I’m pondering the question of trust, about how I can be certain Karun won’t go trawling after other men in the future, when my line of thought leads me down a less than noble path. Karun’s been faithful all these years, somehow keeping his cravings in check. Perhaps it’s a consequence of his low sex drive, but he’s never gone burrowing through the muck for anything else. The only reason he acted this time was that Jaz reappeared. I feel my indignation spike towards Jaz—not only for the blatant invasion of our marriage, but also for the way he hoodwinked me into leading him here. Should I be that devastated if he gets his just deserts? Wouldn’t we be safe if this stimulus never returned? Surely it’s in my interest—our interest—for the temptation of Jaz to vanish, once and for all?
Instantly, I feel mortified, ashamed of myself. I mean no ill, I rush to reassure the life forces of the universe, to clarify for any hovering spirits. Without Jaz’s help I wouldn’t even be here—it isn’t in my nature to wish harm on him or anyone else. I think of Karun’s desperation, of his anguished pleas to save Jaz, who’s apparently ready to sacrifice himself for our sake. Despite any lingering resentment, of course I will try everything I can to rescue him.
And yet, a corner of my mind can’t help make the guilty calculation: What chance do Karun and I have against the whole of Bhim’s apparatus? No matter what our tack, the odds of prevailing look grim—I try not to let this realization run wild in my brain. It’s not my fault Jaz decided to follow me, I remind myself—I should have nothing on my conscience if we don’t find him. Which wouldn’t necessarily signify something morbid—for all I know, Bhim could have secretly released him.
Returning to the room, I find Karun hasn’t moved from the sofa. I do not reveal my decision to stay with our marriage. Instead, I go to the bathroom and wash my face, then bring out a wet towel and hand it to him. “We have to see the Devi. She’s taken quite a shine to Jaz. If anyone can save him, she will.”
THE GUARDS EXPLAIN their orders apologetically. We’re allowed to descend chaperoned to the garden, but cannot converse with anyone. An audience with Devi ma is out of the question. They’ll let me talk to Anupam, but technically, even she should be off-limits.
Before they can change their minds, I hurriedly give Anupam my message. “Tell Devi ma my husband saw her beloved Gaurav taken prisoner in the hotel annex. She has to find him and free him at once or Bhim will have him killed.”
Anupam gets very nervous—she won’t remember the message, she has to report to the kitchen for work, do I really expect anyone will allow her up to see Devi ma? I tell her she can convey it to Chitra in that case, make her repeat the lines a few times, and send her on her way.
There’s little to do now but wait. The prospect of lingering in the room with the claustrophobia of what’s passed is too grim, so Karun and I sit on a bench near the base of the steps. He will not look at me—holding his head in his hands, he rocks his body to and fro silently. Every few minutes, he gets up to pace, like an anxious relative keeping vigil outside an operation theater. I try to summon up sympathy for him, but my own self-pity keeps getting in the way.
I expect the Devi to send for us, for Chitra to appear, or even Anupam to return and tell us what happened. But nobody comes. The hotel turrets turn gold, then crimson in the setting sun, their shadows lengthen over the pool and badminton courts. An attendant brings us tea, then a plate of biscuits and samosas. The sounds of dholak and musical tongs waft across the gardens—I notice an audience has clumped around the stage. Through the darkening twilight, a large white buffalo shape glides surreally past the backdrop of the farthermost hotel wall.
Just when Karun seems to have rocked himself into a trance, and I’m despairing that everyone’s forgotten about us, the guards approach. “They’ve called you upstairs. To Devi ma’s floor.”
THE CLERKS OUTSIDE the suite are as stubborn and nitpicking as before. They want to know who Karun is, where he has appeared from, why they weren’t apprised of his visit in advance. Our escort of guards fails to impress them—only when Chitra appears and answers all their questions, do they grudgingly allow us to proceed.
“I’m glad Gaurav was able to find your husband,” Chitra says, her tone sounding anything but pleased. “Though letting him go off with Guddi has created a big headache for us. Devi ma is very upset. She keeps asking for her Gaurav-ghoda. Without him, she refuses to eat or even talk to anyone.”
“But I sent you a message. Through Anupam. Didn’t you get it?”
“Yes, yes, the girl from the kitchen who ruined her sari. She came up to say that Gaurav’s been captured—somewhere in the annex, apparently. Despite all my warnings to keep away—now you see what happens to those who don’t do as I say.”
“But haven’t you informed Devi ma? All she needs is to give the order. To have Gaurav freed, no matter where he might be.”
Chitra makes a scoffing sound. “If only it were that easy. We’re talking about Bhim’s annex—despite what you might imagine, Devi ma doesn’t control everything. If that’s where Gaurav is, we can’t just blunder in—why do you think I kept pretending it was unoccupied? Guddi seems to have vanished as well, or I’d ask her what happened, exactly.”
“You mean you haven’t done a thing to look for him?” Karun cuts in. “All this time my friend might be getting killed and you’ve kept us waiting around uselessly? I’ve already told you what happened, what more do you need?”
Chitra stiffens. “I have bigger problems to worry about, whoever you think you might be. If your friend had listened to me and not gone in there, he’d be safe. Instead of endangering not only himself, but also poor Guddi—”
“If he had listened to you, he’d have never found me—”
“What my husband means,” I interject with a conciliatory note, “is that perhaps you could at least try telling Devi ma, to see if something might come of it.”
“Tell Devi ma?” Chitra laughs. “Do you hear that racket outside?” I pause to listen—muffled crashes issue from the terrace, interspersed with yells and screams. “That’s her, breaking every bottle and plate because Gaurav’s missing. Any minute now she’s going to decide to escalate into her Kali mode—demand a drink of human blood or try to set fire to the place. My job is to protect her, prevent her from getting to that stage. Goading her on about Bhim, when she can’t really do anything about him, will only get her more inflamed.”
Chitra shakes her head. “Besides, Bhim is the only one who can calm her down from this state. He’ll be here any moment now—in fact, he’s the one who ordered you brought up to wait for him.”
“Well, I’ve waited enough,” Karun says. “If you won’t tell Devi ma, I will.” Sidestepping Chitra, he strides towards the terrace. He dodges the guards and bursts out through the door, as Chitra, shouting for him to stop, gives chase. I follow as well, narrowly escaping the grasp of a Khaki who lunges my way.
The air outside smells of burning plastic—by the edge of the infinity pool lie the smoking remains of a beach chair. One of the potted trees is also on fire, which the attendants try to douse with water scooped out from the pool in a saucepan. Biscuits and pakodas and colorful orange laddoos float in the water, along with wooden trays, a plastic table, even an upturned throne bobbing amidst a swirl of red fabric. The terrace is littered with such a profusion of broken china that I wonder who could have supplied the Devi so many plates. At first I can’t locate her amidst the pandemonium of all the people running around. Then, behind a ring of devotees broken free from their guards, I spot the flash of a neck painted gold, the glimpse of a stunted arm.