by Sonia Singh
Tahir sat up, black silk sheets pooling around his legs, and peered over. “Yeah.”
He didn’t look like either one of them. His father was slight with delicate features and wispy gray hair. His mother was tall, heavyset, and dark. Her features were as formidable as her bosom. Instead of staring into the camera, she was gazing at her son with a look of rapt adoration. I suppressed a shudder and moved on.
The woman in the next picture was simply breathtaking. Her soft white hair was pulled back into a simple bun, exposing the long slender line of her throat. She wore a gold-embroidered sari and owned the chair as if it were a throne. Tahir looked exactly like her.
He stood up and my eyes immediately swung toward his nether regions, but he was wearing pajama bottoms the exact same color as the sheets. “My dadi.” He picked up the frame, his expression softening as he gazed at his paternal grandmother. “I call her every Sunday.”
“Who’s this?” I pointed to a picture of a black Labrador drooling up into the camera, tail in midwag.
“Chum. Leaving him behind in Delhi was the hardest thing I had to do.” Tahir’s eyes were getting brighter by the moment. “My parents dote on him.”
Any moment now I’d find myself with a weeping, half-naked man on my hands. I needed to snap him out of it. “So this is the softer side of Tahir?” I mocked. “Surprise. Surprise. And here I was thinking you had all the charm of Donald Rumsfeld coupled with the heart of Martha Stewart.”
The corner of Tahir’s mouth curled up in a smile. “You’re in for another surprise. Take a look in the mirror.”
What was it? A hickey the size of Long Island?
There was a funky, black, rectangular mirror—I was betting Z Gallerie—on the opposite wall. I walked toward it, looked, and nearly screamed.
A small ruby winked at me from the left side of my nose.
Holy shnoz! I’d gotten my nose pierced.
Tentatively, I reached out and touched it. “To reiterate, how did this happen?”
“A tattoo parlor on Main. We drove by, and you insisted on going in. They’re known for their celebrity clientele. I think I saw Christina Aguilera being led into a back room.”
Upscale tattoo parlor? Wasn’t that a contradiction in terms? Trying to process the events of the night before left me feeling light-headed.
“I rather like it,” Tahir added.
I snapped. Tahir’s nonchalance had gone too far. “What kind of man are you? There I was, completely drunk, and you happily stand by while I get my nose pierced. Then you happily have sex with me afterward.”
Tahir ran a hand through his hair. “We came back here, and I had a few drinks myself—I’m not making excuses—but,” he paused, “there is such a thing as personal responsibility.”
I was still formulating a witty reply when he reached over and brushed a lock of hair off my bare shoulder. “Listen. Last night was amazing, and I know it wasn’t because of the alcohol. This thing between us”—his warm hands slid up my arms and rested on my shoulders—“is rare and real.”
The room was suddenly hotter than August in India.
Tahir was waiting. The moment was pregnant with intimacy. I would have to weigh my next few words carefully.
“Did you use protection?” I asked.
Damn.
That wasn’t what I’d meant to say.
He stepped back, hands dropping to his sides. “Yes, of course.”
“Umm, great.” I quickly began retrieving my clothes from the floor. Arms full, I raced for the door next to me and whipped it open, praying it was the bathroom and not the closet.
’Cause I didn’t want to look stupid.
Make that stupider.
Confronted with marble, I let out a sigh of relief. Bathroom. Without looking at Tahir, I slammed the door shut and locked it.
Sinking to the edge of the tub, I buried my face in my hands and willed the image of Tahir, arms at his side, expression hurt, out of my head.
Well, what did he expect me to say?
I didn’t know how I felt about him. I knew I wanted him. I missed him when he was gone. But that could all be lust. I mean, if Tahir had one eye and lurched around like the hunchback of Notre Dame, would I still feel the same way?
I really, really wanted him.
Yesterday I’d been complaining. I’d felt lonely. Was I saving the world or wasn’t I saving the world, and did anyone care?
Outside Tahir was waiting to take me in his arms, and at the moment it was the only place I wanted to be.
I felt the Universe was giving me a sign.
I opened the door.
Tahir was in the middle of the room, clad in a pair of jeans, and pulling on a shirt.
I cleared my throat. “I’m up for exploring this connection between us, what about you?”
The next moment his mouth was against mine.
Oh yeah.
This time, I was going to remember each and every second of it.
Chapter 38
I WAS DEFINITELY feeling the shakti.
I was back in my car, singing along with Lauryn Hill at the top of my lungs. It was well into evening and dark outside. Tahir had wanted to take me to Dolce for dinner. I’d been sorely tempted—by Tahir and the meal—but I had a job to do, malevolence to battle.
Even though we were now lovers—a giggle escaped my lips—I hadn’t told Tahir about the goddess thing. First of all, how do you bring something like that into casual conversation? I mean, that would require the mother of all smooth transitions. Secondly, if I did tell him, would he believe me? I was having trouble believing it, and I had lightning at my beck and call. Third, what if I did call up the winds, and I ended up scaring the shit out of him? He’d hightail it away so fast, Speedy Gonzales couldn’t keep up with him.
