Cover Page

Also by Shankari Chandran

The Barrier

Chai Time at Cinnamon Gardens

For Ammamma and Apps, the original Nala and Rajan

‘Why at the beginning of things is there always light?’

The Narrow Road to the Deep North

BY RICHARD FLANAGAN

THE GITA

The Bhagavad Gita, or sacred ‘Song of God’, contains a discussion between Lord Krishna and the warrior prince Arjuna, on human nature and the purpose of life. It forms an important chapter in one of Hinduism’s main religious texts, the Mahabharata—a Sanskrit epic about a great war between two sides of the same family.

ATTRITION

CHAPTER 1

Colombo, 1932

‘If you’re going to do something, son, you should do it properly,’ he said to Rajan. The boy had never seen a monk like that before—completely naked, his light brown skin unimpaired by clothing. At his feet lay the orange robe of his order. He had taken it off and, making sure all the edges were aligned into a perfect square, had placed it neatly on the pavement. His movements were slow and deliberate.

Rajan had seen human anatomy in all its simple and complex artistry—but only in books. He had seen monks in Jaffna, but this one was different. This one was young and surprisingly muscular. The sunlight wrapped itself around him like his orange robe. He looked beautiful. The boy watched fascinated, as the monk wiped his shorn head with the palm of his hand. It came away damp. It was a dry day: not too hot, not too humid.

Rajan’s mother thought it was a perfect day. She took him to the stalls outside the hospital and gave him two cents for a treat. He wanted to buy a glass of faloodah with it, to share with his sister, Lali. She had been unwell for several weeks and Rajan knew it would help her.

There was nothing like faloodah: flavoured, coloured gelatine suspended in milk on a bed of rose syrup, topped with swollen basil seeds. It was the perfect combination of colour, flavour and texture. Years later, when Rajan became a doctor, he would reassess the nutritional impact of the drink with educated eyes. Protein, calcium, sugar and starch were bound together in a cocktail of artificial colour and sweetness. Milky pink remained his favourite colour in adulthood long after he stopped drinking faloodah. He would start drinking it again, much later in old age, when he dared death to take him.

Lali loved faloodah and little Rajan loved her. He was only eleven, and had never been given pocket money before. The two coins felt heavy in his hands. He placed them in his shallow pocket and then took them out again. He was afraid they would fall out. Lali laughed at him weakly from her hospital bed.

‘You always expect the worst,’ she whispered, her lips cracking as she spoke. He loved her so much because she only expected the best.