‘Good grief, is it safe?’ She glanced around as though looking for assailants hiding in the alleyways.
‘I’m sure it is,’ Eliza said. ‘Anyway, how are you, Dottie? I was sorry not to see you at thedurbar.’
‘I had one of my ghastly headaches. Julian gives me something but it just knocks me out.’ Dottie touched Eliza’s forearm and paused for a moment. ‘But seriously, traipsing about like this on your own …’
‘I’m with those two.’ She pointed at Indi and Kiri.
‘But I meant …’
‘I know what you meant, but I’m fine. Really.’
‘Would Clifford approve?’
‘Probably not. But look, why not come with us?’
Dottie smiled. ‘You know, I rather think I’d like to, but actually I’m with Julian. He’s looking for a chess set.’
‘Pity.’ Eliza took a step away and glanced across at Indi.
‘Another time maybe?’
Eliza nodded. ‘Sorry to dash, but I can’t hold them up any longer.’
‘Of course. See you soon?’
Eliza heard a pensive note in the woman’s voice and realized Dottie might be a bit lonely too. She would make an effort to call on her soon.
Dottie moved off and Eliza went back to the waiting girls.
When they finally arrived at the outskirts of the town they reached a river bank. It wasn’t particularly wide and certainly didn’t look very deep, but here it seemed less dusty than the main town had been and Eliza felt a certain freshness in the air. And then she saw that a small crowd had assembled to watch a puppet show.
‘We’re here for this?’
‘Sort of.’
The impressive sight of three-foot marionettes on a miniature stage, their heads carved out of hardwood and wearing elaborately made costumes, was like nothing Eliza had seen before. The semi-concealed puppeteer made sounds through what looked like bamboo to disguise his normal voice, and he moved the jointed limbs of the puppets by manipulating the strings attached to them. A woman next to him played the drum Eliza had been hearing.
‘It’s adholak, the drum,’ Indi said. ‘These stories are about destiny. And love, war and honour. You can ask Jay about that. He knows all about honour.’
Eliza wondered if there had been a hint of something in Indi’s voice but shrugged. She was probably imagining it.
‘These people are agricultural labourers from the Nagaur area, known by the name of thekathputliwalas. They usually perform the puppet shows during the late evenings, but this is different.’
Eliza listened as the puppeteer hooted and whistled and the story was narrated by a second woman while the first one continued to sing and beat on her drum.
‘We’re here for a funeral,’ Indi continued.
‘Whose?’
‘He’s lying over there.’
Though she had no desire to see a dead body, Eliza couldn’t help turning her head to look. She saw only Kiri, sitting on the ground beside another three-foot puppet lying on a bed of silk.
‘That puppet is old and too worn out to be used now.’
Eliza watched as the show came to an end. The puppeteer went across to Kiri and kissed the top of her head, then he picked up the old marionette and carried it lovingly to the water’s edge, where he began to pray. Eliza caught the scene on her camera and then, as his prayers continued, he placed the puppet on the water with Kiri’s help.
‘The longer it floats the more pleased the gods will be,’ Indi said.
