Coattail Karma

by Verlin Darrow

  “Pune.”

  “Ah. Beautiful Pune. My brother will drive you there for a fraction of the price. He is almost as safe a driver as myself. And there is a very scenic expressway now. You will see the country and enjoy yourselves. It is much shorter than flying because Pune is only ninety kilometers away. The person that told you to fly there did not know their business.”

  “Shall we get another taxi?” Sam asked. “Are you refusing to take us?”

  “Two hundred rupees to the airport. Door to door. All your luggage, too. No extra charge.”

  “One hundred rupees,” Sam said. “No religious person would try to cheat us this way.”

  The driver glared at her. “You have been to this country before, haven’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “I swear on Baba’s grave I am a religious man,” the driver said. “One hundred and twenty rupees.”

  “Which Baba is this?” I asked, wondering if we had spiritual business with the driver.

  “Meher Baba, of course—The Great Awakener.”

  “That’s where we’re going,” I said. “To Baba’s tomb.”

  He peered at me through half-closed eyelids. “You’re a holy man,” he said. “Your kundalini has risen. The snake is awake.” He turned to Sam. “And you are most certainly not a movie star,” he said. “You are beyond the movies. You are holy too. Your heart is open and pure.”

  He watched us. Nothing was going to happen until we acknowledged what he said.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “You’re right.”

  “May I have a blessing? The fee now is one hundred and ten rupees and a blessing. Special holy person discount. But you should know that going to Pune does not make sense if you’re going to Ahmednagar.”

  “We have our orders,” I said in an effort to curtail the debate.

  Sam agreed to the driver’s terms, promising to bless him once we’d arrived.

  “What’s your name?” I asked him.

  “Vijay Jayaraman.”

  “I’m Sid. This is Sam.”

  “Sam? This is not a woman’s name,” he said.

  “Samavati,” she said. “My full name is Samavati.”

  “You’re a Buddhist, then. I know the story of Samavati. Are you really her?”

  “Her reincarnation?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Perhaps,” Sam answered.

  “Good, good. You seek to keep your own counsel about such matters. Who am I to you?”

  We piled in and headed out. The other drivers accelerated and swerved as if they were on the way to a hospital emergency room with a woman in labor. At least that’s how they drove when an occasional gap in the traffic allowed their frenzy to assert itself. Mostly, the traffic was too dense to be called traffic. Vijay told us not to worry, that the domestic airport was only ten kilometers away, but I still wasn’t sure we would make our flight.

  After another half mile, in which we saw a low-speed fender bender and a scenario involving a motorcycle and a very agile pedestrian, the traffic cleared a bit and we were able to pick up speed.

  A moment later, a delivery truck rammed us from the side and sent us careening off the road into a storefront. I hit my head on something and blacked out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I woke up in a pile of brightly colored saris. There was a lot of yelling. And European-style sirens wailed plaintively in the distance.

  I was only sort of awake. My senses were operating—I could see and hear—but I couldn’t process most of the incoming data. It was all a jumble. And my head hurt like hell above my right ear. It was both a sharp pain and a deep ache; when I lifted my head to look around, it felt a lot worse.

  I lay just inside the doorway of an open-air shop. I could only make out chaotic forms and colors outside; I didn’t see anyone I recognized. And I couldn’t remember much. I knew I was Sid, but I had no recollection of where I was or what had just happened.

  “Let me through,” a male voice said in Indian-accented English.

  My twin brother stood in front of me a moment later. I hadn’t remembered I was a twin.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of here.” He bent down, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to my feet.

  “I believe we should leave him immobile,” another man said.

  “I am your brother Raj,” the first man told me. “It’s not safe for you here. They’ve taken the woman.”

  “Woman? What woman?” I hurt all over, especially the side of my head.

