Shantaram полностью

‘Well, I do think that our definition is closer, in its precision, to the photon-second measure than it is to the platinum-iridium bar, but the point is essentially correct. I think that when we look for an objective way to measure good and evil, a way that all people can accept as reasonable, we can do no better than to study the way that the universe works, and its nature-the quality that defines the entire history of it-the fact that it is constantly moving towards greater complexity. We can do no better than to use the nature of the universe itself. And all the holy texts, from all the great religions, tell us to do this. The Holy Koran, for example, is often telling us, instructing us, to study the planets and the stars to find truth and meaning.’

‘I still have to ask the question, why use this fact about the tendency toward complexity, and not some other fact? Isn’t it still arbitrary? Isn’t it still a matter of choice as to which fact you choose to use as the basis for your morality? I’m not trying to be obtuse here-I really think it still seems quite arbitrary.’

‘I understand your doubt,’ Khader smiled, raising his eyes to the seasky horizon for a moment. ‘I, too, felt very sceptical when I first began along this road. But I am now convinced that there is no better way to think of good and evil, at this time. That is not to say that it will always be the best definition. With the measure of the metre, as well, there will be another, slightly better way to measure it, in the future. As a matter of fact, the current best definition uses the distance travelled by a photon of light in a vacuum, as if nothing happens in a vacuum. But we know that all sorts of things are happening in a vacuum. There are many, many reactions taking place in a vacuum, all of the time. I am sure that in the future an even better way to measure the metre will be found. But, at the moment, it is the best way that we have. And with morality, the fact of the tendency toward complexity-that the whole universe is doing this all the time, and always has-is the best way we have to be objective about good and evil. We use that fact, rather than any other, because it is the largest fact about the universe. It is the one fact that involves the whole universe, throughout the whole of its history. If you can give me a better way to be objective about good and evil, and to involve all the people of all the faiths, and all the non-believers, and the whole history of the whole universe, then I would be very, very happy to hear it.’

‘Okay. Okay. So the universe is moving along toward God, or toward some Ultimate Complexity. Anything that helps it along is good. Anything that holds it back is evil. That still leaves me with the problem of who judges the evil. How do we know? How do we tell whether any one thing we do will get us there or hold us back?’

‘A good question,’ Khader said, standing and brushing the creases from his loose, linen trousers and his knee-length, white cotton shirt. ‘In fact, it is the right question. And at the right time, I will give you a good answer.’

He turned away from me to face the three fishermen, who’d stood with him and were waiting attentively. For a moment, I teased myself with the conceit that I’d stumped him with my question. But that prideful hope dissolved as I watched him talk with the barefoot fishermen. There was such apodictic certitude in Khader’s every pronouncement, such a decisive, incontrovertible assurance in the man, that it informed and composed even his stillnesses and silences. I knew that there was an answer to my question. I knew that he would give it to me when he judged the time to be right.

Standing near him, I eavesdropped on his conversation. He asked them if they had any complaints, if there was any bullying of the poor men on the dock. When they told him there was none, just at that time, he asked them about the available work, and if the jobs were fairly distributed among those with greatest need. Reassured on that point as well, he asked them about their families and their children. The last of their conversation was about the work on Sassoon Dock’s fishing fleet. They told him about the mountainous, stormy waves, the fragile boats, the friends made at sea, and the friends lost at sea. He told them about the one and only time he’d sailed the deep water, during a violent storm, in one of the long, wooden fishing boats. He told them how he’d tied himself to the boat, and how fervently he’d prayed until they’d sighted land. They laughed, and then tried to touch his feet in a respectful goodbye, but he lifted them by the shoulders and shook hands with them, one by one. When he parted from them, they walked away with their backs straight and their heads high.

‘How was your work with Khaled?’ Khader asked me when we walked back through the dock.

‘Very good. I like him. I liked working with him. I’d still be with him if you hadn’t put me to work with Madjid.’