The Sacred Vault

‘Eddie, it’s okay,’ said Nina, cheeks flushing. ‘No harm done, and . . . well, he’s obviously a little, uh . . .’ She tried to think of a non-offensive term. ‘Eccentric.’

The yogi cackled. ‘No, no. Rich people are eccentric. I am mad!’

‘He’s not mad,’ Kit said impatiently. ‘The Pashupatis are a sect of Shiva worshippers - sometimes called the Order of Lunatics. Some of them pretend to be mad to drive away people who want to associate with a holy man for their own personal gain.’ He turned to the old man. ‘Go on, be on your way.’

‘No, wait,’ said Nina. ‘He said he knows who we are—’

‘’Cause he saw you on TV,’ Eddie cut in.

‘—and why we’re here.’ She addressed the yogi. ‘Why are we here?’

‘You seek the Vault of Shiva, of course.’

The trio exchanged concerned looks. ‘How do you know that?’ Nina asked.

‘Why else would you be here? You are the famous Nina Wilde, you search for ancient legends and reveal them to the world. The other legends of this mountain, the pool of Parvati, the Shivalingam, they are all known. So you are looking for the one that is not.’

‘Nobody knows the legend of the Vault of Shiva,’ said Kit. ‘Dr Wilde only discovered it recently.’

The yogi was affronted. ‘I know it! So does everyone who lives here.’ He dropped his voice to a mock whisper. ‘But they will not tell anyone, because it is their great secret.’

‘So why’re you telling us?’ asked Eddie.

‘Because I am mad!’ He whooped, before becoming serious once more. ‘But you will not find it, Dr Wilde.’

‘You seem pretty certain of that,’ she said.

‘The Vault of Shiva is not real; it does not exist. Sometimes, a legend is just a legend. You should go home.’

‘That’s not really an option. We have to find the Vault. Before someone else does.’

He eyed her quizzically. ‘Someone in particular?’

‘We can’t talk about it. I’m sorry.’

His gaze revealed a thoughtful intelligence as he considered her words . . . then the crazy mask returned. ‘Everyone has their secrets! Ha! So sad. Nobody with a secret can ever reach the end of the path to enlightenment.’

‘The only path we’re bothered about is the one to Kedarnath,’ said Eddie, annoyed. ‘You know where it is?’

‘Of course I do! I was born in these mountains, I was married in . . .’ He tailed off, briefly lost in some memory, then faced Nina. ‘You are going up to Kedarnath, though there is nothing to find?’

‘Yes, we are.’

‘Even in this weather?’ He waved his stick at the cloud-shrouded mountain.

‘Yes.’

He shook his head, muttering something in Hindi. ‘Very well,’ he continued. ‘I will show you the way.’

‘I think we can manage, mate,’ Eddie said.

Nina’s refusal was more gentle. ‘That’s very generous, but we’ll be fine. Thank you.’

‘No, no, I insist,’ said the yogi. ‘You need a guide - there are many big falls. And I will find you a warm place to sleep at Kedarnath.’

‘I thought there wasn’t anyone there?’ said Kit.

‘There is not, but I will still find you a place! Come, come. The path is this way.’ He pointed up the street.

‘If you come with us,’ said Nina, ‘you’ll be walking fourteen kilometres up a mountain in the snow - why would you do that for us?’

He replied as if the answer was perfectly obvious. ‘Because it is the right thing to do! You need help, I am here to help. What other reason could there be? Now come, this way.’

‘Are we really going to let him come?’ Eddie asked Nina.

‘Can we stop him? I mean, if he wants follow us to Kedarnath, there isn’t much we can do about it.’

‘If he gets hypothermia, I’m not carrying him back down the bloody mountain,’ he grumbled.

‘Well,’ said Nina, ‘looks like we have a guide, whether we want one or not.’ She picked up her pack. ‘Oh, you didn’t tell us your name, Mr . . .’

‘Girilal Mitra,’ the old man said, bowing. ‘Very pleased to be at your service. Now, I hope you have good shoes - it’s a long walk!’ Dancing again, he pushed through the crowd. The trio hesitated, then followed.

Nina noticed that while the pilgrims were startled by the old man’s behaviour, others whom she assumed to be locals reacted with little more than weary disdain, or even ignored him entirely, as if well used to his antics. ‘So . . . how long have you been on the path to enlightenment?’

‘Some paths, you cannot know how long they are until you reach the end,’ said Girilal.

‘Very profound, but that’s not what I asked.’

‘I know. But here is one path I know well.’ The stick pointed at an arched gate, painted a brick-red, at the foot of a steep flight of steps leading up between the buildings. ‘The way to Kedarnath. Are you sure you want to go?’

‘Yes,’ Nina said firmly. ‘I’m sure.’

‘I thought so. Well!’ He clapped his hands. ‘Let us begin!’

Fourteen kilometres is just over eight and a half miles, and Nina had traversed similar distances across rough terrain with relative ease in the past. The difference here was that barely a yard of the trek was on the flat. Before they were a mile from Gaurikund her legs were aching from the constant, punishing climb up the steep snow- covered path. Kit was faring better, but not by much, and even Eddie, laden with the largest pack, was starting to show signs of strain.

The ascent didn’t appear to bother Girilal, however. He hummed a tune as he strolled, and even occasionally skipped, along. A shrill wind whistled down the slope, flapping the hem of his grubby robe.

‘I can’t believe you’re not cold,’ said Nina. Even with the exertion of the walk, she was glad of her thick hooded jacket and weatherproof trousers. ‘Do you use some mind-over-matter meditation technique?’

‘Oh, nothing like that,’ he said cheerily. ‘I am cold. I just don’t show it!’

Eddie grunted disapprovingly. ‘Deliberately risking frostbite is pretty fucking stupid, mate. Why do it? Getting rid of your worldly goods is one thing, but does Shiva say you’ve got to torture yourself?’

‘How I serve my penance is my choice,’ Girilal replied, for the first time since they had met him revealing a hint of negative emotion - not so much anger as sorrow.

‘Penance for what?’ Nina asked.

‘For my sins, of course. I cannot reach enlightenment until Lord Shiva has forgiven me for everything bad I have done.’

‘The Catholic way’s easier,’ said Eddie. ‘Quick confession, couple of Hail Marys, and you’re sorted.’

‘Like you’ve ever been to confession,’ joked Nina. ‘You’d be in there for hours! The priests would have to work in shifts.’

‘Don’t make me add clipping my wife round the ear to my list.’ Girilal resumed his humming, leading the way. The trees became sparser as they ascended, the unobstructed wind picking up. Along the way they passed a few tiny settlements, handfuls of huts huddled together - all without roofs. Nina at first thought they were derelict, until Girilal explained that the merchants inhabiting the little hamlets moved down the mountain during the winter; when Kedarnath was closed to pilgrims and tourists, they had no customers. The roofs were removed to prevent them from collapsing under the weight of snow.

The clouds closed in, the valley disappearing into a grey haze. Kit read a Hindi sign as they stopped to rest. ‘Four kilometres to go.’

‘We’ve only walked six miles?’ said Nina in breathless disbelief. ‘It feels like sixty!’

Once recovered, they carried on up the slope, which became steeper and rockier. By now, they were above the tree line, the only vegetation small bushes poking out from the snow. The dampness of the surrounding clouds intensified the cold still further. Nina tried to offer Girilal a blanket, but he refused, resolutely picking out the path ahead of them.