Yogi Witch, page 20
‘This should buy us some time!’ said Gran, before she and my aunts began chanting a sacred mantra I had never heard before. Within minutes, a shield of sky-blue light surrounded us. When we were cocooned within the forcefield, Gran turned to me and said, ‘Whatever happens, do not move!’
We saw grappling hooks shoot up from below, clinging onto the parapet. The guards were trying to access the roof by climbing the walls. As they neared the top, Gran and my aunts began shooting balls of fire at the nylon cords they were using to climb, causing them to burn up. The guards screamed as they fell back down. But almost immediately, we heard loud thuds at the door to the roof. It was being forced open.
‘They shouldn’t be able to break it down easily,’ said Aunt Meg. But she spoke too soon, as the doors flew open just then. A horde of demonic beings rushed out, with a seething Damyanti behind them. Before any of us could react, they charged towards us, flinging Gran and my aunts in opposite directions.
I froze in fear—never before had demons been able to break through our forcefield. Then again, never were we attacked by so many simultaneously. I helplessly watched Gran and my aunts levitate mid-air, shooting beams of white light at the demons.
‘Get the boy!’ Damyanti screamed, and a couple of demons charged right at me.
‘No!’ cried Gran. She tried to fly towards me, but the demons grabbed her legs and flung her far away.
I cried in horror as the demons began beating Gran mercilessly. I wanted to run over to her, but Damyanti had me in a deathly grip. She swung me around and slapped me so hard that I fell to the ground. I screamed as Damyanti pressed her steel-edged stiletto heel deep into my palm. She laughed as the demons continued to attack my family mercilessly, rendering them powerless.
‘You’re weak, my boy!’ said a familiar voice. I looked up to see the dark hooded being before me. My great-grandfather! ‘My daughter and her daughters never did teach you how to defend yourself, did they!’
He cackled and I realized that he was only visible to me. ‘You can make it all go away,’ he said. ‘You can make it stop!’
‘How?’ I asked weakly, barely able to speak. My body trembled with a deep rage unlike anything I had ever experienced before as Damyanti dug her stiletto deeper into my palm.
‘Yes! That’s it!’ said the hooded being. ‘Let that anger build up. It’s what’s going to set you all free! Don’t stop it! It’s a part of you that’s been suppressed for so long. Build it up, Jai! Build it up!’
I could feel lava burn through my veins as my heart boiled with hellish fury. I could see my skin turn a reddish hue as the fires of Tartarus enflamed within me.
‘Burn, Jai! Burn!’ screamed the dark creature. ‘Don’t allow your weakness to suppress it! Don’t you love your family? Don’t you want them to be safe? Burn away, Jai! Burn more and more and more! Don’t be the pathetic little coward that’s been raised to suppress his rage! Let it explode! Let it escape! That magic has been trapped within you far too long! Let it out! It demands to be free!’
I began to scream as steam started to spout out from my pores. My tears had turned into fiery flames.
‘Let it out, Jai! Do not suppress it!’ the being screamed into my face. ‘Do not let your cowardice suppress your true self! Burn, Jai! Burn! BURN!’
The fire surged through my being like a hundred raging suns as I flung Damyanti away with a loud yell. As I stood up, the eye on my chest opened wide and began shooting a deep scarlet light from it. The pain was too much to bear, but I couldn’t stop it. I wailed louder and louder as the deep scarlet light blinded me. Before I knew it, I was levitating in the air. My voice climbed to octaves it had never explored as my body began spinning like a vortex, shooting the scarlet light in every direction with an uncontrolled intensity. But moments later, my body came crashing down.
As I got a hold of my senses, I let out a scream of horror. The bodies of my family lay on the ground before me. They were in flames. The hooded being levitated above, cackling with evil joy.
‘I told you that I’ll get you!’ he crowed. ‘I told you that you’d kill them all, just like you killed your mother! And you did kill them! Praise Lucifer!’
Then he charged at me.
All of a sudden I was surrounded by a blinding white light. Everything before me began to disappear. The white light covered every inch of my skin, causing my body to disappear before my very eyes. Soon, everything turned dark.
