Raising the Baton
Page 29
“I’m glad you didn’t hate me. What a great feeling to know you had a—a crush. I wish I knew it at the time.”
“But don’t get the idea that it was a yellow Plymouth you were going to drive to the moon. It was a green Chevrolet. I thought about it a thousand times. My heavens! I never even heard of a yellow Plymouth. No one did.”
“I did.”
No sooner did they hang up with her throwing a fast kiss, when the phone rang again.
“Christopher Straw, Sir.”
“Is this the real Christopher Straw?”
“Yes, sir. Is this the real—the real—the real Raj Bhavnani?”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir.”
“It’s like a miracle requested and answered! Raj! Raj! Raj! We have been going frantic for so long looking for you! Savannah and I have called everyone we could think of calling. We called Voice of America and Air India Radio and asked all kinds of leads we found on Savannah’s internet thing and couldn’t get hold of you. Not just here in the United States but any number of places in Delhi and you weren’t there; that’s all. Then we tried almost every big city in India. Where are you? How are you? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I’m in India and for a while—just a little while—I didn’t feel well. A lot of travelling in India. It’s like America. A big country. You know; the change of climate, food, all kinds of things that are fine but different. I’m fine now.”
“Where are you now?”
“I wish I called but I didn’t want to bother you and Savannah. I am not in a big city. I am in Darjeeling—and Christopher, first, do you have an extension phone?”
“Sure. Of course.”
“Is Savannah listening?”
“No. She doesn’t do that. We don’t spy on each other.”
“Good, good. I just ask because I want to tell you something in confidence because this is just man-talk.”
“What’s up? You in trouble?”
“No, no! I’m in heaven! A girl. The most striking, beautiful, gorgeous, exotic, romantic Tibetan girl—beyond any man’s imagination. She would make Hugh Hefner go crazy.”
“Really?”
“Oh, so very really.”
“Raj, you are saying a Tibetan ‘girl’ not ‘woman’. Is this—is she—I mean could she be your—your granddaughter or something?”
“No, no. To me every woman is a girl. When someone calls me a boy I’m not insulted. I have been called ‘boy’ throughout my life. Why is everyone offended these days? Tara is a girl in everything except years. In years I suppose she’s a woman but who cares about technicalities? Anyway, we danced and danced and danced in the shadow of the Himalayan Mountains. It made ‘romance’ seem like a minor word because this was so much bigger and better.
“Wow! Not bad, Raj. It sounds like you are having a marvelous time.”
“This is what life should be! And it is!”
“Her name is Tara?”
“I thought of your interest in names from Gone with the Wind, but I asked her if she was named Tara after seeing Gone with the Wind and this Tara is named after the Tibetan Goddess whose name is Tara. She is every man’s dream. Not just her looks—but her passion, her entire style. And her dance is beyond words.”
“It sounds like you like her.”
“That is too minor a word.”
“Good for you Raj.”
“Something else—”
“Yes?”
“You ever hear of Aldridge Killbrite?”
“Sure. He runs or is the C.E.O. or President or something of Nova Industries in London or right outside of London making all kinds of rockets and boosters, some of them for NASA sending up supplies to the Space Shuttle and I think they make reusable boosters; first stages for missiles as well. They’re big. Why do you ask?”
“We played golf together.”
“You did? Aldridge Killbrite?”
“Yes, yes!”
“In India?”
“Of course. In Bengaluru. South. Way south. I didn’t even know who he was until we started talking. He knew of what I did during the 1962 War here in India and he’s in all kinds of businesses and I thought you might have heard of what he’s doing in space. When I heard what he did I let him know I knew you. He knew only that you and Savannah Lane were together and he thought you were married. I said that wasn’t true but that you and Savannah have been living together for years and I was a friend. He said the next time you were in London to look him up.”
“That’s very nice but I don’t travel overseas much anymore. Those are the old days. But that was good of you, Raj. I think they’re going to be doing some work for government, too; some rockets to bring supplies up to the Space Shuttle. Raj, would it be alright if I put Savannah on the line, too? She will be so glad that you’re alright. She has been tremendously concerned about you for such a long time. She knows you go your own way but she was truly worried. It has been a long, long time and no one could give us a clue that worked out. Okay if I put her on?”
“I would like that.”
When Anna joined the conversation she was breathlessly excited and joyful that Raj seemed to be fine and was calling to tell them he was fine. “Where are you and what are you doing?”
“Dancing in Darjeeling. I have friends here.”
“That’s way up there, isn’t it?”
“It is. Way up north by the base of the Himalayans.”
“That sounds wonderful! You’re dancing alright? No need for a cane anymore?”
“No, no. That’s done. I put Citizen Cane away and I’m doing what I used to do on any dance floor I can find. And they have a wonderful one here in Darjeeling! Luxurious! Heavenly!”
“I’m so glad!”
“So am I.”
Christopher asked if he would be coming back to the United States soon. He said, “I’ll see. I met a girl—a woman up here and I’ll just see how things go between us.” He cloaked his original enthusiasm since Savannah was now listening to him.
“Good for you, Raj. Bring her here—both of you! There’s plenty of space here at the Bahia whenever you can.”
When the phone call ended, Chris was somewhat silent.
“Are you okay, honey?” And she quickly added, “Did something he said bother you?”
“Yes.”
“What?” Anna asked. “Remember when you had a premonition?”
“Of course.”
“Now I have a premonition.”
“You do? What is it?”
“Raj is an artist at telling stories that are not true. I don’t think he’s in Darjeeling and I don’t think he met a woman that has his interest. With all his talents, one of those talents—a major one—is telling tall tales.”
Anna nodded slowly while he went on. “I hate to say it but I think you’re right. Where do you think he is?”
“I think I know. Not Darjeeling. I just don’t believe him. I believe that he’s still in India but not Darjeeling. For one thing he gave not one detail about the place. Nothing of detail about one of the most magnificent places in the world at the base of the Himalayan Mountains. The base of Mount Kanchenjunga. No detail about the place. In addition, his voice was sort of gravelly. At least—I don’t know—different. My belief, Honey, without any evidence at all is that he is not well. Just a premonition.”
“Where do you think he is?”
“Near the Ganges. The river. Raj takes care of himself. It’s sacred to be near the Ganges.”
Three months later Aldridge Killbrite, the President of Nova Industries in London, sent a letter from one of his offices; this one in Titusville, Florida. He requested that Christopher work for him by teaching a course in his west coast offices near Orange County, California. The course would be under his employ; the officers and staff in a course of study regarding the early days of space from the first ICBM to the first U.S. satellites to the Mercury 7 Astronauts to the entire history of Cape Canaveral’s Pad 14 before it became inactive. Most of his
officers and staff were too young or even unborn to know those days. Then he added an additional request; that he wants Chris and Savannah to be two of the first passengers of his corporation’s non-governmental space vehicle that goes into deep space. There will be no fee as two tickets will be provided by Raj Bhavnani’s written request made days before he passed in Varanasi, India.