The Last Days of Kali Yuga

by Paul Haines

  She sat cross-legged near the water's edge, up on the ghats, staring at the sunset. She waved and beckoned me over. I climbed up the steps, the stone worn smooth by centuries of pilgrims' wet feet. My stomach fluttered as I approached and again I had that sense of the surreal, as if I'd been here before, with her blue eyes locked on mine, an embrace deeper than a lover's. Sometimes, in a moment of vulnerability, I'd experienced this when meeting someone for the first time. That deep acknowledgement, a subconscious pull of mutual attraction. But never the feeling without meeting first.

  'Hi,' I said, trying to keep my voice cool, staunch, wise. Travelled.

  'I'm Shane.'

  'Hello,' she said. A soft English accent, maybe London. 'Please sit; we don't have much time.'

  She wore loose-fitting, dusk-coloured cotton clothing, typical long-term tourist attire. Her blond hair had been tied into a braid and hung over her shoulder, resting on her breast. Her perfume hinted of jasmine and sandalwood. As we made eye contact, I expected the deliriously uncomfortable feeling to continue, but it didn't. And her eyes weren't blue, they were hazel.

  'You're late.' She stretched out her legs. In this light, they looked smooth and tanned.

  'Guptal only just told me,' I said. She seemed pretty forward. I hoped that equated with eager.

  She shook her head. 'You were supposed to arrive a week ago. We have little time left to begin the rituals.'

  Overhead, the sky darkened as the sun dipped behind the horizon. From the east, clouds smothered the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  I laughed. 'Look, lady, I think you're mistaking me for someone else. I don't know anything about any rituals. I don't even know your name.'

  She smiled sadly. 'I suspected as much. We have less time than I hoped. How much do you remember?'

  'I have no idea what you're talking about.' I hated it when people played games like this. Especially sexy women. I'd been played too many times before. 'I just got here. And now I'm leaving.'

  She grabbed my arm as I tried to stand, her touch electric—a spark of sweat and flame.

  'I'm sorry. Please, sit. You can call me Holly.' She slid her hand down my arm to my wrist, curling her fingers gently around mine. She pulled me back down.

  'Let's start again. Why did you come to Pushkar?' she asked. The standard, comfortable getting-to-know-you question.

  I didn't want to say I was suffering from fevers and diarrhoea. 'Felt like a good place to stop. What about you?'

  Holly nodded. 'Exactly. I was drawn to this place. From the moment I arrived, I knew I was supposed to be here. Do you believe in reincarnation?'

  I smiled. The spiritual ones were the easiest. Three months in the sub-continent had taught me that. 'It's something I'm interested in.'

  'The closer you are to the source,' Holly said, pointing towards the lake, 'the more of your past lives you'll remember.'

  'Is that what you meant when you asked me how much I remembered? How much do you remember?'

  'By the time I arrived in Pushkar, I knew who I was. And now I know what must be done.' Holly smiled again and touched my arm. No sparks, just warm flesh. 'Sounds crazy, I know, but you must accept it.'

  'I don't remember a past life,' I said.

  'This will help you remember.' Holly stood and slipped out of her clothes in one impossibly fluid movement.

  I felt that hot surge of blood, an equal dose of desire and embarrassment, and quickly looked away, suddenly unsure of who had control of this game. That brief glimpse of her inner thighs so close to my face, the curl of hair above the slit. The thunder rumbled again, this time closer.

  She waded into the lake, its dark waters claiming her skin inch by inch, moving up and over the curve of her cheeks until it caressed her waist. The muscles in her back shuddered. She pushed forwards from the ghats, propelling herself towards the centre of the lake. She turned back to me, her shoulders bobbing above the water.

  'Are you coming in?'

  I watched for a second, wondering if I was in a position to tease her, to make her come out and get me. To have that beautiful naked body dripping above me. To pull her into a wet embrace. But only for a second. I wasn't that stupid.

  I stood at the edge, naked and self-conscious. The water felt warm, almost thick. A chill gripped me, instantly countered by a hot flush. I stood disoriented, staring at the surface of the sky as clouds filled the lake.

  Holly called.

