Kim (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) - Rudyard Kipling [94]
‘Then one day the young elephant saw the half-buried iron, and turning to the elder said: “What is this ?” “It is even my sorrow,” said he who had befriended him. Then that other put out his trunk and in the twinkling of an eyelash abolished the ring, saying: “The appointed time has come.” So the virtuous elephant who had waited temperately and done kind acts was relieved, at the appointed time, by the very calf whom he had turned aside to cherish—let all listen to the Jâtaka!—for the Elephant was Ananda, and the Calf that broke the ring was none other than The Lord Himself....’
Then he would shake his head benignly, and over the ever-clicking rosary point out how free that elephant-calf was from the sin of pride. He was as humble as a chela who, seeing his master sitting in the dust outside the Gates of Learning, overleapt the gates (though they were locked) and took his master to his heart in the presence of the proud-stomached city. Rich would be the reward of such a master and such a chela when the time came for them to seek freedom together!
So did the lama speak, coming and going across India as softly as a bat. A sharp-tongued old woman in a house among the fruit-trees behind Saharunpore honoured him as the woman who honoured the prophet,242 but his chamber was by no means upon the wall. In an apartment of the forecourt overlooked by cooing doves he would sit, while she laid aside her useless veil and chattered of spirits and fiends of Kulu, of grandchildren unborn, and of the free-tongued brat who had talked to her in the resting-place. Once, too, he strayed alone from the Grand Trunk Road below Umballa to the very village whose priest had tried to drug him; but the kind Heaven that guards lamas sent him at twilight through the crops, absorbed and unsuspicious, to the Rissaldar’s door. Here was like to have been a grave misunderstanding, for the old soldier asked him why the Friend of the Stars had gone that way only six days before.
‘That may not be,’ said the lama. ‘He has gone back to his own people.’
‘He sat in that corner telling a hundred merry tales five nights ago,’ his host insisted. ‘True, he vanished somewhat suddenly in the dawn after foolish talk with my grand-daughter. He grows apace, but he is the same Friend of the Stars as brought me true word of the war. Have ye parted?’
‘Yes—and no,’ the lama replied. ‘We—we have not altogether parted, but the time is not ripe that we should take the Road together. He acquires wisdom in another place. We must wait.’
‘All one—but if it were not the boy how did he come to speak so continually of thee?’
‘And what said he?’ asked the lama eagerly.
‘Sweet words—an hundred thousand—that thou art his father and mother and such all. Pity that he does not take the Queen’s service. He is fearless.’
This news amazed the lama, who did not then know how religiously Kim kept to the contract made with Mahbub Ali and per-force ratified by