“Sleep on it?” Mummy choked at the other end of the line. He had hardly expected such a response.
“Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be given the opportunity to undergo the alteration, instead of being sent home like the rest of the aging clerks for whom the organization doesn’t see fit to invest in a treatment by my artist’s hands? “You don’t turn down an offer like this, Maya. In fact it’s not an offer, it’s an order. You have no choice in the matter, is that clear? I expect to see you at my clinic Friday evening at 7. The address and other details will be sent to your email later today."
The receiver was slammed down at the other end, and Maya, upset but determined, had trouble regaining her equilibrium. Gasping for breath, she felt as if there were a steamroller on her chest, threatening to crush her. Maya was exhausted. She lay her head, adorned with delicate touches of silver, on her desk, and tried to forget the surreal monologue with Pandora and the horrifying dialogue with Mummy.
Princess Maya had forgotten that she was a golden princess.
Chapter 6
White Night
________________
Maya absolutely refused to undergo reconstruction at the hands of Mummy. This to Pandora was intolerable and unforgivable, an act of rebellion not only against her own authority, but against the whole Javon ideology. Inevitably, She was thrown out of the company with no retirement benefits or rights.
She tried to find a similar position with other companies, but again and again encountered rejection and raised eyebrows: “At the moment we aren’t looking, but we’ll keep your CV in case there’s an opening for you.”
Her meager savings were soon used up. If she didn’t find work as a secretary within a few days, she would have to vacate the tiny apartment she had lived in for as long as she could remember, and she would be out on the street.
With no other alternative, She finally settled for cleaning work – anything not to go through the mutilating plastic renovation.
She was hired by a maintenance company, but to her dismay discovered she had fallen out of the frying pan into the fire: the company sent her to work at none other than the Javon corporation, where she had worked as a secretary. She dropped right into the web of Kerberos. Again she found herself serving Pandora, this time in an even lower status than before.
Pandora did not save the rod, or the pleasure she derived from abusing Maya, who had once been the object of her envy because of her angelic beauty and special skills. She ran her ragged from dawn to dusk with busywork. More than once Maya was summoned to Pandora’s office from the most distant department of the organization, just to light a cigarette for her and Puppy, Pandora’s young male secretary.
The two of them would sit, their feet on the desk, blowing smoke rings into the face of the choking Maya, and giving her one order after the other: “Maya, coffee! Maya, laundry! Maya, lunch! Maya!”
And if that weren’t enough, Pandora did not hesitate to make use of Maya to write letters that required intuition, sensitivity and fresh marketing ideas. Much to her frustration, she found herself doing most of the secretarial work she had done in the past, but with many more overtime hours that now included vacuuming, emptying the trash, and washing dishes and floors. In other words, she was burdened with more work, longer hours and much poorer working conditions (she barely earned minimum wage) than before.
She would often grit her teeth in humiliation, but she took care to perform all the work she was assigned thoroughly and seriously. She swore to herself that if she, by some miracle, were ever to be responsible for a team of workers, particularly downtrodden workers, she would never, ever abuse them as she was being abused.
The years passed with cruel slowness. As Maya grew older, her work hours grew ever longer. She was working six days a week, sometimes seven, from seven in the morning until 11 at night, leaving her no free time. Her visits to the emerald waterfall became less frequent. When she reached her austere room, which she shared with six other cleaning workers from the corporation, she barely had the strength to shower before collapsing on her bench and falling asleep at once.
Every night, under cover of darkness, a flock of colorful, semi-transparent butterflies would arrive, floating over her in spirals and scattering over her exhausted body transparent golden powder that charged her with energy for the next day.
Within the framework of her new job as cleaner-secretary, Maya moved from department to department. While dusting the furniture or collecting the dirty dishes, she would open her eyes and ears. She was shocked to discover the crimes being committed within the law and with its protection against the workers in general, against consumers, and against the environment. She found out, for example, about the cruel murder of seals in the northern ice sea: for its flagship cream for “aging skin”, Javon needed a certain kind of fat found in high concentrations in the internal organs of the unfortunate creatures.
