I must ask Marco about this, she reflected. There is so much—
Esther’s streaming thoughts were cut off midstream as the taxi came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. She looked around to see what happened but didn’t locate a stop sign or pedestrian. Then a loud “moo” caught her off guard. A cow ambled across the street and their path. A second and then a third followed the first.
Marco turned to her. He smiled knowingly—and with amusement.
After that encounter, Esther saw cows everywhere. They dominated the streets and sidewalks and walkways—when there were sidewalks and walkways. This was an urban setting, no farmland or barns anywhere to be seen, yet these creatures seemed to wander without restraint or care.
Where are the farmers? Who owns these cows? This is something else I must ask Marco about, she mused.
Esther looked inside the car and noticed the driver’s dashboard was covered with statuettes. A four-armed woman dressed in red sat cross-legged on a flower bed, and another four-armed figure, this one a man, painted all in blue, stood beside her. A third figure, all in gold, appeared to be dancing. Dangling from the mirror was a form with more arms than she could easily count. These were similar to the images she had seen in the Köln stand. However, there was not one of the elephant-headed man to whom she had been most drawn. Esther felt disappointed, but catching the driver’s face in his rearview mirror took her aback. A joyous expression of content met her gaze. A light shone from his eyes.
“Curious, so curious,” Esther whispered under her breath.
Turning her attention once more to the activities on the street, she noticed bizarre-looking men, sitting cross-legged against a tree, leaning against a wall, or walking slowly, either singly or in pairs. Long, thick locks, often flowing past their waists, covered these men’s heads. Their bones seemed to extend beyond their skin. Mostly barefoot, some wore skimpy cloths, while others were swathed to their toes. Every man wore the same ochre-colored material. In all cases the exposed parts of their bodies were covered in what appeared to be ash. A few had decorated their faces with bold yellow and red paint.
“They are sadhus,” Marco said, as though she had spoken this question and none of her earlier ones aloud. “Renunciates … holy men.” He smiled broadly.
The driver made a sharp left and took them away from what had appeared to be a major thoroughfare. He turned right twice. Each turn took them on to smaller and narrower and bumpier and dirtier streets. He made one more left, and they came to a stop in front of a striking sky-blue-colored building. Three stories tall and delicately ornate, it was built in a traditional European style with highly detailed arched windows. The sign over the central window included the lovely embroidery-like script but also announced in Hebrew letters the synagogue’s name.
It’s exactly like a beautifully decorated wedding cake with layer upon layer of white frosting, Esther thought.
Speaking that unusual language again, Marco appeared to ask the cab driver to wait, came around to open the door, and walked Esther to the gated front entrance. A woman, in a long flowing dress and scarf identical to the color of the building’s exterior, let them in. Her welcoming “shalom” echoed throughout the entryway. She beamed at Marco.
“I leave you in good hands,” Marco said with his gracious smile, nodding in the direction of this woman.
Of course, thought Esther, they know one another. Nothing should surprise me with this man.
Before he turned to leave, Marco said, “If I may … I would like to take you … on an exploration tomorrow. I believe this adventure will please you. Would you be available?” Knowing full well she had no plans.
“You will be able to explore Bombay … at another time … in other ways.”
The next morning Marco arrived promptly at nine, exactly when promised. Esther was waiting for him in the entryway on the narrow wooden bench, below the rustic balustrades and rich chandeliers, staged for this purpose. The pillars that bordered the room were nearly as colorful as the building’s façade. She stood outside the sanctuary, where the congregation of fifteen or sixteen people had gathered for the daily recital of morning prayer. While she had been waiting for him to appear, Esther tried to pay attention to the service, but the runaway thoughts in her own head were loud and disjointed.
“Good morning … Good morning,” he said jovially. “You are well?”
“Yes, thank you. I’m fine. I went to sleep immediately after I was taken to my room. I didn’t realize how thoroughly exhausted I was. I only awoke a short while ago. I did have some breakfast. Not surprisingly, I’m disoriented. Although I must admit, for the first time since I was quite young, I’m feeling excited. This is such an adventure—a wonderful adventure. I’m finally feeling as though this is where I am meant to be. The reasons still elude me, but—”
“Perhaps today will provide … clarity,” Marco responded. “Please … it is time we begin.”
Heading toward the front door, they left just as the congregation recited the conclusion of their morning prayer.
Ani ma’amin,
be’emuno shleymo
Bevias hamoshiach, ani ma’amin
Bevias hamoshiach, ma’amin ani.
Bevias hamoshiach, ani ma’amin
Bevias hamoshiach, ma’amin ani.
Ve’af al pi sheyismahmeha
im kol zeh achakeh lo
ve’af al pi sheyismahmeha
im kol zeh achakeh lo
im kol zeh, im kol zeh, achakeh lo
achakeh lo bechol yom sheyavo
im kol zeh, im kol zeh, achakeh lo
achakeh lo bechol yom sheyavo.
………………..
