Golden Biker

by Alexander Von Eisenhart Rothe

  The second year he decided to just ignore Shaki. If he did not like it, he should leave it.... But Shaki had somehow taken a fancy to coughing a piece of curry sausage across Bear’s place every Wednesday. Bear even conceded to get a spittoon, just for Shaki, but he took no notice of it.

  In the third year it was just getting on his nerves...

  But today—this Wednesday—was his day of revenge. Bear had been holding back for a long time, but now he had reached his limit. Today he would prepare a special sausage for Shaki; the ultimate first strike weapon amongst sausages. The main ingredient of the sauce consisted of a little red fruit...

  Said fruit is the ‘Khmer Rouge’ of chilli plants, since what is left of your tongue can reasonably be called ‘The Killing Fields’. The pod is no bigger than a thumbnail—but thirty times as hot as a normal chilli. The Indians have a name for it that literally translates as: ‘spice is tearing tongues to shreds!’ which by itself is already pretty descriptive... Even the Indians, who are naturally quite inured to this stuff, only use it in minute quantities on the rarest of occasions.

  Bear took six whole pods, threw them in a blender and filled it up with a bottle of chilli sauce, labelled ‘Extra Hot—keep away from children!’ To this he added the roasted and finely ground kernels from thirteen red chillies. To increase potency he let it simmer down for three hours. At all times he wore safety glasses: one wipe of his eyes and he would have been blinded on the spot.

  Early that Wednesday afternoon, Shaki came striding into Bear’s shack. He was in a foul mood because his wife had forced him to take his dim-witted nephew, Rajnesh, the son of her sister, as an apprentice. Since Shaki was the only one in the family who had amounted to anything, Rajnesh was supposed to learn the tricks of the trade. Unfortunately Rajnesh was a total wimp, spending every spare moment in the cinema watching soppy Bollywood movies. He also collected flowers, pressing them between book covers. It was a shame, really.

  Shaki had instructed Rajnesh to stay in the background without attracting attention and under all circumstances to keep his mouth shut. Together with thug Number One and Number Two they entered the shack. As usual Shaki took the envelope and tucked it away.

  “Bear, one curry sausage!” Shaki called, starting off the every-Wednesday ritual.

  Bear was suspiciously cheerful. “Coming right alo-ong!” Smiling, he clicked into gear. “Today, you’ll like it, I’ve prepared a special curry recipe just for you!”

  Shaki got out his comb and started to part his oily hair. “I hope so, Bear, I surely hope so.”

  Bear looked at Shaki expectantly. “Would you like a little extra sauce on top?”

  “Go on then. Those dull sausages of yours, I’ll be lucky to taste anything at all.”

  Bear ladled out an extra portion of curry sauce on top of the pieces of sausage. Had Shaki been a little more attentive, he might have noticed dead flies lying around the saucepan. The unfortunate insects had made the mistake of buzzing through the ascending steam from the pan.

  “Well, enjoy!” Bear put the tin plate in front of the crabby looking gangster boss.

  “Thanks. You know Bear, the preparation of curry—real curry, I mean...” Shaki took a bite, started chewing then swallowed, “... that’s a secret, only us In—”

  He froze in mid sentence staring at Bear with a baffled expression on his face. Rajnesh, realising something was not right, tapped him on the shoulder from behind. “Uncle, everything ok?”

  Shaki just sat there, petrified. Peculiar colour changes rippled across his face. Bear had a funny feeling in his stomach. Had he maybe overdone it just a tiny bit?

  “Mpflgr...!” gurgled the gangster boss, still and stiff as a statue.

  Thug Number One and thug Number Two approached their boss.

  “What did you say?”

  Shaki opened his mouth and emitted a scream that rattled the glasses in Bear’s cupboard and could be heard all the way to Baga Beach. He leapt over the counter and dumped his head into Bear’s kitchen sink, which was full of greasy dishwater. Rajnesh and the two thugs jumped over the counter after him, wondering what in Krishna’s name was wrong with their boss. Coming up for air for a few seconds, Shaki didn’t really clarify things, since he had completely lost his powers of articulation. Panting and mumbling, he stuck out his tongue, trying to reanimate it with his fingers.

