The PuppetMaster (51 page)

“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 who 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.

“Master, I forgot. Adam has some people to help you with…all of this.” I waved my arm toward the courtyard.

He frowned, and I thought he was going to object, but the smile returned. “That is good, Bhim. Quite so. Time for us to give up the reins, as they say.”

“I’m glad you agree. I wasn’t looking forward to trying to convince you otherwise.”

He patted my knee again. “And you? Will you leave us soon?”

I looked out the windows, beyond the faces, beyond the ficus and hedges and walls of the yard. Varanasi was flowing by. To the east somewhere, the Mother Ganga was making its way through the plains to the Bay of Bengal. “Yes, fairly soon I would imagine. There are people to visit with and say good-bye to, and small affairs to take care of, but as soon as they are done, I will go.”

“To Denmark? And then home?”

I nodded. “Quite so, Master. Quite so.” I handed him a small package wrapped in bright paper and curled ribbon. I had a short speech prepared. “A small gift for you. I had a teacher I when I was young…”

“You are still young, my boy, and will have many more teachers in your life.”

“That’s another lesson I have learned, but this teacher taught me mathematics when I was twelve. She taught me about time. The way she explained it, calendars are different all around the world, and seconds and minutes and hours are used only because someone made a decision some time in the past. Babylonians thought sixty was sacred, Christians saw the birth of Christ as a line in history, the Chinese created a different day to start the new year, and so on. It all depends on how you decide to measure it. She called them points of reference. Her lesson sort of stuck with me.”

Master removed the gift, which, of course was a watch--Swiss, shiny with gold expandable bands, and no leather straps, and it was set precisely to Varanasi time according to the International Atomic Time clock. He looked, just for a moment, wistfully at his scarred Timex and then unfastened the synthetic blue straps and tossed it on the tea table. The new one fairly blazed on his wrist. “It is the finest gift, except my impertinent daughter and all the people I have loved my in life, that I have ever received.” He clapped his hands. “And I will wear it every moment of the day to remind me that you are far too late in returning to my parlor for chai and iddly and afternoon lessons.”

“In that case, I will be back before you know it.”

“Exactly, my boy. Quite so.” He looked from the watch to me. “And what of the Bhavabuti play? It seems I have all the help I need. What about you? You will finish the last scene on your own? You’re more than capable, you know, always have been. You could have translated the entire thing by yourself. Never really needed me, you see. I just asked you to come to the parlor because I liked your company.”

I grinned. “Master, I needed you for so much more than grammar lessons.” I looked around the parlor, the tea table, the woven mat. “I will miss all of it, especially you, more than I thought possible. And I intend to complete the last scene before I reach Denmark.”

“I thought as much, my boy. It is time for you to attend to other matters.” His expression turned serious. “And what about the money?”

I didn’t know what he meant and probably looked perplexed.

“The money. Satnam tells me there will be money coming to us. You, C.G. and I are the authors of three publications that the Sanskrit world is snapping at like hungry fish. A few crore people want to read it.”

Having not thought about that at all, I was dumbfounded. It didn’t take long for me to decide what to do, though. I wrote it down and handed the paper to him. When he read it, a broad smile appeared and he patted my knee once more. “Brilliant decision, my boy. Brilliant.”

Mirabai interrupted us with cucumber and paneer sandwiches, mango and pineapple juice, and three kisses for my forehead. Then she introduced each of the students from BHU. They touched Master’s feet and mine—that was a first. The young woman with the intelligent eyes sat next to us on the woven mat where I had sat for so long. Amapani was her name. Her shyness and plastic bangles reminded me of Soma. I agreed to come mornings for as long as it would take to teach her my methods of notation. It wouldn’t take long. As the scholars and the media re-entered, I heard her asking Master the source of an obscure complexity in Sanskrit conjugations. It was asked politely, from curiosity, and not from a desire to flaunt her knowledge. As the room began to refill with people, I knew I could leave.

There were still surprises and discoveries for me in Varanasi. I discovered, for instance, that entering a city with a wounded heart is far easier than leaving it with cherished friendships. There would be many that I would miss. I was surprised by how much I suddenly wanted to talk to my mother and father, even my brother. With a stack of long distance phone cards I talked with them for an hour. It wasn’t nearly long enough. Other surprises followed.

For ten days I settled affairs and made my rounds throughout the city. I did it with ease, chatting casually with merchants and friends and children, eating in familiar cafes, and saying good-bye to people I suddenly wished I had spent more time with. Sitting and talking without an agenda felt good. I spent an afternoon listening to Petey and Shawn describe how they had come from Blackpool to Varanasi, and I realized that they would probably be released from the great wheel right there in Varanasi. Good for them. I went to Haroon’s and marveled at the renovation after the riots--the expansion was continuing. I sipped a mango smoothie contentedly, but the time had a sad edge to it for both of us. It was lightened only by the promises that we would explore the resorts of Cancun and Turks and Cacos at some future date. Knowing Haroon, I was certain that I would receive a letter confirming an arrival in my hometown within the year. I spent the first few days going to Master’s to assist him, but Adam had selected well. Each day Amapani accepted more responsibility, and by the end of the week, I stopped coming.