Sahr, true to her word, had made my favorite dish and set the table with china, silverware, and an iced tumbler. One setting. I sighed and took my place, while she came out to silently place a steaming plate in front of me and pour the ale. She paused to study me, look at my eyes and the lines of my face, to see where I had gone. She saw the cane in the corner and then I held out my hand to her. We hugged and I felt her sobbing. “I was sure you were with the spirits, Bhimaji.” She shook her head. “Durgubal was right; death came at dawn and I thought . . . ” She left it unsaid.
“He was right, Sahr. You were right, but I didn’t die, and neither did Uli or Jitka. Innocent people did, and the fiend responsible for all of it has escaped the country.” I took a bite and savored the chicken and vegetables and the peace of a quiet meal in the villa.
“Sutradharak?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered wearily. “The same one I played Frisbee with twice a week, it would seem.”
“You look exhausted, Saab. I will not ask more questions.”
I smiled to myself. She was right, I was bone weary, but her questions were simmering more than the bhiryani. A few more wouldn’t add to my fatigue. “What do you want to know, Oh Curious one?” That brought a smile.
“The Memsahib, did she do what the Imams say?”
I took another bite and thought about it. “That depends on what they say she did, I suppose. She did help her father with an idea for the cartoons they hate so much. She also saved five people in the explosion at Bareilly.”
Sahr nodded. “They say that also.”
That stunned me. “Who says that?”
“Most of the city. Even the Imam Nomani acknowledges that she saved Muslim lives. Qereshy is unnaturally silent on these matters, and some say he is being questioned by the authorities from Delhi.”
“Intelligence agencies?”
“Yes, about his connection to Madru Ralki.” She changed the subject. “The radio says Miss Uliana saved sixteen people from drowning. Is it true?”
I took a long draught of the ale, almost draining the glass. “That’s exaggerating it about threefold.”
“And they say you saved them also?”
“I did. It was only what I had to do, and it probably wouldn’t have turned out so well if your warning hadn’t come back to me at the right time.” That brought another smile. “Okay, one more question before I fall face-first into the bhyriani.”
She topped off the tumbler with more ale. “When will you leave us?” This question didn’t surprise me.
“It’s that obvious?”
“You forget too often that I am a nabi. Even without my cards it would be clear. You must go to your premika as soon as you can.”
“I know,” I sighed, “but I will bee here long enough to see to your well-being and finish my work here. It’s very important to me, Sahr.”
She patted my hand. “My well-being is already seen to, Bhimaji. Mr. Vinduram Singh has…”
“Asked you to marry him?” I interrupted.
She thrust her shoulders back in mock indignation, refocusing me of the enormity of her bosom, and laughed. “No, he wishes that we go steady for now, I think that is how the young people call it. But he is calling every hour and making excuses to drive by a dozen time a day. We went to the cinema last night, and now he is more nervous and more respectful.” She squeezed my wrist. “He will ask me soon. It is in my cards. He has also asked me if I wish to take a job in a restaurant in Bhelpura.”
“Really? Let me guess, cooking?”
She nodded. “It is a very popular place, quite modern, and they want new dishes for their menu.”
“That’s perfect, Sahr, your talents will fit in perfectly. What about Lalji? What will he do?”
“Did he not tell you? He and his friends are starting a security company to guard the houses of the wealthy. One of them actually seems to know what he is doing, and my boy is motivated.” She made a fleeting attempt to look motherly. “And he has a girlfriend.”
“Yes,” I replied. “I noticed.”
I dined on the last of the meal, indulged myself with a second lager, and then crawled beneath the fan and a single sheet to sleep without dreams.
The swelling in my ankle had relocated to my head the following morning. It ached more from the effects of three days of travel and my empty bed than the previous night’s lager. A long, tepid shower, pakoras, fresh fruit, and two cups of Nilgiri coffee had me reasonably recuperated by nine. I selected light cotton trousers and a favorite kurta, then phoned Devamukti’s house on Chandragupta’s cell phone.
