3. Rug Dealers
Ramanujan and Namagiri were
cuddling. It was night, the lamps were out, and they were in bed together.
Namagiri said, “Did you see the caravan arrive?”
Ramanujan said, “Yes, I did.”
“Were there horses? Camels?
Elephants?”
“No elephants, a few horses, mostly
camels,” Ramanujan said. “The camels galumphed through the streets, their packs
swaying. People crowded to see the camels eye them with camel disdain. The
camels were in a foul mood; for those packs were heavy.”
“And did you see the Sheik meet the
Prince?”
“I did.”
“What did they say? Tell me every
word!”
* * * * *
The horseman at the gate said, “I am
Prince Rahnraygunaurobindo, but my friends call me Prince Rahni. Who are you?”
The horseman arriving said, “I am
Sheik Rudollah Kahmunni. My friends call me Merchant, my enemies call me
Smuggler. What do you want?”
“I hear that you traffick in rugs,
hangings, and tapestries from far Persia.”
Sheik Kahmunni said smoothly, “One
must not credit every rumor one hears. For if I, a poor merchant, possessed
priceless multicolored gems of weaving, each bolt a lifetime of labor, then how
could I escape being noticed by the highwayman?”
“Or the taxman?” Prince Rahni asked.
“Either one! Only a master smuggler
could bring such treasures so far! But how could I, a poor yet honest merchant,
achieve such a feat?” the Sheik asked.
“Where there’s a will, then no doubt
there’s a way.”
“No doubt! And what do you offer as
incentive for such enterprise?”
Prince Rahni replied, “I have hemp
fiber; thread, ropes, and cloth. In bulk lots.”
Sheik Kahmunni looked bored. “And?”
“And flowering tops,” said Prince
Rahni. “In bulk.”
Sheik Kahmunni nodded slowly. “And?”
“And rare and precious spices from a
distant land. In bulk.”
“Ha. Hm. An interesting offer. Just
what spices are these?”
Prince Rahni laughed; and he
dismounted. Sheik Kahmunni followed suit. The Prince said, “Come, O guest. Let
us dine together, so that you may taste for yourself.”
The Prince led the Sheik and his
retinue through the palace gate.
* * * * *
“- and that was all I saw,” said
Ramanujan.
“I saw them in the banquet room,”
said Namagiri. “They came in through the West Corridor. The Prince pointed
towards a dias covered with pillows, low tables, and servant girls waving fans.
I was there, scrubbing a far corner of the floor, so I heard everything.”
“What did they say? Tell me every
word!”
* * * * *
The Prince said, “Recline here with me, partake of our food
and our spices.”
The Sheik nodded, smiling; but when
he got to the dias he looked down at its rug and frowned critically.
“Oh! The carpet!” said Prince Rahni,
dismayed. “No doubt that old rag is barely fit to sling over one of your
camels!”
“I would never say such a thing, O
Host,” Sheik Kahmunni said smoothly. “But fortunately for both of us, it just
so happens that I do need a camel rag, and what is more, here is a
replacement!” He snapped his fingers; one of his retinue came foreward, bowed
deeply, and proffered an elaborately detailed carpet. “You may have it gratis,
as a sample of my wares.”
“But... it’s stunning! Beautiful!”
“The first one's free,” the Sheik
explained with an ingratiating smile.
The exchange was made quickly, in a
flurry of tables and pillows. The serving girls quickly installed the glorious
new Persian carpet on the dias. “This is really quite generous,” Prince Rahni
said as they settled down.
“It is nothing; for you shall soon
see others far finer.”
“And you may inspect our fiber,
rope, and cloth. Consider that napkin; feel how soft it is! And here, you see,
is a spool of our thread.”
The Sheik inspected a length of the
thread, tugged at it. “Strong. And the ropes?”
“I will show them after dinner. But
now...” and Prince Rahni clapped his hands.
A serving-girl came and set out a
large water-pipe; then she opened a small box and showed the contents to the
Sheik. He nodded. The serving-girl loaded up the pipe, then excused herself to
retrieve a lit taper. Prince Rahni and Sheik Kahmunni inhaled; the water in the
pipe gurgled loud and long. They exhaled great clouds of smoke.
Sheik Kahmunni smiled and said, “I
suddenly have a ravenous appetite.”
