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

‘IT IS NOT MY FIRE THAT BURN YOU HERE’
it to Siva, you see? It was called manikarnika, this jewel. And the
god, the Siva, he was so happy to get it back that he blessed this place
forever. You do understand? He made this place sacred above all
places.’
I nodded. It was hard to tell if he’d just made this tale up, or told
it so frequently that he tended to skip vital details. Sati’s toe had
fallen in Calcutta.
‘And this is my place now,’ he added portentously.
‘Yours?’
‘I will show you.’ He burst into laughter, glancing up at the
swirling charcoal vapours, and then over at me, laughing until his
lungs started barking back, demanding silence. ‘These are old stories,’
he added, minutes later.
The vintage oarsman, practically dead with fatigue, was rowing
us to a dock where I knew from experience tourists were forbidden
to land. They were forbidden even to photograph anything as they
passed by. No one seemed to mind allowing this ancient man to do
all the work. Amar had his feet up, and was puffing idly on an
explosive beedie of his own.
‘Should I leave my camera?’ I asked.
‘Why?’ the dom raja asked. ‘You are my guest here. You do what
you please.’
It was like putting ashore at the end of the river in Apocalypse
Now. Huge fires flared and crackled on every side, temple spires
quivering and alive in the hellish glare, the air acrid with smoke,
yet fragrant with sandalwood, and – oh, yes – the nauseatingly sweet
aroma of burning human meat. Hooded figures abruptly left their
personal infernos, rushing to greet their king. Small boys – apprentice
cremators, perhaps – bent to touch his feet. The dom raja studiously
ignored them all.
Through the swirling smoke, parties of mourners stood,
uncertain what was required of them, yet absurdly relaxed, some
chatting and even laughing. Pundits intoned Vedic chants that
sounded jaded, profoundly bored. Bells clanged discordantly. Drums
thumped and thundered, keeping no discernible beat. On a ledge,
some dozen corpses lay – two shrouded in red, the rest in soiled
white. Wilted flowers were scattered randomly, like litter, over them.
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