  I followed the ghats down into the lake. Slime squelched between my toes. Holly bobbed further away, beckoning. The waters sucked at my thighs, lapped at my groin, seducing me. Lightning split the sky over the ancient palace. Thunder roared, its anger rumbling across the ghats.

  I dived into the lake, its once-smooth waters rippling with fat raindrops. Instantly cocooned, my momentum lost in an embryonic drift, I floated in a suspended state. In and back, further back ...

  need to breathe

  suck

  shapes in the blackness below

  hungry, swarming

  breathe

  I broke the surface, choking on the scream lodged in my throat. I gasped, floundering, trying to climb from the water into the air. I gulped a breath before I sank below the surface again.

  But it was water, only water, polluted by the filth of centuries: the essence of life. And here in this desert, an undrinkable bath. I trod water, looking for Holly. Around me, the surface of the lake danced and spat, the rain sheeting from above.

  'This is a good sign.' Holly touched my shoulder from behind.

  'They say it hasn't rained here this winter. Even that winter never came.'

  I turned and we were in each other's arms. Our thighs brushed as we trod water; our legs intertwined.

  Her body pressed against mine.

  'This lake can wash away the sins of a lifetime,' said Holly. 'For some, it is salvation.' Her hand moved down to the small of my back and she pulled me closer. 'The water holds memories from as far back as creation.'

  She smiled as our groins touched. I knew she felt my erection.

  'And if the lake is salvation, where do you think the sin is washed to?' she asked.

  'Who cares?' I kissed her.

  We wrapped ourselves in each other's bodies and sank below the surface. Down. Mouths exploring, at first tentatively, and then, as our breath faded and lungs tightened, with more vigour. Holly wrapped her legs around my waist. As we sank, I gripped her buttocks, trying to position myself to enter her, but it was too awkward. Her hands cupped my cheeks as we kissed. I fumbled again, trying to guide myself in. My lungs burned. I slid my hands under her armpits and kicked gently, trying to urge her to surface with me. She resisted, tightening her grip around my waist. Holly's fingers were suddenly in my mouth. She pulled away from the kiss, prising my mouth open. Her thighs squeezed tighter. I opened my eyes. Through the murk, Holly stared, her face a mask of concentration. She squeezed again and I gasped, sucking in a lungful of lake. I panicked and the water poured in, to fill me, own me.

  I kicked upwards. Black lights burst behind my eyelids.

  An arm around my chest. Pulled up and up and need to breathe ... skin scraped on stone steps, bumping, dragged. Someone turned me on my side. I coughed and water gushed from my mouth.

  Holly whispered into my ear, 'Don't believe what Harry says. He may try to kill you. Neither of us needs to die, but spring must come.'

  Her footsteps on the ghats made wet slapping sounds that eventually faded away.

  I lay unable to move as chills racked my body. The storm had passed, and though Pushkar was blanketed in darkness, the white walls of the deserted palace shone under the waxing moon. And soon that blanket of darkness lay over me.

  #

  A hand pressed against my face. Hot and smothering.

  I tried to sit up, but was pushed back. Onto something soft. My hotel bed.

  Harry sat on the edge of the bed, his big hands forcing my shoulders down onto the mattress. A damp cloth slipped from my forehea
d onto the pillow. He took it, dipped it in a bowl of icy water, and returned it to my brow. I was burning up.

  'Easy, my son,' said Harry. 'You are safe now.'

  'She tried to drown me!'

  Harry shook his head. 'Calm yourself. Guptal, hand me the cup.'

  Guptal appeared from behind Harry's bulk and gave him a small cup. His eyes no longer seemed lifeless; instead they burned with an intensity to match my fever.

  Harry propped up my head and put the cup to my lips. A dark, murky water, reminiscent of the lake. It smelt of cardamom and cloves.

  'Drink. You have malaria. This will help your fever.'

  'No, I have pills. I need a doctor.'

  'There is no doctor here any more.'

  He poured the liquid into my mouth. Sweet and warm, and I swallowed.

  'Your cries were heard all over the courtyard,' said Harry. 'I had to let myself into your room. You would not answer.'

  'My room? No, I was at the lake with Holly. She tried to drown me.'

  Harry shook his head, jowls wobbling. 'No, you were here on your bed. In the fever dream. We had to hold you down. So much sweat.'

