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

414
EMPIRE OF THE SOUL
separating them – it must have been hell to manage. My guidebook
claimed that his fees ranged from 11 rupees to 501 rupees, for some
reason. Neither sum would buy you even a ‘few acres’ of swamp
land in India.
‘All you have to do is keep a fire going,’ I elaborated. ‘A license to
print money.’
The dom raja looked worried, as if I were now accusing him of
forging currency.
‘Responsibility is very great for him,’ Amar explained.
I asked the untouchable king if he really believed he was taking
on the karma of those his fire burned.
His eyes met mine for the first time. They were truly scary eyes.
Fierce, dangerous – and there was an aimlessness to the ferocity and
danger burning behind them.
I’d expected to feel the answer was Of course not. Yet I did not feel
this. What I felt was that he knew no man can suffer for another
man’s sins, and that no man should pretend he could, either – let
alone profit from the pretence. He was well aware of the price he
would have to pay for what he did – but he also knew that fraud was
not murder. And he knew I knew it. I swear he did, because he
suddenly became more of a presence.
‘What do you do?’ he asked, telling Amar, who was about to answer,
to shut up.
I told him I wrote – fiction and non-fiction.
He asked what the difference was. I told him, saying I preferred
fiction.
‘Lies?’ he stated more than asked. ‘You earn money from telling
lies?’
‘Not really. It’s entertainment – I hope.’
He laughed. ‘You give people pleasure, yes?’
‘I try. Well, I try to try . . .’
He stood up abruptly, saying, ‘You know all you need to know
about me, I think. Because I know all I need to know about you.
You understand what it is I say?’
I looked at those eyes. I nodded. He placed an arm around my
shoulder, lowering his voice conspiratorially. ‘There is room for all
of us between earth and heaven, no? You make your living – I make