by Smith, Skye
The meal was simple, nutritious, vegetarian food. Thin chapattis, lentil curry, spinach curry, saffron white rice, and lassi to drink. In Indian fashion, there were huge amounts of rice, and small amounts of curry, the curries spicy enough to flavor a lot of rice. The lassi, a yoghurt drink, cooled the mouth if you got too much spice.
To Maya this food was very familiar. Replace the wheat chapatti with a corn tortilla and you would have Mexican food.
Marique passed a small bottle of hand sanitizer around. Eating with unclean fingers was how most tourists got sick. The only cutlery was a spoon. She took out a tissue and wiped her spoon to make sure it was dry, and then wiped her glass. Just one drop of washing-up water could make you sick for the rest of your trip. Maya followed her lead. Ajay did not bother.
Once everyone was seated, one of the yoga instructors led them in a meditation. In America the equivalent would be saying grace at the table. Most people looked down as if praying. Maya, Marique, and a few others looked up and out at the patches of pink and red sky between the trees.
After a minute, everyone began to eat. Some of the yoga women tried to eat rice the Indian way. This meant smushing the curries into their rice with the fingers of their right hand and then pushed the mix up to their mouths with the same fingers. Over at the VIP table the greasy ones opened wide and pushed entire fistfuls of rice into their mouths, which pushed the previous fistful down their throats. They had all the grace of Americans gorging themselves on hamburgers at Mac Dee's.
With her spoon Maya put rice, then curry onto the chapatti on her plate and then rolled it burrito style and ate it Mexican style. This simple act made all the women that were trying the Indian way, look clumsy. She could feel the heat of the chilies warming her lips and face. It was a lovely rush that cleared the sleepiness from her vodka-charged mind.
"Will you be at yoga tomorrow morning?" one of the Spokanas asked while rolling a rice and curry mix over and over in her open mouth.
Maya kept her own reply until her mouth was empty. "I plan to be, although large groups are not my thing. I would prefer to do the salutation to the sun at a viewpoint where you can actually watch the sun rise."
"Ooh, ooh," said one of the other women eagerly. "I know just the place. It's at the back of the grounds on a mound and from there you can see the eastern horizon over the far wall."
"Oh good," Maya smiled at her. "Could you fetch me just before sunrise? I am at the first bung..."
"Oh we all know where you stay," said another woman icily. She nodded to Ajay. "He must be rolling in dough to afford both of you."
Marique coughed and swallowed her mouthful before she spoke in an exaggerated French accent. " 'E is one of the reechest men in India," she held up her glass showing that her fingers did not touch around it. "And 'is shishn is so thick that 'e completely fills me."
If it had been possible for Ajay to blush, he would be scarlet by now. Marique put down her glass and moved her hand under the table to squeeze his knee playfully, and then moved her hand slowly up the inside of his leg to gently squeeze something else.
"What's a shishn?" asked a Spokana. All up and down the table there were hushed giggles and little puffs of spat out rice. "Oh! Never mind. I just figured it out."
Ajay closed his eyes and let out a soft moan. Marique let go of him. She had gone too far for polite company, so she was still okay at a table of gossiping yoga women. She looked up and down the table. They all knew what she had just done to him. She could either bow her head or brave it out.
"You know 'ow with an old toilet you must sometimes jiggle the 'andle to stop it from running." she asked, absolutely dead pan. "I find men are much the same."
First there were giggles and then chuckles and then outright laughter all up and down the table, and the more the women laughed, the more they had to laugh, and the more the only man at the table shrank down in his chair.
The cool gusts of a sudden thunder storm cleared the dining room quickly. The damp winds swept across the mountains from the Indian Ocean and down the back sides of the mountains into Pune. A gentle rain had started, but they were assured it would not be heavy because this was the rain shadow side of the mountains. As It was dark with no sun to dry damp skin and clothes, everyone fled to their rooms to stay dry.
* * * * *
With the cool damp came the spicy smell of tropical jungle vegetation. With the cool damp, came the mosquitoes. Their veranda was humming with them. Curled into a light blanket, Maya hid behind the mosquito screens of the bungalow and read about Gandhi, and tried to ignore the sounds of passion coming from the bedroom.
There was a gentle knock from outside and she went to the screen door and looked out at the veranda. An old Indian man stood on the steps in the rain, using a banana leaf as an umbrella. She threw the blanket over her shoulders like a cloak, and stepped outside. "Not tonight, Sanjay. No more today. It is late."
"May I come up?" he asked. He looked around nervously to see if anyone was watching. "Gardeners are not allowed near the bungalows after dark."
"Yes, come in and get out of the rain. You are soaking. Sit down, while I get you a towel."
"Never mind the towel. Just listen." He left the soaking banana leaf on the step and move closer to her. "Manfred has offered you a position here, has he not? To be a beacon to bring new interest to the ashram."
"Yes, did you send him?"
"No, not me. The instructors had a meeting and sent him, them, for those three men act as one. I have come to warn you not to allow any of those three to touch you. I am not even talking about sex. Don't even let them shake your hand. There is a darkness in them that steals auras."
