Ashes for the Elephant God

by Vijaya Schartz

  "This will mean a reliable energy source." I hardly heard Mukunda's words, so absorbed was I in contemplation. "We’ll experience fewer power failures and will benefit from high voltage lines for the creation of local industries. The dam will allow the all-year-round irrigation of the fields and rice paddies. Four crops of rice and two crops of vegetables each year... No more water shortages during the dry season, which means better hygiene and fewer diseases. The deadly monsoon floods will soon become a thing of the past." Mukunda paused and looked at the assembled ashramites. As his eyes met mine, I detected the hint of a smile.

  "Not enough locals understand the positive aspect of this work. A few environmental groups have also tried to undermine the project, but a dam provides much cleaner energy than the equivalent nuclear plant. We need to garner the support of the local population, and I hope we can count on yours." Mukunda bowed slightly. "I thank you in advance for your cooperation." He gave the microphone back to Baba.

  "I know some of you worry about desecrating the holy river," Baba conceded. "According to the Vedic scriptures, the Narmada sprung from the body of Lord Shiva himself, the giver of life. But it’s an arrogant man who thinks he can sully the sanctity of God. The dam will only fulfill the river's destiny to bring life and fertility where drought and famine prevailed."

  Baba grinned under the gold-rimmed sunglasses. "Mukunda will be our honored guest for lunch, then he’ll ride Shankar to pay his respects to Bagawan Durgananda's samadhi shrine in the village. I ask you to respect his privacy and not pester him with questions or bothersome conversations."

  "Sadgurunath Maharaj Ki Jay!" All present intoned with a bow.

  Baba and his guest stood up and turned around. Mukunda looked back, giving me a last smile, then followed Baba through the open door into the private apartments.

  Kora shot me a murderous glance. She wore the treasured safari jacket of her mystery lover. I seethed at the idea that she would have Mukunda for herself during the elephant ride, since she had managed to become Shankar's official hostess, while Chad remained its caretaker.

  Something else bothered me. I remembered her mention of the real man, not from the ashram, the man she saw in secret. Could it be Mukunda? The jacket certainly matched his style. I couldn't stand the idea of Kora with this wonderful, honest man. It seemed sacrilegious. I knew I shouldn't care. I should feel privileged, looking forward to becoming a nun, ever happy in God’s holy peace. Instead, I felt loss and injustice. That didn't make me happy at all.

  Later, in the garden, I came upon Mukunda with a group of trustees on their way to the refectory. His intense stare told me he wanted to talk. I felt elated, ready to comply, but his eyes caught my "Silence" button, and he simply smiled, bowing ever so slightly. Regret flashed in his eyes. I felt crushed at the missed opportunity, then castigated myself for thinking about him that way. I would, however, overcome the temptation and earn the peaceful sanctity I craved.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dharma, sacred duty

  During the silent meal in the refectory, Mukunda couldn't help thinking about the deep blue eyes of the brunette who had stared at him with such fervor during the presentation. Who was she? He longed to hear the sound of her voice, but the "silence" button on her shirt had prevented all conversation. Such presence, such raw fire in the sapphire eyes, such radiance thrilled Mukunda. He longed to know her.

  She seemed deeply involved in her spiritual quest, though. The bindi on her forehead proclaimed, "Not interested in mundane pursuits." Could he have mistaken devout intensity for personal interest? One such as she didn't come to an ashram to find a man. Her plain white clothes and lack of artifice didn't spell "husband‑chaser" but rather "on the path to sainthood."

  Nevertheless, Mukunda dwelled on the young woman. How pure and wholesome she seemed, so different from the likes of Kora, with whom Mukunda could never find happiness. He could only relate to a lover in total communion, trust, deep understanding, in a merging of souls, minds, and bodies.

  The mystery girl reminded him of someone dear, someone close, but he couldn't remember whom. Dazzled by this simple devotee more than he'd ever been by any woman before, Mukunda wished he knew her name. She felt as familiar as the sweet memory of someone deeply loved, but from where or when, he had no idea.

