Lost in Pattaya (17 page)

All the while,
Kawai’s strange visiting card seemed to gain weight and I felt it heavier in my
pocket, in fact every now and then I fingered it’s edges, dreading the
possibility of actually having to use it.

I was relieved to
find my room key card still working, but my heart fell when I realised I was by
myself. Li Ya was not in the room. There were no notes or messages for me and I
simply slumped on to the bed, hoping she would return soon so I could return
her back to her parents. With her out of the equation, decisions would be much
simpler.

I cared for Thuy
Binh, but with her in Kawai’s clutches there was little that I could do. I
mean, I could not take on the Lord of Bangkok. I was just a failed auditor,
tottering about after having botched a family and work life.

I must have
drifted into a snooze, for when the phone rang, I leapt, grabbing the handset
clumsily, simply listening, and not saying a word at first.

“It’s me,” came
the voice over the line, it was unmistakably hers, Miho’s.

“Where are you?
Lots of people are looking for you,” I said.

“Yes I know. Just
thought I’d spend a day with my friend Li Ya,” she said.

“Hi dad,” Li Ya’s
voice came through, from the background.

“Can you give the
phone to Li Ya?” I demanded.

“Hey dad, What’s
up? Where have you been all morning?” she sounded happy.

“Li Ya, where are
you? I need to come and get you. You can’t be hanging around Bangkok with Miho.
I know you are high and trust me, I don’t really care about that. I just want
you to leave Miho and come back to the hotel,” I was working words, trying to
find a way for me to reach her and then eject her out of what I had landed her
in, a mess.

“Why are you
worried, I mean her and me, we are just having a good time? Don’t worry about
me, hold on speak to Miho,” she handed the phone back to Miho.

“What do want from
Li Ya?” I asked.

“Nothing other
than unselfish love, a love that Thuy Binh betrayed because of you, it is the
same love that I now seek from Li Ya. You should not have cheated me, you may
end up paying a very heavy price,” she whispered, clearly not wanting Li Ya to
hear the last bit.

“What happened to
Thuy Binh? Where is she?” I asked, wanting to prolong conversation, giving
myself the time to think.

“I gave her to
Kawai, in exchange for Pattaya, which is now mine. She was born a prostitute
and ruled for a while as the queen, now she is back to being Kawai’s prostitute
and will soon die as his entire gang’s bitch,” Miho, she was avenging herself,
wanting me to know that she had prevailed. Her revenge was meaningless to me,
since I was concerned with only the safety of Li Ya then, and a way to ease her
out of Bangkok, back to the safe company of her parents.

“When will you get
Li Ya back to me?” I asked.

“Come to the same
place in the evening, the temple along Patpong at the south end. She will be
there with me, and she will tell you that she does not want to be with you. She
is mine now, maybe forever. Come alone and don’t take any more actions that you
may regret,” the phone clicked dead.

Her bitterness at
me having shared her mistress may seem excessive, but I understood it. They,
Miho and Thuy Binh, were coupled in a far stronger bond than ordinarily married
couples, since they were the holders of each other’s entire past, and would
have sworn a far stronger allegiance than the mundane marital vows couple’s
exchange. They had thrived, ascending to rule the badlands of Pattaya. Then,
Thuy Binh grew bored of her teenage muse, latching on to a more mature and
adult branch of love that came with me entering her life. She had wanted to
enjoy both, the stability of an illicit empire, built on the Miho-alliance,
and, the occasional deviation with me, becoming an ordinary woman, happy in
making a man happy, even if it is for a short duration, away from the province
of prostitution that she ruled.

My reading of Li
Ya was cloudy, since I didn’t know her at all, not having been a part of her
growing years. What I was certain about, was Miho’s ability at luring any to a
world of pleasure with her persuasions. She would create all the colours of
magic with her smoke and mirror tricks of drugs, sex and above all, promises of
a future in which the mysteries of pleasure lay bare for any who took Miho’s
hand. With coke working the senses, the touch of Miho would just take any host
on a voyage of rapture, especially a host who may be entering the world of
derived mineable pleasure with the first few tentative steps of discovery. It
would take time for the pleasure to dull, till finally, the mine of pleasures
would grow dark and deep, with no shimmer of gold and diamonds, eventually
becoming nightmarish, inescapable, and claustrophobic.

It did not upset
me that Li Ya may be sharing her afternoon in bed with Miho, high on coke. The
present, which was a day of drugs and lesbian love, paled when one imagined
where the future was leading Li Ya to. If I could extricate her now and push
her back on to a life of academic pursuits, this would become her memory of a
wild time, to be cherished and related, when the time for recounting escapades
with friends came.