  “Keeeeeel heeeem!” he yelled hysterically.

  “What?” Number One asked helplessly, “I don’t understand!”

  Shaki motioned towards Bear agitatedly, dumped his head into the water, came up again and pointed again at him, this time more emphatically.

  “Muuudder him, jus´ fiiiniiiish heeem!”

  Rajnesh was puzzled. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “I think he means ‘kill him’” Bear sputtered, immediately biting his lip.

  Shaki frantically nodded his head, giving ‘the thumbs’ up sign.

  Number Two slapped his forehead. “Aah, I got it, ‘kill him!’”

  Shaki groaned: “Shoo´ heem, ha´ heem do peedjes `row heem do de dogs!”

  Rajnesh smiled. “I got it! ‘Shoes on, give him peaches and row him to the dogs!’”

  “Row him to the dogs? What’s that supposed to mean?” Number Two wondered aloud. Shaki shook his head and kicked his nephew.

  “I’m guessing” Bear took out a ‘Gold Flake’ cigarette and lit it with his Zippo, “I’m guessing what he means is: ‘Shoot him, hack him to pieces and throw him to the dogs.’”

  “Aah, that’s it!” the two thugs and the ‘prospect’ gangster said in unison, and Shaki nodded relieved.

  “We could have figured that one out by ourselves, right?” Shaking his head, Number One took out his automatic.

  Bear, still holding his burning lighter, weighed the price of the beach shack against that of his own life. Quickly calculating his chances, he threw the burning Zippo in a high arc in the general direction of the deep fat fryer and crouched into a sprinter’s position. Aghast, everybody stared at the lighter.

  Spinning in the air it curved towards the cooking oil.

  “Nooooooo!!!” Crying out in horror, one of the gangsters tried to catch it in mid air, failed and, falling to the floor, scrambled for cover.

  Plop...

  Nothing.

  Absolutely nothing. The Indians having automatically taken shelter, looked at each other in wonderment.

  “Why did it not explode?” Rajnesh asked, carefully exposing his head from behind the counter.

  Number One got to his feet. “How should I know? Maybe the oil wasn’t hot enough?”

  “Rubbish, don’t you see how it’s bubbling? It should be going off any second now.” Number One said flicking the safety switch on his gun. “Hey, Bear, how hot is the oil?”

  Bear, still crouching on the ground, looked at the killer in bewilderment. “Well, I reckon it’s boiling hot.”

  Triumphantly Number One turned to Number Two. “Look, oil only burns when it reaches its boiling point, like I said.”

  “Yes, but it’s not burning, is it?” Number Two objected.

  Shaki lost his temper. “Jus` shoo’ heem!”

  Rajnesh peered over the rim of the deep fryer and saw the Zippo. “I think the lighter went out flying through the air. Uncle, when he’s dead, can I keep it?”

  He fished the dripping lighter out of the oil with a pair of sausage tongs.

  “It’s kaput now!” said the gangster, cocking his gun and aiming it at Bear’s forehead.

  Rajnesh held the dripping Zippo above the deep fryer. “Let’s see, maybe it’s still working...”

  —zipp—

  KABOOOOM!!!

  The deep fryer went up in an orange ball of fire. Hot oil shot through the air, and flames engulfed the shack
. The shock wave threw everybody to the floor. Crawling on all fours Bear reached the entrance of his burning hut. A sheet of flame was burning right across the middle of the hut, which meant Shaki and his men had to break a window in the back wall to climb out. Coughing and spluttering, they staggered round to the entrance—only to see Bear bolting away on his motorbike. But what made them gawk in surprise was that someone had had the audacity to steal the bike of Number Two, right in front of their eyes, to go after Bear—someone whom they had never seen before and who had no idea that he had just bought himself a ticket to his own grave. Nobody—and that meant absolutely nobody—was ever allowed to touch Number Two’s Yamaha! But it happened at exactly 3:42 pm.

