Meeting Max (26 page)

“I think that if your son is in Bombay, Mr. Rick, he will choose to live in Colaba. It is the island where everything is happening. Come, I know a nice place for lunch, if you would like.”

“Is there a restaurant near here?”

“Everything you want in Colaba is near. Come.”

They walked about one block until they arrived at a Kebab cart on the street. Rajit ordered lamb kebob, and Rick enjoyed paneer masala with some roti. They sat at a small wooden table and talked.

“The food is good here, Rajit. I see you know all the fine places.”

“Yes. We will have first-class dining together without spending much money. Maybe for dinner, I take you to a place that will be making the best Bombay duck.”

“Well, I don’t eat poultry either, but I’ll try it if you say it’s good.”

“Ah, Mr. Rick,” he said, beaming. “Bombay duck is not a duck. It is a fish, a lizardfish. We call it
bumallo
. I cannot say it is good because you may have a different taste about these things, but you may like it.”

After lunch, they went to the waterfront to see the Gateway to India, a yellow, basalt arched monument built during the British Raj era to welcome royalty arriving from the sea. The last of the British troops had departed India from the port.

On their way to the record shops, they drove past the Mahalaxmi Dhobi Ghat and stopped. Rajit stated it was a place that could not be found anywhere else in the world. It was an open air laundry where people sent their dirty clothes and bedding to be washed by washer men called
dhobis
.

They spent the entire day up to their knees in water scrubbing, beating the dirt out of the laundry, then drying it in the sun. For all this hard work, they earned less than three US dollars for the day, but it was their profession that had been learned and passed down from generation to generation, a profession they were proud of.

They visited music shops and explored hundreds of CDs as they searched for the names of recording engineers on the paper sleeves inside the jewel cases, but they found none.

“Mr. Rick, sir, I think it would be a Himalayan blunder for us to continue in this direction. We must move on to nightclubs and Film City. Some of the performers must know your son. It is very expensive to take a tour of Bollywood, but not for us. I have friends there and we can do it for no money. Maybe we will see Shruthi Hassan. She is very beautiful actress, with long black hair and light brown eyes. Of all the actresses, she is the most beautiful. Very beautiful, Mr. Rick.”

“So, is she beautiful?”

“Yes, sir, that is what I am saying…ah, I see you smiling, sir.”

“I hope we get to see this beauty.”

“Yes, it is possible, but first we must find your son. That is the most important thing. I think the nightclubs will be very good for us to do until we can get to the Black Cat.”

***

Later in the evening, they stopped at another food stand for dinner and walked along the waterfront across from the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. At about eleven, they went to Polly Esther’s Disco at the Gordon House Hotel. The place was rocking off the wall when they walked in. Everyone was high-spirited and in synch with the music. All their heads bobbed up and down at the same time to the music played by a DJ with a booming sound system.

There was a big sign on the wall with only one word in red on a white background:
Polly
. There was another large sign taped to a mirror across the room that said
Esther’s
in glittering gold letters. The loud music and deafening drumbeat forced Rick and Rajit to speak directly into each other’s ears. Rick asked Rajit why he picked this place.

“It is a very good here, Mr. Rick, sir. Popular, especially for young people, as you can see, and it is a very friendly place. Also, I have a cousin-brother that works here. He knows many people in the music business. Maybe he can help us. He has a good sense of humor, too, and loves to pull your legs. You will like him.”

Rajit tugged Rick through the crowd until he met Narahari, his cousin-brother, and introduced him to Rick. It was hard to find a quiet place to talk, but they settled into a few chairs at a cocktail table in a corner of the bar area, where the music was not as deafening.

“So, my friends,” Narahari began, “what is it you want to be discussing? I only have a short time, but if you want to meet me at my home, it will be okay. I hope you did not come on the bus, Rajit. It would be very slow with so much traffic.”

“I did not, Narahari. We came by my car and it was not a problem. My good and special friend, Rick, is searching for his son, who is a recording engineer. His name is Eric Anderson and we have not found the names of any recording engineers on CD or DVD jacket inserts, just the musical group and titles of the songs, so maybe recording engineers are not listed.”

“Mostly it is true, but not always. Smaller record companies put many names on the jacket insert. If he is very good at what he does, he will be working for a small recording company. They make quality CDs and DVDs. I know the name, Eric. I have seen it on a few labels, but I don’t remember any last name. Have you put it on Google to find out?”

“Yes, we did all those things, my cousin, but nothing.”

“How does he spell his first name, Rick?”

“E-r-i-c,” he answered.

“Maybe I saw it spelled another way. I will ask around and call you. There are many recording studios in Bombay and I will check them out. Some names may show with much misspellings, especially if person is a foreigner or if an engineer changes his name.

“The small studios of high quality are Decibel 99, First Class Mastering, RBCB studios, and another even smaller one is very pricey. It is Black Cat Studio. I don’t think there will be a problem to find him, if he is in Bombay. I am sorry, I must go. I will make inquiries. Please, when you see your wife, Rajit, convey her my greetings.”

Rick’s heart skipped a beat when he heard Black Cat. That was his main lead, and he was sure that, with a bit more information, he would be well on his way to locating Eric.

***

Rick slept well that night, and, in the morning, Rajit took him to places he maintained were important.

“Why do you think it’s good for me to learn about the different districts here?”

