What Maya Saw Page 13

  Could be. Could just be the Seven Virtues.

  The sun had started climbing fast, and the unforgiving glare was making it difficult to see the details. Maya was just about to retreat when she spotted the clincher. The sixth gargoyle was holding a lamp. Just like Hope on the chapel screen.

  There was no doubt. The Seven Deadly Sins and Seven Heavenly Virtues on the wooden screen corresponded with the gargoyles in the quadrangle of St Paul’s. This could mean nothing … or everything.

  Maya retreated to a shady corner of the empty quadrangle and soaked in its tranquility for a moment. It was difficult to imagine that so much blood had been spilt in this peaceful space.

  Wagle. The chowkidar. Father Lorenzo.

  What had Father Lorenzo been doing on the roof in the middle of a storm anyway? Could he have been hiding something in one of the gargoyles? Had he been pushed or had he fallen from his slippery perch?

  Suddenly she felt alone and exposed – and was relieved when her phone rang.

  ‘Where are you?’ Veda demanded.

  ‘In the quadrangle at St Paul’s,’ Maya replied. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’ve been reading you know what. And there are a few of interesting things in there.’

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you too.’

  ‘Not now,’ Veda said tersely. ‘I’ll be there in 10 minutes.’

  ‘Surely you don’t think your phone is bugged!’ Maya giggled. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Ten minutes,’ Veda replied and disconnected the call.

  True to her word, 10 minutes later, Veda hurried into the quadrangle in a flurry of parrot green that did nothing for Maya’s migraine. By contrast, Veda’s face was tired and her eyes looked heavy.

  ‘You okay?’ Maya asked. ‘You look zonked.’

  Veda managed a grim smile. ‘Pot calling the kettle black,’ she said. ‘Actually, I wasn’t able to sleep, thinking about Aadil. We’ve been friends since we were six. So I just can’t believe that he would side with that Minty creature over me.’

  ‘Anyway, back to the point. The diary is very difficult to read. The ink has faded, the paper is yellowish and the writing is very small.’

  ‘Oh. So you didn’t find anything?’

  ‘Did I say that?’ Veda asked. ‘I found some interesting details. But it’s all going very slow.’

  ‘Tell me quick,’ Maya begged. ‘What did you find?’

  ‘Three things,’ Veda said, looking around to make sure they were alone. ‘On the very first page, Father Lorenzo has written Hic iacet lepus. It’s a Latin phrase. Do you know what it means?’

  ‘No Veda,’ Maya said, rolling her eyes. ‘They don’t teach Latin at Model Girl’s School.’

  Sarcasm rolled off Veda like water off the proverbial duck’s back.

  ‘It means “Here lies the solution”,’ she said in a triumphant whisper. ‘Now why would a priest who’s keeping a diary about the planning and construction of a college start with those words. Unless …’

  ‘Unless…’ Maya exclaimed, almost jumping with excitement. A couple of Summer School students munching doughnuts under a distant arch looked up. So did the blond professor, striding across the quadrangle with an oversized backpack and camera.

  Veda glared at Maya. ‘Please. Don’t attract attention. We should try and meet Professor Kekobad before class. So please listen. The diary is divided into many sections. There are descriptions about staircases, arches, rooms, everything. I went straight to the bit about the chapel. There was a section on the stained-glass windows. He mentions the windows. But then he writes, “Those seeking answers must meditate on the words.’”

  ‘Each window has a Latin inscription. Maybe they’ll tell us something,’ Maya said, feeling flat. These were hardly earthshaking discoveries. Surely Father Lorenzo’s journal held greater secrets than this.

  Veda, though, was not done. She fished out a palm-sized pad and found the right page. ‘He also describes the wooden screen with the seven sins and virtues. Then he writes something strange. He writes, “Vice and virtue are universal. Step outside this House of God, raise your eyes and comprehend their shame and glory. Banish sin. Seek the virtue that illuminates our life.”’

  Maya clapped her hand on her mouth. ‘OMG OMG OMG. I know exactly what he means. Come on. Do exactly what he says. Raise your eyes and tell me what you see?’