  I spied my wet clothes on the floor. Guptal held damp bed sheets, avoiding my eyes.

  'Guptal, tell him!' I said. 'You took me to see Holly at the lake.'

  The boy shuffled out of the room. My head felt thick; a numbing buzz danced over my brow. Harry leered over me, his face blurring into the back of the room. He may try to kill you. Leaden limbs. Mud on the floor. From the lake. Poison in the cup. Must move ... can't ...

  Harry's voice spoke from the pillow. 'This will lend you strength, help you sleep. The memories will come.' His hard cotton lips whispered into my ear, 'You and the demon are eternally linked. She will try to kill you on the eve of the festival.'

  Door closing, lights fading, fast ...

  #

  I stepped over a blackened body, flames eating what little flesh still remained on the bone. There was no sun or moon; instead, the sky had been washed blood-orange. Waves of heat bellowed from behind, urging me up the palatial steps to where a Harry carved in youth and muscle stood waiting. His face showed no comprehension that all he was would soon fall apart. Ants swarmed over the stone tiles, oblivious to the heat. Long, coarse hair had sprouted from my skin, which was coated in yellow and red dyes. Harry slowly backed away, unable to take his eyes from the burning body. In the entranceway to his palace, I tore open his throat to bring the rains.

  God is great.

  #

  Morning sunlight slapped my face.

  My muscles ached and my head felt cloudy, but aside from that, I felt fine. I showered until the water ran from hot to cold, trying to gather my thoughts from the previous day. I was no longer sure what had happened. Memories bled into each other, indistinct and hazy, married with dreams. Harry had been here, though; the bowls of dye sat on the dresser. I suspected he'd given me hallucinogens. If I had malaria, I needed to find a doctor fast.

  The courtyard was deserted, the hotel grounds silent. I rang the bell at reception and waited. The gates were ajar. The guard had apparently deserted his post. I rang the bell again. When no one came, I wandered into the street. The stalls were boarded up, the streets empty. Even the persistent flies had vanished. The air smelt electric and the charge was still building.

  I wanted to go back to my room, to lie down and wake up again. But my legs marched forwards in long, confident strides. My body wasn't listening; instead it led me back to the lake.

  The water mirrored the sky, an unbroken blue. Three-storied buildings with peeling whitewash ringed the shore of the lake. There was no palace.

  Holly stood submerged to her waist, her back to me. The water splashed around her. It looked as if she held something beneath the surface.

  'Holly!' I ran towards her.

  She turned, her face impassive. Guptal broke from beneath the water.

  'Prahlad, help me!' he screamed.

  Holly thrust him under again. 'He has chosen. He is free.'

  'You're killing him!'

  When I was within arm's reach of her, the thrashing in the water frenzied then stopped. Guptal's body bobbed to the surface, red blossoming around him into the blue. His head lolled backwards, almost severed.

  'Oh, Jesus.' The words barely a whisper from my mouth. I wasn't running any more. I just stood there, hip-deep in Guptal's blood.

  Holly brought a six-inch blade up to her mouth and kissed it. A smear of red stained her lips. 'Not Jesus. Vishnu. God is great.'

  'What have you done?'

  'Only what was asked.' She stepped towards me, her hazel eyes on mine. 'The demon has been set free.'

  I couldn't move. The tip of the blade pricked the flesh beneath my chin.

  Holly's face was calm, almost serene. 'Brahma forsook this place long ago. His worshippers are trapped here in bondage. Vishnu has returned to free them.'

  She kissed me gently on the lips. Guptal on my lips. Her breath smelt sweet. Clean.

  'I have always loved you,' she said. 'Our blood is the same blood. You have the choice. Join me.'

  'Holly, please.' I tried to move, but my limbs were frozen. 'This is not right. You need help.'

  'I know.' The soft English accent. So calm and understanding. 'Help me kill the king of the demons plaguing this oasis. Help me kill Harry. Or I will kill you.'

  I knew none of this was happening. Guptal's body wasn't floating in the lake. She wasn't here. I wasn't here. But I didn't know where I was.

  I heard someone screaming and wondered if it was me.

