The Mountain Shadow (132 page)

‘We got him here in a taxi,’ I said, sitting down. ‘We’ve been waiting, to see if he’s okay, after surgery. You can join us, if you like. Karla’s bringing tea.’

‘We’ve got things to do,’ Faaz-Shah said.

‘We’ve also been waiting for someone from the Company to sit with Salar. He’s not safe here. Leave a man with him, Faaz-Shah.’

‘I need every man I’ve got. And you’re here. You’re still loyal to the Company, aren’t you?’

‘Which Company is it now?’

He laughed, and then stopped hard on a different thought.

‘I really do need all my men tonight. He’s family, you know.’

‘Salar?’

‘Yes. He’s an uncle of mine. His family’s on the way. I’d appreciate it, if you’d stay until they get here.’

‘Done. And keep this for him,’ I said, pulling the chain from my pocket. ‘He wants it to go to his sister, if he doesn’t make it.’

‘I’ll give it to her.’

He accepted the chain gingerly, as if he expected it to move in his hand, and then scrunched it into a pocket. He looked at me, his eyes floating on reluctant shores.

‘I owe you on this, Lin,’ he said.

‘You don’t.’

‘I do,’ he said, clenching his teeth.

‘Okay then, transfer the debt to Miss Karla. If you ever hear anything that might harm her, warn her about it, or me, and we’ll be square. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘
Khuda hafiz
.’

‘
Allah hafiz
,’ I replied, watching them stamp out, shields of revenge in their eyes.

I was glad to be out. I was glad to be
carrying
the wounded, instead of wounding them, I guess, just as Concannon was glad to be burying them, instead of killing them. In that grey-green silence, the smell of disinfectant, bleached linen and bitter medicine was suddenly too medical, and my heart was beating fast.

For a few seconds, emotions running on habit had stamped out into the night with Faaz-Shah and the others, riding to war before we knew it was declared. All that fight and fear rushed back into me, as if I’d already fought a battle. And then I realised that I didn’t have to fight it. Not this time. Not ever again.

Chapter Ninety

I
LOOKED UP FROM BRUTAL THOUGHTS AND SAW
K
ARLA,
walking toward me slowly down the long hospital corridor. She had a man with her. He was a cleaner, dressed in the working clothes of a
peon
, or someone who does menial work. Karla’s face was brilliant with light, her smile a secret, waiting to be told.

She sat the man next to me.

‘You absolutely have to meet this man, and hear his story,’ Karla said. ‘Dev, meet Shantaram. Shantaram, meet Dev.’

‘
Namaste
,’ I said. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘Please tell him, Dev,’ Karla said, smiling at me.

‘But it is not a very entertaining story, and it is sad. Perhaps another time.’

He started to rise from the seat, but we eased him down gently again.

‘Please, Dev,’ Karla urged. ‘Just tell him, as you told it to me.’

‘But I could lose my job,’ he said uncertainly, ‘if I don’t return to my duties.’

‘Good,’ Karla said. ‘Because, when we leave here, you’re coming with us.’

He looked at me. I smiled back.

‘Whatever she says,’ I said.

‘I can’t do that,’ he said. ‘I have a shift to finish.’

‘First the story, please, Dev,’ Karla said. ‘Then we’ll finish at the start.’

‘Well, as I was telling you while we were waiting for the chai,’ he began, looking at his hands. ‘My name is Dev, and I am a sadhu.’

His head was shaved, and he wore no amulets or bracelets. Beyond his uniform, he was stripped clean. He was a very simple, lean man, with a cap on his head and bare feet.

His face was stronger than the man, though, and his eyes, when he raised them, still burned fires on beaches.

Shiva sadhus cover themselves with ashes from the crematoria, talk to ghosts, and summon demons, even if only in their own minds. The body language was submissive, but the face was indomitable.

‘I had long dreadlocks once,’ he mused. ‘They’re antennae, you know, for people who smoke. I never went without a smoke, with my dreads. Now, with shaved head, no stranger will share a glass of water with me.’

‘Why did you shave them off, Dev?’ I asked.

‘I shamed myself,’ he said. ‘I was at the peak of my powers. Lord Shiva walked step by step with me. Snakes could not bite me. I slept with them, in the forest. Leopards visited me, waking me with kisses. Scorpions lived in my hair, but never stung me. No man could look into the eyes of my penance without flinching.’

He stopped, and looked at me, his eyes still roaming with the wild, and the dead.

‘It’s greed, you know,’ he said. ‘Greed is the key. Follow the greed to the sin. I was greedy for more power. I cursed a man, a foreigner, who challenged me on the street. I cursed him, told him that his riches would bring him ruin, and when I did that, every one of my powers drained from me like rain on a window.’

The hairs on my arms were standing up, and I looked at Karla, sitting on the other side of the holy-man-cleaner. She nodded.

‘Were there two foreigners that day?’ I asked.

‘Yes. One of them was very kind. An Englishman. The other was very rude, but I regret what I did. I regret any harm I may have caused him. I regret my betrayal of my own penance. I tried to find the man, but I couldn’t, although I searched everywhere, and I couldn’t lift my own curse.’

‘Dev,’ Karla said. ‘We know this man. We know the man you cursed. We can take you there, to meet him.’

The shaven sadhu crumpled, taking short breaths, and then slowly sat upright again.

‘Is it true?’

‘Yes, Dev,’ Karla said.

‘Are you okay, Dev?’ I asked, a hand on his thin shoulder.

‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘Maa! Maa!’

‘Do you want to lie down for a while?’ I asked.

‘No, I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m . . . I . . . lost my way, and I started drinking alcohol. I wasn’t used to it. I’d never had it in my life. I did bad things. Then a great saint stopped me, in the street, and took me to his Kali temple.’

