Ashes for the Elephant God

by Vijaya Schartz

  "Hi, Honey. I hope I'm invited." Kora's cutting voice told me she had heard part of our conversation and didn't like the idea. Her smile remained charming if cold.

  Compared to her impeccable look, I was a miserable mess, with muddy water stains on my wet, wrinkled clothes and grit in my hair. But, dammit, I wouldn't let her make me feel bad for it. And I wouldn't lower myself to nagging remarks either.

  Mukunda looked embarrassed at Kora's intervention but didn't say anything. As he kept smiling at me warmly, I bowed to him, smiled politely to Kora, then left the couple.

  Outside, villagers were piling up their belongings on the trucks partly loaded with trunks, boxes and suitcases. Several women sat on these improvised benches, their black umbrellas presently shading them from the intermittent sun. Soon, both vehicles overflowed with people packed on top of the goods. They had few animals, this time, but more things. Although they weren't happy to leave, they surrendered to fate, like the others had. Because of the swollen river, the Daimlers would take a longer route to Ganeshpur, via a concrete bridge.

  To my surprise, Kora rode in the last truck with us, in the cab, of course, leaving Amit and Mukunda on the premises. Dark cumulus clouds gathered, obscuring the sun. Riding an open Jeep through bad weather wasn't her thing, I supposed.

  The next stop would be the last hamlet. As the truck plugged along muddy fields and occasional copses of trees toward a sloping hillside, my mind returned to Mukunda. I couldn't wait until the day was over to ride back in the Jeep and spend some time in his company. I hadn't realized until now how much I had missed him. Who was I kidding? I almost needed him to feel whole. The idea of Mukunda spending the rest of his life with Kora made me ill. It seemed so wrong, such a waste of decency and virtue.

  The truck stopped at the bottom of a hill harboring a few wrecked wooden shacks. Everyone had remained silent during the ride, probably tired, or reflecting on the events of the day. As I slid off the tail of the truck, the softness of the ground surprised me. It trembled under my steps with the consistency of jelly rather than dirt. I noticed the mushy imprint of the tires. There wasn't one dry spot in the whole area, neither up the slope where shacks clung to the mud of the hilly side.

  On the flat area by the side of the dirt road, a black length of vinyl stretched between two trees served as shelter from sun and rain for a few families. Several villagers lay on the wet ground, shivering despite the humid heat. A sickly child regarded us sadly, all hope gone from the soft brown eyes. To the side, a swarm of flies and vermin had claimed the carcass of a big animal lying stiff in the mud. Something moved in the dark recess between two shacks: a huge rat. I sensed more of them around, watching, waiting.

  After the men explained our mission, a discussion in Hindi followed. I caught a few words, but more than the words, the expressions on the faces told me much about the gravity of the situation.

  "There is sickness," Swamiji translated. "The water is polluted. With the rats and all the infection around, it could be cholera. Only those vaccinated can touch the sick. Understood? We'll drop them off at a Red Cross tent hospital on our way back."

  The westerners nodded. A few Indians among us wagged their heads in agreement and started gathering the few objects salvaged from the storm. Immune to the disease by virtue of vaccination, I joined the other foreigners to carry the sick in lengths of cloth stretched between bamboo poles. We lined them up on the truck bed.

  As I wiped my forehead before fetching the next feverish man, a young child tugged at the leg of my shorts. I smiled. The boy might have been five and didn't say anything, not that I would have understood, but his insistent pull in a particular direction and the gravity of his little face told me of some emergency. As the others returned to the makeshift shelter to get the rest of the sick, I followed the boy toward the remains of a shack up the hill, above a row of sparse trees. Turning around to get my bearings, I saw Kora in the truck, observing me from the window of the passenger seat. How she seemed to hate me...

  The rain had washed the dirt from under the shack. I hesitated before stepping onto the few rotten planks sticking out, unsupported. In a corner of the dilapidated structure, on a wet woven rug, a young woman lay peacefully as if soundly asleep, except that her lips didn't twitch at the fly nagging the corner of her mouth. At her breast, held by a protective arm, a baby slept, the tiny chest rising and falling at regular intervals.

