********
You push the print button and watch as this conjured epilogue emerges from the printer in the Phool Chatti library. You smile with gratitude thinking of Bubha since, according to the thin swami who brought you tea this afternoon, the printer and computer were rented specially for your return from the Kumba Mehla, complements of one Cyrus ‘Bubha’ Rajnish. Granted, it was your filched money that Bubha used to rent the equipment, but you still are touched by this anonymous gesture of a friend to support your writing effort—to the tune of the several thousand rupees that you saw him secretly handing over to Guruji in the office yesterday.
You have put the computer and printer to good use today, first typing up the finale of this morning’s scene with Guruji. You are still a little shaky from the shock of staring a madman and death in the face, but at least now you can laugh about it and appreciate the catharsis that it inspired. As you reread the wishful epilogue just drafted, you suspect that its plethora of material success and pleasure reflects a counter-reaction to your perceived brush with death this morning.
You also take a minute to review the brief draft you completed this afternoon as a conclusion to The ReMinder, ending with your version of the parable of five blind men and the elephant. What a relief it is to have finished the two manuscripts that document your journey of spirit and the recent plunge into amnesia. Sure, a thousand details remain to integrate the Now or Never and The ReMinder into one book and then get it published. But for now, you respond unhurriedly to the dinner bell, enter the empty dining hall, and are reminded by an extra setting by your plate of Guruji’s comment that a friend arrived yesterday to see you. You anticipate that a tall, dark-haired Canadian will soon walk through the doorway to brighten your evening. But another brilliant surprise of the day arises with the entry of a short, blonde woman with a huge doorway to her heart. Prema! Your pulse quickens as she walks across the room and sits next to you while taking your hand.
“Have you packed yet for Kenya, Shoshoni?” you whisper with a warm smile as you dare to break the silence since no one else is yet in the dining hall.
“I didn’t know I was going,” Prema whispers back. “And what’s this with Shoshoni?”
You smile mischievously, “Oh, I just thought that Shoshoni sounded like a nice spiritual name when you are ready to change again. And the Kenya trip is a little wish I made in a fictional epilogue that we’ll have to wait to see if the book creates. The epilogue is supposed to test out the theory that what we imagine in the present moment helps form our future reality.”
“I’ll be eager to read what else you did with today’s final writing installment.” Prema gazes at you with eyes that seem filled with soft light. “Forgive me for being an uninvited reviewer, but I’ve enjoyed reading through Guruji’s copies of The ReMinder and the Now or Never manuscripts yesterday and today. And from what Guruji told me, you and he must have had quite a wild session this morning.”
“We did,” you reply. “But darn it, I wish that he had asked my permission to blab about it and share my manuscripts with you.”
Prema touches you gently on the arm. “He felt badly about confining me yesterday when I came to visit you, so the creampuff couldn’t refuse my request to at least read what you’d written since last time I was here.”
“Since last time? What does that mean?” you ask warily.
“Now don’t be upset, Steven, but when I was here in late December, Guruji let me read what you had written so far during your 1:00 a.m. sessions on Now or Never. That was after our lovely time at the beach where I’d taken a peek at Section One of The ReMinder, remember? I was so excited for you as I saw the two prongs of your writing converge just like Mr. Rokstad had said in his palm reading. And I came back here all the way from Poona especially to celebrate the completion of it all.”
“Well, it is lovely to see you,” you say trying to let go of lingering irritation at having your privacy invaded.
Prema continues with enthusiasm, “Plus I wanted to offer to help with book editing and the publishing details that lie ahead. I even have a trusted friend who is a literary agent. Do not just the right pieces emerge when we most need them?”
You give a nervous laugh and reply, “I certainly admire the way you go for what you want, dear, but—”
“And the universe always supports me in those things that are right,” Prema interrupts. “Oh, I just know that this book is going to be something special and that my becoming involved with it is no coincidence.”
You force a smile and state, “Your encouragement and support for Now or Never mean a lot to me, but after all I’ve just been through with Bubha’s machinations, Alberta’s manipulative dramas, and this morning’s episode with Guruji, I simply don’t feel like taking on a partner right now.” You reach out to touch Prema’s hand. “You can understand why I’m feeling a little gun-shy around trust and all, right?”
