The Elephanta Suite by Paul Theroux Read Free Book Online Page A

it too, as sulfurous, the sharpness of scorched dirt, that tang of burned excrement. But neither of them mentioned it, each thinking,
It's smoke, it will be blown away.
And they continued in their routine.
    But when, around noon, there was a break in their routine, they were disturbed.
    Dr. Nagaraj had tucked a message under their door requesting a meeting at one o'clock in his office. He had never written before; his handwriting was black and severe and intimidating; and one o'clock was their lunch hour.
    "What's this all about?" Audie asked.
    They met him together, feeling importuned, but Beth was sheepish when it turned out that Dr. Nagaraj was only being helpful. Somehow he had discovered—obviously from someone at the front desk—that she had been looking to buy a shatoosh, perhaps more than one. Dr. Nagaraj said that he knew a certain man, but that it was not possible for this shatoosh seller to enter Agni. It was not permitted.
    "He is just a common hawker, you see. From the town."
    "The town we keep hearing about," Beth said.
    "Hanuman Nagar," Dr. Nagaraj said. "His shop is that side."
    That name again, of the invisible place.
    "How will we get there?"
    "I will request a vehicle, a motorcar."
    They did not meet the car at the residence, in the circular drive, but in a more circumspect way, at the Agni entrance, near the signs
Right of Entry Prohibited Except by Registered Guests
and
No Trespassing
and
Authorized Vehicles Only.
The white old-fashioned sedan was waiting, curtains on its windows, tassels dangling on the curtains. The Blundens got into the rear seat, Dr. Nagaraj got in the front with the driver ("This is Deepak"), and they left Agni for only the second time in more than three weeks, descending the hill.
    Passing the lookout at the bend in the road where they had seen the monkeys, Beth said, "This man, the shatoosh seller, is he a friend?"
    "I know him," Dr. Nagaraj said in a tone that suggested: I am a doctor, how could a mere shatoosh seller be a friend?
    Walking to the main gateway, Audie had said, "The doc gets a kickback. That's how these things work. The driver will get something too. Everyone's on commission here."
    The road had leveled off at an intersection, the wider road continuing to descend, the narrower one traversing the slope. The car turned into this narrower road, into the glaring afternoon sun, which dazzled them. They averted their eyes, and when they were in shadow again it was the shadow of a row of roadside huts and shops, where there were plodding cows and two boys kicking a dusty blue ball.
    This was the talked-about town, the town they had smelled and heard, the town of the smoke. And now that they were in it they could identify the sounds—not just the laboring buses and trucks, but the wail of music, shrieking songs.
    Dr. Nagaraj said nothing. The Blundens sat horrified, as they had been on the way from the airport, at the squalor, the crowds of people. They drew level with a bus stop where people had gathered near a rusty Tata bus that was shuddering and letting off passengers. Beyond it the road became a main street of one-story shops set shoulder to shoulder above storm drains.
    "What's that?" Beth asked.
    Up ahead there was a pile of soot-blackened rubble inside the sort of walled courtyard she associated with holy places and private villas.
    "Eshrine," Dr. Nagaraj said.
    "Are they tearing it down?"
    "No. Building it up."
    Audie smiled at the confusion. It was impossible to tell whether the place was in the process of being destroyed or put up.
    "Formerly it was mosque. Before mosque it was Hindu temple. Back to Hindu temple now."
    Smoke swirled behind the fortified gates.
    "Who are those people?"
    "Yatris.
Pilgrims. Holy people. They are venerating the site. Also some people protecting the site."
    "Protecting it against who?"
    "Goondas.
Rascals, and Muslims.
Badmashes,
you know?"
    Now they could see occupiers and protesters, both sides carrying signs, all of them