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Updated: May 27, 2025
Do not weep; for, look you, all Desire is Illusion and a new binding upon the Wheel. Go up to the Gates of Learning. Let me see thee go ... Dost thou love me? Then go, or my heart cracks ... I will come again. Surely I will come again. The lama watched the ticca-gharri rumble into the compound, and strode off, snuffing between each long stride. 'The Gates of Learning' shut with a clang.
On the cut-stone quay above, a line of cab drivers a ticca-gharri stand, nothing less lolled and chaffed and tinkered with their harnesses in every beautiful attitude of the ungirt East. All the ground about was spotted with chewed sugarcane first sign of the hot weather all the world over. I made haste to cross the bridge and to hear the palms in the wind on the far side.
The Government Advocate scowled and picked up his papers; the guard wheeled with a clash, and the prisoner was relaxed to the Secular Arm, and driven to the jail in a broken-down ticca-gharri. His guard and some ten or twelve military witnesses, being less important, were ordered to wait till what was officially called the cool of the evening before marching back to cantonments.
When they came to the crowded Lucknow station there was no sign of the lama. He swallowed his disappointment, while the Colonel bundled him into a ticca-gharri with his neat belongings and despatched him alone to St Xavier's. 'I do not say farewell, because we shall meet again, he cried. 'Again, and many times, if thou art one of good spirit. But thou art not yet tried.
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