  For Arthur the whole situation looked like this: As soon as he arrived, and the tuc-tuc had left, the beach shack had gone up in a blast. Out crawled a man with long hair, a beard, leather hat and leather jacket, tattoos on his arms, having a coughing fit. This was exactly—apart from the coughing fit—how Dieter had described Bear, leading Arthur to the conclusion that it really was Bear. Before Arthur had a chance to talk to him, Bear had jumped on a motorbike and roared off. The only chance to catch up with this Bear guy was to nab one of the bikes in front of Bear’s burning shack and chase after him.

  Rajnesh jumped into the SUV to give chase. Quite sure that his uncle was right behind him he stepped on the gas.

  “Hey!” Number two was yelling behind him, “Come back! You forgot something!” But Rajnesh was already out of hearing range...

  “He’s such an idiot,” thought Shaki sadly, “but he is my nephew...”

  Bear was driving full throttle. Without braking he ripped through packs of tourists, past bullock carts packed sky-high, cows, elephants, processions of devout Hindus and everything else bustling about on India’s traffic ways. Only when he reached the single-lane tarmac road between the large rice paddies and the coconut grove, did he look back. They were hard on his tail. He could clearly make out one motorbike in high pursuit closing in on him. Bear yanked his bike around, left the tarmac and aimed straight for the coconut grove.

  ‘Why is this Bear guy driving like a maniac?’ a perplexed Arthur asked himself. He had almost run over some people in the road and now he was engaging in off-road slalom through a coconut grove! Was this show-off trying to prove something? Arthur didn’t get it, but he raced down the slope after him. Crossing the plantation at full speed was not without hazards though, and soon he was dodging scattered coconuts on the ground.

  Rajnesh was keen to make a good impression on his Uncle. “I’m on their heels, uncle!” he shouted doggedly, his hands clamping the steering wheel. Suddenly the motorbike left the road and went straight into the coconut grove. He hit the brakes and turned to the back seat. “Shall I go after... Oh?!”

  Dammit, he’d been overhasty again. Should he pursue the bike on his own, or should he rather drive back and pick up his uncle?

  This gangster was some stubborn bugger! Bear gave a quick glance back, long enough to realise he still had not lost his pursuer and long enough not to notice he was hitting a coconut at full speed. The front wheel slipped and the bike buckled sideways. Bear just managed to put his foot down and keep the bike upright.

  There! The guy had almost fallen off! No wonder at this kind of speed, Arthur thought. Sooner or later someone was going to get hurt. Arthur was a little bit miffed. This Bear guy was really quite reckless.

  On the one hand his uncle probably would have liked to be involved in all this. On the other hand, if he drove back now, he would lose the bikers. However he had no idea what he was going to do should he catch up with them all by himself. Certainly his uncle would be proud of him if he could capture them single-handed. But one also had to consider the fact that the SUV might get damaged in the coconut grove...

  Bear began to panic. He just could not shake off this guy behind him. But he was not ready to die yet, not by the hands of a killer from the Goan Mafia anyway. Not by a killer in any Mafia for that matter. He generally rejected the idea of an untimely and violent death. He chased across a field towards a rather familiar assemblage of tents and shacks amongst a shady palm grove. The famous Hippie market of Anjuna!

  In front of him, people began shrieking in panic and running into the open field. This Bear guy had smashed into the flea market at full throttle. Plain crazy—no doubt about it. People were hurling themselves out of his path. “Gangway! Watch out!” Arthur yelled manoeuvring his bike through the narrow lanes of the market. Ripping through ropes and snapping tent poles, he had people jumping into stall displays left and right. “Sooorryy!” he yelled over his shoulder. Suddenly he heard a loud bang. This Bear guy, trying to dodge a cow, had crashed smack dab into a Hippie shop. The rickety construction had collapsed immediately, silver jewellery, fragrant oil burners, incense sticks and ear candles flying through the air. Finally this reckless idiot had been stopped.

  Dammit! He had to stop! But they weren’t going to catch him that easily, no sir. Bear disentangled himself from the dishevelled remnants of the shop, ignoring some furious Hippies, and ran towards the beach.

