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Then, while the customary salaams were taking place, and the customary questions about health and other matters that neither cared a fig about, Sita Ram ostentatiously drew a curtain part-way over the connecting door, and retired by way of the other door and the passage to remove the knot from its hole.
I have sent Sita Ram already with a message to the troopers of Ranjoor Singh's squadron. The message was supposed to be from him, and it was worded just as he would have worded it. Presently Sita Ram will come back, when he has helped himself to payment. Then I can send him with yet another message. "Go and put thoughts into the buffalo's head, General sahib, and be quick!
Your shadow has fallen upon me, and I'll have to take the bath of purification before I can eat food! Curse you! Stand aside!" Poor Sita stood bewildered. She made no answer, but the tears coursed down her cheeks. Something akin to pity made the woman pause. Halting at a safe distance from the shadow of the child, she talked to her in a milder tone.
The next day her own advices confirmed the hint, Sita Ram sending a long account of new developments and adding that "Samson sahib is much exercised in mind about it." "All goes well!" Yasmini belled in her golden voice. "Samson has seen the hidden meaning of my letter! If I had told him bluntly where the treasure is, he would have laughed and forgotten it!
Some Greek writer says the Indians were familiar with Homer; whereupon we take up the cry, The Ramayana is evidently a plagiarism from the Iliad; the abduction of Sita by Ravan, of the abduction of Helen by Paris; the siege of Lanka, of the siege of Troy. And the Mahabharata is too; because, because it must be; there's a deal of fighting in both.
And with great humility Avindhya said unto the illustrious descendant of Kakutstha, 'O illustrious one, accept thou this goddess, Janaka's daughter of excellent conduct! Hearing these words, the descendant of Ikshwaku's race alighted from his excellent chariot and beheld Sita bathed in tears.
O mighty-armed one, Avindhya is an old and respected Rakshasa! He told me that Sugriva is surrounded by counsellors like thee. Thou mayst depart now! And with these words she gave me this jewel as a credential. And, indeed, it was by means of this jewel that the faultless Sita had been able to support her existence.
At Gangautri, on the banks of the Ganges, is a wooden temple containing a footprint of Ganga on a black stone. In a strange subterranean temple, inside the great fort at Allahabad, there are two footprints of Vishnu, along with footprints of Rama, and of his wife Sita.
"Love is rare, non-contagious sickness!" asserted Sita Ram with conviction. At the head of the stairs Ranjoor Singh and Yasmini stood looking into each other's eyes. He looked into pools of laughter and mystery that told him nothing at all; she saw a man's heart glowing in his brown ones. "It will be for you now," said Ranjoor Singh, "to act with speed and all discretion.
The story of Rama and Sita is the Odyssey of the East, crooned by grandmothers over the evening fires; sung by wandering minstrels under the shade of the mango grove; trolled by travelers jogging in bullock carts along empty moonlit roads. Sita's devotion is a household word to many a woman-child of India.
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