  After lunch, Mukunda and the two trustees serving as his guides directed their steps through the blooming gardens, toward Shankar's shed. Soon, the stench warned him of the elephant's proximity. Mukunda cringed at the sight of Kora coming to meet his party. She wore his safari jacket over long khaki culottes and smiled beseechingly. Hands joined high in front of her forehead, she bowed in traditional greeting.

  "Namaste," Kora said sweetly. "As Shankar's hostess, I'm delighted to welcome you on his behalf." Turning to the two trustees, she bowed again. "Thank you, Gentlemen, I'll take care of our guest from here and will return him to the courtyard in time for Darshan."

  The trustees returned the bow and smiled, obviously relieved at not having to ride the stinking elephant. Watching them leave, Mukunda felt trapped. Why did he agree to this meaningless parade through the village? Because Baba offered, of course. Mukunda liked the old guru. Refusing such an honor might have hurt the holy man's feelings.

  The sight of Kora, so sexy, pretty, and feminine, only angered Mukunda. Why would she wear his jacket? It looked indecently tight around her generous bosom.

  "I didn't know Shankar had a hostess," Mukunda blurted, hiding his embarrassment at seeing her again.

  "They created the position for me," Kora explained, all smile. "The irascible Shankar becomes sweet as a lamb when I'm around. Apparently, I have the magic touch. It makes the ride safer for the guests. Besides, I love the big beast."

  Mukunda remained guarded. "Congratulations."

  "Chad," Kora called to the muscular caretaker, "I'll be riding with our guest in the howdah, today."

  As Kora flipped back the unruly strands of her thick blond mane with manicured fingers, strong perfume brought to Mukunda memories he'd rather forget.

  Chad held the ladder to allow Kora and Mukunda to climb the garishly painted pachyderm. The caretaker kept silent, avoiding Kora's eyes. Mukunda settled in the back seat of the six-passenger howdah, while Kora sat across from him, facing backward. With a smirk, Chad stepped on the elephant's elevated front foot to straddle the thick neck, bare feet tucked behind the flapping ears. Mukunda wondered why the young man acted so aloof, borderline rude, almost as if resentful at not getting Kora's attention. Like a spurned suitor?

  "At least, we don't have to chant the bloody Guru Gita." Kora laughed. "I'm getting sick and tired of it." She smiled sweetly.

  Mukunda strained to remain civil. The elephant was taller than he had first imagined, and the smell, combined with the swaying of the ride, threatened to unsettle his lunch. Down below, the ashramites made way for the cumbersome beast. Looking around, Mukunda hoped to see the blue-eyed brunette again, but to no avail.

  "I heard about your accident," Mukunda offered. "I'm sorry. It must have been hard to endure the cast in this heat."

  "Harder than you can imagine. Thank God, it's over." Kora's face grew serious as they crossed the gate. "I'm glad for the opportunity to talk to you in private. I wanted to visit you with the news, but this is much better."

  "What news?" Mukunda felt a strange dread.

  "You remember our date, two months back?" Kora smiled coyly.

  "Of course. How could I forget?" The memory still stung, and Mukunda felt ashamed all over again.

  "Well... Something came out of it." Kora looked suddenly shy.

  "Something? What are you talking about?" Mukunda could smell a rat. This wasn't good news.

  Kora fixed her clear eyes on Mukunda. For a second he thought she might cry, but she simply said, "I'm pregnant."

  Mukunda swayed and grabbed the howdah’s railing for support. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally asked, "Are you sure?"

  "Certain." Kora sat s
traight, staring at him. "I did three pregnancy tests and they all read positive."

  A slight jerk of the elephant, along with the tightening of Chad's muscular back, told Mukunda that the young caretaker had heard and didn't like the news either.

  "How do you know it's mine?" As doubt crept into Mukunda's mind, his voice rose. "We did it only once, and without my consent. How dare you face me with such a claim?”

  "It has to be your child," Kora pleaded, tears flooding her large green eyes. "You're the only possible father. I had only one other relationship in my whole life, and that was way before."

  Mukunda looked at Chad who had turned around, red-faced. For a second, Mukunda thought Chad might be Kora's former lover, but he dismissed the idea. Kora hadn't been in India that long. The timid young man was only shocked by Kora's revelation. As to confirm Mukunda's thoughts, Chad broke eye contact to face the road ahead.

