When Dastoor Kukadaru heard our proposal, he refused point-blank and stalked from the house, his mouth downturned. Three days later, however, I received a note with specific instructions. It ended: “Take this knowledge to the grave.”
I fed the message to Jiji-bai’s kitchen fire and planned how it might be done.
A week later, newspapers reported “the Miracle of the Gold Bar.” After praying in full view for three days, Dastur Kukadaru had requested the head priest of the Parsis to visit. Still seated on the porch swing, Kukadaru bade him enter and take as a donation whatever he found in his room. The gold bar was duly discovered on a table near the window, examined for finger marks and found to have none but the head priest’s!
Burjor’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he read aloud from the morning papers. “Construction on the Atash Behram has resumed. It is funded by the miraculous gold bar which sold for the princely sum of ten thousand rupees.”
Adi choked, set down his cup, and let loose a guffaw.
“It will delight Parsis for decades,” Diana said, grinning. “Our very own miracle!”
I glanced from Burjor to Adi. “It is a miracle. Who would believe sensible people could turn down a gift like that!”
“Hush,” Diana scolded, but her cheeks were flushed with pride.
Later that evening, when Diana breezed into the morning room, she smiled to see the company. Soli Wadia stood up to offer his chair and his parents beamed a welcome.
Diana waved Soli back into his place and swooshed over to me. Before I could rise, she plunked herself down across my lap.
I chuckled, moving my arm to make a backrest while Adi hooted. “Diana, really!”
“Whatever’s the matter? We are married!”
“Well, one doesn’t realize how small you are until you’re next to that giant. And likewise, one forgets Jim’s size until you are together.”
I grinned and told her, “That compliments you, my dear, and smacks my face nicely.”
“Adi does everything beautifully,” Diana said, like a regent bestowing a knighthood.
“Except spill what he knows,” I grumbled. “You suspected Satya was in trouble.”
Adi’s eyes grew mournful. “Jim, I didn’t want to bias you against him. He was my friend. Once, he talked about … a girl, then clammed up. Wouldn’t share any sordid details, ’course.”
“Christ, Adi. Perhaps he was asking for help.”
Adi winced. “I regret it. Now, it seems cold, unfeeling. I … I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed!” cried Burjor. “You were accused of murder!”
Adi touched his ears as though the blast might have injured his hearing. I chuckled, pressing my jaw to Diana’s hair. She gurgled a laugh, and then the others joined in. It was a while before, gasping and choking, we wound down.
In the soft silence, I suspect, each of us recalled a different aspect of Satya Rastogi. A man can be different things to different people.
Diana pulled in her lower lip and nibbled on it. “Satya made one mistake and gave his life to rectify it.”
I agreed. “I think he left for Oxford not knowing he had fathered a child. When he returned, he probably learned his lover was dying. He was willing to do anything, cheat anyone, to save Sona. You have to admire him for that.”
“Do I?” she said. “He was completely immoral. He used everyone.”
I shrugged. “What choice did he have? His family controlled every decision. They would have had him walk away from his child. Sona would be sold into a horrendous life. How else could he rescue her?”
Diana rounded on me. “So who, then? Who’s to blame?”
Cartloads of bullion left India, shiploads, while millions lacked drinking water, food, housing, and electricity. It was easy to blame the colonizer. Yet the administrators I knew were hardworking competent men, determined to do right by their responsibilities. Someday, would I be forced to choose a side?
Thinking aloud, I said, “What sort of society allows girls to be sold? What sort of family demands blind devotion? It is easy to blame the ‘haves,’ call them looters, exploiters. But there’s cruelty all around.”
The curtain in my mind twitched. I frowned, grasping at an elusive thought.
Diana stirred, “What is it, Jim? You’ve gone stiff.”
I glanced at the creamy oval of Diana’s face. “Satya had so much cash—why didn’t he take the child and run?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps he was afraid, like that mint worker. And Satya was leaving. His final step would have been to take Adi’s funds.”
I said, “Chand’s gang escaped in the confusion, when Satya’s cousin Pandu grabbed hold of Sona. What if…” My mouth felt dry. “What if that was planned?”
Diana’s eyebrows shot up. “You think he was in on it?”
“No.” I recalled his frenzy as he whipped the horses. “He kept repeating his instructions. That’s all he knew. Ah!” The mist cleared as I said, “That’s why he was chosen. Yes, he was dispatched to bring me to the temple, but … the message ensured he’d come too.”
Diana frowned, sitting up. “He was—called there to cause a ruckus when he spotted Sona? A diversion so Rai Chand could escape?”
I shook my head, seeing a shape behind that curtain in my mind. “Chand is a puppet. McIntyre telephoned this morning, said that when they raided his place, it was deserted. Perhaps one of these days his body will wash up on some beach. Chand failed, you see. When those boxes are opened, his life won’t be worth much.”
I remembered his hand trembling as he read aloud. He knew the rhythm of those words.
Diana began to pace. “But Sona? How could someone know I’d bring her? Papa got your notebook as we planned, and telephoned us from a store nearby. McIntyre was expecting my message. But when we were getting into the carriage, Sona clung to me. How could anyone know we’d bring her?”
I rubbed my forehead. “Drive fast to Tulsidas Mandir. Those were Pandu’s instructions. How could anyone know I’d tell you our destination?”
Adi’s voice wobbled as he said, “Someone … knew you would. And that Diana would bring Sona. And that Sona would leave the carriage and be snatched by Pandu. It seems incredible. But it explains why Satya was so quiet, so secretive, and so terrified.”
I nodded slowly, seeing a face behind the curtain in my mind. A face that seemed to turn and look at me.