The Goddess Legacy

by Russell Blake

  He tried not to think about it as he continued into town, but the desperation was everywhere he looked, especially in the hopeless eyes of the children, who stared back at him with numb acceptance of circumstances he couldn’t imagine. The cows had it far better than these people, he thought, as a relatively fat bovine with garlands of flowers draped around its neck waddled along in front of him.

  The wonder of the place for Spencer wasn’t the extreme circumstances – he’d seen more than enough of those while living in Peru – but rather that he was witnessing present day events and not something from centuries before. While on the web he’d seen an account of increased suicide rates among farmers, whose crops were failing due to drought and whose only perceived options were starvation or taking their own lives, usually after sending their families to survive however they could in the cities.

  It was easy for him to understand how slavery and prostitution could flourish in such an environment, where criminals preyed on weak and unsuspecting new arrivals, who were always flat broke and desperate to earn enough to eat for the day. It was in this way that mothers sold their children to pimps for a handful of rupees, their spirits and bodies so desiccated that they could shed no tears. The authorities were powerless, due to sheer numbers, to prevent atrocities from becoming so mundane they weren’t even commented on in the media.

  He tried to imagine how foreigners – with their glowing complexions, expensive clothes, and seemingly endless prosperity – must appear to these untouchables, and shook his head as he walked, feeling guilty even though he’d done nothing wrong. Only a few days before, he’d been worrying about losing most of his fortune due to the larceny of the hedge fund to which he’d entrusted his money, and now he was among an entire population for whom the cost of a nice dinner at home could support a family for a month.

  Spencer told himself that his only crime was to have been born on the right side of the planet, and that he was blameless for these people’s circumstance, but the assurance felt hollow. The truth was if someone had shown him footage, he would have tuned out, preoccupied by his own concerns, there being a limit to how much suffering he could endure before losing interest. This was the way of the world, and he couldn’t change it: his neighbors would agonize over which color Bentley coupe to buy next, which Aspen ski condo would appreciate the most, which first-growth Bordeaux showed the greatest promise of aging well, and he would gripe about how poorly his Lamborghini ran, how impractical it was in traffic, how much fuel it consumed each week.

  But here, the vapidity of his existence struck home with a resonance he’d never experienced.

  He arrived at the outskirts of town soaked through with sweat and flagged down a bicycle rickshaw, light-headed from lack of hydration. The driver nodded once when he told him what he was after, and began pedaling for a district where a good quality digital camera could be bought at a reasonable price – and a hot, tired son of privilege could cool himself with a chilled drink in the comfort of the shade. He’d considered using the crappy built-in camera on the cell phone, but saw no reason to take any chances.

  Spencer noted that there were far more women in traditional garb than he’d seen in New Delhi, and presumed that it held true the further from the metropolis he traveled. He knew from his online reading that Mumbai and Bangalore were urban and cosmopolitan, as was Delhi, with skyscrapers jutting into the sky like giant fangs, but the poor usually wore the robes of the provinces, their only possessions the clothes on their back, immediately identifying them as victims to be exploited by the big-city operators.

  The store was an electronics emporium with loud music from overhead speakers and countless muted big-screen televisions flashing the same film – a musical, Spencer guessed by the elaborate dance numbers. He took his time with his purchase, having nowhere else to be, and after an hour walked out of the store with a Canon that fit in the palm of his hand whose images he could download to any computer and send to Allie.

  He spent the afternoon on a computer in a cyber café, drinking bottled water and eating his fill of junk food, sticking with packaged goods in an effort to avoid stomach troubles. The brief stop in the public restroom had given him all too much information on the hygiene he might expect in the boonies, and he had resigned himself to eating garbage unless in a high-traffic restaurant with above-market prices.

