Gemscentric

Written by Julian Robov

Five


Next day, Potch’s driver arrived punctually at the Holiday Inn to pick up Rudy. The Rolls Royce Silver Seraph pulled up to the entrance of her new house—not too far from the Dhammakaya Temple. The forecourt of the house was designed, keeping true to traditional Javanese characteristics. A rare fete by a Thai. At first he thought he was entering a temple. The surrounding rice paddy fields fortified the whole natural environs beyond explanation. The house looked very different from the traditional Thai designs, a pleasing fusion between eastern and western concepts. “Please follow me, sir,” the driver said.

Rudy had never seen such a house before. Its natural ventilation, symmetrical wings approached by a broad flight of steps sat comfortably in this quiet landscape, romantic, beautiful, and proportioned—like a well cut gemstone. Their final destination was the ladies sitting room where Potch, and a few other women were comfortably seated. He didn’t bother to count. She motioned him to the green cushioned chair so that he could be seen by everyone.

She introduced him to her friends. Being a foreigner also attracted much interest among the ladies, each of them dripping with expensive jewelry, something quite popular among the rich echelons of Thai society. They loved wearing big gemstones as part of their status symbol. When Potch let her friends know that he had just been released from Khmer Rouge captivity, that aroused special interest and direct questions.
“Rudy specializes in blue sapphires from Pailin.” That statement by Potch brought several glances.
The short-looking woman to his right asked, “Why did the Khmer Rouge soldiers catch you in the first place? They are very cruel. My husband used to talk a lot about them.”
“It all just happened. It’s a long story. It was a set up,” he added.
“I know who goes to that God forbidden country. Only guerrilla capitalists and push-cart gem dealers who know only one thing—gemstones, money, corruption, sex and exploitation. Am I right?” The woman was too direct. If he remembered correctly—her name was Suwannee something.
“Suwannee is one of my partners,” Potch interrupted.
“So you know a lot about gemstones. You’re right in a way. That’s how we are all forced to do business in that part of the world. This tradition is everywhere except maybe in the West,” Rudy replied.
A tall woman to his left had something to ask. “I love blue sapphires, and I’m told the colors match very closely to that of Kashmir sapphires. Is it true? In fact, I have one right now. A 15carat piece. My jeweler said it was from Burma. How do you know if it came from Burma, Palin or Kashmir?”
“Khanita Taafai owns a tour company. In fact, the biggest in Bangkok,” Potch said.
“Well, it’s a tricky question. Only scientific identification can prove the origin of blue sapphires from Burma, Pailin or Kashmir. Let me start first with Kashmir. The mines are not operational today due to its geographical location. Whatever you see or hear today about Kashmir sapphires are old collections. The color of Kashmir blue sapphires in the trade are often referred to as cornflower blue. Sometimes even blue sapphires coming from Burma or Pailin may show a very close characteristic of Kashmir blue sapphires. To confirm any blue sapphires of unique Kashmir color, you will have to send it to Switzerland. There are one or two laboratories specializing in origin confirmation,” Rudy answered.
An unusually fat-looking woman seated near to Potch aired her views. “We have blue sapphires, I mean, really good ones from Kanchanaburi and Ubon Rachathani. They are as good and beautiful as Pailin, Burmese or Kashmir. In fact, I must tell you this, I wear only Thai blue sapphires. I’ll wear anything, if I’m convinced that it originated from Thailand.”
“How do you know your blue sapphires originated from Thailand?” Rudy asked politely.
“My family owns the mines in this country. You see, when I compare our stones with other localities, I don’t see any difference. They are as blue and beautiful as other famous localities. I must tell you this. People who buy from us may sell them to the rich or ignorant as Burmese or Pailin because the market loves to pay a premium.”
Rudy felt humbled by her statement. He saw the evidence on her body. A huge gold necklace on her neck by first count had fifteen oval shaped blue sapphires with a big center stone weighing at least thirty carats. Her eight fingers had rings embedded with blue sapphires weighing at least 10carats each. The blue color flashes were so intense and brilliant under the incandescent light, those pieces must have been the best colored stones he had seen so far. There was no doubt that she was promoting her blue sapphires, and the country itself by her extravagant statements. He could only wish the mines she owned produced big stones uninterruptedly. And most important of all, she was a successful business woman, and a friend of Potch.
“I have supplied blue sapphires, only good ones,” she added, “to all politicians, military men and their wives. I sell my stones only to Thais—not to foreigners. In the beginning tour operators, and some friends used to bring customers to my office in Kanchanaburi, but they don’t understand quality and price. They always want good ones for cheap prices. I stopped entertaining them because they don’t have a culture of appreciating a good blue sapphire from junk—the ones you see in local jewelry stores around the country. I have no problem convincing my good customers because they know what I’m talking about, and I don’t bluff. Also, I know they will check my stones with others, and when they realize how good my stones are there isn’t much to talk about. My stones have already spoken. That’s why they keep coming back to my office. I’m happy to say that I have what my competitors don’t have.”