What upset me, in
fact it crushed me was the weight of my own actions, the fact that I was after
all the one who had lost Li Ya, right now during that phone call, I had lost
her. She had chosen not to return to me, chosen to leave me tortured while she
embarked on a day of psychedelic picnics. I had lost my daughter in the day
just past, right after I thought I had found her. I thought I had found a way
of including her in my life; instead, over the years past I had created a
perfect symphony of events, culminating in the loss of Li Ya. I should have
remained in Singapore after my marital breakdown, seeing her on weekends as the
court orders permitted me to, till she refused to see me altogether. Most kids
drift away from fathers estranged by separation with their mothers, such
children simply come to hate their separated parent and the artificial weekends
at the parks and beaches, which keep them away from their homes and the comfort
of their friends and family. To a child, time with an ex-ed parent is a
reminder of their broken family, a reminder they want to eventually avoid and
pass on by. It works well since there is nothing to see and chase in a broken
failed man, even if he is your biological father. I was responsible for Li Ya’s
mental decay, since I
never
saw her,
never
giving her the
opportunity at loathing me. Instead, with my absence, I became the imaginary
pillar on which she leaned, hating Fang Wei and Georgy all the while, not
appreciating what they were providing for her, hating the folks who could steer
her to a decent life. Visualising shouting matches, Fang Wei and Georgy on one
side, Li Ya on the other, I realised how I may have been present, like an
unwanted guest, in their household all the time. I had probably got rid of them
far more effectively that they had of me.

It is important
for children from broken families to hate and loathe their parents; it then
leads them to the pleasure and satisfaction of building complete lives for
themselves. That
hating
had never surfaced in Li Ya, at least not
towards me. Miho would have detailed the mystique and completeness of my life
to Li Ya, through calls and emails, making me the role model, a role that
should be taken up only by a father who remains with his family. Li Ya would
have arranged the bits about her strange Pattaya holiday, piecing together the
picture of Fang Wei’s deceit over time, making me the victim whom she was drawn
towards, first with pity and them idolatry.

The moves were
left for me to make, from the Inn that afternoon. Call Kawai, cut an
arrangement of delivering Miho in exchange for Li Ya. Straightforward, except
that it undermined the evolution of Miho’s thinking; she would cross the
possibility of me handing her over to Kawai with a sword of harm placed right
above Li Ya.

On the other hand,
I could call Fang Wei and Georgy, asking them to intervene and help get Li Ya
back. Logical, except that they would get too much force from the authorities
in Singapore deployed, making the gangsters twitchy and prone to crude resorts.

The option of
simply walking away from the situation, it too was plausible. Li Ya would look
for me, get frightened and uneasy in a few days, and finally take the flight
out of Bangkok.

Eventually, I
chose a completely different path, picking the phone up and calling Inspector
Aziz instead.

Part 4

Sins of the Mekong

Inspector Abdul
Aziz from the Thai police force and I, we knew each other well, but we had
never found a reason to see another. I knew of him from Thuy Binh, since he
acted as the conduit of money and information from our undergrowth through to
the world above, like a light-shaft into the world of governance and law.

Aziz dealt with us
on their behalf, ensuring there were no authoritarian surprises when it came to
the management of prostitution. It was not very different from any other
business that paid its due share of taxes, just that in our case we could
measure the returns that we got from our payments. It was not uncommon for us
to prioritise upgradation of infrastructure, like road works and sewage, over
other neighbourhoods in the city. Conversely, it was not uncommon for Aziz to
demand a bit more than the agreed rates every now and then, depending on the
overall financial deficits of the city. Through the Asian financial crisis, the
prostitution ring had saved the city from bankruptcy, a debt no government
could recognise, yet debts no subsequent government ignored. Inside the police
force, not many would know of Aziz’s existence and role. In fact, if he himself
got in a jam it would take him considerable effort and time to convince and
prove that he was a part of the force that stood on the side of Thai law. He
operated truly under cover, often remaining cut away from the force for months
at end, taking orders from trusted emissaries, once in a while, when the need
to communicate upwards arose. When he did feel the need for messages, he could
reach levels of authority that ordinary policemen would take weeks to simply
explain.

I hope you have
gathered that Aziz was not a corrupt man; he was simply required, to ensure
that a city ran smoothly through good and bad times. Aziz never promised any of
us protection, he simply made a vow of smooth governance, of which
public-opinion was paramount. In fact, irrespective of the bribes, he demanded
that our work be peaceful, conducted in a manner undisruptive of day to day
rhythm. In some sense, like any policeman, he did ensure that the city and its
residents remain in peace. When Thuy Binh’s and Kawai’s clashes had spilled out
on to the streets a decade ago, it was he who had intervened, mediating with a
threat of armed force if the street violence did not end.

When I called him,
he seemed unsurprised by my call.

“Mr. Palash Mitra,
I was waiting to hear from you,” his voice came crystal. I imagined a plain
clothed, undercover, ordinary looking policeman on the far end of the line.