  "Your mother?" I couldn't remember how to say mother in Hindi.

  The child seemed to understand. He wagged his head in grave affirmation and sat beside the dead woman, patting her unresponsive cheek gently. I wondered why none of the men had claimed her. Maybe her husband was among the sick. Maybe she wasn't married and the village shunned her.

  The woman's forehead felt cool to the touch. No pulse. No breath. There wasn't much I could do. We had not anticipated corpses. It seemed incongruous to carry her on the truck with the living, but we might have to do it anyway. These people honored their dead with proper cremation. The young mother deserved that much.

  Picking up the baby who fussed a bit in protest, I grabbed the little boy's hand and descended toward the truck.

  "There's a dead woman in the wrecked shack up there," I told Swamiji, pointing.

  Immediately, he sent two men to bring her down.

  I passed the baby to an older woman who reached for it, then lifted the older child into the truck. While others finished rounding up the remaining goats, I decided to explore the rest of the destroyed habitations, looking for other helpless victims. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Once again, I could feel Kora's gaze following me as I climbed the slippery hillside.

  *****

  From her privileged passenger seat, Kora stared at the upper hillside, her undivided attention focused on the shrine above the wide gully. The farmers had mentioned Kali as their protector, and the very name summoned dark thoughts of vengeance. Fabienne had to go. She understood too much, saw too much, she was a threat to Kora’s safety, just like Chad. Besides, Mukunda looked at the French girl with too much interest. Kora could not take any chances.

  O fierce Goddess, bloodthirsty Kali, remember our pact, sealed in blood long ago. Remember the lives I sacrificed to you then, and those I destroyed, even in this lifetime. My stepfather's... Chad's... You cannot fail me now...

  A rumble of thunder echoed through the valley like a response. Kora smiled in recognition.

  O vengeful goddess, strike the mere woman who bested you this afternoon in the river. Your lightning and thunder didn't defeat her then. She even saved Amit, the pesky little gnat. Fabienne made a fool of Kali The Black. See her wandering through the trees? She's your enemy as well as mine, alone, tired, and vulnerable. Take her life now, as a trophy to your greatness. If you crush her body and swallow her soul, I'll become your slave and do your work, so long as you grant me the favors and the immunity I seek. Feared be thy name, O Mighty Kali, harbinger of death! Strike this puny mortal to feast on her bloody heart. And don't fail me this time!

  *****

  Responding to a small cry, possibly that of a child, I headed for an isolated shack perched on the other side of a small ravine. I jumped back when a rat skittered between my feet. Reaching the tiny disjointed shelter, I realized to my surprise that it was a garishly painted shrine.

  I found no child inside. Shiny green flies buzzed on the bloody remains of an animal, lying on the stone floor in a pool of dried blood. A sacrificed goat, perhaps an offering to end the cholera epidemic... I pinched my nose against the stench and ducked as a crow flew out over my head. Adorning the worn shelf, among ash droppings from incense sticks, a small wooden statue, its once black and red paint worn and chipped by time, unmistakably represented the vengeful goddess Kali. I shuddered at the memory of my brush with the snake at a similar shrine in the ashram’s gardens.

  I felt rather than heard a rumble of thunder. The planks around me suddenly grated and groaned, while the stone slab shifted under my feet. As I clut
ched the doorjamb for balance, I caught a glimpse of Kora in the truck down below, staring in my direction. Then my glasses fell and the whole structure pitched, throwing me back inside as the dismantled shrine rolled into a thick dark wave of... Mud!

  "Help! Someone help me!"

  A thunderclap covered my scream. Kora had seen me... She would call for help, wouldn't she?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kali's revenge

  Kora watched with jubilation. From the top of the hill, a dirt overhang broke loose and slid toward the shrine Fabienne had just entered. The tiny shack rocked under the push of tons of slush, then fell, smashed by the thick flow. The structure broke up as its planks rolled like almond slices in fudge, then disappeared, swallowed by a wave of mud.

  When thunder rumbled again, Kora smiled with pure elation, then exulted. "Blessed be Thy name, O vengeful Kali," she murmured, her grateful homage lost in the drone of the truck’s engine.