  ‘Stop talking like a Barbie with a lobotomy. I’m not in the mood,’ Veda muttered.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Maya said, and began describing her discovery of the morning. ‘I think he hid the key in one of the gargoyles,’ she concluded. ‘But which one? I doubt he’d hide it in one of the sins. In fact, doesn’t he tell us to banish sin? So probably in one of the virtues.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘In his place, which one would you choose?’

  Veda thought about it for a moment. ‘Possibly Fortitude. Or Hope. Or Prudence maybe.’

  Maya nodded. ‘I was unsure too, till you read that bit from the diary about “Seek the virtue that illuminates our life”. But now I think it’s pretty obvious.’

  Veda squinted into the sunlight. ‘Hope is carrying a lamp,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Hope illuminates our life. It makes perfect sense. That’s quite clever of you, Maya.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Maya said, shading her eyes and staring at Hope holding aloft a stone lamp. ‘But getting there and testing our theory won’t be easy.’

  CHAPTER 20

  Not even in her worst nightmares had Maya dreamt that she would be the one crawling on the treacherous roof of St Paul’s College, getting intimately acquainted with a bunch of contorted gargoyles. But half an hour later, that’s precisely where she found herself.

  It had all happened so fast that she hadn’t even had a chance to protest. Professor Kekobad had heard their story without interruption before remarking, ‘Complicated logic. But then, Father Lorenzo was a complicated man.’

  ‘Can somebody go on the roof and check the gargoyle?’ Veda asked.

  ‘You can go,’ the professor said. ‘It’s straightforward. Do you know the staircase behind the chapel? It is used to reach the chapel bells and gargoyles. The gargoyles are actually spouts that drain rainwater away from the roof and the building. They are cleaned every monsoon. So climbing up is a routine business.’

  Maya hated heights and even avoided the balcony at home. But before she could interject, the professor was already on the phone, summoning somebody called Brother Francis.

  Minutes later, Brother Francis arrived. He was a squat man who walked with a pronounced limp and looked as if he’d been fashioned out of square wooden blocks. He examined Maya with impolite interest, and she squirmed and wished that her t-shirt were baggier.

  ‘Brother Francis, these students need to take some photographs from the roof,’ Professor Kekobad instructed. ‘They will be there for about 15 minutes. Please open the door to the staircase and show them the way.’

  Brother Francis looked mutinous – or as mutinous as a block of wood can look. ‘I cannot climb. My knees are giving trouble. All the time it is, “Brother Francis do this.” And “Brother Francis open the herbarium.” And “Brother Francis, where is the bell tower?” Am I the only person in this college, or what?’

  Professor Kekobad ignored the grumbles. ‘Just open the door to the staircase. You can wait downstairs till they are done. Be careful though that no unauthorised student uses the staircase while they are upstairs.’

  ‘So now I’m a security guard on top of everything else,’ Brother Francis humphed and stomped to the door. ‘I can’t promise. If the principal calls me, or some fancy foreigner comes from Germany and needs help, I will have to leave.’

  Brother Francis limped away and the girls trailed after him. He stopped at a small door behind the chapel, fished out a jangling bunch of keys and tugged open the door to reveal the most uninviting staircase that Maya had ever contemplated. It was dark, cramped and narrow. The steps were uneven a
nd it was infused with a smell of decay, damp wool and rodents.

  Maya quaked as she stepped into the cobwebby blackness. ‘I’m scared,’ she wailed. ‘This is just crazy.’

  ‘Scared of what?’ Veda asked from a few stairs up. ‘People use this staircase all the time. It’s just dark. That’s all.’

  ‘I just keep imagining …’

  ‘Imagination is an overrated ability,’ Veda contended, marching upstairs with the assured step of the unimaginative.

  Feeling chastened and foolish, Maya followed in silence till they reached the very top of the staircase. There were two closed doors on the top landing, both fitted with streaky glass. Veda peeped through the foggy panes and oriented herself. ‘I can’t believe that after all these years there are staircases and parts of the college that I still don’t know,’ she mused, shoving one of the doors with her shoulder. ‘I think it’s this door. It’s a bit jammed.’

  Veda pushed again, the door juddered and swung open. Both girls aahed as they stepped outside – dazzled by the exuberant sunlight and the feeling of being on top of the world. The quadrangle of St Paul’s lay beneath them, a long way down. Miniature figures strolled past, their clothes vivid against the glinting gray stone.

