Travelers (18 page)

“Quite,” Raymond said.

He did not feel he could do anything for Solomon or the others. He was often being asked to help people to get jobs. There seemed to be so many people, but not all that many jobs. That same morning Shyam had come to him accompanied by a person whom he introduced as his cousin-brother. An affidavit was needed from Raymond to state that this cousin-brother had worked as his driver for the past two years. Raymond protested. “But I haven't been here two years. And I don't have a car.”

Shyam said soothingly, “Only they want like that. For nothing. Just your name, Sahib.” He had pressed a form on Raymond and a pen obligingly opened. But when Raymond had refused to sign, he had not been offended. He had said something to his relative in a reassuring undertone, and they had both gone away cheerfully. Raymond knew it was not the end of the matter but that Shyam would continue to work on him day after day. He would say, truthfully, “If you don't help, who else is there for us?”

Besides finding jobs for her servants, Miss Charlotte had many other problems. One of these was all the old English people whom the mission had been caring for. Now she was trying to make arrangements to put all of them together in a home in Madras where they could be looked after by the church. But it was a very difficult task to persuade these old people to move out of their present homes. In a week or two, as soon as she had got the sale of the house on the way to a settlement, she was going to start off and travel around to the various places where they were scattered. Most of them were in the hills—in Simla, Mussourie, Ooty, Mount Abu. It would
certainly be a nice trip for her—quite a little holiday—but in the meantime who was going to visit her friends in the home near the mission who were so used to her twice-weekly appearances? She really didn't know whom she could ask to go in her place. There was a fractional pause, and then Raymond said, “I may be going away myself in a day or two.”

“How lovely for you. Another tour?”

“Well, no, actually, I'll be going with a friend. He's visiting his uncle in Benares.”

“Benares is such a fascinating place.”

“Yes,” Raymond said. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Raymond Arrives in the Ashram

Raymond had difficulties in finding the ashram. He had hired a taxi at the airport and they drove around for a long time before discovering that the ashram was not actually in the holy city but several miles outside it. By this time it was the driver's mealtime and he said he could not go any farther, so Raymond had to get out with his suitcase. They were now in the middle of the holy city in one of a network of closely packed streets where tumble-down houses were perched above ramshackle booths. Raymond stood in the sun waiting for a taxi but the only transport available were cycle rickshaws. He had always looked with embarrassment on the passengers sitting at the back of these frail vehicles while the emaciated driver pulled and panted. However, when no taxi came and the sun got hotter and drew all sorts of fetid smells out of rotting vegetables and other refuse, he could hold out no longer. The rickshaw took him to a bus depot and, after a journey in a bus, he was deposited in the middle of what seemed to be an endless stretch of barren plains. Carrying his suitcase, he began to walk. The day ended, the sun began to set, the heat abated. Raymond did not notice. Sometimes he sat down to rest. He never thought he would find the ashram—he never thought he would find anything,
or arrive anywhere—but suddenly, right there in that desert, there was a huge board which said in huge lettering:
Universal Society For Spiritual Regeneration In The Modern World.

Swamiji took it for granted that Raymond had come to stay in the ashram. He was glad. He assigned a place to him in one of the hutments, and Raymond lay down on a string cot and was at once asleep. When he woke up, it was morning and Lee was standing over him saying, “He wants to see you as soon as you're up.”

Raymond looked at her closely. At first sight she looked the same—unlike the other disciples, she did not wear a sari or an orange robe—but there was something in her face, her expression, that was different.

“I wrote you such a lot of letters,” she said. “You never answered. And he kept asking for you.”

“Has Gopi been here?” When she was silent, he continued. “Have you heard from him? Do you know where he is?”

“Why, where should he be?”

“He's here in Benares. Staying with his uncle.”

“So that's why you've come,” Lee said.

For a while they were silent. Then Lee said, “I thought you'd come because of what I wrote.”

To this Raymond said nothing.