Potch listened to her good friend, Busaban Sulinam’s extravagant speech quietly. She believed it was the right time to go for a break. She motioned to the chef from Shangri-la that they were ready for dinner. The chef poured in each glass Potch’s favorite, Chateau de Loei, from Loei province. Everyone took a sip and acknowledged its taste. She swapped her seat with Chintima Phayufonh, wife of a top finance executive, who was seated next to Rudy so that she could be closer to him.
“You can learn a lot from Busaban. Who knows? Someday you will be doing business with her. But, she is like that. Don’t take it too seriously. She is good hearted because I know her very well,” she whispered.
“I can understand that,” he replied.
“And one more thing,” she continued, “she is separated from her husband.”
“What happened?”
“Her husband had several mia noi’s (mistresses) and which wife can stand that fun. My husband is at least faithful. I think so, na,” she quipped.
Rudy giggled at her comment. She too followed him.
“Are you married?” Busaban asked.
“Nope. A reformed bachelor, I suppose,” Rudy said. That comment brought an immediate applause.
“How can you stay alone for such a long time given the temptations around?” Busaban asked again.
Potch knew that Busaban had taken an interest in him, and she had to do something to neutralize the situation to avoid any embarrassing situation, as the wine started to flow and fired up her veins. Instead, she switched the topic to religion. Even though it seemed inappropriate, she took the liberty to make a point. But Chintima who sat throughout the session without making any comment decided to air her views. Potch consented.
“I have to bring to your attention an important event. Sting, my favorite musician, and yours too, of course, is coming to Bangkok. His first concert in town. I’ve taken the liberty to announce that I’ve bought tickets for all our members.”
There was an immediate applause from the women. Chintima Phayufonh was the Chairwoman of The Blue Color Club, a meeting place where women interested in blue gemstones congregated to show off their recent collections of jewelry, and other assortments. That way they paraded their wealth. Even the top jewelers in town didn’t mind bringing their latest designs for their critical reviews.

The food kept arriving and the chef cleverly arranged them as if he knew well in advance everyone’s taste and preferences. Rudy’s attention focused on two women: Potch and Busaban. Potch was probably in her late fifties, but looked much younger, a possible forty or even an early fifty. Her physical features resembled a perfect cut gemstone—symmetrical and well-proportioned—with no bulge. Her most distinguishing features were her deep green eyes—like two of the purest green sapphires, each fixed in its own socket radiating flashes and twinkle, as her eyes shone. They were so beautiful, Rudy couldn’t, at times, take his eyes away from her. Her cantaloupe-sized breasts stood out in full blush, and the incandescent environment made it look—like large-sized fluorescent cabochon cut pinkish red ruby. She had onyx colored flowing hair, and with each twist and turn, it fell back on her shoulders—like sea waves. They were just gorgeous—a perfect creation of God. His attention shifted to Busaban, who was drinking wine. She was still cool and well composed, despite her aggressive intake of food and wine. Her strong-looking body seemed to accommodate her lavish tastes. But she too was attractive in her own way. She had a cushion face, and that thought reminded him of a blue sapphire he had several years ago, cut exactly like her face. The mixed cut, and the number of facets, made the stone look bigger than its actual size. A clever handicraft of a gem cutter, if he knew how to make it look bigger, without losing much weight. She too seemed to look in her fifties, but not anywhere close to Potch.

Busaban did have a moderate bulge, but the way she dressed, and the surrounding lighting cleverly hid those slight imperfections. Her breasts resembled a medium sized watermelon—less colorful, and the short hair she had was definitely dyed to hide her age, but overall, he gave a fair to good grade. Potch knew Rudy was grading her with his eyes. Instead of embarrassing him, she too gave him a meaningful wink, which meant it was okay. He moved his face away from her, and turned his attention on food and drinks.

