“That’s very interesting,” said Ping.
* * *
Ping’s mother came home, became hysterical again and had to be sedated and re-admitted to hospital. Ping’s father was charged with heroin trafficking and denied bail. They didn’t see him again before they had to fly back to Xian’yang to continue their studies.
Otherwise there was Aixia. She was determined to inject some frivolity into the tragic mess her friend was being forced to endure. Most of her solution involved alcohol. The rest relied heavily on ad-lib declarations of undying love whilst intoxicated and giggled reminders of past transgressions, the exact nature of which Tashi was too frightened to attempt to guess.
Aixia was able to create the temporary illusion of being back in school, teenagers getting ready to go to a party. Everything was in front of them. Anything and everything that had nothing to do with heroin, police, drug couriers or jail cells.
THREE - THE ORACLE OF SINGH MA
The flight back to Xian’yang was very turbulent. Tashi was sure they weren’t going to survive despite Ping’s calm assurances that turbulence was normal. He sat in a window seat and watched in horror as the plane’s wings seemed to flap. He waited for them to break off but miraculously the plane held together and eventually its undercarriage kissed the runway hello.
He was very happy to get his feet back onto something solid. Now he understood why people kissed the ground when they were finally liberated from a death trap like the one he was certain had been about to snuff out their young lives.
Once back in their familiar environment, the memories of their experiences in Hong Kong took on a surreal, dreamlike quality, as if they hadn’t actually happened.
Ping would have given anything to wake up from what was easily the worst nightmare she’d ever had. How could they accuse her father of being a criminal? And not just a corporate criminal but a drug trafficker. The implications were almost as unbearable as they were unfair.
Fortunately none of their friends knew anything about what had happened and after being back in her routine for a few days, she was able to consign the entire incident into a slightly less immediately disturbing category. Ping was certain her father would be cleared of any wrong doing and within days had immersed herself back into student life.
Over the next term the news wasn’t good. Her mother’s condition deteriorated. Communication yielded nothing concerning her father’s predicament. Silver linings remained elusive.
Tashi also immersed himself in his studies.
One of the great things about teeth is that almost everybody has some and they are an anomaly in an otherwise well designed, functionally efficient human body. Evolution had been particularly negligent in choosing them as the primary processing equipment for the vital function of eating.
In the current dietary reality, teeth are the source of extreme pain in anybody who neglects their welfare. Tashi found them fascinating. They were so vital to a person’s health and yet most people preferred to ignore them until the consequences became unbearable. The modern western style diet had invaded China as convincingly as any other imperial phenomenon in history.
McDonalds and KFC stores competed with Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts to wreak havoc in the mouths of people who thought that being seen frequenting these purveyors of salt, sugar and fat was fashionable, a sign of sophistication and status. They were the worst thing that could ever have happened to the concept of dental health. Neither of his parents had ever suffered from tooth decay, but dentistry was an industry that was growing more rapidly than any other sector in an economy that was doubling every five years.
Pollution, greed and rotten teeth were the inevitable consequences of modern living. They were the price that had to be paid so China could become the super-power it rightfully always had been and he intended to be part of the solution to the problem. He had chosen a profession that granted quality of life to people who would otherwise suffer horribly. Dentistry was compassionate and essential.
Ping disagreed. She thought teeth were like plumbing, a necessary evil that should be left to somebody else. Studying teeth steadfastly failed to qualify as an intellectual pursuit on her list of academic imperatives. She tried to convince Tashi that he should become a lawyer or a doctor or anything that wasn’t as practical and boring as a dentist.
But despite this they continued to enjoy every moment they could steal from the stifling jaws of academia. Their relationship flourished and, as the term approached its inevitable end, a plan to visit Tashi’s family was reaching fruition in Ping’s mind.
Tashi’s mind was less enthusiastic. He wasn’t ashamed of his family but he didn’t think they would appreciate Ping or she them.
* * *
Ping and Tashi met every Tuesday afternoon in the park near the library, when they both had an hour of free time before their next lecture. When Ping arrived one afternoon fresh from an Archeology tutorial, she had a picture of an object that bore a remarkable resemblance to the one in her father’s painting.
“It’s the Oracle of Singh Ma,” she announced proudly.
“No, it doesn’t look anything like that,” Tashi lied.
“Of course it does,” affirmed Ping. “This is what’s in my father’s painting. I recognised it immediately.”
“The thing I found has pictures etched into it.”
“Even better. The Oracle of Singh Ma is a legendary symbol. It predates the Bon religion.”
“What’s the Bon religion?” asked Tashi.
“It was the dominant Tibetan religion before Buddhism arrived.”
“I thought Buddhism originated in Tibet,” said Tashi, slightly affronted by the suggestion that the pre-eminent cultural icon of his homeland hadn’t originated there.
“Buddhism came from India,” Ping informed him. “It was introduced into Tibet by Padma Sambhava, a Buddhist saint in the seventh or eighth century.”
“Are you sure?” Tashi asked in disbelief.
“Of course I’m sure. The Buddha was an Indian Prince. He was born in modern day Nepal. He wasn’t Tibetan.”
“Yes he was,” said Tashi stubbornly.
“What, so you’re a Buddhist now?”
“No. I don’t believe in ancient superstition.”
“I’m pleased to hear that,” countered Ping.
“So this oracle thing is really ancient?” asked Tashi attempting to steer the conversation away from his freshly exposed cultural ignorance.
“It’s at least 5,000 years old. Probably even older.”
“Give me another look,” he said.
Ping flicked through the pages of her book and arrived back at the picture.
“Yes, that’s it,” confirmed Tashi. “But I’ve only got half of it.”
“Where’s the other half?”
“I don’t know. I took one half and my friend Wen took the other. I haven’t seen him since I was about twelve. His family had lots of problems and they moved away from our village.”
“Well if you’ve got half of the Oracle of Singh Ma, it will still be a very significant discovery.”
“It’s probably not the original.”
“What’s it made of?”
“It’s some kind of really hard crystal. I don’t know. I’d never seen anything like it. Is it supposed