He looked up quickly, as if breaking the surface for air.

‘Do you really know this man I cursed?’ he asked, his voice trembling.

‘We do,’ I said.

‘And will he see me? Will he allow me to lift the curse?’

‘I think he will,’ Karla said, smiling.

‘They say Maa Kali is terrifying,’ he said to me, his hand on my arm. ‘But only to hypocrites. If your heart is innocent, She cannot help but love you. She’s the Mother of the universe, and we are Her children. How could She not love us, if we make a place of innocence for Her inside ourselves?’

He was silent, breathing hard for a moment before he calmed himself, a hand on his heart.

‘Are you sure you’re quite well, Dev?’ Karla asked.

‘I am,’ he said. ‘Thanks to Maa, I’m well. It’s just a bit of a shock.’

‘How did you come to be here, Dev?’ I asked.

‘I shaved my head, and I came to this place, doing the most humble job I could find, serving the helpless and afraid. And now my question has been answered, because you found me here, to bring me to this man. Please, take this.’

He handed me a laminated card that was blank on one side, and had a design on the other. I slipped it into my vest pocket.

‘What is it, Dev?’ Karla asked.

‘It’s a yantra,’ he replied. ‘If you look at it with a truthful heart, it will clear the negative from your mind, so that you can make wise, caring choices.’

‘We’re waiting for news of our friend,’ I said. ‘Can we get anything for you, Dev?’

‘I’m very fine,’ he said, sitting back against the bench. ‘Am I really resigning from my job?’

‘It would seem so, Dev,’ Karla said.

Salar’s relatives arrived, escorted by two Company men, and the news came through that Salar was going to live.

We took Dev, the penitent holy man, to the penthouse floor of the Mahesh hotel. We watched Scorpio fall to his knees, and the sadhu fall with him, and we turned and went back to the elevator.

‘You know,’ she said, as we waited. ‘This might be just the thing to give Gemini’s immune system a jolt.’

‘It just might,’ I said, as the elevator pinged.

‘I know where we’re going,’ Karla said, passing the flask back to me on the way down.

‘You think you’re so smart,’ I said, pulling the lawyer’s black jacket around my blood-stained shirt.

‘We’re going to get your bike,’ she said. ‘She’s still on Mohammed Ali Road, and you care more about
her
than you do about getting cleaned up.’

She was so smart, and reminded me from time to time on the ride back to the Amritsar hotel. My happily rescued bike hummed machine mantras all the way home.

When we tumbled into her rooms, Karla freshened up, and left the bathroom for me.

I emptied my pockets onto the wide porcelain bench beneath the mirror. The money in my pockets was stained with blood. My keys were red, and the coins I spilled on the bench were discoloured, as if having been in a wishing fountain too long.

I put the knives and scabbards on the bench, dropped the lawyer’s suit jacket on the floor, and let the bloody shirt slide off my just as bloody T-shirt.

As I tossed it away, I noticed the card that Dev had given me. I picked it up, and placed it on the bench. I looked into the mirror for the first time, meeting myself like a stranger in a meadow.

I looked away from my own stare, and tried to forget what I couldn’t stop thinking.

The T-shirt was a gift from Karla. One of her artist protégées had made it, copying the knife-work of an artist known for biting the canvas that feeds him.

There were slashes, rips and tears all over the front. Karla liked it, I think, because she liked the artist who made it. I liked it, because it was incomplete, and unique.

I pulled it off carefully, hoping to soak the blood from it, but when I looked into the mirror, I let it fall into the sink.

The T-shirt had left a mark in blood on my chest. It was a triangle, upside down, with star-shapes around it. I looked at the card that Dev had given me. It was almost the same design.

India.

I let the card fall from my fingers, and stared into what I’d let myself become. I looked at the design on my chest. I asked the question we all ask sooner or later, if we stay in India long enough.

What do you want from me, India? What do you want from me, India? What do you want from me?

My heart was breaking on a wheel of coincidence, each foolish accident more significant than the next.
If you look at it with a truthful heart
, the sadhu said when he gave me the card.
Wise, caring choices
.

I escaped from a prison, where I had no choice, and cut my life down to a single choice, everywhere, with everyone but Karla: stay, or go.

What do you want from me, India?

What did the blood-design mean? If it was a message, written in another man’s blood, was it a warning? Or was it one of those affirmations that Idriss talked about? Was I going mad, asking the question, and searching for a significance that couldn’t exist?

I stumbled into the shower, watching red water run into the drain. The water ran clean at last, and I turned it off, but leaned against the wall, my palms flat against the tiles, my head down.

Was it a message?
I heard myself asking without asking.
A message in blood on my chest?

My knives clattered off the bench onto the tiled floor, startling me. I stepped out of the shower to pick up the knives, and slipped on the wet floor. Clutching at the knives as I steadied myself, I cut the inside of my hand.

I put the knives down, and cut myself again. I hadn’t cut myself with those knives in a year of practice. Blood ran into the basin, spilling onto the card I’d dropped. I scooped the card out of the basin, and dried it off.

I ran my hand under the cold tap, and used a towel to press the cuts closed. I cleaned my knives and put them away safely. And I stared at the card, and into the mirror, for quite a while.

I found Karla on the balcony, a thin blue robe over her shoulders. I wanted to see her like that every day, for the rest of my life, but I had to go out. I had something to do.

‘We gotta go out again,’ I said. ‘I’ve got something I have to do.’

‘A mystery! Hey, speaking of, is that a bandage on your hand?’

‘It’s nothing,’ I said. ‘Are you up for another ride? The sun will be up soon.’