Chapter-V: The Magic Marble
I
It rained in torrents with stormy wind all the day sweeping off the sweltering summer heat and the trees wore fresh and gay look, cracks on roads formed poodles and the bare bodied urchins hollered in the muddy fields in revelry and when the rain had subsided at night the golden-frogs reverberated the air with monotonous cacophony inviting the mates and the crescent moon peeped through the floating clouds like a newly wedded bashful bride.
Lambu-Jagu, clammy and groggy in the dank shanty of illegal country liquor, stooped out the lowly door and the fresh cool breeze exhilarated him and he started dancing along in tune with the love songs of the frogs. As he teetered to the narrow track leading to his room a glint from the thicket amazed him and prying closely he came upon a marble stuck in mud underneath the thicket. He got down on haunches and shoving aside the mud picked up the marble and washed it clean in a poodle. It was a large bluish marble and he held it to one eye, keeping the other shut and was bewildered to come upon an enormous space within and multi colored effulgent dots darting around.
He waddled down the track to his tiny room at the back of the large building that housed the gaddi at the ground floor and the residence of the owner at the upper two. He changed dresses, did toilet works, lighted a candle switching off the electric light and after gulping a few draughts of chhaang that burnt all the way down, he held the marble to his eye in the candle light and the marble now started inflating fast like a balloon and in utter horror Jagu discovered himself skating down a slippery track at ever increasing velocity and eventually he closed his awe-struck eyes as he stumbled into a fathomless pit. The downfall ended at last as he struck a spongy ground and was relieved to feel he was not hurt and opening his bleary eyes he noticed around a large brightly lighted enormous hall. He straightened up and felt an uncanny force pulling him ahead and a small white speck curving slowly up in his direction.
The speck grew larger and larger assuming a humanoid form and as it was close enough he observed with awe that the holographic entity in a snow white cloak looked exactly like him and wore a mystic smile that Jagu had never come across. It drew near, looked sharply into Jagu’s bewildered eyes and dissolved into him sending waves of tremors down his spine.
His sleep broke by knocks at the door and he heard the servant boy shrieking, “Jagu sir, boss is calling you to the gaddi.”
Jagu leapt out of bed, got ready in a few minutes tucking the marble into back pocket of the trouser and as soon as he walked into the gaddi, the Marwari snarled in “I’ve told you not to drink much if you have important assignments. Singhji is waiting at the hotel. Take delivery of the sweets right away.” The Marwari handed him the bag containing money and Jagu hurried to the car and sped right off.
II
Jagdish Parsi, fair-complexioned with smart looks, sharp nose, large eyes and six feet in height, was known as lambu-Jagu. His grand father, a very poor porter at Katihar of Bihar, had walked all the way up to North Bengal in quest of work and got settled at a village near Siliguri. Jagu’s father taklu-Chulai was swarthy, had a shining bald head, and always wore a dhoti and a shirt, pale by multiple washing and the gossip ran that they had been bequeathed by his grandfather through his father. He was simple, submissive and had a naïve demeanor and used to sell fried ground nut and dainties to school children who often tried in vain to tease him by calling him ‘taklu chullu’.
Jagu’s mother hatkata-Tepi was a fair beautiful woman and rumor was that she was fathered by Mackenzie sahib, the Scotch tea garden manager, when her mother had been a maid servant in his house. Tepi would stand close to the rail track stretching out a five rupee note fastened at the top of a stick when the steam engines approached the station at slow pace and the firemen in the engine, after collecting the note, would drop down raw coal slabs which she would burn out to coke and sell to the households at good profit. While collecting coal slabs her left hand by accident had caught the wheels and cut off at the wrist and she survived a life-and-death struggle at the hospital. She was cantankerous and used to beat Chulai who returned every night soused with haria, the rice-fermented cheap liquor.
Jagu, though not brilliant, was not a bad student but at class six deto-Haru, the elephant toothed son of the mason, spoilt him by luring him to the charm of chewing wild bhang and hashish leaves that grew in plenty along the rail track and taking him along to the moll girls at the tents of the nomadic Iranis.
