Ashes for the Elephant God

by Vijaya Schartz

The sound of the Jeep on the gravel interrupted our conversation. A soaked Amit barged in, followed by an equally soaked short Indian man in western clothes, sporting glasses, a black moustache, and a cheery grin.

  Doctor Naveen Patel bowed as he introduced himself, asked for some light, and opened his leather case. Mukunda gave me a reassuring smile as he left the room with Amit. The doctor listened in the stethoscope, sleek black hair smelling of rain and coconut oil. Asking simple questions, he took my pulse, palpated my belly, ribs, arms and legs, then checked my eyes, reflexes and coordination. After a sigh, he concluded, "You are very lucky, Memsahib. I see no serious effect from the ordeal."

  Doctor Patel packed his instruments in the leather satchel then opened the door to the living room. Immediately, Mukunda entered, trailed by Amit.

  "She's doing fine," the doctor declared, answering their questioning stares. "After some food, plenty of fluid, and a good night's rest, she'll be fully recovered." He closed his satchel.

  "As a matter of fact, I am hungry." My stomach growled in confirmation.

  "My wives are still expecting us for a celebration dinner," Amit offered genially. "If the Memsahib feels up to it, of course."

  "I'd love to, Amit." I had forgotten the party for saving Amit's life, but the prospect of good food sounded wonderful.

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" Mukunda frowned.

  "Absolutely. Besides, there is even more to celebrate now."

  "Acha!" Amit beamed. "I'll give Doctor Patel a ride back, stop by my house, and pick you up in an hour."

  "All right." Mukunda's eyes still showed hesitation.

  After watching the two Indian men leave, I turned toward Mukunda. His neat cotton shirt, clean slacks and fresh shave made me realize how filthy I was. "I could use a bath."

  "I thought as much." Mukunda chuckled. "So I took the liberty of filling the tub with hot water. I figured a cold shower wouldn't do."

  "Are you always this thoughtful?"

  "You bring out the best in me." His dazzling smile made my insides melt. "Can you manage, or do you need some help?"

  I was tempted to ask for help. How wonderful it would feel to let him carry me in his arms, undress me slowly, feel his hands on my skin, rubbing every inch of my sore body. But it wouldn't be right. If destiny was at work here, it would take care of itself. "I think I can make it, but my clothes are a mess. Can I borrow something to wear? A pair of pants and a shirt maybe?" I sat up on the bed and dropped my dirty-socked feet on the floor rug.

  "I'll find you something." Mukunda left the room.

  *****

  I luxuriated in warm water, washing the grime and mud off my hair and face, soaking stiff muscles and bruises, surrendering to the delicious experience. I hadn't had a hot bath in many months, since I left Paris... It seemed like eons ago.

  But I probably wouldn't like the city anymore. I belonged here, in this land that moved me, the land of my past. When I felt clean, I rinsed off with a cool shower, toweled dry, then entered the bedroom, wearing Mukunda's white terry robe.

  To my surprise, instead of men's clothes, I found laid on the bed a magnificent length of bright blue silk, embroidered with a wide band of gold thread. I had never worn a sari, at least not in this lifetime, but I knew how to drape it from watching other ashramites dressing for festivals and weddings.

  I brought the silky material to my face to check the effect up close in the mirror above the rattan desk. My favorite blue... It matched the sapphire of my eyes. Smiling to my reflection, I donned the matching choli. It fit perfectly over my breasts, not too low-cut, but not too modest either. Ignoring the lack of underwear, since traditional Indian women didn't wear any, I wrapped the six meters of heavy silk around my hips counterclockwise several times. At the front of the last layer, I tucked wide pleats at the waist, leaving about two meters to drape over my right shoulder.

  Although hazy without my glasses, the effect in the mirror from a distance was striking. So, this was what Mukunda saw when he looked at me. He seemed happy around me. Was I essential to the happiness for which I would have surrendered my life? Did he say he loved me earlier in the Jeep, or did I imagine it? Should I be so lucky that God had sent me back to make him happy? If that were the case, by all I held sacred, I would gladly follow where God led me to fulfill our destiny.

  When I opened the door, Mukunda turned around and gaped, a glass in one hand, a bottle in the other. "Good God, you look just like her."