She bit her lip to stop from saying what was on her mind. Instead she asked, "Do you let them touch you?"
"Not any more. Never. Now I must go." He turned and picked up his leaf and disappeared into the shadows of the plumeria bush on the dark side of the bungalow. When he knew he was hidden, he stopped to turn around and watch the young beauty turn and walk back into the bungalow. He felt like a silly school boy, watching a woman from the shadows.
It was now actually chilly in the bungalow and Maya walked about pulling the windows to and turning off the lights. The storm was moving on now, because she could see a planet in the western sky. She hoped it would be clear enough to see a sunrise in the morning.
This time her excuse for sleeping with her friends was that it was chilly. Tonight instead of being spread out across the bed, they were curled in close to each other. She slipped under the sheet and created a Marique sandwich.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Eight women were waiting on the mound at the far end of the ashram compound to welcome the sun with a yoga salutation. They all had mats so the damp grass was not a problem. The mound was a collapsed building covered with new soil. It could have collapsed a thousand years ago or only ten years ago. Such was the speed that tropical plants claimed back the monuments of civilization.
One of the yoga instructors had been sent with them, and began her usual class but was quickly overruled by the other women. They had not come for a class but to meditate with Maya. This time they all took off their tops when Maya did, and they all pressed their palms together when she did. This time they knew what to expect, knew the feeling, wanted the feeling, were searching for the feeling.
Maya had no sooner cleared her mind and allowed her aura its freedom, then the women around her started oohing and aahing. She felt like she was watching from above and had a clear picture in her mind of snow white wisps of light moving between the women, caressing the women. She was hoping to sense another aura.
She didn't know how it worked, but she knew that her aura was fishing for auras, trying to bring them out, trying to make them stronger. She knew from the sounds that some of the women were making that many were giving themselves up to their sexual energy. That was their choice.
The instructor tapped her on the shoulder, so she pulled herself back
from emptiness and grabbed her elbows and pulled her aura back. The tap marked ten minutes and it had passed both like a second, and an hour.
She looked around and asked if everyone was okay. Everyone seemed okay. Some were still in a trance, like when you are in a good dream and mentally turn the sound of the alarm clock into something in your dream so you can sleep through it. Some were curled on their mats as if they had just had sex.
"I am going to do another ten minutes. If you don't want to, all you have to do is get about ten feet away from me and you will not feel my aura," she said to everyone.
The instructor spoke up. During the first ten minutes she had stayed well away from Maya because it was her duty to watch the time and tap her shoulder. "Could someone else take my watch and tap her on the shoulder after ten minutes? I have never felt her, and I dearly would like to."
No one volunteered. "Ask Sanjay, the gardener," said Maya pointing to an old man pruning a fruit tree about thirty feet away.
"That dirty old man. He is only pretending to work while he ogles our breasts," said the instructor.
Could it be that a senior staff member did not know who Sanjay was? "Then give him an official reason to watch our breasts so that we can all relax. Go on, give him your watch so you can join in."
When she returned with Sanjay, who was checking the watch, Maya spoke out. "Last time some of you allowed your sex organs to intercept the feeling and use it for their own purposes." She heard her words being translated into three languages. There were also some cheers and some laughter. "This time don't let that happen. Ignore your sexuality so that the feeling can enter your other organs."
They ended up doing two more sets of ten minutes. With each set Maya's aura was stronger, and with each set the other women’s sensing of it was stronger. By the end of the last set, most of the women were very slow to return to earth from their trance. They didn't want to, and they weren't forced to. There was no hurry. It was a beautiful morning, and breakfast waiting in the dining room was buffet style. It would wait for them.
"I want to go further. I want to feel more," said the instructor.
"Are you sure you can handle it?" Maya asked.
"Please, I want to recognize the feeling so that I can find it again inside me."
Maya turned to the old man and asked him to tap her shoulder every minute, and pull her hand away if she was still in a trance after ten. Maya moved so that she was sitting just behind the instructor. She told her to meditate, to clear her mind. Then she brought up her aura again, but controlled, not wild, because this time it would be focused.
She went into the pushing pizza position so that the palm of her left hand would focus and aim the aura outwards, then she aimed it at the instructors back. The pinging began almost immediately. Just after the second tap on her shoulder, the pinging paid off. She could sense the instructor's aura. Now she felt the resonance of her own aura building the strength of the instructor's.
She continued for a few more taps before she opened her eyes briefly and grabbed her elbows to lessen her own. It was time to switch to her right hand, her sensing hand and explored the woman's body with her hovering hand. She was going to try something new. She was going to use her sensing to search for the source of the woman’s aura. She was going to find the answer to where a body hid such a thing.
She started at the thighs, but could barely sense it, so she kept moving her hand around to the base of the spine. There it was stronger, probably because of the sexual organs. She kept moving her hand higher, up the spine. It was quite strong in her breasts, but she could not tell if that was because of the heart or the lungs or the breasts themselves. She hovered her hand around the woman’s front, which was difficult without touching her. Touching her would have spoiled the sensing.
