He arrived at the hour when even the crows were still drowsy. Phalguni had just lit the lamp at the tulsi katte when she heard the gate latch lift.
A young man stood at the entrance to the courtyard. He was perhaps twenty-eight, slim, with the polite hesitance of a person who had travelled a long way. He wore a clean white kurta. He held a small cloth bag in one hand.
"Namaskara," he said. "I am looking for Ramakrishna Bhattaru's house."
"You have found it. Who are you?"
"My name is Kashi. Ganapathi Bhatta sent me — your husband's cousin, in Sirsi. He said your husband would not mind teaching me. I wish to learn the old style of cooking. He said to come without waiting for a reply."
Phalguni considered him for a moment. He had the face of a young man one might meet at any wedding in any town. His voice was steady. His shoes were dusty from a long walk. He looked exactly like what he claimed to be. And Ganapathi Bhatta of Sirsi was, after all, family — even if her husband and his cousin had not spoken in three years.
"Come in," she said. "Wait on the verandah. I shall call my husband."
She walked into the kitchen. Ramakrishna was at the stove, frying mustard seeds in oil for the morning's dal.
"There is a young man at the gate. He says Ganapathi sent him. He wants to learn cooking."
Her husband turned. His face, which had been still with concentration, broke into a slow smile — the particular smile he wore when something pleased him deeply but he did not yet wish to say so aloud.
"Bring him in, Phalguni. Sit him on the verandah. I shall make him kashaya."
She nodded. She walked back to the gate. Her husband believed every man at his door to be a guest of the gods. She had always been the one who watched. That was the marriage they had built. He cooked for the world. She watched the world for him.
She opened the gate. "Come in, Kashi. My husband is expecting you."
Kashi smiled. He stepped into the courtyard with the modest air of a man who had finally reached his destination. He bent at the tulsi katte and offered his namaskara to the lamp.
Phalguni closed the gate behind him.
And Kashi, walking quietly toward the verandah, allowed himself one small, private breath of relief — for the first part of his real journey was over, and the second, the part for which he had truly been trained, was about to begin.