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Updated: May 20, 2025
I had been premeditating this moment. Selecting the appropriate spot on Jitendra's anatomy, I administered a pinch as resounding as the one he had given me on the train. "Doubting Thomas, the Lord works-in a hurry, too!" The hostess reentered with a PUNKHA. She steadily fanned us in the Oriental fashion as we squatted on ornate blanket-seats.
Joy was within me as I boarded the train, but this was Jitendra's day for tears. My affectionate farewell to Pratap had been punctuated by stifled sobs from both my companions. The journey once more found Jitendra in a welter of grief. Not for himself this time, but against himself. "How shallow my trust! My heart has been stone! Never in future shall I doubt God's protection!"
A slight young man of pleasing countenance approached at rapid pace. Halting under our tree, he bowed before me. "Dear friend, you and your companion must be strangers here. Permit me to be your host and guide." It is scarcely possible for an Indian to pale, but Jitendra's face was suddenly sickly. I politely declined the offer. "You are surely not banishing me?"
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