Ashes for the Elephant God

by Vijaya Schartz

  "I know. But whatever we did in our previous lives cannot be undone, Kora. Now, we have to stop the cycle of violence." I softened my voice some more. "If we do not deal with it now, if we don't change the way we think, feel, and act toward each other, our next life will carry on the same nightmare. I only want to help."

  "Yeah, I heard that before." The corners of Kora's mouth curled down in disdain. "They all wanted to help... Or so they said. The truth is, they wanted something else. Nothing is free in this world." Tears welled in Kora's eyes, but from hurt or rage, I couldn't tell. "Love and compassion are like a mirage in the desert, an impossible dream some people pursue stubbornly, while others exploit their naivety."

  "Who in heaven are you talking about?" I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.

  Kora swallowed her tears. "There are sheep and there are tigers," she announced proudly. "I will not be a sheep, and tigers have to kill to survive. It's a fact of life."

  "A little simplistic, don't you think?" I pointed at Shankar's massive body. "There are also elephants who eat only plants but do not fear tigers."

  "Elephants can kill too, you know." Kora narrowed her eyes, emphasizing the threat.

  "I'm well aware of that." While looking for the chink in Kora's armor, I mustn't lose sight of the real danger she represented. She wouldn't attack me openly. She would wait for an opportunity when she could walk away unscathed. "Who tried to help you before?"

  "My stepfather for one." Kora stood to the side, hands behind her back, head angled to the left in defiance. "First he made me his sex slave, then he ditched me to marry another girl my own age."

  "What happened?" I kept my voice level to encourage her to talk.

  "He died... A car accident." Kora's chilling smile told me she was withholding something vital.

  "Oh! I'm sorry to hear that." I tried to sound unassuming. "What kind of accident?"

  "What difference does it make? He's dead now, that's what counts, isn't it?" The touch of hysteria in her tone made me hesitate.

  "I see... And what are you doing in India?"

  "It's a good place for me right now." Kora smoothed her silk dress fastidiously.

  "You mean a good place to hide? From what? From the Australian authorities maybe?" The realization horrified me, but the accusation hit its mark.

  "I never said that!" Kora snapped, livid.

  "Not in so many words." I turned away to hide my shock. "Who else, Kora?"

  "Are you sure you want to know? Too much knowledge can be hazardous to your health." The sweet tone emphasized the threat.

  "I'll take my chances. Go ahead, Kora, Tell me!"

  "Chad." Kora smiled dreamily, as if remembering good times. "He also said he wanted to help me, but when I decided to marry Mukunda, he started to drink again and became unpredictable..."

  "And?" My scalp prickled with foreboding.

  "He threatened to babble and spoil my wedding. A lot of good it did him." Kora stared at me, weighing each word. "No one threatens me in vain..."

  "So," I said slowly, barely daring to breathe, "You took care of him too?"

  A smug smile distorted Kora's face. "The little twit didn't suspect anything when I brought him the bottle of scotch that night." She laughed. "He thought we were making up. The booze was drugged. After he passed out, I took the keys, led Shankar away, then soaked the place with gasoline and dropped a match. Chad never realized what happened." Kora looked proud of herself.

  I controlled the wave of nausea that came upon me. "How many others did you kill, Kora?" Where would the madness stop, I wondered.

  "In this life? That's it, so far." Kora smiled dangerously. "You escaped me three times already, and Mukunda better watch his steps."

  "Three times? I only remember the cobra and the mud slide, and they had a lot to do with chance."

  Kora smirked. "You really believe in coincidence? You disappoint me, Fabienne. You also forgot the palm tree that fell in the river, sinking your lifeline."

  "But you were in the truck!"

  "So?" Kora held my stare.

  "I don't believe you can command lightning, or a snake, or a mud slide for that matter."

  "Believe what you will, Fabienne." Kora's chilling smile made me reconsider.

  "But how?" I asked in frustration, refusing to believe in Kora's supernatural powers.

  "I had help from Kali. We made a pact a long time ago, you see, and she still grants my wishes. Nothing you can prove, of course."

  "Why are you so sure Kali is on your side, Kora?" As she stared at me in wonder, I pressed on. "I'm still alive, aren't I? And the black goddess herself saved my life."

