“Well, Arjun, what have we here?” I asked in my most authoritative voice. I had slipped silently walked and was standing directly in front of him, staring him in the eye. “Oh shit! I… I was just reading,” the youngster choked, trying desperately to get his hard-on back into his underwear. “Oh, really? Just reading, Arjun? You have an interesting way of just reading, Arjun.” I smiled, enjoying the way the boy was struggling to shove his penis back into his underwear and also pull his jeans up.. “I… I gotta go, Aunty!” Arjun rasped, jumping up off the chair and trying to get by me, who was blocking the narrow passage between the table and wall. “Not so fast, Arjun. I don’t think you’re going anywhere quite yet,” I said firmly, putting my hand on the boy’s shoulder and pushing back gently but firmly. “But I… I gotta go… Honest… I gotta!” the boy protested, sitting back on chair and putting the magazine over his lap. I noticed that the open magazine was moving in his lap, jumping up and. He thought them too stern and laconic. Their strict codes had little appeal.Each day he awoke at sunrise and prayed in a specially appointed room with these chosen clerics. He would have much rather judged the students or take long strolls to the women’s campus in the hopes of finding Rashida there.Most of him died when Rashida died, although strangely he would gaze from the quadrangle of the main campus onto the dusty road which led to the women’s dormitories. He never set foot on the women’s campus. This would have caused a great stir, and Khozem had matured enough to avoid scandal. He no longer kept in touch with the students, as his training was confined to very old men who asked him to read and interpret page after page of text. He followed what they said, and he hated every moment, because deep in his heart he longed for Rashida.He never escaped from this singular fascination. He created the illusion that she still lived, if not through reincarnation, then through the spirits.
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