SacredGames excerpt

From Sacred Games by Vikram Chandra

 They were quiet when they pulled up into the curve of Juhu Chowpatty, through the compacted clog of rush-hour traffic. Sartaj walked around the front of the Gypsy, feeling a faint brush of air from the ocean. The chaat stands were neon-lit already, and the customers were streaming in from the road. 'Tell the boys I said Salaam,' Sartaj said. Katekar grinned. 'Yes, saab.' He put his hand on his chest for a moment, and then walked towards the beach. Sartaj watched him go, the confident rolling walk, the heavy-shouldered sway, the clipped hair. An experienced eye would pick him out for a policeman in a moment, but he had a talent for shadowing, and they had made some good arrests together. As he rode through Ville Parle, Sartaj hummed Man ja khuda, itni si hai dua, but he couldn't remember the end of the song. He knew the tune would spin in his head all day, and the last antra would come to him very late, somewhere between night and sleep. Man ja ay khuda, he sang.  ...

© Vikram Chandra