  "Her?" I hoped he didn't mean Kora.

  "Lakshmi, the woman of my dreams." Mukunda smiled at my relief and poured a glass. "Blue was her favorite color. When I saw this sari in Mumbai months ago, I had to buy it. It reminded me so much of her..." He stared at me, searching my face. "But I understand now that it was you I had been waiting for all along." He offered me the glass. "Do you feel up to celebrating, or would you rather not drink? It's only toddy."

  I flushed with pleasure at the confirmation of Mukunda's interest in me. To hell with caution... As I took the glass, however, an unexpected pang of guilt about Kora tugged at me, and I wanted to give her credit for sounding the alarm. "Who told you I was swallowed up by the mud?"

  "No one."

  My surprise must have shown.

  "We didn't even know there had been a slide." Mukunda poured himself some palm wine and replaced the bottle in the antiquated icebox. "Kora thought you had gone to relieve yourself on the other side of the hill." He came toward me. "After the truck left and you didn't come back, I worried. Amit and I went looking for you."

  "Really?" All my scruples about loving Mukunda suddenly vanished. Kora had left me to die... I didn't owe her anything. "I'm not sure how to thank you..."

  I stopped talking as Mukunda had come impossibly near, lips hovering so close to mine I thought I might faint. His breath faintly smelled of sweet toddy. I closed my eyes as his lips brushed mine ever so slightly.

  The return of the Jeep broke the magical moment. Mukunda smiled. He looked happy, and I reminded myself I had vowed to do whatever it took to keep him that way.

  When Amit pushed the door open, a wide smile split his dark face. "Most auspiciously, the rain has stopped!" Amit had exchanged his muddy western wear for immaculate white silk pajamas.

  "You look as dashing as the sweet Lord Krishna himself," I said with a bow.

  "And you, Memsahib, are looking as lovely as the goddess Lakshmi, or even Parvati, Shiva's beloved wife." Amit bowed in return.

  I warmed at the mention of my old namesake, the goddess Lakshmi, the perfect loving wife of Vishnu. "But the fierce Kali was also Shiva's wife, wasn't she?"

  "Yes, Memsahib, a very independent and destructive wife who was demanding human sacrifices, one to be feared and respected." As if just remembering, Amit handed me a white canvas bag I immediately recognized. "It was left in the truck, I thought you might need it."

  "Thanks, Amit. Although Mukunda found me this wonderful sari, I could use a pair of sandals," and my contact lenses I added mentally, returning to the bedroom to drop them in.

  I blinked into the mirror, happy to see clearly again. My eyes fell on a small perfume bottle I hadn't noticed before. I opened the stopper and waved it under my nose. Musk. A little risky, but tonight was special. I dabbed the fragrant oil behind my ears, rubbed some on both wrists and between my breasts, then smiled at my reflection.

  In the mirror, I could see behind me the grimacing statuette of Kali on the nightstand. I thought about Kora. How sad to be feared and respected rather than loved. Could it have started a wave of selfishness and cruelty? I picked up the statuette. It felt warm still, and I remembered its reassuring presence in my earthly prison.

  I wanted to understand Kora. Somehow, I believed our destinies were linked. I wanted her to find her own happiness, but how much would it take to make Kora look at her life from a different perspective and change her karma?

  "I'm ready!" I set the statuette back on the nightstand, picked up the sandals, and re-entered th
e living room where the two men smiled at me. "But before we go, I want to thank you both for saving my life." I bowed formally, still holding the sandals for fear of insulting my host if I laid them on the floor. "Thank you. I was resigned to die, but I'm glad your courage and persistence got me out in time."

  "You are most welcome, Memsahib." Amit glowed from the compliment. "But I think the gods are watching over you."

  Mukunda only smiled mysteriously as he returned the bow, and the memory of his kiss, no matter how light and brief, still burned on my lips.

  Since Amit offered to drive, Mukunda and I squeezed into the passenger seat. The touch of his hand on my shoulder, as well as the rustle of the silk sari against his thigh awakened a long buried desire so intense it heated my skin at his contact. My unbound love for Mukunda threatened to spill over the whole universe. I breathed his scent, feeling the pulse of his desire course through our twin bodies. His luminous smile told me he enjoyed the ride as much as I did.

