The simple practice was a paradox. It made her so calm and peaceful, yet it linked yoga to the warrior’s arts in her mind. In the state of spacious stillness that pranayama gave her, she knew she would shoot farther and straighter. Sometimes as she breathed, her mind did not still, but was flooded with visions of battles where she moved swiftly in her heightened awareness and her enemies moved slowly, as if they were underwater.
It had been a long day, though, and when she began, she was tired and couldn’t summon any grand visions. She fought off sleep.
“Open your eyes slowly,” Mala said, rousing Dhara from a doze. “You have progressed well in breath control.” Dhara was startled. Didn’t Mala know she was half asleep? “It would not surprise me if you mastered one of the lesser powers,” the yogi continued. “To stop breathing and to slow your heartbeat at will, perhaps.”
“I would like to transport myself elsewhere,” Dhara said.
“Well, that’s simple.”
“Really?”
“Walk.”
“No! Like you did, yesterday. When you disappeared.”
The yogi’s face darkened. “You ask for too much, too early,” Mala said at last.
“So you did transport yourself.”
“Since I came here, I’ve become good at that.” Her lips curved slightly. “That, generating inner heat, and changing into an animal. The other powers I struggle with.”
“You change into an animal? Will I do that, too?”
“It took me three years.”
“I’ll work hard! But I don’t understand how it happens,” Dhara said. “Or how standing on my head or breathing exercises lead to flying, or speaking to animals, or any of the other powers.”
“You will understand only through long practice. By focusing the inner eye on one’s own self, down to the smallest nerve, the minutest vibrating particle, one sees what the universe is made of. What is within is no different from what is without. With this knowledge, one sees through all superimposed forms, words, objects, and ideas, into the minds of all sentient creatures. Thus seeing, one understands all their languages. Thus understanding, one may control their minds. Not only that, but one controls the subtle body, and may change form, or even become invisible. Through this control, one may also become small as an atom or great as the universe. One gains supremacy over all.”
Dhara’s heart was pounding. It was intoxicating. As great as the universe. She had been so preoccupied with her lessons, she hadn’t had much time to think of her dreams, imagining she would lead the Kolis to conquer the Sakyas. With these powers, she would not just rule the Sakyas. Worlds would lie at her feet.
“These powers are signs the yogi is on the right path,” Mala said, “but they can delude her on her quest. Resisting the temptation to misuse the powers is a greater struggle than overcoming all the obstacles to mastering the powers themselves.”
Dhara quickly lowered her eyes, hoping she looked humble. She must still her heart. She didn’t want Mala to see what she was thinking, that she would master all of them, and the dangers as well. That she would use them to lead her clan to conquest and empire. A pupil wasn’t supposed to have secrets from her guru, but now that Dhara knew Mala didn’t see everything, she felt she must keep this thought hidden.
“You don’t struggle with anything, Mala-ji,” Dhara said, breathless and eager to change the subject. “You do every pose like Parvati herself. Lord Shiva would fall in love with you, like he did with the blue-skinned goddess.”
“That’s not what I meant… but that is an interesting thought. The Great God Shiva coming to the cave to make love to me the way he does with his bright goddess. I might enjoy that very much.” She gave a harsh laugh. “I would have to send you outside in the cold so you wouldn’t be a bother to us.”
“If I knew how to travel through the ether, I wouldn’t be a bother at all. If you would teach me, in a wink I’d be gone.”
“And where would you go?”
“I could go visit—visit your guru, Asita!”
“I can’t go to him until he summons me. Perhaps Asita’s pupil, my friend Nalaka. But not yet.”
“I’ll transport myself to the village and visit Sakhi in her father’s house.”
“Even if you master the powers, if you don’t understand yoga’s ethics, they’re dangerous.”