“Inspector Aziz I
need your help,” I said.

“You mustn’t ask
for help without a proper introduction, even if we know who we are. It is not
elegant. Anyway, I can’t talk on this phone line. I am in Bangkok, we can talk
in person, maybe you will be more polite when we meet,” he said, and it struck
me, it was barely a few hours before I wanted to put my plan into action,
politeness was as distant to me as dry-land maybe to a drowning man.

“Lumphini park,
near the reclining Budha, in about half an hour, can you make it?” I asked him.

“Yes I can,” he
hung up.

As I walked to the
park, again, it hit me that he probably knew how I looked, and I was right
since we did not have any trouble meeting one another.

“Mr. Mitra, I know
you have not been too well lately, do you have any coke?” he asked, strolling
alongside me. He was short, in a grey tucked out bush shirt, and a well used
navy blue trouser. His eyes were a bit slanted; he was wheatish in complexion,
like Thai Muslims are.

I handed him some
of my coke, comforted, like when one finds a likeminded friend, to share a bad
habit with.

“What are you
planning on?” he asked, after he was done getting flashed. I needed no
explanations, he was on top of the happenings around me.

“I just want to
rescue her, and, I am sorry I am coming to the point without the politeness
which I know you will excuse, since I am desperate,” I said, pausing, wanting
to know how much of me Aziz already knew.

“Whom do you want
to rescue? Your daughter or your mistress, Thuy Binh,” he asked, still
strolling, pointing up at a blue-breasted kingfisher as it swooped over the
surface of the lake, his fingers followed the bird as it dove into the water,
till it emerged fishless, to his disappointment.

“My daughter,” I
simply said.

“Good, because it
is probably impossible for us to rescue Thuy Binh,” he said, his expression
falling, like when a bad thought clouds a good trip.

“What do you
mean?” I asked.

“She is the past
now, she has been captive with Kawai for a few days, ravaged and left to die,
well beyond the extreme of physical and mental torture that the most fecund
deprivations can inflict. I am sorry; I know you were close to her. She was a
good woman, and I respected her, but there is little that can be done now,” he
said, arresting his stroll to finish his sentence, suddenly turning and facing
me, respectfully touching my shoulder as if in consolation. Aziz, he turned out
to be a good man.

How could Thuy
Binh rise to rule over the men that had raped and ravaged her? She could not,
not without help.

“Look I just want
to get my daughter out of this mess and back to her mother,” I said, hiding my
concern and love for Thuy Binh, wanting Aziz to focus on the matter at hand,
the rescue of Li Ya.

After hearing me,
he was reluctant to get involved, let alone help. Not that my demands were
beyond the capacity of his actions, just that they did not fit well in the
schemes that accommodated Aziz. With Aziz, emotional persuasions were useless;
he was too hardened by a life of crime to be melted by a father wanting to
reunite a daughter with her mother. Aziz found it only amusing that I had
called him for this trivial chore. In the end, what swayed him was the money
that I gave him, right there from my bag, and the promise of more for his help
that evening. With the proposed trade, the need for politeness quickly
disappeared. He pocketed the money with a slight smile to his lips and a faint
frown on the breath that escaped his nose.

“Mr. Mitra, you
may appreciate that I don’t contact many people who actually know who I am,
and, when I do, it is usually business. I will do what you want me to but I
insist that you take this money back, it will make me happy,” he handed back
the wad of notes to me, and I felt small, not having been polite and friendly
with him earlier. He decided to help me simply for his own pleasure.

Years on, this
point of my life became the defining moment. Had Aziz got offended and walked
away, all would be lost.

If my plot closed
as planned, it would probably set right the botch of my entire lifetime. Not
that our lifetime matters, but that the blame we pile upon ourselves is
lessened.

When the light in
the sky began to fade, I traced my steps through the dim sparkle of Patpong
awaking in the early evening. The whores and the lady-boys were arranging
themselves for the night ahead and a few smiled at me, waving me into the dark
holes and bars in the streets, almost as practice calls for the night ahead.

At the end of the
street, the temple was ordinary with a large statue for the reverent to bow and
pray to. I looked around, did not see them, took off my shoes and stepped into
the temple. I prayed an awkward ugly prayer since I could not recall any of the
prayers that I had learnt as a child. It frustrated me, to stumble and stutter
along in my mind as I tried to recollect what at one point had been committed
to memory. It was symptomatic of my life, the inability to build continuously
till the monument of satisfaction is reached towards the twilight years. My
years were just starts and stops with no equity of industry to look back upon
in these advancing years. The empty passage of my life, I prayed a half prayer
for myself to be forgiven by me, absolved for doing nothing in a lifetime.

