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What on earth was happening? 147 regular under-the-table deliveries and nothing ever went wrong. This wasn’t really the stuff they were looking out for, this was dirt cheap stuff – black, and meant for the poorer sections of society. Besides, Ratnagiri was the last place you’d expect a tip off. Damn it. The hot cake had landed me in hot water. I’d left a trace somewhere. They’ve been following me everywhere. Thriving off the incompetence of the Maharashtra police has always been my modus operandi.
Think. Think. Think.
It’s always a gamble isn’t it?
Listening to rappers for advice?
Get rich or die trying. Had to admit though, going down to Tupac beats going down to Kanye anyday. It’s all becoming clearer now. Yep. Featured as the greatest smuggle in history on the last page of the TIME magazine (20 questions just after the awesome column).
Interviewer: Who inspired you the most?
Me : Kanye
Interviewer :
Me : Hey hey wait, where you headed? I thought it was 20 questions we just got done with one
Interviewer: *voice fading* Headed east. A direction I’m afraid you must not be aware of.
Crystal Raju’s Beer Bar.
Standing outside the dark glass windows, the anxiety was growing, up and up. Steady gulps as only the liars do followed suit. I honestly hadn’t foreseen this. I couldn’t go down like this. NO. I wasn’t going to give up. Got to do this for the lives that depend on it and the lives that were sacrificed for it.
Run. Run. RUN.
I know what I’m doing is wrong. Terribly wrong even. But you HAVE to try this stuff. Oh my word, it literally is the stuff of the gods, it’s holy.
Jail time. That’s what I was looking at, but oh, the thrill. The locales weren’t fancy, it wasn’t Miami or La Paz but trust me, what you get at crystal Raju’s, you won’t get elsewhere. (read diarrhea + hepatitis)
I was a coward for running but it’s all I could do. Still couldn’t come to terms with my predicament. I thought of all the people that mattered to me (cliche)- Raju. Shit, that got over quick. Everything whizzed by until suddenly ‘Thamba’ and ahead of me was the stocky laddu-stuffed temple priest. No way. “Kaka zaoun de kaka.” Chup nalayak. Too late.
Handcuffed from behind.
“That’s a good piece of meat you got there.”
HUH?
“I’m afraid possession of beef is a crime under the Maharashtra Animal Preservation (Amendment) Act.”
Oh.
So much at steak and I’d ruined it all.
