Sea of Innocence

by Desai, Kishwar

  The story was not as simple as Amarjit would like me to believe. Clearly the minister must have been the reason why Amarjit had pushed me into this case. And it could also be the reason why he got orders to stop me from going further. If I could discover the trigger for both his original request and his subsequent command that I halt my investigation, I would be able to solve this puzzle.

  What surprised me, listening to Elizabeth’s frank and lucid description, was how openly this supposedly illicit smuggling was conducted. Obviously the people involved were confident that nothing of this would ever be reported to the police. Or that, even if it were, no one would ever take any action, because the police were possibly involved in it as well.

  ‘Do you remember the minister? Who he was?’

  ‘No, madam. I only remember he had big moustache.’ She twirled both hands around her lips graphically and laughed, and from her dismissive tone I gathered that she wasn’t going to say anything more. She had turned away, and to make her point even clearer she made the TV a little louder and the evangelist began denouncing the weak ways of the flesh once more.

  From her perspective it was really a straightforward story. Though parts of the narrative were shocking to me, it had become a way of life for her. A perfect example of Hobson’s choice: you either got involved or you stayed away from the beach entirely. But either way you ran a risk of being attacked by the sharks in the water, and mauled by the wolves on land. Just as Vishnu had been.

  That was life. Nothing had changed in the last fifty years.

  Auntie Elizabeth continued to flick the duster in the air over the shelves as though she were conducting an unseen orchestra. I thanked her and left the shop, after taking Vishnu’s phone number. In case, I told her, the Internet needed repairing.

  Thinking over what I had just heard, and feeling desperately sorry for Vishnu, I decided to take a slow walk back to the hotel.

  Having spent a large part of the morning being puzzled over Marian, I now knew enough to ask her frankly why she had concluded – or had allowed Amarjit to decide for her – that there was no point hunting for her sister any more?

  Because, in either case, where was Liza?

  I also wanted to know why Marian had framed Vishnu over something he obviously hadn’t done. One year! It was a long time to be locked up for someone else’s crime. And, of course, why she had hidden the truth about her father from me. The questions went on and on.

  To my surprise (it must have been my lucky day), when I rang her, she answered almost instantly and even agreed to join me for lunch back at my hotel.

  It was a strange coincidence that on the day I had been asked to give up my hunt for Liza I was finally making some degree of progress on the case.

  It was important to be honest, and so as soon as Marian and I sat down for lunch, I let her know that I had attended Stanley’s anniversary party the night before. And I told her I had seen her there, too, playing the perfect daughter. I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice as much as possible. But today I needed her to stop telling lies, allow some of my anger to simmer through.

  She looked at me and then looked away. I could see that this wasn’t easy for her to hear.

  ‘Marian, you and I both know that there are two sides to life on this beach. One side is very visible and very loud. This is the world where you can be a simple tourist, have fun, indulge in water sports, eat, drink and go home. The other side is where you and I seem be trapped. I could have had a lovely holiday here with my daughter, without a care in the world. But because of you, that night, I was forced to abandon my holiday, send my daughter away, and got sucked into this case. And I still don’t know why you haven’t been honest – either with me or with Amarjit.

  ‘It may involve just a few people, but I know there is something very dangerous going on. I don’t quite know how Liza got caught up in it and why you decided to pretend you were just two simple girls who were misled one evening.’

  I enjoyed watching her flush with discomfort, as she lit a cigarette with shaking hands.

  ‘I now know that you’ve been here for a while,’ I continued, ‘and that things are not quite so straightforward as you told me and Amarjit. So when, exactly, were you planning to tell me the truth? After those guys who messed with your sister had done the same with me? After they had given me those drugs so that I almost killed myself? What’s going on here? Whose side are you on? And why didn’t you tell me about being an astrologer? It makes no sense. You’ve hidden a lot of facts from us. I seriously don’t even know if Liza is really your sister. I don’t know what to believe.’

  It was a long list of accusations, and I could not help the harsh tone of recrimination in my voice.

  Marian looked at me, white faced, as tears rolled down her cheeks. I ignored her distress and ordered some wine – I needed to calm down and keep the anger out of my voice.

  ‘Yes, yes, she is my sister,’ she said finally in a choked voice. I hoped desperately that this time her anguish was genuine and that she was telling me the truth at last. ‘And I am sorry I couldn’t share everything with you when we met. I know you probably thought I didn’t care about Liza but I was caught in . . . in a trap. I had to get justice for Liza and I had to survive. Sometimes it seemed only one of the two was possible. Not both.’

  She smoked nervously for a few moments before she spoke again.

  ‘I was wondering when you’d find out. About my dad and me. Quite honestly I wanted to tell you on the first day, but I thought you might get the wrong impression. Most people, especially Indians, have a definite view about hippies and I was scared that you would have concluded that Liza was also some kind of tramp, and not helped to find her.’

  I bit my tongue. She was right. The lifestyle choices of others could prejudice us towards judging them, often erroneously. What she didn’t know was that usually I was on the receiving end of those judgements, and was unlikely to criticize anyone else for unconventional behaviour.