“He
thinks that's why you've come.” She sounded both reproachful and unhappy. Raymond was sorry she should feel like that, but did not think himself to blame. He had not pretended that he had come on any business other than his own.

He asked, “You haven't seen him at all?”

“Who?”

“Gopi.”

His face was strained, and Lee said, “My God, Raymond, are you still on that?”

“He just went away. He'd been talking about it and I said all right I'll come with you but he didn't seem to care for that and
one day he simply went off. Without a word to me,” Raymond said, swallowing as if he were swallowing something hurtful and bitter, aggrieved like a woman.

“I hate to see you this way,” Lee said.

“He sneaked away from me. Why did he have to do that? Does he hate me so much? I've tried hard to be nice to him—to make him like me and like being with me, and I thought he did, he
said
he did. But it seems I don't mean a thing to him. Not a thing. After all this time.”

“Asha's here too.”

After a pause Raymond said, “I didn't know that.”

“She wrote to me,” Lee said, stubbing her toe against the rough floor, embarrassed, not knowing whether she should have told him or not.

“No, I'm glad you told me,” he said, guessing this. “He could have told me himself instead of all those lies. When did I ever try and stop him from seeing her? Did I ever say a word? On the contrary, I encouraged him—I even went along with him—the
hours
I've spent with those two. I never asked them to consider my feelings, and I'll say this for them, they didn't. But that's all right, I'm not complaining, I asked for it myself. . . . I shouldn't be saying all this to you.”

“You shouldn't be saying it at all! You shouldn't
be
like this! No one should.”

Both couldn't speak for a while. Raymond felt shaken but also relieved to have been able to talk to someone. Lee was upset too—to see him in this state which she knew to be deeply wrong.

“I'm glad you came,” she said at last with feeling. “Even if it was for the wrong reason. After you stay here for a while, listening to him, or just being near him, it'll all change for you. You'll see. It'll just drop off and be nothing. All you're feeling now and everything that seems so important to you: you'll laugh at yourself. But I know it's no use my telling you—you'll have to learn for yourself, through him. . . . Are you all right in here?”
she asked, looking round the hut. “Which is your bed? This one? One string is broken. We'll get it fixed.”

“I'm not staying here, you know, Lee.”

She looked at him.

“I'm leaving this morning. Isn't there a hotel in town?”

“Yes, for American tourists,” she said with scorn.

“That will suit me then.”

“But I thought—and
he
thought—”

“I never said so.”

She sat very straight on a bed, staring in front of her.

“You know I can't stay here,” he said. “It isn't the sort of place I would ever stay at. You know that. I came to see you.”

He noticed that she looked stricken and even afraid. She had always seemed invulnerable to him, but now he saw she was so no longer.

“What will he say?” she asked. She lowered her eyes. “He'll be angry.” She really
was
afraid, he could see.

Swamiji Eats Lunch

But in fact Swamiji didn't mind at all. He even encouraged Raymond to go and stay in the hotel. He said that Raymond would be more comfortable there. He thanked him very sweetly for staying in the ashram for that one night and apologized for its shortcomings. Later he several times visited Raymond in the hotel. He seemed to like going there. The hotel was, as Lee had said, intended mainly for foreign tourists and had been made as comfortable as possible. It was fully air-conditioned and licensed to serve liquor, and there was a bar and a dining room with a buffet table at which cold cuts of meat were served. Swamiji always accepted the drink that Raymond offered, and usually had more than one; once or twice he stayed for a meal in the dining room and ate his way heartily through the full course, including the meat dishes. Sometimes he came alone, sometimes accompanied by Evie. Evie didn't have any
drink, or any meat dish either. She sat with her hands folded in the lap of her white cotton sari, waiting for Swamiji to say it was time to go. Then she got up at once and they went home together on the bus.