  I heard the music and smelled the spicy vegetables even before I could see the cluster of brightly lit houses on the side of the road. I wondered at the colorful crowd assembled there. Besides Amit's parents, wives, and children, entire families of brothers with their wives and in‑laws, as well as the whole neighborhood attended the festivities in their best attire. Children ran wild, laughing and playing.

  Friends and family piled garlands of white ginger around my neck, and I gladly shared them with Amit and Mukunda. The smile on my face grew tight from too much namasteing. Where had these people found the resources and the time to cook and organize a feast of that size, complete with entertainment, on such short notice? Of course, they had plenty of women to do the work. Still, it was quite an achievement.

  Several small houses enclosing a common courtyard had been decorated with flower garlands for the occasion and lit with hundreds of small flames. Everywhere, candles shone bright, as well as oil lamps, or floating fruit halves hollowed and filled with coconut oil, the fruit's own fiber twisted into a wick.

  Amit led me to a seat of honor under the veranda, in case of rain, I supposed. There, I sat on the sisal rushes covering the concrete, between Amit and Mukunda. Instantly, the other guests sat down along the walls surrounding the courtyard, leaving the central space clear for servers and entertainers.

  I turned to Mukunda. "Where is Kora? Isn't she coming?"

  "No." He had an embarrassed smile, like a child caught doing something wrong. "I wanted to have some time with you, so I suggested she must be tired and asked her to go to bed early."

  "And she accepted?"

  Mukunda blushed a little. "Surprising, isn't it?" He was obviously withholding something.

  Since this was not the time or the place for explanations, I decided to wait. Besides, I already knew why Kora hadn't insisted on coming. The murderous bitch believed me dead and assumed there wouldn't be a party at all.

  While we listened to raga singers and sitar players, saried women walked among the guests, offering cardamom chai, mango juice, lemonade, and sugar cane juice. Then the meal started with individual bowls of Basmati rice cooked with fruit, ground almonds, and green peas.

  Delighting in the music, the food and, of course, the company, I stole a look at Mukunda. His eyes met mine and he smiled. He started reaching for my hand but stopped half way. Men and women never touched in public. With chapati flat bread, we scooped a lentil stew called Turka dal, cooked with garlic, ginger, tomatoes, and spices. Then came delicious vegetables simmered in ghee, the ever-present clarified butter of Indian feasts. The samosas and pakoras, spicy vegetable fritters, were a smashing success.

  I particularly enjoyed the mango chutney, a hot and spicy fruit preserve used as a pickle. The raita, a mild yogurt with cucumber and onion, came just in time to cool the fire of the spices. A myriad of sugary desserts followed, including deep-fried dry cheese balls, Ras Malai cheesecake, and mango kulfi, sweet ice cream with mangoes.

  All the guests related to one another with good-natured enthusiasm, cheering each other and laughing at Hindi jokes I couldn't understand. Women smiled at me from a distance, wagging their heads in approval. Children fell asleep in their mother's lap. Noticing the obvious rampant polygamy, as well as the absence of meat or alcohol, I concluded Amit's family embraced the Hindu faith.

  During a break in the entertainment, we were offered bowls of lemon water to wash our hands. Late into the night, singers, musicians, and belly dancers performed, as we clapped our hands to the accelerating rhythm of the tabla drums.

  "Fabienne?" Mukunda's eyes sparkled like blue gems among the flames of a thousand candles. "Would you like to stay until dawn, or would you rather leave while we have a chance? You must be tired." In the background, the vina players prepared for the next performance, tuning the buzzing brass strings on the long bamboo tube of the instrument.

  "As much as I enjoy this," I said with a smile, "I think I've had enough for one day." I should have felt exhausted, but curiously, I didn't. I had slept an hour or two before the doctor came, and after months of regular meditation, my energy level had soared to unsuspected heights. All I wanted now was to be alone with Mukunda.

  "I agree." He smiled. "Besides, it might start raining soon." Mukunda rose to talk to Amit who conversed nearby with two of his brothers.

  What would happen next? With the ashram closed, Mukunda and I had to spend the night under his roof, alone. How wonderfully unavoidable! Closing my eyes, I could still feel his lips brushing mine. I loved this wonderful man more than life itself, and I wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with me. If God had placed me in this situation, who was I to object?

