Path to Nirvana
Sheila said, “My life’s meaningless, it’s so empty.”
No matter what Rahul tried—shopping, movies, gourmet wine—she didn’t snap out of that dreary state of mind. Admittedly, the lack of offspring was a gaping hole in their otherwise full life.
To his deep dismay, she started to immerse herself in books on spirituality and began to attend sermons on enlightenment and enrichment of the soul.
Most weekends she camped out at an ashram in Whitefield, a Bangalore suburb.
She would rave, “Oh! You must come with me, Rahul! Our guru, Lala ji is so knowledgeable! He makes me see the light! Lala ji splits his time between Bangalore and the Bay area. He’s world famous, millions of followers on Twitter!” Sheila took a big swig of her beer, “Lala ji eats only dry fruits and nuts, totally vegetarian and organic, and drinks only camel milk.”
“Camel milk? We can’t have camels in this state. The high court ruled that camels can’t be brought into our state. People were abusing those poor creatures.”
Sheila waved impatiently. “Oh yeah, yeah, I Know, I know. But Lala ji got permission to keep a few camels in his ashram, um, only for milk. He’s a scrupulous follower of Gandhian philosophy.”
“But, Gandhi ji drank goat milk, not camel’s.”
Sheila thundered. “Oh, that’s just a minor detail, don’t harp on small stuff, focus on the big picture. Just like Gandhi ji, Lala ji is totally celibate. Just like Gandhi ji, Lala ji sleeps beside two young women every night. He doesn’t touch them, doesn’t do anything. And you know what, not the same women every night. The ladies take turns. It’s an honor. A sure-fire way to nirvana.” She folded her hands and looked up. “I’m awaiting my turn, maybe one of these days,” she sighed, “there’s a long line of women waiting for that honor, to smell the holy one’s pure body, oh! what an honor it’ll be, I just can’t wait.”
“Pity the poor women, the old goat must fart to high heaven, ah, eating all those nuts, ha, ha, ha.”
“Rahul! Don’t joke like that! It’s blasphemy to speak of Lala ji in that tone. For your information, he’s not old, um, he’s in his forties, very handsome, tall and well built.”
“If he’s so handsome, why the women keep still, one would think they might seduce him, and before he realizes, um, a ménage à trois…ha, ha, ha.”
Sheila screamed, “Stop it! Stop it! It’s big mistake to talk to you about Lala ji. You don’t appreciate his philosophy.”
*
While he brushed off Sheila’s spiritual shenanigans, he was, however, far from pleased when she began to avoid their connubial encounters. Night after night she pushed him away. “Lala ji says sex is a hindrance to the path to nirvana.”
Rahul said impatiently, “Sheila, this should stop. For god’s sake, I’m your husband. We can’t, we just can’t go on like this. I love you, Sheila, and, and I need you.”
“Rahul, the time has come to eschew these carnal cravings.” Sheila got out of bed. “From tonight, I’m gonna sleep in the guest bedroom. Goodnight.” She kissed him on his forehead, another death knell for their passionate pastimes. She paused at the door, “I want to be celibate for some time. Lala ji says that celibacy helps us heal and become physically vibrant, and it also strengthens our sense of self.”
Rahul was painfully aware of his inability to compete with the guru who so skillfully brainwashed Sheila.
An epitome of sexuality, with her come-hither looks and sensuous gait, the vocal and warm Sheila never held herself back. Therefore, it was all the more distressing to be deprived of her eager embraces. He spent many a tormented night, tossing and turning.
During their daily lives, he could hardly fail to be aroused while Sheila toweled, or her smooth axilla while she blow-dried her long, lustrous hair, or her braless boobs bouncing in her T-shirt while she walked around the house. He longed for days gone by when they fell into each other’s arms at the slightest hint. Now, unable to touch her, let alone kiss or fondle, he felt desolate, dejected and dreadful.
*
He moved back to his apartment, and went about his life—teaching, meeting with his students, hanging out at his parents’ house, playing with his niece and nephew. He missed Sheila and wished she did not get involved with that spiritual mumbo jumbo.
