A ripple of excitement swept through the gathering like wind denting a field of tall grass, and then a procession of dignitaries made their slow way through the seated to a raised section near a massive statue of the swami smiling benevolently, behind which was a large enshrouded container, its white linen covering stirring in the gentle breeze. Overhead a tapestry of stars glimmered as though in silent approval, and when drums began thrumming from the rear, the crowd murmured, the moment they had been anxiously awaiting all day finally at hand.
A column of men, with hair as long and untamed as their beards, marched with stern expressions toward the statue, and then the swami appeared, beaming at one and all, a hand raised in silent blessing as the adoring leaned toward him. At his side was a reed-thin man with a studious frown, his spectacles glittering in the torchlight, his head shaved and his beard elaborately braided.
When the procession stopped at the stage, the swami gazed around the area and then thrust his arms out to the side, signaling his openness to the universe’s powerful invisible energy field — the unified field of oneness, as he called it in the verses his group published with regularity, along with icons and images sold at the ashram and on the Internet.
The drumming increased in tempo and volume, the syncopated patterns interweaving as the musicians drove themselves to greater complexity, entranced by the rhythms they created without conscious thought. Two robed assistants were standing by the linen cover, and at Swami Baba Raja’s signal, pulled it aside with a theatrical flourish, revealing a huge iron cage. Inside, a white tiger lumbered from one end to the other with unsure steps, like a sailor on the pitching deck of a ship in a storm. The swami nodded at a pair of men immediately behind him and they removed his ceremonial robe, revealing a white long-sleeved tunic and matching pants cinched with a red silk sash.
The drumming stopped and the throng held its collective breath as the holy man approached the cage, where a young woman, her skin glowing with vitality, waited by a door with her eyes cast down. When he stopped in front of the opening, she slid a bolt to the side and pulled the gate open on oiled hinges.
The drumming resumed, this time with a frenzied enthusiasm that made the earlier pulsing pale, and the swami stepped into the cage and motioned for the woman to close the door behind him. She did so, and the swami waved his right hand in a broad circle as the tiger neared, seemingly entranced by the holy man’s gesture.
A gasp sounded when Swami Baba Raja moved to the animal in a crouch and threw his arms around its torso, raising it up on its hind legs as he wrestled the big cat, which seemed resigned — the manhandling had been a regular feature of its life since a cub, and the drugs in its system so blunted its ability to react that it was almost incapable of remaining upright unsupported. Cheers rose from the faithful when, after a few moments of struggle, the swami slammed the tiger onto the mat and lay on top of it, his arms again spread to the side.
The crowd roared approval at the demonstration of the swami’s prowess as he slowly rose and helped the tiger to its feet, his assistance the gesture of humility expected from one so evolved. The drums slowed their tempo as he climbed from the cage, and the assistants replaced the linen cover so the audience wouldn’t see the tiger instantly fall into a narcotic slumber.
The thin, spectacled man made a short speech filled with benedictions and expressions of wonder at the cosmos’s benevolence while the swami caught his breath and redonned his ceremonial robe. When the oration was finished, the thin man tilted his head at three figures at the back of the stage. The center one approached on bare feet, carrying a ceremonial award crafted from silver — a globe the size of a soccer ball with the swami’s countenance molded into an outline of India, mounted on a polished wooden base.
The swami sidled up to the thin man’s side and whispered in his ear. The man nodded and called out the name of one of the celebrities — a beloved actor who’d gained fame in a string of Bollywood action musicals about an honest cop who takes on the crooked establishment. A hush settled over the attendees as the actor stood and neared the dais, head bowed respectfully as the swami’s entourage gathered around.
Swami Baba Raja touched the actor’s forehead with an open palm and then moved his right hand in a series of tight circles before manifesting a stream of sacred ash, with which he anointed the thespian to amazed and delighted sighs from the attendees. The swami basked in the affirming energy and then spoke in a soft, musical voice as the thin man held out the award for the actor.
“You, who have brought so much joy to so many, are a fitting ambassador for the love that flows from the Ashram of Eternal Bliss. It is with humble thanks that I bestow upon you this award, and—” the swami paused as his hand lingered beneath the base of the award, as though supporting it, and a brief instant of annoyance creased his brow before his countenance settled back into its customary tranquility “—and I also want you to have this token of the universe’s appreciation!”
The swami raised his right hand, in which he clasped a gold chain, which he showed to the assembly by turning slowly with it outstretched, its links winking in the light. The actor’s expression was enraptured at the demonstration of manifestation of rare metal from the ether, and he accepted the chain with shaking hands and a blush that would have shamed a debutante.
“Oh, Swami, I am honored! You are indeed miraculous, and I bow to your grace,” the actor said, the lines a customary salutation following one of the swami’s famed manifestations.
The swami smiled and nodded as he presented the actor with his globe and then blotted his forehead with a hand towel, exhausted by the effort of acting as the conduit for the unified field’s unfathomable power. The actor bowed again, and the swami waited until the man had returned to his place in the crowd before moving slowly back down the aisle, manifesting yet more divine ash while passing through his flock and tossing it to their open hands. The drumming increased in intensity as the swami left the area, and then stopped abruptly when the procession of the holy had disappeared back into the main ashram residence.
A youth of no more than fifteen began chanting one of the swami’s devotional mantras, and the rest joined in, collectively spent from the exhibition of divinity they’d witnessed. The drummers rose and filed from the assembly, leaving the faithful to their bliss, which would continue into the early hours of the morning, praising Swami Baba Raja, their tiger-wrestling God in human form.
Chapter 5
Drake and Spencer stared up at the neon green sign hanging crookedly over the entrance of a building that would have been at home in a war zone. They exchanged a glance and Drake shrugged.
“Backpaker’s Hostel. Refreshing how they left out the c in packers. An auspicious omen,” Drake said.
“My kind of place. Probably won’t ask a lot of questions,” Spencer observed.
“I like hotels where the fleas have fleas.”