Shantaram полностью

‘No, no, you do not understand. You must be careful, here, with the real affection of those you meet. This is not like any other place. This is India. Everyone who comes here falls in love-most of us fall in love many times over. And the Indians, they love most of all. Your little friend may be beginning to love you. There is nothing strange in this. I say it from a long experience of this country, and especially of this city. It happens often, and easily, for the Indians. That is how they manage to live together, a billion of them, in reasonable peace. They are not perfect, of course. They know how to fight and lie and cheat each other, and all the things that all of us do. But more than any other people in the world, the Indians know how to love one another.’

He paused to light a cigarette, and then waved it like a little flagpole until the waiter noticed him and nodded to his request for another glass of vodka.

‘India is about six times the size of France,’ he went on, as the glass of alcohol and a bowl of curried snacks arrived at our table. ‘But it has almost twenty times the population. Twenty times! Believe me, if there were a billion Frenchmen living in such a crowded space, there would be rivers of blood. Rivers of blood! And, as everyone knows, we French are the most civilised people in Europe. Indeed, in the whole world. No, no, without love, India would be impossible.’

Letitia joined us at our table, sitting to my left.

‘What are you on about now, Didier, you bastard?’ she asked companionably, her South London accent giving the first syllable of the last word an explosive ring.

‘He was just telling me that the French are the most civilised people in the world.’

‘As all the world knows,’ he added.

‘When you produce a Shakespeare, out of your villes and vineyards, mate, I might just agree with you,’ Lettie murmured through a smile that seemed to be warm and condescending in equal parts.

‘My dear, please do not think that I disrespect your Shakespeare,’ Didier countered, laughing happily. ‘I love the English language, because so much of it is French.’

‘Touché,’ I grinned, ‘as we say in English.’

Ulla and Modena arrived at that moment, and sat down. Ulla was dressed for work in a small, tight, black, halter-neck dress, fishnet stockings, and stiletto-heel shoes. She wore eye-dazzling fake diamonds at her throat and ears. The contrast between her clothing and Lettie’s was stark. Lettie wore a fine, bone-coloured brocade jacket over loose, dark-brown satin culottes, and boots. Yet the faces of the two women produced the strongest and most unexpected contrast. Lettie’s gaze was seductive, direct, self-assured, and sparkling with ironies and secrets, while Ulla’s wide blue eyes, for all the make-up and clothing of her professional sexuality, showed nothing but innocence-honest, vacuous innocence.

‘You are forbidden to speak to me, Didier,’ Ulla said at once, pouting inconsolably ‘I have had a very disagreeable time with Federico-three hours-and it is all your fault.’

‘Bah!’ Didier spat out. ‘Federico!’

‘Oh,’ Lettie joined in, making three long sounds out of one. ‘Something’s happened to the beautiful young Federico, has it? Come on, Ulla me darlin’, let’s have all the gossip.’

‘Naja, Federico has got a religion, and he is driving me crazy about it, and it is all Didier’s fault.’

‘Yes!’ Didier added, clearly disgusted. ‘Federico has found religion. It is a tragedy. He no longer drinks or smokes or takes drugs. And of course he will not have sex with anyone-not even with himself! It is an appalling waste of talent. The man was a genius of the corruptions, my finest student, my masterwork. It is maddening. He is now a good man, in the very worst sense of the word.’

‘Well, you win a few, you lose a few,’ Lettie sighed with mock sympathy. ‘You mustn’t let it get you down, Didier. There’ll be other fish for you to fry and gobble up.’

‘Your sympathy should be for me,’ Ulla chided. ‘Federico came from Didier in such a bad mood yesterday, he was at my door today in tears. Scheisse! Wirklich! For three hours he cried and he raved at me about being born again. In the end I felt so sorry for him. It was only with a great suffering that I let Modena throw him and his bible books onto the street. It’s all your fault, Didier, and I will take the longest time to forgive you for it.’

‘Fanatics,’ Didier mused, ignoring the rebuke, ‘always seem to have the same scrubbed and staring look about them. They have the look of people who do not masturbate, but who think about it almost all the time.’

‘I really do love you, you know, Didier,’ Lettie stuttered, through her bubbling laughter. ‘Even if you are a despicable toad of a man.’

‘No, you love him because he is a despicable toe of a man,’ Ulla declared.