I bless them and ask about their plans for the next season, for the year. It’s one of the things I miss most about being human. There were always plans.
“I’m handing the throne down too. My successor is like a son to me.”
“Arjun?” I ask, and Chandradev nods.
Arjun visits the temple sometimes too. He still brings small gifts for me. Sometimes a scarf, or a bracelet made out of jasmine buds. Another time, a seashell.
“He’ll make an excellent maharaja,” I tell Chandradev. And I know that he will, that he gives every part of himself to the things and people he loves. And he loves this kingdom.
¤
After the pujas, I watch people tuck parchment into the crevices of the temple. They bring gifts: garlands of marigold, boxfuls of juicy golden jalebi. Mangoes and pomegranates, guavas and figs. I distribute the food to anyone who comes to me, asking for my blessings, asking for advice.
I’ve learned that it’s best not to interfere too much. The best I can do is be there and listen to anyone who needs to be heard.
By dusk, Varun and I watch the last caravans leave the temple, making their way down the Silk Road. The sky is almost crimson, so beautiful that it’s impossible not to look at.
And then, right as we’re about to depart, a chariot arrives. It stops just outside the temple, and Varun goes out to meet it.
A woman hops out. “I know the temple is closing,” I hear her say, “but I’d just like to see her once. You see, I’ve traveled all the way from Macedon to see her, and I know it’s her last day for another six months.”
I recognize her voice and come out to greet her.
“My name is Thala,” she tells me. “I don’t know why, but for some time now, I’ve had this feeling . . . as though I need to come see you,” she says, and I smile at her, nod my head.
“It is written,” I say to her, and she smiles as though we understand each other.
“Would you like to join us for a cup of chai?” Varun asks her. “You’ve come all the way from Macedon—that’s quite a journey.”
She nods, looking relieved. “I’d love to,” she says, as Varun ushers her into the temple.
“I went to Macedon once,” I tell her as she begins to sit down by my feet. “No, no, not there,” I say, taking her hand and pulling her into the chair beside me. “You’re like an old friend.”
“It certainly feels that way, doesn’t it?” she says. “I grew up hearing stories about you from my mother and my aunts. Perhaps that’s why. I love a good story,” she tells me, and I have to smile.
“Would you like to hear my story?” I ask.
And she nods her head, her eyes wide.
“It begins right here, in Shalingar,” I start. “Another time, another place. Have you ever heard the Parable of the Land of Trees?” I ask her.
“I think I have,” she says as she leans in, and I begin to tell her the tale.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
When I was a junior in college, I had the opportunity to meet my favorite author, Arundhati Roy, and somewhere in between my fangirling over her, she said something to the effect of, “Don’t bother trying to learn how to write. Learn to see the world. That’s your only job as a writer.” I’m tremendously grateful for a vibrant community of friends and family who play an enormous role in how I see the world every day.
Enormous thanks to my editor at Razorbill, Jessica Almon, for her brilliant and insightful feedback, for her tireless support, and for her friendship. I wish every author had an editor as thoughtful and caring as Jessica. Razorbill has been a wonderful publishing home for my books, and I’m thankful to Ben Schrank for welcoming me into the Razorbill family and to Lauren Donovan and Jennifer Dee for all their support and hard work bringing this book to the world.
I’ve been lucky enough to have Theresa Evangelista design two gorgeous covers for my books, and every time I receive a compliment about either of them, I think of her.
Thanks to the wonderful Jenny Bent who has always been an enormous champion of my work, whose feedback I have come to rely upon. She’s also super fun to talk to on the phone about feminism, politics, and books.
While I was writing this novel, Jolene Pinder and Clint Bowie visited from New Orleans on a handful of occasions and made my home the scene of numerous slumber parties. I am ever so grateful for their friendship and love and for their fantastic hospitality and the drive-thru slushies and movie nights when I visit them in NOLA.
Payal Aggarwal-Scott and Andrew Scott came out to book events and went taco tasting with me in Tijuana while I was working on this manuscript. Their encouragement and kindness (and love for food-related adventures, big and small) have truly enriched my life.
Jeff Perry saw me through the process of publishing my debut novel as well as writing my second one. I am ever indebted to him for his love and kindness and for his lovely notes, emails, and letters.
I’m thankful for friends like Jen and Sam Sparks for their general wonderfulness, because they are always suggesting cool places like the Roger Room for drinks and for making me laugh when I most need it.
Thanks to Dan Lopez for his support, amazing eye for detail and beauty, aesthetic advice, and the great articles he sends my way. Thanks also to Edgar the rescue dog, who basically makes everyone’s day better.
I will never be able to thank Bridget Jurgens enough for all she has done for me, but I’m forever indebted to her and grateful for her friendship and love.
In no particular order, these fantastic human beings have always been there with the perfect words, book recommendations, or tasty meals right when I most needed them: Dee Montealvo, Nathalie Huot, Linda Sivertsen, and Tabby Nanyonga. If past lives really do exist, I have a long history with these folks. On a regular basis, they nurture my soul with their spirit of generosity.
Thanks also to Kate McClelland, or Mrs. Mac as we all knew her, who ran the Young Critics Club at Perrot Library and nurtured my love of books. Even though she’s not with us anymore, I think about her regularly and hope that I’ve made her proud.
For their friendship, support, and love, thanks also to Stephanie Watanabe, Veronica Ho, Akriti Macker, Jenny Rosenbluth, Julie Fulton, Meredith Hight, Kirsten Markson, Jaime Reichner, Julia Ruchman, Susanna Fogel, Taryn Aronson, Dahvi Waller, Shelley Marks, Smitha Khorana, Lizzie Prestel, Kristie and Brian Kim, Krupa Desai, Priya and Sanjay Nambiar, Lizzy Klein, Alessandro Terenzoni, Melissa Brough and Chris Marshall, Adam Chanzit, Katie Robbins, Daniel Berson, Jessica Poter, Romina Garber, Tansy Meyer and Brian Lauzon, and Nell-Rutledge Leverenz.
Thanks also to Percy for making my life run smoothly and for her warmth and kindness, and to Ginny Fleming for keeping me level and sane through the difficult times.
Thank you to Amanda Petrocelly, Zoe Owens, Nick Paliokas, and Miriam Brummel and everyone at Cafecito Organico for daily news/laughs/TV recommendations/astrological forecasts. Seeing them is often my favorite part of the day.
Thanks also to Heidi Heilig for her support and encouragement and for all she does to promote diverse books and #ownvoices authors.
My first book was dedicated to my grandparents, and even if it’s a cliché, I’ve always believed that even though they’re no longer here, they know what I’m up to. I hope I’ve made them proud.
Last, but certainly not least, Library of Fates is my second novel, but one of the best things about publishing my first novel was seeing my parents’ reaction to this enormous career transition I decided to make in 2012 and everything that’s come with it. As with most creative ventures, it was looking a little touch and go for a while, but they offered so much support and wisdom and love during the hard part and so it’s been fun sharing the good stuff with them too. Seeing their faces in the crowd at my first book launch was one of my proudest moments. Having them come out to book events, getting texts from them with pictures of my books in bookst
ores, and learning that my mother is the best publicist I could ever have asked for has been an enormous delight. I hope they know how grateful I am to them for creating so many amazing and enriching possibilities for our family.
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The Library of Fates Page 24
