I smiled as I lowered the small weight onto the bed to stop it. My heart pounded in awe. I'd done nothing to move the pendulum. It had come into action on its own when I expressed the question. All life had gone out of it as I now held the device still, emptying my mind for the next question. No movement now powered the string or the weight.
"In that life, did I die in a burning jungle under an elephant's foot?" I could feel my heart pounding.
Once again, the pendulum set itself to a clockwise motion. Yes. I thought so.
Without waiting for the device to stop completely, my logical mind took over. "Was it an accident?"
This time, the string almost jumped out of my hand as the small weight started a counterclockwise circle. No. I stared at the gyrating pendulum for a while before stopping its movement.
Barely controlling the chaos in my head, I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I needed to relax body and mind to let the questions flow unhindered. "Was I murdered?"
As I still marveled at the astute question, the pendulum slowly started a clockwise motion, quickly gaining velocity. I had been murdered. Why? By whom? Unfortunately, the questions had to have a yes or no answer. These would have to wait until I found a suspect. If nothing else, this confirmed what I deeply believed but hadn't dared express.
Other questions now burned to be answered. "Will I remain in India and live in the ashram for the rest of my life?"
I watched as the weight slowly moved along a straight line. It did not circle but oscillated back and forth. What did it mean? Wasn't the question clear enough? I had to breathe slowly to calm my growing unrest.
When I felt more serene, I heard myself ask, "Will I take a vow of celibacy?"
Unmistakably, the pendulum gyrated counterclockwise: so much for becoming a nun. Reason, however, could not accept this answer. I had recently decided to seek spirituality, and the logical end to such a quest would command a monastic life. This was just a ridiculous game.
One more question, I thought, and I give up. "Will I ever meet Mukunda again?"
This time, the answer came faster, with a force that threatened to send the brass weight flying off the string. Yes! I caught my breath, snatched the pendulum in my palm and laid it on the bed.
A whiff of perfume through the shutters told me Kora was coming this way. I stuffed the pendulum in my pocket, lay on the bed, and closed my eyes, pretending to nap. I wasn't in any mood to suffer her scorn.
Kora waltzed in. I felt the whoosh of the door filling the mosquito net, smelled her scented veils floating close. I heard her pull a suitcase from under her bed and rummage in it for a while. She must have found what she looked for. I heard the clap of a closing lid, then the rasping of luggage on the stone floor. I breathed a trail of perfume and another smell I didn't quite recognize.
I opened my eyes as she left the room. Something she held caught my attention: hand-rolled cigarettes. When the door slammed shut, I finally recognized the suspicious smell: hashish. How dare she bring drugs to this place? But I felt guilty for spying. It was none of my business.
I shrugged, thinking about my own weaknesses. Using a pendulum to get serious answers? As if life's most important decisions could be gambled on the whim of a silly gadget. I had better forget about it and go back to my philosophical studies. If there were such a thing as destiny, it would take its course. I didn't need answers I wasn't ready to accept.
Chapter Seven
Karma, the law of cause and effect
Naked except for the many jewels adorning her body, Korana sank blissfully into the carved tub full of warm human blood, on which floated white, immaculate orchids. Around her, female servants and priests of Kali repeated a mantra to the jingle of tiny bells and the beat of small tabla drums. Lifting her long black hair to let it hang outside the tub, Korana indulged in the feel of the viscous liquid slipping between her decorated toes and fingers. In a trance, she watched the blood cover the mehndi, intricate henna designs covering the inside of her hands. She relished the feel of warm blood, its coppery smell, the sense of power it gave her.
Around the tub, displayed for her enjoyment, sat the heads of the men and women in whose blood she bathed. Reveling in sweet revenge, Korana remembered these people in life and how they displeased her. Suddenly, three of the faces changed before her eyes into Mukunda's, Chad's, and her stepfather's. Their eyes came to life as they regarded her with loathsome reproach.