  ‘So what exactly is going on?’

  ‘Well, you’ve already seen Stanley, my father, who is very easy-going. But Liza and I grew up with my mother in London, and she’s very different from my dad. They had come to Goa together in the late seventies and stayed on for a long time, running through the money my father had made. Finally Mum got fed up of the lifestyle. She had a job in finance before she came here, and she went back to London to work for the same bank she’d left. Both Liza and I were born in London, and my dad came for short visits, but he never liked it there. He had got too used to this carefree life. So he left us and came back to Goa. Liza and I arrived here for the first time around two years ago to meet the father we hadn’t seen for nearly fifteen years.

  ‘I discovered I’m a lot like my father. I could empathize with his need to stay here, though I wanted to stay for different reasons. I have an eastern sensibility, and I’m into yoga and astrology. I love the whole spirituality bit. But Liza wanted something else. She was more physical, so she got caught in a different crowd, because she wanted to make money and have an adventurous life. I guess she was attracted by the beach glamour. The fun, the aimless drifting from one party to another.’

  She paused as though recollecting her life before and after.

  ‘Yesterday, while I was at Stanley’s celebration, my boyfriend got a message from his brother, who is in the police, that I shouldn’t worry about Liza. That’s why I left the party. So I wanted to tell you: it’s okay if you want to stop looking. We don’t know where she is, but the police seem to think that she will show up. In fact they even gave my passport back to me finally, so I can go home at last.’

  I noted how her conversation still kept slipping in and out of the present and past tense, when speaking about Liza.

  I decided not to tell her that Amarjit had more or less told me the same thing, that there was no need to bother about Liza any more, and I should leave. But her last comment surprised me. Was it she who had made the deal with the police?
Her passport in return for calling off the search for Liza? It sounded like a very strange bargain. And, as far as I remembered, this was the first time I heard about her missing passport.

  ‘Why did they take your passport away? Surely they didn’t suspect that you had been involved in your sister’s disappearance?’

  She looked embarrassed and said, ‘It’s a long story and I wish I could tell you everything. But it’s my story and isn’t related to what happened to Liza. Seriously, I know my behaviour has been odd and erratic, but there is little connection between the two. Simran, please, please believe me, there is no point investigating this any more. There are many reasons. One compelling factor is that there are some rather awful people involved. You saw how they drugged you the other day, they are capable of anything. You must leave at once.’

  Marian looked around, just as Amarjit had when he had met me here. She seemed as nervous as he had been. I wondered if she realized that she had contradicted herself. On the one hand, she had told me Liza was fine. On the other hand, she just said that I could still be in danger. Surely that meant that Liza was not safe either?

  Over her shoulder I got a glimpse once again of those two almost identical men, whom I had begun to think of as Tweedledum and Tweedledee, standing behind the glass door.

  These were the two men who been arguing with the manager at that very spot on the day Durga and her friends decided to leave. It was strange that they always seemed to be here when I was meeting with anyone related to the case.

  Were they here once again to keep an eye on me? Or Marian?

  I didn’t want to mention their presence to her till I had got a bit more information, so I pretended to acquiesce.

  ‘Fine. I’ll leave. But only on the condition that you answer my questions. To begin with, what made you decide to stay on here for almost two years, and did Liza go back to London in between?’

  Fortunately Marian had her back to the door and did not notice the two men – unless, of course, she had come with them; I pushed away the thought so that I could concentrate on her.

  ‘Well, initially Liza did go back to London a couple of times. Then someone floated a story about my dad’s mysterious stash of opium or cocaine or whatever. Every now and then there will be rumours about it and it comes back to haunt him, and us. I don’t know if it was ever true, because he says he has checked every place he can think of and he can’t even remember if he ever had it. But now everyone believes it. And they think he knows exactly where the stash is. The cops harass him, the junkies harass him, and he survives by playing his guitar and pretending to be the last of the great white hippies. It’s all about peace and love. But actually it’s all fucking ridiculous.’

  Now the mask had completely slipped. Finally in front of me was a desperate woman, worried about her father, uncertain about her sister.

  ‘So why didn’t you leave and just force him to come with you? I mean, obviously he’s living in some fantasy world.’

  ‘I couldn’t. As I just told you, they’d taken my passport away. Look, I can tell you how wonderful Goa can be when things are going well, and how one bad experience can make everything turn to ashes. But I don’t think you’ll believe me.’

  I sipped my wine slowly and counted to ten. I kept my voice as soft as I could. If she was going to take me on another long ride it would be very difficult. But if she had something genuine to tell me I was certainly interested.

  ‘I’ve wasted a lot of time over all this,’ I said, keeping my voice even, with enormous effort. ‘I need to know why your passport was taken away. And you keep saying that “they” took it. Who are these people who seem to be persecuting you?’

  ‘Your beach friend is involved in this. Are you sure you want to know?’

  My beach friend? For a bizarre moment I thought she meant Dennis.

  ‘Which beach friend?’

