good measure, his underwear as well.
As they tie his hands with his trousers, one of them starts cursing. Apparently, the victim’s not Muslim—he isn’t circumcised. They decide to carry him back to his corner, where they prop him up against the wall. The noose still dangles from his neck. A Khaki tries shaking him awake to offer him a cigarette.
BY THE END OF M AY , I knew I had learnt to swim as well as I ever would, at least in this lifetime. I could make it to the deep end of the pool, splashing along at Karun’s side, using a medley of movements that bastardized both the breast stroke and the free style. Like someone learning a foreign language without concern for pronunciation or grammar, my swimming was free of grace or fluidity—I had found the crudest way of getting across without sinking.
We went to the beach after almost every lesson, eating our way through all the snacks (except the “cholera special” fruit plate). Sometimes, we sat on the sand to admire the sunset—every third day, we watched the sculptor embark on a new carving, tossing a five-rupee coin on the cloth he spread out on the sand. Karun would elaborate on his father’s own unique interpretation of the Trimurti—how Vishnu, with his sunny disposition, represented the dynamism to make things work, while Shiva personified introspection, solitude, the tendency to withdraw from life. Which left the rest of nature’s attributes for Devi to embody: since she received the power to create, she was the most versatile. “Baji said one of the three usually predominates in a person’s personality. He’d see a child full of fun and frolic, or mischievous like Krishna, and tell its parents, ‘You’ve got a lively little Vishnu there.’ Or call someone very dreamy, lost in his or her own little world, ‘a real Shiva.’” According to his baji, people went through the world searching for their complements. “A Shiva needs a Vishnu or Devi to pull him out of his shell so he can engage with the world, a Devi depends on a Shiva or Vishnu to provide her with seed, and poor Vishnu must constantly run after Shiva and Devi to ensure the universe keeps going. More than just pairing up, though, the universe needs the union of all three. When Shiva, Vishnu, and Devi find each other, when they all coalesce as one, then and only then is the circuit of the universe complete, its true power unleashed.”
“So were you his little Vishnu?”
“No, I guess I was more Shiva—too much the loner, even when little. The Vishnu in our trinity was definitely Baji himself—always on the move, always keeping my mother and me going. We’d enact out my favorite myth, where Vishnu takes the form of an enchantress to seduce Shiva into the swing of things. I’d pretend to meditate, but then roll around laughing the minute Baji sashayed by, draped in a sari.”
Despite these languorous evenings, our courtship didn’t advance to anything more formal, like a restaurant meal or theater outing. Karun and I did return to Juhu with Uma and Anoop, to test my new aquatic skills in the sea (a “double date,” Uma called it). We chose a Sunday, the most crowded time of the week, when a mass of humanity, dark and roiling, covered the beach. An ongoing battle raged against the sea, which churned at its most ferocious, the monsoon being only a week away.
We abandoned the idea of fighting the crowds and the thundering waves in favor of trying to sneak into the outdoor swimming pool at the Indica. Krishan Patel, a Silicon Valley–returned microchip entrepreneur, had announced the hotel as a grand celebration of India’s triumph in the new world order, an “awe-inspiring homage” that would showcase the entire history and roster of accomplishments of his country of birth. The exterior reflected this—turrets and crenellated parapets evoked Mughal forts and palaces, balconies with lace-like Rajput carvings floated from the sides, and the futuristic glass and steel
As they tie his hands with his trousers, one of them starts cursing. Apparently, the victim’s not Muslim—he isn’t circumcised. They decide to carry him back to his corner, where they prop him up against the wall. The noose still dangles from his neck. A Khaki tries shaking him awake to offer him a cigarette.
BY THE END OF M AY , I knew I had learnt to swim as well as I ever would, at least in this lifetime. I could make it to the deep end of the pool, splashing along at Karun’s side, using a medley of movements that bastardized both the breast stroke and the free style. Like someone learning a foreign language without concern for pronunciation or grammar, my swimming was free of grace or fluidity—I had found the crudest way of getting across without sinking.
We went to the beach after almost every lesson, eating our way through all the snacks (except the “cholera special” fruit plate). Sometimes, we sat on the sand to admire the sunset—every third day, we watched the sculptor embark on a new carving, tossing a five-rupee coin on the cloth he spread out on the sand. Karun would elaborate on his father’s own unique interpretation of the Trimurti—how Vishnu, with his sunny disposition, represented the dynamism to make things work, while Shiva personified introspection, solitude, the tendency to withdraw from life. Which left the rest of nature’s attributes for Devi to embody: since she received the power to create, she was the most versatile. “Baji said one of the three usually predominates in a person’s personality. He’d see a child full of fun and frolic, or mischievous like Krishna, and tell its parents, ‘You’ve got a lively little Vishnu there.’ Or call someone very dreamy, lost in his or her own little world, ‘a real Shiva.’” According to his baji, people went through the world searching for their complements. “A Shiva needs a Vishnu or Devi to pull him out of his shell so he can engage with the world, a Devi depends on a Shiva or Vishnu to provide her with seed, and poor Vishnu must constantly run after Shiva and Devi to ensure the universe keeps going. More than just pairing up, though, the universe needs the union of all three. When Shiva, Vishnu, and Devi find each other, when they all coalesce as one, then and only then is the circuit of the universe complete, its true power unleashed.”
“So were you his little Vishnu?”
“No, I guess I was more Shiva—too much the loner, even when little. The Vishnu in our trinity was definitely Baji himself—always on the move, always keeping my mother and me going. We’d enact out my favorite myth, where Vishnu takes the form of an enchantress to seduce Shiva into the swing of things. I’d pretend to meditate, but then roll around laughing the minute Baji sashayed by, draped in a sari.”
Despite these languorous evenings, our courtship didn’t advance to anything more formal, like a restaurant meal or theater outing. Karun and I did return to Juhu with Uma and Anoop, to test my new aquatic skills in the sea (a “double date,” Uma called it). We chose a Sunday, the most crowded time of the week, when a mass of humanity, dark and roiling, covered the beach. An ongoing battle raged against the sea, which churned at its most ferocious, the monsoon being only a week away.
We abandoned the idea of fighting the crowds and the thundering waves in favor of trying to sneak into the outdoor swimming pool at the Indica. Krishan Patel, a Silicon Valley–returned microchip entrepreneur, had announced the hotel as a grand celebration of India’s triumph in the new world order, an “awe-inspiring homage” that would showcase the entire history and roster of accomplishments of his country of birth. The exterior reflected this—turrets and crenellated parapets evoked Mughal forts and palaces, balconies with lace-like Rajput carvings floated from the sides, and the futuristic glass and steel
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