by Sonia Singh
I stepped into the red petticoat and secured it around my waist. The jewelry went on next. Retrieving the small makeup bag from my purse, I lined my eyes with heavy black liner. Might as well go all out.
Finally, I picked up the sari and stared blankly at yards and yards of chiffon.
I had no idea what to do.
Struggling to remember the one occasion I had watched my mom tie on a sari for a dinner party, I tucked one end of the material into the waist of the petticoat, then wrapped the remaining material around me like a sarong. There was supposed to be enough cloth to drape across my chest and cascade down my shoulder.
There wasn’t.
I untucked the blasted thing and tried wrapping it again. This was not going well.
Tahir poked his head around the door. “Can I see?”
“This is as close to my going ethnic as you’re gonna get,” I informed him.
“Then let’s take a closer look.” Cupping his chin, he walked around me in a circle.
“Well?”
“Definitely better than the fantasy.”
He then dropped to his knees in front of me and began arranging the folds of material around my waist.
“What are you doing?”
He pressed his lips to my navel and looked up. “Tying your sari.”
This had suddenly turned into my fantasy.
In what seemed like seconds, Tahir had secured the sari around my waist and at my shoulder, creating a perfect fall of red chiffon down my back. I surveyed my reflection in the mirror.
Indian Barbie had met her match.
Tahir came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed my neck. “You are stunning.”
I leaned my head back to give him greater access to my neck. “I know.”
His hand slid across my chest and began undoing the hooks of the blouse.
“What are you doing? After all the effort it took to tie it on, you want to take it off?”
His hand slid over my breast. “Well…yes.”
I closed my eyes. “Just checking.”
“Tahir Varun Sahni!”
My eyes flew open to see a massive heaving bosom with a woman attached. I recognized the swarthy features and squat figure from the picture.
Tahir’s mother.
My mouth went dry as the most formidable woman I’d ever seen moved menacingly toward me.
Tahir removed his hand and stepped back. “Ma! Your flight wasn’t due in until tomorrow!”
I was frozen.
I’d never been this terrified in my life. I went from hot to cold to hot again. My stomach lurched.
Nostrils flaring, eyes shooting sparks, she stood in front of me.
Well, her bosom was in front of me. Her body was actually a few steps back.
Didn’t matter.
This wasn’t a woman.
This was a dragon.
“Ma, this is Maya,” Tahir said.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything.
And puked all over her.
Chapter 47
SUPERMAN HAD X-ray vision.
I had projectile vomiting.
As soon as Tahir had ushered his stunned mother into the bathroom, I’d grabbed my bag and fled in my sari, feeling like an escapee from The Jungle Book.
Maybe I was demonstrating a shocking lack of manners, but I didn’t think Mrs. Sahni wanted me to stick around. What would I have said to her anyway? “So you’re Tahir’s mom? Aunt Dimple has said the nicest things about you. Oops, you missed a chunk of upchuck. So you saw your son fondling my breast? Wasn’t that funny? Ha. Ha.”
So I jetted.
By the time I hit the 73 South, I’d calmed down a bit.
How weird was it for Tahir’s mom to show up like that? How the hell did she get in?
Oh right. She huffed and puffed and blew…
That was mean. I shouldn’t think so negatively about the woman. I loved Tahir. He loved her. So it followed that I should—
Nostrils flaring.
Bosom heaving.
My palms suddenly became sweaty.
Seriously, I hadn’t seen anything that terrifying since The Ring.
Okay, I needed to concentrate on work—on anything besides Tahir’s mother. It was time to form some sort of game plan regarding Sanjay.
I’d cruise home, shower, then conduct a stakeout. Of course I didn’t know the first thing about “stakeouting.” I was a Law & Order fan, but it wasn’t like I’d studied each and every episode. Then again, I didn’t even know which location to stake out. I highly doubted Sanjay would return to his apartment. What did that leave? Radio Shack? Circuit City?
