Durga and the Untouchable

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Padraic was overjoyed. He had somehow used his whiteness (or possibly his beard and lungi) to walk to the "VIP" area of Babu Ghat and view the returning of the victorious Durga to the elements. After being waved through by pretty, smiling, plump brown girls in police-training uniforms, he found himself at the end of the procession, watching the muddy Hoogli fill with man's physical depiction of the timeless triumph of good over evil. Hundreds of statues littered the riverbank a few dozen meters downstream.

The VIP area was populated by a few dozen media persons (both Indian and ferangi) with expensive ties and large cameras. Padraic stood near them, swaying in the sacred rhythms of a thousand drums and flowing water. He was watched with a mixture of indifference, curiosity, and vague suspicion by the other residents of the VIP area - eighty men in various uniforms with pistols and sub machine guns. Padraic thought about going to touch the heavily-polluted holy water. He didn't.

Colorful processions and the incessant percussion kept his mood good for the entire forty-five minute journey back to Esplanade.

Padraic ran into an acquaintance near New Market. He didn't know the man's name, but he spoke excellent English, especially for a ragpicker. He varied his approach to get Padraic's money - first he made a sign of the cross, then he tried an asalaam alaikum. Neither got him anything besides friendly smiles. This man had a shaved head, large eyes, dark skin, dirty sandals, and skinny limbs.

Skinnylimbs put down his bag with its good haul of plastic from the holiday street festivities, and took Padraic to a makeshift temple. He tried to make conversation while they admired Durga, but Skinnylimbs cut him off quickly. "Speak English. Don't speak Bengali."

Padraic was confused. They filed out of the temple to eat their free prasad - a small dish of curried chickpeas. Padraic ate his portion quickly. Skinnylimbs was a very slow eater.

A chubby, well-dressed, light-skinned kid with glasses, maybe fourteen years old saw Skinnylimbs and started yelling at him. Padraic couldn't understand the accusations, but Skinnylimbs looked scared, and said nothing. Padraic tried to calm an Indian dispute with the standard words, "Shanti shanti", but failed.

Over the course of ten seconds, a crowd of thirty surrounded Padraic, Skinnylimbs and Glasses. Most were listening, some had their own opinions to share. Glasses had another young friend on his side, but most people seemed to disagree with Glasses' anger. Padraic held his ground and tried to look tall and old. Finally, the loudest man (muscular, curly-haired twenty-something) took the side of Padraic and Skinnylimbs and quelled the rising tide of conflict with his decibels and his logic.

Glasses walked away angrily. Skinnylimbs asked Padraic for money. Padraic refused.

It took a few minutes for Padraic to realize the reason for Glasses' anger. When he did, a powerless rage boiled from his belly to his heart.

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