Chapter 6: The City on the Ganges (India)

Varanasi greeted John with a chaos of sounds and smells that hit him the moment he stepped off the plane onto the scorching tarmac of Lal Bahadur Shastri Airport. The hum of the crowd, the sharp cries of street vendors, the aroma of spices mingled with the scent of burning wood and river dampness — it was all so far from gray London that John felt lost in another world. He stood at the airport exit, clutching his suitcase and the folder of his grandfather’s notes, trying to take a deep breath to calm his racing pulse. But Varanasi offered no respite — the city buzzed, breathed, lived to its own rhythm, like a vast organism that didn’t notice the outsider.

A battered old taxi carried him through narrow streets to the guesthouse Kate had booked before his departure. John stared out the window, where colorful saris, bicycles weaving between cows, and walls covered in faded posters flashed by. His thoughts kept drifting back to London — Kate, her warm hands, her shame as she fled the office; Lucy, her painful words and the scent of her perfume that still haunted him. A pang of guilt struck him as he recalled how Lucy’s image had stopped him in that moment with Kate. Why did she have such power over him? And why couldn’t he shake the feeling that she was hiding something?

A week ago, his life had been far gloomier and emptier of events. Nothing new or exciting had happened.
If only Kate had made a move sooner… Perhaps there wouldn’t have been that dinner with Lucy.
Perhaps he wouldn’t be driving into the unknown through the streets of a completely foreign country now.

The guesthouse was cramped but cozy, with a view of the Ganges glimmering under the evening sun.
He needed to distract himself, to somehow shake off the thoughts and images of the women who were both so close and so far from him.
John tossed his suitcase onto the bed and opened the folder. The photograph of Shri Devi lay on top, her eyes gazing at him with that same piercing expression. “Shri Devi is waiting,” Ajay Rathod had written in his 1964 letter. But was she still alive? And what did she know about his grandfather’s project? John felt his heart tighten with anticipation. Varanasi seemed like a city where time had stopped, and he couldn’t shake the thought that somewhere in its labyrinth of streets, the truth was hiding.

The next morning, he set out for the university where, according to Kate’s information, Ajay Rathod still gave lectures. Varanasi’s streets were teeming: pilgrims in orange robes, barefoot children running about, and elders sitting by temples, whispering prayers. John felt like an outsider, yet he was captivated.

New sights, new information — always a great way to clear the mind and distract oneself.
John caught himself thinking he should call Kate to let her know he’d arrived safely, but truthfully, guilt still gnawed at him.
Even if he hadn’t wanted to tarnish her angelic body and soul with his pitifully dirty hands, he could’ve handled it differently.

But it seemed Kate had a bit more resolve, as if sensing his hesitation, she decided to call him herself.

“Yeah. Hello…” John sounded utterly uncertain.
“Are you at the hotel?” Kate’s voice was heavy with dejection, even more uncertain than his.
“Yeah… The flight was fine. The city’s been welcoming. But everything’s so unfamiliar here.”
“About that…”
“Yeah, I wanted to apologize too!” John seized Kate’s pause to take the lead. “Everything that happened… I shouldn’t have acted like that. Forgive me, Kate!”

“No, John… It was my fault.”
“No, I shouldn’t have been so abrupt, and honestly, I was so confused.”
“Don’t worry, John!” Kate’s voice suddenly became strikingly confident. Though it still trembled, in that moment she resembled a bold warrior holding the fate of the world in her hands, not a frightened rabbit. “I went too far. You know, if I wanted to tell you about my feelings, I should’ve done it differently. Better. So…”
“Let’s talk when I get back. Not at the publishing house. Somewhere proper.”
“And what about Lucy? You two…”
“She’s my ex, Kate. But… she has nothing to do with us.”
“Are you sure?” Kate’s voice softened again, tender as it had been that night.
“I’m sure.”

The air smelled of sandalwood and smoke, and the Ganges, visible in the distance, beckoned with its serene majesty. He paused at one of the ghats — stone steps descending to the water — and watched as people performed rituals, immersing themselves in the river. Some prayed, some sang, and others simply sat, gazing at the water as if it could answer all their questions.

