Goa Freaks: My Hippie Years in India

'Old Fashion-style—dong.'

'Aw.' I made a pitying face.

The doorbell rang continually—the new doorbell; the old one had rusted in the monsoon.

'Yo, the sheriff is HERE!'

There was Black Jimmy, star still pinned to his best. 'Jimmy!' I exclaimed. 'Come in.'

'Hello, Miss Cleo,' said the next guest.

Serge!

'This is Miss Mireille.'

And his Frenchie! Oh, shit!

Since I had no coke of my own, I positioned myself next to people who had some. I accepted Sima's offer, then sat by Alehandro for a snort of his; then I joined Amsterdam Dean. I indulged in everyone's stash while I savoured playing the Grande dame.

When the lights had grown bright announcing that there was sufficient electricity, I showed the movies. A mob crowded into the 'theatre' to watch. I loved showing my films with Narayan present; in forty minutes of footage from Bali, be star in a single shot!

'Look, Anjuna was just a baby then,' said Laura as we watched. 'Those castles we had at Kaiya Waiya were, like, far out,' said Trumpet Steve.

'Yo, dorn’t you have shots of the sheriff?'

'Not in Bali,' I told Jimmy. 'You left the country before I started filming. I have you in Bangkok.'

'Do you have the movies of our wedding?' asked Gigi, who was sitting on Marco's lap with her arms around his neck.

'Not yet. They're sent out of the country for developing. Takes forever.'

'Show the poker game again,' someone requested.

'Look at that—Serge demonstrating how to use a pig toilet!'

Everyone cheered as they watched Serge lower his pants and squat. The roar woke up Junky Robert. '. . . DID NOT!' he exclaimed indignantly.

'There's the poker game. Hey, Dayid, looks like you were losing.'

'Yes, I confess to impecuniousness at the game's termination,' Dayid answered. Ashley perched near him on a window ledge, her jade cigarette holder slanting daintily in the air.

'Hoo, boy—look at Mental snort that line.'

'Where is Mental, anyway?' I asked, noticing his absence for the first time.

'Last time I saw him he was hiding under the bed.'

'Under the bed? Uh-oh.' I remembered his tendency to create havoc. 'I'd better go check on him.'

I entered the bedroom to see a huge lump in the centre of the room. In Coke Amuck paranoia Mental had crawled under the bed—but not just under the mattress; he'd burrowed under the carpet too. What terror had made him slink underground, turning tables upside down? The mountain, trailing pink and purple satin sheets, trembled. On the summit, velvet cushions wavered.

'Mental? Mental, is that you? What are you doing?'

I could barely hear the muffled voice under sheets, pillows, mattress, and carpet. 'I'm alright. Tee hee, don't worry about me. Tee hee, tee hee.'

Remembering what happened the last time he freaked out at house, I didn't trust him. I petitioned Alehandro for help.

'Ola, Mental. Que pasa?'

We strained to interpret the answer: 'mmfdm nmmd, tee hee . . . mmdt tee hee, tee hee . . . dmsmsm alright.'

Alehandro planted himself in a rocking chair and told me not to worry, he'd watch Mental and make sure he didn't destroy anything. I shrugged my shoulders and returned to the party, leaving the rocking Spaniard with the lump.

When everyone left, I surveyed the mess the maid would have to face. The refreshments had come from her family's  chai shop and would be added to my bill. Would they let me wait till next season to pay it? I wouldn't ask, though, until alter she had cleaned up.

'Where is my brass tobacco holder?' I asked Jacques. 'The one with the skulls. It was right here. Do you see it somewhere?'

'That's where Eve and Neal were sitting,' answered Jacques. 'SHIT! Eve stole my bowl. I loved that bowl. Petra gave it to me.'

By February the last of my cash had dwindled to nothing. I bought dope only when absolutely necessary, usually managing to scrounge from friends. As I apportioned the scrounging, I spent less time with Jacques. I didn't want him thinking I liked him only for his drugs, and socializing for a tum-on elsewhere took time.

Neal, usually my best source, was in worse shape than I. Nothing had worked for him, and he survived on the return of favours. By now, though, most debts had been repaid, and some people were even dodging him. Having a keep to at his side did not help his waning popularity. Pretty soon his landlord wanted to get rid of them, saying he had relatives who needed the room.

'Keo! Keo!' Neal's baby shouted in delight as I entered their home. The baby loved me. I didn't know why—I certainly wasn't a baby person. My appearance brought shouts of glee and a chorus of Keo! Keo! When I left, the baby cried.

'Hello, Ha,' I said, patting her on the head.

'Yes, Keo's here,' whispered Eve, none too happily.

When Neal told me of his housing plight, I invited him to stay with me. 'I'll sleep on the waterbed in the front room and let you have the upstairs,' I offered.

'Are you sure?' he asked. 'I know you don't like people around all the time.'

What could I do? Neal was my closest friend. I also felt guilty about a package I'd sent for him. He'd asked me to mail an envelope with dope to the States. I took it to the Panjim post office (again stopping to say hello to Inspector Navelcar). Not till my taxi was halfway back to Mapusa did I realize I'd forgotten to ask for a receipt. When they didn't have to give a receipt, Indian postal workers pocketed postage and threw away packages. I remembered this fact of Indian life but felt too lazy to go back and hassle with them. Maybe they'd send it anyway.

They didn't. The package never reached its destination. I hadn't told Neal about forgetting the receipt. After the reports about my ripping off Mental and Giuliano, I feared Neal would think I had never sent the envelope and had kept the dope for myself. By inviting Neal and his crew to five in my home, I hoped to make up for ruining his scam. Besides, I couldn't leave a friend in distress to battle the elements on his own. I wasn't looking forward to having Eve underfoot, though. There went my belongings. Even less appealing was the thought of a baby in the house. Ugh! I hated kids.

I divided the house in two, giving Neal, Eve, and Ha the second floor, which could be entered from outside. Ideally, with the door shut at the top of the stairs, it would make two separate apartments.

Not to be. The connecting doors remained opened, and first thing every morning, the baby woke up and descended the stairs with the sole purpose of irritating me. The bracelet of bells Ha wore on one ankle aggravated the situation. In the midst of a peaceful sleep I'd hear TLING! step TLING! step TLING! step as the horrid creature came down the stairs. Half asleep and fuming, I'd think, 'Don't come in here, you. Don't you dare bother me.' But the little beast considered me her Aunt Keo and thought I was just wonderful.

TLING! step TLING! step. The sound would grow louder, and I could tell when Ha was in the living room. TLING! step. Oh, Fuck! Don't come near me. A pause. I'd hold myself still so she wouldn't hear a rustle and remember me. Maybe she'd go away. TLING! step. Oh, no. I'd hold my breath as she peeped in the doorway near where I had been sleeping. My eyes would he shut tight. A pause. And then, 'KEO!' would be shouted deafeningly in my ear, followed by annoying, childish laughter.

I really hated kids.

Fortunately Neal had a jar of liquid Opium that almost made their presence worthwhile. The amount I