(Published by NEL 1990, St Martins Press New York)
This excerpt is part II of The Imperial Agent.
CHAPTER TWO
October 1910

KIM'S PAIN was emotional, not physical. He was barely aware of his surroundings, barely aware even of the woman he carried to safety. She lay still, hardly breathing, light as a child. He loved her and suspected she was dying from a spell cast on her, but even this couldn't lend urgency to his movements. He had loved one other in his life, a man whom he'd obeyed and respected as a father, a man who had guided his destiny as an Imperial agent since adolescence. He knew now that this man had deliberately manipulated and betrayed him. From the favoured position of a son he had been abruptly reduced to that of a pawn in the great game of ruling an empire. He was still shocked by this recent wound, not wanting to believe in this betrayal, yet knowing it to be the truth. The bleak landscape reflected his despair and he questioned his own worth, as would anyone who had suffered such a rejection.
      ‘I was loyal to the Colonel sahib, I was loyal to the empire and served both faithfully. But the time came for me to choose between them and India, and I chose India. The fault lies neither entirely with the Colonel sahib nor with me. We serve the same country but to different ends. I changed. I no longer owe my blind obedience to the Colonel nor my belief to the empire. A part of my life has ended. I have lost a father, lost a calling.’
      High above, wheeling in great circles that encompassed half the earth, Jatayu watched over Kim. Brahma had granted Jatayu immortality for his fatal bravery against the demon Ravana and permitted him to change his form from a vulture to that of a more noble bird. The eagle watched Kim look up every now and then as he led him slowly eastwards.
     An hour behind, two men, armed with rifles, jogged in pursuit. Kim looked back and, though he couldn't see them, knew they hunted him and the woman. Just rising above the horizon he saw the first wisp of smoke from the funeral pyre of his friend Narain. He hesitated, but knew he had to go on and leave the rites to Isaac Newton. Kim felt it was dishonourable to flee but the safety of the woman in his arms was more important. Silently he commended Narain's soul to God.
    "What am I to believe as to this very fundamental riddle of our existence, Narain? As an Englishman I am taught to believe that your soul will rise to heaven like smoke, or descend to hell. Despite your sins in this life, I cannot believe that your soul will descend. But the Indian within me cannot accept such a simple solution to this riddle. I believe men are meant to be chained to the endless wheel of rebirth, until through their own efforts they escape and attain moksha. If such a thing as the soul exists, and men have spent centuries trying to prove this, then surely you will be permitted to evolve into a greater being. I pray that in your rebirth you will be born higher than the Brahmin. I do not know who or what judges these matters so finely that he can direct a soul into the body of a cockroach or of a man, but I can only pray that you, Narain, will be reborn on a higher plane."
     He looked down at Parvati, whispered her name and shook her. Her vacant amber eyes stared up at the sky. They were circled with exhaustion and the skin had turned black as though touched with kohl. Her delicate beauty was slowly setting into a death mask. Her body was fragile, brittle; he could almost crumple it to dust. There were moments when she woke from her trance and recognised him but the demons that possessed her reclaimed her immediately. His love was not enough to defeat them and set her free.
    At midday he halted in the shade of a marble chaatri on the outskirts of a village. The chaatri was a small domed roof held up by six pillars and was the monument of some long forgotten prince or general; Rajputana was scattered with such memories. Parvati slept on peacefully. The heat shimmered, glazing the brown hills; the mustard fields were burning yellow and the air hummed with insects. Kim could have felt contentment if the woman who rested beside him were not in such danger. His heart ached as he looked down on her, and he felt helpless.
    He waited for the heat to abate, and continued their journey. The land became harsh, brittle and dusty; goats and bony cattle scrounged coarse grass, so brown it seemed they were eating earth. Rajput villagers, the men wearing dazzling turbans of saffron and vermilion and the women in blood-red skirts, scraped and poked at the ground for sustenance.
