Vegas to Varanasi (Fortytude Series Book 1) (15 page)

Twenty-Four

I wake before dawn the next morning to Kiran kissing my shoulder and wrapping his arm around my rib cage. “Good morning,” he says.

Covering his arm with mine, I squeeze his hand. “Good morning.” I’m glad I needed to pee about an hour ago because when I got up to do my business, I made sure to use some mouthwash before returning to bed.

“Do you still want to do the sunrise boat ride today?” he asks, nuzzling my ear.

Mmmmm. His voice sends shivers down my spine.

I roll over to look at him. “Yes, if you do.”

He smiles and lightly touches my face. “I have other things in mind, but we would have to rush, and that would be unacceptable.” However, his statement doesn’t stop him from kissing my neck, my collarbone.

I chuckle and let out a small squeal of delight. “Alright, enough of that,” I say and push him away. “No teasing!”

He props his head on his hand and scowls. “Okay.”

“I have to ask you something, and I hope you don’t find it rude. Or insensitive.”

“Ask me anything.”

“Ohhhh,” I sigh as I stare at the ceiling, nervous about how to word my question. “You told me you haven’t dated a lot.”

“I haven’t.”

I place a hand on my forehead, feeling ridiculous for what I’m about to ask, but I have to know. “How did you get so good in the sack?”

“Why, thank you,” he says with a grin.

“No, I mean it.” I raise my eyebrows. “Really good!”

He laughs at my candor, and if the room wasn’t so dimly lit, I’m sure I would detect a blush in his dark complexion.

“Am I getting too personal?” I ask.

He makes a face and groans as if he’s uncomfortable. “It’s not too personal, but a bit embarrassing to tell you.”

“It’s the Kama Sutra, right?” I’m joking, but the second I say it, I wish I hadn’t and bring my hand to my mouth. “I hope that wasn’t racist.”

“You are a crazy one. And no. Not the Kama Sutra.” He sits up in bed and leans against the wall. And oh my God, that chest! I just wanna take a bite out of him. “This never goes past this room,” he says, raising a finger. “Especially, to my mother.”

I sit up as well, holding the blankets to my body. “Okay, now you’ve really got my attention.” He’s not going to share some story involving a brothel, is he?

“After I was nearly down to a normal weight, I started going to the gym—”

“Clearly!” I gesture to his body.

He smirks at me. “... And hired a personal trainer. She was a few years my senior.”

Ah, I see.

I smack him in the arm. “You scamp, you!” Scamp? Who says scamp? “Kiran had himself a cougar to show him the ropes.”

He crosses his arms and lowers his head, grinning sheepishly. “Yes, I did. A younger woman could have easily played that role. It just turned out that she was... seasoned,” he says with slow nod.

I creep toward him and kiss him on the lips. “I believe I need to send her a thank you card.”

***

We reach Dasaswamedh Ghat at sunrise to the clanging of brass bells, and a heavy fog hangs over the Ganges. Though the temperature is already in the eighties, compared to the unrelenting heat of late morning and afternoon, the air is cool and moist.

Small row boats float in clusters at the bottom of the ghats, where locals await passengers for tours on the river.

After Kiran secures a boat that we will share with several other tourists, he steps on board, holding out his hand to me as I follow. He continues to hold my hand in his lap once we are seated toward the front of the boat, and I feel like a giddy schoolgirl.

“What do the bells signify?” I ask quietly, leaning into him.

“They’re to attract the attention of the gods.”

“Is your family Hindu?” I don’t want to assume that just because they are Indian, that automatically makes them Hindus. They could be Christian, for all I know.

“Dadi is a practicing Hindu. Both of my parents were raised Hindu, but they aren’t practicing, and didn’t raise me with a particular faith.”

“Same here. I’ve only taken Carly and Hayden to church a handful of times. I kind of always wanted to let them decide on their own.” I’ve bounced around a few churches in my life, but never found one that I truly connected with.

We now slowly journey down the river, and our guide begins sharing various facts about Varanasi. Though he speaks English, he talks very fast and his accent is thick, making it difficult for me to keep up with what he’s saying. His words become muddy background noise as I focus my attention on the tranquility of the river. Several boats surround us as we travel, and the passengers loaded in each vessel speak in hushed tones.

I have a much better view of the buildings than I did when we walked along the ghats the day before, and I take out my camera to capture some images of the colorful architecture that rises from the ground, resembling small castles. Contemplating the antiquity of this place is somewhat surreal. I’ve never been anywhere whose history spanned centuries, and this realization brings about a reverence that’s hard to express.  

Birds chatter, swooping through the air above us, as we watch people perform their morning bathing ritual in the river. Women descend into the water wearing their saris, far enough to launch tiny boats lit with candles. Our guide explains that these are offerings to the Ganges, usually made with leaves joined together by twigs, holding marigolds and camphor inside.

As I observe the worshippers make their offerings, and the little boats gently bob on the surface of the river in the still of the morning, my throat tightens with emotion. Yes, this is all simply ritual that may or may not have any aftermath for these people, but the devotion and earnestness with which they surrender themselves to this holy water, with its poisons, sewage, and on occasion, decomposing flesh, is in some strange way, beautiful.

My aversion to the water yesterday feels almost sacrilegious, for there is something truly spiritual about this place that can never be conveyed in words. Goosebumps rise on my skin and I rub my arms.

It suddenly feels as if I’m being watched, and I look at Kiran to find him studying me. He smiles softly, and I hug his arm. “It’s... This is kinda moving.”

He leans in and gives me a light kiss.

