The Avatari by Raghu Srinivasan

became a successful merchant in Venice, the story of the sacred mountain – the subject of his second book – came out. It caught the popular imagination and became a rage, with Marco being much sought-after in society. But the Church declared its contents, especially the sections dealing with reincarnation and the afterlife, blasphemous and threatened to excommunicate him. Also, since it had come out some years after his first book, many felt it was little more than a fantasy, like the “roc” alluded to in his first book – a bird large enough to carry an elephant – which Marco claimed he had actually seen.’
    ‘Was it fantasy?’
    Tim shrugged. ‘Can’t say. Marco is alleged to have said that he had received a message from China, but was sworn to secrecy about its source. Under pressure from the Church, Marco retracted his statements. Said the story wasn’t his. The book was subsequently banned and taken out of print.’
    ‘You managed to read it, nonetheless?’
    ‘Oh, some copies did survive,’ Tim replied. ‘The minute the Church banned it, you can imagine the number of rich and famous people who would have wanted a copy. However, when the sequel did not come out, the public lost interest. I found it quite by chance – loosely bound, with poorly printed sheets – while still at college and bought it for fifty pence at Piccadilly.’ Tim smiled. ‘It was shoddily written, but fascinating. I followed it up by reading everything I could on Shambhala. He paused, then continued, ‘When I was back at Cambridge for my Master’s, I learnt that an undergrad had researched this subject and submitted a dissertation. Of course, they threw it out.’
    Ashton’s voice sounded detached as he asked, ‘Where did Marco Polo search for this sacred mountain?’
    ‘Can’t say. In the story, he remains delightfully vague. You can make out that some of the places are pure fantasy.’ Tim yawned. ‘It is believed that Genghis Khan came to know of this place as he was moving south. Hoping to find it, he sent scouts who never returned. And eventually, he gave up his quest. His grandson, Kublai, came to know of the monastery through Buddhists and sent Marco to confirm its existence, probably to the very same places where it is rumoured to exist – somewhere between India, China and Russia…’
    He stopped in mid-sentence and lifted the decanter to fill Ashton’s glass, but his friend placed his hand over its rim.
    ‘That is, if it ever existed,’ Tim concluded.
    Ashton chose his next words carefully, his fingers running over the rim of his glass. ‘And how would you find such a place? Would there be a map or records of some sort?’
    Tim laughed. Then his expression grew grave as he looked at Ashton. ‘By god, you are serious,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Tibetan legend has it that it can never be found. Only the gifted, whose work cannot be completed in a single lifetime, are supposed to be the chosen few whom divine inspiration will apparently guide to the place. These privileged individuals who make the pilgrimage are sent off on their journeys by their families and fellow villagers with much celebration and fanfare and are never heard of again. These are the avataris , destined to continue their work from one lifetime to the next; they are taught from birth to meditate and remember their past life, so they can begin where they left off.’
    Henry Ashton felt his breath quicken, but managed to keep his face blank. Where have I heard that before ? In Malaya ? Or was it in Vietnam ? He took a deep breath, his mind still far away, and lifted the empty glass to his lips. Tim noticed, leaned forward and filled it. This time, Ashton did not stop him. He took a sip and brought the conversation back to where they had left off.
    ‘But then, how would Kublai Khan have made the journey?’ he persisted. ‘Surely he was no – how did you put it – avatari ?’
    ‘No, he definitely wasn’t, but he could still have made