Or Sanjay’s girlfriend, Indira.
There had to be some way to find her. I knew she was a chemical engineer, but that was about it. Ram knew even less.
Speaking of Ram, if he tried to pull me into another meditation session, I’d have to blow him off. Sure, I’d been able to do that cool-white-light-aura-skin-thing stuff, but once again…
Pretty much a useless power.
I pulled into my street and stopped, staring in shock. Both sides were lined with cars. I coasted by the house. Our three-car driveway currently had four cars crammed onto it.
Were my parents having a party?
In the middle of a Sunday afternoon?
I was forced to execute a Y-turn and nearly banged into the bumper of a Rolls Royce with a license plate that read: INDIA 1. I knew that car. It belonged to my aunt Renu, the radiologist. She lived in San Jose. What was she doing here?
I finally found a parking spot a few streets down.
Fuming, I walked barefoot up the sidewalk. I’d left my precious Manolos back at Tahir’s.
As I approached the house I caught a whiff of incense. By the time I reached the front door I was bathed in a cloud of it.
That should have been my first clue.
In another odd development, stacks and stacks of shoes, bereft of feet, were piled up on the doorstep.
That should have been my second.
I opened the door and nearly tripped over the person sitting right in front of it. He was one of many seated bodies packed into the foyer.
They all looked up at me and stared.
Huh.
Stumbling through the sea of faces, I made it to the entrance of the living room and stopped.
Most of the Mehras had congregated in there. Ram was in the thick of things, presiding over a small fire in the center of the room. My parents were tossing what looked like herbs into the flames. Everyone was chanting. Including the Marshalls from next door.
“Om kali kali mahakali kalike.”
Aunt Dimple saw me and let out a shriek. Nadia, seated in the corner looking bored, turned my way and frowned.
Everyone stopped chanting.
Mrs. Marshall grabbed a handful of rose petals and threw them in my direction. Aunt Gayatri nudged her and mouthed the word “later.”
Ram threw out his arms. “Jai Ma Kali.”
“Jai Ma Kali.”
In a rippling motion that started from one end of the room, they all threw themselves forward and touched their foreheads to the ground.
The cat was out of the bag.
At least I was dressed for the part.
Fucking A.
Chapter 48
THE QUICKEST PATH to parental approval?
Be the living incarnation of a goddess on Earth.
It was that simple.
Who knew?
Ten o’clock and the Puja—a ritual in honor of the gods, or in this case, me—was still going strong. Worshippers still filled the house. I was still wearing my vomit-reeking sari, and Ram still presided over the ceremonial fire in the living room.
Speaking of Ram, I had managed to grab one end of his robe as he scooted past on his way to the bathroom. “So you spilled the beans.” He gave me a confused look. “Beans, you know, lentils?” Still confused. “Forget it. When did you tell my parents about me?”
“She is?” Successful Seema had recently made partner in her law firm. And now she was on the fast track to motherhood.
Ram continued. “I said to your mummy—who cares? So this Seema will be the mother of twins? Bah! Maya is the mother of all creation.” He pulled his robe from my grasp and rushed off.
I guess that explained it.
I turned my attention back to the Puja. I supposed it was going well. Any Puja where the house didn’t burn down was deemed a successful one.
I had also learned that the rectangular metal receptacle housing the fire was called a kund. It was not a pan for baking brownies as I had previously assumed.
My dad, whom I’d caught dozing off a couple of times, reached over and patted my shoulder. “Very good, Maya…very good.” He’d said the same thing to me when I’d learned how to ride a bike.
My mom, who was on my other side, kept shooting me smiles, when she wasn’t wrinkling her nose.
Well the goddess really needed a shower.
Across the room Mr. Marshall was giving me the thumbs-up sign.
Mrs. Marshall had continued to throw flower petals in my direction at inauspicious moments until Aunt Gayatri had finally taken them away from her. She now sat subdued.