  He had made up his mind; he would go back and pick up his uncle. He would know best what to do. The bikers were gone anyhow and if the SUV had suffered even the smallest scratch, his uncle would have been very, very sad indeed. Rajnesh put the car into reverse.

  He could not believe this jerk. He not only had a way of driving that put other people’s lives at risk, had destroyed private property and now instead of acting responsibly, had just taken off. Unbelievable, what a hooligan! If he continued on foot, Arthur would catch up with him any minute...

  Bear ran along the beach, gasping for breath. He could hear the familiar rattle of the motorbike behind him. Now they had him! He was as good as dead! He ran into the water—at least they wouldn’t be able to follow him on the bike.

  Arthur jumped off the bike and went running after Bear.

  “For God’s sake, will you finally stop?” he wheezed.

  Up to his knees in splashing water Bear was still running as fast as he could. Panic-stricken, he didn’t understand that his persecutor was yelling at him in his mother tongue. He idiotically screamed back: “You’ll never catch me alive!” Idiotic in so far as real gangsters wouldn’t want him ‘alive’ anyhow.

  Arthur gathered up all his strength and jumped Bear from behind. Taken by surprise, Bear stumbled and fell into the water. He started to hit out at Arthur who tried to fight him off.

  “Get off of me, you Indian asshole!!” Bear screamed breathlessly.

  Arthur hit him back. “Are you out of your mind? I am—”,

  Bear jumped on Arthur’s back and tried to strangle him.

  “—not an—”

  Arthur rolled forwards and Bear somersaulted over his head.

  “—Indian!!!”

  Bear having landed face down in the water, came up for air, still wildly hitting out. Arthur grabbed him and with an iron grip pushed him back under. Bear, struggling madly, stomped hard on Arthur’s foot. Arthur yelled out in pain, pulled Bear out of the water and screamed: “I’m not trying to harm you!” and then gave him a slap on the ear.

  “Why are you hitting me then?” Bear asked.

  Arthur let go of Bear. “You started it!”

  “Hello uncle!” Rajnesh rolled down the window.

  “Can I slap him, boss?” Number Two asked Shaki pleadingly. “Please...?”

  People were running towards them in a rage—apparently two bikers had crashed through the flea market, destroying half of the stalls.

  “So you came all the way from Germany just to find the Golden Biker?” Bear wanted to know after some complicated explanations.

  “Exactly! Dieter told me you’ve met him before and you might be able to help me find him.”

  “That’s the most hare-brained plan I’ve heard
in a long time. First of all, I have not the slightest idea—and neither does anyone else for that matter—where the Golden Biker could be. And secondly, even if you did find him it doesn’t mean he’ll give you some of his grass, the guy’s not a dealer, y’know.”

  “That’s just too bad. I thought you’d help me. I was going to ask you if you would go to the Himalayas with me and look for him. But maybe you’re right and this plan is screwed up. I’ll go by myself, then. Have fun with your Goan friends. I’m sure they’ll be most understanding.

  Should be here any minute now!” Arthur stood up radiating an air of total self-composure, wiped the wet sand from his trousers, rearranged his wet hair and started walking towards the beach.

  He inwardly counted backwards: “five... four... three... two...!”

  “Hey, Arthur, wait a minute!”

  “Just what I thought...”

  When Shaki, Rajnesh and the two thugs reached the market it looked like a disaster area. It didn’t take long to find out what had happened. The two culprits ended up fighting in the water and then had taken off on their bikes, together, heading north.

  “Bling me hiss hea’!” Shaki snarled furiously which Rajnesh quite rightly interpreted as “Bring me his head!” Wow, it was just like in the films Rajnesh was so fond of watching. He already felt pretty dangerous himself. Narrowing his eyes to slits he hissed, “You are wanting it dead or alive, Boss?” He never quite understood why his uncle gave him such a long and sad look.

  At this moment twenty miles further south, a very happy tuc-tuc driver was entering the temple, just like everyday at this time. He took off his shoes, ignited some incense sticks and gave puja to Ganesha, the elephant god, responsible for his good luck. Hadn’t he, Sunil, had an enormous amount of luck today?