  "We could go to the hospital for a paternity test, if you want to make sure," Kora offered shyly.

  "No way... Too risky." Mukunda knew too much about India to allow such a risk for the child, Kora, or even himself. Indian hospitals weren't safe for healthy people. He couldn't send her to the States either, it would take weeks to get a visa, and he didn't really want his family to get involved.

  "Thank you," Kora uttered with a sheepish smile. "I hoped you'd see it that way. I'm really sorry about this whole mess."

  "I apologize for yelling at you like that." Mukunda felt lost. "I didn't plan on this... I need to think... What are the options? What do you want to do?"

  "There is always abortion..." Kora sobbed pitifully, dabbing at tears with a silk handkerchief.

  "Of course It's out of the question, unless that’s what you want. I would never ask that." Mukunda turned the problem in his head but saw no acceptable solution.

  "This is bloody India," Kora went on. "Unwed mothers are considered lower than pond-scum, and there's only scorn for a child born out of wedlock. The only honorable option I see is marriage." As Mukunda didn't reply, Kora went on. "I understand you're looking for a bride. I could think of worse prospects. I'm sure your family will welcome the match."

  "Leave my family out of this!"

  "Do you have a better idea?"

  Mukunda remained silent, stunned. What went wrong? How had it come to this? The most important decision of his life, snatched from him by fate, misfortune. The Hindus called it karma. What had he done in a previous life to deserve this?

  As he still didn't respond, Kora continued. "In a fortnight, the Brahmin priests will come to the ashram to perform the May festival ceremonies. Just before the monsoon is the most auspicious time to hold a wedding."

  The luminous face of the girl that morning in the courtyard came unbidden to Mukunda's mind. Why was she so important to him? Suddenly, he didn't want to lose her. He had to remain available. Then realization dawned on him: despite a few physical differences, he recognized Lakshmi, the woman of his dreams, his soul mate. Could he give her up to make amends for one night's mistake?

  "Mukunda? Are you all right? You're so pale." Kora reached for his hand and smiled. "What do you think about a wedding next month?"

  "Jesus!" Mukunda took away his hand. Her contact was too much. "I don't know." He couldn't bring himself to say yes. "Next month isn't a good time for me, we must get the dam ready before the rains. We'll be working around the clock until the monsoon breaks." Although truthful, the excuse sounded lame.

  "We can't wait too long," Kora said in alarm. "Or it'll start to show."

  "We still have time." His soothing words sounded flat. His dreams about wife and children had revolved around love. How could he give up the most important part of his dream?

  Then Mukunda thought of the unborn child, his child. His heart filled with love for the new life quickening in Kora's belly and he made up his mind. "After the heaviest rains, when everything's in place, we'll get married." Oblivious to the familiar scenery gliding past Shankar's flanks, Mukunda still hoped that a miracle would rescue him from spending his life with the wrong woman. He had no idea what that miracle might entail, though.

  After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Kora spoke in a confident tone. "All right. But we should have a formal engagement as soon as possible, with an official announcement, so when the baby comes early it doesn't spread doubts about paternity and seems more honorable."

  "As you wish." Mukunda slumped, feeling cheated, used, betrayed. What else could he do? It was his fault after all. He never drank. Why had he gotten drunk that night?

  Kora smiled and declared brightly, "So, when do I move in?"

  Mukunda straightened, retrieving his composure. "To avoid gossip, you should remain in the ashram until the wedding,"

  "Fair enough." Reaching into the deep pocket of her long culottes, Kora brought out a lighter and a pack of Marlboros.

  "You shouldn't smoke while you're pregnant," Mukunda ventured, as kindly as he could manage under the circumstances.

  Kora made a wry face, then she replaced the cigarettes in her pocket. Curling her lips in a sweet smile, she whispered, "Whatever it takes, Honey. Anything for our child."

  Riveting his gaze on Chad's stiff back, Mukunda leaned against the back seat, his spirits sinking into quicksand. His family would welcome Kora, eager to see the staunch bachelor married and in the family way. Everyone would rejoice, except him. But dharma, the sacred duty of the Hindus, needed to be fulfilled. Mukunda would not shirk his responsibilities, no matter the cost. Still, he hoped for the impossible.