In order to hide this activity from consumers, particularly from various green movements, Javon used a clever deception: it sponsored publicity campaigns for whale-protection programs, providing the company with well-publicized media exposure. The seal fat, however, was actually no more than a marketing gimmick: no sustainable benefit had ever been scientifically proven for the cream. Quite the contrary: using the cream, which was full of coarse starchy elements, created the illusion of improvement in the facial skin, whereas in fact the effect disappeared a day after applying it.
One night as she was dusting the desk of the vice president for financial affairs, she discovered that the company’s accountants were working day and night to perform plastic surgery on the company accounts, so that the figures would look more attractive to investors. She uncovered the corruption spread throughout management with regard to the securities authority and the stock exchange, which involved releasing and leaking false data, as well as the fat benefits the managers granted themselves with a stroke of the keyboard.
One cloudy day Shw discovered that the senior managers had crossed even their own red line: they had arranged for themselves far-reaching benefits at the expense of the most basic conditions of the lowest-paid workers at Javon – particularly the “foreign” workers employed by maintenance companies like the one she worked for. The unavoidable result was a significant cut in wages and elementary working conditions – for the sake of what they termed “efficiency.”
Maya, who had not lost her ability to express herself with eloquence, was able to overcome her shyness for the sake of the cause. She mobilized the power and skill of leadership that had remained dormant within her, got the workers to sign a petition, organized an uprising and approached the media in an effort to create public awareness of the issue.
The attempted rebellion quickly failed, as Kerberos sent a team of security guards to put it down using merciless violence against the peaceful demonstrations. And the media, which were in fact controlled by the cosmetics corporation, kept the affair out of the public eye by giving center stage to the “hot news” about the new wardrobes of the president’s wife and mother-in-law, and presenting a revolutionary new diet.
Beaten and wounded, Maya was ejected from Javon with nothing, and with nowhere to live. She was now homeless, living from alms, moldy pizzas, leftovers from hamburgers and whatever else she could find in trash cans.
Despite the passage of years, Maya still remembered the waterfall and the emerald ceremony, and decided that her “place of residence” would be on the lower end of the main street, beside the colorful fountain there. She tried to ignore the pitying glances and the reproachful remarks of passersby, and found comfort in the emerald ring, the silk belt around her waist (which, miraculously and despite the years that had passed, never wore out and never got dirty), and the fountain, which was a substitute for the waterfall in the park. She revived her sacred emerald ceremony.
Thus year followed year, and wiped away her memory of the distant days of her golden youth.
Princess Maya had forgotten
she was a princess.
Chapter 7
Remembering
__________________
" …My life is nothing but a dream.
From which I will wake into death,
which is nothing but a dream of life…."
from Queen of Dreams, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
Maya became an old woman dressed in rags, bent, wrinkled, eccentric, and dependent on the kindness of passersby.
On the one hand, she grew accustomed to her condition. But on the other, with the help of her few possessions – her silk belt and her emerald ring – every day, especially at dusk when she performed the emerald ceremony beside the fountain, Maya felt that deep within, protected from all harm, resided the real Maya: beautiful, young, radiant, and noble.
One winter night a gang of drunk, drugged, bored street youths passed her. “Hades” the leader wanted the ring on her finger and signaled his “soldiers” to take action. They approached Maya, mocking her. Hades demanded that she give him the ring, saying that a dried-up old beggar like her had no need of it.
She ignored the gang and entered into her inner world. This angered Hades. He and his companions attacked her viciously, knocking her to the frozen ground of the square as they shouted abuse at her. Her silence infuriated them even more, and they began stepping on her with their heavy spiked shoes.
Hades lowered his head to Maya’s agonized face, a murderous look in his eyes. “Give me the ring, stinking old hag, or we’ll take it off along with your finger!”
Despite the intense pain, she continued to ignore him.
Hades slapped her hard, then slammed his fist into her face.
* * * *
At this point Prince Karma’s heart was softened and he understood that the time had come to open the gate back home for Maya.
"Maya, with your right hand touch the silk belt around your waist.” A caressing voice echoed in her head, as if from a distance. She was unable to remember where she had heard that voice. With a supreme effort she touched her hand to the belt.
“Now, put your left hand to your mouth – quickly, Maya – and breathe in seven breaths. Good. Hurry, they’re approaching again. Now say to yourself three times: I am Maya. Maya is me. All is Maya."