  The mudslide on the upper half of the hill had gathered into the ravine. Blending with the rumbling thunder, it had gone unnoticed by those down below finishing to load the truck. The scenery looked pretty much like before, except that overhang and shrine had vanished, and mud now filled the gully, burying the lower trunks of a thin line of trees. Fleeting thoughts of Fabienne under all that mud made Kora wince. How horrible it must be to suffocate like that! But she composed herself. She couldn't afford to feel sorry. Tigers weren’t supposed to mourn their victims.

  Mukunda's Mahindra Jeep swerved and skidded on the slippery ground to stop beside the truck, distracting Kora from her repressed guilt. She called her fiancé with a playful wave of the hand.

  Mukunda looked around and inside the truck, then climbed on the passenger side step. "Where's Fabienne?"

  How she hated him for sounding so eager. He did like the French pest after all! Hiding her disappointment, Kora smiled sweetly. "I just saw her hiking up to the other side of the hill."

  Mukunda looked up the hill. "What for?"

  His obvious interest in Fabienne disgusted Kora, but she laughed lightly. "She probably wanted some privacy to relieve herself. Leave the woman alone."

  "Of course." The baffled expression on Mukunda's face was almost comical. "Sorry, I can be a little dense sometimes."

  As Mukunda's tan arm rested on the window's edge, Kora's manicured hand reached for it, calling for his full attention. "Will you pick me up tonight for the party at Amit's? I'd love to meet his wives and kids."

  Mukunda looked embarrassed. "I'm not sure it's such a good idea, Kora." He hesitated. "It's going to be an all night affair and you had a long day already. A woman in your condition should get her rest. Besides, you don't want to tarnish your reputation before the wedding. We agreed on that point, remember?"

  Kora couldn't tell whether Mukunda humored her, really cared about their non-existent child, or plainly tried to keep her away from the celebration of Fabienne's little stunt. So much for being transparent... Good thing the French nuisance had probably suffocated by now. Kali be thanked for Fabienne's unexplained disappearance, or fatal accident if the body was ever found. It would definitely spoil the party.

  Having nothing to fear from Fabienne anymore, Kora indulged her fiancé with a charming smile. "You're right, Honey. I'm a little tired. Although I was careful not to work too hard, moral support can be trying. For the sake of our child, I'll go straight to bed."

  When Mukunda looked relieved, Kora hated him for it. But he would soon come to his senses and love her like she deserved. Or else...

  After checking the truck a second time, Mukunda gave the pudgy driver a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Go ahead, Ramjee, I'll wait for Fabienne and give her a ride."

  "Acha," the driver concluded, smiling. The big man sat at the wheel, then slammed the door before engaging the heavy gear.

  As the overloaded truck rolled away, Kora waved and blew Mukunda a kiss. He looked so handsome in his sleeveless safari outfit. He waved back, left with Amit by the Mahindra Jeep. Kora settled in her seat with a contented smile.

  *****

  Mukunda watched the last truck leave with a sigh of relief. He even answered Kora's wave, so happy was he to see his task accomplished. At least, if or when the causeway broke, no one would die. Some more obscure feelings also contributed to his lightheartedness. He rejoiced at the prospect of spending time in Fabienne's company.

  But where was she? Did it have to take so long? A pink glow at the edge of the clouds indicated a hidden sunset, and the evening smelled of more rain. It would be dark soon. Should he climb the hill to check on her, or would she get angry if he caught her in an embarrassing position?

  Mukunda cupped his mouth with both hands, facing the hill. "Fabienne, where are you?" His voice sounded loud and clear in the deserted village, but only silence answered the call.

  "Memsahib!" Amit rejoined timidly in a higher pitch.

  "Fabienne! Can you hear me? Are you okay up there?" Still receiving no answer, Mukunda reached into the Jeep for a flashlight and hooked it on his belt. "We're coming for you!" Motioning Amit to follow, he started up the steep incline.

  Mukunda's sandaled foot slipped, dislodging a few rocks, muddying the bottom of his beige pants. "God, I hope nothing happened to her!"

  "Memsahib is a fierce woman, Sahib, quite able to be taking care of herself." Amit's convincing tone made Mukunda smile.