  Ahead of them was a narrow walkway, barely wide enough to accommodate a Size 0 supermodel. On one side of this walkway were the sloping roofs of St Paul’s, paved with red Mangalore tiles. On the other side was a low cement parapet that barely came up to Maya’s knees.

  ‘Oh no,’ Maya wailed. ‘I’m scared of heights. I can’t do this.’

  ‘I thought you were scared of the dark,’ Veda said in a cutting tone, almost as if she was compensating for her praise earlier in the morning.

  ‘I am,’ Maya said. ‘And of heights. And of rats. I’m not meant for this.’

  ‘Aadil should have been here,’ Veda sighed, walking one inch at a time on the precarious walkway. ‘He should be doing this.’

  ‘Can you really see Aadil climbing up here?’ Maya asked. Aadil had dashed into the college earlier in the morning, dressed in a French-style beret and flowery Bermudas. Not remotely equipped for a day of crawling around parapets and taking on villains.

  ‘Well, it’s a job for Vitality, isn’t it,’ Veda replied. ‘You’re using your special perception. I’m bringing my considerable knowledge to the table.’

  Veda sounded so pompous that Maya giggled.

  ‘What?’ Veda asked. ‘Why are you just standing there? Come on.’

  Maya bleated but obeyed. She dropped onto her knees and started an ungainly crawl. ‘Why are you so sure that Aadil is the right person?’ she asked, as much to distract herself as to understand Veda.

  ‘Aadil’s got more energy than anybody else I know,’ Veda said. ‘He’s clever. His marks are almost as good as mine. He wants to be a filmmaker and he has an amazing visual sense. You’ve seen him in class. He can identify parts of Mumbai that nobody else can.’

  ‘Yes, but …’ Maya stopped crawling for a moment to blow on her grazed palms and stare ruefully at her filthy jeans. ‘Maybe he has the wrong kind of energy. A negative energy.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know him. I do,’ Veda said, offended. ‘Now quiet for a minute. Let’s concentrate.’

  She crouched, leaned over the parapet and pointed with a grimy finger towards the rump of a gargoyle. ‘That’s Charity, I think. The next one is Hope. Let’s hurry. The sun is terrible.’

  The crawl to Hope was even more torturous. Maya’s palms were raw and slippery with sweat and filth. ‘Do you think all three keys will be hidden in the gargoyle?’ she asked hopefully. ‘I can’t do much more of this.’

  Veda grunted. She had already reached Hope and leaned over to examine the gargoyle, which jutted out into the quadrangle. It was about two feet long and from where they sat, Veda and Maya could see the top of the body and head. The gargoyle was disappointingly solid, without an obvious hiding place.

  The two girls squatted on aching haunches and puffed dispiritedly. ‘I hope this isn’t some wild goose chase,’ Veda panted, running her hand along the gargoyle and shaking her head. ‘There’s nothing here. It’s solid stone.’

  ‘Let’s look carefully,’ Maya said, her voice trembling. Could she have got it all wrong? Could the key be hidden in another gargoyle? Or somewhere else altogether?

  Five minutes of poking and prodding yielded nothing. ‘You seem to have got this wrong,’ Veda decided. ‘There’s nowhere to hide a key in this gargoyle. We might as well go down before we die of sunstroke. We don’t want Brother Francis to lock us in and vanish. He’s just the type.’

  Maya wanted to bawl. Slowly, she turned so she could start her defeated crawl to the staircase, casting a lingering glance at Hope. Then she stiffened and narrowed her eyes against the blinding sunshine. From this angle she could see a little hole in the lamp that the gargoyle was holding aloft.

  ‘Veda,’ she coughed. ‘The lamp. It seems to be hollow. Can you reach the hole?’

  The lamp was small, about the size of a Nutella jar. The neat, round hole was wide enough to accommodate a slender hand.

  ‘My hand will never fit into that,’ Veda said. ‘It will have to be you.’

  The thought of leaning over the parapet into empty space made Maya want to vomit. ‘I just can’t,’ she said. ‘I just can’t. I keep thinking of Father Lorenzo falling to his death.’