Dhara was ready for this. “There are five universal ethical disciplines, the yamas. They are nonviolence, truthfulness, abstaining from stealing, sexual continence, and freeing oneself from envy or covetousness,” she said with confidence. “There are five principles of individual morality, the niyamas. They are purity, contentment, austerity, study of the Self, and dedication to Lord Shiva.” She recited everything she could think of that the yogi had said about each ethical commandment and each principle, and what various famous gurus had said about them, surprising herself with how much had stuck in her head.
“Very good,” Mala said quietly.
High praise. Dhara was humbled. She had no need for glory. It was these simple precepts that mattered.
“I—I know I can’t sit still for long,” she said with a catch in her throat, “and I fidget when you talk a lot. But I do listen. I will try harder, I will! I’ll—I’ll make you proud.” To lead an army somehow seemed less important than pleasing her guru.
At that moment, the blizzard beat against the thick black bearskin tied tight across the cave opening, as if it would burst in and seize them. Mala crawled over and unlaced one side, and in came Rani with a rush of cold air. The huge cat shook wet snow off herself, and the fire flickered and hissed.
“I see it’s too cold even with such a fine fur coat,” Mala said. “Tonight we’ll all curl up together.” They gathered up every ragged blanket and stiff skin in the cave to pile on top. Mala let Dhara have the side closest to the fire, and Rani settled on the yogi’s other side, but it was all a little unnecessary, as Mala could generate sufficient inner heat even while sleeping. She wrapped her arms around Dhara like a mother.
“Sleep, girl. Tomorrow we’ll practice increasing your body’s natural heat. You’ll need that, if you want to survive this winter,” she murmured.
Almost right away Mala fell asleep, but Dhara, wide awake, stared into the embers and shook, in spite of the fire, the yogi’s body heat, and the layers of covers. Puffs of wind stole past the bearskin and she closed her eyes against the smoke. Thoughts of Sakhi and the village drifted past. What was her friend doing? And the boys. What would the boys think about her powers? Would they one day accept her as a leader? Time enough for all that. What she most wanted was to be back in her father’s hall for just one night, in her own little room, curled up with Sakhi under warm covers, telling her how she would conquer the world with her yogi’s powers.
Dhara yawned. First, she’d have to do something about that prophesied prince.
She yawned again. Her eyelids drooped. Where was she? Oh, yes, the prophesied prince. Why hadn’t Atimaya tried to marry her off to him? He was a cousin. What was his name? Siddhartha? Did she want to be that princess? She would show him a thing or two.
A log snapped. Dhara curled herself more tightly, tucking her cold hands between her thighs to warm them. If only she could whisper her dreams to Sakhi until dawn. No one had known her better than her heart’s sister, no one had known Sakhi better than Dhara. Love for her friend burned fierce inside her.
Then all at once there was vivid lightning and the cave walls were gone.
The wind howled around her. Lightning seared her eyes. She squeezed them shut, and huge balls of yellow, red, and blue light ricocheted behind her lids. She tumbled and rocked through the storm. Then as suddenly as the howling wind surrounded her, it was gone. She was floating. It was very cold.
She opened her eyes. She was in the loft in Sakhi’s house, suspended a bit above the floor, with faint currents of air bl
owing her this way and that. Impossible. She stretched her toes to the ground and alighted as if she were a bird settling on its perch.
A weak fire burned in the brazier. Under piled blankets, two people were lying close together. She must be dreaming. She held out her arms, looked down at her feet. Almost transparent, she saw with a start. Yet she could feel how frigid it was.
The mound shifted a bit, and a head poked out. Tangled hair fell on either side of Sakhi’s shockingly gaunt face. The low light played tricks, shadowing her eyes so they looked like empty sockets in a skull.
“Is… is someone there?” Sakhi’s voice was weak and hoarse. “Where are you?”
“Sakhi,” Dhara said, horrified at her friend’s appearance. “Put wood on the fire. Now! Or you’ll die!”
The fire
A ghostly figure swayed in the currents of cold air.
Sakhi moaned in terror. “Who… who are you?” The false warmth evaporated. The cold seeped into her bones.
The figure became more solid. “Dhara?” It couldn’t be. It looked like Dhara’s ghost.