  “You have amnesia?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Come on,” he exhorted, guiding me toward a tiny white van that was parked nearby. I stumbled through a crowd of people, bumping into several, which hurt like hell. One familiar-looking face stood out, and I associated a name with it—Vijay. He called to me as Raj escorted me into the passenger seat of his van and buckled me into the seat belt. I remembered not wearing one in the last car. And then my head throbbed mercilessly, and I closed my eyes.

  When I opened them again, we were driving on a modern superhighway in moderate traffic. I didn’t seem to have a problem with my memory now.

  “Where’s Sam?” I asked.

  “The woman?”

  “Yes.” I brushed a lock of hair off my forehead. My hand was bloody. That wasn’t good.

  “She was injured as well. Not seriously, I think, but several men bundled her into their car and said they were taking her to hospital. I don’t believe they were sincere.”

  “Do you have a phone? Let’s call the police,” I said, shifting to face him. We needed to do something right away.

  “One of the men was a policeman,” he told me.

  “Oh.” My heart sank, but my brain must’ve still been selectively scrambled, because in just a few seconds, I returned to a relatively calm baseline. Why aren’t I panicked about Sam’s welfare? The love of my life just survived a serious accident and may have been kidnapped. For God’s sake, where’s my concern, my fear, and all the rest?

  “There is a great deal of corruption here,” Raj said. “I believe these people were watching the airport. And the accident wasn’t an accident.”

  I liked looking at his face. And he seemed to be sincere in his concern for me. “Which ‘people’ are they?” I asked.

  “I need to explain a great deal to you,” he said. “You have been laboring under some misimpressions.”

  “Fine. Go ahead. But first tell me where we’re going.” The abstract answers could wait. I needed to get oriented in the here and now.

  “To Meherabad—your destination. You cannot fly there now. I’ll drive you. It’ll give us time to talk and get to know one another.”

  “I don’t want to leave without Sam,” I said.

  “Let me explain, and then you can see what you want,” Raj replied. He drove well compared to the alarming antics of the drivers around us. He probably would’ve only received four or five tickets back home so far.

  “Fine. Go ahead.”

  “Marco is not who he seems to be. He is a very dangerous man. Whatever he has said to you is unlikely to be true. He says what he needs to say to accomplish his own ends. He is convincing. But I learned the hard way who he truly is.” He paused and glanced at me to see how I was taking this. It was like me looking at me. I wondered if I’d ever get used to that.

  “I’m listening,” I said, rubbing my shoulder. I’d have a huge bruise there soon.

  “Marco recruited me. He needed a source inside Kasritri Sanganika—Bhante’s group—and I was resentful and greedy. He has access to a lot of money. Did he tell you he won the lottery?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is a lie. He has a backer of some sort, and I don’t believe this man’s money was come by honestly.” He shook his head in a way that made me think he was regretful that he even lived in a world where such things were allowed to happen.

  “Who’s the backer?”

  “I don’t know.” He bowed his
head now. “I am ashamed to admit that I took their dirty money.”

  “Why were you resentful?” I asked. This felt like a therapy session.

  “The others from Western backgrounds were favored,” Raj said. “And when I heard about you, it was the last straw. You had paid no dues. You were an outsider. Why should you be the one?”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “What others? I know we’re not clones, Raj.”

  “How do you know that? From Marco?” He shot me a glance.

  “Well, yes. And it’s so unlikely, too.”

  “There are thirty-one of us,” Raj said with pride in his voice. “We really are clones made from Buddha’s DNA. I seriously doubt that any of us are his reincarnation, but that is a separate matter. Marco has his reasons for wishing you to believe otherwise.”

  “Have you been in a room with more than two of these so-called clones?” I asked.

  “Of course. I’ve met them all. Well, all the ones who’ve been found so far.”

  My gut churned, and a chill ran up my spine. “If Marco is such a bad guy,” I asked, “how did he develop all his amazing spiritual powers? How has he helped me become more alive—more open, more loving? And why?”

  “You know he lived in Palo Alto?” Raj turned onto another, newer highway, along with a swarm of other unruly drivers.

