Excerpt from Persephone in India

AGRA: Catching My Eyes

The rickshaw driver was Arjuna in a fire chariot.  My eyes driving us to my next life.  My husband, as kind as he tried to be these last hours of our life, felt coarse.  I was bypassing his thoughts at the speed of light.  My body was light I might have ignited from his touch.  I was rushing and so, the driver seemed very slow.  I knew this as I watched him, perched on his seat, eyes blazing a path between the lorries.

I am trying to deliver you quickly.  I was exquisite looking at that moment.

I felt a tour van pass me.  A Western lady wrapped in a white and gold-threaded cloth.  Her mouth opened slightly, she could not take her eyes off me.  She reached for her camera, but I disappeared.  She had fulfilled my destiny and I, hers.

I had appeared for one moment and there I would stay for the rest of her 53 years.  I knew her well.  I knew she would give birth to me many times.  I knew how her hand felt.  I knew the sad curve of her eyes.  She could not photograph me this time.  She had to remember.

I knew this would last longer.  I knew she was sent by my Mother.  I knew she was going to meet me soon.

I knew the Indo-Asia Van was taking her to the Taj.

M. Kruszewska©2000