Rampa Lobsang - The Thirteenth Candle

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EXPLANATION

‘The Thirteenth Candle?’ Well, it is meant to be a logicaltitle derived from what I am trying to do. I am trying to‘light a candle’ which is far better than ‘cursing the dark-ness’. This is my thirteenth book which, I hope, will be myThirteenth Candle.You may think it is a very little candle, perhaps one of those birthday-cake candles. But I have never had a cake of any kind with candles—never even had a birthday cake!—and now with my restricted sugar-free, low-residue diet of not more than a thousand calories is too late to bother.So indulge me; let's pretend that this Is ‘The ThirteenthCandle’ even though it be as small as the candle on a doll'sbirthday cake.

CHAPTER ONE

Mrs. Martha MacGoohoogly strode purposefully to herkitchen door, a tattered scrap of newspaper clutched in aham-like hand. Outside, in the parched patch of weed-covered ground which served as ‘back garden’ she stoppedand glared around like a cross bull in the mating seasonawaiting the advent of rivals. Satisfied—or disappointed—that there were no rivals for attention in the offing, shehurried to the broken-down fence defining the gardenlimits.Gratefully propping her more than ample bosom on aworm-eaten post, she shut her eyes and opened her mouth.‘Hey, Maud!’ she roared across the adjoining gardens, hervoice echoing and reverberating from the nearby factorywall. ‘Hey, Maud, where are ya ?’ Closing her mouth andopening her eyes she stood awaiting the results.From the direction of the next-house-but-one came thesound of a plate dropping and smashing, and then thekitchen door of THAT house opened and a small, scraggywoman came hopping out, agitatedly wiping her hands onher ragged apron. ‘Well?’ she growled dourly. ‘What d'yawant?’‘Hey, Maud, you seen this?’ yelled back Martha as shewaved the tattered piece of newsprint over her head.‘How do I know if I seen it if I haven't seen it first?’snorted Maud. ‘I might a done, then, on the other hand, Imight not. What is it, anyhow another sex scandal?’Mrs. Martha MacGoohoogly fumbled in the pocket of herapron and withdrew large horn-rimmed spectacles lavishlybesprinkled with small stones. Carefully she wiped theglasses on the bottom of her skirt before putting them onand patting her hair in place over her ears. Then noisilywiping her nose on the back of her sleeve, she yelled out,7

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