Neon Lotus

by Marc Laidlaw

  “You may as well look,” said Rato. “You have come all this way. You have nothing else to lose.”

  The Governor passed through the opening, his voice ringing through the cave, echoing. Marianne started after him, but Reting caught her by the arm.

  “What are you doing, Marianne? We must leave while the fit is on him. Together perhaps we can overpower him.”

  “He may be mad,” she said, “but something he says greatly disturbs me. I must see, Reting. You may go.”

  Dr. Norbu threw down his hands. “Go where? I ran away once and it carried me straight into the enemy's hands.”

  “I pushed you away, Reting. It was wrong of me.”

  “No. I am old enough to have known better. We should have gotten down to the truth in the moment you voiced your doubts. You are still so young, Marianne. Sometimes I think you forget that. But I should not have forgotten.”

  She felt herself smile. She had not lost him after all.

  “Come with me,” she said.

  He nodded toward the opening. “Lead on.”

  Beyond the elevator landing, there was no more light except that far-off purple glow. Their steps echoed on a smooth rock floor. She could see no ceiling above them, no walls on any side; and when she looked back, the luminous opening had already dwindled to insignificance.

  Suddenly the Governor’s voice rang in her ears. “Look here,” he said. “Let there be an end to your illusions.”

  It sounded as if he were speaking in her ear, but she could see him as a shadow in the distance, limned against that purple glow. The cavern had strange acoustic properties. He continued to speak in a low voice as she approached; his voice carried with astonishing power and clarity. She could see that he was leaning against a flat stone table that looked like an ancient altar.

  “We had the vajra for many years and the nectar was also ours. The lotus and the wheel were yours to find, but not necessarily to keep.”

  As she and Dr. Norbu approached, Governor Rato stood aside and gave a flourish toward the objects arranged upon the block.

  “And so in the end, Gyayum Chenmo, you have well served those you thought to defy. I hope you will not be too disappointed.”

  She stopped dead, gripping Reting’s hand, feeling a deadly sickness in her soul.

  There sat the golden vajra, lifeless and dull.

  And a tarnished golden wheel, scratched by desert winds and long burial.

  She cried out and rushed past the Governor, reaching past the vajra for the third object—

  The lotus.

  It came to life in her hands, flickering with the roseate radiance she had come to know so well. Until that moment she might have believed that these were mere lifeless replicas, designed to convince her that she had failed. But no replica could have spoken to her as this one did, in the voice of young Tsering:

  “Gyayum Chenmo,” said the boy gazing up from the flower’s depths. “Are you well?”

  She gasped, her heart broken, and let Rato pluck the blossom from her hand.

  “Yes,” he said. “They’re all here. We intercepted your friends on their way to Chenrezi’s lair, you see. The wheel and the lotus were quite a catch. Of course, we had the gem all along.”

  “The gem,” she whispered.

  She looked past the stone altar and at last truly saw the violet flame that burned in the darkness.

  An ovoid shape of black glass, suspended in midair.

  No, not suspended. There were hands around it, huge black hands that held it gingerly, unmoving. As her eyes adjusted to the faint violet glow, her awe continued to build. Slowly she drank in the sight of the vast shape that held the Wish-Fulfilling Gem.

  Powerful black arms, four of them, were splayed across the darkness. Two more held the gem at heart level. Massive black legs stood firmly rooted on the chamber flour. Above the gem was a huge head; white teeth faintly glimmered from the deep slash of his mouth.

  She whispered his name: “Mahakala.”

  “Yes, Mahakala,” said the Governor. “Chenrezi’s archenemy. His nemesis. Now you know who has opposed you at every step. This cavern was discovered by Tibetan workmen during the reformation of Lhasa. They kept it a careful secret for year after year, until a Tibetan might again come to power in Lhasa and make use of the knowledge. I was the first official they trusted with the secret. And indeed, we have found it of great use. What better ally against white Chenrezi than the great black one, Mahakala?”

  Marianne could find no words. She could not summon the strength to touch the Governor; she did not think she could force the demons from him this time. What would have been the point of further defiance?

