The Girl with the Golden Parasol

TWENTY-NINE

Time was passing, days were turning. The days were filled with contrasts never before seen in all of history.

The internationally known geologist Dr. Watson had resigned from the university and left for Australia. The evening before the day he left, Dr. Watson went out to gaze at the mountains for the last time. Kartikeya was a student in his department. He said, “Dr. Watson was very sad. He stood for a long time in front of the well where Sapam committed suicide. He pried out a troublesome rock from the crumbling platform of the well. It was an odd rock, almost translucent.

“He spent a long time standing there staring at the rock. Then there was a flash of lightning in his eyes. It was as if he’d gathered all his fury and he suddenly threw that rock into the well. I peered into the well. It wasn’t that dark, and I could see Sapam’s Liberty flip-flop still floating down there.”

Dr. Watson had said, “That was a fossil. A fossil of a conch shell, thousands of years old. A conch from a time when this was a sea. You people use the same conch to perform your puja. . a part of puja to Krishna.”

Kartikeya said they’d asked Dr. Watson why he decided to leave.

Dr. Watson had laughed and replied, “Because I don’t feel ‘safe’ here. Times have changed. Now I’m afraid.”

“Me too, Kartikeya!” Rahul said in a weak voice.

“Who’s not afraid? Is anyone safe here?” Kartikeya scolded. “All of the vile, dangerous, base, and hedonistic things we’ve imported from the West. Gambling, profiteering, weapons, fizzy, toxic drinks, alcohol, pornography, pizza, cars. People here have lost their minds pursuing this merchandise of thrill, titillation, frenzy, and violence. People here want the worst from the West, but want to kill and destroy the best it has to offer. These are its assassins. Enemies.”

Kartikeya’s eyes had become red with rage. “Buy a gun from America. Use it to shoot Jesus. Use the vilest thing invented by the West to commit the greatest murder in history. Buy a car from Japan. Use it to run over Buddha’s head. Find biochemical weapons from Iraq. Use them to kill the Prophet Mohammad. Get a missile launcher from Israel. Use it to blow Jehovah’s body to bits. Devil barbarians!” Kartikeya was out of breath.

“But really, what can we do?” Someone uttered this sentence, and it floated down, lodged itself inside everyone sitting in the room, and twitched like the wounded tail of a gecko.

Kartikeya’s words echoed in Rahul’s head. “They’ll take the fire from the Rig Veda and use it to burn all the Vedas. They’ll take the trishul trident from the Puranas and use it to impale Shiva and Vishnu. They’ll get their hands on a Bramastra and launch it to annihilate all of creation.”

They will throw all enlightened souls in the history of mankind into conflict with one another, then crush them underfoot.

They are the Critters, sent here by Satan from some other world.

They are Ravana’s offspring, returned by the sea, who now hold everything in their hands: power, capital, language, words, newspapers, computers, television, satellites launched into outer space, atomic bombs, and quite a huge market.

“What kind of realization was this?” Rahul wondered.

He felt like sending an email to the president of the United States that would read, “If you truly consider yourself a follower of Jesus, then remove yourself from these all-powerful salesmen. They are the ones who murdered the compassion of Christ.”