and the terror—not the innocence, not the tainted blood. He was not
the culprit. He was not responsible. He was not my murderer. Pulling
my hands away from his neck, he fell to the floor. I started to walk,
then run out of the room, and as I made my way out the door, I heard
Safora let out a sigh of relief, remarking:
“Well, Ifor one feel a whole lot better. How about you all?”
I was unable to feel anything, except the dull thud of the ground
beneath my boots as I ran down the hall, out the building, down the
path, out of the massive doors of the ashram only to finally emerge
onto the busy streets of Bombay with nowhere in this world left to go.
My world had finally been completely turned upside down, leaving
me nowhere to stand. Falling to the ground in my white robe, I curled
up into a ball and sobbed in the dirt. To lie before a crowd of people
in the throes of misery barely merited a second look in that town—I
was no different than any of the other millions of tragic figures crying
and begging for change on a busy afternoon in metropolitan India.
For perhaps the first time in my life, I was exactly where I should
have been. I had finally found my station in life.
Something metallic fell on the ground next to my head, and I
looked up to see what it was. Someone had tossed me a half a rupee.
BIG AMERICAN BREAKFAST
196
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