  "I hope so... Damn!" Mukunda stopped as a huge rat barred his way. When the creature didn't move fast enough, Mukunda kicked it to the side, sending it squeaking and skittering. "I hate rats."

  "I'm seeing that, Sahib." Amit laughed nervously.

  Sloshing in soft mud, Mukunda stepped over dead branches and planks, then finally reached the top of the hill and stopped to catch his breath. The gentle slope on the other side was even and almost bare of vegetation. As far as the eye could see in the bleak sunset, there was no sign of life and no Fabienne. Mukunda's stomach twisted with apprehension.

  He looked for footsteps in the soft ground, remembering the thick, deep-notched soles of Fabienne's climbing boots, but the other side of the hill was virginally void of footprints. "Let's backtrack and see if we find a trail."

  "Acha!" Amit's head wagged in agreement.

  Turning on the flashlight, Mukunda headed back downhill, slowly sweeping the ground in wide arcs, looking for any clue as to what direction Fabienne could have taken. Several rats bolted at his approach, coming out of hiding at dusk. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

  Amit followed quietly "Here! This is looking like Memsahib's footprint."

  Mukunda focused the flashlight beam. "You're right. And other than ours, it's the only other track up here."

  The steps angled to the side. Mukunda followed them for a short distance, to the edge of a thick river of fresh mud. The last footstep was partly covered by three feet of new clay. A sweep of the flashlight revealed a fresh blanket of mud filling half the ravine, hundreds of tons, dozens of truckloads.

  "Sweet Jesus! A mudslide!" Mukunda's insides clenched. "Fabienne!" He looked around with the flashlight, trying to find a shape, a knob, an unusual bump that would indicate a body in the smooth continuity of the muddy flow, but nothing stood up from the even surface. The flow had partly buried a line of small trees on its way down.

  "I see something shiny," Amit said, pointing at a small object on the surface.

  Mukunda sloshed his way through the mud to retrieve the object.

  "Careful, Sahib, this mud is not being stable."

  "I know." Mukunda picked up the half-buried item and shivered as he recognized it. "God help us! Fabienne's glasses."

  "Are Bapre!" Amit's helpless oath echoed Mukunda's.

  "Fabienne!" Mukunda's call was swallowed by heavy silence.

  His eyes searched for a sign, a trace, a clue, but finding none, he looked at Amit. "Do you think she could still be alive under all this?" Looking down, Mukunda stepped carefully on the new mud, aware that he could be walking on top of he
r. Lighting his way, he gauged the expanse of fresh fill, hoping for the impossible.

  "Vishnu only knows, Sahib." The fatality in Amit's voice prevented any hope.

  "Well, I want to know." Mukunda couldn't control his mounting rage. His voice rose, strong in the calm of dusk. "I want to goddamn well know why in hell I can't have the woman I really want. Why each time I get close to her, something shatters my dreams and my life. And why she has to suffer for it. She didn't deserve this." Mukunda threw down the broken glasses.

  "It's Karma, Sahib."

  "Well, I'm sick and tired of Karma." Mukunda kicked the nearest tree in anger. It felt good to hurt something, even if it was a tree.

  Picking up a fallen branch, he held it like a baseball bat and started beating the tree as hard as he could, roaring with fury, again and again, until his physical pain became as strong as the pain inside, until he spent his rage, until he finally stopped and sat in the mud, took his head in his hands and let himself cry, under Amit's compassionate gaze.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rescue

  God, I hate cramped spaces. I was buried alive, in total blackness. Trapped in a small black hole smelling of humus and decomposition, I struggled to move. Something wet and slimy dripped on my face. If only I could see... God knew what other creatures were stuck with me in the dark. My shoulders hurt from the fall, but I freed my hands from the imbroglio of broken debris. My feet remained stuck, however. After a few attempts to pry them loose, I stopped trying, wondering how much air I had left, thinking it best to save it, just in case the rescue took some time.

  Using both hands, I felt my way around the tiny prison. As far as I could tell, I was wedged between a wide plank, probably the altar shelf, and a mix of branches and smaller boards. Trees must have stopped the fall. I lay on my back, roughly facing up judging by the mud dripping down the side of my face.