Untitled - Katha

20 ◆
The sky had gathered up a coverlet of clouds. The mighty
Brahmaputra flowed silently beneath it, like some ancient bark
of the sanchi tree. Munshi Vepin Chandra smiled contentedly.
Yes, he told himself, Now memsahib can bask in the glory of
the Brahmaputra. She can entertain all the gora sahibs she
pleases. If need be, she could even hold discourses with the
jatadhari here. The foreigners would never venture onto the
temple premises. But, wouldn’t it be convenient for them to
cross the river and come directly up to this house? Who knows?
The other day, Brown sahib lost his temper and whipped the
carriage driver for some trivial misdemeanour. Who knows what
the future holds?
Within a week the house was habitable. And on a full moon
night in mid-January, Dorothy Brown disembarked from the boat
firmly clutching the hand of the faithful Munshi Vepin. A mantle
of fog shimmered like silver dust over the leaf littered abode of
the Mother Goddess – much like scrapings from the silver pot
used to make offerings of sacrificial blood to the goddess. And
there was the Brahmaputra. In silent repose.
A pack of jackals howled, and swiftly crossed their path to
melt into the thicket. Dorothy Brown walked briskly with the
munshi, a harried servant carrying her trunk followed behind.
This path was now familiar to the munshi. He had travelled by
it many a time in the last few days. The munshi had been
helpful, sticking out his neck with his superiors regarding
Dorothy’s decision to stay in this abandoned house – a haven
for stray dogs and jackals, cattle and horses not to mention
godmen. But he had argued persuasively on the memsahib’s
behalf and had finally triumphed. No wonder the valley people
The Man from Chinnamasta