THREEMOST of the people living in the hills did not worship Kali or any Hindu god. All they had in their place were good or bad spirits called bhuts, who lived in the bodies of animals, in the rivers and lakes and forests, and especially in trees. Their usual way of driving off the bad ones and welcoming the good ones was to hold a big feast of deer and wild-pig meat and to drink palm toddy until even the little children danced with joy. As for cutting their own tribespeople’s throats to please them, they would not dream of anything so wicked.
But among the Hindu gods was one who delighted my heart. The more that Manu told me about him, the more I wanted him for my own.
His name was Krishna and his business was herding cattle. He carried some kind of flute, on which he was always playing
