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35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

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‘MANY GHOST HERE’<br />

at <strong>the</strong> foot <strong>of</strong> my camel, proceeding not so much to charm <strong>the</strong> sorry<br />

reptile as to hit it with a stained old gourd pipe.<br />

‘Where are your people heading?’ I asked him.<br />

‘That way, sahib,’ he replied, gesturing east with his head.<br />

‘That way?’<br />

‘To water, sahib. We have no water in our village. Maybe we go to<br />

city for job.’<br />

‘What would you do <strong>the</strong>re?’<br />

He shrugged. It meant he’d do whatever he had to. ‘Will you<br />

return to your village?’<br />

‘Village gone now, sahib. These peoples having no home now.’<br />

Girdhar rode up beside me. Two or three barked words from him<br />

made <strong>the</strong> man hastily fling his wretched snake back in its wicker<br />

cell and run <strong>of</strong>f.<br />

‘Big cheats, <strong>the</strong>se people,’ Girdhar told me confidently.<br />

‘They say that <strong>the</strong>ir village ran out <strong>of</strong> water.’<br />

‘Too much lazy,’ he replied. ‘Need water, <strong>the</strong>n well must be <strong>the</strong>re.<br />

These people too lazy to dig new well.’<br />

Girdhar had firm ideas about things, and particularly about<br />

people. Few ever came up to his standards; and nomadic peoples<br />

always seem to frighten those who cannot imagine a permanent<br />

life on <strong>the</strong> road.<br />

Perched now on a camel again, out <strong>of</strong> necessity, Bentley was<br />

clicking his shutter furiously, capturing images <strong>of</strong> a people who could<br />

easily have blended into any place or period over <strong>the</strong> past four<br />

millennia. As a result, he had an ocean <strong>of</strong> desperate humanity lapping<br />

at his feet: three or four generations <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>se displaced villagers<br />

demanding pens, waving snakes, grabbing at saddlebags, shouting<br />

for money or pop bottles or clo<strong>the</strong>s or absolutely anything that <strong>the</strong><br />

rich Feringhees might discard <strong>the</strong>ir way. Tossing cigarettes, gum,<br />

paperclips, coins, and whatever came to hand, Bentley reloaded<br />

cameras, changed lenses, focused and clicked, focused and clicked,<br />

like a man in a furious trance. It was not <strong>the</strong>se images <strong>of</strong> mankind at<br />

his feet that interested him, however, but <strong>the</strong> camp beyond. It was<br />

clearly not <strong>the</strong> sort <strong>of</strong> pastoral nomad encampment Girdhar had<br />

claimed; it was an entire village that had truly just upped and moved.<br />

Beds, bedding, pots and pans, crude wardrobes, cupboards, water<br />

271

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