The swami returned. ‘Yeh, daan suchi dekh rahe hain? (Do you see this donation register?)’

‘Yes, it has Saraswati in the middle and Lakshmi at the bottom and—’ Young responded.

‘Yes. Lakshmi at the bottom,’ the translator said.

‘Yes, and—’

‘But there is no Lakshmi at the bottom.’

‘Oh, oh! Young sir, donation for the temple,’ the officer intervened.

Young extracted two one-rupee notes from his wallet and placed them on the table. ‘Where is the Saraswati for this Lakshmi?’ he asked. The officer looked at Young in surprise.

13

‘I have to let Nelson Natwarlal go,’ Thompson said.

‘Why? What did he do?’ the pastor asked.

‘Do you know him?’

‘Long story.’

‘Surprised?’

‘No. His grandparents asked me to keep him out of trouble. There’s only so much that I can do.’

‘He has a knack for impudence. Given his caste he should know better.’

‘He has not lived it—’

‘He disappears periodically, without warning.’

‘You have to do what you have to do.’

‘I was expecting more from you?’

‘Want to join me for a cup of tea?’ the pastor asked.

‘. . . the other day my accountant wanted to go home because his grandfather’s soul was lingering around. Some pesky crow had not touched the rice cake. What a country I tell you! Fat crows and starving people.’

‘You should be a little more sympathetic, Archie. A million gods, a million rituals,’ the pastor responded.

‘That they suffer in their religion is no reason for sympathy. Toss it out of the window, I say!’

‘Along with everything else then—property, politics, morality?’

‘All the more reason to have faith in our Lord and Saviour. The Hindus have no discipline; it’s all fate.’

‘Too much discipline and we are at war. Leave it be.’

14