River of Ink by Paul M.M. Cooper

Author:Paul M.M. Cooper
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781408862230
Publisher: Bloomsbury
Published: 2015-10-20T15:13:00+00:00

When I returned home, I found the word ‘dog’ smeared in lentil broth on my gate, dripping down in great gobbets. This is it, I thought, panic rising. They’ve come for me. The peasants had finally come to punish me for my cowardice. I rushed inside, expecting to find my wife in tears, or hurt somehow by the thugs who had done this. The courtyard was empty, though, and as I dashed from room to room, I couldn’t find her anywhere. The cooking fires were cold, and the floor was unswept. I was convinced that she’d been kidnapped by whoever had smeared that word on my gate, that before long a message would come, demanding money. Then I realised the truth.

A little while later, I found the note.

‘You are a man at war with yourself,’ is all it said. ‘You have made me a fool and I despise you. I have taken the money in the calamander chest. These are the last words you will ever hear from the woman who was once your wife.’

At the time, I believed that Madhusha would return once her rage had burnt out. I went into the kitchen beneath the Persian lilac in the courtyard and quickly ate the remaining lentil broth clinging to the bottom of the iron pot. I thought about my wife crushing mosquito larvae with her feet, the one strong image that still remains of her.

I took my time over the last meal she’d ever cooked me, crunched the cumin seeds one by one, and ran my tongue along the day-old tamarind seeds, smooth as the smoothest tooth. Then I went up to my chamber and watched as evening settled over Polonnaruwa, and the buildings of the Sacred Quadrangle sprayed complex shadows across the rooftops. Now I was alone with the Vadha, open in front of me, flourishing its fine calligraphy, its glorious illuminations. I felt as though it were strapped around my neck.

I closed my eyes and tried to meditate. I tried to picture symmetrical gardens and clear days in the hills, a sea of milk perfectly still, with a lotus flower the size of a mountain rising from it. Myself perched on the tip of the flower, master of everything. I couldn’t keep my head clear for more than a moment. I thought that perhaps if I had been brought up to believe what the Kalingas believed, in giants and warrior gods and fighting heroes, then I wouldn’t be such a coward. This is when I had the idea of how to fulfil my promise to you.

It struck me suddenly, like the flash of a coloured bird in a canopy of trees, and as soon as it came to me, I threw down my bowl and went to the table to sharpen my stylus, smiling, my fingers shaking. I poured myself a small cup of arrack from a skin I bought in the market.

Magha’s gods. Rama, who had once come to Lanka to defeat the Demon King Ravana and win back his wife.

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