We arrive at Manikarnika Ghat, where fires burn continually with cremations of the deceased. In contrast to the other ghats, the surrounding buildings are considerably more dingy, covered in years of soot.

We are drifting at least a hundred feet away from the ghat, but close enough to see two bodies lying on the steps, wrapped in brightly colored fabric. A third body is being dipped in the Ganges by several men, before it will be taken to the fire. Our guide explains that being cremated here liberates the soul from the cycle of life and death, which is why many Hindus come here to die. I silently wonder if this is where Dadi will be laid to rest, but don’t feel it’s appropriate to ask.

It’s difficult to tell through the smoke how many cremations are taking place, but I’m surprised to detect no offending smell—just burning wood. The guide is explaining the differences in wood, how the wealthy buy sandalwood because it burns the best, however, I’m more intrigued by the activity along the bank. It seems chaotic, as men wander the ghat with various duties. Animals, such as cows and goats, can be seen. Dogs even scavenge at the edge of the water.

Everyone is so... unaffected. I overhear our guide explain that women are not permitted at the cremations, because it is believed their sorrow will detract the soul from its journey.

It’s strange, the vast contrast in perspectives between the East and West. Observing this display, it’s all very matter-of-fact, an acceptance of the process, where we westerners don’t deal nearly as well. There is clearly an understanding that death is yet another juncture of our existence, that, as a whole, we in the West don’t seem to embrace.

As we make our journey back, I wish the kids were here to experience it with me, although I’m not sure I would have had such an appreciation of this place when I was in my early twenties.

I miss them, and really hope David has stopped pestering Carly. I still haven’t responded to his last message, even though I know I should.

***

“Well, what did you think?” Kiran asks as we walk up the steps upon returning to Dasaswamedh. “You’ve been quiet.”

I respond with a brief shiver, trying to express the effect on me. “It was wonderful. I’ll never forget it.”

Following the tour, I decide I would like to bring home some holy water with me as a keepsake, and purchase one of the small vials that are sold by the Ganges.

“I didn’t want to ask while we were on the boat, and this is probably an ignorant question, but why are there swastikas on some of the buildings?” Surely this place was never occupied by Nazis, but I’ll be the first to admit that history isn’t my strong suit.

“Oh, the symbol has been used by Hindus long before Nazi Germany. It means
to be good
.”

How sad that Hitler changed how the world sees the symbol now.

Planning to return this evening to watch the fire worship ceremony we missed last night, we remain for only another hour, doing some shopping and stopping for a couple of snacks, before heading back.

After last night, I’m not quite sure what to expect once we reach the apartment. I could actually go for a nap from getting up so early. What can I say? I love my sleep. But I certainly wouldn’t be averse to something other than sleeping.

Kiran takes a couple water bottles from the refrigerator for the two of us as I set my bag on the kitchen bar. Each of us sits on one of the couches in the living room and we make small talk about the morning. Then, uncomfortable silence.

I take a sip from my bottle and put the lid back on. “Well, I’d kind of like to lie down for a while, if that’s alright.”

“Of course. I want you to make yourself at home here.”

I stand up, and my blood races as I try to think of a smooth way to ask him to join me.

Nope. I got nothin’.

“I thought I would go spend some time with Dadi,” he adds.

“Oh!”
Crap.
I know there’s now disappointment on my face that I don’t want him to see. “Okay.”

“Unless... you don’t want me to.”

Geez! Why can’t I just come out with it? This is so painful! I stand here like an idiot, looking around the room, and shrug. “Um, I just thought you might like to come with me.”

He rises from his seat and walks over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Of course I would,” he says softly, “but I didn’t want to presume anything.”

***

After a highly enjoyable tryst, I rest my head in the crook of his arm. I’ve come to the determination that I am completely mad about this man, but I have no idea what this is between us. Is it a fling? Are we dating? At one time, Kiran told me he would like for us to be more than friends, but what does that mean? He’s been pretty closed-lipped since we ravaged each other last night, but then again, so have I.

“So...” I prop myself up on one elbow.

“So,” he echoes with a smile.

“So, I’m wondering what this thing is that we’ve got going on here.”

He props himself on his elbow, mirroring me. “That’s a very good question, one that I would like an answer to as well.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to start blathering about how crazy I am about him this early, but I do want him to know I really,
really
like him.

He places his hand on mine. “I don’t know how you feel. Sometimes I can’t read you that well.”

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be unreadable.” I lick my lips as my mouth goes dry. “I like you. A lot.”

“But...”

My forehead wrinkles as I shake my head. “No. There’s no but. I just like you. A lot!” I grin stupidly and my face heats up.

He traces his hand up my arm. “I have some pretty strong feelings for you, Anna, but I’ve been withholding them because I’m worried I’ll scare you away.”

I purse my lips and question him silently.

“I made you nervous in the beginning, remember?” he says with a slight smile. “Which is why I’m making every effort not to come on so strong.”

I’m dying to say,
I’m ready to hear about those strong feelings! Lay
’
em on me!
But it wouldn’t be fair for me to encourage him to spill when I’m so hesitant to tell him how I feel. “Now that I know you, I don’t think it’s possible for you to scare me away.”

“I’m glad. So for now, we can just leave things with really liking each other.”

I smile and nod. “I’m good with that.”

My cell phone vibrates on the night table beside me, but I don’t move to answer it. Ever since yesterday, I can no longer get excited, expecting that it’s one of the kids when it could be David.

“You don’t have to ignore that because of me,” Kiran says.

“It’s fine.”

He gives me a knowing look. “You’re not going to risk missing a message from Carly or Hayden for fear that it’s David, are you?”