Mechho-Bhola, the fish dealer, used to return home drunk every night across the dark football ground. Jagu and Haru according to plan remained hidden in a ditch and as soon as Bhola approached the dark field, they flashed the torch into his eyes and Jagu shoved his hand into his pocket full of money while Haru held him tight. But Bhola, a wrestler, was too strong for them and kicked down Haru who ran right away and grabbing at Jagu’s hand started beating him randomly and Jagu returned home at mid night with torn shirt and beads of blood dripping down his nostrils. Early next dawn Tepi started shouting at the gate of Bhola’s house. Bhola’s wife, maida-Fulmani, whose fair skin looked white like flour owing to anemia, opened the window and shrieked back. Then a lively shower of obscenities in Bhojpuri and Bengali ensued between the two crabby women.
A crowd gathered around taking sides and encouraging them to carry on. Suddenly a gruff voice roared in.
‘You nasty fellows, don’t you have any shame; enjoying the filthy game along with children?’
Beholding pecho-Narayan, the headmaster, who always wore a sullen owl like face, trembling in rage, the crowd dispersed in a moment, Fulmani closed the window, Tepi departed with drooping head and the lively display ended in a melodrama.
Jagu got plucked twice at class six and Tepi pleaded billi-Bhanu, the high school teacher who had a large number of pet cats, to take her son in his coaching class at half the fee and Bhanu agreed at once. A few months later the village reverberated with the hot news that Tepi had eloped with Bhanu who had already resigned from the school job after getting a new job at Raiganj and whose wife was then at her father’s house for childbirth. Tepi, however, returned after a few days and was found hollering at a frolicsome congregation at the market place, ‘if I find that bastard, I’ll drag him back tying a napkin around his neck.’
The news was that they had put up in a hotel at Coochbehar and his brother-in-law, an influential promoter, rushed over to the hotel one morning and Bhanu left with him never to return again.
The uproar quieted down soon, Tepi returned to Chulai’s family and their usual chores were restored. Jagu was now happy that he was free from the ordeals of school and study and he soon got a job at Das’s laundry shop as the helper of the washer man, tikki-Raju who had a long thick tuft at the middle of his shaved head and who used to sleep every noon after taking opium.
Jagu planned with langra-Santu, who limped because of a short leg and while Raju was in deep slumber at midday, they stacked all the undelivered garments along with Raju’s utensils in two large bags and took a bus for Jalpaiguri town and sold the wares to a buyer of stolen goods. The money, by prior agreement, was to be divided equally but while Santu was busy taking tea at a nearby stall, Jagu went out to buy cigarettes and took a rickshaw right away for the railway station with all the money with him and boarded the Darjeeling Mail bogey of the evening train.
He disembarked at Barsai of Bihar at mid night, slept at the waiting hall till morning and then looked for mota-Jhatu at a tea stall the latter used to frequent and could easily recognize the fat dwarfish bootlegger as described by the stolen goods buyer at Jalpaiguri and produced the letter of introduction brought from him. Jhatu, helpless since the arrest of his trusted assistant, welcomed Jagu and soon made him his assistant and permitted him to stay at his shabby den. In a few months Jagu discovered the secret place where Jhatu hid his money and one night while Jhatu was deep asleep after strong drinks, Jagu decamped with the money and boarded the Darjeeling mail, disembarked at Maldah and returned by bus to Siliguri next day.
He rented a small shanty at Deshbandhu para, bought costly garments and started spending money on gambling in order to be rich but the opportunity never came his way and when he was almost broke he chanced upon in the country liquor shop tyara-Biru, the squint-eyed smuggler, who introduced Jagu to his employer bhuri-Om, with a huge pot belly, chubby face and shrewd looks. Omprakash Jajodia liked Jagu’s appearance and assigned him the job of trafficking smuggled goods. Jagu, with his courage and ingratiating attitude, won confidence of the Marwari in no time and was offered to lodge in the backroom of the gaddi and he soon got driving license from the motor training school of the Marwari.
Jagu had an assignment at Matigara and he took the window side seat in the bus at Siliguri town station. The bus got packed up except the seat beside him in no time and a few minutes before start a Bhutia girl boarded the bus and noticing the vacant seat moved down to Jagu and asked in a polite tone in Hindi, ‘May I take this seat?’
“Certainly” Jagu replied with alacrity and the girl got seated. She was tall, voluptuous with a round fair face, deep pink cheeks, red enticing lips and small but intelligent eyes.
‘I’m Sherab Wangmo, from Bhutan, employed at Siliguri and now going to meet my friend at North Bengal University. Please alert me at the stop.’ She displayed a candid smile.