  “Mahakala,” Rato said, turning toward the god. “We have brought her here at last, as you requested. All the ornaments of Chenrezi are now in your hands. You will have the knowledge that would have been his.”

  The Governor took up the lotus and the vajra. He walked around the stone table and stood on tiptoe to place the vajra in Mahakala’s highest right hand. In the highest left hand he placed the lotus. Then he returned for the golden wheel, and placed it in the lowest of the black god’s right hands.

  When the wheel was in place, the Wish-Fulfilling Gem began to brighten. The lotus, too, glowed with a brilliant red fire. The vajra regained its luster as silver whorls spiraled through the depths of the Dharma wheel.

  Mahakala came to life.

  By the violet light of the Wish-Fulfilling Gem, she saw that he was decked in chains of crystal skulls. His triple eyes harbored deep orange flames, creating the illusion that a furnace burned behind his massive brow. Slowly, silently, he spread his arms and raised the gem so that its radiance poured over his face.

  “At last,” said Mahakala, in a voice as deep and heavy as the earth. “The Gyayum Chenmo.”

  “We brought her as you asked,” the Governor said. "And Chenrezi’s ornaments are yours as well.”

  “You have done exactly as you were told,” said the black god. “But you never understood what you were doing.”

  Rato took a step backward.

  “I am no enemy of Chenrezi’s,” said the idol. “That was your own delusion. Merely because I am black and he is white, because I am fierce and he is kind, you thought my gain would be his loss. But I am no more his enemy than night is the enemy of day. We are aspects of the same compassion. And you, foolish demons, have served both of us in the end. . . .”

  Rato gasped and started to turn away, but the altar blocked his escape. As he scrambled over it, Mahakala’s third eye suddenly blazed with white fire. A dazzling beam fell across the dark air and caught the Governor in flight. He stiffened, screamed, and fell limp upon the stone. The light continued to play upon him. His face writhed through a myriad of expressions, each more fearsome than the last. He gave voice to a range of harrowing screams, then finally fell silent. He lay trembling, gaping at Mahakala in terror.

  “Foolish demons,” said the black one. “You have been under the spell of the faithless for so long that you have forgotten your gods; you have lost sight of your own nature. You are in grave danger of ceasing to believe in yourself—and then what will remain of you? You will be less than exiles. You will be nothing.

  “But now I have the power to lift this spell from you, to open your wisdom eyes. Look upon me, demons. I free you now—you and those you have enslaved. Let the three-eyes work for the common good. They are beautiful creatures, sentient as any of us. Look on me, demons, and remember. . . .”

  Rato raised himself slightly, his brow twisted with bewilderment. Suddenly his eyes widened; his face cleared as if the storm of fear had swept past. He gasped, extending a hand toward Mahakala.

  “We built you!” the Governor cried, with a demon’s voice.

  “Yes,” said the god. “And my bright twin, Chenrezi. It was your great wisdom that created us—just as you have created the three-eyed race with the tools of a new age. May you quickly find the way to restore your glory. Serve humanity and you se
rve yourself.”

  Marianne stepped forward. Mahakala fixed her in his two orange eyes.

  “You . . . you brought us here, didn’t you?” she asked.

  “I did what I could to deliver you from enemies, until I had power to do more. But there is a great deal more that must be done. These ornaments are not mine; they were not made for me and I cannot use them properly. You must restore them to Chenrezi.”

  Dr. Norbu spoke up. “How is it that you know of Chenrezi, yet he seemed not to know of you?”

  Mahakala held out the Wish-Fulfilling Cem.

  “Because of this. When he holds it again, he will remember me—and more besides. The Governor will clear the way for you to quickly reach Chenrezi. My bright twin waits. My own time is passing.”

  Marianne walked up to Mahakala and reached up for the lotus, then the vajra, and finally the golden wheel. She handed them to Dr. Norbu, then turned back for the Wish-Fulfilling Gem.

  She gazed at Mahakala for a long while, admiring him.

  “What is your purpose?” she asked.

