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Einstein Petrification Fernandes, although foreign-returned, is a notoriously hard up chap, so broke in fact that whenever they see him strolling up Pestonji Battliwala Road, or some other bustling Mumbai thoroughfare, less hard up chaps tremble at the knees and leap on to the running boards of passing doubledeckers. Knowing this, Petrie has developed a technique all his own; he now stalks his prey with caution, tacks about like an old-time pirate, even comes cruising upwind so his scent may not betray him; and since he never really starves, it must be true that he often scores.

In time, Petrie's devious approach comes to be something of a joke; so when I see him coming straight at me on a Saturday morning I feel perfectly safe in spite of the cash in my pocket, because I know for certain he must really be setting an ambush for Clarence D'Mello, who is sauntering unawares along the opposite sidewalk, or his financially solvent sidekick Appru following close behind. And this, I realize too late, is a fatal mistake.

Petrie pounces on me in a flash.
"Ah, Gustave," he says, "you're a rare bird to catch!"
"The same can be said about you," I say. "I don't remember us meeting in ages!" Which is quite true, seeing how much I've been avoiding him.
"Then come buy me a cup of tea," he says. "I want to talk to you about a hot business proposition."
"How can I treat you to a cup of tea," I say, "when I'm clean out of money?"
"You out of money?" he says, blanching to the color of burnt almond. "Is that the solemn truth?"
"In point of fact," I say, "I was just looking for a high-level financier to lend me a fiver till the end of the month."
"Why, this is terrible news for me," says Petrie, "because I was counting on you to lend me twenty bucks, repayable at ten a.m. Monday sharp."
"Which Monday?" I ask innocently, and he gives me a very dirty look.
"Wait!" he says. "Luck is on our side," he says. "There's Appru D'Souza over there, and if ever there's a chap who's rolling in money it's old Appru.
Wait for me here," Petrie says, "and wave out to him, so as to distract his attention."

So I wave to Appru, against my better judgment, and I wave again, and he waves back at me, and all of a sudden he sees Petrie coming at him sideways, so he leaps on to a passing bus that's already spilling over with passengers and hangs on to its pole for dear life. At once there's a commotion and the conductor rings his bell and the bus stops and Appru gets thrown off. The conductor calls him a dirty motherlover for trying to steal a ride between stops and Appru yells, "Who's trying to steal a ride? Look at the money I've got!" And he takes a wad of notes out of his wallet to show the man, and that's when Petrie comes up and makes a clean nab.

"Let go of me," yells Appru, but Petrie has that bulldog look about him now, and nothing can shake him off. And before you can say Tiruchirapalli, Petrie is springing his hard-luck story on him. And the most surprising thing is that just when Appru should be giving Petrie the brushoff he looks at me inquiring-like and I quickly look the other way because I'm ashamed of having been suckered into being a decoy and can hardly bear to look him in the eye. Then what do I see Appru do but peel two tenners from his wad and give them to Petrie. Then Appru waves to me once more and leaps hurriedly on to another bus, because Petrie has changed his mind about the size of the loan and is now asking him for more.

Then Petrie strolls back across the road and changes a ten for two fives at a sidewalk panwalla's, and with one of the fives he buys himself a handful of country cigarettes. And he saunters up to me and says, "Thanks a lot, buddy, here's the fiver you wanted to borrow, minus a rupee, seeing that I've bought me a few biddis out of it, I knew you wouldn't mind." All of which amazes me, since I can now no longer think of Petrie as just a hard up guyâ"he is now a kindhearted hard up guy, willing to share even the smallest windfall with someone much more affluent but less fortunate than himself.

"Tell me, Petrie," I say, "how did you get two tens?"
"Oh, I took them on your behalf," he says, airily. "I told Appru about how you needed twenty rupees badly, and had even asked me for the money, promising to pay it back Monday first thing in the morning."
"But," I say, "I didn't ask you for any twenty!"
"True, but you came close," Petrie says. "You were this bloody close."

And he holds up a bidi and the index finger of his right hand to show how close I had come. "Besides, you're interrupting me," Petrie says, now sounding quite annoyed.
"I needed a good reason for Appru to lend me twenty bucks, and you're the best reason I could think of. Why,' Appru says, if Gustave tried to raise money off of you, he must really be hard up,' Appru says, because everybody knows, Petrie, you haven't got two paise to rub together, no offence meant.

You're a kindhearted chap,' Appru says, and it's nice of you to ask on Gustave's behalf, but why can't he come and ask me for the loan himself?' That's what Appru said.
"You should have thought of that, too," I say. "Any time I need to make a financial arrangement with Appru, such as asking him for an I'll-pay-you-back-Monday type of thing, I'll go to him directly, but thank God it hasn't gotten to that yet."
"That's just the point," Petrie says, slapping me gleefully on the shoulder. "You're not much the borrowing kind! We all know that! So I told Appru you were feeling kind of ashamed, having known him for so long and never before having borrowed a two-paise bit off him, even for biddis. Which being true, he gave me the money."
"But Petrie," I say, "that's a terrible thing you've doneâ" you have damaged my reputation!"
"I wouldn't worry too much about that, if I were you," says Petrie. "If your credit hadn't been good, we would never have gotten the dough. And now, since you've got yourself four bucks," Petrie says, "and I have my rupee's worth of biddis and fifteen bucks as well, I'll just tootle off," he says.
"And by the way," Petrie says, "if you're really gung ho about protecting your reputation, Gustave, don't forget to return Appru the twenty bucks first thing Monday morning, because I said you would, most definitely, and if you don't you'll be ruining my name forever," he says.

"The Kindhearted Chap" is one of 15 short stories in Victor Rangel-Ribeiro's collection, "Loving Ayesha and Other Tales from Near and Far," scheduled for publication in Spring of 2002.

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