Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts Read Free Book Online

hair, and white, bushy eyebrows. He sat behind a solid wooden counter, surrounded by bomb-blast radios, eviscerated cassette players, and boxes of parts. Prabaker greeted him, chattering in rapid Hindi, and passed the bottle of whisky over the counter. Mr. Deshpande slapped a meaty hand on it, without looking at it, and slid it out of sight on his side of the counter. He took a sheaf of rupee notes from his shirt pocket, peeled off a number, and passed them across with his palm turned downward. Prabaker took the money and slipped it into his pocket with a movement as swift and fluid as the tentacle-grab of a squid. He finished talking, at last, and beckoned me forward.
    "This is my very good friend," he informed Mr. Deshpande, patting me on the arm. "He is from New Zealand."
    Mr. Deshpande grunted.
    "He is just today coming in Bombay. India Guest House, he is staying."
    Mr. Deshpande grunted again. He studied me with a vaguely hostile curiosity.
    "His name is Lin. Mr. Linbaba," Prabaker said.
    "What's his name?" Mr. Deshpande asked.
    "Lin," Prabaker grinned. "His name is Linbaba."
    Mr. Deshpande raised his impressive eyebrows in a surprised smile.
    "Linbaba?"
    "Oh, yes!" Prabaker enthused. "Lin. Lin. Very fine fellow, he is also."
    Mr. Deshpande extended his hand, and I shook it. We greeted one another, and then Prabaker began to tug at my sleeve, pulling me towards the doorway.
    "Linbaba!" Mr. Deshpande called out, as we were about to step into the street. "Welcome in Bombay. You have any Walkman or camera or any ghetto-blasting machine for selling, you come to me, Sanjay Deshpande, at Radio Sick. I am giving best prices."
    I nodded, and we left the shop. Prabaker dragged me a few paces further along the street, and then stopped.
    "You see, Mr. Lin? You see how he likes it your name?"
    "I guess so," I muttered, bewildered as much by his enthusiasm as by the brief exchange with Mr. Deshpande. When I got to know him well enough, when I began to cherish his friendship, I discovered that Prabaker believed with the whole of his heart that his smile made a difference, in people's hearts and in the world. He was right, of course, but it took me a long time to understand that truth, and to accept it.
    "What's the baba part, at the end of the name? Lin, I can understand. But what's the Linbaba bit all about?"
    "Baba is just a respecting name," Prabaker grinned. "If we put baba up on the back of your name, or on the name of anybody special, it is like meaning the respect we give it to a teacher, or a holy persons, or a very old, old, old-"
    "I get it, I get it, but it doesn't make me any more comfortable with it, Prabu, I gotta tell ya. This whole penis thing... I don't know."
    "But you did see, Mr. Sanjay Deshpande! You did see how he liked it your name! Look, see how the people love this name. You see now, you look, I will tell it to everybody! Linbaba! Linbaba!
    Linbaba!"
    He was speaking in a shout, addressing strangers as they passed us on the street.
    "All right, Prabu, all right. I take your word for it. Calm down." It was my turn to tug at his sleeve, and move him along the street. "I thought you wanted to _drink the whisky?"
    "Ah, yes," he sighed, "was wanting it, and was already drinking it in my mind also. But now, Linbaba, with this money from selling your good present to Mr. Sanjay, I can buy two bottles of very bad and nicely cheap Indian whisky, to enjoy, and plenty of money left for one nice new shirt, red colour, one tola of good charras, tickets for enjoying air condition Hindi picture, and two days of foods. But wait, Linbaba, you are not eating it your paan. You must put it now in the side of your mouth and chew it, before it is getting stale and not good for taste."
    "Okay, how do I do it? Like this?"
    I put the leaf-wrapped parcel, almost the size of a matchbox, into the side of my mouth between the cheek and the teeth, as I'd seen the others do. Within seconds, a suffusion of aromatic sweetnesses possessed my