  “We are repositories of knowledge. Our builders, in their former age of greatness when they cooperated with humanity, knew that one day there would come a time of great darkness and ignorance, when these secrets would be needed. They are beyond your understanding at this time, but the future will bring revelations to those ready to receive them.”

  “My journey has been a revelation,” she said.

  Mahakala lowered his hands, offering the gem.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I am honored to have met you, Gyayum Chenmo,” said the god.

  Her hands closed around the Wish-Fulfilling Gem. It was cold despite the flame in its heart. Mahakala’s fingers opened, relinquishing the stone. Suddenly his eyes went dark; his arms stopped moving.

  “Mahakala?” she whispered.

  He gave no response. She looked into the gem and knew that the god had given her his life.

  Behind her, she heard a moan. Dr. Norbu was helping Governor Rato to sit. The Governor looked around with a dazed expression, then he began to smile.

  “They’re still here,” he said, in his own true voice. “But—but they mean no harm. Can you hear them?”

  Marianne shook her head. “That’s your gift, Governor.”

  “Allies,” he whispered. “They have so much to teach us. We should honor them.” He looked searchingly at the darkness. “There were rituals once—”

  “There still are,” said Marianne. “Outside Tibet, there are libraries full of the old knowledge, and temples that still practice the rites.”

  “I have the power to bring that knowledge here,” said the Governor.

  “Is it true,” she asked, “that the Chinese intend to liberate Tibet?”

  He nodded, looking abashed. “In twenty years’ time. It is a well-kept secret.”

  “Your people cannot tolerate twenty more years like the last twenty. If Tibetan mines are the foundation of the Great Leap Upward, they may come under tremendous pressure from the mainland.”

  The Governor nodded again. “I will protect them. I will stand between my people and China, and see that all runs smoothly. With the aid of the demons and the three-eyes, our success is certain.”

  “There is a great deal of mistrust in this land,” said Dr. Norbu. “The people will be watching you carefully.”

  “And so will Chenrezi,” said Marianne. “With a thousand and twenty-three eyes.”

  19. The Wish-Fulfilling Gem

  When she stepped from the boat onto the underground shore, a cheer went up from the guardians of the living Chenrezi. Marianne grinned, waiting for Jetsun Dorje to climb out after her. She carried the lotus, Jetsun carried the vajra, Dr. Norbu held the Dharma wheel, and Dhondub Ling cradled the Wish-Fulfilling Gem as if it were an infant, his own child. They went quickly up the slope, a crowd gathering around them. For a time they were busy showing the ornaments to those who inhabited the cave; but even the guardians soon grew impatient and insisted that they hurry to present the objects to Chenrezi.

  Marianne was the first one into the dim passage that led to the chamber of Chenrezi, but in the dark she insisted that Jetsun trade places with her.

  “You’ve never seen Chenrezi,” she said. “You should go first.”

  As she had done months ago, she saw Jetsun hesitate at the portal of the sacred cave. He stood silhouetted against a vibrant spray of light, then he reached back and took her hand.

  “Let’s go in together,” he said.

  “All right.”

  Four carried the ornaments, but more than that number entered the shrineroom. Along with Dhondub Ling came his wife Pema and his brother Changchup. Mr. Fang bore an offering of flowers and silk scarves. All the guardians of the cavern, including the Khampa sentries, entered in single file, leaving the outer chamber deserted for the moment. Last of all, anonymous in simple robes, came the Governor Rato, who had arranged their passage from Lhasa.

  The ceiling of the cavern shone with the light of captive suns as they approached the center of the shrine. Marianne was blinded momentarily after the darkness of the outer caves, but when her vision cleared she saw Chenrezi towering over her. Of his eleven heads, ten smiled in greeting. The eleventh, that of ever-wrathfui Vajrapani, managed to look pleased in spite of a ferocious scowl.

  “Greetings, Chenrezi,” she said. “We have your ornaments.”

  “This is a great day, Gyayum Chenmo. I had thought for a time that all was lost. The ornaments I hear fell into the hands of the enemy.”

