After that first
day, Sanyal seemed to take no special interest in Ajay, yet from
time to time Ajay felt the novice-master closely watching him, and
as the months went by, Sanyal's promise to him became a reality: he
was learning to do easily what had seemed impossible; he was
becoming expert, and soon he was promoted from freshman to
sophomore. This meant that Sanyal was no longer his housemaster; but
it also meant that they could now treat each other as friends, and
whenever there was a holiday, the two young ospreys flew off
together, wheeling and looping, sliding down the wind, and chasing
one another in the brilliant air. At such times, free from the daily
routine, Ajay keenly remembered his glimpse of the Infinite, and a
great longing for It seized him; nothing else seemed to have the
least significance.
At the end of
Ajay's junior year at the Himalayan College he had an experience of
quite a different kind. He had become as adept in aerial acrobatics
as any student and, for that matter, any instructor barring Sanyal,
whose flying skills were unsurpassed and seemingly unsurpassable. To
the intense displeasure of the seniors, Ajay was judged fit to
graduate with them, skipping his final year. It was obligatory, of
course, that he take the display examinations with the graduating
class. Sanyal urged him to do so, and Ajay himself, eager to start
his career in the world as an accredited performer, felt elated by
the chance, but he was nervous as well, for the older birds, against
whom he would compete, still dazzled him with their own growing
expertise particularly the falcons, and among the falcons,
particularly the one that Sanyal three years earlier had called
that show off. His name was Ahmad.
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