He sits back down. “I had to study it during yoga teachers’ training. But I found myself going back to certain parts when I was grieving and searching for answers. I’ve marked off some of the passages that spoke to me.”

Kavita sets her eyes on the first passage and starts reading aloud. “‘Our bodies are known to end, but the embodied self is enduring, indestructible, and immeasurable. Therefore Arjuna, fight the battle.’”

She flips to the next passage.

“‘As man discards worn-out clothes to put on new and different ones, so the embodied self discards its worn-out bodies to take on new ones. Weapons do not cut it. Fire does not burn it. Waters do not wet it. Wind does not wither it. It cannot be cut or burned. It cannot be wet or withered. It is enduring, all-pervasive, fixed, immovable, and timeless. It is called unmanifest, inconceivable, and immutable. Since you know that to be so, you should not grieve. If you think of its birth and death as ever-recurring, then too, Great Warrior, you have no cause to grieve. Death is certain for anyone born, and birth is certain for the dead. Since the cycle is inevitable, you have no cause to grieve. Creatures are unmanifest in origin, manifest in the midst of life, and unmanifest again in the end. Since this is so, why do you lament?’”

Falling silent, she lets the words seep in, still unsure of how she feels about them.

“Like I said, it’s is a matter of perspective,” he says. “Of course, that doesn’t make fighting the battle any easier. To physicists, those verses are law. Isn’t that wild? Like it’s written into the universe.”

“I think I’ll read the rest later.”

“We can talk about it next time, if you want. Oh, and don’t forget about the inscription.”

On the front page, she finds a neatly printed paragraph in green ink. “Did you write this?”

He nods, a touch embarrassed.

“A little guru Hawthorn wisdom, is it?”

“No teasing,” he says, “or I’ll banish you from the cult.”

She indulges her grin for another second, then tries to act more serious. “Thank you for lending me the book. But are you sure you don’t need it?”

“I’m sure,” he says. “Besides, I’ll sleep easier knowing you have it close by.”

34.

Throughout the winter, Kavita’s days began reshaping themselves as her friend foretold. Once a month, she went to group and met Hawthorn there. Although she asked Nirav to come to the meetings too, he would tell her, “I don’t need therapy, but you go, it’ll be good for you,” and stayed home instead.