Prema looks disappointed as she takes your hand and replies, “Just give it some thought this evening, dear heart, and see what feels right.” She leans over and kisses your ear as she whispers, “Where there’s a will, is there not a way?”
You gaze into her eyes, not quite sure of what you see. But Guruji enters the dining hall at this moment and walks over to where the two of you are whispering. He leans down and gently wags his finger at Prema. “Remember, my dear, you’ve been instructed not to bother Steven today. You two can talk all you want beginning tomorrow once we’ve finished clearing all his post-hypnotic triggers.” Guruji gives you a friendly glance then adds with a laugh, “We’d hate to have someone accidentally shout twins and clap their hands in front of Steven, giving him another nasty case of paralysis.”
“Once was enough!” you concur with a smile at the amiable swami as he turns to take his place by the kitchen door. You refocus your attention to Prema but she is looking off into space, her thoughts having drifted elsewhere.
After the arrival of two other swamis and a handful of sadhus, dinner is served and consumed in its usual silence. While washing dishes afterwards, you and Prema speak briefly. You promise to consider her offer to help publish your book as you give her a good-bye hug on your way for a short walk.
“You know,” she says looking up tenderly at you, “I rather like the sound of Shoshoni as a new spiritual name.” You smile as you turn to the ashram gate and breathe in the cool of the evening air. “Be careful as it gets dark,” she calls down the driveway.
You absently wave in response as you ponder what course to take along the dim path leading into the twilight.
FEBRUARY 3 – 1:00 a.m., precisely
You awaken in the hut to a steady beep that is sounding from the doorway. Upon opening your bleary eyes, you see Prema standing with a candle in one hand and a ringing wristwatch in the other. She turns off the alarm, places the candle on the floor by the doorway, and walks silently to sit on your bed.
“To what do I owe this honor of being awakened by such a gorgeous vision?” you ask while putting your arms around Prema and pulling her down for a lingering kiss in the candlelight.
“I thought it would be fun to get a firsthand experience of what you’re like in the one o’clock hypnotic condition. Guruji tells me you’re extra gentle, vulnerable, and open to suggestion in this state,” Prema replies and gives you another lovely kiss. She then sits up and lays a hand on your chest.
“I do have the strong urge to head to his office now and to type in response to the hypnotic trigger of the ringing alarm,” you say as you feel the subtle energy from Prema’s hand bathing your heart. “But even zombie boy knows it is cozier to stay here and enjoy the nourishment at hand.”
Prema smiles down at you as she states, “Plus I thought that now would be a good time to talk about the future of our book.” You inhale to object but Prema continues firmly, “Isn’t that a good idea, Steven?”
You pause trying to sort out the question and an appropriate response through your grogginess. “Sure, now is as good
a time as any to talk,” you answer with little enthusiasm.
“Now or Never is really going to be popular back in the States,” Prema continues optimistically. “First, however, you’re going to need my help to get it published. Is that not so, Steven?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” you automatically respond.
“Second, I must get your permission to do some editing and to change the ending to your story a tiny bit.”
You rise to your elbows and object, “But the book is finished and the ending is fine the way it is.”
Prema looks at you sweetly. “But don’t you think, Steven, that it could be improved by a feminine touch?”
You try to make sense of this suggestion through the haze of your mind and end up replying, “Sure, why not?”
“Excellent!” Prema announces with a look of relief. “So with your permission granted, I can start right in on the changes this morning.”
You lie back trying to sort through what just happened. “This is all going so fast,” you say more to yourself than to Prema. Then it occurs to you. “Hey, did you just take advantage of the fact that I’m vulnerable and agreeable during this one o’clock hypnotic condition, so that you could horn in on my book?”
Prema replies without hesitation, “Of course I did, darling. The universe gave me a way to proceed and I did my part by embracing the gift and getting your agreement now.”
“But…” you begin to protest.
“Oh, Steven, don’t be childish. Don’t you trust that all actions serve to assist you along the journey of the soul?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“So I’m serving you perfectly by my reaching for the opportunities that come my way. We’re all partners in this trip of life helping each other to reach our destinies. And one aspect of my destiny is that I’m in the right place at the right time and with the right tools to share in the financial bounty of your book. Don’t you see how it all works, dear one?”
You squint and reply, “Frankly, I’m not really clear what you’re proposing to do.”
