Meeting Max

by Richard Brumer

  “My wife and I will be of great help to you. If your son is in Bombay, we will find him. There is no doubt,” Bahula assured him.

  Madhur leaned forward with sincerity in her eyes. “We are very familiar with all the areas of Bombay and most of Maharashtra. We also know people who live a little outside of the law who will help us. What is your son’s good name?”

  “It’s Eric. Thank you, I will be happy to pay you.”

  “Please, please do not say these things,” Bahula replied, shaking his head. “Family is the most important thing to an Indian person. We did what we needed to do to provide our children with a good education and help them find a proper partner in marriage, so we understand everything about these things. Because you have crossed our path and asked our help to find your child, we will give of ourselves freely and will help you. Please, tell us what you know about him.”

  “Thank you for your kind words. I believe he may be working in Bombay as a recording engineer.”

  “So, he works with musicians. What does he do exactly?”

  “I’m not sure about the details, but he must use sophisticated equipment to make a recording flawless.”

  “How can we help you?” Bahula inquired.

  “I would like to find a knowledgeable driver who speaks English and knows every part of Bombay. It would be good if he was a musician himself or he knows places where groups of musicians and singers make recordings. He must also have a good understanding of the importance of my search.”

  “It is not a problem,” Madhur said in her soft voice. “Please believe us when we say that. If your son is in Bombay, you will find him. I know such a man, and my husband and I, we are thinking of the same person right now.”

  “Yes, it is Rajit,” Bahula added. “He is a very good friend of ours and will help you. Rajit drives an auto rickshaw and he sometimes takes tourists to look around Bombay. He knows all of the city. He plays the guitar, the sitar, and perhaps some other instruments, I don’t know, but I do know he plays and sings with many bands here in Bombay, so that will be a good thing.

  “He is from a fine family. He will help you find your child, and his English is very good. He went to the University of Mumbai, so he is well-educated. He works hard because he has to support a large family.”

  “Bahula, when should we call him?” Rick asked.

  “I will call his mobile tonight and see when he can come. He will be a very good man for you, so it would be good to see to his expenses.”

  “I will do more than see to his expenses, my friends. From what you say, Rajit is the right person. I will do right by him.”

  “And please count on us to help you as well,” Bahula said. “We ask nothing in return but your friendship, and, when you find Eric, we will be honored to prepare a special meal.”

  Bahula made the call. Rajit said he would arrive the following morning. Meanwhile, Madhur excused herself. She had to arise early to take care of the house and do the cooking.

  “Bahula, I can’t thank you enough for what you are doing. I should have come directly to Bombay from the US. He would probably have been attracted to Bollywood to earn a living here. When I reserved my air flight, I only knew of Delhi and did not know that Mumbai was Bombay.”

  “Do not blame yourself for any bad judgments.” Bahula shook his head.

  “Yes, you’re right, but I’m glad I’m here in Bombay with you. My friend, Permanand, guided me through Delhi. He was a wonderful person. He spoke to many people and leaders of rock groups for information about my son. Two people thought they knew his name and believed he was in Bombay.”

  “Yes, yes, it must be true,” Bahula said.

  It was still early. They talked for an hour, and Rick told Bahula the whole story about Eric. He told him about Julie and shared his feelings about Elena and how she enabled him to open his heart to love once again. Tears came to Bahula’s eyes when Rick told him how she had died in his arms.

  “I am so sorry, my friend. The agony must be terrible for you. She will be in your heart always. We have read about the incident at the airport in Jaisalmer. It was a terrible tragedy.

  “It is my pleasure to help. Would you like a cognac before you retire? I have a very fine Remy. It is quite good.”

  “Thank you, Bahula, but I’m exhausted from the day. Perhaps tomorrow night.”

  “I will look forward to it.”

  Rick showered and then fell into a deep sleep in his clean, air-cooled room.

  It was late morning when he awoke. Tea, crumpets and a newspaper awaited him on the patio. The Mumbai Mirror contained an article about the terrorism that transpired in Jaisalmer. It mentioned that India’s external intelligence agency, the Research and Analysis Wing, was investigating the matter. Rick was reading about it when Bahula came to join him with the good news that Rajit would soon arrive.

  “He will be your dedicated servant. I have spoken to him. You must understand that Bombay is a safe place, and you do not have to be afraid. There are some places where you have to be careful, but very few. Rajit will look after that.”

  “I’m sure he will, but I heard about the Indian Mafia and…”

  “You are not to worry about these things. You will be invisible to this group of people. They are not interested in you. They are concerned only in their drug business, diamond smuggling, and maybe some connection to the Indian Cinema, but they are not interested in you or me.”