  *****

  The noisy engine of the Jeep and the strong wind flapping the silk of my sari prevented all conversation during the short drive to Mukunda's house. My gaze wandered to the long-fingered hands resting on the wheel. The golden hair on the forearms bristled in the faint light of the dashboard, and a bright smile spread on Mukunda's face every time he looked at me. All my past romantic experiences paled before the consuming fire of this powerful attraction.

  The air smelled of rich earth and rain. I felt like the fertile soil soaking up the flood after the drought, ready to be tilled and impregnated, to give birth to new crops. Mukunda looked at me again, serious this time, as if apprehensive. Kora. Was he pondering about being disloyal? I hoped he would favor me.

  I couldn't tell him Kora had left me to die. She would deny it anyway. Besides, I needed a bargaining chip to help her change. I would keep the attempt on my life secret, as well as the naja incident. Mukunda must make his own decision. Also, I didn’t want to force his hand by making the first move. I would only follow where God led me. Right now, I rather looked forward to my destiny.

  When the Mahindra Jeep veered off the main road to climb the lane to Mukunda’s house, my whole body shivered with anticipation. Parking the vehicle under the frond-covered carport, Mukunda tightened the hand brake and leaned back in the seat. Turning to me, he smiled like a winner about to collect a prize.

  I couldn't help grinning back. What now?

  Mukunda stepped out of the Jeep and helped me down. We left our sandals outside, then he pushed open the door, holding it for me to enter. As I brushed past him in the doorway, I sensed from him an undercurrent of uneasiness. Shyness? Nervousness? No. Something more ominous loomed in the shadows. While I suspected the smile and attraction to be genuine, I knew very little about the details of Mukunda's life. An insidious fear snaked its way through my mind.

  When he opened the refrigerator and extracted the bottle of toddy, I guessed he needed a drink before giving me some bad news.

  "Something wrong?" The air had suddenly become thick with tension.

  Mukunda poured two glasses and handed me one before answering. "Have a seat." His thoughtful eyes pleaded for forgiveness. "I want to be perfectly frank with you, Fabienne."

  "What is it?" I sat on the rattan couch, tight with foreboding.

&nb
sp; Mukunda pulled up a low rattan chair and sat on the other side of the coffee table. His intense gaze held me. "I think I loved you since that Sunday morning, when I laid eyes on you in the courtyard of the ashram." He smiled, looked at the clear palm wine in his glass, then gazed upon me again. "Although I hadn't recognized you yet, I wanted you."

  The news warmed my heart but didn't ease the anxiety. "I felt the same way. I couldn't help loving you despite my spiritual commitment." Heat suffused my face. "Except that I did recognize you at once... But that's not what you wanted to tell me, is it?"

  "No." Mukunda hesitated. He stared at the glass, stirring the wine slowly then looked up again. "That same day... While riding Shankar... Kora told me..."

  "What?"

  Mukunda bit his lips, as if refusing to let the words out yet. "She's pregnant." He released a deep sigh and looked down.

  "Kora, pregnant?" My euphoria crumbled as I felt hope slipping away. So this was the dharma he had referred to the night we talked, during the saptah. The inescapable duty that tied him to Kora... Suddenly I felt a stab of pain as I realized what it meant. "You are sleeping together?"

  "No. Yes, once, but not really... It's rather complicated." Mukunda's eyes shifted with guilt, then he rose and walked toward the window.

  "I see," I said, hurt and disconcerted. But I couldn't start to comprehend. Although I expected as much, the knowledge that Mukunda and Kora had slept together disturbed me more than I thought possible.

  "I'm so sorry, Fabienne." Mukunda's eyes filled with regret. The muscles of his jaw tightened. "Regardless of my feelings for you, I have no choice but to marry her as soon as schedule and weather permit."

  I sprang up, almost knocking down the coffee table, and started pacing the room, somewhat restrained by the silk sari. "Kora always gets what she wants, doesn't she? Do you know what she does with men? She takes them, uses them, then she throws them away, like she did with that poor Chad."

  "The elephant caretaker?" Pained surprise wrinkled Mukunda's forehead.