  As the sun drifted lower in an eggplant sky, he paid his tab and made for the temple, the temperature now moderate enough to brave the trek all the way to the holy spot on foot. Hopefully he’d spent sufficient time for the site to clear of laborers. Wood smoke drifted from nearby fields burning the remnants of crops, mingling with the ever-present pollution from ancient cars, the combination a constant irritant to his burning eyes and throat.

  The weight of the gun he’d confiscated at the professor’s house pressed against the small of his back, providing reassurance that in the event he was jumped, it would be the last thing his assailants ever did. He didn’t know what the statistics were on violent crime in rural India, but with the general impoverishment of the majority, he had to believe he was a target, and he spent the entire walk scanning around him, alert to any threats as he made his way to the temple.

  Chapter 37

  Bhiwani, Haryana, India

  Drake and Allie stopped at a clothing store to add some needed items to his empty backpack and then set off for the ashram, unsure what to expect. As they walked along, Drake felt Allie’s presence as a dull ache. Circumstances had turned out far differently than he’d hoped when he’d invited her to India. He’d had visions of lounging around with her on the balcony of a five-star hotel, their nights devoted to passionate lovemaking, their days spent exploring the exotic reaches of a mystical land. Reality had been a brick to the face, and he felt like they were growing apart with every step they took.

  The dome and spires of the ashram rose above the surrounding dwellings, reflecting the afternoon sun, the walls painted an orange hue not found in nature. As they neared the three-story arch that marked the entrance to the complex, they could make out long rows of dormitories ringing a massive structure whose elaborate dome seemed to glow like a beacon.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Allie whispered.

  “Amazing,” Drake agreed, although he suspected the irony was lost on her.

  They approached the gate, where four white-clad staff watched them with cautious smiles. Allie took the lead when they reached the checkpoint.

  “We’re here to see about spending some time at the ashram,” she said to the men. “My brother and I have traveled many miles to reach this blessed spot. We hope you have room.”

  They smiled at Drake and Allie, radiating benevolence, and pulled one side of the gate open. “Swami Baba Raja’s ashram is open to all who seek enlightenment. Come, let me show you to the admissions area,” one of them said with a small bow.

  They followed the man to a sky blue building where several other hopefuls stood in line while two women, also in head-to-toe white, processed them in. One of the arrivals appeared to be a local; the other pair, like Drake and Allie, were obviously foreigners, their sunburned pale complexions identifying them as tourists.

  “Please, have a seat,” the man said, indicating a carved bench along one of the walls. “It shouldn’t take too long,” he assured them, and then retreated through the entryway, leaving them to their thoughts.

  The pair in front of them whispered to each other in German, confirming their origin, and then one of the female staff waved them forward, and Drake and Allie rose and took their place in the queue area. The other woman finished with the local and pointed to a changing area, and then beamed a greeting at them and motioned for them to approach.

  “Hello,” she said. “Welcome to the Ashram of Eternal Bliss. You wish to spend time with us?”

  “Yes,” Allie replied. “My brother and I want to study with the swami. It’s been a dream of ours since we first saw his videos.”

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p; “Excellent,” the woman said, and slid two forms and a pair of ballpoint pens to them. “Please fill these out, and I will fetch you some clothes. Everyone wears white here, fashioned from the same cloth, to symbolize the purity of enlightenment and our essential equality.”

  Allie completed the short questionnaires for them both, noting that the price per day of their stay was that of a moderately priced hotel. The woman returned and handed them each a neatly folded bundle. “I guessed your sizes. My apologies if I got them wrong. We only have small, medium, or large. Your brother’s are large; yours, small. I trust they will do.” She studied Allie for a long beat. “How many days would you like to pay for?”

  “Oh, at least one week,” Allie said, trying to sound excited.

  “Very good. Payment is in advance, cash only. We accept rupees, dollars, and euro – the conversion rates are posted there,” she said, indicating a board behind her. “What currency?”

  “Dollars.”

