"I am very fatigued, it is true," he said, managing a shrug of elaborate self-pity. "People do not understand the truly fantastic effort required in the corruption of a simple man. And the more simple the man, the more effort it requires. They do not realise what it takes out of me to put so much decadence into a man who is not born to it."
"You might be making a rod for your own back," I mocked.
"Each thing in its own time," he replied, smiling thoughtfully.
"But you, my friend, you look very well. Only a little, how shall I say it, lonely for information. And to that end, Didier is here. I have all the latest news and gossip for you. You know the difference between news and gossip, don't you? News tells you what people did. Gossip tells you how much they enjoyed it."
We both laughed, and Prabaker joined in, laughing so loudly that everyone in the chai shop turned to look at him.
"Well then," Didier continued, "where to start? Oh yes, Vikram's pursuit of Letitia proceeds with a certain bizarre inevitability.
She began by loathing him-"
"I think loathing is bit strong," I argued.
"Ah, yes, perhaps you're right. If she loathes me-and it is completely certain that she does, the dear and sweet English Rose - then her feeling for Vikram was indeed something less. Shall we say detest?"
"I think detest would cover it," I agreed.
"Et bien, she began by detesting him but, through the persistence of his devoted romantic attentions, he has managed to arouse in her what I can only describe as an amiable revulsion."
We laughed again, and Prabaker slapped at his thigh, hooting with such hilarity that every head turned toward him. Didier and I inspected him with quizzical looks of our own. He responded with an impish smile, but I noticed that his eyes darted away quickly to his left. Following the glance, I saw his new love, Parvati, preparing food in Kumar's kitchen. Her thick, black plait of hair was the rope by which a man might climb to heaven. Her petite figure-she was tiny, shorter even than Prabaker-was the perfect shape of his desire. Her eyes, when she turned in profile to look at us, were black fire.
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 hand- some 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."
