A Grave Betrayal: A Lady Evelyn Mystery by Malia Zaidi

Author:Malia Zaidi [Zaidi, Malia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2024-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

“Kanheri derives from the Sanskrit word Krishnagiri, meaning black mountain. As you can see, that name is fitting. These caves are part of the mountain,” Adesh, our guide explains as we approach the complex. Upon inquiring, Daniel was told that Rafiq was unavailable, which leaves me ever more curious. Daniel said the concierge looked mildly put out when the name was mentioned. Perhaps he has proven unreliable. The wages he earned as a guide for the guests of Bombay’s premier hotel could not be paltry, yet he is willing to do without? Or maybe he simply has other clients. I wonder whether he has made an appearance at the Gymkhana Club, or is he absent from his duties there as well? My mind races to tar him with suspicion, yet I remind myself, nodding along to Adesh’s commentary, there could be any number of innocent reasons for his absence. Any number...Then again, he could also have murdered Roger Quinn and done a runner. Everything is possible at this point, which is utterly maddening. I try to concentrate on sightseeing. The structures truly are quite impressive and different from the Elephanta Caves we toured with Rafiq. Adesh is an informative, but not engaging guide, going through perfunctory motions, spilling forth facts I cannot take in. He is a retired teacher, we were told, and certainly knowledgeable. Under different circumstances, he would do quite nicely, but as it stands, I cannot help letting my mind drift. I glance at Daniel, who appears interested enough, following Adesh’s pointed finger when he gestures at a stone plinth in the center of the first cave. There are an abundance of caves in the vicinity of Bombay, it cannot be denied.

“These caves are far less embellished than the Elephanta Caves but must be recognized for their historical value,” Adesh continues. “Historians have been able to discern that they date back to the first century BC. You see,” he indicates towards the walls, “the intricate inscriptions and reliefs?” Daniel and I nod dutifully. “They served as Buddhist monasteries and places for contemplation, worship and learning.”

“What is that?” Daniel asks, pointing at a domed structure at the end of the hall.

“Ah, yes, that is a stupa. Perhaps you can imagine it as something like a Christian altar. The chamber that contains the stupa is called a chaitya. A significant part of Buddhist meditation.” He continues to explain the various rituals associated with the stupa and I half listen, my eyes trawling the chamber, trying to imagine the people of centuries past, congregating, worshiping, seeking guidance and peace. There is a chill in the air, and I shiver, thinking of all those who passed through here, who are long gone, who know nothing of the world as it is now. Then again, Buddhists believe in the cycle of rebirth. Perhaps I am a former Buddhist monk! There is something appealing about the concept of rebirth, the past perpetually connected to the present and the future. Those who are gone, are not gone, but all are here, treading the same Earth as I am.

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