‘Wake up, Jai,’ I heard a voice call out gently. ‘Wake up!’
It took me every ounce of strength I had left to slowly open my eyes. The blinding white light slowly faded away to reveal a white-bearded face. Green eyes sparkled warmly as they gazed at me.
‘Welcome, Jai!’ said the white-bearded man with a smile. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Why does the Tower come between the Devil and the Star?’
I remember asking Aunt Claudine this as a child when she first began to teach me how to read the tarot. It was an afternoon in the library, and on the large apothecary coffee table we had laid out the major arcana of the Tarot in three rows of seven. The Fool card was on top by itself.
‘Well, remember what I told you about the Majors being symbolic of a journey?’ Aunt Claudine sipped her lavender tea.
I nodded and she continued, ‘Think of the Fool as the hero of the journey.’
‘Why would the Fool be a hero?’
‘That’s because a hero is often seen as a fool by the world,’ answered Aunt Claudine with a smile. ‘The world doesn’t like heroes until they prove themselves. Thus, in the first row, we have the Fool discover the magic of the world around him through the Magician. The High Priestess reminds him that there are mysteries far greater, which are still hidden. The Empress distracts him from the mysteries with the luxuries of the material world, while the Emperor reminds him of the obligations one has if one has to live in the material world. The Hierophant acts as his teacher, revealing all the laws of both the material and the spirit world. The Lovers is where the Fool has to choose whether he wants to revel in the material world, or discover the mysteries of the spirit world …’
‘And the Chariot is where the Fool sets off on his quest?’
‘Very good, Jai!’ Aunt Claudine exclaimed. She ruffled my hair and planted a kiss on my forehead before turning her attention back to the cards. ‘Now, the second row is an interesting one. Some decks place the Strength card after the Chariot; while others place Justice. I personally prefer placing Justice, because once the Fool is off on his heroic quest, he has to seek the karmas of his actions. Remember that he is a fool after all. His excited state leads to mistakes, and he faces the consequences of those mistakes through the card of Justice. After that, the Hermit reminds him of the importance of quiet reflection. This is important because until then the Fool has learned from external sources. Now he has to learn from the greatest teacher of all: his inner self, his soul. Only when he learns how to listen to his soul can he discover the laws of the divine spirit world with the Wheel of Fortune. Armed with what he’s learned, the Fool learns to build his Strength.’
Aunt Claudine held out a card and said, ‘See how this woman is taming a lion?’ I nodded as I looked at the card, which had a smiling woman petting a wild lion. ‘Notice,’ she continued. ‘She’s not using a whip like a lion tamer, nor is she wearing armour of any kind. Yet, she has the lion like a little kitten, purring with her touch. That’s true strength because she’s without fear. Ignorance has been wiped out through contemplative reflection that the Fool learns with the Hermit. Once his strength has built up, he learns to let go of all that doesn’t serve him with the Hanged Man. The Hanged Man smiles despite being hung upside down because there’s no greater joy than realizing that all you need to face the world is a strong heart filled with love. This is why Death follows, symbolizing the Fool’s transformation from a wanderer to a hero with purpose. Temperance follows Death to remind him to use his newfound skills and strengths to defeat the adversary. Do you remember who that is?’
‘The Devil!’ I replied, pretty proud of myself.
‘Indeed! The Devil is the sum of all our fears and ignorance. When the Fool faces the Devil and fights him, the Tower is destroyed. The Tower is either the Devil’s castle of false beliefs, or the Fool’s palace of shaky foundations—because in his excitement to be a hero, he forgets his lessons. Then we have the Star, who comes as a ray of hope. Creation is only possible with destruction. Nothing new can come while the old still exists. Everything that’s created must be destroyed, and everything that’s destroyed must give way for something new to emerge. If that didn’t happen, the world would just come to a standstill and life has no meaning. The Star reminds the Fool to keep hope alive. If the Devil defeats the Fool, then the Fool must maintain hope. He can always restart his journey and face the same Devil again.’
