, an Iranian who’d tuned his heart to the music of Bombay’s streets, didn’t see the man who stood with us in the attic room. Abdullah saw the prestige that attached itself to Khaled’s long and intimate friendship with Khaderbhai, and the authority that bled from the many battles and gang wars Khaled had presided over, and won, for the Company.

I was done with the Sanjay Company, my mind was made up, but I knew that New Khaled’s taste for subjugation would add fire to Old Khaled’s unhesitating use of power.

Crime mixed with anything is fatal, which is why we’re fascinated by it. Crime mixed with religion redeems saviours with the sacrifice of sinners. I didn’t want Khaled to accept Abdullah’s offer.

‘Once more, I tell you that I can’t accept,’ Khaled smiled. ‘But with friendship and respect, I want you to consider my offer. It’s a golden opportunity to get in on the ground floor, before the spiritual industry really takes off. We can make millions from yoga alone.’

‘You must think of the Company, Khaled,’ Abdullah pressed. ‘You must follow your destiny.’

‘It will not happen,’ Khaled responded, the little smile still on his lips. ‘But I do appreciate your kindness, in considering me again. Now, before you take a final decision, I ask you to think on all my treasures, and join me at lunch. I’m starved, I don’t mind telling you.’

‘I’m done,’ I said.

‘You’re… what?’

‘Khaled, I was already done when you showed me the harem. I’m leaving.’

‘Does that mean you won’t be taking any food?’ Khaled asked, locking the door.

‘It means goodbye, again, Khaled.’

‘But, it’s bad luck not to eat food that has been prepared for you!’ he warned.

‘I’ll have to risk it.’

‘But it’s Kashmiri sweets. A Kashmiri sweet chef is one of my devotees. You have no idea how hard they are to get.’

I crossed the entry hall, Khaled bustling behind me. Tarun joined us, trotting at his master’s side.

‘Oh, well,’ he puffed, walking with us onto the front veranda.

He gave me a damp, spongy hug, shook hands with Abdullah, and waved as we walked the gravel path.

‘Come back any time!’ he called. ‘You’re always welcome! We show movies, on Wednesday nights! We serve ice-cold firni ! And we dance, on Thursdays! I’m learning to dance. Can you believe it?’

Beside him, Tarun made new entries in his notebook.

At the first bend in the path we found Karla waiting for us. She was sitting on a fallen tree, and smoking a cigarette.

‘So, did you piss on his pilgrimage, Shantaram?’

‘You could’ve given me a little more warning, before I saw him,’ I said, feeling beaten by the truth. ‘What the hell happened to him?’

‘He got happy, more or less,’ she answered softly. ‘In his case, a little more than less.’

‘Are you happy to see him like this?’

They both stared at me.

‘Oh, come on!’

They continued to stare.

‘Okay, okay,’ I conceded. ‘Maybe… maybe I just want my friend back. Don’t you miss him?’

‘Khaled is here, Lin,’ Abdullah replied.

‘But -’

‘Save your breath for the climb,’ Karla said, heading back toward the path. ‘Do you gangsters ever shut up?’

We approached the ascent to the first caves, and she began to run at a slow jog. When we reached the steep climb she was still ahead of us.

As we struggled upwards, I couldn’t help staring at the sand-line curves of her body, contoured by the climb.

Men are dogs , Didier once said to me, without the manners .

‘Are you staring at my ass?’ she asked.

‘Afraid so.’

‘Forgive him, Karla.’ Abdullah said to cover somebody’s embarrassment. ‘He simply stares, because you are climbing like an ape.’

Karla laughed, clutching at the vines on the path to hold her place. That big, true laugh rang through domes of branches risen with the cliff. She held her free hand out to Abdullah, warning him not to say another word until the laughter rushed away from her.

‘Thank you, Abdullah,’ she said at last.

‘Don’t mention.’

And laughing, and joking, we three exiles climbed the mountain that would change everything, for each of us, forever.

When we reached the summit there was just enough time to freshen up. Karla changed into a sky-blue salwar kameez , and joined us for the last of the lunch that had been served. As we finished, an announcement was made that Idriss was on the mountain. I looked back toward the steep slope, but everyone else turned to stare at the caves.

‘There’s another way up this mountain?’ I asked Karla.

‘There’s another way up every mountain,’ she purred. ‘Everybody knows that.’

‘O… kay.’

Within seconds an older man I assumed to be Idriss and a younger man, both of them wearing white kurta tops and loose, sky-blue calico pants, appeared on a path that led past the women’s cave. The younger man, a foreigner, carried a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.

‘Who’s the gun?’

‘That’s Silvano,’ Karla replied.

‘What’s the rifle for?’

‘To frighten tigers away.’

‘There are tigers?’

‘Of course. On the next mountain.’

I wanted to ask how close the next mountain was, but Idriss spoke.

‘Dear friends,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘That’s quite a climb, even on the easy path. I apologise for being late. A squabble of philosophers set upon me this morning.’

His deep, gentle voice tumbled from his chest and hummed into the air. It seemed to roll around us on the mesa. It was a voice that comforts: a voice that could wake you softly from a nightmare.