Swamiji unfolded his plans to Raymond. He was trying to organize a lecture tour in the United States and, wherever he spoke, he would gather new disciples and found a new center for his movement so that a network would be established from one end of America to the other. On the way back he would also lecture in Europe and found other centers there. With the funds collected from these foreign tours, he would build a big comfortable air-conditioned ashram here in the holy city, on the very site where his present ashram stood. This ashram in India would remain the main focus of the movement, and Swamiji himself would spend some time every year in residence there. But mostly of course he would be traveling—going from one center to the other, lecturing, gathering new disciples, establishing new centers in new countries until he had covered the entire globe and his movement had become a worldwide religion uniting men of all creeds and all colors into one family and so bringing peace and harmony into the world.

It was, he explained to Raymond, essentially a movement of Today, of Now. In the old days men of high spiritual development had had only limited resources at their disposal with which to radiate outward; hence their influence had also been limited in scope. But nowadays, thanks to the developments of the modern world, everything could work jet-swift, enabling Swamiji's beams to penetrate into the farthest corner of the remotest country on the map. That was progress indeed! Nor would Swamiji stand in its way but on the contrary he intended fully to avail himself of all its manifold devices. He would travel everywhere by airplane and helicopter, and also multiply his presence by means of television appearances. The printed word would not be neglected, and besides syndicated articles about himself and his work in all leading newspapers of the world, there would be feature articles with illustrations in photo magazines.
The more subtle points of his doctrine would be expounded in published book form—and here Raymond's advice would be particularly valuable to him, for he had heard from Lee, and heard with interest, that Raymond was in the publishing business. He nodded to Evie, who was nursing a cloth parcel in her lap. Evie unfolded the cloth, which was snow-white and tenderly embroidered by hand, to reveal a bulky manuscript within. This, said Swamiji, handing it to Raymond, was something of a first fruit of his literary labors—his and Evie's—a collection of his discourses and significant sayings up to the present time. Of course the work would grow and swell into many volumes, for there would be many more discourses and Evie had the habit of taking down his sayings every day. Meanwhile, however, he would be glad to make a first offer of the present manuscript to Raymond's firm.

Raymond liked him. He found him to be cheerful and amusing company, a relaxed person though giving an impression of tremendous energy. Raymond liked it best when he came without Evie—he found it difficult to ignore her silent presence and felt compelled to keep offering her things: “You're sure you wouldn't care for a drink? Just a tomato juice? a Coke? a glass of water?” In reply, she put up one frail hand as if to say please don't bother about me, I'm not here, or if I am, I am as nothing. But—unlike Swamiji, who did so without effort—Raymond could not regard her as nothing, and consequently it was a relief to him when she was left behind. He did wish, though, that in her place Swamiji would sometimes bring Lee and once he even asked him to do so. But Swamiji said no. He said Lee wasn't ready yet to come out of the ashram and mix freely in the world.

“But if Evie can come—” Raymond ventured.

Swamiji vigorously waved his hand to and fro in a negative movement. He couldn't speak, as his mouth was full of fish. They were in the hotel dining room, where Swamiji was Raymond's guest for lunch.

“Evie is quite a different case,” Swamiji said when he could. “It doesn't matter where she goes, what she does, nothing can shake her.” He gestured to a bearer to bring the tray round again, and the man came hurrying over. Raymond had noticed that everyone was very eager to serve Swamiji. His air of authority pervaded the dining room. He was also an object of curiosity to the other diners who were mostly elderly Americans. It was not every day that they could see a holy man in an orange robe sitting right there having lunch among them. Swamiji remained quite undisturbed by the attention he was getting and went on enjoying his food.

“Evie is firm,” he said. “I have made her firm. But Lee—” he laughed. “There is still a lot of work to be done with Lee.”

“What sort of work?”

“Ah, Raymond, that is a very long story.” He pointed his finger into his empty beer glass and the steward himself came quickly to refill it. “Thank you, my son,” said Swamiji, and drank heartily. “You see, Lee is now in my hands. She is my responsibility to mold and to make. But before I can mold and make, I have to break. The old Lee must be broken before the new Lee can be formed, and we are now only at the first stage of our task.”