“I’m going to ensure that your book makes scads of money while you’re free to continue your soul journey unfettered by all the publishing details and business responsibilities.” Prema flashes you a killer smile. “Sounds good, does it not?”
You consider this notion and it indeed makes sense. “Not bad,” you reply warming to the idea as you gaze fondly at your nocturnal visitor. “So what do you propose we do with our upcoming fortune of royalties?”
Prema leans down to join you in a hug as she laughs, “Don’t worry, partner, I have that all that figured out.” She then whispers in your ear with a provocative flick of her tongue, “For now, let’s break the rules and go for a naked dip in the moonlight.”
“You’re kidding?” you exclaim. “Only a fool or a polar bear would frolic in the Ganga tonight!”
“And only a full-blown fool can master the cosmic joke,” Prema adds while pulling you to your feet. “You vill come vith me to zee river, and take off all zee clothes.”
You laugh while sweeping Prema into your arms. “Careful, Countessa, this zombie boy may have an idea or two of his own in the moonlight. And I’m already naked.” You bite her neck as you put Prema down and wrap a blanket around your body for the walk to the river. She pulls a flashlight from her pocket as you head together past the flickering candle and out the door.
It is a lovely, silent night as you walk hand in hand towards your favorite riverside beach. You ask Prema about her ideas for the book and the more she talks, the more enthusiastic you become at having a partner in the venture to handle the publishing details. By the time you reach the bathing spot, you are feeling delighted with the proposed arrangement.
“Of course!” you respond enthusiastically. “Steven J. Nixhall will be the perfect pen name we can use for the book. My Steven J. Shupe and your Jessica Nixhall standing together as one, like we’re twin bookends holding together the story!”
“With the ‘J’ in the middle representing the joy between us,” Prema adds as she takes the blanket from your bare body and lets it drop to the sand. “Like I said, where there’s a will, there’s always a way. One just has to be willing to seize the opportunity with the trust that everything serves in the grand scheme of life and death.”
She gives you a kiss and an embrace that lasts a very good minute. “After you, my dear,” she says pointing to the river. “Are you not the lead bookend that I am to follow?”
“Precisely,” you shout as you dash towards the river and dive in.
“We’re just like a pair of…” Prema pointedly waits to finish the sentence until your head pops above the surface of the swift waters. “Twins!” she shouts and claps her hands once, crisply.
It takes you a moment to realize what has just happened, to grasp the final betrayal that has left you floating helplessly downriver towards the boiling rapids. You are stunned and paralyzed from the neck down, a victim of your own post-hypnotic trigger and of a greedy partner who pulled it without hesitation. As your limp body is swept away by the current, you hear Prema call out from shore, “Have a lovely journey into the next world, dear one.”
It gives you little comfort to know that, without a doubt, she sincerely means it.
After a few minutes of watching the river, Prema turns and retrieves the blanket. She shakes out the sand as she retraces the steps where two sets of footprints have now become one. She turns into the path at the garden and proceeds to the hut for a good night’s sleep.
LATER, THAT SAME MORNING…
You awaken to a strange, five-sided room and for a moment do not remember where you are located. But a smile crosses your face as you recall fully the where, who, and what of the situation. A sign above your bed announces, IT’S PARADISE, NOT PRISON! —a sentiment with which you concur as you slip into an oversized robe and slippers to emerge into a lovely garden setting. After using the outhouse, you retrieve two manuscripts from the hut and climb a stone stairway to the roof. Paradise unfolds before your ascending gaze as fragrant flowers and colorful birds dance to the song of flowing waters. You put the manuscripts on a weathered nightstand stacked upon sturdy bricks, then take a stretch that feels oh-so-good to your body. The stretch extends into a bit of yoga, after which you peacefully sit upon a plastic chair.
You pick up the Now or Never and The ReMinder manuscripts which stand ready to unite as one to bring honor and royalties to their master. Ah, yes, now to reap the rewards of a job well done. But first a little editing is called for, you think. The ReMinder could use tightening and Now or Never needs a snappier pace. Maybe you can spice it up with ramblings of the subconscious and create a guest narrator to add some verve and efficacy.
