Literature of the month Kim by Rudyard Kipling
Kim laughed.“ He is new. Run to your mothers’ laps, and be safe. Come!” Kim clicked round the self-registering turnstile; the old man followed and halted amazed. In the entrance-hall stood the larger figures of the Greco-Buddhist sculptures done, savants know how long since, by forgotten workmen whose hands were feeling, and not unskilfully, for the mysteriously transmitted Grecian touch. There were hundreds of pieces, friezes of figures in relief, fragments of statues and slabs crowded with figures that had encrusted the brick walls of the Buddhist stupas and viharas of the North Country and now, dug up and labelled, made the pride of the Museum. In open-mouthed wonder the lama turned to this and that, and finally checked in rapt attention before a large alto-relief representing a coronation or apotheosis of the Lord Buddha. The Master was represented seated on a lotus the petals of which were so deeply undercut as to show almost detached. Round Him was an adoring hierarchy of kings, elders, and oldtime Buddhas. Below were lotus-covered waters with fishes and water-birds. Two butterfly-winged dewas held a wreath over His
head; above them another pair supported an umbrella surmounted by the jewelled headdress of the Bodhisat.“ The Lord! The Lord! It is Sakya Muni himself,” the lama half sobbed; and under his breath began the wonderful Buddhist invocation:“ To Him the Way- the Law- Apart Whom Maya held beneath her heart Ananda’ s Lord- the Bodhisat.“ And He is Here! The Most Excellent Law is here also! My pilgrimage is well begun. And what work! What work!”“ Yonder is the Sahib,” said Kim, and dodged sideways among the cases of the arts and manufacture wing. A white-bearded Englishman was looking at the lama, who gravely turned and saluted him and after some fumbling drew forth a notebook and a scrap of paper.“ Yes, that is my name,” smiling at the clumsy, childish print.“ One of us who had made pilgrimage to the Holy Placeshe is now Abbot of the Lung-Cho Monastery- gave it me, stammered the lama.” He spoke of these.” His lean hand moved tremulously round. " Welcome, then, O lama from Tibet. Here be the images, and I am here”- he glanced at the lama’ s face-“ to gather knowledge. Come to my office awhile.” The old man was trembling with excitement.
The doon mozaic