Free The Splendor Of Silence by Indu Sundaresan Page A

The boys were not awake yet; Ashok would get up soon, for his tutor came in at nine; Kiran was rarely a presence in the house before noon.
    At the thought of his eldest son, Raman began to fret mildly, and then pushed away the worry. This was his time for solitude and calm, the rest of the day would churn out in all directions and fritter away any quiet he might have. Like his daughter, Raman also had demands on his time and his energies all through the day, and yet, because he was a man, he had more freedom.
    His coffee cooled. Sayyid, standing behind his master's chair, took away the cup and saucer and filled a new cup with some more coffee from a steel jug that sat among the glowing embers of coal in a brazier. Raman liked his coffee hot, not just hot, but boiling hot, so his tongue was scalded each time he drank. That meant every sip had to come as though directly from the stove. In the early days, he would invade the kitchen quarters behind the house, and drink his coffee leaning over a blazing mud Chula, setting down his steel rumbler over the fire between sips. The servants chattered in protest to Lakshmi at this irregularity. Every stove was needed; there was water and milk to boil, coffee to make, tea kept ready if wanted, spices to roast. Besides, Raman's being in the smoke-blackened rooms threw them into a frozen silence, with hands suspended over chopping and cleaning and cutting until he left, because the sahib had no place in the kitchen, and they did not quite know how to get on with their duties while he was there.
    So Lakshmi, knowing Raman would not change his ways, ordered a brazier from the bazaar and came up with the idea of the live coals, the steel jug, the ten empty cups filled just before Raman wanted a sip.
    Raman was on his third cup when he heard the banging on the front door. "See who it is, Sayyid," he said.
    "Yes, Sahib." Sayyid bowed and went downstairs. He came back in a few minutes and said, "An American sahib wishes to see you, Sahib." "This early? Tell him to come back at nine o'clock; I will be in the office then."
    "Yes, Sahib." Another bow, another retreat, and then Sayyid came back again. "He says it is not official business, he must speak with you, and now."
    Raman sighed. He had learned to guard this half hour in the morning with a lover's jealousy, as he had learned, over the years, to guard his nightly sleep, and he gave up either only for Jai and for no one else. Jai was demanding enough as it was, the others came during office hours, or dragged him from bed only for absolute emergencies. He considered insisting that the man wait, but relinquished that thought almost as soon as it came to mind, for Raman could deny almost no one. It was a weakness in one so often petitioned, he knew, but so carefully ingrained in his character, he realized it and did not any longer fight it. Raman also considered putting on a shirt, rubbing a hand over the hair on his chest, but this h e w as able to resist--if the American wanted to see him outside of his office hours, he would have to take him as he was. He told Sayyid to bring the man up.
    When Sam came into the verandah, Raman rose from his armchair and offered him his hand.
    "Good morning," he said. The other man's shake was tentative. But why? He had come seeking him, to his house. Sam recovered himself soon enough and his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled.
    "Good morning. Sam Hawthorne I was told to come to the political agent's home in Rudrakot. Colonel Eden's orders."
    "I see," Raman said. "Won't you sit? Sayyid, some coffee for the gentleman. Or ..." He looked at Sam. "Would you prefer tea?"
    "Coffee's fine, thank you."
    "What can I do for you, Mr. Hawthorne?" Raman asked.
    "Actually, it's Captain Hawthorne. Third Burma Rangers, U . S . Army," Sam said, accepting a cup from Sayyid and nodding his thanks. "I was hoping to talk with the political agent."
    "Ah," Raman said. He sat back to look upon the young man in front of him who