I caught Tahir’s eye and he winked. My lips curved in an answering smile. Then I made the mistake of glancing left and making eye contact with his mother. One nostril flared.
Bile rose in my throat.
Tahir and his mother had arrived an hour or so ago. She was wearing fresh clothes and an expression that clearly indicated she was unimpressed by my goddess status. For Tahir’s sake, I attempted a weak smile in her direction.
The other nostril flared.
I quickly looked down.
I wondered if anyone had called the press? I hoped not. Even if a call were made, I doubted a reporter would show. They’d liken a Kali Puja in Newport Beach to a Santeria ritual in Placentia. Unless someone performed a human sacrifice, we would not make the front page. Personally, I wouldn’t mind a human sacrifice in my honor. I’d even handpick the victim.
Nadia.
She was still looking sulky in her corner. Undoubtedly, she’d tried to leave, but had been prevented by a Mehra. Her secret was safe with me…for now.
“Samir will be coming tomorrow,” my mom whispered.
I hadn’t seen my brother since Thanksgiving. “Oh…great.”
She smiled, brushed a strand of hair off my forehead, and turned back to the ceremony.
Ram muttered something in Sanskrit, and my mom picked up a metal bowl filled with clarified butter. Using a spoon, she began dribbling it over the flames.
The fire crackled, and everyone resumed chanting.
Aunt Dimple pulled out a pair of small cymbals and began banging them together.
Give me a break!
It was all I could do not to cover my ears and run for my life.
The house was clear.
It was after three in the morning, and I opened all the windows to get the smell of smoke and incense out of the house.
After the Puja ceremony ended, I’d had to sit still and let people come up and touch my feet.
Super creepy.
By the time Mom, Ram, and I climbed up the stairs, I was practically sleepwalking. My dad had sneaked off to bed hours ago.
I opened my bedroom door ready to crash—smelly sari and all—when the sight before me made me gasp.
My room was filled with flowers, gift-wrapped boxes, and tons of cards. I opened one envelope and pulled out three crisp hundred-dollar bills. “What is all this?”
“Baksheesh,” Ram said.
My mom explained. “It is customary for worshippers to bring gifts for the deity.”
I picked up a dainty blue bag with a familiar logo.
Tiffany & Co.
I could get used to this.
Chapter 49
I LOVED my worshippers.
If I had to pinpoint the exact moment they went from being freaks with foot fetishes to my darling devotees, it would have to be when that nice couple from Dana Point bought me a five-thousand-dollar Segway Human Transporter.
Wasn’t that sweet?
I was no longer the unemployed goddess. The perfect career had landed in my lap. Since our house had become a veritable revolving door for the deeply religious, I was totally raking it in. In fact, I was toying with the idea of buying stock in an incense company because of the amount we went through every day.
I discovered that the Puja ceremony I’d walked into on Sunday afternoon was special—to welcome the goddess. Normal Kali Pujas started at midnight and stretched until dawn, which was fine with me. I’m not a morning person.
Basically, for the first two hours Ram would preside over the ceremonial fire and lead the room in chanting.
I would sit on a cushion and try to look intensely spiritual, when in reality, I was thinking up ways to spend all the money people were donating.
Afterward, came the hard part. While Ram continued to stoke the sacred flames, I had to recline on a sofa and hold court while my worshippers approached, offering me a gift in one hand and using the other to touch my feet. Either my mom or one of my aunts would be on hand to take the gift.
Tough. But someone’s gotta do it.
It wasn’t all reclining on the sofa, drinking wine, and eating chocolate. I had to make sacrifices. I couldn’t watch any of my soaps because I slept until two, so I was forced to use TiVo. One of my worshippers had given me a lifetime membership.
I was also forced to wear saris on a regular basis. The black silk one I had on today was shot through with Swarovski crystals. And I had changed my ruby nose ring for a sparkling diamond—naturally I needed my jewelry to match. My mom had spread the word that I preferred silver—and possibly platinum—to gold.