    At midnight, he halted. The land was empty; there was no village. He moved off the road to rest in a shallow ravine.
    They were woken at daylight by a great clattering and banging, and a woman swearing obscenely yet poetically. Her command of language was profound and Kim lay for a moment, filled with admiration for such an imagination. Whom she swore at or what the clatter was about, barely interested him. The noise woke Parvati too. She smiled up at him and he saw her beauty in spite of the gauntness.
    'Are you well?' he asked.
    'Yes, for a while. God only knows for how long. I have two sorts of dreams. Those of peace and beauty, and then ugly ones that frighten me. I can't tell which are real, which not. Dreams can be our reality, and the waking our sleeping.' She caressed his face and twirled the ends of his moustache which drooped from neglect. 'You feel real' she sat up and peeped over the ridge.
  On the road a gleaming yellow motor car stood with its bonnet open. Its headlamps were of silver, the seats of red leather. The two men standing nearby were reflected in the shining body. Sitting in the rear seat was a small woman, not much larger than a child, encrusted with jewellery and wearing a bright purple sari. Kim couldn't see her face but the voice was certainly a woman's, melodious and strong. She had still to take breath. The object of her scorn was the driver, who wore a white uniform, polished boots and a scarlet turban. He cringed and clenched his hands together, moaning for mercy. Beside him, less splendidly dressed, was the cleaner who could not hide his relief that he was not the target of the lady's anger.
  'I will personally cut off your manhood and feed it to my peacocks,' she screamed. 'Your hands will be given to the monkeys and I will use your head to play polo, as my ancestors did with those who displeased them. Your mother will regret having lain with a langur and given birth to a creature as ugly and useless as you.'
  Now Kim knew nothing about motor cars, but he was drawn from hiding to stare at it. He peered into a silver headlamp and saw his face twist and turn.
  'And what does such a jungley want?' The woman turned on Kim. She was young but ugly, and Kim flinched at the cruelty of fate. Her nose was bent, her mouth twisted; she could have been reflected in the same headlamp that changed the shape of his face. Her eyes, however, were filled with great vitality. They dimmed the obscenity of her flesh. Also she was delicate as a bird.
  'Have you never seen a motor car? Go away, go away.'
   'Great queen,' Kim said. 'I came not to stare at the car but to be drowned in the beauty of your eyes.'
   'You have a wise tongue. If you'd called me beautiful, I would have had you executed. But my eyes: yes, they're beautiful. Do you know anything about these machines?'
   'I will look, great queen.'
   He went to look at the engine. It was wondrous, but beyond all comprehension. The chauffeur stood sullenly beside him. Only Isaac Newton could have read these metallic entrails.
   'Well, now that you've looked, what do you see? Or are you a badmash taking advantage of a helpless woman.'
   'Maharani, no one would ever believe you to be helpless. Not with the power of such a voice and a wit to match.'
   Kim saw a dangling wire and, knowing the British invented all things for a purpose, traced its path. Gingerly, he picked it up and fitted it round a copper button. It seemed the right distance for such a wire.
   'What have you done?'
  'If I told you, then you could do it yourself.'
  'I'm not sure I like such boldness in a jungley. Who are you?'
  'A man.'
  'I like you less for such answers. Do you know who I am?'
  'A great queen.'
  'Yes. I am the Rani of Amar and you are in my state.'
  'Then you should be grateful for men. All I have seen here is sand and rocks and thorns.' He ignored her snort, and told the driver, 'Start the engine.'
  The chauffeur tried and immediately the car roared to life. He was a tubby man with a finely curled moustache. He gave Kim a venomous glance.
  'Here,' the Rani said, removing a large ruby ring.
  'I did not do it for riches. Give it to your driver who advised me so wisely.'
  'You are no ordinary man. This ring would feed a village for a year.'
  'And doubtless, a village starved a year to provide you with such a trinket.' The Rani slipped the ring angrily back on her finger. The driver stared ahead stonily. 'I wish one favour, Rani. I am in great haste. If you can take us but some distance,    I would be grateful'
  'Why not? You will make pleasant company.'
