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busy village. Unseen, they continue down a back alley, following a concrete wall that blocks the alleyway between the building. Passing fly-infested garbage that smells both appealing and appalling, they come to a bamboo ladder, which Bandar climbs up quickly, signaling to follow. Grasping the ladder, the man gradually makes his way up, coming to the top and stepping out onto the roof, where Bandar sits, watching the busy town below. They sit on the edge, hidden by the dark skies. Firecrackers ring out in strident and persistent bangs as people crowd the busy, narrow streets buying and selling, dancing, and drinking, snapping pictures of each other against a river ablaze with floating candles under a sign that reads, “Happy Diwali.” Diwali, is the large festival celebrated in India signifying when Lord Rama came out of the jungle after fourteen years, victorious over the evils he battled against. A holiday of gift giving, of lights lining the houses and adding color to the towns, and torched candle lights that burn into the night amid battle-like fireworks that pop off in a constant fury.
    “Here we are, friend,” Bandar says, watching the fireworks spread across the sky in a stunning performance.
    Smiling, but ill at ease, Paul holds his arms as the night winds chill his near-naked flesh. Bandar descends the roof. Paul as he sniffles a runny nose, watches the monkey vanish. A few moments pass and Bandar swings back atop the roof, heaving a tan, cotton, and long-sleeved shirt, with matching pants adorned with wooden buttons.
    “Where did you get these?” Paul asks, in wonder of how his small body could even carry the clothes up to him.
    “These people are so caught up, they are no match for the stealth monkey,” Bandar replies, assuming a kung fu-like pose before dropping down again out of sight. A pair of nicely made, leather, sandals is heaved up, followed by Bandar. “Here. Now you can go off to your people nicely clothed, as they prefer.”
    Putting on the clothes and sandals, Paul feels warm and new, as if he had never worn clothes before.
    “Thank you, Bandar, I can’t express how much your kindness means to me.”
    Bandar blows off the compliment, “Monkeys are brothers to everyone,” he explains as he sits next to Paul, who looks out into the crazy streets of celebration.
    “Although Rakesh is old and bitter, most monkeys respect that all are our brothers: not just our fellow monkeys but humans too, and the trees and the rocks, everything. We live among our brothers always. Your people have forgotten this,” he says, looking out into the sea of confusion.
    “You are very wise for such a young monkey,” Paul says, surprised to hear such wisdom from Bandar.
    “This I have learned from the wise Kavi, who lives deep in the jungle.”
    “Kavi?”
    “Yes Bahi, Kavi teaches us. Kavi is tapped into the source of all things and has great wisdom.”
    Looking out into the town again, Paul feels anxious. He sees beggars pleading for money, some missing limbs and some disfigured and sickly in other ways. He sees a look of desperation through a false joy that people seem to be wearing as masks. “I don’t relate to these people at all. I am not this.”
    “These are your brothers, Bahi,” Bandar says.
    “What is Bahi?”
    “You are Bahi,” Bandar says with a smile. “You are my brother, and this you should teach to your lost brethren. “
    “But I must find out who I am, truly, in order to do this, or else I fear I will be lost in this sea of suffering and confusion before me.”
    “Go, Bahi, be with your brothers. You will forever be remembered as my great friend, Bahi, the one who talked to the monkeys,” Bandar says as he stands up and walks toward the latter.
    “Bahi, I like that,” he thinks as he rises up to thank Bandar, resolving to use this name. Descending the ladder, they come to the back alley once again. They peer out between the shops, and Bahi cases the hectic market streets.
    Bang