  "That's a lie." Kora trembled with rage.

  I fumbled in my canvas bag and pulled out the black statuette with ten arms. "Are we talking about this Kali?"

  Kora stepped back. "You! of all people! You worship Kali?"

  "Kali is only one of the many facets of God," I explained, walking toward her. "A grim and vengeful aspect, to be sure, but still part of the one and only creator. Kali slaughters demons, her destruction of evil also brings rebirth." I handed Kora the statuette. "Here, you can have it. It's the effigy from the cholera shrine in the fated village, the Kali who saved my life yesterday."

  "You lie." Kora's eyes stared wildly at the small statue she now held. "Kali, help me!" Brandishing the statuette toward the elephant, Kora yelled, "Kill, Shankar! Kill!"

  The pachyderm bellowed in acknowledgement, rearing and lifting his trunk in a rattle of chains. His head almost touched the high pyramidal roof of the square tent.

  I resisted the urge to turn and run. Blood pulsed through my veins. The smell of my fear, mixed with the stench of the beast, prompted memories of smoke and burning jungle from a faraway past. Despite my growing panic, I managed to control the flood of conflicting emotions. I did not budge. Centering myself, I tried to exude love and compassion in a desperate plea to the elephant. “Calm down, Shankar. We need love and respect, not violence. It's your happiness too. Don't you want to be reunited with Kora in your next life, as a man?"

  The large brown eyes under long lashes stared wildly in my vicinity, as if looking at my aura. I hoped Shankar could see it and discern my good intentions. As if comprehending, the elephant snorted and lowered his front feet to the ground, rather gently for an animal that size. The trunk between the gleaming tusks reached for my face, and I held very still, letting Shankar sniff me. Satisfied, the pachyderm turned toward the heap of straw and plucked a mouthful. Only then did I relax and remember to breathe.

  "Shankar, kill!" Kora's shrill yell didn't seem to affect the pachyderm, who kept grazing, ignoring her insanity. She turned to me, fury in her eyes. "What did you do to him?"

  "Nothing," I said, unsure whether or not I was telling the truth. "Shankar understands I don't mean you or him any harm."

  "So, you're not going to have me thrown in jail?" Kora's face flooded with bewilderment.

  "Why should I? I'm not the law." My heartbeat slowed a little. "You are safe in the sanctuary of these sacred grounds. Besides, making you a martyr in your own mind will not help you change, will it?"

  "But, I don't understand..." Kora cradled the statuette of Kali for comfort, much as I had done in my earthly grave.

  From the temple, the last notes of the chant signaled the opening of the refectory for lunch.

  "I know this doesn't make sense to you right now, Kora, but I hope some day it will. Just think about it." Leaving Kora to her confusion, I turned around and left.

  *****

  That evening, when Mukunda picked me up for dinner, I didn't mention my conversation with Kora. Not that I didn't trust him, but I wanted to keep my promise. Not a word to anyone. I hadn't told Kora about my new relationship with Mukunda either, or the fact that Mukunda knew she wasn't pregnant. This was between the two of them. When all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the truth would emerge, setting all of us free, I hoped.

  Mukunda and I rode into the village an
d watched the sunset from the open porch of a small restaurant serving greasy, spicy food, to the rhythm of traditional ragas tickling from an old boom box. Sometime between a sip of chai and a handful of lentil dal, Mukunda stared at me, more serious than I had ever seen him.

  He took my hand. "Fabienne, I know we haven't really known each other that long."

  "Probably a few lifetimes." I smiled. "Although I don't remember them all."

  Encouraged by my reaction, he smiled back. "After giving me a few days to clean up the mess I made of my life, would you consider marrying me?"

  As much as I wanted to, I wasn't sure I was ready to give up ashram life for holy matrimony, yet. I gazed into his eyes. "I'll tell you what. Instead of rushing blindly into the unknown, why don't we take advice from someone we both respect, the wise man himself."

  "You mean Baba?" Mukunda looked surprised.

  "Why not? When you feel ready, we can go see him and ask him what he thinks. Will you accept his judgment?"

  As surprise faded, a timid smile touched Mukunda's lips, then widened into a huge grin. "It's a great idea, Fabienne. I love it. You've got a deal."

