The fog had dispersed by the time Robbie strolled across Durbar Square. Its vast opulence and scores of temples seemed, to him at least, to float in another time altogether. For a moment, Robbie glimpsed what his father might have seen, twenty-five years earlier. A blind musician sat cross-legged on a small podium, in front of the Hanuman Dokha, the Royal Palace. The young man sat facing the sun and was belting out a popular Hindi tune, tapping out wildly syncopated rhythms on his tablas. A few passers-by, on their way to work, stopped to listen.
As Robbie hung about, slumped on his small backpack, lost in music and the incredible concentration of sacred real estate that dotted the square, a sadhu caught his attention.
“Hallo, my friend.”
Robbie nodded up at the Hindu holy man. In India