‘No problem. I’ve some business around there and you may get down with me at Shibmandir and take a rickshaw for the university.’
At Shibmandir Jagu bade goodbye to the girl and left for his destination but hurried back as he heard a known Rickshaw puller demanding exorbitant fare from the girl.
‘Bugger, demanding double the rate from my friend?’ Jagu was furious.
The bare bodied gaunt man cringed and mumbled out meekly, ‘Maap kijiye babu (forgive me sir), how could I know the pahari (any hill-race) lady is your friend?’
At the university the rickshaw puller declined to accept the fare and all the way to the girls’ hostel, the handsome suave boy took possession of Sherab’s thought. What a nice chap, he called her his friend! An ecstatic feeling enlivened her and she started blaming herself for forgetting to note down his mobile number.
Next Sunday Jagu was gossiping at noon in a bag shop at the Bidhan market and he looked up to hear a sweet voice calling out “hey” and was intrigued to see the sexy girl close by with a sweet smile.
‘Recognize me?’ She was beaming.
‘Certainly, you’d been in the bus to Matigara. By the way, did the wicked rickshaw puller accept correct fare?’
‘He’s a good person and declined to accept the fare altogether. Don’t blame these poor fellows for charging higher rates from new comers. They earn too little to run a family. By the way, can you help me buy some authentic Chinese wares from Hon Kong market?’
They had coffee at Air View restaurant after shopping and took a rickshaw for the Siliguri Junction station. They talked for hours on end seated at the newly built government bus stand and strolling along the bottle-palm lined driveway to the railway station and across the Mahananda Bridge along Hill Cart Road. Jagu fabricated a story and displayed with emotion like an adept actor that his fifty five year old father was a bank officer at Kolkata and Jagu left home in disgust when he married a teen-age typist immediately after Jagu’s mother had demised. The gullible girl heard him with deep attention and sympathy and she narrated her own story too.
With the hot girl Jagu always felt horny but took care not to elicit any suspicion in her mind. He had not been with girls ever since he contacted syphilitic chancre from the Irani sluts and heavy doses of anti-biotic drugs had to be taken to cure the filthy disease. He should be patient and earn the confidence of the girl and trick her to some hotel of ill repute and enjoy her. The thought made him hot and hard and he hurried off to the bath room to jerk off.
III
Sherab’s father Tengyel Wangmo was a poor laborer at Dotang village near Thimpu and her mother Tshiryang worked at a crafts workshop and they were both devout Buddhists. Sherab was the youngest among three sisters. The eldest sister Kuenley was married to a laborer at the Druk fruit processing factory at Samsi and Dolma, the next, to a shopkeeper at Phuentsholing. Like most of the Bhutia girls Sherab was honest, modest, upright, simple and innocent and also a good student and the philanthropist orange trader of the village, Orongpa Wanchuk, undertook to pay all her expenses at a secondary school at Thimpu. Sherab had a bent for languages and besides her mother dialect Sarchopa, she learnt to speak Dzongkha, English, Hindi and Nepali fluently and also some Bengali. After secondary education she, at the advice of her brother-in-law, took admission to a private computer training school at Phuentsholing staying at her sister’s house. The training was completed in one year and for jobs higher training in India on government scholarship was necessary. She sat for the test for scholarship and dreamt of a bright future but when the results came out she was disappointed not to find her name in the list and all her dreams crumbled in a moment like a house of cards.
That night she genuflected before the image of Lord Buddha and wept for hours and eventually her peace of mind returned while she could surrender her fate to the Tathagata. Next day she was seated at the bank of the river Amo-Chu (Torsha) with her friend Chador Thinley who too had failed to qualify at the test and they noticed an aged Bengali with long beards, grey hair, sunken cheeks and thick glasses walking thoughtfully in their direction. He looked like a dignified professor and they greeted him with bowed heads as he got close by, ‘Namaste sir.’
‘Best wishes daughters. I’m the Botanist of an Ayurvedic Company and looking for some herbs. Have you any idea where can I find these herbs?’
He unfurled a roll of paper and placed before them the picture of the bushy plant they had seen growing in the bank of the river.
‘Yes, look ahead and here they are’, replied Chador pointing at the thicket downstream.
‘Oh my god, they’re here and I’ve been searching for them at wrong places!’