  “Yes.” I jammed my foot down onto a nonexistent brake pedal. Merging in India catalyzed basic reflexes.

  “He owned a kung fu school there, but mainly he was a Stanford professor. His real name is Bruno Bompiani. He was in the experimental psychology department, and he collaborated with other departments to develop human-potential-enhancing drugs. After some years, he decided to experiment on himself, and he became psychic. He hid this from the others. He also discovered that if he put certain drugs in people’s food and drink, they would have internal experiences that mimic legitimate spiritual awakenings. Much as LSD or ecstasy provide intense sensory input and expand one’s mind, Marco’s new drugs did the same, but even more effectively. If you think back, you’ll find that you ate or drank shortly before all your energy experiences. It was that way with me.”

  I considered this, and as far as I could remember, it did seem to be true. This was the first thing Raj had told me that had substantial traction. I’d been trying to listen open-mindedly, but until this point I guess I’d just been looking for the flaws in his exposition.

  “How could you possibly know all this?” I asked as Raj dodged a motorcycle.

  “I’ll get to that. Just listen. The same drug that enhanced Marco’s mind had a side effect of changing his personality. He became grandiose and selfish. Rather than publishing the results of his study, he stole all the medications and the records and disappeared. This was quite a few years ago. He is an even more dangerous man now, unfettered by a sense of right and wrong. Above the law. Above consequences. He seems to use his powers to help people, but this is a trick. It’s all about him—his goals and his ambitions. He is the ultimate narcissist—the ultimate sociopath. And he is wrapped in spirit. Hidden in spirit. This is what is so dangerous.”

  “Why should I believe you?” I asked. Now my hip was killing me. I tried to scoot in the seat to relieve the pain, but nothing helped.

  “I am you. Can’t you trust yourself?”

  “Apparently not.” There were a few things that Raj hadn’t explained. “What about making people invisible?” I asked.

  “Tell me this part of your story,” Raj said, so I did.

  “Whoever else Frank works for, he also works for Marco,” he replied. “When I told Marco I wouldn’t help anymore, he signed up Frank. So it was all an act on the rowboat. Of course those people could see you. And Frank kidnapped you because Marco wanted to make sure you came to him in New Zealand. He is persona non grata in the US. If he were to enter the country, he’d risk being arrested.”

  “What about the attack on the cave—our escape down the cliff?”

  “That was Marco’s first try at getting hold of you. But Frank didn’t know about the back door.”

  “What about Sam?”

  “I don’t know about her,” Raj said, shaking his head again. He was an expressive head shaker. This time it seemed as though he didn’t care that he couldn’t answer my question.

  “RGP?”

  He shook his head again, sending the same message.

  “Bhante. What’s he up to?” I asked.

  “He is a good man who has all of mankind’s benefit on his mind. We can trust him.”

  “This is a lot to sort through, Raj,” I said.

  “Of course.”

  I tried to think about what he’d said, but my brain was still sludgy. I watched the scenery for a few minutes instead. We drove by massive gray concrete apartment buildings—dozens of them. There were almost no trees and only an occasional patch of green on the ground, but quite a few residents were growing flowers or vegetables on their small balconies. There weren’t sidewalks, but the narrow roadways between the buildings were crowded with bicyclists and walkers. I was reminded of an apiary I once visited outside Washington DC on a school trip.

  “You said you’d tell me how you know Marco’s backstory,” I reminded Raj.

  “Yes. There was a man who approached me in Paihia and told me the truth. His name is Paul Arthur. He said he was looking for his sister and that she had been Marco’s student.”

  “That’s Sam—the woman in the taxi with me. Was he a blond guy—very handsome?”

  “That’s him, yes. He showed me various things he’d downloaded from the internet. And I have a confession, Sid.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I led him to believe I was you. I learned an American accent in the cave so I could pretend I was Tim—one of the inner circle of clones—to get information for Marco. Then I pretended with Paul as well. I’m sorry.” Raj had slowed down while he told me this, and now he sped up again as traffic passed us.

