This is viphuthi special clay in a form of powder, – whispered Prakash, – they consider it to possess certain curing qualities.

Holmes hardly heard what Kumar had said. Nonetheless a savadal standing his back to the road and looking narrowly at excited pilgrims immediately felt something wrong and made a fierce face. Sai Baba approached Holmes and he understood why it was so important to sit in the first rows. Sai Baba though of all his divine majesty could see eyes of three or at most five rows. He was a man of about seventy-five with tired swarthy “peasant’s” face and big sad black eyes. He carried notes given by pilgrims in his hands. A vacant smile of calmness wandered at his face. Sometimes he slowed down a little and peered at a face, which had attracted him; but then he made a slight wave of the hand as if bidding farewell to that glance impatiently waiting for him; then he continued his slow moving. Finally he appeared before Holmes and their eyes met each other for a second or two.

Who art thou? What dost thou need here? – Strictly asked the glance, though the face was still calm a peaceful.

A human. I would like to talk. – Holmes also silently answered not lowering his gaze, without a challenge, friendly but not ingratiatingly.

The gaze of Sai Baba said nothing. It roved somewhere forward and away from Holmes. After it he continued going forward with the same festinating gait.

It means that he didn’t hear or didn’t want to talk, – Holmes decided for himself still not taking his eyes off of Sai Baba’s back.

But suddenly he slowed down, then stopped and slowly turned back. After it he moved back and stopped before Holmes, looked at him and shortly asked:

Are you English?

Yes, – Holmes nodded assent.

How much[81]?

Two.

Go, – Sai Baba waved his hand and followed forth continuing his beat.

Holmes and Prakash rose and carefully overstepped the carpet road (a savadal interdicted to step on it with some jest). They went to the podium where two women had been already sitting waiting for an audience. Holmes before sitting down looked around searching for Grisha. But he was already getting out the privileged crowd on the podium.

Well, even here a certain hierarchy exists, – Holmes noted to himself.

Grisha came and sat down near.

Mr, Holmes, everything is going as with the Russians in the last year. That time Swami didn’t invited them at once as well. Let’s see what is going to be.

The ceremony has ended and Sai Baba called those who were waiting for him to follow him beyond the massive oaken doors opened by savadals for him. The room they’d entered was rather small. A heavy armchair resembling a throne upholstered with red velvet stood in the corner. To the left of it was a way to another room, hung with a heavy curtain. Sai Baba took a white napkin from a small escritoire, wiped sweat from his face and sat down the armchair. Women situated to the right and men to the left on the floor. The conversation at first started with women. It was a usual talk of women’s fate in the western inhabitant’s life, of her grieves and joys. For each of them Sai Baba spared some minutes, asked about their home deals and like a father gave advices what shouldn’t be done for living in calmness and gladness. But at once he for some times mildly rebuked them for improper behaviour. It was very similar to Catholic confessions but without any external attributes referring to the “church mysteries” of the ritual. It the end of the conversation Sai Baba seemed to shrink into him. Holmes strained all his attention, feeling that something strange was going inside the room. It was hard to find the words for it. That “something strange” was just hovering near, though one couldn’t either see or hear “it”. Suddenly Sai Baba made a wide jest with his right hand and a golden chain with an elegant pendant on it. He put it on the neck of the woman gone for ecstasies. And his eyes studied thoroughly the face of the woman sitting next to her. Her face was an ordinary face of a woman who had seen an inaccessible adornment in her friend’s attire. Sai Baba knew how to read even more intricate thoughts. He obviously had no intentions to bring up a feeling of envy. Thus the second jest followed, and another chain with precious pendant appeared and move to the neck of frustrate envious woman. From the conversation Holmes got that one woman was from Canada and another from Australia; but separated by a great distance they were twins in their passions. Finally, when sincere tears of tenderness and joy and numerous hearty thanks of the happy possessors of signs of attention were taken, Sai Baba addressed to the men.

What is your name? – He strictly asked Grisha.

Grisha, – the young man wasn’t confused and answered with a smile.

Krishna? – Sai Baba asked again even more strictly, but his eyes were laughing.

No, I’m Russian and my name is Grisha, – the translator answered as if continuing some game.

And why are you here with Englishmen, Krishna? Do you ant to translate my words on Russian for them? You should not; Russians understand everything well even without them. – He finished talking to Grisha with this strange phrase and only after it paid his attention to Holmes and his friend. – What has led you to me?

I would like to understand the “picnics”, – Holmes decided to go straight forth.

Yes, the picnics are easy, – Sai Baba told as of something well known – you have seen how it is made, – he nodded at the women on his left and continued immediately becoming serious. – Even if I wanted it I would not be able to explain you how the picnics were made. One should feel everything himself. And what are you doing? – And without waiting for an answer he declared for everybody. – He tries to understand how to make a “picnic” though he has never done them himself.

Faces of the presents showed that they completely didn’t realize what did the matter concerned of. But Sai Baba talked via eyes and words at different levels. That old and wise man knew much more that he could tell his visitors. Holmes understood that he would tell nothing by words. So he was just to read that, what was going in some unclear images from Sai Baba’s eyes. And his eyes wonderfully young and vivid read his visitor and told at once. But how hard was to read unfamiliar images from ancient ages; and even more difficult was to translate those images on any common language. Holmes remembered what Verov had told about concepts as of united systems of images and words in Spain. But that time even Verov was powerless.

And you, – Sai Baba strictly asked Prakash, – why are you here? You are not an Englishmen but like everything English. It is not good.

I help Mr. Holmes, – Kumar answered joining his hands like a prayer and his face changed its colour from swarthy to grey.

I know whom do you help and how, – Sai Baba smiled once again, – but why do you help little to your brother?

He lives in Russia and is doing well.

But he has more deals that he does not consider to be his deals. But they mean much for Russia and India. And you must help him, but for this you must understand that, what your brother has not understood yet. And Krishna understands something about these deals. – And he gave a conspiratorial wink to Grisha. – Help me, – he addressed to Prakash, and it was a sigh of a peculiar favour.

Prakash with prayerfully joined hands on his knees crept to the armchair. Sai Baba rose leaning on his shoulder showing thus that the audience was finished. Everybody stood up and went to exit. The huge space of the temple was lighted by the morning Sun and … empty. The conversation lasted for an hour but the crowd of five thousands had time to go away; and it perplexed Holmes a little. Pilgrims were going for breakfast and Holmes with his “escort” went to canteen too. After the breakfast Grisha offered to show the sights of ashram. During short walk Holmes saw the Museum of All Religions and the sacred tree. It was told, that sitting on it Sai Baba even in his childhood created exotic fruits for his neighbours. It was only about ten o’clock but the Sun burned unmercifully. Holmes asked Grisha to guide him to the local “post-office” to call to London. Audibility was fine and Watson told that he was ready to discuss the “picnics”. After phoning Holmes suggested returning to the hotel. Prakash alleged the need of solving a problem of leaving Puttaparthi and disappeared somewhere. Grisha went for his folder. Holmes waiting for Grisha stood near the hotel building called “NORD, 4”. His eyes fell on big tree near the stonewall fencing the whole ashram in. At that moment Grisha appeared.