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The following day I bought a used three-speed for forty-five dollars and put the plan into effect. Each weekday I parked in a free lot, pedaled several miles along the Charles River, and braved downtown traffic as I sped to work, which was located two blocks from the site of the Boston Tea Party. I began to think of myself not as Rama's disciple, but as a bicyclist.
He had been holding "last meetings" for years. I wondered if he were trying to suck me back into his organization. I thought about the disciples and about my brother. I had not seen them in weeks. "I'll be there," I told her. Late the following night I rode my three-speed toward Needham.
I wore around my neck a string with a bicycle lock key. I had worn such a string during bike trips of my youth, before locking on to Rama's path. The key was a reminder that waiting just outside Rama's door was the trusted three-speed. I entered the house. The disciples seemed friendly toward me. Rama approached. He said, "You look much better, Agni." I offered him a classical music tape.
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