  #

  The shower pattered on the chipped tiles in the bathroom.

  I stood naked and shivering on the balcony outside my room, looking out over the courtyard. Above me, the sun bled into the sky. People below were laughing and pointing. My chest, still damp, had been smeared with red gulal. My thighs were coated blue. I touched my face. A scab of yellow dye came away on my finger.

  Wet footprints trod rainbow patterns across my room. Candles floated in bowls of fragrant oils, dozens of them, lining the dresser, the table, edging the walls on the floor. The door hung from its hinges. How long had I been standing here?

  Someone screamed in a room nearby. Another scream, a piercing shriek that sliced off at its zenith. The people in the courtyard below scattered. Harry appeared from the shadows around reception. A grin split his face when he saw me.

  'It begins. Stay there!' he yelled.

  He unsheathed the scimitar from the wall behind the desk, then ran for the stairwell. Holly had been right. He was going to kill me.

  I ran into the hallway. Maybe I could get to the walls of the hotel—fuck the broken glass; it wasn't to keep people out, I realised, it was to keep them in—and make the safety of the crowds of other people in the town. There had to be an embassy, a police station, something.

  Holly stood at the end of the hallway, framed in the dying light of day. She stepped over the body at her feet—Guptal, huddled in loops of intestine—and advanced slowly. Her naked body glistened wet with blood. She pointed the blade in her hand towards me.

  'He cannot touch us until you decide. His fate is determined by your actions.' Her face was emotionless. Blank.

  Holly. Holika. The demon reincarnated.

  'You're insane,' I said. 'What fucked-up, paranoid trip are you on?'

  'Are you with me?' she asked.

  I backed away. 'I won't help you kill Harry. I'm not Prahlad. I'm not your salvation. But I can help you if you put down the knife.'

  Holly shook her head, her lips tight. 'If you're not with me, well, then....' She lunged forwards, her blade missing me by inches.

  I sprinted back to the door, grabbing the frame and swinging into my room. I slipped on the wet floor, crashing into the oil burners. The oil ignited. The muslin curtains whooshed, framing the window in flames. I scrambled to my feet.

  'Holika!' Holly screamed, and leapt onto me, the snick of her blade slicing my ear.
>
  We tumbled to the floor, her momentum sliding us through the burning oil. The knife slashed my chest and she lifted her arm to strike again. I caught her wrist. We held that position for what must have been only seconds, then slowly the knife made its way back down, inching closer to my skin. In my weakened state, there was no way I could match her strength.

  Her hazel eyes stared into mine. There was no hatred there, no anger. Only pity. My other arm, pinioned by Holly's elbow, had started burning, but felt detached from the pain.

  The sheets on the bed burst into flames. Sweat dripped from her brow into my eyes. I groped blindly for the braid hanging down her back.

  'Forgive me, Holika,' she said. 'Vishnu gave you the chance. Remember I always loved you.' The blade kissed my skin. She pushed against my grip.

  My fingers found her braid and I pulled her head back hard. She let out a grunt and the pressure on the knife relaxed. And then resumed. The tip of the blade pierced the skin of my chest. I gasped. So this was how it ended. No loved ones, no memories, no life before the eyes.

  Holly's head shone like it was haloed. And for the first time, she allowed herself to show emotion, with a smile. The smile of a mother putting her child to bed.

  Then the halo erupted into a ball of flame. The stench of burning hair filled my nostrils. She screamed, the knife forgotten, and tried to douse the flames with her hands. I bucked and she sprawled sideways, her head engulfed, still screaming. I kicked her away and picked up the knife. I stood up, legs shaking. I was aware I, too, was on fire, but I felt nothing. The dye, the gulal, burned instead of my skin.

  Harry loomed in the doorway, the scimitar clutched in one massive hand. The sweat on his face shone in the firelight. He grinned at me.

  'What have we here, sister? Have you killed my son yet?'

  Holly managed to stumble to her feet and lunge towards him. He sidestepped and severed her head. Her body dropped to the floor.

  He kissed the blade and nodded to me. 'Thank you, Holika.' His fat lips glistened with Holly's blood. 'But only one of us three can survive the festival. And with Prahlad dead, well...even Vishnu knows what must happen next.'