The Hundred Dollar Bill

    Cochin was in darkness, it's streets quiet, the air warm and heavy. Insects buzzed and fluttered at the lamps of the few remaining wayside vendors. The rickshaw driver turned his head and chatted briefly as he took me down a side street to a nearby hotel. 

     Crossing the courtyard to wash I followed a path through the draped forms of resting men. Some watched my passing, as they talked amongst themselves, their cigarettes aglow, white vests bright in the deep shadow of a sheltering tree.

  I was resting on the bed when someone appeared in the doorway. I could see he was a man of business. He told me his name was Rajamund, and as I looked up and spoke of my tiredness, he nodded with understanding and a faint smile, sat down, relaxed and lit a cigarette. He then began to talk of a scheme of which he seemed both confident and proud, and with the open mind that weariness can bring I listened, as politely and with a quiet enthusiasm, he told his story.  

   

     "In town there is a girl a very pretty girl … Yes ... Very Pretty … A German girl …"

I glanced his way.

     "Please, no girls,"

     "Ah … but wait. It is I who have the money. I will give you one hundred dollars, a good bill … Fresh … Just minted … Arrived this week from Singapore."

     I looked his way again as he went on to explain his plan. 

     "We will share the change, you, myself and my brother."

     "You see?. You understand?"

     "A good bill?" I asked.

     "Excellent quality. The very best," came his reply in words that echoed perfectly the whispered temptation of so many a street encounter.

      "All will go well," he said as he leant back in his chair.    

      "You have your pleasure. We share the change. All will go well."

He regarded me silently for a few seconds. 

       "Good! Yes?"

I found myself unable to contain a smile in reply.

   I awoke the next day to the sound of crows, the rumble of an ox-cart and the steady chatter of small children on their way to school. Normally this would ease me into the day but the events of the evening troubled me. Did I want the girl anyway? Would she have a protector? Would they see the game we played? Yet the money to be made could not be denied. I packed my bag and left for another part of town, unable to handle this anxious questioning, this tempting yet fraught proposal. That morning I began wander by the docks, Rajamund had told me that was where he could be found. Though I told myself that this really was a bad deal, I still felt drawn to it. I would tempt fate.

     Catching sight of me Rajamund leapt from his resting place in the shady roots of a banyan tree, his face alive with the possibilities of the day and we greeted each other with the strength and vigor of those about to embark on a vital journey. His brother was by his side and took from the hundred-dollar bill from the top pocket of his faded cotton shirt. I looked at it and then gazed up into their faces, as if to say "Is this it? You expect that I use this?" For it was the sort of money children would use when pretending the ways of grownups. It was then that I realized that it was with an innocent and primitive trust that we were to undertake this venture. The note was good because we believed it to be so. That was enough, that would see us through. A taxi sat nearby, its engine warm, turning over slowly. It had been waiting for us all this time, and I became a passive yet willing accomplice as the three of us opened the doors and climbed inside. 

  We arrived at a small brick house on the outskirts of town. Words were exchanged with the driver, and he sat and waited. Rajamund had wanted to smarten me up a little, with new shirt and trousers, perhaps shoes instead of sandals, but I said no to spending any money on this quest. I was apprehensive and afraid as the three of us walked to the quiet building. Rajamund knocked and the door was opened by a plump, middle-aged Anglo-Indian woman. So this was the beauty! This plain woman in a worn brown house-dress.

   'It's nine in the morning. What will the neighbors think." she said forcefully.

Rajamund apologized whilst nodding my way, as if laying the blame on my desires. Anxiously I took a seat on the couch and glanced around, behind a cloth curtain I could see the figure of a man as he moved around the kitchen. The woman asked forgiveness for the untidiness of the house and then suggested that I relax in the bedroom. 

   "Just this way," she said with a smile and a wave of her hand.

It was at this moment that Rajamund produced the note. The moment dragged on as I hoped for release. She regarded his extended hand for a moment.

   "But I cannot take this. It is too early in the day and I have no money." 

  

 These words lifted the weight, my whole being relaxed. I made for the for the door, eyes smiling, feeling so very, very good. The brothers followed silently behind. Outside I joked ecstatically with them about the note. "This useless thing," I called it, the brothers did not smile back. Then the three of us entered the still waiting taxi. I looked out with a quiet happiness, the two of them in silent despondency. After a while a suggestion was made that we visit a store in town, owned by two Sikh brothers, with wonderful ivory carvings. Perhaps I would like to visit, maybe buy a few items? I shook my head to say no. The taxi continued on its way and then a voice asked hopefully.                

    "Hashish?"

    Our destination was the house of a Muslim in the old quarter of town, on the island known as Fort Cochin. As the ferry pulled in at the jetty I noticed at the top of the steps above us a small hunch-backed figure. He is wearing a beautiful, almost luminous red and yellow cloth wrapped around his waist and thighs. His brown body oiled in the sun. His bent back offered to view. Before him lay a selection of colorful lottery tickets laid out neatly upon a square cloth. He had an air of infinite patience.

   A rickshaw is called and we move slowly through lanes of aged wood and stone before coming to a halt before a street-side house, its door and shutters ajar. I notice two old men seated inside. They gaze out at the world in steady and open regard. Rajamund, taking my money, advances to the window. Greetings are given and received. Hands touch lightly in gentle exchange. He returns bearing a package of dark, sweet smelling resin. The old men follow him with their eyes, their look then coming to rest upon my face.

  The brothers suggest a cool drink before taking the ferry home. 'Toddy Shop' announced the hand-painted sign nailed to the front of a rough wooden shack. Entering the darkness inside we are greeted by the proprietor. A large and happy man dressed in a magnificent blue shirt. We sit at a long trestled table, a lizard shimmies across its stained and wounded surface, and a rat clambers up the palm leaf wall.

  The toddy is brought in old, large, mis-matched bottles. It is milky-white, fermented from the coconut tree, strong, sweet and refreshing. Side dishes of fried shell-fish, pickles and chopped onions are put before us. More bottles appear. A cigarette is emptied of its tobacco and with practiced and casual care marijuana is mixed with the shreds. It is all returned, and then a smoothing, a tapping. The proprietor brings matches and soon a pungent smoke drifts lazily around our heads. Everyone is relaxed and happy, and then touching my hand Rajamund says he has a proposal.

     "You could make a lot of money my friend"

       I sigh and turn my head away to watch the patterned light trickling over the floor.

      "One million rupees"

      I lift my head."And?"

      "Just for friendship. Nice, very nice, Indian woman, maybe later perhaps marriage" He smiled and titled his head. 

      "But first you must get some new clothes. These you have will not work."

      He took my loose cotton shirt between his fingers.

      "I have a good friend, a tailor, we must go this afternoon, take measurements, choose the cloth … You will look fine." He says proudly.

      The brothers regard me silently.

      "I need to rest, I am very tired." comes my reply. 

      The next day I decide leave town, it has been enough. I make my way to the bus station and crossing a field I come across Rajamund, it is as if he had been waiting for me. His eyes are hard this time, his shoulders taut, he demands some money to help pay for the toddy of yesterday. I offer no resistance and give him much more than he is really due, after all, I tell myself, we all have to make a living. As we part he does not return my goodbyes.