  “Perfect. The changing areas are there. Kindly place all your possessions into the sacks provided with your clothes, and I will sign your valuables in. There are no phones or computers allowed, but don’t worry about your belongings – the vault is quite secure, so there is no need to worry about anything.”

  They emerged from the changing rooms minutes later clad in identical outfits. Drake whispered to Allie as they returned to the counter with their bags in tow, “You look amazing.”

  Allie blushed and whispered back, “You’re not looking very brotherly.”

  “Maybe I can be your stepbrother?”

  “Cool your jets,” she warned.

  “Yes, sis.”

  Allie paid the woman, who issued a receipt and handed it to Allie along with two documents. “Here are your lists of daily chores,” the woman explained. “You will be expected to start them tomorrow. Today, you are encouraged to meditate and prepare for the dusk assembly, with His Holiness in attendance. Then the evening meal and contemplation and devotion time until bed. Welcome to the ashram. You will find that it is an amazing place.” The woman called out into the back, “Dev! Please come show our new guests to their rooms and give them an orientation.”

  A young man with narrow hips and shoulders padded from the rear of the building on bare feet and bowed to them. He smiled with a faraway look in his eyes, and his gaze settled briefly on Drake before flitting to Allie.

  “I am Dev. Blessed is Swami Baba Raja. Come, I will show you to your quarters. Where are you from?” he asked.

  “California,” Allie said.

  “Really? Your accent…” Dev began, confusion in his eyes.

  “Oh, I was raised in Texas.”

  “Ah, of course. This way, please.”

  He led them to the dorms and indicated one wing for Allie, another for Drake. “That’s the women’s area, and this is for men,” he explained, giving them their room numbers. “Over here is the dining area, and there, the assembly hall.”

  “What’s that?” Drake asked, pointing to a large building with gold-painted arches.

  “Oh, that is the swami’s residence. It’s his home, as well as the living quarters of his most senior staff.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Allie commented, taking in the carved reliefs over the arches, hundreds of depictions drawn from Hindu mythology carved into the three-story façade.

  “Yes, we are very fortunate to be in its presence on a daily basis. So close to the great one, and reminded of such by his artisans’ handiwork.”

  “He lives there full time?”

  “He travels occasionally, but nowadays, not often. The faithful come to him when they feel the draw, and he finds it more important to be here for them than to spread his word. He has many who do so for him, so it isn’t necessary.”

  “Have you ever seen the interior? It must be incredible.”

  “Once, when I was on special cleaning detail. And yes, it is breathtaking.” Dev paused. “At the assembly tonight, you will be presented to the swami along with the rest of the new devotees. It is a great honor, but he is generous with his blessings. You are truly in luck.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Allie gushed. “I can hardly wait.”

  “Have you been at the ashram a long time, Dev?” Drake asked as they ambled along a path toward the assembly hall.

  “Four years. It feels like yesterday. You will find that time ceases to matter once you’ve embraced the swami’s energy. It is eternal, and to bask in it is like bathing in the cool waters of a blessed lake.”

  Half an hour later, Dev had finished the tour and told them to listen for the gong that announced the assembly was going to begin. He encouraged them to rest, which was easier said than done, they found, their rooms equipped only with reluctant ceiling fans and no mosquito netting on the windows. When the gong rang, it was with considerable relief that they made it to the open-air assembly space, where one of the staff showed them to the area reserved for new attendees. They joined the twenty or so of the day’s arrivals, all seated cross-legged on the stone floor, and waited as the group chanted the swami’s mantra. The effect of thousands of voices repeating the same syllable over and over was mesmerizing, even to nonbelievers like Drake and Allie.

  Drumming interrupted the collective trance state, and a procession arrived from the swami’s residence. The holy man floated among his faithful, smiling at the group and waving his hand in blessing as he approached the raised dais.

  Drake leaned into Allie and whispered over the drums and chanting voices, “Oh, brother.”