Kora screamed herself awake. The nightmare always came on the mornings she must ride Shankar, Kora noticed, puzzled, wondering whether she read too much into it. Whatever the cause, she wasn't about to give up the elephant, her only friend in this God forsaken place, for a silly nightmare. Looking around in the pale morning light, she saw no one but heard chanting from the temple. What a sorry flock! Kora hated sheep, always had, even at the station in Adelaide, where they had brought her wealth.
She had fled Adelaide after her stepfather's horrible death. Why had he insisted on remarrying? Why did the detectives suspect her of foul play? He drove off a cliff, for God's sake! She wondered whether the young mechanic who sabotaged the brakes for her had squealed. There were no more real men left in this world. You could trust no one. After cashing as much wealth as she could, Kora had fled Australia to hide in the only country where one could disappear without a trace, where chaos and corruption reigned, where western administration had virtually no recourse: India.
Getting up in the empty dorm, Kora enjoyed the deserted showers and shamelessly ignored the water restrictions. After careful makeup and hairdo, she donned a lamé tunic and wide pants from Chanel, gold jewelry, and golden slippers, then went across the street for milk‑tea and a slice of papaya. Back to the elephant's new shed just in time, she smiled sweetly as Chad greeted her with a fragrant garland of white gardenias.
"I made it for you before sunrise, instead of meditating," he said sheepishly, red creeping up his boyish face.
"Thank you," Kora condescended. Inside, however, she thought he behaved like a pup, unworthy of her, as unsophisticated as a fleece-picker. Despite his good looks, he was an ex-alcoholic, demoted football player, and poor. She wouldn't have bothered with him at all if he hadn't been so cute, and Shankar's keeper. Besides, he fulfilled a need and presented the perfect opportunity to practice her Kama Sutra.
Shankar's flanks, trunk, and ears had been painted with stylized flowers as well as various symbols in bright pink, turquoise, and white. Kora could tell the pachyderm enjoyed the attention when she patted the thick trunk. After the other riders settled in the howdah, Chad helped Kora ascend the ladder to the front seat. He then climbed back down, took hold of the harnesses, and walked beside the animal.
Swaying to the rhythm of the elephant's back, Kora was glad for a light breakfast. She enjoyed riding the great beast. Never mind the two swamis and the honored guest chanting the Guru Gita in the back. Their righteous attitude couldn't spoil her fun.
With amused eyes, she surveyed Chad who walked warily alongside the great beast, one hand holding the harness. At Kora's request, Chad always let her know when the elephant would take riders for a stroll and took her along as an escort. The young man had fallen helplessly in love, of course, but Kora couldn't care less.
From up high, She felt like a queen overseeing her subjects, their poverty less depressing from afar. God, she wished she could smoke a little hashish right this minute, but she had left it in the room, and the swamis would frown and probably tell. It would calm her nerves, though, and soften the memories of the morning’s nightmare.
Rocked by the slow rhythm of the ride, Kora had no regrets and no desire to go back home. She didn't miss Adelaide, except sometimes for the fancy ballroom dancing that had become a passion. She loved the Latin rhythm, the glitter, the spotlight, the fabulous costumes and, of course, the handsome partners.
India was still a mystery to her. At first attracted by the ancient folklore, Kora saw in her present life a window of opportunity. Young men
on a spiritual quest flocked through Ganeshpur from all over the world and from all walks of life. If she played her cards right, Kora would snatch a rich American husband, preferably from California, who would buy her a mansion in Beverly Hills. Good thing she had that terrific nose job and wonderful breast implants two years ago. With her glorious blond mane and costly Kama Sutra lessons, she now had the right tools for the job. She’d find a husband, bribe a few officials to get a new passport under a married name then start a life in America.
Kora only hoped it would be as easy to seduce the magnificent Mukunda as it had been to fascinate Chad. She shivered, remembering the nightmare then shrugged it off. Mukunda would be hers. An investigation through the Internet had revealed that the dam engineer’s real name was Alex Springfield and that he graduated from Berkeley. His Californian family had made a fortune investing in SiliconeValley. If Mukunda matched her stamina in bed and let her practice the fancy ballroom dancing she loved, Kora would sweep him off his feet and marry him in a flash. She wondered how long it would take to catch the gorgeous engineer, but he would have to be a saint to resist the power of Kama Sutra.