I liked having Tahir in my life. I didn’t exactly know what the status of our relationship was—somewhere between fuck buddies and dating—but I didn’t want to risk it.
And that sort of brought me to why I hadn’t told my parents the truth yet. In the beginning it was the normal dysfunctional-family, don’t-ask-don’t-tell thing, but now it had evolved into something else.
I was afraid to tell them.
I was afraid of seeing the fear and incomprehension on their faces. We had enough problems as it was. I didn’t want them looking at me as some kind of monster.
It was well and good worshipping a deity from a distance. But even the most peaceful Buddhists residing in the state of Zendom would find it a bit unsettling if their son turned out to be the incarnation of Buddha. They might even hang themselves from the nearest Bodhi tree.
The truth could wait.
For the moment my holy secret was safe with me.
But there was one thing I couldn’t wait for. With Tahir I’d found an even better workout than fighting evil. And I was hungry. I was more than hungry.
In the words of Mohandas K. Gandhi, after his famous fast ended, “Can someone get me some goddamn food?”
I was in the drive-thru of Carl’s Jr. ordering a Western Bacon cheeseburger meal, when my cell phone rang.
Ram was finally calling me back.
“Where’ve you been?” I demanded. “Can I get crisscut fries instead of regular?”
“Crisscross?” Ram asked.
“Hold on.” I finished ordering, then moved ahead into the long line of cars leading up to the window. I settled back and turned my attention to Ram. “Sorry about that. Now why haven’t you called?”
“I was on holiday in Seattle.”
“Seattle?”
“Sanjay had work there. It was a most joyous trip. We went to the Space Needle, but I lost my sandal at Pike Place Market.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be out of town?”
Ram sounded genuinely puzzled. “I did not think you would be so distressed. I mailed you a postcard,” he added.
I couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks. Now we definitely need to meet. I have a couple of questions for y
ou.”
“That is acceptable. Sanjay is with Indira. We can meet here.” His voice dropped to a whisper even though he’d just said he was alone. “I do not think Indira likes me. She looks at me like she is a sleeping cobra, and I am the annoying little boy who has been poking her with a stick trying to rouse her from her slumber.”
I laughed. “I don’t think she’s too into me either. Listen, I’m in LA. I should be in Irvine in about forty minutes.”
“Let it be so,” Ram said, and hung up.
I paid and merged back into traffic. Burger in one hand, fries in the other, and steering with my elbows. Just as I took a bite my cell rang again.
Tahir’s name flashed across the screen.
A thrill ran through me.
Taking one elbow off the wheel, I shoved the burger, complete with wrapper, into my mouth to hold, and grabbed the phone.
It slipped and fell between my feet.
I tried to grab it with my foot, but not even I was that coordinated.
Reluctantly, I made a right and pulled into a residential street. By the time I picked up the phone, he’d hung up.
I was about to call him back, when there was a loud crash and I was thrown forward onto the steering wheel.
My car had been hit from behind.
Fuming, I yanked open the door and jumped out. No one, but no one, dented my H2. If they didn’t have insurance, I would descend on them with all the force of my sacred right to rage.
And then the malevolence hit.
Ugh.
This wasn’t some innocent driver.
The malevolence was strong, distinct. I’d come to realize that malevolence was as unique to the individual as body odor.
Ugh.
As in body odor ugh. Not evil ugh.
Actually, the malevolence was more than distinct. It was familiar. I’d felt it before at Aunt Gayatri’s party and periodically afterward.
The Kali-hater was back.
Before I could open the door and retrieve my sword, he was in front of me.
My hand froze on the door handle.
What shocked me wasn’t the gun pointed at my midsection. I was used to guns.
My stalker moved closer and the light from the street-lamp fell on his face, illuminating what I’d already seen.
I couldn’t believe it.
The Kali-hater was none other than Ram’s cousin.
Mild-mannered computer programmer—
Sanjay.
Chapter 39
“SO THIS WHOLE TIME I’ve been pursued by Dilbert with a tan? Well, now I know why all the attempts on my life failed.”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to insult the person who currently had a gun trained on yours truly, but Sanjay had started it. He’d made fun of my driving, and now he wanted me dead.
His hand tightened on the gun. “You are the embodiment of evil and must be destroyed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. No wonder I had a relatively calm week. You were in Seattle.”
Sanjay’s eyes—already gleaming with fanaticism—took on an even more fervent flash. “After I dispose of you, I will remove the second most evil person on Earth—Bill Gates. And my software program to rival Windows will finally stand a chance.”
The dude was seriously wacked.
Well not about Bill Gates—most Americans probably found him to be a wee bit evil—but definitely about me.
“Why are you after me? I don’t get it.” In movies the hero usually kept the villain talking as long as possible. Seemed like a plan to me, until I thought of something else. “You’re Hindu, and Kali is a revered Hindu goddess.”
There was a soft thump, and an orange cat with white paws curled up on the hood of my car and stared at us with interest.
Sanjay didn’t seem to notice our four-legged observer, too preoccupied, as he was, with thoughts of eradicating my existence. “The gods created Kali to destroy the Demon King, but she became far worse than any monster she slaughtered. Kali feeds on death. She was reborn, not to save the world, but to destroy it.”
