"Don't be foolish. You judge the skill of a musician. Why not of a courtesan?" She turned and said something Hawksworth did not understand. Both musicians immediately rose and moved a screen across the corner of the room where they were sitting. Then, from behind the screen came the first notes of a simple, poignant melody, the soft tones of the bamboo swelling slowly to envelop the room in their gentleness. "I have asked him to play the _alap_, the opening section, of a south Indian raga for you. To help you understand. His music has the life breath of _prahna_. He speaks to Lord Shiva with his music. _Kama_ too must come from the heart. If we are worthy, we evoke the life-giving power within us." Her eyes snapped back to Hawksworth. "But tell me more about this Surat courtesan." "Perhaps I'm not entirely qualified to judge. She certainly knew more tricks than most women in England." "That's not surprising. It's well known _feringhi _women know nothing of pleasure." Kamala paused and studied Hawksworth carefully with her dark eyes. "But I've never known a _feringhi _who could move my senses with music. You did that just now, even though I don't understand how. I cannot dance for you; that is for Shiva. But I want to touch you." She shifted on the carpet until she was at Hawksworth's feet. With a gentle motion she removed a boot and quickly ran a finger across one toe. Nerves throughout his body tingled unexpectedly. "What did you do just then?" "The secret of _kama _is touch. To touch and be touched by one we desire always gives pleasure. Do you understand what I mean?" "Is that _kama_?" "A very small part." "You know, the courtesan in Surat actually told me about you. She said you had a book . . . an ancient text." Kamala laughed and began to remove the other boot. "And I've always heard that _feringhi _think everything can be put in books. You probably mean the _Kama Sutra_. Whoever told you about it has probably never seen it. Of course I have it, and I can tell you it is one of the great frauds of India. It was compiled by a musty scholar named Vatsyayana, who obviously knew nothing about giving pleasure, and simply copied things here and there from much older books. It's amusing, perhaps, but it's also pedantic and ignorant. It's certainly not sensuous, and the reason is he knew nothing about desire. He probably had none. He only knew how to make lists of things, like ways of biting and scratching during love play, but he had no idea why these are exciting." She stroked the other foot very lightly along the arch with her long red fingernail, and again a bolt of sensation shot through him. "I'm beginning to see your point." "I don't think you understand anything yet. Did you know the pleasure, the power, the beauty possible in your music on the very first day you touched a string of this instrument?" "I knew there was something in music that moved me, but I wasn't sure what it was."