Looking back, I can see that something powerful occurred in that moment, and it still astonishes me all these years later: Bashir Ahmed understood in about five minutes what took my father decades. And me? What did I understand back then? Nothing, except that when my mother laughed like that, it made me want a million things at once. I wanted to run until I dropped; I wanted to roll on the ground; I wanted to climb into her lap and stay there forever.
바카라Where do you live?바카라 she asked him.
바카라Me? I have a room near Russell Market.바카라
바카라No, I meant originally. In Kashmir. That바카라s where you바카라re from, isn바카라t it?바카라
바카라Oh, a small village. In the mountains. You wouldn바카라t have heard of it.바카라 He grinned wickedly. 바카라You people in India, you think Kashmir begins and ends with Srinagar.바카라
바카라Is it beautiful there?바카라 바카라In my village? Why don바카라t you come and see for yourself? Oh, but I forget,바카라 and he pointed mischievously to his green eyes, 바카라you바카라re a little blind. How sad. Actually, it바카라s probably better if you don바카라t come. You will look at the Himalayas and say, 바카라But where are the mountains?바카라바카라
바카라Maybe I will come,바카라 my mother declared, shaking her finger at him. 바카라One of these days, you바카라ll open the door and I바카라ll be standing there. Then what will you do, Mr. Bashir Ahmed?바카라
바카라I will ask, 바카라Do you want tea or coffee, madam, or are you on a diet?바카라바카라 They laughed. I found that I was also grinning, though I didn바카라t fully grasp the joke. All I knew was that there was a lovely hysteria in the air, and I wanted to inhale it deep, deep into my lungs. The fog that had obscured my mother for days suddenly seemed thinner. I could see her more clearly, hear the clarity and confidence in her voice.
바카라And what about you, beti?바카라 Bashir Ahmed turned to me, smiling. 바카라Are you coming too?바카라
바카라Yes,바카라 I answered promptly. 바카라I am.바카라
바카라Good!바카라 he said, slapping his thigh with a large palm. 바카라My son will enjoy meeting you.바카라
At that, my mother바카라s smile flickered. He noticed it right away and his own mouth became a tight line. In the few seconds of silence that followed, I heard the loud ticking of the clock on top of the TV. I looked from one to the other. Then Bashir Ahmed cleared his throat.
바카라Beti,바카라 he said quickly, 바카라would you like to hear a story?바카라
I glanced at my mother, but she was unreachable now, offering no clue. It was the single most devastating habit she had, to withdraw, to take back the thrilling gift of her joy as casually as she bestowed it. I바카라d always believed that I was the only one in the world who saw it as clearly as I did, her lightning switch from one self to another. But one look at this stranger바카라s face told me he understood it, too, and it gave me an odd and unexpected comfort.
바카라Yes,바카라 I said. 바카라I would.바카라
바카라All right,바카라 Bashir Ahmed said, nodding. 바카라Then listen.바카라 His chin dropped so low it nearly touched his chest, and he took several deep breaths. His eyelids fluttered almost closed. His hands came to rest in his lap. Over the years, I would become familiar with his tactics: the long pause at the beginning, the swift rise of his deep voice followed by the precipitous drop, his trick of repeating innocuous phrases until they turned ominous. 바카라In Kashmir, a long time ago,바카라 he said, 바카라there lived an old man. Because he had come from the city of Baghdad, in Iraq, people called him Shah Baghdadi. This old man, he was a pir. Do you know what that is, beti? A pir?바카라
I shook my head.
바카라A wise man,바카라 Bashir Ahmed said solemnly. 바카라This Shah Baghdadi had read many books, and he knew a lot about the world. He could even perform magic. People who were sick would go to him, and he would heal them. But he was very careful with his powers, you see, because he knew that they were gifts from Allah.바카라
From the corner of my eye, I could see my mother바카라s head turn slightly.
바카라Now what I forgot to tell you, beti,바카라 Bashir Ahmed went on slowly, 바카라was that Shah Baghdadi had a son. A son,바카라 he said again, and I felt a chill run up my arms. 바카라A son who was born when Shah Baghdadi was already old, and whose mother had died. His father loved him very much, but from the beginning, the boy only knew how to break his heart. And, to make things worse, it became clear that he also had his father바카라s powers. Shah Baghdadi tried to make him study, begged his son to understand that such powers should not be taken lightly, but the boy did not listen. When he was ten years old, he asked for a horse. Shah Baghdadi refused, so the boy became angry. He jumped up onto a wall, turned the wall into a beautiful black horse, and rode away.바카라
My mother was listening, leaning forward now, but Bashir Ahmed바카라s eyes did not so much as flicker in her direction. He spoke to me, as though everyone but the two of us had ceased to exist.
*Excerpted from Madhuri Vijay바카라s The Far Field with permission from HarperCollins India*