“Oh, Mr. Rick, it is of the extreme importance. Each part of Bombay has its own personality. You must know it to learn these things about Bombay. Only when you soak up your surroundings will you have knowledge and feelings about things. Each district of Bombay will sing a different song to you. When we stop to listen, you learn something that cannot be taught. These things will lead you to your son. I know it is true.”

“I trust you, Rajit.”

“Yes, Mr. Rick, sir. Today will be a good day for us,” he said with assurance. “First, we will look around Bombay, and later we will have lunch at a very good street stall, the best Maharashtrian food. Trust me, you will have yummy tummy for sure.

“When it gets late, I will take you to a place where another cousin-brother will help. But first, you must experience something you will never find anywhere, and you will learn something.”

They walked along Marine Drive, a major boulevard in South Bombay. It was a cool and sunny day. They ambled along its curved walkway, where the land touched the sea and seemed to go on for miles. They looked out at the water and watched the crests on the water sparkle under the bright sun. Rajit brought him to an outdoor area to see the standing Babas, Hindus who vowed to stand for many years.

“They do not sit or lie down, even to sleep,” Rajit explained. “This is self-inflicted corporal punishment to bring enlightenment, or maybe punishment, because of harm they caused.”

“Can I talk to one or two of them?”

“Yes, Mr. Rick, sir, but would be nice if you offer some
baksheesh
.”

Rick approached one of the men who had a long black beard and wore a white turban connected to a white cotton robe which went down to his bare feet. His arms were leaning over a cushioned wooden board held up by four bamboo rods connected to a wooden ceiling.

“
Namaste
,” Rick said, drawing out the word in singsong fashion. “
Kya hall hai
,” he added, “How is everything? Please tell me what inspired you to stand for so long.”

Rajit was nearby to translate, although Rick was able to understand a few words of Marathi.

“I had a spiritual teacher,” the man explained, “who asked me to bake him some roti, and I didn’t know how to do it because I had no tandoor oven. I told him I would try to make it in a pan, but I knew that was not possible for me because it could only be made properly in a tandoor. I tried to make it in the pan, but it burned.”

“What did the man say after you did that?”

“He didn’t say anything. He pushed me down to the floor and kicked me hard all over my body, broke my ribs, and left me lying on the floor bleeding.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. What did you do?”

“I had to prove to myself that I was strong inside, and stronger than him, so I made a vow that I would stand for ten years. At the end of that time, I will know I am stronger than him, and, perhaps, find enlightenment.”

“I see. Enlightenment is a goal many seek. What do you do when you get tired?”

“When one leg tires, I put it in a sling that hangs from above to rest it until the other leg tires and is in pain.”

“I understand. Then the other leg goes in the sling. How do you go to the toilet?”

The man spoke through his toothless mouth in a scratchy voice. “I spread my legs and lean over a little with my left hand on my knee and my right elbow on the other knee and hold my face in my right hand.”

“I see. It is not easy to do that. Do you find fulfillment in your life?”

“I find it in my
search
for enlightenment, and I do many things. I am riding on the motorcycle when someone is driving it, and I am standing behind him. I can do everything, but I must keep my vow.”

Rick handed him some rupees and bowed in respect. He turned to another man, also with a white turban and long cotton robe that hung down to his feet. The man had a constant smile when he talked, showing his shiny white teeth with several spaces in between.

Rick greeted the man. “
Namaste dost
. May I ask why you do not sit down?”

“My spiritual teacher told me I should keep standing to please him, and I took a vow that I would stand for eleven years. I have been standing now for five years, so I am listening to him. It is not so bad. When my legs hurt, I have a friend who massages them.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Yes, but it is a good pain because if I expose my body to extreme pain and hardship, it will burn off all the bad karma in the cycle of my life and death. Every moment I stand gives me a better incarnation.”

“Did you ever want to just stop and lie down?”

“
Naa
, I cannot sit because God is watching. Also people is watching me sit. They will see me and I will be shamed. I get used to standing, and I do not think of it. It is natural for me to do it. I stand on one leg and hold the other leg up with my hand, first one leg for a while, then the other.”

“And when you sleep, how do you do it?”

The man held up a gray blanket. “I cover my head and lean my head over on my cushion on the table and sleep.”

“Is that a great hardship for you?”

“You can only find God through hardship. There is no other way.”

Rajit and Rick left the standing Babas. Rajit asked him what he thought about them.

“I will keep them in my mind forever,” Rick answered.

Maybe hardship is a path. Maybe karma is real...there is so much I don’t know.

“I hope we find my son, Rajit. I have so much pain in my life now. I need something good to happen.”

“I am knowing how you feel, sir. I will work very hard for you to make that happen. Narahari called me this morning to say that he has put the word out to everyone in the music business about Eric and said he will make extreme efforts to find him.”

“I like the sound of your voice today. It sounds peaceful. You remind me of something I read.”

“I do feel peaceful today walking with you on this beautiful, sunny day. The world is kind today. I know the pain you are feeling and how difficult it is for you.”

“Did you ever read the book or see the movie
Passage to India
?”

“No, sir. I am not knowing this book.”

“Well, it takes place in the twenties in India, under the British Raj. One of the characters in the book is Mrs. Moore, who is a good-natured Christian woman. She has a strong sense of equality and is upset by the bad treatment of the Indians by the British. Her husband was a British officer.

“In the book, she is at her husband’s club during a gathering of British officers in uniform and women who were dressed to the nines. Everyone was loud and getting drunk as hors d’oeuvres were served. Mrs. Moore didn’t feel that she wanted to be part of the party scene and decided to take a walk in the garden.”