The instructor was a big woman, built like a milk maid, so Maya got up on her knees so she could better reach around her. She sensed something in one of the breasts and hovered there for a long time. Satisfied, she moved her hand across the upper chest and then her neck.
The ninth tap. The face, the skull, the ears, the base of the skull, the back of the neck. Definitely the back of the neck. She was sure the aura had been hiding in the back of the neck, the medulla, the tail of the brain that controlled the most fundamental workings of the body.
Her hand was pulled away, and she opened her eyes and thanked Sanjay for his assistance. Then she slumped against him, drained from all the concentration. He said not a word, he just helped her to sit again and then covered her with her shirt for she was shivering.
A half a dozen voices called out, "I want that too" or variations of same. Maya held up her hand to stop the chatter. Couldn't they see that she needed to recuperate?
The instructor hadn't moved. Maya reached forward and checked her pulse and her breath. She was far away. Sanjay spoke out in a commanding tone. "Leave these two here and go and have breakfast. This is finished for now, and these two need time alone."
Some resisted being told what to do by an untouchable gardener, but they were pushed along the trail by the others. Sanjay laid the watch on the instructor's mat and went back to pruning fruit trees. Maya pushed herself closer to the instructor so that her breasts touched her back and then reached around her on both sides and held both of her hands.
"Are you with us yet?" Maya asked her.
"Do I have to be?"
"The rest are gone."
"Good. I'm not in the mood for herding sheeple. I feel too good inside to bother with anyone but me."
"Your ashram name is Lakshima, yes. With my aura I may be able to help you, you know, with your breast."
"You know. But only the clinic and my doctor know. I haven't even told my family, my mother. I am hiding from it, hoping it goes away. Hoping to live here at the ashram for just a little while longer before I must go back to Sweden."
"What options did they give you?" asked Maya hesitantly, not wanting to pry.
"The usual. Mastectomy as a last resort."
"Well," Maya offered, "I can start a treatment, but I may not be here long enough for it to work. The only other person I have met here with an aura strong enough is the old gardener. If you want, I will teach the old man how to do it."
"Are you sure the old man can help? I really don't want that old letch touching me. Not there," Lakshima whispered. "He is always staring at me there."
"I think he can help you. What do you have to lose? Your modesty? The next time you see the doctors they will tell you if there is a change. That will tell you whether it is working. How long until your next check up?"
Lakshima paused thinking, "Next month, my appointment is next month. I have the plane ticket already. Mumbai - Stockholm return. Return. I live in hope." She looked around searching the ground.
"Your watch is on your mat. He left it there."
"Not that." Lakshima waved her hand as if to gather in air to her face. "I smelled a flower from home. It grows wild in the fields near where I grew up. Field lily we call it. It must be growing around here somewhere."
"Lily of the Valley. It is my scent. Did you sense pure whiteness?"
"Yes, I thought I was soaring in the clouds, but then it became too white, like standing in a field covered in fresh snow, but with the scent of wildflowers."
"Later tonight," Maya whispered, "visit me in my bungalow. Together we will train the old man. Best come after dinner when it is cooler."
They helped each other to stand, rolled up their mats, and walked towards the dining room together. Maya peeled off to go to her bungalow to use the bathroom.
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - the Ashram by Skye Smith
Chapter 15 - Ashram in Pune, India
An ounce of practice is worth more than tons of preaching. - Mahatma Gandhi.
The kids must have gone to breakfast for the bungalow was empty and the door was closed. She cast off the sarong from around her shoulders and dived for the toilet. It was only a
fter she had washed and was waltzing around the bungalow feeling delicious and wondering what to wear to breakfast, that she saw the note. 'Gone Shopping'
Some friends. Didn't they think that she would want to go shopping? She decided to wear her short yellow sundress, with the white Indian leggings underneath, and a sparkley sarong as a shawl.
When she got to the buffet, her women shoved along and made room for her amongst them. None of them were pretending to be vegetarians this morning, not after such an experience. They were all eating eggs and beaming at each other. For that matter, they were beaming at everyone, even the greasy fat guys at the VIP table.
After breakfast she joined some of the women at poolside. These were the women who must soon head back to the winter of their homelands and they needed a tan to prove that they had been to the tropics.
The sun quickly became too strong for her fair skin so she had a swim, sundried herself, and went back to the shade of the bungalow veranda to read more about Gandhi. She was shaken awake hours later by Marique.
She looked around disoriented for a moment and then watched as Ajay set some open coconuts on the table, ready for adding vodka.
"Is that it? All this time shopping and all you bring back is vodka?" Maya grabbed for the first coco loco and took a sip through the straw.
"No, that's not all we brought back," replied Marique, mimicking the American's drawl. She disappeared into the bungalow, and when she returned she was wearing a cloak. A long white cloak with a full and stylish hood. The cut of it was old fashioned, as in 19th century, but the fabric was new and wrong. It was made of the same gauzy cotton that the burqas were made of, but white.
"That is fabulous!" cried Maya. She stood up and immediately wanted to try it on.
"It is terrible!" cried Ajay. "I tried so hard to dissuade her. There is no reasoning with her. This is a widow's cloak, acha, for a funeral. That is why it is white."