The figure’s mouth moved, but Sakhi couldn’t hear. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t real. When she opened them, there was nothing.
So. It could not be. As much as she longed to hug Dhara and touch her silky hair, her brown cheek, her friend was far away at the cave.
Then there she was again, floating, her mouth moving, but no sound coming out.
Could Dhara be dead, and this apparition be her ghost? No. Sakhi would know it in her heart. She tried to swallow. Her throat felt swollen.
Put wood on the fire! It was as if the figure had shouted inside Sakhi’s head. In Dhara’s voice.
Maybe she was really here. But how would Dhara come through this howling blizzard? Had Dandapani brought her back? Why hadn’t she come before?
Sakhi, oh, Sakhi, please, put wood on the fire!
“Stop shouting in my head,” Sakhi murmured. It was so strange. It must be a dream. She huddled further under the blankets.
You must put wood on the fire!
Sakhi poked her head out. The apparition or Dhara or whatever it was was still there. “It’s too cold. You do it.”
Dhara reached for a branch, but her hands seemed to go right through it. She swayed in a gust of air that whistled through the shutters. I can’t… I can’t…
“You must. I’m so cold.” Sakhi was getting sleepy again.
At that moment, Agastya roused. “Daughter… ”
Sakhi, what is wrong with Agastya? Dhara’s pale face showed her shock at Agastya’s haggard appearance.
Sakhi half-rose and put some twigs on the brazier, but the fire had almost gone out, and they didn’t catch.
Then a gust of wind came down the smoke hole. The dry twigs flared. The shadows fell back.
It’s caught! Sparks flew around Dhara’s transparent form. She smiled and whirled.
Sakhi sat up and put a pine bough on the fire. It burst into flames. The whole loft lit up. She held out her fingers to the heat. It was agony but they were thawing. She wanted to put them in the flames.
Then suddenly she was surrounded by flames. The bed was on fire.
No! It’s too fast!
The last of Sakhi’s weariness dropped away. She struggled to get up. “Dhara! Where are you? Help me.”
Sakhi! Dhara reached for Sakhi’s hand, but Sakhi couldn’t catch air. Ah, Mala, help me! Please, help Sakhi!
The moldy thatched roof burst into flames. Below, the goat bleated in terror.
The house would become their funeral pyre, Sakhi thought in horror.
The smoke choked her. Ghostly Dhara couldn’t save them. “Help me! Someone help!”
There was no response. Sakhi pulled at her mother’s clothes. “Get up!”
“Go, daughter.” Agastya coughed. “You must live.”
To her own horror, Sakhi wanted to leave her mother. The only thing stopping her was that her limbs wouldn’t obey her.
“Anyone here?”
The ladder rattled against the loft. A hairy yeti stuck his huge head above the floorboards. Sakhi shrieked.
The yeti climbed into the loft.
“Save her,” Agastya’s mother said.
Before Sakhi could say or do anything, the creature slung her over his shoulder. The smell of scorched wool filled her nostrils as her rescuer raced down the ladder. His shoulder was hard sinew and bone through his padded clothes. Clothes. Yetis were hairy as bears and didn’t need clothes. Sakhi was coughing and crying and couldn’t catch her breath.
There was a rushing sound and a blizzard of sparks as the roof collapsed and the man dashed outside. He dropped Sakhi on the fresh snow, which was thick but wet from the fire’s heat. It hissed against her clothes, which she only now realized were burning, and soon she was soaked. The wind whipped around her, blowing a few flakes against her face. The man took off his padded cloak and wound it around her limbs to smother the few remaining flames.
“M-mother,” she rasped.
Her rescuer looked her full in the face and shook his head. His green eyes were full of compassion.
Green eyes. The man in her dreams.
The wind was diminishing. Melting snow doused the crackling flames consuming the roof, which had collapsed in a heap. With a groan, the loft buckled under its weight. Her mother’s body was somewhere in the smoking ashes. “Mother,” she whispered.