Aunt Claudine stopped when she saw me looking blank. ‘You remember how when you play Mario,’ she said. ‘Mario has to keep defeating Bowser at various stages. Right?’
I nodded.
‘Well, when Mario defeats a lesser beast in the early stages, he meets Toad, who tells him that the Princess is in another castle. This leads Mario to the next stage, where he fights and keeps defeating the monsters till eventually he makes his way to the final stage. There, he meets Bowser. Right?’
I happily nodded again as she was now speaking a language I understood.
‘Well, think of all those various stages as the Moon. Mario doesn’t know where he’s headed, but believes in the path that lays ahead. Each stage has greater monsters, and the obstacles on each new path get trickier and tricker. Mario reaches the final stage, where he fights Bowser, destroys him and eventually rescues Princess Peach. It can be compared to the Fool returning to the Devil and eventually defeating him, shattering the Tower. The Star gives him hope that even though the war isn’t over, he’s won a battle. This prepares him to fight again. When he finally finds Princess Peach, he celebrates that victory with the Sun.’
‘And what about Judgement?’ I asked, picking up the card showing an angel blowing a trumpet to lure the souls of the dead from their graves.
‘Ah, that’s where we count all the points Mario scored by killing the various monsters, as well as all the coins he collected along the way.’
‘So, good karma is kinda like the coins?’
Aunt Claudine’s eyes widened in delight. ‘Why child, you are positively uncanny!’ she exclaimed. Kissing me on the cheek, she continued, ‘So yeah, that’s basically a tally of all the good karma that the Fool—in our example, Mario—has accumulated over the various stages he conquered.’
‘And the World is his “happily ever after”?’
‘Yes, indeed it is, but it’s only temporary,’ replied Aunt Claudine.
‘Why is it temporary?’
‘Well, that’s because life is an unending journey. Unlike Mario, we have many more stages and worlds to conquer. In this lifetime, as well as other lifetimes in the future. Life moves on and thus we need to move along with it. There are many Devils to defeat and many Towers to shatter. But only when we succeed in doing so can we evolve further.’
Before I could ask her any further, a loud clanging sound echoed throughout my mind. The memory had been a dream, and now I was awake. As my eyes adjusted to the morning light, my soul started to ache again as visions of Gran and my aunts as burning corpses flashed before my eyes.
Six months had passed since I had arrived at Babaji’s secret ashram, which was hidden above a momo cafe in the chaotic ghetto of Majnu Ka Tila. It was officially known as New Aruna Nagar Colony, but those who lived there would refer to it as ‘Chungtown’ or ‘Samyeling’.
Legend has it that during the reign of Sikandar Lodhi, an Iranian mystic named Majnu met Guru Nanak—the first sacred teacher of the Sikhs—when he ferried the guru across the Yamuna river. Majnu became devoted to the guru, who was touched by his devotion and decided to stay and preach in that area. Majnu would ferry without charge those seeking the guru’s blessings. When the time came for him to leave, Guru Nanak blessed the space with his divine boons. Majnu remained faithful to him till his very last breath.
Later, Baghel Singh Dhaliwal built the famous Majnu Ka Tila gurudwara to commemorate the sacred spot. Towards the end of the eighteenth century, Guru Har Gobind—the sixth Sikh guru—stayed there as well, and it remains one of the oldest Sikh shrines in Delhi.
‘Hurry up!’ called Tempa, peeping into my dingy dormitory as the hallway light formed a halo around his shaved skull. ‘Babaji is about to begin the morning class!’
I sighed as I dragged myself out of bed and into the tiny bathroom. I turned on the tap, filling a blue plastic bucket with water that was never warmed. The shock of a cold bath in the Delhi winter was nothing compared to the pain I felt within.
After we stood in tadasana reciting the opening mantra, Babaji spoke.
‘Ekam …’
We raised our hands in urdvahastasna.
‘Dwei …’
We bent forwards to touch our foreheads to our knees in uttanasana.
‘Treni …’
We lifted our heads to flatten our backs so that it remained parallel to the floor.
‘Chatvardi …’
Pressing our hands on the floor, we kicked our legs up before floating into a stable chaturanga-dandasana.
