An excerpt: Like, Misunderstood - the hip novel

October 22, 2007

Chapter 117: Holy Moses

I edge down a crowded lane and pick out an old building with a small

dirty sign above saying, ‘Lucky Travel, 3rd Floor.’ LUCKY turns out to

be an Indian gangster, about 30 years-old, sitting behind his funky

desk inside a dingy office. He looks through some passports in a desk

drawer, selects one and hands it across the desk to me.

‘Vell, Mr. Hrisikesh, here is an American passport. Please have a

look.’

I open up the passport. It’s unsigned, and the picture is of someone

else, an American-looking guy with a big grin exposing a gap where his

front left tooth is missing.

‘You can sign by yourself,’ Lucky instructs me.

‘What about the picture? His tooth is missing.’

Lucky looks kind and merciful. ‘Hmmm, vell, Mr. Hrisikesh, you can have

your tooth removed, no?’

‘What?’ That doesn’t sound too good. ‘Uh, umm, ah, well I could have my

tooth capped. You know, with a silver cap. What do you think?’

‘Yes! Vonderful! Very good!’

OK, down to business – India style. ‘So how much?’

He smiles broadly. ‘Oh! For my very good friend, Mr. Shyam, and for you

that vill be seven thousand five hundred rupees only.’

‘What? Listen, that's way too much.’

Lucky assumes the unmistakable look of a dog-faced liar. ‘But Mr.

Hrisikesh, my cost is more than seven thousand five hundred, so already

I am losing money! For Mr. Shyam I am losing.’

‘But Shyam told me you sold passports for around five hundred.’

‘Vell, it can be. But this passport is special.’

‘What's so special?’ I ask.

Lucky looks serious. ‘But you can see, Mr. Hrisikesh, the tooth is

missing! And it is unsigned. Anyway my cost is much more that I am

selling you, so last price is seven thousand only. For Mr. Shyam I am

ready to lose more five hundred rupees.’

Jeez. ‘But Lucky, I don't want the tooth missing! Anyway, that's too

much.’

‘Ahh rey!’ Lucky says with a frustrated look. ‘I am losing money! So,

how much you will pay?’

‘Listen,’ I reason, ‘I can only pay at most seven hundred rupees.’

He takes on a shocked expression. ‘Oh, my God! I am losing fortunes!’

Then he suddenly smiles, and shaking his head says, ‘But, for my good

friend Shyam, I am prepared to make sacrifice. Very well, seven hundred

rupees.’

I take out some cash rupees from my bag. I count out seven hundred and

hand the money to Lucky.

‘Mr. Hrisikesh, you are most fortunate to know Mr. Shyam, othervise I

vill never make such a huge loss!’

‘I'll tell Shyam. He'll be happy. Thanks.’

I then flip through the pages of the passport – they’re all blank, no

stamps. ‘But Lucky! There's no like entrance visa in this passport? How

can I use it?’

‘Never mind, Mr. Hrisikesh. So you must be getting visa.’

‘Where? From who?’

Lucky draws me closer. ‘Vell, you must go to dark quarter. I will

direct you. There you must meet one very big man.’

‘Who?’

‘Moses,’ he replies, with a broad smile.

Holy Moses! And where to meet Moses? OK, I’m walking the crowded and

colorful lanes of Bombay’s grossed-out red-light district. Houses of

gaudy fat prostitutes line both sides. The bloated whores beckon me to

come in. It’s a friggen maze.

Finally I locate the gaudy dive Lucky has directed me to. I push apart

the beads hanging in the doorway and enter. Inside the whorehouse a few

young but mostly fat Indian ladies dressed in saris are lying around on

pillows. The place is dingily lit with a single fly-specked red bulb.

There are sheets and saris hanging drying over the inner balcony rails.

It is really colorful and gaudy.

A fat hooker, covered in makeup, approaches me. ‘Hello, gentleman!

Velcome to house of pleasure. How can ve serve you?’

‘Thanks. Listen, I'm looking for Moses. Is he here?

‘Moses?’ She gets a little indignant. ‘Vhy, you don't like me?’

‘Yeah! I mean, sure I like you. I'm from Lucky. He said Moses was

expecting me.’

She indicates with a nod to follow her. We pass through another beaded

doorway into a gaudy office. The walls are covered with pictures of

Bombay movie stars with autographs. There is a large desk. Behind the

desk is a huge, fat Indian man, a cross between Humpty Dumpty and the

Wizard of Oz.

He grunts and stands halfway up to receive me. ‘Ah, you must be

Hrisikesh. Lucky called me that you vere coming.’

‘Yeah! And you must be Moses.’

I pull out the passport and hand it over. ‘I need an entry stamp. Lucky

said you could do it.’

Moses takes the passport and opens it. ‘Yes, I can do. But it will be

difficult and costly.’

I’m like, ‘Really? How about I give you these?’ I pull the four rough

rubies that Gary gave me and place them on top of Moses' desk.

Moses motions for me to sit down. ‘Kind sir, please be seated. What is

this?’

‘Rubies. Rough rubies.’

Moses’s eyes get big. ‘Aa chaa! Rubies! Where from you have got these?’

‘I'm sorry, that's a secret.’

‘Secret? Hmmm! I see, so you are giving to me?’

I shrug. ‘Well for an entry visa stamp. I can't use this passport

without it. Can you do it?

‘As I told you, it is very difficult.’ He gazes greedily at the stones

in the desk light. ‘But, I think I can find the way.’

Moses opens his drawer, pulls out a stamp pad, pulls out a stamp, then

he stamps the pad, and then stamps a page in my new passport. He takes

a smaller date stamp and turns the numbers back and stamps the visa

date. He then takes his pen and signs his stamp. With a big smile Moses

gives the passport back to me. ‘Yes! Mr. Hrisikesh! Now you can use.’

I take the passport and look at the official stamp from Bombay

immigration. ‘Wow, Moses, I thought you said it was hard?’

‘Yes, it is very difficult! But you see, I am Moses!’

I’m thinking, yeah, now I know how the Red Sea was parted – you friggen

jumped in!

‘Thank you for the rubies,’ he says merrily. ‘Would you like one of my

lovely girls?’

I’m really tempted (har har har). ‘Ummm, I don't think so, Moses. I

have a plane to catch. But thanks anyway.’

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Send instant messages to your online friends http://uk.messenger.

October 23, 2007

yeah your book sounds really good Richard. I really like the

anecdote. well I am sure the rest of the book is a good read.

sincerely,

__________

Raja G. Gursahani

(: 314.761.3134 (Clovis, CA)

,: rajagursahani(atgmail.com)

October 23, 2007

Hello, Do let us know the ISBN and the publisher please. Best Regards, Jay Raja Gursahani <rajagursahani wrote: yeah your book sounds really good Richard. I really like the anecdote. well I am sure the rest of the book is a good read. sincerely, __________ Raja G. Gursahani (: 314.761.3134 (Clovis, CA),: rajagursahani(atgmail.com)