He tried to imagine how foreigners — with their glowing complexions, expensive clothes, and seemingly endless prosperity — must appear to these untouchables, and shook his head as he walked, feeling guilty even though he’d done nothing wrong. Only a few days before, he’d been worrying about losing most of his fortune due to the larceny of the hedge fund to which he’d entrusted his money, and now he was among an entire population for whom the cost of a nice dinner at home could support a family for a month.
Spencer told himself that his only crime was to have been born on the right side of the planet, and that he was blameless for these people’s circumstance, but the assurance felt hollow. The truth was if someone had shown him footage, he would have tuned out, preoccupied by his own concerns, there being a limit to how much suffering he could endure before losing interest. This was the way of the world, and he couldn’t change it: his neighbors would agonize over which color Bentley coupe to buy next, which Aspen ski condo would appreciate the most, which first-growth Bordeaux showed the greatest promise of aging well, and he would gripe about how poorly his Lamborghini ran, how impractical it was in traffic, how much fuel it consumed each week.
But here, the vapidity of his existence struck home with a resonance he’d never experienced.
He arrived at the outskirts of town soaked through with sweat and flagged down a bicycle rickshaw, light-headed from lack of hydration. The driver nodded once when he told him what he was after, and began pedaling for a district where a good quality digital camera could be bought at a reasonable price — and a hot, tired son of privilege could cool himself with a chilled drink in the comfort of the shade. He’d considered using the crappy built-in camera on the cell phone, but saw no reason to take any chances.
Spencer noted that there were far more women in traditional garb than he’d seen in New Delhi, and presumed that it held true the further from the metropolis he traveled. He knew from his online reading that Mumbai and Bangalore were urban and cosmopolitan, as was Delhi, with skyscrapers jutting into the sky like giant fangs, but the poor usually wore the robes of the provinces, their only possessions the clothes on their back, immediately identifying them as victims to be exploited by the big-city operators.
The store was an electronics emporium with loud music from overhead speakers and countless muted big-screen televisions flashing the same film — a musical, Spencer guessed by the elaborate dance numbers. He took his time with his purchase, having nowhere else to be, and after an hour walked out of the store with a Canon that fit in the palm of his hand whose images he could download to any computer and send to Allie.
He spent the afternoon on a computer in a cyber café, drinking bottled water and eating his fill of junk food, sticking with packaged goods in an effort to avoid stomach troubles. The brief stop in the public restroom had given him all too much information on the hygiene he might expect in the boonies, and he had resigned himself to eating garbage unless in a high-traffic restaurant with above-market prices.
As the sun drifted lower in an eggplant sky, he paid his tab and made for the temple, the temperature now moderate enough to brave the trek all the way to the holy spot on foot. Hopefully he’d spent sufficient time for the site to clear of laborers. Wood smoke drifted from nearby fields burning the remnants of crops, mingling with the ever-present pollution from ancient cars, the combination a constant irritant to his burning eyes and throat.
The weight of the gun he’d confiscated at the professor’s house pressed against the small of his back, providing reassurance that in the event he was jumped, it would be the last thing his assailants ever did. He didn’t know what the statistics were on violent crime in rural India, but with the general impoverishment of the majority, he had to believe he was a target, and he spent the entire walk scanning around him, alert to any threats as he made his way to the temple.
Chapter 37
Drake and Allie stopped at a clothing store to add some needed items to his empty backpack and then set off for the ashram, unsure what to expect. As they walked along, Drake felt Allie’s presence as a dull ache. Circumstances had turned out far differently than he’d hoped when he’d invited her to India. He’d had visions of lounging around with her on the balcony of a five-star hotel, their nights devoted to passionate lovemaking, their days spent exploring the exotic reaches of a mystical land. Reality had been a brick to the face, and he felt like they were growing apart with every step they took.
The dome and spires of the ashram rose above the surrounding dwellings, reflecting the afternoon sun, the walls painted an orange hue not found in nature. As they neared the three-story arch that marked the entrance to the complex, they could make out long rows of dormitories ringing a massive structure whose elaborate dome seemed to glow like a beacon.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Allie whispered.
“Amazing,” Drake agreed, although he suspected the irony was lost on her.
They approached the gate, where four white-clad staff watched them with cautious smiles. Allie took the lead when they reached the checkpoint.
“We’re here to see about spending some time at the ashram,” she said to the men. “My brother and I have traveled many miles to reach this blessed spot. We hope you have room.”
They smiled at Drake and Allie, radiating benevolence, and pulled one side of the gate open. “Swami Baba Raja’s ashram is open to all who seek enlightenment. Come, let me show you to the admissions area,” one of them said with a small bow.
They followed the man to a sky blue building where several other hopefuls stood in line while two women, also in head-to-toe white, processed them in. One of the arrivals appeared to be a local; the other pair, like Drake and Allie, were obviously foreigners, their sunburned pale complexions identifying them as tourists.
“Please, have a seat,” the man said, indicating a carved bench along one of the walls. “It shouldn’t take too long,” he assured them, and then retreated through the entryway, leaving them to their thoughts.
The pair in front of them whispered to each other in German, confirming their origin, and then one of the female staff waved them forward, and Drake and Allie rose and took their place in the queue area. The other woman finished with the local and pointed to a changing area, and then beamed a greeting at them and motioned for them to approach.
“Hello,” she said. “Welcome to the Ashram of Eternal Bliss. You wish to spend time with us?”
“Yes,” Allie replied. “My brother and I want to study with the swami. It’s been a dream of ours since we first saw his videos.”
“Excellent,” the woman said, and slid two forms and a pair of ballpoint pens to them. “Please fill these out, and I will fetch you some clothes. Everyone wears white here, fashioned from the same cloth, to symbolize the purity of enlightenment and our essential equality.”
Allie completed the short questionnaires for them both, noting that the price per day of their stay was that of a moderately priced hotel. The woman returned and handed them each a neatly folded bundle. “I guessed your sizes. My apologies if I got them wrong. We only have small, medium, or large. Your brother’s are large; yours, small. I trust they will do.” She studied Allie for a long beat. “How many days would you like to pay for?”
“Oh, at least one week,” Allie said, trying to sound excited.
“Very good. Payment is in advance, cash only. We accept rupees, dollars, and euro — the conversion rates are posted there,” she said, indicating a board behind her. “What currency?”