  I was beginning to feel very tired. “I’m going to close my eyes again,” I said, and I did. In hindsight, it was clear that I’d sustained a serious concussion. I hadn’t received any medical care, and I might not have awakened from one of these involuntary naps.

  I did wake up, though, when Raj jammed on the brakes and cursed in a language I didn’t know.

  “What?” I asked.

  “There is a taxi in front of us that has suddenly slowed down.” He looked to the sides. “There are taxis beside us as well. And one behind us. They’re all slowing down.”

  We had no choice but to decelerate to a crawl and then finally stop. Raj’s eyes widened, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. He locked his door and stared fixedly at the windshield. No one emerged from the cab in front of us.

  A moment later, Sam’s face appeared at my window. She smiled and beckoned me with a finger, and I reached to open my door to join her.

  “Don’t go!” Raj shouted. “This is a trap! Marco is behind this!”

  Before I could open the door, he stomped on the gas, and the van began to smash its way through a gap between two of the taxis. The crunching and screeching noises sickened me—I think some part of me remembered the sounds of the earlier crash. At first, I wasn’t sure we’d break free—we were starting from a dead stop, after all, and our vehicle was hardly a hot rod. But the cabs were very light and flimsy. Raj’s van shoved one sideways, and the back corner of another one crumpled as we hit it, scattering bits of cheap metal and plastic all over the road.

  I seemed to be locked into a passive state. I hadn’t decided to go along for the ride nor was I continuing to try to join Sam. I was just sitting and watching events unfold. My head injury had shut down my initiative.

  The engine roared as Raj accelerated over the debris and surged into the open lane ahead of us. The van was actually quite peppy. I turned to look back, which hurt like hell. My head was still very screwed up. The traffic behind us was a chaotic mess, and the taxis were blocked from pursuing us. Raj had m
ade a getaway. I had no idea if this was a good or a bad thing. I couldn’t find a way to successfully process what Raj had said, or what was going on now, for that matter. I tried anyway.

  Was Sam colluding with an evil version of Marco—Bruno, that is? She had certainly vouched for him. If he was bogus, so was she. Either that, or he’d duped her too—going back years. I knew one thing. Our love was real. That wasn’t up for grabs.

  Maybe Raj was inventing various plausible fictions to manipulate me—to get me to side with his cause. It came down to a few basic questions. Which was more likely? Clones or Marco’s magic? I felt as though I needed to pick one or the other, but in the state I was in, I couldn’t.

  What I knew for sure in that moment was that I was confused, in great pain, and when I tried to think, my head hurt more. When I stopped thinking and just gazed out the windshield again, my fingers came together in an elaborate, unfamiliar pose. Raj zoomed down the highway, and I applied my hands to my head and relaxed. I could feel cool waves of energy flow through me, and the pain began to recede. Was I a healer now, too? Could a narcissistic maniac bestow that upon someone?

  Raj raced on, checking his rearview mirror every few seconds. He exited the freeway after a few miles, and now we were in some sort of high-end suburb, with odd-looking homes—a pastiche of various international styles. Behind high, jagged glass-topped stone walls, I saw the second story of a stuccoed hacienda, a Swiss chalet, and a gothic, church-like stone home.

  My head was feeling better and better, thank God. I left my hands where they’d migrated to.

  “What are you doing?” Raj asked. He’d been too focused on his breakneck driving to pay attention to me earlier.

  “I don’t know. Healing myself, maybe.”

  “Our brother studied Reiki,” he said. “But it only works on small problems.”

  We wound through a more middle-class area now, although if it looked middle-class to me, it was probably very affluent for India.

  “Our brother?” I asked.

  “Our clone brother, Sid. We call each other brothers.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked. If we were en route to Meher Baba’s place before, we certainly weren’t now. It was a testament to my still-untreated head injury that I hadn’t questioned this before. Along with alleviating my pain, the energy from my hands seemed to be clearing my mind.