  “Not so,” she said. “They fell into the hands of Mahakala, who kept them safe until I could recover them.”

  “Talk later,” snapped Dhondub Ling. “Let’s put these things in their proper places.”

  The air was alive with the sinuous motion of Chenrezi’s thousand arms. One at a time, the bearers of the ornaments went forward and placed their possessions in Chenrezi’s extended hands. Marianne went last of all. Gazing into the flower for a moment while Chenrezi waited, she saw a boy’s face flicker briefly into existence.

  “Goodbye, Tsering,” she said. “You wanted to see the living Chenrezi. I am placing you in his keeping.”

  “Goodbye, Gyayum Chenmo,” Tsering called.

  The white palm waited, watching her with an unblinking eye. She set the lotus into it and then stepped back. At Chenrezi’s touch, a stream of white nectar jetted from the flower’s heart.

  She looked up at the god to see his reaction. She thought that for a moment even blue Vajrapani smiled—but then his wrathful visage intensified. The Wish-Fulfilling Gem sent a rich purple light rippling over the opaline breast of Chenrezi. The lotus blazed like a flame. The Vajra left a trail of golden mist wherever it passed through the air. And the Dharma wheel seemed to spin faster and faster, full of hypnotic lights, until it stabilized into a disk of shimmering energy. She had the feeling that she was looking into a lens or peering through a gate that led to other worlds. She had once traveled that mysterious road, flying through the night from Kham to the Changthang. If she touched the wheel again, where would it take her? Through space? Through time?

  She realized that Chenrezi was speaking to her.

  “I am sorry, Marianne,” whispered the lowest white face.

  “Sorry?” she said, confused by his attention to her. But looking up at the faces, she saw that each of them was whispering—though she could hear none of them but this one. Each seemed to have a personal message for all of those in the chamber.

  “I’m sorry for all that you lost, all that you suffered, in my service,” Chenrezi said.

  She managed a smile, though she felt suddenly close to tears.

  “The worst thing,” she said, “was losing Tara. But I would never have known her at all if it weren’t for you.”

  “But you haven’t lost her, Marianne. She lives in you yet. She has changed her form, taken a full step into the terrestrial world in order to be with you. Soon her transformati
on will be complete.”

  “I—” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Did you not know, Great Mother, that you are pregnant?”

  “Pregnant!” she cried, putting her hand to her belly.

  Jetsun Dorje stood beside her, eyes wide. “Marianne, Chenrezi just told me. . . .” He touched her face gently. “Is it true?”

  She started to shake her head, but not with denial. She simply could not believe it. It was still too early to be certain; so early that she had not thought of the possibility. But she remembered the night in the snowcave, the night of the mystic heat, and Tara’s own delight in their lovemaking. She remembered also the deep little pains, the discomfort that might have signified her ovulation.

  “A daughter,” she whispered, clutching Jetsun’s hand. “Tara.”

  “You’ve already named her?” he asked with a laugh.

  “In a sense, she named herself,” said Chenrezi. “It was time for her to come into the world. She will be your daughter, but she is also a part of myself. I can never leave this spot, you know, but Tara could. When she is old enough, she will come to know me. She will learn to read my memories; she will unlock the mysteries of my existence. Your Tara is the first child of the new age. Tashi Drogon’s work will show her the way, but by her own genius she will found a technology based on the science by which I and my ornaments operate. And through careful application of these devices, all humanity—all sentient creatures—shall one day be liberated.”

  “It is a prophecy!” said Dr. Norbu, coming forward and sinking to his knees before the image.

  “No,” said the eleven heads of Chenrezi, lifting the violet gem so that its radiance permeated the cavern and filled the eyes of all those assembled. “It is more than that. It is a wish.”

  Glossary

  Amdo: The spectacular northern province of Tibet, comprising prairie land, forests, rivers, and snowy mountains.

  Amitabha: The Buddha who accepted Chenrezi’s vow to liberate all sentient beings, and who gave Chenrezi his thousand arms and eleven heads when this vow proved too overwhelming for the conventional physique.