tears.
Krishna sighed. “Pa, is not really a scandal if you marry we.” He leaned against the windowpane and shrugged. “We was going to marry next year anyway.”
Anand stared at Krishna, aghast. He dropped the bag of clothes to the floor and pointed a trembling finger at Krishna. “Listen good: you and Vimla Narine ain’t marrying. No sneaky girl like she go ever take the Govind name.”
Krishna stood up straight. He looked to his mother for help, but she averted her eyes. “She is a good girl, Pa. A smart girl, too,” he said, turning back to Anand.
“Too smart for she own good, creeping away in the night and fooling she parents.” Anand left the room and returned with the Ramayana in his arms. He set the holy epic on Krishna’s desk. “Too smart ain’t good, Krishna.” He slipped out of theroom again and reappeared with the Puranas. “Medium is all right,” he said, placing this text on top of the Ramayana.
“So you want me to leave she?” Krishna sighed. “Pa, why you bringing those books here?” He followed Anand to the door, throwing Maya an exasperated look.
Anand re-entered the room, holding the Bhagavad Gita to his heart and nearly colliding with Krishna. He added the book to the growing pile of texts. “You ain’t leaving she, Son. I sending you away from she.” Anand smoothed a hand over the Bhagavad Gita’s cover. “And these books are for you to study while you in Tobago.”
Krishna shook his head. “Impossible.”
Anand paused mid-step on his way out the door again. He turned on his heel and arched a bushy eyebrow at Krishna. “Impossible?” He wagged his finger at his son, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “You and Vimla marrying is impossible. Studying these scriptures?” He smiled. “Possible.” And then he was gone again.
Krishna sat on the edge of the bed and raked his hands through his hair. He waited for Anand to reappear, an objection burning on his tongue.
“Because when you go to Tobago,” Anand continued, one Vedic text tucked beneath each arm, “is only studying for you.” He added the Vedic texts to the others. “No beach, no liming with friends, no nothing except”—he gestured to the pile he’d made on Krishna’s desk—“studying. Oh—” Anand hurried out again before Krishna could open his mouth. “I forgot the Mahabarata!” he called from across the hall. “The Mahabarata is about virtue and following one’s path of duty.” He shuffled through the doorway and pushed the book into his son’s arms.“As you know, the Bhagavad Gita is part of the Mahabarata, so you can read that text twice. A bonus!” Anand’s eyes were wild. “And guess who stars in these scriptures? Hmm?”
“Shri Krishna,” Krishna mumbled, offloading the text onto the others.
Anand placed a palm on his son’s cheek. “And what is your name?”
Krishna sighed and looked imploringly at his mother again.
Maya shook her bedraggled mane of grey fly-aways. “You drive your father mad,” she sobbed. Then she pressed her fingers against her lips anew.
Dutchie reappeared at Krishna’s shoulder. “Boss,” he said, “you lost?”
Startled, Krishna dropped his hands from the wheel. “What?” He gazed at the sea, but it was useless pretending to differentiate this stretch of blue from the one
The Reverie
had bobbled over a minute ago. Krishna shrugged. “I going the same direction you was,” he said.
Dutchie gave Krishna a knowing smile. “Relax! Tobago over there.” He pointed straight ahead, but all Krishna saw was the sky balancing on the sea. “I mean you lost up here.” Dutchie tapped the side of his head. He whipped a few loose locks over his shoulder. “She must be pretty. What she name?”
“What?” Krishna blushed, feeling foolish.
Dutchie furrowed his brow at Krishna. “What happened to you, Boss? You going deaf?” He lowered his face three inches and bore his black onyx eyes into Krishna’s. “WHAT IS THE GYUL’S
Krishna sighed. “Pa, is not really a scandal if you marry we.” He leaned against the windowpane and shrugged. “We was going to marry next year anyway.”
Anand stared at Krishna, aghast. He dropped the bag of clothes to the floor and pointed a trembling finger at Krishna. “Listen good: you and Vimla Narine ain’t marrying. No sneaky girl like she go ever take the Govind name.”
Krishna stood up straight. He looked to his mother for help, but she averted her eyes. “She is a good girl, Pa. A smart girl, too,” he said, turning back to Anand.
“Too smart for she own good, creeping away in the night and fooling she parents.” Anand left the room and returned with the Ramayana in his arms. He set the holy epic on Krishna’s desk. “Too smart ain’t good, Krishna.” He slipped out of theroom again and reappeared with the Puranas. “Medium is all right,” he said, placing this text on top of the Ramayana.
“So you want me to leave she?” Krishna sighed. “Pa, why you bringing those books here?” He followed Anand to the door, throwing Maya an exasperated look.
Anand re-entered the room, holding the Bhagavad Gita to his heart and nearly colliding with Krishna. He added the book to the growing pile of texts. “You ain’t leaving she, Son. I sending you away from she.” Anand smoothed a hand over the Bhagavad Gita’s cover. “And these books are for you to study while you in Tobago.”
Krishna shook his head. “Impossible.”
Anand paused mid-step on his way out the door again. He turned on his heel and arched a bushy eyebrow at Krishna. “Impossible?” He wagged his finger at his son, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “You and Vimla marrying is impossible. Studying these scriptures?” He smiled. “Possible.” And then he was gone again.
Krishna sat on the edge of the bed and raked his hands through his hair. He waited for Anand to reappear, an objection burning on his tongue.
“Because when you go to Tobago,” Anand continued, one Vedic text tucked beneath each arm, “is only studying for you.” He added the Vedic texts to the others. “No beach, no liming with friends, no nothing except”—he gestured to the pile he’d made on Krishna’s desk—“studying. Oh—” Anand hurried out again before Krishna could open his mouth. “I forgot the Mahabarata!” he called from across the hall. “The Mahabarata is about virtue and following one’s path of duty.” He shuffled through the doorway and pushed the book into his son’s arms.“As you know, the Bhagavad Gita is part of the Mahabarata, so you can read that text twice. A bonus!” Anand’s eyes were wild. “And guess who stars in these scriptures? Hmm?”
“Shri Krishna,” Krishna mumbled, offloading the text onto the others.
Anand placed a palm on his son’s cheek. “And what is your name?”
Krishna sighed and looked imploringly at his mother again.
Maya shook her bedraggled mane of grey fly-aways. “You drive your father mad,” she sobbed. Then she pressed her fingers against her lips anew.
Dutchie reappeared at Krishna’s shoulder. “Boss,” he said, “you lost?”
Startled, Krishna dropped his hands from the wheel. “What?” He gazed at the sea, but it was useless pretending to differentiate this stretch of blue from the one
The Reverie
had bobbled over a minute ago. Krishna shrugged. “I going the same direction you was,” he said.
Dutchie gave Krishna a knowing smile. “Relax! Tobago over there.” He pointed straight ahead, but all Krishna saw was the sky balancing on the sea. “I mean you lost up here.” Dutchie tapped the side of his head. He whipped a few loose locks over his shoulder. “She must be pretty. What she name?”
“What?” Krishna blushed, feeling foolish.
Dutchie furrowed his brow at Krishna. “What happened to you, Boss? You going deaf?” He lowered his face three inches and bore his black onyx eyes into Krishna’s. “WHAT IS THE GYUL’S
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