  "You mean you will accept Baba's verdict, no matter what he says?" I couldn't believe Mukunda surrendered so easily.

  "Without hesitation," Mukunda declared smugly.

  I wondered what made him so confident that Baba would approve. Although my translation work was almost completed, I had a few reservations myself. "You seem so sure... What if Baba has other plans for me, like another book or an orange robe? What if he doesn't think we are suitable?"

  Mukunda laughed softly. "I don't think so, Fabienne." He kissed the hand he still held and smiled. "In the meantime, how about spending a second sinful night in a real bed?"

  I felt myself flush with excitement. My skin tingled with anticipation. "Sounds wonderful," I said, smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Samsara, the wheel of life

  Princess Korana could smell the blood. Her nostrils flared to inhale the coppery scent that made her bare breasts heave and her heart quicken. The rich blood flowed in rivulets on the sacrificial stone, dripping to the marble floor, pooling in crimson puddles at the base of Kali's pedestal. Behind the Rajah's daughter, along the cave walls and around the white columns of the underground temple, Brahmin priests and worshippers chanted Kali's litany, while the drugged girl bleeding on the altar moaned between ragged breaths.

  Shankarananda, superb in his bloodlust, held aloft the small scimitar. The sacrificial virgin tensed in the metal cuffs. As Shankarananda plunged the curved blade into the victim's entrails, she screamed briefly, trembled for a few seconds, then fell back, eyelids fluttering before they stilled in a stony stare. Deliberately, the young priest severed the liver then smiled, while he offered it in bloody hands to the goddess Kali.

  Korana loved Shankarananda's arrogance, his splendid body, and the cruel corner of his mouth. But she had discovered that only blood could light a spark of lust in the young Brahmin's eyes. Seducing other men to soothe her sexual appetite didn’t fulfill Korana's expectations, but she kept trying. After a few nights of disappointment, she usually fed the unfit lovers to Kali's sacrificial stone, to buy a few moments of carnal lust with the only man she really wanted, her half brother, the magnificent Shankarananda.

  Now, as the ritual drew to an end, Korana rejoiced at the prospect of the depraved lust ahead. None too soon, worshippers and Brahmin priests filed out of the temple, leaving the princely lovers to their private worship.

  Shankarananda looked at Korana with the passion she remembered and cherished. "Come," he beckoned, smiling, wiping bloody fingers on the polished garnet stone hanging on his bare chest.

  Trembling with desire, Korana ascended the steps to the sacrificial stone where the victim still lay. Shankarananda feverishly unlocked the cuffs, and with a sweep of his powerful arm, sent the virgin's corpse crumpling to the side.

  "Now, my beautiful, you will quench my thirst." Delicately, Shankarananda laid Korana on the stone and closed the cuffs on her ankles and wrists. After slicing with the blade the thin veils covering her lower body, he anointed Korana's nakedness with the victim's viscous blood.

  Korana shuddered. They had done it before, consuming their passion on the altar stone, next to the discarded carcass. Tonight, however, the spark in Shankarananda's eyes burned brighter than ever, and Korana looked forward to the savage joining and delicious release that would certainly follow.

  As he rose over the altar stone, the young Brahmin smiled. With the bloody scimitar, he traced the perfect moons of Korana's breasts and the median line separating them, making Korana arch under the cold caress. Then, gripping her long black hair with a strong hand, Shankarananda drank from her mouth while raising the dripping crimson blade.

  Korana screamed through sealed lips, staring at the scimitar descending toward her chest. A deep rumbling shook the underground temple. The curved blade stopped in mid air as the monumental pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling of the artificial cave wavered.

  Shankarananda looked up. "Kali, help us!"

  The cry unleashed another rumble, stronger than the first. The ground moved. The scimitar clattered to the marble floor. Grainy mortar fell from above as the disjointed stones of the columns collapsed in sections. The altar rocked. Shankarananda grabbed the stone for balance, but his foot slipped in a puddle of blood, and he dropped on top of his naked sister.

  The black statue wearing a necklace of human skulls lurched, while Korana stared in horror. Yanking on her chains, the princess opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The grimacing Kali, eyes bulging, lips lewdly parted, nipples a bright red, loomed inevitably closer. One of Kali's many hands, that holding a sword, seemed to move forward. The stone blade impaled the doomed lovers through the heart, moments before the massive statue of Kali The Black crushed them in its collapse.

