that have not been released to the masses.â
Josè seemed to be hit by a thought. âIn south America they talk about a monster that many consider extraterrestrial...â
Riccardo quickly beat him. âThe chupacabra... yes, they're Reptilians.â
He looked around and decided that it was necessary to explain better. âFor some decades in the area there have been reports about attacks on livestock, especially horses, cattle and goats. The animals are strangely mutilated surgically, as no beast of prey could do and only certain organs are missing: usually genitals, rectum, or udders or eyes. Often they're completely bled but there's no trace of blood around the body. Just one or three holes generally on the neck or the chest of the victim, more or less as large as a human finger; sometimes marks on the back legs that make you think that the animal has been transported from a different place relative to the place where it was found. There aren't other signs neither of violence that could explain in which way the animal was slaughtered and there aren't human footprints, or predatory beasts, nor of vehicles and no sign from the animals of resistance, but there have been measured high levels of radioactivity and traces found of fluorescent substances.â
Taking advantage of Riccardo's pause, Giuliano intervened. "In the areas affected by these mysterious and macabre events, often there have been seen unidentified flying objects and strange beings that looked like enormous lizards that walk like kangaroos. All witnesses described a strong scent of sulfur, red shiny eyes and an acute hissing sound that causes nausea and might have hypnotic effects.â
I looked at my watch. It was nearly two in the morning.
âOkay, you've been creeping me out enough for today,â I concluded with a pulled smile. The spell broke and everyone looked immediately more relaxed.
âRight,â Nirva said. âI think we all should go to bed... and let's hope not to have nightmares!â
We all laughed and emptied our glasses before we got up and went back to our rooms.
âI suggest we all take it easy tomorrow, and maybe visit the city...â the doctor said. âNot only we need it after a long flight, but it will also give the impression that we're just common tourists to whoever may watch us.â
âSure,â Josè said. âThis is our holiday and even though we also have a mission in Nepal - find Govindananda and make him explain his mysterious dedication - we have all the time to relax and have a look around the place. It would be a pity to waste the chance.â
Riccardo nodded. âWe'll be happy to be your tour guide; I have been to India many times. And if you want we could check the tiny book the monk gave you and maybe we could help you solve the mystery...â
âGod knows!â It seemed quite a good idea, after all.
Contrary to what I feared, I didn't have any problem falling asleep and I didn't have any nightmares about red eyes or big vampire lizards that smelled like sulfur.
But I had a strange dream anyway. It felt like the sequel of the one I had during my first visit in Nepal, in 1991.
I was again lying naked sunbathing in a cornfield, on a carpet made of rose petals. Suddenly a woman's voice started to sing Hindu songs and I sat up straight with my legs crossed, my hands leaning on my knees in a yoga position... palms up, thumb and index finger united.
This time, just one man came in my presence: he looked like the boy I met in the Good Food restaurant in Kathmandu. He gave me a letter and disappeared. In the dream, I opened immediately the letter and read it, You were a butterfly, I looked for you, I found you. We flew together, for a long time, do you remember?! Our lives pass quickly, but we can still fly.
I woke up startled, all sweaty. The sun was rising. Josè heard me moving and opened one eye. âIs everything fine, little monkey?â
âYes, my love, just a dream...â
He turned his back to me and I fell asleep again, cuddling up to him.
THE DISCOVERY OF DELHI
We got up quite late that morning; we were on holiday and didn't want to rush.
We met Nirvanananda and Max at the restaurant, for a quick brunch... We couldn't call it breakfast, quite after 11:30 am. A kind and smiling waiter brought us a menu in English and we studied it for several minutes before ordering. There were three sections - Indian, Chinese and Continental. Josè and Maximilian confabulated for a while and laughed a little. In the end we ordered French toasts with apples and vanilla, Double-decker sandwich that unfortunately resulted non-vegetarian, Cheese bread rolls, Tossed salad and Vegetable stew. We excluded the Breakfast sausage casserole (the dish that raised the most irony in Josè), the Pasta âall'arabiattaâ, with one r, one b and two t to compensate, the English pickled onions and the Mushroom with tomato and white wine sauce, which didn't sound that good. The Lasagna in the menu wasn't available so we didn't insist further, but we asked for an assortment of fresh fruit juice, tea and milk served separately and a big thermos of hot black American coffee.
While we were trying different pseudo-occidental specialties, Riccardo and Giuliano joined us.
âWe talked to the travel agency of the hotel,â the doctor said. âA private hotel car will drive us around to visit the most interesting places of the city and then tomorrow we can calmly go to the internal flight airport; there are direct flights from Delhi to Kathmandu every day, at 7:30 am and 1:40 pm with Indian Airlines. They arrive respectively at 9:10 am and 3:25 pm, with enough time to complete the formalities of the local visa and settle down in the hotel before visiting the city.â
âGreat,â Josè said. âWe'll be very glad to let you accompany us.â
Giuliano got the menu; he quickly scrolled it, and then ordered a 'Masala dosa' for both, with chai and Plain dahi and Jalebi for dessert.
The waiter understood immediately, smiled and hurried to the kitchen. In less than five minutes later he came back with two colleagues, bringing with him two huge crispy rolls filled with potatoes with an appetizing look, two small plates with strange golden hoops soaked in syrup, various bowls of what looked like sauces and cups of steaming hot Indian tea.
I had already finished my French Toast - sliced bread dipped beaten egg and pan-fried - with cooked apples, but I left the sweetish round sandwiches filled with cheese spread, the unidentified vegetables and the withered salad to order âwhat they had orderedâ, followed by the rest of the group.
The doctor and Riccardo smiled. âWhen you go abroad, it's always better to choose the local dishes from the menu. At least you hope they can cook them... few Indians go abroad and the cooks often adapt recipes from books according to their imagination, the available ingredients and according to the taste of the majority of their customers... which are Indians.â
I watched them whilst they were eating their gigantic rolls using their hands without embarrassment and I realized that it really was the easiest way to do it. We found out that the Masala Dosa was served with two accompanying bowls, containing a delicious coconut Chatni and a quite liquid pulse soup called Sambar. The local Anglo-Indian name of the thick plain yogurt was Plain Dahi.
I was tempted to have second helpings, but I held back. I moved on to the Jalebi: the syrup was sweet in an inebriating way and tasted of saffron and butter... the golden hoops were crispy light twists made of fried pastry that still contained warm syrup. I licked my fingers without shame... then I rinsed them in the small bowls of tepid water that in the meantime had arrived and that I had seen our friends using just before.
At the end of the meal we got up satisfied and we left full of enthusiasm to explore the capital... The Tata Sumo of the hotel was waiting for us at the entrance: it was more like a minibus than a car. Giuliano took leave from us saying that he needed to make some phone calls, Riccardo got on the large front seat next to the driver, Josè and I got comfy on the back seat that