The university was an old building with faded walls, tucked away in a quiet alley. John entered the lecture hall where Ajay Rathod, a frail man with a gray beard and deep wrinkles, was concluding a talk on tantric traditions. His voice was low but powerful, and the students listened, holding their breath. John stood by the door, feeling Ajay’s words about “the union of souls through rituals” echo his grandfather’s notes.
It was a miracle, really, that he’d found him so easily. As if it was meant to be…
After the lecture, he mustered the courage to introduce himself to the old professor.

“Mr. Rathod,” John began, clutching the folder. “I’m John Coplestone. Edward Coplestone’s grandson.”

Ajay looked up, his eyes narrowing as if trying to recall something distant. Then a faint smile lit up his face.

“Edward…” he said softly. “I knew one day someone from his family would come.” His voice was soothing, as if he knew John’s fate — no, the fate of the entire world for millennia ahead. “Come, we should talk in private.”

They walked to the back of the hall and sat in Ajay’s small office, cluttered with books and manuscripts. Despite the mess, the room was warm and atmospheric.
The old man poured fragrant, slightly bitter tea and gestured for John to sit. His gaze was attentive but cautious.

“Your grandfather was a brave man, and he spoke of you,” Ajay began, his voice quiet but weighty. “But he went too far. Shri Devi warned him that tantric knowledge isn’t for everyone. It opens doors that cannot always be closed. You know this, don’t you, since you’re here?”

John felt a chill run down his spine. He pulled out the photograph of Shri Devi and placed it on the table.

“Who was she?” he asked directly. “And why did my grandfather stop?”

Ajay stared at the photograph for a long time, his fingers trembling as he touched its edge.

“Shri Devi was a priestess,” he said at last. “Not just a priestess, but a keeper of knowledge. She knew the secrets of tantra that go beyond the physical — rituals that unite the soul with the divine. Your grandfather wanted to write a book about it, but…” He paused, his gaze darkening. “There are people who don’t want this knowledge to become public.”

“What people?” John leaned forward, his voice tense.

Ajay shook his head.

“I don’t know their names. But they were watching Edward. And perhaps they’re watching you now.”

John’s throat went dry. He recalled the letter warning his grandfather to stop and Lucy’s words about dangerous research. Could she be connected to these people? Or Kate, who had found information about Ajay so quickly? His thoughts tangled, but he forced himself to focus.

“Is Shri Devi still alive?” he asked.

Ajay sighed.

“No. She passed away many years ago. But her legacy lives on. There’s a temple near the ghats where her disciple, Nalini, continues her work. If you want answers, seek her out.”

“How dangerous is this?”
“It depends on what you mean by danger. Even now, are we in danger?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the ceiling will fall on our heads?”
“Yes, or maybe it won’t. That ‘maybe’ is the whole point. Something might happen, or it might not. But what’s better for you? What can you live with, and what can’t you?”
“Good question…”
“A good question holds all the answers, young man. Your grandfather knew that and made his choice. Now it’s your turn. Watching time pass, I’ve come to one conclusion… Now, when my body is too weak and my mind barely clings to my soul, I realize the most important thing is to seize the moment in the moment. So you don’t regret it later.”
“….”
“Because you can accept and make peace with anything. But not regretting the days that have left us forever — only their shadows flicker on the walls of the cave of our soul.”

John nodded, his heart pounding. Nalini. A new lead, a new mystery. He thanked Ajay and left the university, his thoughts chaotic. Varanasi enveloped him with its warmth and noise, but now he sensed something darker in the city — a secret that had frightened his grandfather.

That evening, he stood on the ghats, gazing at the Ganges reflecting the lights of ritual lamps. Women in saris chanted mantras, and the smoke of incense rose to the sky. John’s thoughts drifted back to Lucy and Kate. Their faces, their touches, their words intertwined in his mind like the river flowing before him. But behind them stood the image of Shri Devi — and now Nalini, whose knowledge might hold the key to everything.

He pulled the photograph of Shri Devi from his pocket and looked at her eyes once more. They seemed alive, as if whispering to him: “Are you ready?” John didn’t know the answer, but he felt he could no longer turn back. Tomorrow, he would go to the temple, find Nalini, and uncover what his grandfather had hidden — and what awaited him in this city of secrets.