do that."
"Pshaw!" Mammen Samuel spat. "You may present yourself to others as some sort of a god, but I know that you are nothing but a man! You are only a man like me."
"No, not like you," said Brahmin Keshavan. "You are a selfish, stingy man. You lavish money on yourself and your family, but you have not one rupee to charitably give to those around you."
"You mean, I have not one rupee to give to you! For my workers, it is I who allow them to live. I am like their father who makes it possible for them to eat. Even now, while preoccupied with the disruption of the harvest, I took care to distribute more rice to them. I am the one who permits them to survive. I am good to my laborers, and they love me for it."
Boban Joseph, his own tangle of hair wrapped up in a linen turban, pointed to Rama's freshly shaved head. "Is that for punishment or worship?"
"Not for punishment," Rama said. "I just attained the level of Brahmacarin, so I guess you would say it is for worship."
Boban Joseph considered for a moment. "Is it true that you never have to work?"
"Not like you do," Rama said. "Not in the fields. Not with my hands at all. But I do work. To attain Brahmacarin was very difficult. It required great discipline, harsh training, and much study."
"You are naught but a student!" Boban Joseph sneered. "That's not real work. What real work do you do?"
"I rise before dawn to honor my father as my guru. I spend much time reciting my devotions, and after that I attend to the gods in houses of people who are too old or too sick to do it themselves. The rest of the day I must study for my future spiritual work."
Boban Joseph scoffed. "Not one bit of that is real work!" "To study the Veda is my dharma. And that is the highest work of all," Rama said a bit defensively. He quickly added, "After my initiation I will be twice-born. Then I shall wear the sacred thread of the Brahmins."
Again, Boban Joseph sneered. "I could be twice-born, too, if my family was Hindu. But I would rather work and be a rich man like my father."
"Even if you were Hindu, you couldn't be like me," Rama argued. "When I am twice-born and invested with my sacred thread, my third eye will be opened. I will see through my eye of wisdom. Then I will have the spiritual powers of my father."
Ah, yes. The power to pronounce curses and cast spells. To call up evil spirits. Boban Joseph stared at the scrawny boy, and a twinge of fear ran through him. But he mustered his bravado. "Your powers don't frighten me," he stated. "Your father's tiger doesn't frighten me!"
"My laborers respect me," Mammen Samuel said to Brahmin Keshavan. "They need a superior being to look up to, someone far above any ordinary person. They need someone they can depend on to deal with the forces that lie outside their control. For them, I am that person."
"Why, then, did you come to me?" asked Brahmin Keshavan." Cast a spell of your own to rid your slaves of the tiger."
"I deal in the real world, not in the realm of superstition!"
"Then I ask once again: why did you come to me?"
Mammen Samuel didn't answer, so the Brahmin pressed harder. "If you feared the tiger to be an evil spirit, why did you dare carry your small son to within the reach of its deadly jaws?"
Mammen Samuel bristled. "I kept Saji Stephen safely in my care the entire time. Never was he in any danger."
"You are absolutely certain of that? Or is it that you would risk the life of your youngest son in order to ensure great profits from your harvest?"
Mammen Samuel's moustache twitched and his black eyes flashed, but fury so flooded him that his tongue could not form an appropriate reply. He turned his back on the Brahmin, ready to walk away. But then he paused. Without turning again to face Keshavan, he warned, "Work your spells, if you will. Call down a mountain of curses. What does it matter to me? I can gather others around me who will help me bring in my harvest. Savages from the hills and the
"Pshaw!" Mammen Samuel spat. "You may present yourself to others as some sort of a god, but I know that you are nothing but a man! You are only a man like me."
"No, not like you," said Brahmin Keshavan. "You are a selfish, stingy man. You lavish money on yourself and your family, but you have not one rupee to charitably give to those around you."
"You mean, I have not one rupee to give to you! For my workers, it is I who allow them to live. I am like their father who makes it possible for them to eat. Even now, while preoccupied with the disruption of the harvest, I took care to distribute more rice to them. I am the one who permits them to survive. I am good to my laborers, and they love me for it."
Boban Joseph, his own tangle of hair wrapped up in a linen turban, pointed to Rama's freshly shaved head. "Is that for punishment or worship?"
"Not for punishment," Rama said. "I just attained the level of Brahmacarin, so I guess you would say it is for worship."
Boban Joseph considered for a moment. "Is it true that you never have to work?"
"Not like you do," Rama said. "Not in the fields. Not with my hands at all. But I do work. To attain Brahmacarin was very difficult. It required great discipline, harsh training, and much study."
"You are naught but a student!" Boban Joseph sneered. "That's not real work. What real work do you do?"
"I rise before dawn to honor my father as my guru. I spend much time reciting my devotions, and after that I attend to the gods in houses of people who are too old or too sick to do it themselves. The rest of the day I must study for my future spiritual work."
Boban Joseph scoffed. "Not one bit of that is real work!" "To study the Veda is my dharma. And that is the highest work of all," Rama said a bit defensively. He quickly added, "After my initiation I will be twice-born. Then I shall wear the sacred thread of the Brahmins."
Again, Boban Joseph sneered. "I could be twice-born, too, if my family was Hindu. But I would rather work and be a rich man like my father."
"Even if you were Hindu, you couldn't be like me," Rama argued. "When I am twice-born and invested with my sacred thread, my third eye will be opened. I will see through my eye of wisdom. Then I will have the spiritual powers of my father."
Ah, yes. The power to pronounce curses and cast spells. To call up evil spirits. Boban Joseph stared at the scrawny boy, and a twinge of fear ran through him. But he mustered his bravado. "Your powers don't frighten me," he stated. "Your father's tiger doesn't frighten me!"
"My laborers respect me," Mammen Samuel said to Brahmin Keshavan. "They need a superior being to look up to, someone far above any ordinary person. They need someone they can depend on to deal with the forces that lie outside their control. For them, I am that person."
"Why, then, did you come to me?" asked Brahmin Keshavan." Cast a spell of your own to rid your slaves of the tiger."
"I deal in the real world, not in the realm of superstition!"
"Then I ask once again: why did you come to me?"
Mammen Samuel didn't answer, so the Brahmin pressed harder. "If you feared the tiger to be an evil spirit, why did you dare carry your small son to within the reach of its deadly jaws?"
Mammen Samuel bristled. "I kept Saji Stephen safely in my care the entire time. Never was he in any danger."
"You are absolutely certain of that? Or is it that you would risk the life of your youngest son in order to ensure great profits from your harvest?"
Mammen Samuel's moustache twitched and his black eyes flashed, but fury so flooded him that his tongue could not form an appropriate reply. He turned his back on the Brahmin, ready to walk away. But then he paused. Without turning again to face Keshavan, he warned, "Work your spells, if you will. Call down a mountain of curses. What does it matter to me? I can gather others around me who will help me bring in my harvest. Savages from the hills and the
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