*****
Mukunda awoke from his nap in a sweat. The afternoons became hotter as spring advanced, but he would get used to it, like he had the years before. He couldn't quite remember the disturbing nightmare, only the aftertaste of unpleasantness, tempered by vague memories of ancient love. At the recollection, his member stiffened again. This now happened more frequently. Since Baba’s comment about celibacy, Mukunda's hormones raged wild. Dammit! He balked at the thought of shameful relief.
Throwing off the sheet, Mukunda set one foot upon the rug covering the tile floor and stepped into the shower room. The noise of passing cement trucks came through the gaping window, but the dam itself was silent since work had ceased at noon. It was Saturday. The breeze from the overhead fan raised the blond hair of Mukunda's naked body, making him shiver with delight. The small water pump, a personal improvement to the rented house, along with solar panels, hummed as he turned on the cold water and started soaping and scrubbing.
Too bad a foreigner couldn't own property in this country. Mukunda would have liked to build his own house on this land, a charming Indian fantasy he had designed many years ago, prompted by a vision. Maybe he’d find a way to make it happen and start a family here, hopefully with the woman in his dreams.
Spreading shaving cream over his face, Mukunda stared at his pale blue eyes in the square mirror, chiding himself for being so naive. How many eligible women had he met during his three years in Ganeshpur? Too few. He grimaced at the thought, careful not to cut himself with the blade. The local girls married before they reached womanhood, the ashramites came and went, focusing on spiritual goals, usually chaste for the length of their stay. Even on his many trips across the country for business or pleasure, Mukunda had never met a potential lover, much less a wife.
Suddenly, as he toweled the remaining shaving cream off his face, he thought of Kora, the dazzling Australian girl. She seemed available and definitely interested. The lure of her sultry breasts, swaying hips, scented mane, and inviting smile, exacerbated his lust. How wonderful it would feel to bury himself in her willing flesh. It sounded far better than the alternative.
Setting aside his reservations about Kora's disturbing behavior, Mukunda decided to pay her a visit at the beauty shop. What the hell, it would do him good. Besides, his hair had grown too long, he thought with a smile, brushing back a handful of damp locks. Reaching for fresh clothes on the shelf, he began humming his favorite tune.
*****
Stopping in the village for a few supplies, Mukunda also bought a bottle of Toddy, a mildly alcoholic extract from the coconut palm flower, and a bottle of Arak, a strong rice liquor favored by the local peasants. He would have preferred Australian champagne for the occasion, but this was all the village could offer, unless you wanted contraband liquor on the black market.
"Are you planning on getting blotto tonight, Sahib?" The portly merchant asked with good humor in a lilting voice.
Mukunda laughed, a little embarrassed at the candid question. Getting drunk was the favorite pastime of wifeless dam workers on Saturday night, and everyone in the village knew it. Mukunda didn't relish being included in that lot.
"Just make sure the Arak comes from a Government distillery," Mukunda specified. "I don't mind paying the high price, but I don't want to die or go blind from methyl alcohol."
"I wouldn't be selling you illicit merchandise, Sahib," the merchant said, lolling his head in mild protest. "You're scarcely coming to the liquor store. I wouldn't be wanting to scare you away."
Mukunda paid and left. At the flower stand, he purchased a white ginger mala for Kora, then hopped in the Mahindra Jeep and drove to the beauty shop. Four-thirty. The shop closed at five...perfect timing.
The Jeep crushed gravel and dust as it came to a halt. Suddenly, Mukunda felt guilty. He stopped mid-movement, hand on the door handle. What in hell was he thinking of? The girl was gorgeous but he didn't feel anything but lust for her. It seemed hardly fair. He would be using her.
So? A sneaky little voice interjected in the back of his mind. You don't have to sleep with her. You can have a nice evening and just be friends. "Just be friends?" Mukunda shook his head in disbelief, then straightened up and stared at his reflection in the rear view mirror. "I can behave like a gentleman. After all, I am a gentleman," he concluded, picking up the ginger garland and stepping out of the Jeep.
