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hymns. This would not only usher in peace but also keep such spirits away. Like all others in the village, Parvati had equal faith in Buddhism and the Devta. Her parents were a mixed lot. Her grandmother was from Tibet and made everyone follow both religions. Parvati was her given name while a Lama christened her with a different name, one adopted from the Buddhist scriptures. Her name was difficult to pronounce and her parents called her Parvati after the name of the wife of Lord Shiva (the god of creation and destruction and lord of the animals). In the village, the names and surnames had nothing to do with family lines. The names could be anything; except for official purpose, everyone used the surname “Negi” to be identified with the tribal clan they belonged to.
    Shevak sat close to the fire and looked at his son. Diwakar sat in one corner with his cell phone.
    “There is no news of Chotu. I cannot get in touch with him. The fool has kept his phone switched off.”
    “But he should be in Peo.”
    “I checked with your Mamaji, and he said that he left a few days back for Solan.”
    “What is he doing in Solan?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t have any contacts there.”
    “Do you want me to call his friends?”
    “Why waste money on a fool?”
    Shevak was not in favor of Pravin finding any sort of employment outside his village. He was practical. He knew that he would not last long with his temper. But he also knew that the land he had was not good enough for two brothers. One of them had to leave to find work. He preferred that Diwakar be the traveler, not only because he was levelheaded, but also because he was sincere. “Tomorrow, collect the railway form from Dawa. Fill it out properly and give it back to him.”
    Dawa worked for the railways. He got his job under the tribal quota and was in good graces with his boss. He said that this year there was a good chance to get a few village boys in.
    “The exams are later this year. If you begin to prepare now it will not be difficult.”
    Diwakar nodded. He was worried for his aaté. He understood his brother to some extent. He knew that his efforts were focused on the wellbeing of the family. He silently prayed for his success.
    That night Diwakar had a dream. He dreamed of riding a horse with Nisha behind him. A white horse glided across the valleys in easy stride. And then it hit the river splashing water. Nisha had her arms around him in a strong hold. They crossed valleys and went far away, to a place no one had gone before. By evening, they reached a forest. The horse reached a stream and then it stopped. The place had trees with orange and yellow flowers. Birds and birdsong filled their senses. Both got down and drank water from the stream and then sat in a clearing. Darkness fell but soon the full moon was up. Nisha looked like a fairy in the silvery moonlight. He gathered some branches and lit a fire. Then they heard distant drums. Nisha got up and danced as if she were in a primitive trance. Diwakar sat near the fire and watched in wonder. And when she was tired, she came to him.
    He said, “You sleep now, while I keep watch.”
    Nisha sat on a rock next to him. Diwakar kissed her eyes and soon she was asleep.

Chapter 5
    It was the first day of Fulaich, the annual festival of flowers. The entire village was in a festive mood. Early in the morning, three boys selected by Devta left for the high peaks to collect rare flowers, the white brahma kamal and the blue larkspur. The festival would continue for three days.
    Boys and girls put on their best jackets with green topis decorated with small white flowers. Men dressed in traditional gray jackets and green topis roamed the village in high spirits, some already drunk while others were waiting to get drunk. Nearly every festival had a free flow of meat and liquor and most of the men drank to their hearts content, sometimes breaking down, sometimes fighting, sometimes simply crying aloud or