The scientist exclaimed and hurried down to the sand and in a few steps he was caught in quicksand unawares and shrieked in panic while his feet began to be pulled down in the slush. The girls hurried to the spot and Sherab stepped right into the quicksand, jerked the scientist out and fell on her back on the bank with the befuddled scientist in her embrace as Chador pulled at her waist.
Recovering from the shock Dr. Banerjee, the Botanist, looked at the girls with admiring eyes and said, ‘I don’t find any words to express my gratitude; you’ve saved my life by risking your own. I would never be able to repay the indebtedness.’
‘This is just our duty sir.’
‘What are you doing now daughters?’
‘Have taken some computer training and looking for jobs, but it’s very difficult to get jobs without knowledge of programming and we cannot afford that training in India.’
Dr. Banerjee noted down their bio-data and they gave the fax number of the computer center. Next week appointment letters as computer operators at a transnational Ayurvedic company were faxed to them and Sherab was posted at Siliguri and Chador at Coochbehar. Sherab got a one room quarter with attached bath and kitchen at Shevak Road and the pay was good and she started sending money to her parents every month and her dreams came alive again. She would save money and make the lives of her miserable parents free from drudgeries.
She was elated to think of the boy – handsome, smart and courteous and unlike most of the males he is not lewd, never leered at her with lustful eyes, nor did he insinuate at mischief. By the grace of the Lord she’s got her true life mate. Sherab spent hours sleepless and fidgeting in bed as nuances of his company, his miserable life, his struggle to eke out a descent living on his own and above all his sad eyes flashed across her mind.
IV
The passage to the small hotel, fronted by a huge edifice housing travel offices and fancy stalls, was congested and it was difficult to wade through the jumble of rickshaws and pedestrians. Singhji was at the counter and
ushered Jagu right to a small room where they exchanged bags and Jagu checked up the polythene packets containing brown sugar and opium while Singhji counted the money.
After he’d crossed the Mahananda Bridge, Jagu felt a nudge at his butt and he sensed the marble portending trouble and swiveling around, as though in a hypnotic spell, he espied a black car behind and taking detours randomly he found the car still behind and was confirmed it was a police car pursuing him. He made up his mind in no time and contacted over cell phone khaini-Billu, the truck driver and instructed, ‘Cop’s is after my car. Keep your truck ready in five minutes at the middle of the first connecting lane between R. R. Road and R. A. Road and block it as soon as I cross over.’ The Maruti sped along Sevak Road, diverted off to Bidhan Road and accelerated to sudden speed to increase the distance between the two cars before taking a sharp turn to Rammohan Roy Road and Billu at the wheel of the truck, tobacco wad on his palm, grinned and waved as he passed by. At a desolate corner of Rishi Arabindo Road he stopped the car and changed the number plate and contacted the boss, who in a worried tone muttered out ‘Drive right to my Shaktigarh garage avoiding the main roads and wait till my car picks you up.’
In the evening the sky was overcast again and the weather was pleasant and Jagu met the Sarchop girl at the appointed place at Hill Cart Road. Sherab was in tight jeans highlighting her heavy buttocks and the crimson Bhutia outfit glued close to her narrow waist and flat belly, and curved up the two sharp hillocks diving sharply down to the vale sporting the enticing pinkish flesh. The Saluza bar displaying a dreamland in romantic reddish glow, springy carpets and the rhythmic music in subdued tune, was already crowded but the table at the corner was saved for them keeping the request over phone by Sherab. They ordered tandoori with chili chicken and Jagu swallowed the rum raw while Sherab took only a beer.
The girl left off in a rickshaw and Jagu took a short cut down the Bata goli and as soon as he turned corner he was startled by a grave voice, ‘hello boy’ and a hefty lama in deep red robe emerged from the dark corner like a phantom and Jagu felt his legs giving way. ‘He must be a cop’ he thought and stood nonplussed in panic. He followed the lama silently like a programmed robot to a dark nook and got seated beside him at a slab jutting out a closed shop. The lama placed his hand on Jagu’s back and assured him in a polite tone, ‘Relax my boy, I’m not a cop. I’ve some business deal with you.’
Jagu was alarmed that it might be a trick to make him speak out and he gurgled out,
‘Business deal?’
‘Yes my boy. Who’s that Bhutia girl?’
‘How do you know her?’
‘I’ve seen you two roaming around.’
‘She’s just an acquaintance.’
‘But the girl loves you, her looks tell it. You don’t. Am I right?’
‘She’s sexy.’
