The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [318]
Ash's interview with Kaka-ji had been a much quieter affair. The old man had originally declared that he would of course accompany his nephew back to Karidkote, but Mulraj had managed to persuade him that his nieces must now be in sore need of his comfort and support, owing to the news of their elder brother's death, and when Ash, more bluntly, pointed out that his presence could only serve to slow down the speed of the return journey, Kaka-ji had given way and agreed (not without relief) to remain in Bhithor with the rest of the bridal camp until the monsoon broke. Later the two had spoken together alone when Ash came to say farewell before the advance party left.
‘I have to thank you for many things, Rao-Sahib,’ said Ash. ‘For your friendship and understanding, but most of all for your great generosity. I know very well that you could have destroyed me with a word; and… and her also. Yet you did not, and for that I shall always be in your debt. If there should ever be anything that I can do to repay you, I will do it.’
Kaka-ji made a small deprecating gesture, and Ash laughed and said: ‘That must sound like an empty boast, since at the moment I am not in a position to help anyone; as no one knows better than yourself, Rao-Sahib. Even my rank is only lent me because while I am here I represent the Raj, and as soon as my mission is completed I shall become a junior officer again, and of no importance to anyone. But I hope one day to be in a position to help my friends and repay my debts, and when that day comes –’
‘Mother Gunga will long since have had my ashes,’ finished Kaka-ji, smiling. ‘You owe me nothing, my son. You have been courteous to an old man and I have taken pleasure in your company. Also it is we who are doubly in your debt: for saving my nieces from the river and also for saving their marriages; together with our honour which would have been lost had we been forced to return with them, empty-handed, to Karidkote. As for that other matter, I have put it out of my mind: and you, my son, would be well advised to do likewise.’
Ash's mouth quivered and the look on his face said all that he did not put into words. Kaka-ji replied to it as though he had spoken:
‘I know. I know,’ sighed Kaka-ji. ‘Who should know better than I? But it is because I speak with a knowledge that was gained by my own mistakes that I can say to you now, ‘Do not look back.’ The past is the last refuge of the defeated – or the aged – and there is as yet no need for you to number yourself among either. Tell yourself that what is done is done, and put it away and forget it. Do not let yourself remember and try to live on memories. That is well enough for old men who have had their day, but it is bitter fare for the young. So be advised by me, my son, and look forward and not back, remembering always that life is a gift from the gods and therefore not a thing to be despised or wasted. Live it to the full: that is the best advice that I, who did not do so, can give you.’
‘I will try, Rao-Sahib,’ promised Ash. ‘And now I must go. Will you give me your blessing?’
‘Assuredly; though I fear it is of little worth. Yet for what it is, you have it. I will also make prayers to the gods that they grant you a safe and swift journey to Karidkote, and a quiet heart and happiness in the years to come. I will not say goodbye for it is my hope that we will meet again: many times, I trust.’
‘I too,’ said Ash. ‘Will you come and visit me in Mardan, Rao-Sahib?’
‘No, no. I have had my fill of journeying, and once I win home I shall not leave it again. But Jhoti I know has taken a great liking to you, and now that he is Maharajah he will certainly wish you to visit him. We shall surely see you in Karidkote.’
Ash did not contradict this statement, though he knew in his heart that he had no desire to set foot there again, and