As a horrifying shattering sound was heard, Maya, wrapped in a robe of healing light, did as he said and closed her eyes in tranquillity.
* * * *
Princess Maya rubbed her eyes in amazement. She awakened to the sound of humming on a morning of gold in her golden room in the Kingdom of the Gold Coast.
"That couldn’t have been just a dream", Maya whispered to herself. "It was so real, and lasted for so many years."
She looked at her golden watch: the date was still 11.11.11, but the time was exactly 11.11.11. The princess, who excelled at complicated mathematical calculations (she was a member of the research team on pragmatic mathematics at the most exclusive university in the kingdom), knew immediately how to calculate the time that had elapsed since the moment she opened the package containing the fateful crystal ball: exactly one hour, one minute and one second!
"I couldn’t just have fallen back asleep," murmured Princess Maya to herself, and looked around her. The fine coffee and the almond butter pastry had grown cold, and at her feet was the crystal ball, shattered into smithereens. She took a deep sniff of the fresh rose on her chest of drawers. Turning toward the window through which it was her practice to welcome the golden rays of the morning sun, she noticed that on the peach-blossom-colored silk curtain there rested a beautiful colorful butterfly.
Princess Maya smiled a broad smile. She stretched with enjoyment and noticed another golden package at the foot of her bed. She leaned over and began to open the package, inside which were concealed more packages. She patiently removed all the wrappings until she reached a small package wrapped in peach-blossom-colored silk.
“Just like the curtain at my window and the robe in the dream,” cried the princess, and hurried to open it.
“Of course,” she said with a smile, “I should have known...”
To the emerald ring a note was attached with a gold thread: "Beloved princess, you’ve done it! Welcome back. The time has come to meet. Put the ring on your left thumb and press it to the door at your left...”
Maya looked to the left, surprised to discover the heavy mahogany door. “Exactly like in Pandora’s room,” she said, confused. “How is it that I never noticed this door before? after all, I’m known for my ability to notice the smallest details even at a great distance.”
That arrogance again... she said to herself with gentle forgiveness, and continued with modesty: dear Maya, there are many things you haven’t noticed until today!
“Maya,” the note said, and it seemed that the writer had anticipated her thoughts, “everything will soon become clear. Blow on the ring seven times... and say aloud three times...” She completed the sentence from memory. She had no need of the note to remind her of those lines.
“And now,” she read, when the door opened, as if by magic, to reveal a long, winding tunnel, “go through the door and enter the tunnel – I’ll be waiting for you at the other end.” The note was signed by – Prince Karma!
“Of course,” she smiled. “At last I will find out who this mysterious Prince Karma is.”
She strode forward and entered the dim tunnel. At the same moment the butterfly landed on her right shoulder.
“Little golem,” she murmured fondly, “he doesn’t know he is really a prince.”
At the far end of the tunnel she could make out an illuminated figure, shining with a precious light.
“Prince Karma,” she said, full of curious anticipation, and progressed toward the light.
The rest of the story of Princess Maya is recounted in the second book: Princess Maya Meets Prince Karma.
#######
Thank you for reading my book!
About the Author
Read my interview with Kipp Poe
A writer and a biographical coach and consultant. Princess Maya & the Crystal Ball is the first in a trilogy. The second book Princess Maya Meets Prince Karma will come out soon.
My first book, Identifying The Hidden Thread, a Biographical Journey, was published in Israel (in Hebrew) in 2009. This book is a guide to drawing a life map based on Biographical work principles.
I had worked as a secretary for many years
I am the initiator of various workshops such as Identifying the Hidden Thread and Biographical Experience. Have taught in various colleges in Israel as well as the University of Haifa.
I have worked for several years with the prisoners and staff of a prison in the south of Israel and have moderated a workshop on dreams for families who were victims of terrorist activities.
I am 53 years old, the mother of an adult son, and I live in Ramat Gan in Israel.
Connect with me online
My website: https://www.saradagan.com
My blog: https://saradagan.blogspot.com/
My facebook profile: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1478648021
Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/profile/edit?trk=h-gnav-name-link-0
Coaching and consultation sessions can be held via Skype. For further info please contact me by email:
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Thanks in Advance!
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