Sukshmi answered. “And how is my number one dancing partner and hero of the decade?”
“Feeling very fortunate to be alive,” I laughed. “I assume you have heard the newest gossip?”
“I have, and so have mother and father. Father wishes to see you about two minutes ago.”
“His watch is still functioning correctly?”
I heard her smiling through the phone. “Even less so now. By the way I have a large bone to pick with you.”
I winced. “You really must stop using those types of phrases, Sukshmi. Your own are much prettier than your modern friends who use that stuff. So, what have I done wrong now?”
She laughed breezely. “Now I wonder who kidnapped the shy Bhimaji I once knew, the one who always mumbled namaste with his eyes dropping nervously to his feet.”
“Still here, Sukshmi, along with the old Martin Scott and the new one. All here, just grown together now.”
A quiet followed and in a husky voice she said, “I shall miss them, BhimajiMartinScott, all of them. But I am still displeased that you didn’t ask me to dance one last time. I am to be married next month, you know, a big fancy affair that father has taken over all the plans for. Dipak and I would have had a small ceremony, you know, just friends and family. But father has invited every Brahmin in the province and most other castes as well. So . . . enough of that. Uliana is safely away, and rumor tells me that you will follow her?”
“Yes,” I admitted quietly, “How could I not, Sukshmi? I came here running away. What I run to now is everything to do with love. It is a good place to be running to. Listen, I have some place I must be this morning. Can you tell Devamukti that I will come to the house at two?”
I felt her smiling. “Your Uli is a fortunate woman, Bhim. You run to her as fast as you can. I will tell father that you will be here. He will be tapping his cane until you arrive.”
“Undoubtedly,” I sighed.
We hung up and I hailed a taxi to Benares Hindu University.
Seventy-Seven
Adam was also walking with a cane when I found him, hobbling along the walkway near the great library. Even that he did with grace. An entourage of students and disciples moved about him like magnetized metal shavings. As usual, he didn’t seem surprised to see my approach, and hailed me from a good distance away. “Martin, my good friend. We wear our battle wounds proudly, do we not? Come, let us retell our tales and share a Fanta in the shade.” With that, a bottle of the orange soda materialized from an unseen cooler within the crowd. He whispered something to one of the followers, who in turn spoke to the others, and the group moved off and melted into the gardens beside the path. Almost instantly Adam and I were alone with nothing but the cold drink between us.
I went to fold my hands, but he reached out and took one in his.
“You referred to me as Martin,” I said with a laugh, “but you realized that, of course,”
He offered me the bottle, and I took it, feeling the cold against my palm, the moisture on the cracked lettering, and the release of carbonation and sweet flavor into the air. “Of course,’ he replied, “there is little that I don’t pay attention to in my actions and thoughts these days. It comes with practice.”
I nodded. “I’ve come to understand that about you. You’re aware of all of it, aren’t you? From your words and movements to your breath and beating of your heart. It’s as if you�
��re measuring each one.”
He smiled and led us through the arched walkway that ran the length of the library. “Yes, I do. I feel it, my respiration, my blood, digestive juices, the synapses of my brain. It is all rather fascinating and it takes practice, of course, but I feel life inside me and out. There is no difference between, just space and the great energy.”
He stopped at a stone seat underneath one of the arches and lowered himself slowly, his healing leg stretched out in front of him. I took the space next to him, and for a few moments we sat listening to the far off lowing of cows and the melody of the city. When eventually I spoke, it was from a place of sadness. “He nearly succeeded, Adam. I keep thinking about that, the thousands that would have died.”
He turned to face me. “But he didn’t succeed, did he? He has come and passed, and now it is time for the good people to focus on the good things.”
I let out a small laugh. “You sounded like Uliana just then. She says the exact same words to me.”