People were shouting. Lights bobbed as villagers carrying torches made their way through the drifts.
“No need for those,” muttered her rescuer with a grim smile.
The half-burnt house, the green-eyed man, the wind and smoke all seemed to retreat as Sakhi watched herself watching the dreadful scene. She was numb.
The goat’s bell tinkled, and she bleated in panic as she stumbled through the deep snow. Mitu’s husband Deepa and their oldest son chased it, but it bounded from them until it came to stand next to an odd-looking ram, or bull, or buffalo, or Sakhi didn’t know what, whose back was loaded with tightly-bound bales. Another stranger, a short man or perhaps even a child—it was hard to tell, he was wrapped in so many layers of skins and blankets—held the beast’s halter. The goat sidled next to the animal, whose presence seemed to calm her, and stopped bleating. Villagers gathered round them to stare.
“Who… who are you?” Sakhi whispered.
“Bhallika. A Sakyan merchant.”
“Sakyan?” someone called. People murmured. “Sakyan.”
“I’m sorry about your mother.” Bhallika took her cold hand in both of his large, warm ones.
“Thank you.” Sakhi’s voice shook, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Now, child.” He wiped a tear away with a thick finger.
The tears spilled one after another, blurring the faces of the villagers who stood in a half-circle, watching them.
“You’re badly burned,” he said as he gently peeled away the blackened cloth. The snow had begun to fall again in huge, wet flakes, and as they landed on Sakhi’s blistering skin the cold shock made her gasp.
At that moment, Mitu ran up. “Sakhi-ji! Where is Mistress Agastya?”
Sakhi shook her head and started weeping again.
“Garuda!” someone shouted. The shaman and his wife appeared from their distant cottage.
“Ghosha!” Mitu said. “Sakhi is injured.”
The shaman’s wife struggled through the heavy snow. She stooped to examine Sakhi’s burnt legs in the fire’s dying light.
“The burns don’t look too bad,” Bhallika said.
“Who are you?” Ghosha demanded.
“Bhallika the Sakyan.”
Everyone stared, wordless. A smoldering plank fell, raising a shower of sparks.
“How did a Sakyan get here?” Dandapani trudged over a snowdrift, breakin
g a trail for the weapons master Jagai, who followed along with a few other warriors. Bhallika rose and stepped back.
“Sakhi,” cried Dandapani. “Are you all right?” He stopped and looked around, panting slightly. “Where is Agastya?”
Sakhi couldn’t speak.
Dandapani turned to the burned house. “If only we had seen the flames earlier.”
Sakhi felt sick. This wouldn’t have happened if the chief had cared enough to see for himself how they lived. “There was nothing to be done.” Her voice was bitter.
“But there was,” Ghosha said, nodding toward Bhallika. “This man saved you.”
Jagai gave Bhallika a menacing look. “A spy, eh?”
“Jagai,” Dandapani said. Jagai grunted and lowered his arm, but held onto his knife.
Bhallika cast a wary look at the assembled warriors.
“We owe you thanks for saving our Sakhi.” Dandapani knelt and put an arm around her. “You’ll forgive us if we’re suspicious. Sakyas and Kosalas have been intruding on our land.”
“How did you get through the village gates in this blizzard?” Jagai said.
“They were open. Rather careless, though only fools would attack in this storm.”
“Who was on duty?” Dandapani asked sharply. Prem looked at his boots. There was a little titter in the crowd. He’d probably been warming his Tilo’s bed instead of guarding the gate.
“I understand your suspicions, Chief Dandapani.”
“You know me, then.”
“Of course. Every Sakyan knows your skill at arms. To my mind, you should be making an alliance with we Sakyas. Together we could defeat the Kosalas once and for all.”
Jagai grunted, but Dandapani regarded Bhallika. “This is no time for merchants to be traveling the mountains.”
“I was journeying among the Han people, trading for silk, and heard about a fabulous kingdom hidden in Lord Himalaya’s lands. I took a detour on my way home to find it.”
The Mountain Goddess Page 9