‘So you’re after sex only, I suppose.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You could get plenty of sex if you are rich.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You could be. I’ll make you. Here’s my deal. Next Friday is holiday and she’s Saturday and Sunday off. Propose her for a trip to Darjeeling for three days and she’ll consent for sure. You have no assignments for this week. So, you could be absent for the three days and may later on invent some pretext and the Marwari who trusts you would buy it.’
‘But what has the trip got to do with myself being rich?’
‘I’m coming to that. At Darjeeling bus stand my men would guide you to a hotel and after checking in you would leave the girl in the room and slink out under the ruse of buying cigarettes and I’ll pay you two lakh (hundred thousand) rupees. You may leave right away with the money or if you like you may accompany my men to Kalimpong where with your looks you could seduce another girl and earn more and if you could lure out girls for me from different places you’d soon be a millionaire.’
Jagu could not believe his ears. So his long cherished dream was going to be fulfilled. It might be some trap though he thought but shook off the idea. One could not be rich without risk.
The lama squinted and displayed a shrewd smile,
‘Don’t hesitate my boy and accept the offer right now. Think of the huge money; you could buy anything in the world – houses, cars and all that stuff; travel places, frequent five-star hotels and posh bars. So you agree?’
Jagu cocked his head skeptically, ‘If you cheat me?’
The lama laughed out loud. ‘How would I gain by cheating you? So I’d be waiting for you at the hotel next Friday, O.K.? Go home and have a good sleep.’ The lama disappeared in the darkness.
Sherab leapt at the proposal of Darjeeling tour over cell phone. She felt as though her heart would burst out in joy. She started singing a festive ga-glu song and dance ecstatically.
V
Thursday evening, the day before their tour, Jagu packed up the suitcase and handbag with essentials, especially woolen garments and while in bed on his back fantasizing the world of opulence, he felt a nudge of the marble and it dawned on him that early morning no rickshaw would be available and he got dressed up in no time and walked over to the road with the luggage. He had not to wait long for the rickshaw and depositing the luggage at the cloak room of the Tensing Norgay bus stand, returned home after having his meal from the drivers’ canteen in a jovial mood lisping Hindi film songs. Returning home, he felt too sleepy to change dress.
At midnight his sleep broke by a sharp nudge on his butt, the marble again. He jumped up and an uncanny force made him leave out the door and walk toward the banyan tree across the field and as soon as he got near to the huge trunk of the tree he was startled by honks and shrill whistles and peeping out the corner of the trunk he descried police vehicles surrounding the house.
The quiet night sky turned alive with announcements on loudspeakers, hollering of the cops, thumps and thuds of rummaging through the rooms and eventually Jagu observed with consternation the cops stacking the jeep with boxes and sacs full of smuggled goods and leading the Marwari in hand-cuff to a black police van. The weird force now pulled Jagu through lanes and alleys for hours and when he was at the bus stand he was relieved at the cawing of the crows and the gold on the eastern horizon.
He got refreshed at the toilet of the bus stand, took delivery of the luggage and while taking breakfast from the snacks stall he saw the girl turning corner with a rucksack on her back and a swaying bag dangling from her hand. He greeted her shrieking, ‘Hey Sherab.’
‘Having breakfast alone, selfish naughty boy?’ She giggled with gusto and trotted over to the stall.
VI
As the bus lurched to a sharp turn unraveling the magnificent hazy valley far bellow, after climbing uphill across the dense forest, Sherab, in excitement, elbowed Jagu out of doze. ‘My god, you’ve been sleeping; look around and watch the fantastic view.’ Jagu smiled meekly and drew a prolonged yawn and wobbled out, ‘Couldn’t sleep last night and feeling drowsy and a bad headache.’
Sherab was a bit disappointed but she soon made friendship with the teen age boy and girl from Kolkata at the seat in front and the three started hollering, whistling and singing as series of enchanting imageries emerged and dissolved in an unending stream. They alighted at Kurseong and had tea with momos. It was foggy and chilly and they put on warm clothes and as the bus geared to the uphill journey a dense fog encompassed them and they got engrossed in dreams of luminous future, she of the happy family with her parents, loving hubby and chubby kids and he of luxury cars, posh bars and hot horny girls.
