Cartwheels in a Sari Read Online Free PDF

was in the front or on the stage during functions. This was the very first time that I observed the disciples without being a part of them: row upon row of men and women seated on opposite sides, all facing one direction—toward Guru. They seemed prepared to sit lotus style in muddy puddles forever or until Guru said to stop. I suddenly felt inspired to move; I didn't want to sit in the mud. I sprang up like a can of soda after a violent shaking, then I crouched back down. Ketan covered his mouth to mask his giggles. I did it again and again. I too started to laugh. I was air bound, wild and untethered. I spun around and around, propelling myself in circles with my arms as oars, giggling, until my head rocked with dizziness, and then I stopped, steadying my feet.
    Suddenly, I worried that I might have missed something. Guru might have called for me, and I was not there. I looked over the sea of sopping folded hands, eyes flickering withdevoted bliss, for Guru, the grounding factor, the constant temperature gauge of my behavior, of my status. His reassuring smile, his wave of the hand, his affirmation that I was a good girl, echoed from his lips to my parents’ ears, and to the disciples, which composed the totality of my world. But that night, when I caught sight of him in his chair, he was in profile, as my father stood motionless soaked from the downpour, with his long white pants and shirt plastered to his skin, holding an umbrella to keep Guru perfectly dry. The silhouette of Guru's head was suddenly transformed into the terrifying bust in my backyard that haunted me at night. I saw the same effigy that pretended to be benign, accepting flowers and folded hands, but then in absolute secrecy snaked its tentacles around me, muffling my movements, my thoughts, my breath. I rubbed my eyes, blaming the rain, but as I focused a second time, Guru's blanket, which covered his entire body up to his neck, revealed the same bodiless head that disappeared into a base in my backyard. I shivered, imagining the arms sprouting, then slithering their way to me and me alone. A minute later, Guru stood up, waved, then left.
    That night I could not sleep at all. I was confused by what I had seen, and I was still terrified of the Guru doppelgänger, only yards away, plotting to get me. If I were a really good disciple, I would never have seen Guru as anything other than the Supreme. How could I imagine Guru—my beloved Guru, the same one who brought my soul to earth—as a serpentine monster?
    My punishment came the next day. There was no stopping karma. And it went right for what I loved the most—my beloved Munu, my hard-won fluffy bunny.
    Ketan discovered it first; a pack of wild dogs had torn through the wire on Munu's outdoor cage and mangled her black-and-white body, leaving a scattering of fur and blood across the backyard. By the time I was informed, my father had already left for meditation in Queens, leaving my mom to bury what she had scraped off the grass of our beloved bunny and comfort us. It was a rare night for us to be home, but this night was full of grief, as my loss was inconsolable. She was no ordinary rabbit—she was Guru's disciple, and she had a spiritual name. I shrieked and wailed, crying until my nightgown was damp with tears and snot. I climbed into bed, and for the first time in my life, I didn't say my prayers or even look at my shrine. If Guru controlled everything, which I knew he did, why didn't he prevent Munu's death? I pulled my blanket over my head, creating a tent to prevent my sobs from escaping. Suddenly, I understood. I was much worse than the doubters who sat before Guru but didn't believe in his occult powers. Because, according to Guru and karmic law, all wrong actions had to be punished; therefore I, the Golden Child, had killed my bunny. I was bad and evil. Guru knew it. He also knew that I dreaded his double that lived in my backyard, scheming to capture me each and every night. He knew it,