He looks like Bagwan Rajneesh.
Free love. I got to grope some big boobs back in the day. I told him about my time with the Orange clan when I lived in Byron Bay. ‘I bet you were groping breasts before you knew what to do with your pecker.’ He was clued in, no doubt about it.
He’ a security guard at some place in town. He lives in the indian temple. ‘I only pay 100 Ringgit a month.’
We have our little religious discussions. I’m out of my league. Everything I say is just vague and inflammatory. Everything he says is based on facts and rote learning.
I run into Bagwani often at the Indian cafe. He looks like some wild werewolf. His friend Raj use to be a customs official. He’s retired now and hits the local most days to spend some time with the boys and away from the missues. This is the equivalent of a Man’s Work Shed. He has a bad hip and uses a walking stick. Come midnight, he’s usually out of here. ‘Arrive today, leave today,’ is his motto.
For the last week I’ve had stumps extracted from my mouth. It’s been painful and the first stop after the dentist is the Indian cafe for some fresh juice that I suck through a straw.
One of the Indians has turned on me.He didn’t like my wanking joke. Everyone else did. He’s lost face. The look on his face is that he doesn’t wank on the roti chenai. He takes his job too seriously and really should relax. He nearly ran me over on his push bike the other day. He’s softened now. One of the staff told he has health issues. We are back on good terms now.
All is not well. I know I’m going to be fucked over soon. Mr. Chong is directing an evil little plot for me. He’s the owner of the hotel I’ve been staying at for nearly two months. I’ve only got two weeks before I’m out of here. But Chong has suggested I move into his friend’s house. “Think of the savings,’ he says, all innocently. ‘You can buy so much more food with the savings.’
I know it’s going to backfire. I just know it. But I also need a few more crescendos to finish A Dirty Little War.
It was checkmate. Mr. Chong’s friend and my brief landlord had made the threats. And Mr. Chong had given him a copy of my passport. My only option was to make a police report. I was forced into it. It’s a drama I could have done without.
Bagwani finishes up his coffee and joins the table. I’m with Chin, a Chinese, who use to work in the rubber plantations. He’s a relaxed Chinese and blends in well with the Indians. We are always swapping cigarettes and discussing which one is the cheapest and best. He says that at Chong’s hotel they overcharged him for a packet. I must be getting the royal treatment for now.
Soon, I’ll be gone. They won’t have a clue why I’ve left. My dentist up the road won’t ever see me again. Brian, Mr. Chong’s friend, wants another 300 Ringgit from me for taking me to the Thai border. He’s already got three weeks rent from a room a rented off him. I won’t be returning. Mr. Chong said the house only had a Chinese couple staying there. But the four Pakistanis staying at the house are just the beginning of my problems.
It’s long walks back from town to the outskirts. It’s dark and only gangs on bikes go up and down this strip of road out of town. It has an outlaw feel to it, and the forest near the hills are a good place to dispense a dead body.
Bagwani’s mate, Raj, tells me what is really going down in politics. ‘Anwar was caught buggering boys under Mahathir, and he’s still doing it. Thats why Najib jailed him.’
Raj says that the truth on what is really happening is not coming out. ‘Info wars, the Chinese are saturating the channels with their own agenda.’ He says Mahathir wants to get his son in the top position. ‘Everyone has their own agenda.’
Bagwani is working in fifteen minutes. He’s homeless but won’t admit it. ‘I only pay 100 Ringgit a month.’ Can you see if I can stay in the temple too, I ask him. ‘Won’t do,’ he says. ‘You aren’t Hindu.’
He says the African Muslims allowed into Malaysia are having a riot. ‘They are gigolos.’ Do go on. ‘They are servicing the rich Malay women.’ You mean wives of top politicians? ‘They love the big cock.’
I’m out of here. I never did get to say good byes to the boys. I was raced out of town. They’ll never know what went down. Mr.Chong got 2 months of rent from me at his hotel and maybe a cut back for getting me into his friend’s house. I’ve got a bad taste now. Mr.Chong says he knows everything that is going on. ‘I have CCTV live feeds on my mobile phone.’ Does he know that the police will call him and ask him why he handed out a copy of my passport to a complete stranger?
“No worries, we just pay off police and problem go away. But I’m sorry, your problem just got worse.’
Chong has a sixth finger, a tiny evil looking horn like appendage off his tiny pinky. I believe he’s the devil incarnate.