I believe
With perfect faith
In the coming of the messiah, I believe
I believe in the coming of the messiah
In the coming of the messiah, I believe
I believe in the coming of the messiah
And even though he may be delayed
Yet, still, I shall wait for him
And even though he may be delayed
Yet, still, I shall wait for him
Yet still, yet still, I shall wait for him
I shall wait every day for him to come
Yet still, yet still, I shall wait for him
I shall wait every day for him to come
Marco smiled. Ah, he thought, it is the Ani Ma’amin … a song of ultimate faith … of course … how fitting.
Without question … it is time …
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Neti …
Neti …
Neti …
Not this … Not that … Not the other.
“Ah … yes …” Marco continued, “I knew love once. I did.”
Marco was seated behind the wheel of a small-sized, rather sleek black car devoid of icons or images save for a strand of prayer beads made from 108 Rudraksha seeds draped over the rearview mirror. The rosary held an unadorned, four-inch wooden cross and a much smaller, intricately carved sandstone mouse.
“A mouse,” Esther queried, “how odd.”
Marco merely smiled.
They had been driving for more than two hours when Esther finally broached the subject of his priesthood. Curiosity about him had taken reign, and she wanted to learn how Marco had come to follow that path.
At the beginning of the drive, Esther had been fully engrossed, looking at everything and absorbing as much as she could. She was fascinated by these most unusual surroundings. Everything was fresh and novel and different and astonishing. But instead of trying to discover more about the outside and what she was seeing or where they were heading, Esther asked Marco about Marco.
He said, “There is no question it was the kind of love … like what you described … what you shared with this man … with Tadeusz. It was … yes … a love unlike what most people experience in a lifetime … in many lifetimes …”
At the mention of other lifetimes, Esther quickly turned he
r head toward him, quizzical. But she did not wish to interrupt. Most definitely, it was a question that must be set aside for later. She knew little about the lives of Catholic priests, and this revelation of a love and a passion fascinated her.
“This … I know … Of this I am in no doubt,” he continued.
“Ah … Maria Elena … my beautiful … beautiful Maria Elena. Cara mia … she brought me such joy. She did. We had known one another since we were young … merely children. Since … what seemed to be the beginning of time … our time.
“There was never a question … neither by her nor by me … no … no … not then … that we would be together … always. For those years we were together … since the moment we met … we were each other’s other half … the half completing the whole. The one that could finish sentences. The one who understood the other’s thoughts … and very being.
“Such a glorious gift we had. And we both recognized … fully … that this was the greatest gift one can be presented within a lifetime … in any lifetime.”
Esther’s eyes widened.
“But … and this is such a huge … and remains … a genuinely wrenching … but … my needs … they changed … and my desires … grew expansive. No … no … I hear what you are thinking. No … not for the knowledge and the taste of another woman … or any woman.
“It was never about someone else. There has never been … nor could there ever be … another woman.
“It was the questions that began to possess me … questions that started to consume me. Everything became about questions … and always questions seemingly without answers. These questions began to dominate me … pounding questions … of the unknowns … of here and now … and then … what? What then? And the whys. The fragility and elusiveness of life and … what began to appear as the mere illusion of life.
“The irrational always seeming to supersede the rational.”
Marco inhaled deeply. “And … at that time … when it became evident the only thing clear to me was that nothing was lucid. Well … then … I knew I had to leave. Leave Maria Elena and everything we had known and shared and all we had meant to one another. It was no longer enough. She was no longer enough.
“No one person … even this person … this most significant person … was enough.
“I have come to understand … and of this I am confident … individuals have different paths to follow … and they must be responsive and respectful of their true nature. For us … for each of us in this life … there is not one … not just one particular way … the correct way … the only way … to follow … to pursue … to live. There is not just the Catholic way or the Jewish way or the path of the Hindu or Muslim … or … it goes on and on. There are many paths. They are all correct and all so beautiful. Each individual must follow his … or her … own way … toward our own truth … whatever this happens to be. And wherever this happens to take us. Even if it leads … seemingly … away from the person we hold most dear.
“It is important … so very important … to understand we are all … every one of us … on the same course heading in the same direction … just … perhaps … doing things a little differently … or even very differently … from one another. But for the most part … and this is so true … very much … each wanting the same things … no matter what we call it or no matter why we call it what we do.
“Ah … look around you. While much seems different and unusual … there are countless links between this culture and ours. Many connections … similarities … they are just not perhaps on the surface. There is much that is the same although much appears so very unusual … in any case … on the outside … or from the outset … at first impression. However … you must understand … this is only on the surface … and this surface is an illusion. And must be understood as only an illusion.
“Yet so sadly … so sadly indeed … there are too many … far too many … humans who believe that one way … their way … is the only way … is better than another. This I have never understood … as it is the same … we are all really the same. Just … perhaps … just a little bit different.”
Marco sighed and turned to look at Esther—a fleeting sadness moved across his eyes.
“Ah … but I digress … I apologize … we were speaking of Maria Elena. Il mio amore, la mia Maria Elena … and me.