  ‘Then think of something else,’ Veda said, exuding righteousness. ‘Stop being so cowardly. I’ll hold you while you stretch. Come on. Let’s get this over with. Think of your dog and what they did to him.’

  The memory filled Maya with reckless rage. She took a gulpy breath, leaned over and extended her hand to the lamp. All the while, Veda clutched her waist firmly and offered unnecessary instructions.

  Maya’s fingers touched the smooth, hard rim of the hole and she pushed them inside and waggled them. Only air.

  Trembling with the effort, she stretched one inch and then another, clutching onto the parapet for dear life. Suddenly, her fingers made contact with something cold and hard. Something that rolled.

  ‘What? What’s there?’ Veda asked, feeling Maya start.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Maya whispered as her fingers tightened around a metallic object. Very slowly and deliberately, she gripped the object, withdrew her hand and sat back, shaking with relief. Then she uncurled her fingers and revealed a cylindrical metal box.

  The box felt light and looked rusty. ‘Open it,’ Veda urged. ‘I can’t wait another minute.’

  Maya tried to unscrew the box, but it was jammed. ‘I guess 60 monsoons can do that to you,’ Maya croaked, starting the long waddle to the door. ‘Let’s get down quick. We can open it later. I’m afraid.’

  ‘Are the keys in there?’ Veda demanded.

  ‘It’s not very heavy,’ Maya replied, stopping to give her aching hips and protesting knees a rest.

  She was shaking the box when Veda exclaimed, ‘Oh no. Move.’

  A group of students in the quadrangle were looking up, waving and calling out.

  ‘What’re you guys doing?’

  ‘Is the view any good? Can we come up?’

  ‘Who’s up there?’

  Maya was almost at the staircase when she spotted a lone figure standing at the far end of the quadrangle, partly concealed by an arch. It was a girl, still and watchful.

  The distance and sunlight, made it impossible to be sure. But Maya had a distinct impression of green eyes and malevolence.

  Fear made Maya scurry. Stuffing the box into her pocket, she quick-crawled to the staircase and charged headlong down the stairwell. Suddenly, there was more to be afraid of than damp smells and spiders. Veda followed without a word. Brother Francis was nowhere to be seen and, slamming the staircase door, they scooted towards Professor Kekobad’s office.

  ‘Anything?’ the professor asked, as they collapsed into the uncomfortable chairs, panting and mopping brows.

 
; ‘We found a box,’ Veda replied. ‘Hope the keys are there.’

  ‘What box?’

  Maya fished out the little metal tube from her pocket. She tried to unscrew it one more time, but it was stuck firm.

  Veda tried a few times. Then Maya tried again. But it was only when Professor Kekobad fished out a pair of pliers from the clutter on his desk and jerked the cap that it began to turn.

  Maya almost screamed with impatience, but Professor Kekobad took his time twisting the cap, squinting into the box and emptying its contents onto his bony palm.

  A tightly folded piece of paper. That was all.

  ‘No key,’ Maya wailed. ‘Just some rubbish that the workmen must have forgotten.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ Veda echoed.

  Professor Kekobad didn’t reply. Instead he laid the paper on the desk and unfolded it. ‘Father Lorenzo’s handwriting, if I’m not mistaken.’

  Veda jumped up to take a look. ‘It is,’ she exhaled. ‘What does it say?’

  Maya held her breath while Veda examined the cramped, faded script on the perilously brittle paper. ‘A poem of some sort. It makes no sense at all, but I’m reading it out.’

  Professor Kekobad leaned forward to listen. Maya scrubbed her face with a grimy handkerchief and tried to pay attention. Slowly, with many stops and starts Veda read:

  ‘Britannia with her trident does rise

  Under warm blue skies

  We three sit at her feet

  Where many lands do meet

  A sheep represents Australia

  A pretty pagoda is China

  What am I?

  The Goddess of Wealth stands so high

  A lotus grand raises her to the sky

  She grants favours to the building below

  While I watch all those who come and go

  What am I?

  I spend my days with a consort and his queen

  And the history that Bombay has seen

  On a verdant island I once lived

  Before I was smashed to bits

  What am I?

  Epilogue:

  Sometimes I am made of stone

  Sometimes I am made of bone