On the day after their wedding, I drove Vikram and Lettie to the airport. Their plan was to repeat the ceremony in London with Lettie's family. While Lettie phoned her mother to confirm their arrival time, Vikram seized the opportunity for a heart-to-heart with me.
"Thanks for the work you did on my passport, man," he grinned.
"That fuckin' drug conviction in Denmark-it's only a little thing, but it could've given me a big headache, yaar."
"No problem."
"And the dollars. That was a fuckin' good rate you got for us. I know you did a special deal on that, yaar, and I'll return the favour, somehow, when we get back."
"It's cool."
"You know, Lin, you really ought to settle down, man. I don't mean to jinx up your scene or anything. I'm only saying it as a friend, as a friend who loves you like a brother. You're heading for a big fall, man. I got a bad feeling. I... I think you should settle down, like." "Settle down..."
"Yeah, man. That's the whole point of it, yaar."
"The whole point of... what?"
"That's what the whole fuckin' game is all about. You're a man.
That's what a man has to do. I don't mean to get into your personal shit, but it's kind of sad that you don't know that already."
I laughed, but he held the serious frown.
"Lin, a man has to find a good woman, and when he finds her he has to win her love. Then he has to earn her respect. Then he has to cherish her trust. And then he has to, like, go on doing that for as long as they live. Until they both die. That's what it's all about. That's the most important thing in the world. That's what a man is, yaar. A man is truly a man when he wins the love of a good woman, earns her respect, and keeps her trust. Until you can do that, you're not a man."
"Tell that to Didier."
"No, man, you're not getting it. It's just the same for Didier, but with him it's a good guy he has to find and love. It's the same for all of us. What I'm trying to tell you is that you found a good woman. You found her already. Karla is a good woman, man.
And you earned her fuckin' respect. She told me a couple of times, man-about the cholera and all that in the zhopadpatti.
You knocked her out with all that Red Cross shit, man. She respects you! But you don't cherish her trust. You don't trust her, Lin, because you don't trust yourself. And I'm afraid for you, man. Without a good woman, a man like you-men like you and me-we're just asking for trouble, yaar."
Lettie approached us. The grim purpose dimmed in his eyes, washed away by the look of love he turned on her.
"They're calling our flight, Lin, me darlin'," she said. Her smile was sadder than I'd expected, and wounding, somehow, because of it. "We better go. Here, I want you to have this, as a present from both of us."
She handed me a folded strip of black cloth, about a metre long and a hand-span wide. When I opened it out I found a small card in the centre.
"It's the blindfold," she said. "You know, from the train, on the roof, the day Vikram proposed. We want you to have it-as a souvenir, you know. And on the card, that's Karla's address. She wrote to us. She's still in Goa, but in a different part. Just, you know, if you're interested. Goodbye, darlin'. Take care." I watched them leave, happy for them, but too busy with Khader's work and the preparations for Prabaker's wedding to give much thought to Vikram's advice. Then the visit to Anand, the last visit, had pushed Vikram's voice even deeper into the choir of competing speeches, warnings, and opinions. But as I sat alone in my apartment on the night of Prabaker's wedding, and took the note and the black strip of the blindfold from my pocket, I remembered every word he'd said to me. I sipped at a drink and smoked cigarettes in a silence so profound that I could hear the susurrus of the blindfold's soft fabric rustle and slip between my fingers. The seductive, bell-bejewelled dancers had been escorted to their bus, and paid a respectful bonus. Prabaker and Johnny had led their brides away to taxis that waited to take them to a simple but comfortable hotel on the outskirts of the city. For two nights they would know the joys of private love before their public loves in the crowded slums resumed. Vikram and Lettie were already in London, preparing to repeat the vows that meant everything to my cowboy-obsessed friend. And I was sitting in the armchair, fully dressed and alone, not trusting her, as Vikram said, because I didn't trust myself. Then at last, when I drifted to sleep, the note and the strip of blindfold slipped from my fingers.