Rudy’s mind was orbiting elsewhere. He was now approaching forty five. In fact, on the fifth of July. He couldn’t believe how it had all passed like a mirage—forty five years. Now there was a sudden shift in their conversation. The topic moved to politics. They all had a common stand regarding the coming elections. Potch never hid her strong affiliation with the Democratic Party. She had contributed heavily to their cause, and believed it was the most suitable and well liked party by the majority—to rule the country beyond the millennium. But Suwannee believed the Democrats were brainwashing the country and the people with technical jargon. It was difficult to understand economic theories in order to make the ignorant believe it was only the Democrats, who knew the problem so that they should be left alone to solve the mess. She wanted a national government so that there would not be any confusion and favoritism in the long run till the economy turned around in the coming years. Busaban believed the country should be run by technocrats, not the corrupt and crooked politicians, who had only one aim: money and women. They never had any interest in the affairs of the people and were master manipulators when it came to government contracts and concessions. She believed they should all be drugged, and sent to America to be launched into space, perhaps to Jupiter or Mars, never again to be seen on this planet. She hated them.

Khanita wanted nothing. She knew there wasn’t going to be any change in the coming several decades. The same politics and problems were going to continue to haunt the country, and the economy. Her only interest remained in bringing into the country as many tourists as possible. That way everyone benefited. She made it a rule that twenty percent of her income went to a temple—any temple in the country.

And finally, Potch’s attention turned to Rudy. She realized he must be swearing to all Gods for being forced to listen to their personal conversation. Instead, she decided for him to take the stage, and they had no problem.
“Can I call you Rudy?” It was Khanita again.
“Sure.” He glanced at Potch. She nodded.
“I have thousands of tourists coming to this country on our behalf. I do know Thailand has large gem deposits, and gemstones are part of our culture. Now, if we had a transparent system, and we have so many types of gemstones in this country, why can’t we do something about it? I mean, think about the tourists I bring into the country. They should be going to a reliable place and buying the real thing at a fair price. Instead what do we have? Crooks and bimbos all out in the streets cheating the innocents—selling all sorts of junk, putting them off from ever coming back. In the past, I have had a lot of complaints from my clients abroad. I tried convincing the trade and the government. They were all good listeners, but when it came to implementation, the same old gangs were out in the streets—to loot again. Why don’t we do something about it?”
“You have identified the problem correctly,” Rudy replied. “I think given the right environment, and the natural resources this country has, I don’t see any reason why we can’t do something about it—instead of expecting a positive gesture from the government, when we all know that it doesn’t work. They are pathetically slow.”
“We have Busaban, who owns the mines, and Rudy who specializes in blue sapphires from Pailin. Why don’t you two together work something out of this wonderful opportunity, which has been lying dormant for such a long time?” Chintima said.
“It’s not as easy as you think. There are logistical problems, and working with an industry, which is quite organized and stubborn, and going against their will could invite all sorts of problems,” Potch interrupted.
“I think you’re right,” Rudy answered. “What do we have here? Khun Khanita has an established tour company. Khun Busaban owns the major gemstones mines in this country. Maybe, we could go parallel.”
“Rudy has a point. He knows his market. Busaban and Khanita control a different market. If you can merge together in a magic combination, then believe me the whole world may want to imitate your success formula.” Chintima stepped in.
“What a perfect idea! Everyone benefits. We, the country, the people—and, of course, our clients too,” Potch quipped.
“So, what are we waiting for? Let’s join the treasure hunt and be happy,” Busaban poured more wine into the glasses.
Rudy glanced at his watch. She reminded the group of the date, time, and location of the next Blue Color Club session. They took turns, and the next meeting was going to be at Busaban’s residence.
“We want to thank Rudy for enlightening us today and sharing his thoughts. It was fantastic,” Chintima said.
There was a unanimous agreement, as they began to rise from the table.
“Stay a bit late. You can stay here if you want, instead of getting stuck in the traffic. It’s already late night,” Potch whispered.
“I have to go this time. Tomorrow early morning, I’m to be in Chantaburi with James. I’m trying to put back together our old team,” Rudy said.
“How long do you think you are going to stay at the Holiday Inn? I’ve a condo at SV City. It’s not too far from Silom Road. You have everything. It’s my wish that you stay there, and as you know, only a few friends enjoy this privilege,” she said.
“I very much appreciate this gesture,” Rudy replied.
“And, it is free. You pay nothing. Be my guest and partner,” she continued, “and you will stay here tonight. My driver can drop you anywhere in Bangkok. What time do you want to meet James?”
“Seven.”
“Uh-huh, that’s not a problem. Give me some company tonight, will you? The ladies will be out in a short while. My husband is in China, signing new contracts and eating scorpions; and snakes too. I have difficulty trusting him. My two girls are studying in New Zealand. I know how they behave when they are alone. Somehow we have to keep our relationship discreetly steady because there is lot of money at stake—and, of course, the family name. It’s just a show business, you know. About my children? My friends remind me always that they belong to fucked up generation. What else do I need? I’m alone at the moment. And, we have a lot to discuss, don’t we?” She leaned over to Rudy and said, “I really want to help you this time.”
“Thank you.”