Of course, Ganesh's mount is a rat, I tell W. You'll see him in icons nibbling from his own tiny platter of food. And you'll read of him as Ganesh's assistant, venturing into those places where the god himself cannot go.
Ah yes, Ganesh is one of W.'s favourite gods, he says. He seems very jolly, and he's a little fat, he likes that. He likes Ganesh's little round belly, which reminds him of mine, though my belly is in no way little.
Ganesh's rat gives him advice, too, I tell W. It was from him that he received the advice that let him beat his brother, the god of war, in a race to circumnavigate the universe. Shiva, their father, had set them the challenge. Off Kumari went to race round everything that existed. But Ganesh's rat advised his master simply to circle his parents: they're your universe, he said. So that's what he did, winning himself the title 'Lord of Auspicious Beginnings'.
What are my rats whispering to me?, W. wonders. What advice do the give me, as they scamper under the floorboards? Stop at once! Don't even think of beginning! I'm the Lord of Fucked-up Beginnings, W. says.
And of course, Ganesh's rat is the guardian of the Wishing Jewel, by whose magic its owner can be granted any wish. The men who possessed it turned on each other. They fought, they died, whole generations fell like corn. They fought, they died … Man became prey to man: perhaps that's when it began, the Fall, W. muses. Perhaps that's when the Fall began, with power, with man becoming a wolf to man.
What does a rat wish for?, W. wonders. They want only an end to chewing. They want only a warm nest and some other rats to play with, and to bask in the sun like their brothers and sisters at the temple of Deshnok.
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