  'And the woman I travel with.'
  Kim fetched Parvati from hiding.
  'I will be honest with you, great queen. A spell has been cast on this woman, and her only chance to live is for her to reach the feet of the brothers Bala and Bala. They are east of here, but I do not know how far, and she is near death.'
  He looked up; the Rani did too. He saw Jatayu circling, moving east. But the Rani saw only a speck in the sky circling ceaselessly, with the patience of all such predators.
  Parvati namasted. She trembled from weakness but stood straight. Her spirit seemed to have returned. But if one looked closely into her eyes one saw the dread. She also looked away from the Rani's face, for it reminded her of the demons.
  'I see nothing wrong with her, and I don't need a woman of her beauty to remind me of my ugliness. But she is very skinny.'
  'She will veil herself from your eyes, but not from your generosity. Your eyes reflect your true beauty.'
  'You have too silvery a tongue. Get in, get in. I have heard of Bala and Bala but have never heard them sing. I am told they are blind.'
  'Yes. They have been blind since birth. I met them five years ago near Burhanpur and travelled with them some of the way. Their father was court musician to a rajah in southern India and was a bhakta of Lord Krishna. He prayed to Lord Krishna to give his son a wondrous voice and, when the twins were born, Lord Krishna granted the boon to them both. But, having given them such voices, he commanded that they should be heard by all of India, and since the time they could walk they have been travelling. Brahma, hearing of the boon bestowed on them by Lord Krishna, gave them sight but not sight such as you and I know, Rani. Their eyes remain shut and they see through their minds. If they both survive to their twenty-fifth year, they will lose their voices and regain their sight, and may return as ordinary mortals to their village. However, should one not survive the journey, then the other will die within a minute of his brother and their deaths will be followed by countless other deaths and great changes will happen that none can foresee. And whoever is responsible for their deaths will bring down the curse of Brahma upon their head, the heads of their family and upon the kingdom to which they belong. Though she does not remember, Parvati heard them sing in her husband's palace, and one of those songs was about us. I had told them of my search for Parvati. She gave them a message for me and with their voices they summoned Jatayu who found me and told me where to find her.'
  'In the past there have been men with such voices,' the Rani said. 'There was Tansen, the Emperor Akbar's court singer, who could summon rain with his voice. And I am told that to the far south there is a temple in which the idol has turned completely around. An untouchable sang to the idol from behind the temple. The wall shattered and the idol turned so the singer could worship it.'
  'I too have heard of such singers. If we are lucky, we will hear Bala and Bala sing and I pray to God their power will be great enough to drive out the demons in Parvati.'
  The Rani promised to take them as far east as Pushkar, where she was to attend a marriage. She was a blunt-spoken woman and she told Kim that because of her ugliness no prince would marry her. Her mother, who had died at her birth, was a woman of great beauty and, because she had taken her mother's life, the prohit said God had cursed her with ugliness. Her father, the Rajah, was a more forgiving man than God. Her mother had been ugly within and he was relieved at her death.   He was also a wise and just ruler. He had given his daughter the same education as her brother. They had had an English tutor, a Mr Weatherby, from whom she had learned not only to read and write, but also philosophy, French and geography. She played cricket, and polo too, and was a fine shot. One day her father died quite mysteriously and her brother was made Rajah by the British. Her father's death had deeply affected her, for she'd loved him and suspected that her brother had murdered him. In the same manner, a year ago, her brother had mysteriously died and the British had appointed her as ruler.
  'Surely they suspected murder.'
  'Surely. But the death of an Indian doesn't amount to much, unless it is to their inconvenience.' She chuckled at some secret which she didn't impart. 'Besides my brother was making such a mess. Do you know, the fool sent a letter to the Resident refusing to comply with his wishes? Naturally he denied this letter, but it sealed his fate. When he died, the government was only too happy to appoint me Rani of Amar.' She announced this title grandly, her voice rising above the roar of the machine.
