The Dalai Lama's Cat and the Power of Meow (The Dalai Lama's Cat 3) - Page 40

Against his chest, Zahra’s small body racked with sobs. Sid caressed her back, trying to calm her.

Eventually she managed, “Granny said I wasn’t allowed to eat cakes and ice cream because I need to lose weight.”

“I’ve no idea why she thinks that.”

“When she took me for a fitting, they said I could lose a few pounds.”

“Fitting?”

“She wants me to look my best when we go to meet Gurinder Panesar.”

For just a moment, Sid froze. Then he began stroking her hair back from her face.

“Do you know him?” she asked.

“Is he one of the Panesars from Darjeeling?”

She nodded.

“In that case, I know of the family. They are one of the most powerful and influential warrior-caste families in all India. I suppose Granny has told you that Gurinder is the most wonderful boy and would make you the very best husband in the world?”

“That was the secret! How did you guess?”

“Because Granny tried to force your dear mother into an arranged marriage, too, to increase the family’s status. Instead, Mummy chose to marry me for love.”

“But Granny wouldn’t force me to marry someone, would she?” Zahra asked, looking up at him. For the first time, she was beginning to comprehend her grandmother’s scheming for what it was.

Sid took both her hands in his own and met her expression with

a look of unyielding protection. “Not now, she won’t,” he said.

That evening I was sitting on my sill overlooking Namgyal courtyard as the sun went down. While His Holiness worked on correspondence at his desk, I contemplated my eventful visit to 21 Tara Crescent. I’d enjoyed exploring the delightful, rambling house with the tower, which, I had a strong inkling, could soon become an important part of my life. And meeting Zahra; that powerful, mutual connection we had both instantly felt! Most of all, I thought about my dear friend Serena and the succession of revelations that had not only exposed Mrs. Wazir’s stratagem—but that had also ensured she would never succeed.

I reflected on how, after Sid and Zahra returned from the garden, Zahra had happily accepted her ice cream from Serena and wandered through the house while she enjoyed it. Sid and Serena, meanwhile, spoke in low voices. I had never seen such cold fury in Sid’s eyes as he told Serena of Mrs. Wazir’s betrayal. This, declared Sid singlemindedly, was the end of it. He was not going to allow his daughter to be manipulated, nor would he be used as a doormat.

Serena had stepped over to hug him. There was relief in her face as he held her tightly. Not that it was a moment of melodrama—more a gentle letting go of what she could feel, hear, and see, right then. Ani Drolma’s advice had seemed to deepen that understanding, with the recognition that a thought is merely a thought, not a truth, nor something to be entrapped by.

There was a gentle knock on the Dalai Lama’s door. His Holiness glanced up from his desk, as did I from the sill, to see Oliver at the door. “You wanted to see this book, Your Holiness?” He brought in a recently published book on quantum physics.

“Very good, thank you,” said His Holiness as he smiled and accepted the book from him. He studied the cover.

“You have read it?”

“Parts of it.”

“Useful?”

“Some interesting insights.” Oliver hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I was particularly struck by the quotation from Erwin Schrödinger along the lines that ‘Every man’s world picture is and always remains a construct of his mind and cannot be proved to have any other existence.’ The way he seems to be saying that if we change our attitude toward things, we change the things themselves.”

The Dalai Lama considered this with an earnest expression on his face before rising from his desk, stepping over to the sill, and sitting beside me.

“Good quote,” he said. “But I think I prefer the version by Buddha himself: ‘The objective world rises from the mind itself.’”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Identical concept, expressed more succinctly.”

His Holiness chuckled as he reached out to stroke me. “And more accurately,” he said, “Buddha’s version includes the minds of all sem-chens—not only humans.”

“Oh, I see what you’re saying.” Oliver smiled.

Tags: David Michie The Dalai Lama's Cat Fiction
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