“I believe … I must acknowledge that not unlike your Tadeusz … who for a different reason … for another very different reason most definitely … left you … and devastated you more profoundly than can be articulated. I … too … hurt Maria Elena beyond measure. I shattered a belief and a knowledge she knew to be true. For this I still have profound regret … and sorrow.
“Yet I could not look back. I know I was called to this vocation … this is my fate. When this certainty became apparent to me … I moved to Rome and entered the seminary. I knew I must follow this path. I knew my life was to be one of service.”
Marco turned and looked at Esther full on, almost falling into her eyes, and said, “I am here … now … at your service.”
Heading further and further away from Bombay, they traveled the next hour or so in silence. Marco’s thoughts were peregrine; Esther churned every syllable of what this man had said, grasping all too intimately Maria Elena’s plight. Her heart went out to this woman she had never known but understood fully. Esther thought, too, of Sacha, back in Leiden, and wondered if she would ever find a way to recover from her wrenching loss of Claes.
The vast sum of new information to digest made her head throb. This, coupled with the steady, albeit bumpy, motion of the car, persuaded Esther to close her eyes and doze for short bouts. At these times, she imagined the ride grew smoother and a good deal faster, almost as though the car had taken flight to soar through the air.
During one of these periods, she roused to Marco speaking. Esther thought she heard him say, “Ah … Krauncha … mushika … my dear mouse … slowly … ever more slowly, please. Do not forget we have a precious passenger…”
“Pardon? Did you say something to me?” Esther asked.
Marco smiled his widest smile and emitted his heartiest laugh. “No … no … please excuse me for waking you.”
Esther shrugged and closed her eyes once again. Questioning any aspect of this journey, its purpose or destination, did not seem necessary. It was apparent Marco was directed—on all levels. He drove without maps or compass, only with an abundance of persuasiveness impossible to ignore. Confident that where they were headed was a place she must see. An experience Esther had to undertake.
The last day on the ship, Marco had wholly won her confidence—heretofore an impossible feat. In truth, he had reawakened the trust buried on her fated wedding day long ago. If nothing else, Esther knew Marco’s instincts were strong, his intentions virtuous, and their connection beyond explanation.
The route they traveled was one of gravel, dust, and ruts, with barely a dedicated lane available for each direction. Often the road would seem to disappear, no markings visible. Then everyone would fend for himself, larger vehicles dominating those of smaller dimensions. Marco constantly zigged and zagged to avoid potholes and people—men, women, and children, most seemingly of an age far too young to be alone, attempting to cross or walking alongside the road; men pulling two-wheeled carts packed to overflowing; people of differing sizes and shapes on two- or three-wheeled bicycles; and men and women balancing astonishingly bulky boxes or baskets or outsized pieces of wood or loads of bricks on the top of their heads or shoulders, like one might expect to see in a circus act. There were trucks and taxis and cows—many, many cows—wandering, by the looks of it, without caretaker or directed route—dogs, pigs, sheep, goats, chickens, and the occasional elephant ridden by men dressed entirely in white topped by bright headdresses—beautifully adorned elephants, canvases of marvelously painted faces and bodies, the likes of which Esther had never seen in the Wuppertal zoo.
With cloudless sky and the sun stalwart in
one position, distance seemed impervious to time. It was not possible to establish how long they had been gone or how far they had traveled.
“Don’t we need to stop for petrol,” Esther asked after she spied what appeared to be another location for acquiring this requisite fluid just ahead on the road. Although not like petrol stations in Europe, these were demarcated areas that hosted large barrels with glass bottles and attached hand pumps. The one they neared had a small boy pushing, pulling, and jumping up and down. His full weight forced on a pump with a long hose connected to a standing automobile.
“Ah … we are fine … really …” responded Marco smiling. “Nothing to be concerned with. Please … enjoy the journey.”
As a driver, Marco was skilled and attentive to the road’s curious demands, but that fact did not engender the possibility of a truly pleasant or relaxing ride. Although Esther continued to doze off now and again, the heat, coupled with persistent humidity, was nearly unbearable. A thick mixture of dung and dirt hung in the air, blanketing everything. The fumes from the car endeavored to make Esther nauseous. Fortunately, the continual forward motion, steady or otherwise, generated a slight breeze that helped alleviate the symptoms.
At one point along the way, Marco turned to Esther and said, “In India you need only five things to be a most excellent driver: good heart … good brakes … good eyes … good luck … of course … and a good horn!”
With this, he threw his head back and laughed uproariously, eyes aglow with a mischievous crinkle.
Wide expanses of sandy brown jutted up against an equally vast hazy blue. The mostly barren landscape did accommodate tumble-weeds and bushes. The sporadic stunted tree filled out the vista in motion outside the car’s windows. This scenery seemed to continue for kilometer upon kilometer. No substantial natural shelter could be seen, and no bodies of water. They had arrived in a desert of consequence, and as if on cue, Marco announced, “We have entered the great Thar Desert.”
Guesthouse for Ganesha Page 28