‘Only by sheer luck.’ She took his hands in hers. ‘Eddie, I’m just worried that if you carry on like you always have, and deliberately ignore the fact that it’s affected your hearing—’
‘I’m not bloody deaf, all right?’ he snapped. ‘That Pennywisetoothed little bastard got lucky, that’s all.’
‘Or you were unlucky,’ said Nina quietly. ‘And you only have to be unlucky once to . . .’ She couldn’t speak the terrible thought.
He squeezed her hands and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Well, at least it should be nice and quiet up in the mountains, right?’
21
‘So much for quiet,’ said Nina as she stepped off the bus . . . into a noisy crowd.
From what she had read, she had expected the Himalayan village of Gaurikund to be nothing more than a small pit stop on the way up to Kedarnath. But even with a covering of snow and a chill winter wind, the narrow streets of colourful, tight-packed and high-stacked buildings were bustling with activity.
‘They’re pilgrims,’ said Kit. ‘Kedarnath is closed in winter because of the weather - so the priests from the temple all move down to Gaurikund.’
‘They close the whole village?’ Eddie asked incredulously, hauling a large rucksack out of the bus. ‘Guess we’re not checking into a hotel once we’re up there, then.’
‘I’m afraid not. And we have to walk from here - this is as far as the road goes. It’s another fourteen kilometres to Kedarnath.’
Eddie looked up the valley. Though shrouded in grey clouds, the looming dark mass of Mount Kedarnath was still discernible, its highest peak over three miles above. ‘Nice weather for it.’
Nina was more interested in the people. They were of all ages, dressed in everything from utilitarian cold-weather clothing to layers of brightly coloured traditional Indian apparel to simple orange robes that seemed highly unsuited to the cold conditions. ‘They’re all here to pay homage to Shiva?’
‘Not all of them,’ Kit replied. ‘Gaurikund is a holy site for other gods as well. There is a hot spring where Shiva first told Parvati that he loved her - people come to bathe in it. It’s also where their son Ganesha was born.’
‘He’s the one with an elephant’s head, right?’ said Eddie. Kit nodded.
‘I’m impressed,’ said Nina. ‘How did you know that?’
‘It was in The Simpsons.’
‘Ah.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘The source of all modern knowledge.’
‘But did Bart and Homer explain why he has an elephant’s head?’ Kit asked Eddie with a smile, getting a negative response. ‘Parvati was bathing in the spring, and Ganesha was standing guard. Shiva arrived unexpectedly - he had been away for a long time, and didn’t recognise Ganesha as his son. Ganesha tried to stop him from seeing Parvati, so Shiva cut off his head.’
‘Whoa,’ said Eddie. ‘That’s a bit harsh.’
‘Parvati thought so too! She demanded that Shiva bring him back to life. But Shiva couldn’t find the head, so he took the head from an elephant and used that instead. That is one of the stories. As usual, there are many others.’
Eddie was puzzled. ‘If there’s so many different versions of every story, how do you decide which one to believe?’
‘You believe the one that you most believe in,’ said Kit with an amused shrug. ‘It must sound strange to westerners, but it has worked for us for thousands of years.’
‘It’s the version the Khoils believe that worries me,’ said Nina. She looked up at the brooding mountain. ‘How do we get to Kedarnath?’
‘There’s a path up the valley. I’ll ask someone how to get there.’ Kit stepped into the crowd, asked a man a question in Hindi - and got a look of utter disbelief in return. A second attempt earned him first a laugh, then an expression of concern, most likely for his sanity.
‘Okay,’ said Nina, pursing her lips. ‘Maybe it’s a harder journey than we thought.’
The sound of a scuffle made her turn. The pilgrims parted, backing away from an elderly man with a wild, almost dreadlocked mane of grey hair and a long beard, wearing nothing but an orange robe. He was dancing, sandalled feet skipping through the snow, and waving a gnarled stick at anyone who got too close.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Eddie. ‘He must be freezing!’
‘He’s a yogi,’ Nina realised. ‘A holy man. They give away all their possessions and travel through India in search of enlightenment.’
‘Maybe, but if I was him, I’d search for it somewhere warmer.’
The yogi continued his crazy little dance, the onlookers seeming caught between respect for him and annoyance at his antics. He laughed for no particular reason into a man’s face, then spotted Nina and Eddie. He tipped his head with a look of curious recognition and strode over to them.
‘Er . . . hello,’ said Nina, drawing back. Though she didn’t want to be uncharitable, the yogi would definitely benefit from a wash in the hot spring.
He fixed her with an intense gaze, foolish capering replaced by seriousness. ‘I know who you are, and why you are here,’ he said, his accent thick. ‘Nina Wilde.’
Nina was shocked. ‘How - how do you know my name?’
‘From here, I can watch the entire world,’ he intoned.
‘Is that a Hindu saying?’
‘No.’ A crazy smile split his face, and he jabbed his stick at a dish on a nearby building. ‘It just means we have satellite TV! Ha ha!’ He danced a brief jig, kicking up slush. ‘I saw you in Egypt, in the Sphinx. “What kept you?” Very funny!’ He laughed again - then before Nina could react he squeezed her breasts.
‘Oi!’ Eddie shouted, shoving him back. ‘Fuck off, Yoda!’ He raised a fist.
Kit hurried over. ‘Eddie, no!’ he cried, interposing himself between the giggling yogi and the aggrieved Englishman. ‘He’s a Pashupati Yogi.’
‘I don’t care if he’s Yogi fucking Bear!’ Eddie growled. ‘He just grabbed my wife’s tits - that gets you a smack in the mouth whoever you are.’
‘Eddie, it’s okay,’ said Nina, cheeks flushing. ‘No harm done, and . . . well, he’s obviously a little, uh . . .’ She tried to think of a non-offensive term. ‘Eccentric.’
The yogi cackled. ‘No, no. Rich people are eccentric. I am mad!’
‘He’s not mad,’ Kit said impatiently. ‘The Pashupatis are a sect of Shiva worshippers - sometimes called the Order of Lunatics. Some of them pretend to be mad to drive away people who want to associate with a holy man for their own personal gain.’ He turned to the old man. ‘Go on, be on your way.’
‘No, wait,’ said Nina. ‘He said he knows who we are—’
‘’Cause he saw you on TV,’ Eddie cut in.
‘—and why we’re here.’ She addressed the yogi. ‘Why are we here?’
‘You seek the Vault of Shiva, of course.’
The trio exchanged concerned looks. ‘How do you know that?’ Nina asked.
‘Why else would you be here? You are the famous Nina Wilde, you search for ancient legends and reveal them to the world. The other legends of this mountain, the pool of Parvati, the Shivalingam, they are all known. So you are looking for the one that is not.’
‘Nobody knows the legend of the Vault of Shiva,’ said Kit. ‘Dr Wilde only discovered it recently.’
The yogi was affronted. ‘I know it! So does everyone who lives here.’ He dropped his voice to a mock whisper. ‘But they will not tell anyone, because it is their great secret.’
‘So why’re you telling us?’ asked Eddie.
‘Because I am mad!’ He whooped, before becoming serious once more. ‘But you will not find it, Dr Wilde.’
‘You seem pretty certain of that,’ she said.