The prayer was an
involuntary mental diversion. The purpose of entering the temple was to be
visible enough to Miho, so she knew I was here to collect my daughter. When I
turned and slipped my shoes on, a little boy tugged at my shirt and pointed
them out, Miho and Li Ya standing at the edge of the street, hidden well from
me had the boy not come to my aid.

When I walked
towards them, they began moving away, coming to a stop after about twenty
meters, settling in the high chairs of a dingy bar, straight across from the
temple of my failed prayers.

As I sat down I
fingered the empty edges of Kawai’s strange visiting card, circling with my
fingertips the vacant gap left where I had torn the SIM card out, placing it in
an old cell phone, not turning it on yet.

Li Ya was stoned,
placing large expensive shopping bags on the floor of the dirty bar, peering
through her sunglasses wanting to hide her red swollen eyes, from me.

“How are you Li
Ya?” I asked.

“Fine dad, I hope
I did not cause you any anxiety. I called mom too, I told her that I am not
heading to the Gold-Coast with them. I am gonna stay here, joining them when
they fly back home,” she said, her head bent, since she knew it was not an
acceptable recourse and I knew it would have left Fang Wei and Georgy
distraught, probably shattered enough to cancel their trip. They would imagine
her with me and my life of excess, wanting to keep their daughter away from me,
rightfully. They could never imagine what Miho was capable of, as regards
excesses of living went.

“Okay, it is good
that you called them. They would have worried for you,” I said, even toned,
hiding my disappointment in her damaged juvenile decisions.

“Remember, when
you were a kid, we used pray at this time of the evening, on weekends when we
visited the temple?” I put my plans in action, a bit uncertain since I myself
had forgotten the verses which at one time I had tried nailing assiduously into
my child’s memory, in a language that we both barely understood. I should have dwelt
instead on the purport of the prayer and its translation into living actions.

“Yes I remember,”
she trailed off.

“Go to that temple
there and say your prayers, for me, it will make me calm,” I asked Li Ya.

“Dad, please,” she
lamented softly, in the mild meaningless protests that kids reserve as
responses to any paternal instructions. Then she looked at Miho for approval,
which she got with a gentle nod of the head. “Ok I will go and pray at the
temple,” Li Ya rose from the high chair and moved towards the temple. From
where I sat I could see her, moving languidly, even though I was looking at
Miho who was seated facing me, with her back towards the receding figure of Li
Ya. I had planned it such, being able to converse with Miho while I observed
the unfolding of my plan and the efficiency with which my volunteer, Aziz,
executed my wishes.

“She is mine now,”
Miho said, sipping from the golden iced tea that the topless waitress brought
for us.

“No, she was
always yours, from the moment she left my side in Pattaya as a child. You
became her everything from that moment on,” I replied, not really building
logic or moving to any destination with this conversation. I was just buying
time so I could observe what was happening behind Miho in the background. On the
street, I saw Aziz, trailing Li Ya, walking about seven metres behind her. It
was mostly dark by now, yet I could make out the bulge of the sidearm and the
switch blade that he was carrying on him.

“Do you think we
are even now?” I meant Miho having had sex with my daughter as vengeance
against me, the instrument of Thuy Binh’s betrayal, at least in her eyes. In my
eyes, it was silly at my age to think about sex with any one as a sign of
belonging together for a lifetime. Not to say that promiscuity is my motto, it
isn’t, but to enjoy a respectful physical union that completed both
individuals’ desire, that is elegance; and I thought Miho to be childlike in
her possessiveness over her lover, more so since both had risen from the
gutters of whoredom.

I could not see
them, but in my mind I was counting the steps that Aziz was taking towards the
temple and on my wrist watch I was measuring the time we had agreed upon, the
time it would take to finally abduct Li Ya. In my pocket I fiddled with the
power button of the mobile phone in which I had housed the SIM from the strange
visiting card.

“Do I think we are
even now? No I don’t. In any case, Li Ya and I were in love since many years
back. It was just that I respected my marriage to Thuy Binh, like any honest couple
should do without betraying another,” she said, self-confidence from a youth’s
pillar of un-shattered principles exuded her words. Age leaves all our
principles compromised, and us, damaged; hence it is best for us not to
prescribe any mantras to our youth, it will only damage them before their time.
Let them make their own mistakes, they don’t need our help.

I have to say that
I was grateful to Miho for not succumbing to her lust for Li Ya when they were
on the diving expedition, grateful for her restraint, even though it was rooted
in the baseless arguments of nuptial loyalty towards another woman. A life
time, it is too short to love a person, but, having sex with only that person
for a lifetime is another matter. At the back of my mind, I imagined Miho and
Thuy Binh arranging for their own selves a ceremony of marriage, meant to lock
and seal the relationship of lovers, ensuring they were committed, rather
condemned and knotted together, even after time dimmed and eventually killed
the flame. Ridiculous it must have been, like all marriage ceremonies are, and
will be.