Prince Rahni smiled back. “Then it
is now time for our meal!” He clapped; serving girls brought dishes. “These are
various spiced delicacies. We imported the spices from a place far east of
here.” The Sheik raised an inquiring eyebrow, and Prince Rahni said
disingenuously, “The Spice Isles.” (The Sheik quietly noted this as a topic
worth further investigation.) The Prince said, “These dishes contain pepper,
cardamom, coriander, turmeric, ginger, mustard, cinnamon, and garlic. And here
is one of our specialties.” Prince Rahni lifted the top off a small spice pot,
to reveal yellow powder. “Certain of these spices, combined in certain
proportions, yield this, our favorite flavoring. We call it curry. Try it over
rice.” He mixed a pinch of curry into a spoonful of rice, and ate it.
The Sheik took three spoonfuls of
rice; then, before Prince Rahni could stop him, dumped over it an entire
spoonful of the Prince’s potent curry. He mixed it in thoroughly, until the
rice glowed a blazing bright yellow.
* * * * *
“Oh no!” Ramanujan cried.
“Don’t worry, the Prince managed to
prevent disaster,” Namagiri said. “He stopped the Sheik to tell him that we
have a ... little ritual.” And Namagiri smiled in the dark. “He called it the
‘Rite of the True Curry’.”
“And what might this rite be?”
* * * * *
Prince Rahni explained, “The
practitioner eats some curry, then closes his eyes. Then he opens his eyes,
crosses them, blinks rapidly, and weeps.”
“One weeps on command?” the Sheik
said, puzzled. “By custom? Duty?”
“By inner impulse,” said Prince
Rahni. “Then one utters a vowel.”
“And what vowel might that be?”
“Usually ‘aaaaa’ will do. Then one
invokes the gods. Fervently.”
“Such piety,” the Sheik said, still
not getting it.
“Then one must drink some water.”
“Do you sip or swallow?”
“You guzzle, very very quickly, one,
two, three goblets of water; and true devotees will drain the pitcher itself.
Girl, fill this pitcher,” he ordered. As the serving girl did so, the Prince
said, “Then you may eat some of this cucumber-in-yoghurt; or even chew some of
these anise seeds.”
“Blink, weep, utter vowel, invoke
gods, drink water, eat yoghurt, chew anise,” Sheik Kahmunni recited. “Is that
all?”
“The ritual concludes with a short
fervent hymn of thanksgiving.”
“How very very quaint,” the Sheik said
smoothly. Then he lifted his spoon and gulped down his overcurried rice.
* * * * *
Ramanujan said, “What happened
then?”
Namagiri said, “Well... first he
closed his eyes.”
“Yes?”
“Then he opened his eyes.”
“Were they crossed?”
“Yes. He blinked rapidly, weeping
freely.”
“Did the Sheik perform the rest of
the Rite of the True Curry?”
“Yes; and he did so sincerely,
spontaneously, and enthusiastically,” said Namagiri. “Afterwards, the Sheik
told the Prince that his curry was a hot item indeed.”
* * *
Soon the courses were all done, and
the dishes all taken away. Prince Rahni sighed heavily, then said, “Very well,
let us deal! How many carpets do you have to offer?”
Sheik Kahmunni said, “My weaving‑women
are as numerous as the trees of the forest, and as tireless as wind and tide.
Our carpets are countless; they pile to the ceilings, overflowing our
innumerable warehouses. And how much of this fine fiber do you have, suitable
for dyeing and weaving into my humble carpets?”
Prince Rahni said, “My kingdom is as
broad as the trackless sky; within it are numberless farms, in each of which
grows indefinitely many hemp plants. Surely I could produce for you as much
fiber as there is water in the sea.”
“And I could produce for you as many
carpets as there are sand-grains in the desert,” replied the Sheik.
“A fine prospect for us both!”
“Agreed,” said the Sheik. “But there
is one slight snag; a matter of accounting. Both our reserves are tremendous,
stupendous. But exactly how tremendous? Just precisely how
stupendous?”
Prince Rahni said, “I see your
point. I say I have infinitely much fiber and spices; you say you have
infinitely many carpets and tapestries. But which infinity is greater? And even
if they are both infinite enough to satisfy both parties, will they be infinite
enough to cover the infinite overhead of the deal itself?”
Sheik Kahmunni said, “Only Heaven is
infinite! We are but mortals; our resources are finite; our days are numbered;
so are our goods. If we but tally up our holdings, then perhaps we can ensure
fair dealing.”
Prince Rahni said, “But what numbers
exist that are large enough to describe how rich both of us are? A thousand
carpets? A myriad bales of rope? Ten myriad spools of thread? I don't know any
numbers big enough, do you?”
The Prince and the Sheik
contemplated this, along with the carpet they sat on.
Prince Rahni said, “Perhaps we
should consult my computer...”
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