With a drink in hand, he stood on his balcony and let the cool breeze from the Sankey lake caress him. He recalled the first time he kissed Sheila on this very balcony. Then as now, the lights of the teeming traffic on the semicircular Sankey road looked like pearls around a damsel’s slender neck. Their companionable silence was punctuated by Bollywood songs of yesteryear playing at a distance, probably from a wedding celebration in Vyali Kaval. A gust of wind blew her silky hair onto him and a subtle sandalwood fragrance permeated his nostrils. He was glad of her good taste, unlike some women whose perfume preceded them. The music and the reflection of distant lights in the gently rippling waters, and the proximity of her voluptuous body were enchanting. He drew her close and looked into her almond eyes. Sheila put her slender arms around him, and proffered her puckered lips.
*
Sheila’s email:
Hope you are doing well. Sorry about our acrimonious meeting before you moved out. If only you agreed to attend the inspiring discourses at the ashram, you’d have appreciated my position. It’s a long path to nirvana and self-awareness. However, with motivation, moderation and meditation, I hope to achieve it. On my guru’s advice I gave up alcohol.
Rahul, I still love you and really miss you. Please don’t be angry at me. Anger is bad for your soul.
Rahul shook his head at Sheila’s latest resolve. He thought, Abstaining from sex is bad enough and now to deny herself a soothing drink or two is extremely rash and her path, if indeed such a path exists, to nirvana will only get longer and harder. He knew only too well that an earthy woman like Sheila needed multiple orgasms and madeira on a daily basis.
*
When his doorbell rang, Rahul saw a disheveled Sheila through the peep hole. The moment he opened the door, she stumbled into his arms and sobbed silently, with tears streaming out of her lovely, brown eyes.
He guided her to a couch and gave her a large whiskey, “Here, drink this, you’ll feel better.”
For the slightest moment she hesitated, but gulped it down quickly.
“Sheila, whatsa matter?”
“We, I mean the devotees, um, we were all chanting slokas and waiting for Lala ji, you know, for the evening prayers. But, instead of Lala ji, cops burst into the ashram and nabbed anybody they could get hold of. I hid in a bathroom until the hullabaloo subsided. And then, and then, I climbed up the fence in the backyard and ran to catch an autoriksha. I’m scared. I can’t go home. The cops might have my name and address, and, and, put me behind bars. And my car is still parked at the ashram.”
“Don’t worry, Sheila, I’ll make sure you won’t be bothered. Lemme call my dad. He has friends in high places, ah, he’s well connected. But, why did the cops raid? Is any illegal stuff going on, drugs?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know anything. God, I’m starving, first I need a shower, I’m so grimy, all that fence climbing and running. Sweetie, please order a deluxe pizza, and pour me a cold one.”
*
Next morning the headlines blared of a pedophilia ring in the ashram. Lala was alleged to be the ring leader. The police sealed off the ashram. Lala and his henchmen were on the run.
Sheila spat out the words with utmost disgust. “That goddam Lala. I can’t forgive him, never, never, ah, um, pedophilia, never, never, all those poor, innocent children.” She shivered.
“Come, come, baby. A man is innocent until proven guilty. These are only allegations.”
Sheila frowned. “Nonsense, he’s guilty all right, why else would he run away, huh? I’m sure somebody higher up must have tipped him off about the raid. All that celibacy, camel milk, sleeping in the same bed with women, it’s all a big hoax. He’s a pervert, it’s most disgusting.”
*
A few weeks later, leading newspapers published pictures of Lala living it up in the Bay area hotspots and hobnobbing with well-known Hollywood moguls.
Sheila said, “That pervert is gonna get a movie deal now. He’ll never be brought to Bangalore to stand trial.”
“That’s the trend these days, drug dealers and dangerous demagogues get book deals and movie deals, rapists and wife-beaters achieve pinnacle of power, the world is totally screwed.” Rahul shook his head and shrugged.