I want to go anyway. The movie’s over.
And all of a sudden he stopped arguing. Yes, he said. Agreed. Let’s go.
Cut.
George Harrison played sitar on “Within You Without You,” “Tomorrow Never Knows,” “Norwegian Wood,” and “Love You To.” The flights all left in the middle of the night so when they were packed and ready it was dark and they sat in the darkness and imagined George and Ravi Shankar sitting where they were sitting, making music. For a while they didn’t speak to each other but then they did.
I’ll tell you something my father told me when I was a young man, Apu said. My son, he said, the greatest force in the life of this country is not government or religion or the entrepreneurial instinct. It is briberyandcorruption. He said it like one word, like electromagnetism. Without briberyandcorruption nothing would happen. It is briberyandcorruption that oils the wheels of the nation, and it is also the solution to our nation’s problems. If there is terrorism? Sit down across the table with the terrorist boss and sign a blank check and push it across the table and say, put as many zeros as you like. Once he has pocketed the check the problem is over because in our country we understand that there is honor in briberyandcorruption. Once a man has been bought, he stays bought. My father was a realist. When one works at his level then some don or other will inevitably knock on your door, either offering a bribe or requesting one. There is no way of keeping your hands clean. In America it’s not so different, my father told me after the move across the oceans. Here also we have our Chicken Little, our Little Archie, our Crazy Fred, our Fat Frankie. They also believe in honor. So maybe the worlds are less different than we pretend.
He talked to you about this.
Not often, Apu said. But once or twice he made his briberyandcorruption speech. We all heard it a few times and knew it well. Beyond that I did not interfere.
How do you feel now that we’re leaving, so quickly. We met, what, two people. You never showed me where you went to school. We haven’t bought a pirate video. We haven’t been here yet.
I feel relieved.
Why relieved?
I don’t need to be here anymore.
And how do you feel about feeling relieved? That you’re pleased to be leaving? Isn’t that a strange feeling?
Not really.
Why?
Because I’ve come to believe in the total mutability of the self. That under the pressures of one’s life one can simply cease to be who one was and be just the person that one has become.
I don’t agree.
Our whole bodies change all the time. Our hair, our skin, everything. During the course of seven-year cycles every cell that makes us up is replaced by another cell. Every seven years we are one hundred percent not who we were. Why should this not also be the case with the self. It’s pretty much seven years since I left this place. I’m different now.
I’m not sure about the science on that.
I’m not talking about science. I’m talking about the soul. The soul that is not made of cells. The ghost in the machine. I’m saying that in time the old ghost moves out and a new ghost moves in.
So seven years from now I won’t know who you are.
And I won’t know who you are. Maybe we have to start over. Maybe we are inconstant. That’s just how it is.
Maybe.
Cut.
The night was humid. Even the crows were asleep. Sad-faced Mr. Brown and the other reservoir dogs were waiting out front, wearing shades in spite of the darkness.
We dismissed your taxi, Mr. Brown said. It is our duty to bring you to Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport, formerly Sahar.
That is annoying of you, Apu said. We don’t need you.
It will be our honor, Mr. Brown said. See, three Mercedes-Benz sedans are waiting. Lead car, your car and backup car. Please. Only the best for you, sirji. S-class Maybach, like a private jet for the road. This is written in the literature. I myself will accompany you in this primo vehicle.
The night city concealed its nature from him as he left it, turned its back on him as he had turned his back on it. The faces of the buildings were grim and closed. They crossed Mahim Bay on the Sea Link but then left the Western Express Highway too early, before the airport exit.
Why are you going this way, Apu Golden asked and then Mr. Brown turned around and took off his sunglasses and no answer was necessary.
It is a business matter, Mr. Brown said. It is not personal. It is a question of one client outbidding another. One client from whom there is no work since a long time versus another, regular customer. Sir, it is to send a message to your esteemed fatherji. He will understand the message, I am certain of it.
I don’t understand, Ubah cried. What message?
Mr. Brown replied gravely: The message says, your actions, sir, made things difficult for us, after we warned you not to act. But after you acted you put continents and oceans between us and we did not have the means or will to follow. But now you have unwisely allowed your son to come. That approximately is the communication. I offer my apologies, madam, you are an innocent bystander, isn’t it, you are collateral damage. It is my great regret.
The cars drove along an unimportant bridge across the Mithi River near the edges of the great Dharavi slum, and in the glistening silver Maybach the music was turned up very loud. Rich people enjoying themselves. What else. Why not. No question of any gunshots being heard. Anyway, the silencer was on.