  *****

  After taking Mukunda back to the courtyard in a gracious show of solicitude, Kora skipped the traditional Darshan to return to Shankar’s shed. The stratagem had worked. She knew it would. Mukunda was a man of honor and principles. He wanted to make things right.

  After the wedding, at the first sign of monthly blood, Kora would fake a miscarriage. By then she would be Mukunda's rightful wife and would have enslaved him body and soul. Although legal in India, divorce remained a disgrace worse than prostitution for a woman, and no gentleman would wish it on his wife. Mukunda would be hers to love or torment as long as she wished.

  Emboldened by her triumph, Kora needed to share it with someone. Even if she couldn't tell Chad the whole truth of the matter, she wanted to gloat.

  "How'd you know it's not mine? Two months ago, we were still lovers!" Chad's angry scowl betrayed a murderous mood as he washed the colorful designs off the elephant's hide, using a hose and a soft brush at the end of a long handle.

  "Contrary to you, Chad, I use my brain and I know how to count." She sat on a wooden toolbox serving as a bench. Ignoring the non-smoking policy, she retrieved her pack of Marlboros and lit a cigarette.

  Still brushing up and down the elephant's flanks, Chad turned toward Kora. "What if I told him I was sleeping with you around the same time? How'd you like that?"

  "I'd deny it, saying it's wishful thinking on your part," Kora retorted, wondering where Chad had found the nerve to oppose her. "And I'd spread rumors that would make you feel one inch tall."

  "Like what?"

  "That you once experimented with gay friends, for instance, or that you started drinking again... I can smell booze on your breath." She pulled a long drag, enjoying the acrid smoke burning her windpipe. It counteracted the zoo smell.

  Chad shrugged. "You like hurting people, don't you?" He dipped the brush in a pail of soapy water, then scrubbed Shankar's hide with angry strokes. "This guy doesn't even like you. Did you see how he hesitated? Why didn't you ask me?" He turned to face her. "I'd marry you tomorrow, you know that. I'd love you and the child for the rest of my life, and I'd let you have your way in everything."

  Chad's imploring eyes didn't move Kora. "Marry you?" She leaned her back against the wall and crossed her legs, watching Shankar's trunk reaching for a handful of hay on the concrete slab.

  "Why not?" Brush in hand, Chad walked toward Kora but stopped a few feet away. "I promise I'd make you
forget him. We had good times together, didn't we? It could work."

  Kora's laugh resounded through the corrugated shed. "Poor Chad." She laughed again and flicked her ashes to the floor.

  It ignited a few straws and Chad rushed to stomp them out. "Watch out, that's dangerous!" He snatched her cigarette, threw it on the concrete then stomped it as well.

  Kora only smiled at his childish ways. "You don't get it, do you? Why would I marry a spineless loser like you, when I can have one of the biggest fortunes in California?"

  "I thought you said you had plenty of money," Chad argued. "Why do you want more?"

  "My money won’t last forever. I must secure the future of my child. Besides, I like a challenge, and Mukunda is worthy of me. I couldn't say the same about you."

  "Bitch!" Chad returned to the pail, threw the contents on the burnt straw for good measure, then took the hose and rinsed the soap off the elephant's side. "Think about it for a while, maybe you'll change your mind," he said over his shoulder. After spraying down the pachyderm, Chad turned off the hose.

  "Don't hold your breath." Kora rose. "Are you finished with Shankar?"

  Chad nodded.

  "Do you know Shankar was my half‑brother in a past life?"

  "If what Baba says is true, he wasn't a very good person, your half-brother." Chad retrieved the brush and pail and hung them on the hooks. "Think about my offer. You'll come to regret it if you refuse."

  "Was that a bloody threat?" Kora laughed in shock and disbelief.

  "I love you too much to hurt you, Kora. You know that." Chad's eyes held reproach.

  "Yeah... I should've known." Kora sighed. "For a minute I thought you were becoming interesting. Leave us, now, will you?"

  Shaking his head, Chad walked away in the direction of the small bedroom adjacent to the shed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Earthly love, divine love