A High Voltage Crime Thriller Set In Goa!

Suspense crime thriller Blue Jeans by Dr Manisha Saxena is set in breathtakingly beautiful Goa and explores and digs deep into this milieu. An excerpt:

“So, what happened next?” Jean did not give up pursuing. Abdul cast a queer glance at her and then spoke reluctantly, as he seated himself on a wooden railing.

“He married a Punjabi lady, and their grandson Jai, was about ten years my senior. We often played together as children in that beautiful bungalow until Jai left for London for higher studies. His visits were few and far between so, we saw very less of each other but whenever he was home, he met me. He was a gem of a person. And then, he married Nora, his classmate at the university.” Abdul hurriedly narrated about the family and then stopped suddenly. It seemed he didn’t want to brace the subject anymore.

“Was Nora British?” Jean probed.

“Yes, of course,” said Abdul but appeared distracted by the boat.

“So? What then?” Jean opened her sling bag and lit a cigarette, as she waited to hear more while the pomfret was sputtering in oil in the wok. She offered a cigarette to Abdul, “Hey! Do you want one?”

“No thanks,” Abdul slighted off. “You’ll be bowled over if you see my collection. I have a great variety here,” and with glittering eyes, he pulled out a large metal trunk that was hidden beneath a dumped fishing net, took out a packet and spilled the contents before Jean.

“Grass,” he stated with pride and expected the same reaction of delight from his guest. “I have a more interesting stock too, if you ever want a high...Aunt Nora and Tina rock here, I say. And you

firangis taught me these street names, I wasn’t as smart I guess.” The guy winked at Jean, most unabashedly.

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“Ah! Great indeed!” Jean did not show any surprise, disgust, or even interest for that matter. “Maybe next time when I need a high, but what about that family? I love to hear stories,” she pestered Abdul as she blew out a ring of smoke.

Abdul was both nonplussed at her indifference to reefers, as most of his guests were crazy about them and shocked at her unusual interest in an unknown family.

“Oh, it’s a long story, Miss. I wonder what interests you in their lives. You better savour the pomfret than get entangled in this tale. Zeba,” he called out bossily, “are you done with the pomfret?”

He then turned to Jean again, “And yes, I hardly know any more. It’s high tide and Mandovi is at her full grace this monsoon. Enjoy the wind and the flavours miss,” Abdul said coolly. His face lit up as the small motor boat anchored on the bank and a young man deboarded.

“Hey Marcus! What’s up my boy? You came after a long time,” Abdul hugged the seedy looking young man as Jean sniffed in derision.

The fellow, Marcus, took off his aviators which were moist with water droplets, and wiped them

with a corner of his shirt. He beamed and eyed Jean simultaneously.

“How’s the catch, Uncle Abdul?” He asked while still gazing slyly at Jean, “Looks like you are having a good time.” He then adjusted his monster hip hop cap, put on his aviators, and turned towards the river. Abdul and Marcus sat at a corner table and were soon conversing in muted tones. Zeba then came along with a plate of steaming, blazing, yellow, spicy pomfret, and some lemon pieces. It had a brilliant aroma and Jean loved the tangy coat of the flesh.

Excerpted with permission from Blue Jeans by Dr Manisha Saxena. 

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