For a Hindu, I could not believe how off the mark Sanjay was. Then again, that was sort of the definition of fanatic, wasn’t it? I had heard of a cult in Calcutta that supposedly conducted human sacrifices in the name of Kali—a problem I’d definitely have to address—but that was like blaming Jesus Christ for the Spanish Inquisition.
I looked over at the cat. I wondered if my powers extended to communicating with animals? I stared, willing the creature to leap onto Sanjay’s face and claw his eyes out. Instead it began licking its paw.
Fine. So I couldn’t count on a feline sidekick.
“But why come after me now, Sanjay? You were trailing me for days before Ram arrived from India. Why not take me out then?”
Sanjay shrugged. “I had to make sure you were the one. And frankly, I had my doubts until the end.”
“But why—”
“Enough!” he shouted. “Tonight it ends. Your death will restore the balance of the world.”
Ram and Sanjay kept throwing that phrase “balance of the world” around, and I still didn’t get what it meant.
“Sanjay, listen,” I began.
“I am only the first step,” he said. “You will be punished well into your next life. The karmic wheel of justice shall see to that.”
“Punished how? Am I gonna come back looking like you?”
“Here kitty, kitty.”
Sanjay and I both turned to see an old woman in fuzzy slippers and matching robe, step out onto the porch. “Here kitty, Jeff kitty.” She spotted us and stared suspiciously.
Two brown people in an upper-middle-class neighborhood will do that.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
I used that moment to call the Goddess Within.
Lightning flared against the sky.
Gun raised, Sanjay whipped around to face me.
With its fur standing on end, the cat rose on all fours, hissed, and sped away.
Sanjay started, distracted by the cat. I lunged and kicked him in the face. Not too difficult since he was only a couple inches taller than I.
He screamed and fell back, dropping the gun and clutching his nose.
The leg weights were paying off.
I picked up the gun. I’d dispose of it in the nearest body of water. I was chucking guns into the ocean on a regular basis. If malevolence didn’t get me, the EPA surely would.
The old lady was peering from her porch. “What’s going on? I’m calling the police.” She hurried back into the house.
Sanjay jumped up, hand still pressed to his bloodied nose—I was betting I’d broken it—and took off running, darting between two houses and disappearing into the shadows.
I debated my options.
I could go after Sanjay or get the hell out before the police arrived.
I elected to do the latter.
As I opened the door of my car, I heard a soft meow. Jeff the cat was sitting on the grass watching me. His golden eyes caught the light.
He looked distinctly unimpressed.
Sanjay’s apartment smelled like IKEA.
Ram sat silently as I poured out my tale. When I reached the end, he stood and excused himself.
He went into the bedroom and returned carrying a small beaten satchel. “Naturally I choose no longer to cohabit with malevolence.”
Naturally.
I was about to get us both out of there when a thought struck me with all the force of Fat Albert. “Ram, why didn’t my Malevolent Meter ever go off around Sanjay? Like that first night at the Holiday Inn and all the other times when he wasn’t trying to exterminate me?”
“The first night we met you were not open to the Goddess Within,” Ram replied. “And later Sanjay knew of your abilities. He guarded his thoughts and emotions carefully around you. As a very young man he spent months with the ascetics in the hills. He is able to control his body and mind to a stunning degree. What more Sanjay learned, he has al
ways kept to himself.”
I resisted the urge to stamp my foot. “What is up with all these loopholes? Sanjay can walk around in some sort of zombie state, and I won’t know a thing until he’s about to strike?”
“There is no reason for you not to be completely aware of Sanjay at all times.”
“Oh.” I felt the relief slide over me. “So how exactly…” My voice trailed off as I recognized what Ram truly meant. “Don’t give me that again! I don’t know what would have happened tonight if that batty old lady hadn’t come out looking for her cat. Next time Sanjay will probably just shoot me in the back of the head. I don’t have time to seek enlightenment!”
Ram’s face took on a look of supreme patience. “Now more than ever you must believe these—loopholes as you say—are only in your mind. You must break through the mental barriers you have constructed.”
I was trying, honestly I was, but apparently I needed to hurry.
“Therapy under pressure. I get it.” Opening the front door, I gestured for Ram to precede me. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ll check you into a hotel.”
Ram swept by me with a swish of his orange robe. “A hotel is unnecessary. I will stay with you.”
I blanched. “I don’t know, Ram. My parents…”
“It will be fine,” he said.
End of discussion.
I shut the door behind me with a bang.
Ram, my parents, and me, all under one roof.
Sure.
It’d be fun.
A curry-scented breeze.
Not.
Chapter 40
MOM WAS IN FRONT of the TV watching the latest Bollywood blockbuster.
Nowadays it was possible to see the DVD version of the newest Hindi flick just days after it was released in India.
Wasn’t piracy grand?
On-screen the hero and heroine were passionately embracing on top of the Swiss Alps, passionately gazing into each other’s eyes in the middle of rolling green meadows, then passionately necking in a bed of brilliantly colored tulips. The heroine wore a seductively skimpy sari and the hero—a transparent black shirt that showed off his studly brown nipples.