Like most proper English heiresses, Constance had been raised Church of England.She still attended services—if somewhat lackadaisically—but had always been fascinated by her grandmother’s Hindu faith.Padma had made a point of making sure that Constance had at least some understanding of this part of her religious heritage.
Her Aai’s quiet rituals were a world away from the celebration roaring below.Music came from everywhere, mingling with the sounds of mantras.The smell of spicy chaat and syrupy pastries wove together with the musk of incense and crushed flower petals in the air.
Constance wondered if she had ever seen anything quite so splendid in her life.
Adam waited on the pavement below them, tossing another snack to his worshipful dog.
Returning her attention to the crowd, Constance easily picked out the khaki-clad policemen.Several of them walked alongside the chariots to guard them from interlopers, while others patrolled various places along the broad street.
She traced the movement of those distinctive uniforms through the crowd like tracking ants across the lawn.
Her attention snagged on a storefront to her left.The painted sign above the entrance was faded with age.It readChemistin English, with the equivalent text in Odia script below.
Horses were tied in front of it in an area roped off from the crowd.A dozen or so policemen lingered nearby, smoking cigarettes.Others pushed out of the building as more moved to step inside.
“What about there?”She pointed out the place.
Neil leaned over the edge of the low wall to look—and Constance indulged in a frankly appreciative assessment of the lean lines of his figure through his tweed jacket.
And why shouldn’t she?She’d been born with eyes for a reason, and there was nothing wrong with the way Neil Fairfax had turned out.
“It looks promising,” Neil allowed.“But how can we be sure?”
Constance quickly schooled her features into an expression of placid innocence as he turned to address the question to her and Ellie.
“We get a bit closer, I suppose,” Ellie suggested.
They descended the ladder—a bit more awkwardly, as other festival goers had discovered the route and were using it to secure themselves a better view.Collecting Adam and his dog, they set out to forge their way across the road.
Constance sparkled with excitement, soaking up everything around her.Vendors sold silver earrings and colorful cotton saris.A group of devotees sang to the rattle of a tambourine.A frankly gorgeous fellow dressed as Shiva, complete with tiger skin and topknot, laughed beside a gray-bearded sadhu with dreadlocked hair and a saffron robe.
A rainbow of languages rang through the air.Constance recognized both English and Odia among them.The others she could only guess at—perhaps Hindi or Telugu.One intimidatingly tall fellow with a thick black beard, turban, and scimitar was probably shouting in Urdu.
Young men dashed past her, laughing as they kept pace with the towering chariot.Others raised their hands in worship as the god moved by.
Adam stopped just shy of the chemist’s shop, scanning the groups of loitering uniforms and patient horses.Constance craned her neck to look for the pale-eyed fellow from the photograph and failed utterly to see over the crowd.
Being short was dashed inconvenient at times.
Beside them, a makeshift stage had been erected at the side of the road.Neil stumbled back from a display of acrobatics by the foot of it as the actors stepped out from behind a curtain.
Ellie went oddly still as her attention locked on the performance.Her distant look gave Constance an itch of unease.
Adam noticed it as well.His eyes narrowed with concern and he put a hand to Ellie’s shoulder.“Hey, you all right?”
“What?”Ellie shook her head as though surfacing through deep water.
“You went over a bit funny there,” he elaborated patiently.
Ellie brushed off her skirt uncomfortably.“It’s… nothing.”
Adam clearly wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press.“I’ll take a closer look at that shop,” he declared instead and slipped into the crowd.
Constance looked to the stage to see what might have made Ellie go over so strangely.Familiar characters strode across the platform—a muscular warrior with long hair and the mala necklace of an ascetic.A fellow with stuffed cheeks and a pinned-on tail, carrying a mace.
An even more impressive actor held up a bow, a quiver of arrows hanging on his back.His skin was painted a distinct sky blue.
“Oh—it’s the Ramayana!”Constance exclaimed.She pointed at the familiar characters.“Lord Rama’s the blue one.And that’s Hanuman, his loyal monkey companion, with the tail.The skinnier fellow must be Rama’s brother, Lakshmana.”
