I need to involve myself with something larger than me, W. says. With some kind of greater cause. Something I could live for – that would envelop all of my life. Something I could die for – can I imagine that? A cause that I might die for?
Actually, W. has always suspected that I am something of a fanatic – that if I found my cause- some kind of monstrous Hindu cause, then the maniac within would at last find release. I would go on some mad jihad to bring the apocalypse, W. says.
He sees me in his mind's eye, W. says, wading through blood, grinning. He sees me, like a child soldier gone beserk in the jungle. He sees me, laughing with blood-stained teeth, like a hyena feasting on a corpse. He sees me, blood running back into my mouth as I laugh ,,,
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