  *****

  Kora cried out and shook her head to blot out the unwelcome vision. It took her a few seconds to catch her breath and understand that she had wandered into the memories of her previous death. The experience had surprised her while daydreaming in Shankar's tent. The elephant chewed some hay, staring at her with bovine eyes.

  "What were you going to do, Shankar?" Kora wondered whether the pachyderm had witnessed, or maybe even brought forth the vision. "Did you try to kill me, back there? Or was it just one of your sadistic games?"

  Shankar blinked, lifted his trunk and brayed, but whether in assent or protest, Kora couldn't tell.

  "We loved each other once. What happened to that love?"

  Shankar's trunk came to rest on Kora's shoulder, in a comforting gesture.

  "So, you do remember something. Thanks, mate. I needed that." Kora smiled, patting the rough trunk.

  How had they incurred the wrath of Kali? Why had the black goddess unleashed her fury on her most fervent worshippers? Kora felt betrayed. Even Fabienne had escaped Kali's many deaths despite Kora's prayers. Something had gone very wrong. Miscalculation? Lack of planning? Wrong approach? It seemed as if the goddess favored Kora only half-heartedly, rescinding her gifts just as they were given. Why?

  From the canvas sack, Kora offered green sugarcane shoots to Shankar. The elephant moved his head up and down, his powerful tusks and wide ears gently fanning the air.

  "Easy, Shankar." Kora laughed. "This tent may not withstand such a demonstration of enthusiasm."

  A male voice outside interrupted her thoughts. "Kora, are you in there?"

  Kora froze, recognizing Mukunda's contralto. Although he could not compare with the magnificent Shankarananda, she would have to settle for him. It was a matter of survival. Composing a practiced beguiling smile, she opened the tent flap and blinked in the bright sun. Mukunda's outline, dappled in sunshine, stood facing her, unmoving.

  "Hi, Honey. Isn't this a wonderful morning?" Kora hoped her voice conveyed a confidence she did not feel at the moment.

  "We need to talk." Mukund
a's gruff manner filled Kora with apprehension.

  "Sure, Honey. What is it?" After hesitating, she added, "Would you like to have tea across the street?"

  "No. Let's go for a walk." Mukunda's voice sounded too controlled. Something was amiss.

  Hoping her fiancé only felt nervous about scheduling the wedding, Kora followed him quietly along the garden path. As soon as they had passed the last cottages, Mukunda turned to face Kora.

  "Sit," he ordered, motioning toward a white wooden bench. "I wouldn't want you to get tired, in your condition."

  Kora thought she heard a note of irony in his tone but dismissed the idea. Doubt could poison someone's mind and prevent success. Forcing herself to smile, she sat, then tapped the bench beside her. "Come sit by me. Although we can’t touch, I'd like to feel you close."

  Mukunda shook his head and remained standing at a distance. Ice gripped Kora's insides. She could see his face now, serious and reserved, thoughtful, with a hint of bitterness. The birds in the nearby trees had stopped chirping, as if sensing a coming storm.

  When Mukunda addressed her, however, his tone had mellowed. "A childhood friend of mine is coming to visit. I'd like you to see her."

  Kora relaxed a bit. "Of course, I'd be delighted to meet your American friend. Is she coming for the wedding?"

  "Not exactly." Mukunda's cold tone sent warning signals flashing into Kora's mind.

  Worrying about possible competition, she asked, "How intimate of a friend is she?"

  "Not that kind. Helen and her husband work for the Peace Corp. She's an obstetrician and I want her to look at you and run some tests..." Mukunda paused and gave Kora half a smile. "Just to make sure you're all right and the baby is healthy."

  Kora felt the blood drain from her face. "This is very awkward." She groped at threads of sanity, trying to construct a believable web of new lies. "I wouldn't want to be examined by a friend of yours. That would be too embarrassing."

  "Not at all," Mukunda insisted. "Helen is great, very kind and understanding. You'll love her. Her father and mine are golf buddies, so she's also a friend of the family." He smiled encouragingly. "I insist that you see her. As soon as this is done, we'll pick a date for the wedding."