‘Pancha …’
We uncurled our toes and raised our heads as we balanced our torsos on our palms and the nails of our toes in urdhva-mukha-svanasana.
‘Sho-dasha…’
We curled our spines and moved into our first adho-mukha-svanasasna, holding our downward dogs for five breaths.
Babaji was beloved amongst the Tibetan refugees that called Majnu Ka Tila a home. The Indian government had made our country a safe haven for those escaping from China’s occupation of their homeland. But I still hadn’t spoken much to him because I was filled with guilt and shame for what had transpired. In fact, guilt and shame did not begin to describe what I felt. After all, I killed the only family I had.
I stayed silent for my first week at the ashram. Finally, Babaji told me that he’d only speak to me once I snap out of my funk. As I hadn’t yet managed to do so despite six months passing, he still kept a silent distance from me, speaking to me only when he led the class.
The intense yoga classes were the only thing keeping me sane. Though this style of yoga was quite spartan, unlike Gran’s classes. With her, there would be new sequences daily, depending on the ability of the students as well as the mood and energy of the class. But Babaji’s classes would only have one set sequence: five rounds each of the two styles of surya namaskar, followed by a series of standing poses to build strength.
When Babaji noticed that my body was flexible and strong from all the years of practice, he placed me with the advanced students. We would perform an additional set of arm balances and complicated binds and splits. Beginners performed mostly forward bends to cleanse the system of toxins, while the intermediate level would focus on backbends and core-strengthening work.
There were many other differences between Gran’s classes and here. Gran and my aunts would often joke around in class, making the students laugh. This was to remind them not to take yoga too seriously and remember that the most important thing was to enjoy the journey. Babaji, however, was almost militant. No one could progress to a higher level until they had mastered all the poses of their respective series.
Gran would insist on people using props such as yoga blocks, straps and sometimes even chairs and balancing wheels. Here, the only prop allowed was the mat beneath our feet. The mats were thick jute mats that were locally produced—very different to the luxuriant Manduka mat I was used to practicing on. Instead of the colourful yoga gear worn by Gran’s students, the men in the ashram wore just a plain white dhoti, while the women wore a matching white kurta on top. Babaji, however, wore a colourful tunic as he walked around the class. The shala would be silent during class.
After the morning class, we’d have a simple breakfast of seasonal fruits, followed by whatever the staff at the momo café would prepare for us. After a quick bath, I’d report downstairs at the café, where I would work as a server. The customers were mostly locals from the neighbourhood, but during the lunch rush, there would be students from the north campus of Delhi University. They would stuff themselves with the various varieties of momos and thukpas, but the bill for a table of five rarely crossed a thousand rupees. No wonder the students loved coming here so much.
As Gran and my aunts had trained me to clean up after myself and do my own laundry, adjusting to ashram life didn’t really take time. I did miss my king-sized bed with its body-contouring mattress after a few weeks of sleeping on the small hard cot in my tiny room. But I still slept well after two intense yoga classes and a day of waiting tables at the café.
I’d constantly dream about my life with Gran and my aunts. Oh, how I longed to be hugged by Gran! I missed Aunt Meg rolling her eyes, and I would give anything to have Aunt Claudine ruffle my hair! The café’s milky masala chai could not compare to Aunt Meg’s freshly brewed herbal teas. The momos, though delicious, only made me miss home, which always smelled of fresh baking.
Every time I remembered Vir’s betrayal or Damyanti’s taunts, my blood would boil. Despite the yoga, I’d wake up sore and stiff from the guilt and shame. Maybe I needed this spartan existence. Perhaps this was part of my punishment for falling so blindly in love. Was it even love? I didn’t have the strength to examine what Vir and I had had.
Some nights, I’d wake the entire street with my howling. Those were the nights I was plagued by the visions of the burning corpses. I’d be put straight back to bed by other ashram residents after being made to sip turmeric milk. However, I would be too scared to sleep again. I’d just stare up at the dark ceiling, which was stained by years of seepage that gave my room a mouldy stench. I guess I deserved sleepless nights. I deserved far worse!
