Through the confused chorus of bird cries and insect noises, a mynah was chanting, “Karuna. Karuna…” “Karuna,” Lakshmi repeated. “Compassion…” “Karuna. Karuna,” the oboe voice of Buddha insisted from the garden. “I shan’t be needing it much longer,” she went on. “But what about you? Poor Robert, what about you?” “Somehow or other one finds the necessary strength,” he said. “But will it be the right kind of strength? Or will it be the strength of armor, the strength of shut-offness, the strength of being absorbed in your work and your ideas and not caring a damn for anything else? Remember how
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