Shadow of the giant

you
admired him—for exactly the same traits."
    "I never saw the plans."
    "You never asked the most brilliant minds in India for
a shred of advice. Instead, you trusted a Belgian psychopath. And followed his
advice to make unprovoked war on Burma and Thailand, pouring out war on nations
that had done no harm to us. A man who embraces the voice of evil when it
whispers in his ear is no less evil than the whisperer."
    "I'm not impressed by your ability to coin
aphorisms."
    "Sayagi defied Achilles to his face, and Achilles shot
him dead."
    "Then he was foolish to do it."
    "Dead as he is, Sayagi has more value to India than you
have ever had or will ever have in all the days of your life."
    "I'm sorry he's dead. But I'm not dead."
    "You're mistaken. Sayagi lives on in the spirit of
India. But you are dead, Tikal Chapekar. You are as dead as a man can be, and
still breathe."
    "So now it comes to threats."
    "I asked my aides to bring you to me so I could help
you understand what will now happen to you. There is nothing for you in India.
Sooner or later you will leave and make a life for yourself somewhere
else."
    "I will never leave."
    "Only on the day you leave will you begin to understand
Satyagraha."
    "Peaceful noncompliance?"
    "Willingness to suffer, yourself and in person, for a
cause you believe is right. Only when you are willing to embrace Satyagraha
will you begin to atone for what you have done to India. Now you should
go."
    Chapekar did not realize anyone had been listening. He might
have stayed to argue, but the moment she said those words, a man came into the
hut and drew him out.
    He had thought they would let him go, but they didn't, not
until they led him into the town and sat him down in the back room of a small
office and brought up a notice on the nets.
    It was his own picture. A short vid taken as the young man
tossed dirt onto him.
    "Tikal Chapekar is back," said a voice.
    The picture changed to show Chapekar in his glory days.
Brief clips and stills.
    "Tikal Chapekar brought war to India by attacking Burma
and Thailand without any provocation, all to try to make himself a great
man."
    Now there were pictures of Indian victims of atrocities.
"Instead, he was taken captive by the Chinese. He wasn't here to help us
in our hour of need."
    The picture of him with dirt being flung on him returned to
the screen.
    "Now he's back from captivity, and he wants to rule
over India."
    A picture of Chapekar talking cheerfully with the Muslim
guards outside the gates of the compound. "He wants to help our Muslim
overlords rule over us forever."
    Again with the dirt-flinging.
    "How can we rid ourselves of this man? Let us all
pretend he doesn't exist. If no one speaks to him, waits on him, shelters him,
feeds him, or helps him in any way, he will have to turn to the foreigners he
invited into our land."
    That was when they ran the footage of Chapekar turning the
government of India over to Wahabi.
    "Even in defeat, he invited evil upon us. But India
will not punish him. India will simply ignore him until he goes away."
    The program ended—with, of course, the dirt-flinging
picture.
    "Clever setup," said Chapekar.
    They ignored him.
    "What do you want from me, so you won't publish that
piece of trash?"
    They ignored him.
    After a while, he began to rage, and tried to fling the
computer to the ground. That was when they restrained him and put him out of
doors.
    Chapekar walked down the street, looking for lodging. There
were houses with rooms to rent. They opened the door when he called out, but
when they saw his face, they closed the doors again.
    Finally he stood in the street and shouted. "All I want
is a place to sleep! And a bite to eat! What you would give a dog!"
    But no one even told him to shut up.
    Chapekar went to the train station and tried to buy a ticket
out, using some of the money the Chinese had given him to help him make his way
home. But no one would sell him a ticket. Whatever window he went to was closed
in his face, and the line moved over to the next one, making no room for him.
    At noon the next day, exhausted, hungry, thirsty, he made
his way back to the Muslim military compound and, after being fed and clothed
and given a place to bathe and sleep by his enemies, he was flown out of India,
then out of Muslim territory. He ended up in the Netherlands, where public
charity would support him until he found employment.
     
     
    The second visitor followed no known road to come to the
hut. Virlomi