"Non-Hindus always want to know 'why.' To 'understand.' You always seem to believe that words somehow contain all truth. But dharma simply is. It is the air we breathe, the changeless order around us. We're part of it. Does the earth ask why the monsoons come? Does the seed ask why the sun shines each day? No. It's _dharma_. The dharma of the seed is to bear fruit. The dharma of the warrior caste is to do battle. Only _feringhi_, who live outside our dharma, ask 'why.' Truth is not something you 'understand.' It's something you're part of. It's something you feel with your being. And when you try to catch it with words, it's gone. Can the eagle tell you how he flies, Captain Hawksworth, or 'why"? If he could, he would no longer be an eagle. This is the great wisdom of India. We've learned it's wasted on _feringhi_, Captain, as I fear it's now wasted on you." The talk left Hawksworth feeling strangely insecure, his mind wrestling with ideas that defied rationality. "I know there are things you understand with your gut, not with your head." "Then there may be hope for you, Captain Hawksworth. Now we will see if you can die like a Rajput. If you can, perhaps you will be reborn one of us." "Then I might even learn to be a bandit." "All Rajputs are not the same, Captain. There are many tribes, descended from different dynasties. Each has its own tradition and genealogy. I'm from the north. From the races descended from the moon. This tribe claims descent from the solar dynasty, which also began in the north. I think their genealogy goes back to the god Indra, who they claim brought them into being with the aid of the sun." Vasant Rao turned and continued reciting in Sanskrit. His face again became a mask. Hawksworth rubbed his head in confusion and suddenly felt a hard lump where the club had dropped. The fear began to well up in his stomach as he remembered the stony-faced riders who had surrounded him in the river. But he pushed aside thoughts of death. _Dharma_ be damned. What did he mean, they're members of a clan descended from the "solar dynasty"? They're killers, looking for an excuse to plunder. I'm not planning to die like a Rajput just yet. Or be reborn as one. Life is too sweet just as it is. I'm beginning to feel alive here, for the first time ever. Shirin is free. I've got a feeling I'll be seeing her again. Whatever happens, I don't care to die in this piss hole, with empty talk about honor. Think. He remembered the river again, and quickly felt in his boot. The other pistol was still there. We'll find a way to get out. Somehow. We may just lose a few days' time, that's all. We made good time so far. Six days. We left on Sunday, and we've been here two days. So today is probably Monday. He suddenly froze. "Where are the carts?" "At the south end of the village. Where they have the _chans_, the cattle sheds. The drivers are there too." "Is my chest there?"