"There's no-one in the world like you, Karla," I said softly, smiling at her profile as she stared at the night and the sea.
She didn't reply. "So... why do you?"
"Why do I what?"
"Why do you like me-you know, what you said before."
"Oh, that," she smiled, facing me, and raising one eyebrow as her eyes met mine. "Because I knew you'd find me. I knew I didn't have to send you any message, or let you know where I was. I knew you'd find me. I knew you'd come. I don't know how I knew, but I just knew. And then, when I saw you singing to that woman on the beach-you're a very crazy guy, Lin. I love that. I think that's where your goodness comes from-your craziness." "My goodness?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
"Yes. There's a lot of goodness in you, Lin. It's very... it's a very hard thing to resist, real goodness, in a tough man. I didn't tell you, did I, when we worked together, in the slum-I was so proud of you. I knew you must've been scared, and very worried, but you only smiled for me, and you were always there, every time I woke up, every time I went to sleep. I admire what you did there, as much as anything I've ever seen in my life. And I don't admire much."
"What are you doing here in Goa, Karla? Why did you leave?"
"It would make more sense to ask why you stay there."
"I've got my reasons."
"Exactly. And I had my reasons for leaving."
She turned her head to watch a lone, distant figure on the beach.
It seemed to be a wandering holy man, carrying a long staff. I watched her watching the holy man, and I wanted to ask her again, to find out what had driven her from Bombay, but the set of her features was so tense that I decided to wait.
"How much do you know about my stint at Arthur Road?" I asked.
She flinched, or perhaps it was a shiver in response to the breeze from the sea. She was wearing a loose, yellow singlet top, and a green lungi. Her bare feet were buried in the sand, and she hugged her knees.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, the cops picked me up the night I left your place to meet Ulla. They got me, right after I left you. What did you think happened to me when I didn't come back?"
"I didn't know, that night. I couldn't guess."
"Did you think I... did you think I just ditched you?"
She paused, frowning pensively.
"At first, I did think that. Something like that. And I think I hated you. Then I started asking around. When I found out you didn't even come back to the slum clinic, and that nobody saw you, I thought you must've been... doing something... important."
"Important," I laughed. It wasn't a good laugh. It was bitter, and angry. I tried to push those feelings away. "I'm sorry, Karla. I couldn't get a message out. I couldn't let you know. I was out of my mind with worry that you... that... you'd hate me, for leaving you like that."
"When I heard about it-that you were in the jail-it kind of broke my heart. It was a very bad time for me. This... business, I was doing... it was starting to go wrong. It was so wrong, so bad, Lin, that I think I'll never come back from it. And then, I heard about you. And I was so... well... everything changed, just like that. Everything."
I couldn't understand what she'd said. I was sure it was important, and I wanted to ask her more, but the lone figure was only a few metres away, and he approached us with slow, dignified steps. The moment was lost.
He was indeed a holy man. Tall, lean, and tanned to a dark, earth-brown, he wore a loincloth and was adorned with dozens of necklaces, amulets, and decorative bracelets. His hair was matted in dreadlocks that reached to his waist. Balancing the long staff against his shoulder, he clasped his hands together in a greeting and a blessing. We greeted him in turn, and invited him to sit with us.
"Do you have any charras?" he asked, in Hindi. "I would like to smoke on this beautiful night."
I fished a lump of charras from my pocket, and tossed it to him, with a filter cigarette.
"The Bhagwan's blessing be upon your kindness," he intoned.
"And a blessing of the Bhagwan upon you also," Karla replied in perfect Hindi. "We are very happy to see a devotee of the Lord Shiva at this full moon."
He grinned, showing gaps in his teeth, and set to preparing a chillum. When the clay pipe was ready, he raised his palms to gain our attention.
"Now, before we smoke, I want to give you a gift in return," he said. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, we understand," I said, smiling to match the light in his eyes.
"Good. I give you both a blessing. My blessing will always stay with you. I give you this blessing in this way..."
He raised his arms above his head, and then bent over on his knees, touching his forehead to the sand, with his arms outstretched. Kneeling upright again and raising his hands, he repeated the gesture several times while mumbling indistinct words.
Eventually, he sat back on his feet, smiled the gap-toothed smile at us, and nodded for me to light the pipe. We smoked in silence.
