INT. MONASTERY LIBRARY. DAY
Hana plays. A GUNSHOT punctuates the music. Her hands falter, she looks up to see A SIKH SOLDIER running past the GAPING HOLE IN THE WALL, his rifle held aloft. He approaches the French doors, his face creased with anxiety, and raps on the shattered frame. It's KIP, the bomb disposal officer who had cleared the road on which Jan's jeep had exploded.
KIP: Stop playing! Please, stop playing!
HANA (of the doors): I don't have the key to that door.
She watches him walk around from the locked doors and walk straight through the hole in the wall, oblivious to any irony, and up to the piano.
KIP: The Germans were here. The Germans were all over this area. They left mines everywhere. And pianos were their favorite hiding places.
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HANA: I see. Sorry. (then mischievous) Then maybe you're safe as long as you only play Bach. He's German. |
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Kip is looking around the piano. Hana giggles. KIP: Is something funny? |
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HANA: No, I'm sorry. KIP: I've met you before. HANA: I don't think so. KIP: Look. See. See. Touch this, and no more Bach.
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Hana bends to see what Kip's looking at under the piano. Wires run from the wall to the instrument onto which is taped an EXPLOSIVE CHARGE. If Hana had succeeded in moving the piano she would have triggered the charge.. Kip looks at Hana, who conceals her dismay with a shrug.
NT. THE PATIENT'S ROOM. DUSK
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Hana looks down from the Patient's room, watching the tents go up. Kip glances up at the window. Hana, suddenly shy, backs away. HANA: He wants us to move out, says there could be fifty more mines in the building. He thinks I'm mad because I laughed at him. He's Indian, he wears a turban. THE PATIENT: No, he's Sikh. If he wears a turban, he's Sikh. |
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HANA: I'II probably marry him.
THE PATIENT: Really? That's sudden.
HANA: My mother always told me I would summon my husband by playing the piano.
EXT. THE MONASTERY, HANA'S GARDEN. DAY
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HANA is gardening, close to the crucifix, which is now a full-fledged Scarecrow. Broken bottles, fragments of stained glass, and shards from a mirror are hung from the crossbar, syringes too, all jangling and tinkling and catching the sunlight. Kip and Hardy drive off to work on their motorcycles. She watches them, catching Kip's careless wave to her. She looks briefly at herself in a piece of mirror dangling from the Scarecrow. |
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