  ‘Veeramma. I wanted to warn you about it the other day. But I kept quiet because you were so sure you’d get some information from her. She can be very dangerous.’

  So the dislike was mutual, though Marian had been better at hiding it.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘She planted drugs on me.’ Her thin face seemed to become even more gaunt.

  I nodded patiently, though still slightly unbelieving. Wasn’t it Marian’s scheming that had led to my being surreptitiously slipped drugs at Cozee Home?

  It had been Veeramma who rescued me. I tried not to be judgemental as I listened to her.

  ‘Have you ever wondered why someone has taken the trouble to teach that group such perfect English, German, French? It’s a lot of effort, you know. They only do it because it is profitable. Haven’t you realized that yet? Only a few of the beach vendors are involved – but definitely Veeramma and her gang are part of it.’

  I admitted I hadn’t thought about it. I had imagined that these girls had picked up the languages, despite all their disadvantages, simply by interacting with foreigners on the beach. Slowly I began to understand her meaning.

  ‘I was very impressed, too. These lovely traditional-looking women, so fluent in so many languages. Well, it’s very useful for them, because they chat up the tourists and find out who is worth how much. The richer ones are then sold the more expensive drugs. And some of the poorer ones, like me, are caught in a web, from where it’s difficult for them to ever get out.’

  I was shocked at her words. Marian, the calm, cool, detached woman, who was barely ruffled by her sister’s disappearance, had her own very troubled history.

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘It was sometime last year, just before Liza vanished. I used to see Veeramma around and she was very friendly. Then she offered me some hashish, very cheaply. I refused. Honestly, I don’t do drugs. Only once in a while, very, very rarely, I might smoke a joint with Dad. Or take a drag from someone, like I did last night. Also, at the time this happened, I was quite happy getting to know my father, learning yoga and practising astrology. I seemed to have an instinct for all of this and I never needed an artificial high. I enjoyed myself anyway.

  ‘But for some reason Veeramma had targeted me. She just wouldn’t let go. And her bosses at the time had told her to look out for potential victims who looked young, who were mostly alone, were vulnerable and not very rich. They usually tell these women the profile of the person they are looking for. And they also wanted a woman with a foreign passport, because they are easier to manipulate. Veeramma kept hitting on me every day, telling me how beautiful I was and bargaining with me till the price of that marijuana was brought down to a few hundred rupees. It was so ridiculously cheap that I bought it, thinking that I could give it to my dad, or the groupies who hang around him.

  ‘So I took it back to my room. Liza and I were staying at Cozee Home at the time. I didn’t have my own place. And as I said, this was just the day before Liza disappeared. I hadn’t realized that it was a trap. Three anti-narcotic guys came in the middle of the night a few days later and raided my room. They arrested me for that small packet of marijuana that had been practically pushed on me. So I had to be “nice” to them.’

  She paused. Tears poured down her cheeks again.

  ‘I was desperate not to go to jail. Can you imagine what the story would have been like? Father a former hippie, sister who had vanished, and now I was caught with drugs. I had just got admission into Oxford, I didn’t want to screw that up. So I did whatever they asked me to do.

  ‘I had sex with all of them. Gave them whatever pounds I had. They still impounded my passport before letting me go. But they agreed they wouldn’t make it into a police case.’

  ‘So did you tell these anti-narcotic guys about Veeramma?’

  She looked at me pityingly.

  ‘You are obviously even more innocent than I was. Don’t you get it? She gets a cut from them, whatever money they make. The cops, the beach boys, the women, they are all aware.’

  I was now completely shocked. The prism shifted once mo
re as I realized that it could have been Veeramma after all who had tipped off Curtis at Cozee Home to slip the drugs onto me. In all likelihood she had seen me walk towards the guest house with Marian.

  ‘But I didn’t give up. As soon as I got involved with my present boyfriend – his brother is in the police – I complained to him about Veeramma, a regular police complaint that she was a drug peddler. She was banned from the beach for a while, but now she’s back. And I am sure she would like to destroy me in any way she can.’

  Even though I hated to believe any of this, it seemed too far-fetched for her to make up. But I also wanted Marian to understand that Veeramma was as much a victim as she herself had been. She had to succumb to the demands of the drug mafia and the police if her group was to continue working on the beach. In some ways, being poorer than Marian made her more of a pawn.

  Now I could also understand Veeramma’s reluctance to give me any information about Liza. And why she wanted me to leave without helping Marian. She might have had an underlying worry that I would find out the truth about her. Because after all, Marian was right. I did regard her as a friend.

  Was there anyone on this beach, I wondered, who hadn’t been corrupted somehow, seduced by the idea of a good life?

  I remembered the blonde girl running on the beach, and Veeramma’s remark about the tattoo.

  ‘Did Veeramma also do a tattoo for Liza?’

  Marian looked surprised.

  ‘How . . . how do you know?’

  ‘And was it lower down, near her pubic area?’

  ‘That’s right. It was a little daisy chain of broken hearts.’

  Even though I had expected it, I felt the answer like a body blow. Did the design hold a deeper, darker symbolism?