Manil Suri - The City of Devi

“You might think me cold-blooded, but this is one of the best possible outcomes in terms of human cost. Only one or two cities struck, that too almost empty—can you imagine the minuscule probability? There was bound to be an exchange, either now or in the future—things had gone too far. Every war-game simulation I’ve ever seen predicted results more final, more unthinkable, than how this seems to have played out.”

SARITA TALKS A LOT about Karun’s triangle—the trinity the three of us formed, the one the baby will restore. In fact, she gets a bit obsessed with the idea, seeing triads everywhere she goes: sea, land, air; earth, sun, moon; even India, Pakistan, and China. It’s as if she can only deal with the universe now by breaking it down into these triangular building components. “We’re going to have a son,” she announces so often that she might be trying to browbeat her belly into this outcome. The choice of “we” instead of “I,” so alarming to the Jazter sensibility of yore, now gives him a feeling of reassurance. Sarita even claims to have the perfect name: “Karun”—a prospect that completely weirds me out. Too Freudian, I finally get across, and she reluctantly agrees to think of another.

A jag appears in our triangle. Now that life returns to normal, isn’t it time to enrich it once more with the venerable custom of shikar? The Jazter finds Rohil on the dunes of Nagoa Beach one afternoon. Rohil of the long hair, Rohil of the green eyes, Rohil of the olive ancestry that shows in his skin. He’s very young, only twenty or so—but oh, such a promising student.

We start meeting every afternoon in one of the crumbling barracks of the fort. There are no tourists these days, so the guards have gone, the gates never close. The Jazter teaches his eager disciple everything he knows. We mostly just lie in each other’s arms—it’s not really shikar, those days have grown too old. Afterwards, perhaps as a substitute, we play hide-and-seek (though sometimes soldier and sergeant) through the nooks and crannies of the fort.

Perhaps the experience with Karun has sharpened her instincts, because all of a sudden, Sarita knows. “About your friend,” she says one night as I arrange the apron over her. I begin to ask whom she means, but she simply breathes in deeply. “Whoever it is, I just want to tell you it’s OK. I’ve been through this before, and I’m not going to make the same mistake again. I know you have your needs—it’s actually good for us all if someone ties you to this place.” Her forehead creases, but neither anger nor jealousy colors her face.

“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t impose. But these times are hardly normal. The baby’s chances will be so much better with two parents behind him instead of one. If you ever think of leaving, you have to let me know. With Sequeira expecting so much from us, we’ll have to think of what to say.”

I try to assure her of my intention to stay, but can’t quite clear the worry from her eyes. She lies there like a doll with her arms tucked close to her sides under the apron. “I know I might not have much you want. I only have the baby to give.”

The night is much cooler than any so far, and Sarita soon relaxes into slumber beside me. But I cannot sleep. I toss and turn. I stare at the ceiling. Perhaps doing so intently enough will allow my gaze to penetrate through to the sky beyond.

At dawn, I finally get up. I’ll go to the water, I think. The haze swirls around in the incipient light, lifting like mist from the sea. Although a few pieces of wreckage still bob against the dock, by now the tides have swept the bay clean. I look for Afsan’s boat with its mismatched sails and newly fitted mast, before remembering he left last week. I told him he was lucky to have such an adventure ahead. A pioneer embarking into the unknown, like Vasco da Gama, like one of the original Portuguese. “Why don’t you come along?” he replied, glancing at me slyly.

I make my way east, to the jetty below the fort. Steps lead down on either side of the strip, a lone cannon rolls on its side at the end. Across the water floats the old prison island, the sun bubbles on my right under the sea.

I think of Afsan in his boat. Waiting to see the same sunrise. What if I’d taken him up on his offer? What would I have found, how far would I have reached? Sailing along the coast with him, the explorer within me set free?

But there are discoveries waiting here as well. The future is just as uncharted, as unrevealed. The step I have committed to, the role I’ll assume—becoming a father, taking on responsibility. Isn’t it precisely the newness of this experience that attracted me?—the rung towards adulthood, towards filling the gap I sense inside? Had Karun recognized this need, tried to communicate it to me from the beginning? Could he have seen into the future as Sarita claimed, set up this opening as a gift to me?

Or did he, as seems more likely, envision it for himself? The three elements he was drawn to—wife, lover, and child, counterbalanced around him as evenly as the particles in an atom? Perhaps not a calculated configuration, one that he constructed consciously, but when he saw it, he recognized it as exactly where he wanted to be. And then, like one of those same particles knocked out in a collision to make room for another, he relinquished it all, allowed me to step into his destiny.

The sun has not appeared yet, but its light is already reflected by celestial streaks. They remind me of vapor trails from a jet airplane, which I know they cannot be. Are they cloud wisps, meteor paths, some other heavenly body’s cosmic tracks? Believers might point to them as godly evidence, the Devi’s ethereal scribblings.

Perhaps Karun would have some esoteric explanation for them. Ions colliding, atoms disintegrating, quarks cascading—all the other tricks performed by his exotic menagerie. The luminous arcs of motes as they flare through time and space. I think of all the bodies in motion, creating their own trajectories. Afsan sailing through the water, leaving a wake across the surface of the sea. Sarita and I adapting our paths so that we can continue as a family. Even the life inside her making the tiniest of adjustments to ensure it stays alive. The particles that were once Karun, now streaming free in the universe, at liberty to recombine.

Perhaps this is the place to stop. And acknowledge these myriad paths along which we strive. The sun peeps out and begins to shine on the Jazter’s face. The bruised earth hurtles along, hoping to survive.

TOP KUDOS GOES TO AGENT ARAGI (DOUBLE-OH-ONE), FOR HER undercover work in getting this book completed: her cunning refusal to believe me, each time I declared I’d given up on the manuscript, ensured I kept slogging at it. An enormous thank-you to my editor, Jill Bialosky, for her unwavering support through this entire triptych of novels—like its predecessors, Devi has acquired much polish and definition under her generous attention. My family and friends have kept this project (and its author!) going over the years with their interest and encouragement—particular thanks to Sunilla and Satinder Mody, Rosemary Zurlo-Cuva, Viji Venkatesh, Christie Hauser, and especially Nancy and Frank Pfenning, for their valuable feedback on this manuscript.

I am grateful to several people for technical assistance and background details: Dr. Sunil Mukhi of the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research for his expertise on quantum physics, W3TDH (Thomas Horne of the Montgomery Amateur Radio Club) for information on ham radio and emergency communication, Dr. John Bersia of the University of Central Florida for an illuminating discussion about China, Dr. Sumit Ganguly of Indiana University, Bloomington, for his valuable insights on Indo-Pakistan arms proliferation, and Hans Kristensen of the Federation of American Scientists for the chilling details he shared on the potential use of nuclear weapons. Ashok Row Kavi was a wonderful resource in helping me imagine gay life in Delhi, as was Parmesh Shahani, through his informative book on Gay Bombay. Thanks to Devdutt Pattanaik who first introduced me to the alternative Vishnu-Shiva-Devi interpretation of the Hindu trinity, many years ago.