  “That’s good to know. I’ve heard stories about the slum areas. Are they safe places?”

  “Yes, very safe. It is unfortunate that thousands of people must live that way, but no harm will come to you as long as you are with Rajit. You will be alarmed when you see these people living there with the rats, but for them the rats perform a service and eat all the scraps and garbage and keep the place a little cleaner.”

  “I could never live with rats.”

  “Yes, you are not used to that life, and you could never adapt to it. If you go there, you must know that you cannot change things for them. You cannot fix their lives. You can only embrace it.”

  “Still, seeing poverty and beggar ladies with their babies bothers me. I don’t know how to deal with it emotionally.”

  “Poverty is not a good thing. Indians are used to it, and the mafia makes money off it. The baby you see in the mother’s arms is a baby that is passed around from woman to woman to get the sympathy from tourists.”

  “I’ve been told that, but the slums…”

  “I think the slums will change for the better in the future. Real estate people have been looking at that land for a few years now to make high rises and exclusive hotels. They will buy that land cheap. Maybe they will give some money to the people living there so they might have better lives. Maybe. I do not know.”

  Rajit arrived and Madhur showed him into the living room, where Bahula and Rick joined him. The three men enjoyed Hayward’s beer and poppadum crisps as they talked about the places Rick had visited in India.

  Rajit was a soft-spoken young man, about thirty-five years old. He was slim with the usual black shiny hair and mustache. He had grown up in Bombay and his wife was a concierge at the Taj Mahal Palace and Tower. He had four children who were very different from each other. The older ones, he said, knew everything and the younger ones felt everything. Their grandparents looked after them while Rajit and his wife were working.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rick, sir, for allowing me to help you. Bahula told me your needs, why you are here, and about the recent tragedies in your life. I am so sorry. I know Bombay well and know many musicians and musical groups. I am active myself making music, and sometimes work at the Oberoi. It is an elegant hotel with classy rooms.

  “I speak very well in Marathi, Hindi, and English. I am in that hotel about two times in one month, playing the sitar in the Champagne Lounge. I play in a corner as the guest’s sip their champagne while the colors of my music flow through the air and blend with the sun as it sinks into the Arabian Sea. It is a beau
tiful sight.”

  “You’re a very poetic man, Rajit.”

  “What is life without a little poetry in it, sir?”

  “True. There is poetry in almost everything we see and do. Sunrises, sunsets, and the look of love on the face of your woman. They are everyday things, but you have to see the beauty in it to feel the poetry.”

  “I think we will get along well, Mr. Rick. Indeed, quite well.”

  “I know we will. How do you think we should start?”

  “It would be my pleasure to accompany you to the music shops here in Bombay and look at the inserts that come with the DVDs, but I do not think recording engineers are very many times listed. The shops in Bombay sometimes have different music recordings than in Delhi.”

  “Well, it sounds like a good start, but we must include a visit to the Black Cat studio. I believe they know of Eric and it would put us in motion.”

  Rajit called the studio immediately and received a message that they would be opening again in two days.

  “We will go there as soon as they are available. Yes, we will do that. If he is here, we will find him. Please know that. I have much knowledge of Bombay and where are the nightclubs and Bollywood studios, here, and in all of Maharashtra.”

  “I have good feelings, Rajit. Will you commit your time to me for a week, and if so, how much do I pay you?”

  “It is much work and expenses for one week, twenty-four hours a day. We can agree on eight thousand rupees and you pay for the baksheesh to people when it is required.”

  “That’s more than fair, Rajit, and I will add our meals together as well.”

  “Dhanyāvad, it will be good. During the day, we will visit some music shops, talk to people who can tell us things, and at night, the nightclubs to talk to the musicians. We can exchange our mobile numbers. You can please call me at anytime. For today, sir, we can look around Bombay, and tonight visit a nightclub where we will find live musicians or a DJ who can help us.”

  In addition to an auto rickshaw, Rajit had a sedan with a black body and bright yellow top. He took Rick on a tour of Bombay, saying it would be good for him to know what the different districts were like.

  “The more Indian people you will meet, the better your chances would be to find your son.”

  Rick wasn’t sure why this kept proving to be true, but Rajit explained that Indian people could be the source of little known knowledge and added that it would help Rick with his shjprvrutti, his instincts.

  Rick learned quite a bit of Marathi from Rajit. It was spoken mainly in Bombay and had many similarities to Hindi. He had learned enough Hindi to get by, acquiring it mostly by osmosis, so Marathi would come a little easier.

  “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 a
round 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.