Was only yesterday

And naturally I marvelled why

I asked why

An answer came

Surrender yourself

Lie still like a dead body

Breathe and breathe again

She will come home back to me

Roll forward like a wheel

The spirit regenerates.

And we will be together

Yes, we will be!

The answer came to me

Sing we will be

Sing we will be.

No more duality.

I saw her today.

Yes, we will be!

Yes, we will be!

Roll forward like a wheel

No more duality

The spirit regenerates.

As their song built to a crescendo the kirtan wallahs began to dance and call out the various names of the goddess Kali: Bhowani Devi, Durga. Govinda started to repeat after them. Sati, Rudrani, Parvati, Chinnamastika, Kamakshi, Uma, Makakshi, Himavati and Kumari. They repeated the names over and over again. The crowd joined in the chanting. The pundit, who led the singers, gave them no break to rest. Only the music and chanting could be heard. A group of uninhibited men adorned with garlands, carrying bows and arrows, broke into a wild dance.

Govinda’s heart pounded with intoxication to the rhythm of the drums. It was not possible for him to think. He clapped his hands and thrust his heels into the ground.

Then Govinda saw his father desperately looking for him in the heat of the day. He apparently had experienced enough. He looked tired but Govinda did not want to leave, so he decided to ignore him and kept singing.

Sunil Seth spotted Govinda and pulled him away from the musicians.

‘You worried me. Don’t ever leave me like that.’

‘I don’t want to go.’ Govinda turned back and ran. He headed for the musicians but his father dragged him away again. His father’s hair was dishevelled, his shirt collar stood out, his eyes seemed anxious and he was not in a mood to negotiate.

‘We’ll wait then.’ Together they stood and watched the musicians. Govinda held his father’s hand. It pleased him that his father had waited. His father was too impatient most of the time and he always wanted things done his way. He was never interested in doing things Govinda was interested in.

When Govinda was ready to leave, they passed old men and women crouched beside the road telling the future for a small fee. Govinda accompanied his father to one of the fortune tellers, a cheerful old woman who smoked cigarettes and sold sweets. He wondered if the fortune teller was genuinely a mysterious, powerful figure who knew the future. The fortune teller asked for a date of birth, made a calculation using a rosary and muttered mysterious words that made Sunil Seth frown.

‘What?’ Govinda asked.

‘Silly superstition,’ his father said affronted.