  'Now, who are you?'
  'I am Kim, a friend of all the world. I was born in Lahore and my parents died when I was still a baby. I grew up in the bazaar. I have no family and no home.' He didn't tell her how he had met Colonel Creighton and been recruited as an Imperial agent, or that the police were hunting him.
  At midday, to his surprise, he discovered that another motor car had driven ahead of them and set up a small camp, complete with a large tent for the Rani to bathe, eat and rest in comfort and privacy. This was a practice copied from the nomadic Mughal emperors. A meal had been prepared, and Kim and Parvati were invited to lunch. The tent was capacious and the Rani, bathed and changed, waved them to their places.
  'She must not be given food,' Kim said. 'Give her rice water.'
  'But I'm hungry,' Parvati said. 'I have a great pain in my belly.'
  'Of course she must eat,' the Rani said.
  'No,' Kim said. 'The food only feeds the demons. Rice water will sustain her.'
  But faced with Parvati's pain and the Rani's insistence, Kim gave in. Food was piled on Parvati's silver plate and as they watched the first morsel pass her lips, she fell into her trance. The Rani cried out in fright. Kim ordered the food removed and fed her rice water. Parvati drank greedily but the demons spat it out; rice water was a thin and bitter gruel. If he had expected them to free her immediately, he was mistaken.
  'I have never seen such a thing before,' the Rani said. 'Who cast this spell?'
  'Her mother-in-law, Gitabhai.'
  'Your mother?'
  'We are not married.'
  'Ahhh. She's another's wife. Whose?' The Rani loved gossip and suspected the husband would be of some importance.
  'I prefer not to mention his name. He is too well known.'
  The Rani graciously accepted his refusal but she carefully remembered the name of Gitabhai. The Rani rose, went to a corner of the tent in which stood an image of Durga and returned with a gold flask.
  'This contains Ganges water. I will sprinkle some on her.'
  The effect of the sacred water on Parvati was startling. The drops sizzled and burned the moment they fell on her skin. She screamed and writhed on the ground. Kim held her to prevent her hurting herself. Then, as suddenly, she fell silent and entered a deep, calm sleep.
  'We must hurry to find these brothers,' the Rani said. 'I didn't believe you when you told me about this woman and her demons.' She clapped there hands and the car was immediately brought to the entrance of the tent.
  They drove through the day and into the, night, stopping only for fifteen minutes for the chauffeur to rest. Every hour, the Rani wet the end of her sari with the Ganges water and wiped Parvati's face. It acted as a balm, soothing the sleeping woman and protecting her.
  They saw the lake of Pushkar gleaming in the dawn light. On the shore was a small cluster of temples. It is water that is granted sanctity by man, Kim thought, and they build temples on the shores and the water returns the sanctity to the land.   The temple to Brahma was at the far end of the village and as the lane was too narrow, the motor car stopped outside the village. Already, the population of the village was seeping out to touch and stare.
  'My car can travel no further,' the Rani said. 'Go with God. I pray to him at you will reach the brothers in time for them to save her.'
 'Great queen, I thank you for your compassion. Surely God will bless you for this act of kindness.'
. Parvati woke and stared dully. With each awakening she grew weaker. She had shrunk further; her face was all hollows. Kim picked her up and became the head of a procession. He passed many temples - to Vishnu, to Durga, even one to Meenakshi. The narrow lane ended at the temple of Brahma. Above the entrance was a carved goose, his celestial vehicle. This, strangely, was the only temple to Brahma in all of India.
 ’Dear Kim,' Parvati whispered. 'What suffering I have brought on you. If you did not love me, you would be free of this pain. We've spent so little time together and I know I am dying. I had lived, during our time apart, on the hope that one day my whole life would be spent by your side. My spirit will always be beside you.'
