My Hanuman tattoo on my back was more than just decoration, I made sure to let him know. "So try harder, cunt," I challenged him. From that day on, I started calling him Charles, although he hadn't connected the dots yet. Little did he know that Charles Sobhraj, released from jail in Nepal, might just be a cousin of the Hindu and on his way to Goose Farm. At this point, nothing surprises me anymore.
Raj, my landlord, traces his royal bloodline back to 1871 when the royal family was established, adopting a goose as their emblem. However, the Fiji royal family was dismantled after an Indian took control of the country in a military coup. Raj is a cousin of the Hindu and has brought shame to the Cakobau monarchy that still circulates in the cocktail circuit. "Better to be a dictator than a prince," Raj, who changed his surname to Bombay, proclaims. The room I rent from him is a slum, previously the Hindu's den for illicit activities and drug use. No matter how hard I try to wash away the blood stains from syringe shots on my bedroom ceiling, they remain stubbornly present. But I assure Raj that I'm not here for creature comforts; I'm here for the entertainment. Slowly but surely, he seems to be warming up to the idea. And I suspect he feels the same about me.
Raj still rules like a petty tyrant. Every new arrival from Fiji must seek the Hindu's blessings, which usually involve a handsome payment and loyalty to his mini kingdom at Goose Farm. He has built up a small empire of houses, but he remains tight-lipped about the details. Raj Bombay is a Hindu of mixed Indian and Fijian heritage. His weakness is his attraction to white women. Every Fijian aspires to bed a white woman and impregnate her with their "coconut seed." Thankfully, the tabloids haven't caught wind of this story. If Dutton were still in power, he would have them all shipped back in chains to their home country. Dutton is now the opposition leader, but during his tenure as immigration minister, he made sure the press had footage of criminals being sent back to their countries of origin. The New Zealand government kept quiet about it, not wanting to jeopardize their people's access to Australia. Their economy would collapse without it.
Despite Raj Bombay's name change and being wiped from the family tree, he still rules Goose Farm with an iron fist. Just yesterday, he had one of his geese executed without hesitation. "The pussy wouldn't do it himself," Johnny, a fellow Fijian summoned to Goose Farm for the task, revealed. The Hindu grows on you like a fungus, the kind that infects an ant's brain, compelling it to march up a tree and dangle from a leaf so the fungus can impregnate it with its devilish seed in a leafy and sunny environment. Yes, that's the Hindu—fucking foot rot.