You page through The ReMinder and take a moment to honor the life it represents, the past hopes, the identity of a man lost in the fluid swirls of time and space. You smile as the passage catches your eye about Dorothy in Oz, the woman who suffered no lasting remorse in squashing a bystander and who proceeded with Midwestern practicality to loot the dead body of its valuable slippers. You laugh as you kick up your legs to shake the large slippers that look like boats on your delicate feet that once pattered upon Iowa prairie. You enjoy as well the first rays of sun that at this very moment crest the nearby hill to reflect off your long, golden hair. Ah abundance, the hallmark of the universe if we but know in our hearts that we are worthy of its bounty.
The Ganga echoes its concurrence in song as it carries a billion—and one—blessings to the sea.
AFTER A MOMENT’S CONSIDERATION…
You toss your blonde locks over your shoulder and take a final breath of rooftop air before walking to the ashram compound. You feel like a little girl dressed in Steven’s oversized robe and slippers as you stroll through the garden and approach the office. Guruji looks up from his reading and assesses your outfit. “Oh dear me,” he says, “I was afraid you had a secret up your sleeve. Does this mean you’ve done something drastic, my dear?”
You nod with a smile and clap your hands above your head. “Twins! That post-hypnotic paralysis worked like a charm to send Steven down the river and me merrily to the bank with his book.”
Guruji turns pale and states, “I’m not judging you, Prema, but I must say you certainly exploited the situation to the fullest. Did you really paralyze and drown Steven just to get the royalties from his book?”
“Oh, now don’t start getting grumpy, my wise Guruji. You were the one who taught me that destiny unfolds in perfection as we each play our roles by embracing the opportunities that arise.”
“I know, my child,” Guruji replies still shaking his head, “but it’s distressing to see my Vedic hypnosis tools used to take a life. It’s not my belief to interfere in the karma of others, but I certainly wouldn’t have told you so much about Steven’s amnesia practice had I known what you were planning.”
You give a shrug of your delicate shoulders. “Little planning was involved. Step by step, the guiding hand just nudged me forward with new information until it all became clear last evening what precise opportunity for abundance was being provided to me.”
You walk around the desk and sit in Guruji’s lap with your arms around his neck. “I consider Steven’s demise an act of mercy for both himself and the world at large to be rid of that tormented psyche he was so absorbed with prodding and poking. Can you imagine the lovely freedom his soul is experiencing in the next world at this very moment?” You give the elderly swami a kiss that lasts a very good minute.
“Well, I’m going to miss him and his novel approach to life,” Guruji says as he points to papers on his desk that the author left lying in the library yesterday. “It looks like you may have inherited a conclusion to The ReMinder in his most recent compositions.”
You pick up the sheets, feeling grateful for the abundance that continues to flow. “You know, when you really go for your yes it’s amazing how the universe supports you fully. All I need now is to do some editing, send an email to my book agent friend, and show a wee bit of patience to wait for the royalties to start pouring in. Plus, of course, I’ll need to write the factual ending that completes Steven’s story all the way through his, his…watery departure, shall we say?”
“Must the book include his actual death and your hand in it?” Guruji responds with trepidation.
“Absolutely. It’s his story, fully and factually rendered to the end, that the palm reader saw intersecting successfully with his money line.”
Guruji looks at you with a deep frown as his practical concerns come to the fore. “But what about the trouble that describing the method of his death will cause once the book hits the shelves?”
You reply casually, “Not to worry. Even if anyone takes the murder seriously, I live a very low profile and am even planning to drop Prema and change my spiritual name when I return to Poona this week.”
“But what about this ashram and its Guruji?” the elderly swami objects. “I think the law might consider me an accomplice to the crime.”
“Oh Guruji, my silly creampuff. Do you really think the American authorities are going to call the police in India to check on one of India’s respected holy men about a murder in a book? And if investigators do ever show up, all you have to do is to tell them the truth,” you conclude while turning on your best Hindi accent. “Well, officer, the last day I saw this Shupe fellow he was sobbing like a baby at my desk. An unstable chap, I’m afraid. A friend told me she saw him later that night heading down the Ganga in silent retreat towards Allahabad.”
You laugh and give Guruji a hug as you get up from his lap. “No, my dear,” you conclude, “you will be safe here at your beloved ashram. This is India after all.”
Guruji cringes. “Would you kindly not use that expression, please?” The swami responds to your puzzled expression by explaining, “In our act yesterday morning, Steven made me use ‘India After All’ as a T-shirt logo to belittle my country. I suspect that something of a bigot lived under all that political correctness that he professed.”