 "You cannot die yet,' Kim said gently. We will find Bala and Bala very soon. I know they can save you.' He turned to the crowd. 'Has any among you heard of two brothers who sing so beautifully that they can turn stone honey and still the fire and the wind?'
  ‘Yes,' said a handsome man wearing a swollen red turban and a gold ring in each ear. Kim hadn't seen him before and he noted the wary distance between this man and the villagers. He carried a jezail and now pointed it towards the ravines.   'They are travelling east into the Chambal ravines. I have not heard them sing myself but I have heard of their miraculous voices. People travel many, many hours to hear them. I will accompany you. I am Kishore Singh.'
It was in the nature of Kim to attract strangers, men and women alike. He carried himself with jaunty dignity and in his face one readily saw the humour and piety of the man. There was no avarice written there, nor envy and, if he were willing to sacrifice himself for this woman possessed by demons, then Kishore Singh judged it worth his while to befriend Kim and help him find the brothers Bala and Bala.
The ravines were ridges of earth, like skin wrinkled in a deep frown, which stretched for nearly a hundred miles. An army could hide within their folds and for centuries dacoits had used them as a hideout.
  'We can't waste time. She is nearing her end. How far are Bala and Bala?'
  'A day, maybe longer. We'll find them. They travel very slowly.'
Kim followed him, carrying Parvati. It wasn't far to the edge of the ravines but the path was narrow and stony, with steep sandy walls on either side. They stopped often for Kim to rest. Kishore Singh didn't volunteer to carry Parvati. He considered it Kim's duty, his karma, to bear such a burden. Each man had his own and to share it unnecessarily was stupid.
  'Dear, dear Kim,' Parvati whispered. 'You're a foolish man and I'm a foolish woman. I am always in trouble and if you did not always rescue me maybe all my troubles would cease. If you had not grabbed me on the platform at Delhi, I would have been captured by my husband's goondas. I would have ended my life then.'
 'And I would have missed the delight of loving you. Don't talk. You must save your strength.'
  'Oh, Kim,' she sighed. 'I feel so tired. I feel as if something inside is consuming me. I am going to die.'
   By nightfall, when they halted, Kim thought they couldn't have travelled far. The landscape looked unchanged. They had followed a twisting, tortuous path and for all he knew they could well be back where they'd begun that morning. Yet he trusted Kishore Singh who moved so confidently through the maze of ridges.
  'Wait here for me,' Kishore Singh said and strode into the darkness. Kim lay back, weary. His arms ached from carrying Parvati and his throat was parched. He stared at the sky, clear and interminable, and couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.   He slept, and dreamed of the mountains. He felt cold air on his face, saw the morning sun brush the snowy peaks. He heard the wind keen through the deodars and pine trees and tasted the cool waters of the mountain streams. When he drank, they numbed his lips and their icy touch tingled his cheeks.
   He was woken by a sharp prod and saw the black barrel of a musket. He sat up. It was Kishore Singh. Behind him were three men, each carrying a musket. He did not introduce them.
  'Bala and Bala are not far. If we leave now, we'll meet them at dawn.'
  On the ground Kim saw a makeshift stretcher: two poles held together by crude rope net. He carefully placed Parvati on it, and one of the men took one end and Kim the other. The silent procession wound through the ravines and Kim noted now an excess of caution in Kishore Singh.
  They stopped suddenly and Kishore Singh went gliding off into the darkness and minutes later returned to beckon them on.
'What is it?' Kim asked.
  , Kishore Singh didn't reply but moved even more cautiously. The ravines were black in shadow and each time they came to a rift of moonlight, they took turns to scurry across as though it were a stream of water. While the men who carried the other end of the stretcher took turns, Kim remained at Parvati's head. She was barely conscious and he worried that she might not last until dawn. She moaned once and Kishore Singh was quick to clamp a hand over her mouth. Kim wanted to tell them to hurry, hurry but he knew they were being careful for a reason. He was only certain they were moving west from the night sky. Dawn came gently, and as the stars began to fade Kishore Singh called a halt.
