ý Damn! This is the best black Iýve ever tried ý Harry said. ý Iým completely blown away too. I didnýt know Iýd get to blow a stick in Hong Kong.ý I replied and sipped my coffee. ý Donýt worry brother. Youýll get every merchandise as long as youýre loaded enough. Crack, smack, ice, brown sugar, coke, ecstasy. You name it.ý Harry said. ý Iým not a junkie, brother.ý I answered back. ý It seems like youýre well spread and informed in these activities.ý i said. ý I am in touch with all the druggies who come in here. They are the sources of all these rumours. At times they boast of their links with the triad members too.ý Harry replied. ý Who are the triads?ý. ý Well, they are to Hong Kong what mafia is to Europe and yakuza to Japan.ý. ý What exactly do triads do?ý ý Drug-trafficking, robbery, prostitution, video piracy, loan sharking etc. Itýs like a cult and their bond is that of brotherhood.ý Hari said. I didnýt say anything but sat quiet gazing at Harryýs gestures high on hashish. Harry seemed more like a gangster himself on his ponytail that looked like a horseýs mane to me. A psychotic effect that took Gopal by hallucinations would have struck him with this thought, and the more i looked at and listened to Harry the more inebriated did we seem to be in our delirium tremens - me on my concentrated silence and Harry on his non-stop blabbering. ý If a triad member is found unfaithful to the group, they will castrate him or take his eye ball off the socket as a punishmentý Harry went on. ýThey donýt kill him; maybe they want the condemned to realize his guilt later after he is mutilated.ý I sat still and agape, my tongue hanging out of my mouth a little, listening to Harry without a single word until i felt my mouth a sticky parch hole. I took a sip of coffee with a splatter as if it would ease me drink without a scald on my tongue, only to realize that it was already cold. I gulped down the remaining half in a single gasp. A western couple with backpacks strutted near the cafý and sat on the table opposite to theirs. ý Iým better be gone now, bro. You have customers waiting at the table.ý I nodded my head at them. ý Okay, brother. Iýll catch you later then.ý. I walked out of the cafý for my apartment. A moment later, i was struggling my way through a horde of people on their walk back homes after hard daysý work. All of them looked hurried along the footpath, and their visages were a sign of hardship, of exhaustion and of anxiety. On a different side, their heads looked more like an army of ants on a mission, to me. Some young couples seemed to me to be in high spirits in their trendy outfits and dyed hairdos, and the way they glued to each other a show of affection, of love and of lust. The hustle and bustle of the people, the revving of the vehicles, the screeching of the tyres and the blaring sound of a sentimental Cantonese song from a nearby shop was all i heard but it all sounded to me a resonance of a diminishing buzz. I hobbled my way through the cul-de-sac that led to our apartment. After few minutes, i reached my buildingýs main gate. A pile of letters and advertising circulars that poke out of our post boxýs opening caught my attention, at the corridor. I took hold of all the letters and started checking it and to my surprise, one of the letters had my name on it. The more surprising part is that the letter was from the immigration department, which had its logo printed on the envelope. I took out the letter only to find out that i was called out for an interview in the immigration department, the next day. Just as i was wondering why would the immigration department call me for an interview, my uncle Ramesh entered the gate. Uncle Ramesh was back from his work and his state looked terrible. His tanned skin on his gooey tee shirt and shorts and his dirty construction boots gave him the look of a rugby player just after a game. The whole vestibule reeked of his smelly sweat as soon as he entered the gate.