Smoothing the black silk over my knees, I was mulling over the idea of registering at Nordstrom—to make gift giving easier—when Aunt Dimple patted my arm.
“Ah, there’s Pinky.”
Tahir and his mother were entering the room.
“Pinky?” The dragon’s name was Pinky?
Aunt Dimple arranged the cushions behind my back. “Pinky is a common pet name in India.”
Tahir approached the sofa. “Maya, I need to talk to you.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s about Sanjay.”
“Later, after everyone has had a chance to meet me.”
Tahir looked back to where the long line of worshippers snaked around the room and out the front door. “Can’t you take a break? I have some information.” His eyes flashed. “And we need to be alone.”
I’d barely had any time with Tahir since my house had become the Church of Maya. But I had a career now just as he had his. “I want to be with you, too. Why didn’t you come earlier?”
“I was at work until eight. I called, but you were with your hairdresser.”
I now had a hairstylist from José Eber come in every evening. It wouldn’t do for the goddess not to be well coiffed.
Elegant as usual, Aunt Gayatri, who had come over to switch places with Aunt Dimple, laid a hand on Tahir’s arm. “Maya needs to see to her devotees. Why don’t you try the halwa?”
Tahir gave me one last look, nodded at Aunt Gayatri, and walked away.
The aunts exchanged places, and it was back to business as usual.
Later, when Aunt Gayatri had gotten up to refresh my glass of wine, I scanned the room for Tahir. I didn’t see him, but at the dining table Dimple and Pinky were shoveling halwa into their mouths with fierce concentration. Then I spotted Tahir. He was outside on the deck talking to Nadia.
Hmm.
Aunt Gayatri returned with my drink, and the line of worshippers moved forward.
My aunt was accepting a gift certificate to M.A.C. on my behalf when Nadia sauntered in and perched on the corner of the sofa. He
r cheeks were flushed a dark crimson, and I was betting someone didn’t know how to hold her liquor.
Inexperienced lushes were so annoying.
“Well, well,” she said. “So Goddess Kali waits thousands and thousands of years to resurrect, and when she does, she chooses you?” She threw up her hands. “This is one fucked-up Universe we’re living in. The human race is doomed.”
“Nadia!” Aunt Gayatri admonished.
I smiled at my aunt. “I’ll handle this.” I swung my legs off the sofa, stood, and adjusted my silver belly chain.
Ram met my gaze and shook his head from side to side.
Was he telling me to show restraint?
As if.
Besides, it was about time I put on a show for my worshippers.
Pure shock and awe.
I closed my eyes and called the Goddess Within. I wanted a little wind, not too much, just enough to give everyone a shiver. The breeze blew through the room, causing a collective gasp.
Then I concentrated until all the lights in the house went off one by one.
The better to see my glowing white aura with.
As the halo of light began to emanate from my body, I could hear the soft cries of surprise. Satisfied that I had everyone’s full attention, I allowed the lights to come back on.
Everyone was waiting to see what I would do or say next. I opted for the latter.
I cleared my throat and took advantage of the opportunity. “Just to let you all know, Nadia,” I pointed for the benefit of the people who didn’t know her, “is not a doctor as she led us all to believe. She is in fact, a nurse. Linda Vista Hospital will verify that.”
All the Mehras in the room faced Nadia with identical stunned expressions.
Eyes welling with tears, Nadia lowered her head and fled from the house.
I resumed my position on the sofa, took a sip of my wine, and called out, “Next.”
Chapter 50
AS DAWN BROKE through a cotton candy sky, I thought about installing one of those digital counters like at McDonald’s. Only mine would say: over one million blessed.
The last worshipper had left, and I was heading up to bed when I saw the front door was still open. I went to close it and spotted Tahir sitting on the doorstep. “You’re still here?”