  She shushed him as the swami took a seat on an elaborate golden throne. After several minutes of descriptions of the swami’s benevolent deeds, one of his minions gave the equivalent of a sermon, with plentiful reminders of cosmic energy, atemporal unified fields, and the duty of the enlightened to serve the less fortunate – and of course, to spread the gospel according to Swami Baba Raja. When the oratory was over, the new devotees were led to the swami, who materialized holy ash and sent a shower of it over their heads.

  When Drake and Allie were presented to him, his eyes fixed upon Allie, and Drake saw something all too familiar in his countenance. Drake had to fight back the instinct that rose in him at the man’s attention to her, but the swami barely noticed him.

  “Welcome, young ones. It warms my heart to meet you,” the swami said, in good English.

  “As it does ours,” Allie and Drake said together, repeating the line they had been told to use when the swami spoke his ritual line of greeting.

  “I’m glad you finally made it,” the swami said, taking Allie’s hand in his while deviating from the script, which they’d been told would consist of his greeting, their response, and then their dismissal so the swami could bless the next in line. “I have been waiting for you to arrive.”

  Neither of them was sure how to respond, but the swami seemed unfazed. “What is your name, child?” he asked her.

  “Allie.”

  “Like music. Allie. Truly blessed,” he said, and winked. Allie smiled in return, and then the swami seemed to remember himself. He waved them away and tore his eyes from Allie only after she’d returned to her spot on the floor.

  “Tell me that wasn’t weird,” Drake whispered to her. “Guy’s an old lech.”

  “I’ll say,” she muttered under her breath, while keeping her smile. “We are indeed blessed,” she said more audibly. “He is magnificent – like staring directly into the sun. We are unworthy to be in his presence.”

  Drake took the hint and remained silent, his stomach twisting. The swami looked like he had been ready to tear Allie’s clothes off; there was no mistaking the path of enlightenment he wanted to show her. Drake forced the resentment away – of course Allie would catch the eye of the old pervert. She had a quality, a bearing, that was indeed special, and it was foolish to expect nobody besides himself to notice.

  An hour later the chanting subsided, and the swami’s entourage accompanied hi
m back to his residence. The musicians began packing up and the group stood. The Germans were chatting in broken English with three young women from Portugal when a thin man with oil slicked hair approached and spoke quietly to one of them. Her face lit up with excitement and she nodded, and then the man smiled and came over to where Drake and Allie were looking around, trying to figure out what to do next.

  “The swami has chosen you to participate in a special blessing this evening, young one,” he said to Allie. Drake caught the look in her eyes and excused himself with a nod.

  “Really?” she exclaimed once Drake had left.

  “Yes, it is a special honor few are selected to attend. It will begin following the evening meal. Will you be coming?”

  “Of course!”

  “Good. Present yourself at the residence promptly at nine tonight.”

  The little man hurried away toward another of the comely new arrivals, and Allie joined Drake at the edge of the assembly hall. She told him about the invitation in a hushed voice, and he listened with a stony expression. When she was done, he looked off toward the residence.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “It’s a chance to get a look inside.”

  “The swami wants you to get a look at more than that, judging from his performance tonight.”

  “Don’t worry. I can handle myself.” She paused. “He’s tall for an Indian, isn’t he?”

  “Looks like he uses the same dye Spencer does.”

  “He’s not a youngster, that’s for sure.”

  “He’s a lecher. Probably rapey, too.”

  Allie shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s got a certain charisma in person, you have to admit. Like a rock star or something. My guess is he can have whatever he wants from his groupies.”

  “The guy’s a charlatan.”

  She looked around in alarm. “Keep your voice down, Drake. Remember why we’re here. If the idol’s made out of gold, it shouldn’t be hard to spot. If Divya’s correct and the dagger is a sword, I’d expect the idol to be almost three feet tall. This is the perfect opportunity to get into his residence and snoop around. Unless you’ve got a better idea, this is the break we need, and we’d be crazy not to take it.”