“That’s because she knows it in her heart, Martin, and the faster you go to her, the faster you will do greater things together.” He tapped the ground lightly with his cane. “You have your entire lives to accomplish it together. Already you have done so much.”
I looked at our legs wrapped in bandages and thought of the other scars we bore. “You really do see it as a battle don’t you?”
He didn’t answer immediately, instead he ran his hand across the surface of the bench where we sat. “You know,” he said finally, “right here is where I had my first revelation, Adam’s epiphany, if you will. It was right on this bench in the exact place where you are sitting.”
I looked at him, puzzled.
“It was my twelfth birthday and C.G. brought me to this spot. I remember the detail as if it were yesterday. It was evening, and we had been to the cinema and the park, and it was winter and cold, and no students were about. He was my father to me and Mundika was my mother, the only parents I had ever known. But twelve is the proper age to know the truth, so C.G. made certain I understood exactly who my birth mother was, where I came from. Right where you are sitting I learned about the evil of hatred, about my caste, my supposed place in life. It was then that I chose to fight against it. I have seen it as a battle since. Not too long afterwards they sent me to England.”
“He was trying to protect you, wasn’t he?”
“And to give me a chance to use my gift.” He reached down to scratch his calf. “There is so much to learn, Martin, so much to teach.”
I asked the question that had twisted inside me for more than a week. “Adam, why do you take the duties of a dom? Why lift corpses at Manikarnika?”
He laughed gently and tapped my hand with his. “Lifting corpses is not such an awful task when it is done with respect and love. You learned that. But truthfully, it was a vow I took to honor my birth mother. I did it to honor all the harijans of this ancient, but often regressive, city. It was a simple way to demonstrate good. And now, if I can change the subject, I need you to know a few things that will be of importance to you. The cave was re-opened yesterday and there is, as C.G. anticipated, an entirely new room to be translated. But do not be concerned with a need to stay here to help. Devamukti will have all the assistance he could ever desire. It will be given to younger minds, and Devi will oversee it. These students who were with me earlier are some of the brightest Sanskrit students in BHU. And there is a young woman who is the best among them. Coincidentally, she is harijan.” He clapped his hands together with a laugh. “I do love irony when it slaps ugliness right in the chops like that, don’t you?”
I smiled. I liked irony when it did that too. “What about the medical parts, the clinical trials, and double blind tests, and all that? Devi knows nothing about it.”
“Satnam’s charge. His Ayurvedic committees have begun preparing reports for the medical journals. It will be delightful to see what comes from it, and it will certainly shed some needed light on alternative medicine.”
“And on Sanskrit,” I added absently.
“Ah yes, your beloved language. It will become front page news again, just like it was three thousand years ago.” He patted my hand again. “I suppose there is another little secret I should share with you.”
“And what is that?”
“You have wondered over the years how I knew you were arriving at the train station the evening I named you Bhim, the time I gave you your namaghanda, have you not?”
I nodded. “About once a week, sometimes a few times a day. You seemed to somehow know I was leaving my old life in search of a new one.”
The enigmatic smiled played across his lips and into his eyes. “I was with you, Martin, on the train that same afternoon. I was returning to Varanasi after thirteen years of being away, coming home to C.G. and Mundika, and I watched you. I saw a very sad man indeed, one who needed a new name in his search for a new life. It wasn’t difficult to see, and you were so strong in body that the name Bhim came to me.”
I started chuckling, slowly at first and it built and rolled into a deep belly laugh that shook me to my swollen ankle. “On the train with me? Excuse me, but shit, I’ve been wondering for three years how you knew of my my arrival. I mean, you were waiting for me to step onto the platform.”
“I was waiting for you, Martin. I knew you had arrived to do good things. That light was in your eyes, even when they were dark and filled with sadness. It still is.”
I sighed. “I hope so. It’s odd, but since returning from Delhi, I’ve felt everyone is releasing me, moving on and letting me know it’s okay for me to leave.”
