Then her mood changed, and she bade one of the escort
ask whether the lama would walk alongside and discuss
matters of religion. So Kim dropped back into
the dust and returned to his sugar-cane. For
an hour or more the lama’s tam-o’shanter
showed like a moon through the haze; and, from all
he heard, Kim gathered that the old woman wept.
One of the Ooryas half apologized for his rudeness
overnight, saying that he had never known his mistress
of so bland a temper, and he ascribed it to the presence
of the strange priest. Personally, he believed
in Brahmins, though, like all natives, he was acutely
aware of their cunning and their greed. Still,
when Brahmins but irritated with begging demands the
mother of his master’s wife, and when she sent
them away so angry that they cursed the whole retinue
(which was the real reason of the second off-side
bullock going lame, and of the pole breaking the night
before), he was prepared to accept any priest of any
other denomination in or out of India. To this
Kim assented with wise nods, and bade the Oorya observe
that the lama took no money, and that the cost of
his and Kim’s food would be repaid a hundred
times in the good luck that would attend the caravan
henceforward. He also told stories of Lahore
city, and sang a song or two which made the escort
laugh. As a town-mouse well acquainted with the
latest songs by the most fashionable composers —
they are women for the most part — Kim had a
distinct advantage over men from a little fruit-village
behind Saharunpore, but he let that advantage be inferred.
At noon they turned aside to eat, and the meal was
good, plentiful, and well-served on plates of clean
leaves, in decency, out of drift of the dust.
They gave the scraps to certain beggars, that all
requirements might be fulfilled, and sat down to a
long, luxurious smoke. The old lady had retreated
behind her curtains, but mixed most freely in the
talk, her servants arguing with and contradicting
her as servants do throughout the East. She compared
the cool and the pines of the Kangra and Kulu hills
with the dust and the mangoes of the South; she told
a tale of some old local Gods at the edge of her husband’s
territory; she roundly abused the tobacco which she
was then smoking, reviled all Brahmins, and speculated
without reserve on the coming of many grandsons.
Chapter 5
Here come I to my own again
Fed, forgiven, and known again
Claimed by bone of my bone again,
And sib to flesh of my flesh!
The fatted calf is dressed for me,
But the husks have greater zest for me ...
I think my pigs will be best for me,
So I’m off to the styes afresh.
The Prodigal Son.
Once more the lazy, string-tied, shuffling procession
got under way, and she slept till they reached the
next halting-stage. It was a very short march,
and time lacked an hour to sundown, so Kim cast about
for means of amusement.
