Alan Foster: Sagramanda, a Novel of Near-Future India

Licking his lips, his right hand still resting inside his vest, he let his gaze shift from scientist to siren. "I have a confession to make." They both tensed. "I am, sometimes to my own detriment and regret, an honest man." Withdrawing his hand, he revealed that it held nothing grasped in his fingers. He had only been scratching an itch.

"I know what you are thinking," he went on. "I can see it. I will not deny that the thought has occurred to me. But I am scrupulous even when I am dealing with such things as certain recreational pharmaceuticals that are frowned upon by society at large." He sat a little straighter on his hard-backed bench seat. "A man may be poor, but he can still be honorable. I am no longer poor. If I were to try and cheat you, I could not look again into the eyes of my beloved wife Chakra and those of my children." Somberness gave way to a wide, engaging grin.

"Then there is the matter of how I would be reincarnated. Thieves and crooks do not, I believe, come back as handsome men or virtuous women, or tall trees or fine-looking animals. It is a measure of mankind's failure that there are so many whose karma causes them to be reincarnated as rats and roaches." His right hand drew the stuffed takeaway bag closer to his side of the table. "Better to be able to live with three million and oneself than with ten million and a stranger."

Obviously and unabashedly relieved, Taneer exhaled sharply. For her part Depahli rose, put both hands on the table, and leaned across to reward the simple shopkeeper's honesty with a kiss. Though he suspected it would be a kiss the likes of which he could no more imagine than he could envision walking away from the restaurant with three million dollars in a takeaway bag, Sanjay drew back and turned his face slightly away from her.

"Please, miss. When I said I was an honorable man, I meant truly in all things. I am well and surely married."

Pausing halfway across the table she smiled, nodded, and sat back down. Taneer eyed his middleman admiringly. "You are more than honorable, Sanjay Ghosh. You are steadfast."

"Perhaps, but I am also not made of clay." With the table once more separating them, he felt safe in smiling at Depahli. "Please do not tempt me again, Miss De. I fear I would not be able to resist a second time."

She laughed amusedly. "Don't worry, Sanjay. You're safe with me."

Smile fading, he nodded, serious once more. "You must have considered many options for this moment, but I have only my shop and my home village. Do you think the police will now be looking for me?"

Taneer shook his head. "I think not. Why should they? You've done nothing wrong. I am the one who skipped out on a company con tract. If anyone should contact you, feel free to tell them the truth." He grinned. "As much or as little of it as you see fit. Your involvement required you to expedite some small business for me, that's all."

"Yes." Sanjay eyed the takeaway bag. "Some small business. I know nothing beyond that."

A smiling Taneer spread his hands. "See? You have nothing to worry about. No one even knows that I paid you. Or if they suspect, how much I paid you. Which does not matter, because the money came from outside the country. You are quite in the clear, my honorable friend." He rose.

"It's been a long as well as eventful night. I am sure you would like to deposit your money in an all-night security box or a bank or two." He put an arm around Depahli and gazed affectionately into her eyes. "We also have much to do, and all of it should be done quickly."

Sanjay stood, making sure the heat-seal rim of his paper bag was locked tight. While on public transport, it would not do to have any of his takeaway spill out. One last time, his eyes met those of the scientist who had been instrumental in transforming the shopkeeper's life. "I suppose that we will never meet again."

Taneer steepled both palms together in front of his lower face and dipped his head. "With luck," he agreed succinctly.

They parted. Heading for transport that would take him to the section of the city where he lived and had his little shop, Sanjay reflected on everything that had befallen him. It all seemed a dream now. There was so much he would never forget. Not least of all the providential tiger, who might as well have been sent by the gods. As someone who had been raised to be logical as well as spiritual, he knew that was unlikely. The tiger had been motivated by hunger, not an intrinsic desire to save him and his employer. If it had chosen to steal up behind them instead of behind the tracker, it would have taken him or Taneer or the scientist's girlfriend. Nature was an opportunist, not a meddler.

He slowed, frowning slightly. An autocab had come up alongside him to inquire courteously if the gentleman with the takeout food might be needing a ride. Heading for the nearest west-going public transport it occurred to Sanjay that it would not only be safer to take the cab, it would be faster and easier.

Besides, he could afford it now.

Depahli had never thought she might one day be part of the great Indian Diaspora. As an abused child and later as an exploited adolescent, the likelihood of traveling overseas had seemed as remote to her as voyaging to the moon.

Now as she and Taneer stepped out of the transport and hurried along the street that led to their apartment building, all possibilities seemed open to her.

"Where shall we go first, my love?"

"Anywhere you want, Depa," he told her softly. "Anyplace you've ever seen in the movies, or on the vit, or heard about. Anywhere you've ever dreamed of." He looked back down the modest but neatly landscaped street. This late (or rather, this early) in the day few vehicles were about, and even fewer pedestrians. Off to the east, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

"We'll need to establish a base of operations first, acquire a home. Maybe in the U.S. I hear the Indian community in Los Angeles is very accepting, and the weather is not too cold. Vancouver I think we would both find beautiful, but chilly. The same for the U.K. There is always Trinidad, or Fiji." He slipped his left arm around her. "We'll find a place, a place where we will both be happy." He squeezed her tightly against him, and she did not resist. "A place to raise our children.

"But first, we need to make a short detour and a quick visit. In Switzerland, to a certain banking institution, in the city of Zurich."

Entering their building, they made their way in the empty lift up to their apartment. Though it had been her residence for many months now, Depahli found that she was not going to be sorry to leave it. It had been a refuge, but not a home.

A home. She had not experienced one since childhood, and that offered little worth remembering. She was going to start her own, and with the man she loved. Eyeing Taneer as he began pulling suitcases down from the shelf in the living room closet, she knew that she would follow him anywhere, even if he was dead broke.

"I'll start getting things together in here, my love," she told him. "Grab a case and take what you think we'll need out of the bedroom."

Turning, he nodded to her. What a woman, he found himself thinking as he watched her pack only what was necessary from their temporary existence. Not only beautiful and street-smart, but efficient. They were going to build a life together that would rival the fabled cohabitation of Vishnu and Lakshmi.

In the bedroom, Taneer set the empty travel case down in front of the four-drawered dresser and murmured a command for the lights to turn on. As they did so, he was startled not by the intensifying illumi nation, but by a voice. A voice he recognized and had not expected to hear ever again.

"Namaste. Hello, Taneer-my son."

Anil Buthlahee sat on the bed. The same bed in which his son and his son's Untouchable harlot had doubtless consummated their filthy, unnatural, offensive relationship many times. The vision nauseated him, and he put it out of his head in order to concentrate his attention on his startled offspring. And also to focus his aim.