   'Voices carry,' he whispered. 'I have an enemy in these ravines. We look for each other and pray the other will be unprepared when we meet. This man betrayed and murdered my father, Man Singh. My father was in Tihar Gaol and this man, who was his lieutenant, was meant to help him and his three companions, also one Anil Ray whom I don't know, to escape. Instead he set a trap and shot my father as he was escaping.'
   'I too was in Tihar, but I never knew your father,' Kim said. 'Yet it is strange that in this cruel and desolate place, in this darkness, the name of a man I know and also helped to escape should be spoken. It's an omen. We will be bound together all our lives. It is another of my karmas. But I have no liking for Anil Ray. He is too embittered.'

It was an hour past dawn when they finally found the brothers Bala and Bala, walking east hand in hand, following the invisible line that had led them from their village in the distant south so many years earlier. The pattern of their journeying was to cross from east to west, walk north for a day, then move from west to east. In this way they traversed India and would eventually end their journey in the Himalayas. They had grown since Kim had last seen them near Burhanpur and down had sprung on their cheeks. Their faces, however, because of blindness, hadn't lost their unfinished look. The features were still soft, all but shapeless. Eyes, Kim had thought then, give the character to a face. With the blind it's impossible to see within. Bala on the right carried his ravanhatta; Bala on the left the cymbals. Their positions never changed for Bala on the right saw only the right half of the world and the other Bala saw only the left. If they should change, they would see nothing at all through their minds.
   They recognised Kim and the smiles on their faces were identical. 'We thought we would meet you again,' they said in perfect unison. 'In the pattern we weave across the land, some men occur and recur in our lives. Our destiny is interwoven with the destinies of men such as you. You received the message we gave Jatayu to carry to you?'
   'Yes. This is the woman who gave it to you. You must remember her. She is possessed and now near death. I know of no one who can drive these evil spirits out of her and you are my last hope. Jatayu led us to you. Look up and you will see the great bird.'
   But when they all stared up at the sky, they saw nothing except the endless, cloudless blue.
   'We remember her. She was in that island palace.'
   They fell silent, looking neither at Parvati nor at Kim. Though their eyes were closed it was possible to feel their gaze. Kim sensed that they were conferring with each other silently. Kishore Singh and his men were too awed to notice such a subtle change in their appearance. Instead they squatted, mouths agape, staring at the boys who could see and talk in such harmony.
  'We can try,' Bala and Bala announced. 'Bring her into the shade.' Parvati was laid north-south in the shade of a tamarind tree. One brother sat at her feet, the other at her head. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, her breathing was shallow. In spite of the shade, the heat was suffocating. Kim and the men squatted to one side.
  Parvati lay staring up at the sunlight winking down on her through the branches. She found it difficult to arrange her thoughts; she had never been in such danger.
  "I am dying. My life wavers like those leaves. I pass from shadow to sunlight, fluttering and fragile as they. What did I do to deserve such an evil ending to my life? I am told this suffering was for my evil in a past life but I . . . the I who lies here now. . . was not responsible for that past person. Why do I bear his or her punishment? Should my wrongs be visited on a child in the next life? It is unjust. I escaped my evil husband and met Kim, who is more dear to me than this life, miserable and wretched as it is. Now I will be snatched from him. I had also re-made myself. From being a chattel I became a person. I worked, I earned a living, I thought great things and wrote of them. I had a cause. Now I have been reduced to shrivelling flesh. Are these demons real? Or have I invented them at Gitabhai's suggestion? I can't tell. I lose control over such thoughts. It's easier to believe in the evil cast by another person than the evil within oneself."
  She felt Kim take her hand. His warmed hers; she wanted his strength. Her thoughts became distracted by the activity surrounding her. The air seemed sweet with incense and she sensed a ripple among the men watching and waiting for a miracle. She hoped to sense some movement within her, the drawing out of her spiritual poison, but felt nothing, except drowsier.
