the smoke, and tried to fix the man's eyes. Then he spoke, in a voice
he hoped would carry to all the waiting crowd.
"Tell him his Brahmin astrologers know not the truth, neither past nor
future." Hawksworth forced himself to still the tremble in his voice.
"There will be no eclipse tomorrow. His Brahmins, who cannot foretell
the great events in the heavens, should have no right to work their
will on earth."
"Have you gone mad?" Vasant Rao turned and glared at him as he spat the
words in disgust. "Why not try to die with dignity."
"Tell him."
Vasant Rao stared at Hawksworth in dumb amazement. "Do you think we're
all fools. The eclipse is foretold in the Panjika. It is the sacred
book of the Brahmins. It's used to pick auspicious days for ceremonies,
for weddings, for planting crops. Eclipses are predicted many years
ahead in the Panjika. They have been forecast in India for centuries.
Don't Europeans know an eclipse is a meeting of the sun and moon?
Nothing can change that."
"Tell him what I said. Exactly."
Vasant Rao hesitated for a few moments and then reluctantly translated.
The Rajput chieftain's face did not change and his reply was curt.
Vasant Rao turned to Hawksworth. "He says you are a fool as well as an
Untouchable."
"Tell him that if I am to die with the sun, he must kill me now. I spit
on his Brahmins and their Panjika. I say the eclipse will be this very
day. In less than three hours."
"In one _pahar_?
"Yes."
"No god, and certainly no man, can control such things. Why tell him
this invention?" Vasant Rao's voice rose with his anger. "When this
thing does not happen, you will die in even greater dishonor."
"Tell him."
Vasant Rao again translated, his voice hesitant. Raj Singh examined
Hawksworth skeptically. Then he turned and spoke to one of the tall
Rajputs standing nearby, who walked to the end of the porch and
summoned several Brahmin priests. After a conference marked by much
angry shouting and gesturing, one of the Brahmins turned and left.
Moments later he reappeared carrying a book.
"They have consulted the Panjika again." Vasant Rao pointed toward the
book as one of the Brahmins directed a stream of language at Raj Singh.
"He says there is no mistaking the date of the eclipse, and the time.
It is in the lunar month of Asvina, which is your September-October.
Here in the Deccan the month begins and ends with the full moon. The
_tithi_ or lunar day of the eclipse begins tomorrow."
As Hawksworth listened, he felt his heart begin to race.
The calculations at the observatory had a lot to say about your
Panjika's lunar calendar. And they showed how unwieldy it is compared
to the solar calendar the Arabs and Europeans use. A cycle of the moon
doesn't divide evenly into the days in a year. So your astrologers have
to keep adding and subtracting days and months to keep years the same
length. It's almost impossible to relate a lunar calendar accurately to
a solar year. Jamshid Beg, the astronomer from Samarkand, loved to
check out the predictions in the Hindu Panjika.
If I deciphered his calculations right, this is one eclipse the Panjika
called wrong. The astrologer must have miscopied his calculations. Or
maybe he just bungled one of the main rules of lunar bookkeeping. Solar
days begin at sunrise, but lunar days are different. The moon can rise
at any time of day. According to the system, the lunar day current at
sunrise is supposed to be the day that's counted. But if the moon rises
just after sunrise, and sets before sunrise the next day, then that
whole lunar "day" has to be dropped from the count.
Today was one of those days. It should have been dropped from the lunar
calendar, but it wasn't. So the prediction in the Panjika is a day off.
According to Jamshid Beg's calculations, at least. God help me if he
was wrong.
"Tell him his Panjika is false. If I'm to be killed the day of
the eclipse, he must kill me now, today."
Raj Singh listened with increasing disquiet as Vasant Rao
translated. He glanced nervously at the Brahmins and then replied in a
low voice.
Vasant Rao turned to Hawksworth. "He asks what proof you have of
your forecast?"
Hawksworth looked around. What proof could there be of an
impending eclipse?
"My word is my word."
Another exchange followed.
"He is most doubtful you are wiser than the Panjika." Vasant Rao
paused for a moment, then continued. "I am doubtful as well. He says
that if you have invented a lie you are very foolish. And we will all
soon know."
"Tell him he can believe as he chooses. The eclipse will be
today."
Again there was an exchange. Then Vasant Rao turned to
Hawksworth, a mystified expression on his face.
"He says if what you say is true, then you are an _avatar_, the
incarnation of a god. If the eclipse is today, as you say, then the
village must begin to prepare immediately. People must all move
indoors. Once more, is what you say true?"
"It's true." Hawksworth strained to keep his voice confident,
and his eyes on the Rajput chieftain as he spoke. "It doesn't matter
whether he believes or not."
Raj Singh consulted again with the Brahmin priests, who had now
gathered around. They shifted nervously, and several spat to emphasize
their skepticism. Then the Rajput leader returned and spoke again to
Vasant Rao.
"He says that he will take the precaution of ordering the high
castes indoors. If what you say comes to pass, then you have saved the
village from a great harm."
Hawksworth started to speak but Vasant Rao silenced him with a
gesture.
"He also says that if what you say is a lie, he will not wait
until tomorrow to kill you. You will be buried alive at sunset today,
up to the throat. Then you will be stoned to death by the women and
children of the village. It is the death of criminal Untouchables."
As the smoke from the funeral pyre continued to drift through the
village, the high-caste men and women entered their homes and sealed
their doors. Women took their babies in their laps and began their
prayers. Only low castes and children too young to wear the sacred
thread remained outside. Even Vasant Rao was allowed to return to the
room where they had been held prisoner. Hawksworth suddenly found
himself without guards, and he wandered back to the square to look once
more at the pit where the funeral pyre had been. All that remained of
the bodies were charred skeletons.
An hour ago there was life. Now there's death. The difference is the
will to live.
And luck. The turn of chance.
Was Jamshid Beg right? If not, God help me . . .
He knelt down beside the pit. To look at death and to wait.