Free The Faith of Ashish by Kay Marshall Strom

in stony silence, so Virat and Latha climbed out of the cart. Latha put Ashish on his father's back, and, with smiles on their faces, they walked to their new home.
    "It is not wise to be outside the settlement in the dark," Anup called out as they passed by his hut. "Wild animals lurk beside the path. Not four days ago, a tiger got one of the master's goats."
    "We brought our son back," Virat said.
    Sethu hurried to the door to see. "Such a fine boy you have."
    "Tomorrow, you stay with your son," Anup said to Latha. "One day to get him settled is not too much to ask."
    Virat and Latha started to walk on, but Anup called them back. "Your food ration," he said as he handed them two sweet potatoes.
    "What are these?" Virat said. "This is not food. This is feed for animals. We need rice."
    Anup shook his head. "What Brahma has written, we must follow. The big man eats rice and butter every day. We work the fields and bring in a good harvest, but all we get is a potato. Brahma has written one kind of fate for us and another kind of fate for them. That is the way it is. No one can change it."
    Virat took the potatoes, but under his breath he murmured, "That tiger eats better than we do!"
     

     
    When Mammen Samuel Varghese reached his house, he immediately bellowed for Babu to bring him his wooden desk and leather-bound book of business accounts. He settled himself stiff and straight on the floor and thumbed through the accounting book until he found his latest entry: Virat. Mammen Samuel dipped his pen in the inkwell and—in his tight, cramped script—printed a new notation beside the name: Injured son treated at English Mission Medical Clinic. Journeyed to deposit the boy; journeyed to bring him back. Fresh sari, mundu, chaddar for the journey. He crossed out the amount of Virat's debt and doubled it. For several minutes Mammen Samuel sat and considered. Then he dipped his pen into the inkwell a second time, crossed out his changes, and doubled the debt again.

11
     
     
     
    Y ou will go to the fields today," Anup said to Latha. Every trace of friendliness had vanished from his face. "The master commands it. Do not ask again."
    "Only a few more days with my son," Latha pleaded. "Give me that and I will make no further request."
    "You will go this morning and you will not ask again. Master's son will be watching for you. If you are not there, I do not want to tell you the punishments that will rain down on you and your family."
    "But Ashish—"
    "Little Girl will look in on him."
    "Little Girl! But she is no older than he! What can she do?"
    "This is how it is. Come quickly, now. The laborers are ready to leave." Anup turned his back and walked away.
     

     
    Brahmin Keshavan, dressed in his most impressively embroidered mundu, walked the road to Mammen Samuel Varghese's home. The sacred thread of his caste, always over his left shoulder, glistened golden against the freshly oiled skin of his upper body. He did not pause at the entry steps to call out a greeting, but walked right up to Mammen Samuel's veranda. Mammen Samuel, bathed and oiled and smelling of sandalwood, sat crossed-legged on the most exquisite of his many fine carpets. Hand-carried all the way from Kashmir, he had chosen it for this day for the simple reason that its intricate patterns and vibrant colors proclaimed its lavish cost.
    Mammen Samuel nodded to the Brahmin and said, "You honor me with your visit. Please sit beside me."
    The landowner said these kind words, but he did not stand up to greet the revered Brahmin. Keshavan chose to ignore the slight. Brahmin Keshavan folded his long, thin legs and settled himself across from Mammen Samuel in the shade of the fragrant jasmine vine. He was older than his host, but not by a great deal. At forty-one and forty-nine, both men were considered advanced in years. Yet while the Brahmin's hair displayed a generous splash of gray, his skin remained smooth and light—the skin of youth—or perhaps simply of one