The bear swayed from side to side, scanning the crowd with those large, dolorous eyes. With a clear view of the animal, I noticed that it wore a leather collar studded with short spikes. Two chains were fastened to the collar, and they trailed away into the hands of two men. I hadn’t seen them until then. They were bear-handlers, dressed in vests, turbans, and trousers, all of which were a startling electric blue colour. Even their chests and faces were painted blue, as were the metal chains and collar of the bear. The bear turned and stood to face me again. Impossibly, one of the men who held its chains spoke my name.
‘Mr. Lin? You are Mr. Lin, I am thinking so?’ he asked.
The bear tilted its head as if it, too, was asking the question.
‘Yes!’ a few voices in the crowd called out. ‘Yes! This is Mr. Lin! This is Linbaba!’
I was still standing in the doorway of my hut, too surprised to speak or move. People were laughing and cheering. A few of the more courageous children crept almost close enough to touch the bear with darting fingers. Their mothers shrieked and laughed and gathered them back into their arms.
‘We are your friends,’ one of the blue-faced men said, in Hindi. His teeth were dazzling white, against the blue. ‘We have come with a message for you.’
The second man took a crumpled, yellow envelope from the pocket of his vest and held it up for me to see.
‘A message?’ I managed to ask.
‘Yes, an important message for you, sir,’ the first man said. ‘But first, you must do something. There is a promise for giving the message. A big promise. You will like it very much.’
They were speaking in Hindi, and I was unfamiliar with the word
The dust on the stony paths rose up in puffs and swirls, and although we were in the centre of a modern city, that place of bamboo huts and gaping crowds might’ve been a village in a forgotten valley. The bear-handlers, when I saw them clearly, seemed fantastic beings. Their bare arms and chests were well muscled beneath the blue paint, and their trousers were decorated with silver bells and discs and tassels of red and yellow silk. Both men had long hair, worn in dreadlocks as thick as two fingers, and tipped with coils of silver wire.
I felt a hand on my arm, and almost jumped. It was Prabaker. His usual smile was preternaturally wide and his dark eyes were happy.
‘We are so lucky to have you live with us, Lin. You are always bringing it so many adventures of a fully not-boring kind!’
‘I didn’t bring this, Prabu. What the hell are they saying? What do they want?’
‘They have it a message for you, Lin. But there is a vachan, a promise, before they will give it the message. There is a… you know… a catches.’
‘A catches?’
‘Yes, sure. This is English word, yes?
‘Yes, I know what a
Prabaker rattled away in rapid Hindi, delighted to be the focus of attention in the exchange. The bear-handlers answered him in some detail, speaking just as swiftly. I couldn’t understand much of what was said, but those in the crowd who were close enough to hear broke out in an explosion of laughter. The bear dropped down on all fours and sniffed at my feet.
‘What did they say?’
‘Lin, they won’t tell who is sending it the messages,’ Prabaker said, suppressing his own laughter with some difficulty. ‘This is a big secret, and they are not telling it. They have some instructions, to give this message to you, with nothing explanations, and with the one catches for you, like a promise.’
‘What catch?’
‘Well, you have to hug it the bear.’
‘I have to what?’
‘Hug it the bear. You have to give him a big cuddles, like this.’
He reached out and grabbed me in a tight hug, his head pressed against my chest. The crowd applauded wildly, the bear-handlers shrieked in a high-pitched keening, and even the bear was moved to stand and dance a thudding, stomp-footed jig. The bewilderment and obvious reluctance on my face drove the people to more and bigger laughter.
‘No way,’ I said, shaking my head.
‘Oh, yes,’ Prabaker laughed.
‘Are you kidding? No way, man.’
‘