   At the very first note of the slokas that sprang from the brothers mouths, Parvati jerked rigid; her back arched, her eyes flew open and her mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. Kim looked away, not wanting to see beauty defiled by the demons. Within an hour the air surrounding had grown cold, for the mountains had sent the wind to listen and carry the songs back to them. In the second hour, the surrounding grass and bushes, which had been brittle and brown, turned green and lush; the fruit of the tamarind ripened and fell in abundance around them; the earth quivered in ecstasy as though Lord Nataraj danced. The tree filled with birds and scorpions sprang from the earth and ringed the small gathering, their tails flat and the deadly poison sheathed.
  The brothers continued their singing and many hours passed. Parvati still lay contorted but Kim noticed that the air about her was changing colour. A brown mist rose from her mouth like a visible scream and slowly darkened. It rose higher, and swirled around as though the singing drove upwards. Kim saw shapes in the dark mist, blood too and entrails, and deformed and demented creatures struggling to battle the forces summoned by the singing. Fierce fires darted like snakes' tongues and lightening danced in between. Even as the men watched in fright, they saw the creatures, who were so terrible to look on that they averted their eyes, vanquished one by one. As they fell, they evaporated and the mist grew smaller with each victory. And as it shrank, Parvati slowly relaxed. Her fists unclenched, her staring eyes grew drowsy, her legs no longer trembled but lay still. Her mouth remained open a little, as though to kiss. Evening came, but the boys did not stop their singing for a pocket of mist remained. It swung crazily back and forth like a pendulum, trying to escape the sacred power which had destroyed most of it. They heard the howls and dreadful curses directed at the brothers, but because of Brahma's shield the malignant creatures that had survived so long were powerless against Bala and Bala. When night fell, they caught glimpses of evil power, lit by a pale violet light within the mist. It seemed as if it was too powerful even for Brahma to destroy but Bala and Bala continued their singing, summoning Lord Krishna and Siva and Vishnu to do battle.
  When the sun rose, the air was clear, cleaned as if rain had fallen and washed it. Parvati slept peacefully and the brothers, slowly, softening their voices, stopped singing. For a long time nothing moved. The air sighed in regret and grew warm, the scorpions danced away with their tails raised and what had become green returned to being shrivelled and parched.
  "How can I thank you?' Kim asked. He prostrated himself in front of Bala and Bala as they stood up, and touched their cracked and dusty feet. Kishore Singh and his companions too pressed their faces into the dust touched those feet. They had witnessed miracles. The boys helped Kim and the men to stand up.
  'Lord Krishna didn't give us these voices for us to be rewarded.' Each took hold of the other's hand. 'We must continue our travels now. But we know our paths will cross yours again, Kim.'
   He watched until they dwindled and faded into the haze. Parvati slept calmly and they carried her as fast as they could to the nearest village. It was small and poor but when they asked for food it was given generously. Only one household had cooked meat that day and the local merchant gave a goat curry. When Kim had gathered enough food, he woke Parvati. She smiled at him with such delight that he couldn't suppress his happiness. Her face was at peace, all her fears had disappeared.
  'Here, eat as much as you can. We'll stay here until you've regained your strength and then continue our own journey away from this part of the country.'
She took a nibble of meat and swallowed, waiting fearfully for the demon. Then she realised that the taste lingered in her mouth, and began to eat ravenously. With each mouthful, her strength returned, her colour heightened and once more she felt the pleasure of being alive.

A FURTHER EXCERPT

CHAPTER SIX
February 1911

'I WISH I could tell Alice I'm safe and well,' Parvati said. 'She must be so worried about me. I also want to tell her how Gitabhai cast a spell over me and how you rescued me again. I miss her friendship and my work at Sher.
