The king of Nahan was worried. His name was Medni Prakash, and two other kings nearby had just joined their families by a marriage, which meant that between them they were now stronger than he was.
He and his minister, Harji, sat and talked it over.
We have prayed to the statues, said the king, and nothing has ever come of it. I begin to think there is nobody inside them.
So we build up the army, he said, and when the day comes we go out and die fighting, and at least that will be a good ending.
Yes, said Harji. But let us not only sit here being gloomy. Let us do one more thing.
What thing?
There is a very old Brahmin, said the minister, living inside our own borders. Away in the forest by the river Yamuna, near the village of Kalsi. He has been sitting there remembering the Lord day and night for as long as anyone can remember. People say he has been given things that ordinary people are not given.
So the next day the king went out hunting, which was partly true and partly an excuse, and in the afternoon he and Harji rode quietly off to the hut.
The minister went in first. The old man was sitting in the verandah on a stone with grass spread over it. He was more than a hundred years old. There was no flesh on him at all, only bones, and his back was bent, and his face was shining.
The king is waiting outside, said Harji. May I bring him?
And the old man began struggling to get up on his shaking legs, saying, it is my good fortune that a king has come to my door.
Sit, said the minister gently, pushing him back down. He is not coming to you as a king. He is coming for your blessing. You are the elder here.
So the king came in and both of them bowed from the doorway.
They talked about small things first, the way people do, and then they came to the real thing, and the old man listened to all of it.
I have prayed in your kingdom all my life, he said, and I want no harm to come to it.
And then his eyes filled up.
He sat quiet a while. Then his whole face changed and began to shine, and he shut his eyes, and swayed, and when he opened them again there were tears standing in them.
Listen, he said. These are dark days. In days like these, one comes.
He has come. He is here already, in the world, now. And if you can find him and meet him, you will not lose anything.
Where? said the king. How do we find him with no address?
I do not know where, said the old man.
Then he told them about himself, which was the saddest and best part.
When I was young, he said, I worshipped statues. A sadhu taught me to worship one particular statue, and I have done it ever since. All I ever wanted was for the statue I was worshipping to look back at me. Just once. To be alive.
Eighty years, he said. Eighty years of sitting here. And out of all of it, I have been given one thing only, and it is this.
I can see him.
He is young, said the old man. Handsome. Tall and slim. His eyes are like a deer's eyes. His arms are so long they hang down to his knees. And there is a brightness on his forehead.
The king and the minister looked at each other, because they had begun to guess.
Is he at Kahlur? said the king. Is he the enemy of King Bhim Chand?
Enemy? said the old man. He is nobody's enemy. He loves everybody.
It is people's own deeds that are their enemies, he said. A person who comes from the Lord is all love. It is only those who are frightened of him who call him an enemy.
The king wanted to ask more. But the old man had said everything he had.
He had been waiting eighty years, and now he was very tired, and there was only one thing left in the world that he wanted.