At Ghoom the driver permitted twenty minutes for tea and it was still foggy and biting cold and they tightened the jackets and woolen caps. The bus honked on time alerting them and Jagu felt numbness coursing down his waist. Sherab tried to help him up but he was too heavy and the bus left off after the last warning and she hastened over to the counter asking for the doctor’s number but Jagu could now straighten up effortlessly and forbade her to call the doctor.
> ‘The bus is gone along with our luggage and how could we go to Darjeeling or retrieve our luggage?’ She looked disconcerted.
‘No problem madam, you’ll get many buses on the road and you may travel the downhill journey standing in case you don’t get vacant seats. You may collect your luggage from the bus depot at Darjeeling, or better contact the driver right now. Here’s his mobile number.’ The counterman wrote down the mobile number and they thanked him.
They got seated to a roadside slab waiting for the next bus and suddenly Jagu broke into sobs.
‘The pain again? I should have called the doctor in.’ Sherab looked worried.
‘No it’s a sciatic pain and would not return in months.’ Jagu lied.
‘Weeping then?’
‘The police arrested my boss last night and I’ll lose the job.’
‘It’s God’s will. I didn’t like you working for that notorious smuggler. You need not worry for the job. The Royal Government had advertised inviting applications from computer operators with work experience in India for highly paid permanent posts. I’d applied and got the appointment letter yesterday. You may accompany me to Thimpu and I hope you’ll soon get a job there.’
‘You are such a good girl Sherab, but I’ve cheated you.’ Jagu blubbered out in fits of weeping.
She was perplexed and could not make out what he meant.
‘Hello boy, my car followed your bus all the way up from Siliguri.’
They looked up at the resonant voice piercing through the fog and peered ahead to decipher the robust lama emerging like an apparition from the translucent veil. Sherab bowed her head in reverence and Jagu’s heart fluttered as he gaped at the shrewd grin of the demon.
Only a few hours back the lama appeared as the messiah who would fulfill his long cherished goal of being rich. But now he appeared like a demon from the hell. Jagu felt remorse as though his heart would break. No doubt he wanted to be rich and for money he had cheated many people. But selling this innocent girl to a whore trafficker? But the die had already been cast and there was no point of return. He thought of the candid girl and a deep pain pierced through his heart. Never before in his life had he experienced such prick of conscience. Why had he become such a knave? His grandfather and father were both honest and naïve; his mother, though garrulous, never did harm to anybody. But why, why had he been inflicting harm on people, who had trusted him, without any remorse all along his life?
He gazed sharply at the lama only a few feet ahead, sporting his blood thirsty teeth, like an infernal creature waiting for his prey. Jagu felt deep hatred and anger rousing him up. He must save the innocent girl from the clutches of this wicked whore trafficker even at the cost of his own life.
‘Sherab, flee right away from the devil to the tea stall. He shrieked out.
‘Oh my god, he’s a sacred Buddhist priest and not a devil. Haven’t ever seen a lama?’
Sherab giggled out loud.
What a silly girl! But how could she know his trusted friend would ruin her life or guess that her grim fate was lurking beneath the sacred robe?
‘No Sherab, you don’t know him. He’ll harm you, run right away.’ He implored.
‘Calm down my boy.’ The lama put his hand on Jagu’s head. ‘All my talks of business were but fabrications and I concocted the stuff to trick you over to this place and here you’re now.’
He paused for a while and continued. ‘You’re changed now my boy. God and devil reside in the same house and your God has now overpowered the devil. The marble did it all.’
Before Jagu’s hazy gaze the lama got transposed to a winged angel and Jagu fell to his feet.
‘I’m a great sinner.’
‘No my boy, you’re now contrite. There’s a monastery not far off. Confess to Lord Buddha and he’ll wash away all your sins.’
‘I’m a Hindu.’
‘My boy, religious differences are man-made and in the kingdom of God we are all his sacred children. Now return me the magic marble.’
The lama reached for the marble and disappeared into the dense fog.
Sherab contacted the driver and instructed him to deposit their luggage at the tea stall on return journey and nudged at Jagu’s hand, ‘Let’s look for the monastery.’
Jagu turned around and was enchanted to watch the lock of hair curving down her pinkish cheek and the blissful smile adorning her candid face.
‘I love you Sherab, trust me.’
‘I’ve trusted you ever since I met you.’
They strode along the foggy path, hand in hand and chanting,
“Buddham sharanam gacchhami
Dhammam sharanam gacchhami
Sangham sharanam gacchhami.”
Blue Are the Far Off Mountains Page 5