Smiling toothlessly, the ancient guru stared at Govindaram. “Preposterous, boy? Preposterous?” Standing in the master’s hut under his low, wooden roof, the lad felt dubious. He watched the ancient’s left hand plop an ivory needle into the bowl and let it sink. Finally, curious, he peered into the vessel. Startled, Govindaram stared at the moon … Continue reading The cloudy ripples