     They sat in the spare shade of a hillock not far from the nameless village. Three months had passed since her exorcism and Parvati had gradually regained her strength. Kim knew her true story now and her true name, but couldn't bring himself to call her Mohini. She was happy to forget it too and thought of herself as Parvati, the daughter of the Himalayas.
      For the first time in her life Parvati had come to understand the hardship and pain of her own people. The land here was cruel and it gave sustenance reluctantly. The villagers existed on a handful of millet, onions and hot spices which made such a meal palatable, though they burned her mouth. There was no water. The women walked over a mile to a dried well where water seeped reluctantly into their vessels. Yet the people were kind, and generous with the little they had. How could these people, so starved, so neglected, rise as one and throw out their oppressors? She felt guilt, humiliation and rage, all at once. In the city, she had not thought of them once and now she would constantly.
     And for the first time in his life, Kim had told another person his complete story .To others he had told only pieces so that his life remained a puzzle, for he never provided every piece to one person. Parvati's eyes grew large and round when he first began to talk of his childhood, and she scarcely breathed in case she interrupted the tale of adventure and intrigue. There were times when she wanted to interrupt with the questions that boiled in her but she remained patient. He had begun the telling one hot afternoon and went on as the shadows lengthened. When he finished, she could see every detail of his face silvered in the moonlight.
    'I never thought you were an Angrezi. You behave so much like us,' was her first comment. It was difficult for her to digest this. She had written for Sher about the oppressors, and the man she loved was one of them. And yet, he never behaved as they did but as an Indian. She'd seen for herself his compassion and his singular lack of arrogance. 'You told me you were Pathan when we met.'
   ‘And you claimed to be a boy,' Kim said. 'We all need our guises when we first meet. I cannot be held to blame for my parentage. I knew neither my father nor my mother and my childhood was spent in the bazaars of Lahore in the company of chokras who didn't care whether I was Angrezi or not. Even I didn't know what I was until the Colonel sahib solved the puzzle of my locket. Does it change your feeling towards me?'
    'Dear Kim, if you were a creature from a distant star I wouldn't care.' She smoothed the creases on his forehead. 'In spite of what you know about me, you have never ceased to love me. And my sins are far greater than the accident of your birth.'
Because the village was too poor to offer the hospitality of a roof they slept some distance away in a shallow, sandy dip, which remained cool long after sunrise because it held a pocket of night air .The sand was their mattress and for covering they shared a torn blanket. Only a few stars were visible this night; the moon's glare hid the universe.
   'Will you return to work for the Colonel?' Parvati whispered.
   'I feel, and I mean this only in all humility, like Arjuna in the Gita. I have no charioteer to advise me but I have dismounted from the chariot now and stand on the earth between the gathering might of two armies. One is tightly disciplined and controlled, the other undisciplined and leaderless. Like Arjuna, I see my friends on both sides. I am part, by blood, of the disciplined force that rules this land. But by love and thought, I am Indian. Where does my duty lie in this coming fight? I cannot tell.'
  'Our side,' Parvati said. 'For what?'
  'For freedom, of course.’
  ‘And what's this swaraj going to be? Who will rule this country? India will return to the chaos of her past; we will be ruled by despotic princes again.'
  'No, we will learn from the British. Already a few have the vote and we'll elect our own leaders, as they do in England.'
  'It's a dream that we can do such things. Until we know what we want, there can be no victory. The British rule has been just. .'
  'Unjust,' Parvati whispered fiercely. 'Now you talk like one of them.'
  'It's possible,' Kim admitted softly, 'but so do Gokhale and our other politicians. They don't say: drive out the British. They only want to share the power. It's only men like Tilak who demand total rejection and he doesn't tell us what we shall put in place of the British.'
  Parvati despaired. She could argue all night but only from blind emotion. She had no idea who would rule; she only knew she didn't want the British. In anger, she'd accused Kim of thinking like an Englishman but so did many Indians. Even Mr Motilal Nehru scoffed at Tilak’s call for swaraj.