“Now don’t start casting stones, dear one,” you admonish. “We have to keep the vibrations of this whole effort high and truthful to promote the success of the book and maximize the inflow of cash.”
“Not to worry, my energy is vibrating nicely,” Guruji replies with a growing smile. “I’m certain that Steven’s soul is well, and I’m happy for your impending financial success—a bounty that I trust you will generously share to support our struggling ashram and its devoted Guruji.” The swami peers at you above his reading glasses. “Agreed, my child?”
You nod your head in concurrence with his profit sharing plan, then you turn playful as you notice the studded fetish accessories from yesterday’s performance on the shelf. “Perhaps you would like to experience some divine union to celebrate our newly found abundance,” you suggest while grabbing the bullwhip and placing your foot on the swami’s knee. A deft release of the robe’s knot at your waist underscores your intent. “Anyone keen to penetrate into my open offer of ecstasy?”
Guruji blushes then clears his throat and assumes a theatrical air. “Nothing pleases me more than to see your golden gate open in sacred invitation. However, duty requires me to await the morrow for my hot rod to thunder ‘tween whispering lips that echo the rich refrain of the goddess.” He grins like a teenager and adds, “Not bad, huh?”
You laugh heartily. “Those acting lessons did have their effect on you, my Guruji, but be careful about mixing your hot rod with the metaphors of your coach. Too much contagion is already going around today with words and manuscripts.” You put down the whip, refasten the robe, and turn to the door. “I’ll just head up to the library and get started on tracking down Steven’s writing files on the computer. Be a darling and bring up some tea when you have a chance, would you please?”
“As you wish, my golden child,” the elderly sage replies with a bow of his head. “As you wish.”
LATER, UP IN THE LIBRARY…
You turn from the computer screen as Guruji enters the library, flour dust in his beard. “What a sweetheart,” you say as your beaming chef proudly presents the fruits of his labor. “Fresh chapati along with tea.”
“Consider the chapati a little baksheesh to soften you up to my request,” he announces while placing the treats by the computer. “I fear, Prema, that I must take a stand this morning that may not meet with your approval.”
“Yes?” you respond with curiosity peaked as Guruji sits in the adjoining chair.
“Phool Chatti Ashram was entrusted to me by my beloved master and I cannot allow scandal to compromise its sanctity. And it appears that you underestimate both India and the gravity of the problem created by the homicide last night.” Guruji reaches out and gives your hair a gentle stroke.
“In what way?”
“Just follow the logical sequence of events. Steven has parents and siblings that apparently care about him and who, after some months without email correspondence, will grow concerned. Naturally, they will call the U.S. embassy in Delhi which will in turn contact the police. Then a book comes out that describes a trail of his murder that leads squarely to this sacred ashram. Deception and lies are not part of my religious belief, plus with his family pushing to get answers, plus the book’s ending, plus…”
“But Guruji, it’s Steven’s full story that intersects his palm’s deep money line. If I fail to report his final demise or significantly alter his past writing, the intersection is missed and I jeopardize the book and our financial success.”
The swami is ready with a response. “I’m not asking you to change any facts but I must insist that you write a little addendum, a postscript of sorts to obscure the trail.” His face and tone soften as he gets up to share a hug, “And I know, child, that you are clever enough to figure something out. Just use your lovely energy and creativity.”
You hold Guruji’s hand while the wheels turn quickly in your mind. “Hmm, I think you may be right since Steve
n’s notion of truth gives me so much leeway.”
“How so?” asks the elderly swami.
“You know, all his nonsense about imagination and reality interweaving to create one another, and that paradox is the only real truth.” The more you think, the clearer it gets. Your eyes sparkle as a strategy and ideas pour in for the book’s ending. You give Guruji a big kiss and turn to the computer keyboard. “Yes indeed, a little rescue from the river this morning should get a paradox going to convolute the trail,” you state while enthusiastically starting to draft the necessary addendum.
“That’s the spirit,” Guruji smiles as he heads to the door. “And if possible, find some way to dissuade Steven’s family from investigating his disappearance.”
ADDENDUM
“A pair of knaves with a paradox
will customarily trump an opponent’s hand.”
- from A Game of Cards,
by Sir Author Koan Hoyle
The Nyxall Chronicles: The Now or Never Page 16