Shantaram полностью

Looking over Parvati’s shoulder, however, was her mother, Nandita. She was a formidable woman, three times the combined width and weight of her petite daughters, Parvati and Sita, and she glowered at us, her expression managing to combine greed for our custom with contempt for our male sex. I smiled at her, and wagged my head. Her smile, in return, was remarkably similar to the fierce grimace that Maori warriors affect to intimidate their enemies.

‘In his last episode,’ Didier continued, ‘the good Vikram hired a horse from the handlers on Chowpatty Beach, and rode it to Letitia’s apartment on Marine Drive to serenade her outside her window.’

‘Did it work?’

‘Unfortunately, non. The horse left a package of merde on the front pathway-during an especially moving part of the song, no doubt-and the many other residents of the apartment building expressed their outrage by pelting the poor Vikram with rotting food. Letitia, it was noticed, threw more offensive missiles, and with a more deadly aim, than any of the neighbours.’

‘C’est l’amour,’ I sighed.

‘Exactly-merde and bad food, c’est l’amour,’ Didier agreed quickly. ‘I do think that I must involve myself in this romance, if it is to succeed. The poor Vikram-he is a fool for love, and Lettie despises a fool above all else. But things are much more successful for Maurizio in the last time. He had some business venture with Modena, Ulla’s paramour, and he is in the chips, as our dear Lettie would say. He is now a significant dealer, in Colaba.’

I forced my face to remain impassive while jealous thoughts of handsome Maurizio, flushed with success, spiked their way into my mind. The rain started again, and I glanced outside to see people running, hitching up their pants and their saris to avoid the many puddles.

‘Just yesterday’ Didier went on, carefully tipping his tea from the cup into the saucer, and sipping it from the saucer as most of the slum-dwellers did, ‘Modena arrived in a chauffeured car, at Leopold’s, and Maurizio is wearing a ten-thousand-dollar Rolex watch. But…’

‘But?’ I prompted, when he paused to drink.

‘Well, there is terrible risk in their business. Maurizio is not always… honourable… in his business dealings. If he should upset the wrong people, there will be great violence.’

‘And what about you?’ I asked, changing the subject because I didn’t want Didier to see the serpent of spite rising in me when he spoke of the trouble that might be finding its way to Maurizio. ‘Aren’t you flirting with danger yourself? Your new… interest… is one string short of the full marionette, or so I’m told. He’s got a very bad temper, Lettie says, and a hair-trigger controlling it.’

‘Oh, him?’ he sniffed dismissively, turning down the corners of his expressive mouth. ‘Not at all. He is not dangerous. Although he is annoying, and annoying is worse than dangerous, n’est-ce pas? It is easier to live with a dangerous man than an annoying one.’

Prabaker went to buy three beedie cigarettes from Kumar’s shop counter, and lit them with the same match, holding them in one hand and burning the ends with the other. He passed one each to Didier and me, and sat down again, smoking contentedly.

‘Ah, yes, there is another piece of news-Kavita has taken a new job at a newspaper, The Noonday. She is a features writer. It is a job with much prestige, I understand, and a fast track to a sub-editor’s position. She won it in a field of many talented candidates, and she is very happy.’

‘I like Kavita,’ I felt moved to say.

‘You know,’ Didier offered, staring at the glowing end of his beedie and then looking up at me, genuinely surprised, ‘so do I.’

We laughed again, and I deliberately included Prabaker in the joke. Parvati watched us from the corners of her smouldering eyes.

‘Listen,’ I asked, seizing the momentary pause in our conversation, ‘does the name Hassaan Obikwa mean anything to you?’

Didier’s mention of Maurizio’s new, ten-thousand-dollar Rolex had reminded me of the Nigerian. I fished the gold-and-white business card from my shirt pocket, and handed it over.

‘But, of course!’ Didier replied. ‘This is a famous Borsalino. They call him The Body Snatcher, in the African ghetto.’

‘Well, that’s a good start,’ I muttered, a wry smile twisting my lips. Prabaker slapped at his thigh, and doubled over with near-hysterical laughter. I put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

‘They say that when Hassaan Obikwa snatches a body away, not even the devil himself can find it. They are never again seen by living men. Jamais! How do you come to know him? How did you get his card?’

‘I sort of, bumped into him, earlier today’ I answered, retrieving the card and slipping it into my pocket.