“They are telling you that, Martin. Now . . . turn and look all the way down the walkway to the left.”
I turned my back to him and looked through the arches with climbing vines wrapped like lovers. I thought of Uli and our new life. Adam untied my namaghanda and placed it in my hands.
“Keep this. You will always be Bhimaji of Varanasi, but now you may leave and go home again, Martin Chandler Scott.” Adam hugged me warmly and after a few minutes we turned to hobble off in our different directions. As I settled myself into an autorick to travel to Master’s, it occurred to me that I had never mentioned my middle name to anyone during my travels.
When I arrived at Devi’s I saw that the herd of buffalo had finally arrived. The compound was teeming and had none of the tranquility of previous months. Two distinct groups stood in the parlor, strangers in prickly foreign dress with officious looking satchels hovered on the inside near Master. Some wore media ID, and they were all scribbling on legal pads. A few were observing the protocols of a Brahmin’s home. Too few. Around them were the Hindus and Muslims who stood quietly in the presence of the respected pundit who was just then answering a question, “Yes, the cave has been re-opened, and excavation is taking place at this moment.” Another question came from the audience and Devi answered, “No, it is being done by hand, very carefully.”
With a few bows and namastes, Mirabai ushered me through, and Masterji, seeing me, rose from his seat and with a wag of his head called to the room, “Very well, we will pause for refreshments. I will continue in twenty minutes. I have a previous engagement, you see, with this young man, Bhimaji Scott, who is the third member of our research team, our Keeper of Notes and Records. He is also the brilliant hero who just two days ago saved the lives of many thousands of people at the train station at Bareilly Junction.” I wish he had omitted that extremely large exaggeration. The entire room turned and began applauding and bowing and sticking hands out for me to shake. As my back was being patted for the seventh or seventeenth time, Master called out in a more commanding tone, “Juice, sandwiches, and fresh fruit in the courtyard. My colleague and I need some privacy, please.” The room emptied and he turned to me.
“You have come in the nick of time, Bhim. I was trying to explain how the cave was discovered, and some history of the Samhitas, and what it means to the societies, and how old we think might be, and wh
o was part of our team.” He made a gesture of frustration. “but too many questions were asked all at once, and I couldn’t remember.” He sighed and lowered himself into his chair. Through the windows I saw Mirabai passing sandwiches, and Sukshmi moving with a tray of glass cups. “The water buffalo have finally arrived to trample our cave, but they stopped here to trample my parlor first.” He patted a chair for me next to him. “How am I supposed to explain it correctly?”
“Who are they,” I asked.
“Most are medical people, some are Ayurvedic specialists Satnam invited. Those are the ones standing nicely in the back. He wants them to begin ‘authenticated clinical trials,’ as he calls them, as soon as possible. The others are Sanskrit scholars from different parts of the country. The rest are journalists with no manners. I’m in room full of people, completely alone. But, by Vishnu’s graces, you have come to save me in the nick of time.”
I couldn’t contain a small grin. “You’re sure I wasn’t a little late by your Timex?”
He smiled, a true smile, not like the one he had been wearing for the guests sipping juice in his courtyard. “Well, perhaps a few minutes tardy, a day or two, but you are forgiven because you do not have such an accurate watch, my boy.” He patted my knee with a condor smile. “So, tell me this heroic story the entire city is talking about. And the your Uliana Hadersen, where is she?”
Over the next ten minutes I explained it all, and when I came to the reason Uli was not with me, he snapped, “Utter nonsense. Look on every corner in our city and you find paintings of our gods. Some are better than others, and some are more colorful, but what difference does it matter to the gods. None, I would say!”
I was about to agree, when I saw Sukshmi open the front gate to let someone in. For the briefest moment I pictured Soma walking through with a faded sari and a shy smile. But four of the students that had been walking with Adam entered instead. A young woman with intelligent eyes and folded palms whispered to Sukshmi and then looked our way. Reinforcements had arrived.
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