*****
Kora saw Mukunda coming through the open door of the beauty parlor. She shook hair snippets from the pink towel then wiped the black vinyl chair when her finished customer stood, ready to leave.
"I'll take this next client right now," Kora told the hostess, unable to hide the eagerness in her voice. "He's a good friend of mine." A quick look in the wall mirror, a small adjustment to her pink summer dress to show a little more cleavage: she looked scrumptious, as usual.
The Indian hostess rolled her eyes but did not protest in front of the waiting customers. Kora couldn't care less that men usually took care of men and women took care of ladies, or that it was late Saturday afternoon and the shop was packed. Others could take care of her regular customers. Used to doing as she pleased, Kora ignored the disapproving looks and strode confidently toward the tall man in white. She displayed her most charming smile.
"Hi," Mukunda said with a wide grin showing white teeth. "I need a haircut and I brought you this." He held the ginger garland in front of him. Kora dipped her head, allowing him to lower the flowers slowly to rest on her shoulders.
"Thank you," she said, her voice dripping sweetness as she buried her nose in fragrant blossoms. "I'm so glad you came." Kora took his arm and proudly guided him to her station. As they walked, she noticed with satisfaction that despite her high heels, he stood taller than she. Her fingers tingled where she touched hard muscles through the rough cotton sleeve. She never thought so much power could emanate from such a civilized man.
Mukunda sat obediently on the black chair, his back to her. Kora couldn't help but stare in the wall mirror at his tanned face, powerful frame and long legs covered by heavy cotton pants. She affixed the protective apron carefully around his neck and smiled.
Mukunda returned the smile. "What's a creature like you doing in a place like this?"
"The beauty shop? Oh, I don't need the work." Kora reclined the chair a bit to massage his scalp, aware of his closing eyes and relaxing muscles. "Besides, we don't even get paid. The money goes to the ashram. But in order to stay at Shree Gurudev, I have to participate in a suitable chore." She felt the length of his hair, deciding how much she would trim and what style would best suit the shape of his face. "Thank God for beauty college." She slid her heavy gold bangles up her forearms and out of the way. "I couldn't picture myself cleaning bathrooms or working in the kitchen." Kora laughed softly.
"Neither can I." Mukunda laughed with her, a warm laugh.
Seizing a plastic spray bottle, she wet his hair for the cut.
"But I didn't mean the beauty shop." Mukunda blinked against the spray. "What are you doing in the ashram, or even in India? You don't seem immersed in the search for spirituality like the others."
The keen question made Kora cringe. The clever man was perceptive. She pulled up a strand of his hair. "How short would you like it?"
"I trust your good taste," he said, "Follow your heart."
Kora smiled at the comment. Since the man couldn't be easily deceived, she decided to stick as close as possible to the truth. "After my stepfather died," she explained, parting his wet hair with a comb, "I couldn't stand to stay home, so I decided to travel." She drew up a width of hair and started snipping.
"The loss of a loved one can hurt." Mukunda sounded genuinely sympathetic.
"Yes. Anyway, India fascinates me. It always did, as far as I remember." Their eyes met in the mirror. "The local culture, however, shuns single women, so the ashram offers the ideal lodging solution." Snippets of hair fell at each clip of the scissors.
"I can understand that." Mukunda lowered his voice. "But the ashram is not a hotel. Don't you have to follow the schedule, get up early, meditate, chant, all that?"
She angled his head to the side with the slight pressure of two fingers. "I do some," she confided, "but this outside chore gives me plenty of opportunities to sneak out. No one notices if I don't show up, except my roommates, and they keep quiet."
"They must like you a lot."
The musky smell of his aftershave teased her nostrils. "I guess so," Kora lied, with a much practiced humble smile.
"Don't you miss your country?" Mukunda stared at her cleavage in the mirror.
"Not at all." Kora bent slightly forward and pushed back the ginger garland to give him more to look at. "Not yet, anyway, except for a few amenities, like hot water, air-conditioning, ice cubes, rain, things like that. And you? Where are you from?" She already knew but thought she should ask.
Ashes for the Elephant God Page 7