Come business hours he’d called Ms Love to see if she made house calls, and she was happy to oblige. Soon after Simon had left that morning, Selene showed up at his door.
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ Jon greeted her and held open the door to invite her in.
‘I must say I was rather intrigued to get your call.’ She removed her bright orange coat, and was dressed in midnight blue beneath. ‘You have a jewel in a piece of furniture, you said?’
‘That’s right,’ Jon took her coat and hung it on the rack by the door.
‘I doubt very much it would be real,’ she warned. ‘Unless it belonged to an Emperor!’
‘Or a god,’ he agreed.
‘Indeed,’ she allowed with fascination. ‘Where is this mysterious piece?’
‘In my bedroom.’ Jon almost wanted to wince as he said this.
‘Fabulous.’ She grinned. ‘Upstairs?’
He nodded, and she moved off ahead of him and began the ascent.
‘Oh . . .’ she sighed, delighted, her eyes raised to the floor above.
‘What lovely lighting! I love lilac—’
‘Oh my God!’ Jon exclaimed when he saw it, and scaled the stairs to turn Selene around and guide her back down.
‘What is causing that effect?’ She was clearly put off. ‘What is wrong?’
‘You’re going to think me a frightful heel—’ His mind grappled for an excuse. ‘I’ve just remembered that I’m supposed to be at a meeting at the gallery in ten minutes.’
‘Oh dear,’ she was clearly disappointed.
He was going to ask her back this evening, but his experiences in the chair were unpredictable in length — he had to be sure he’d be back in time to meet her. ‘Any chance you could come back tomorrow morning?’
‘I will be charging extra for time wasted,’ she stipulated.
‘Absolutely fair, I’m so sorry.’ He grabbed her coat, helped her on with it and showed her back out the door.
‘Until tomorrow.’ She waved.
Jon smiled amicably and returned the gesture, then quickly closed the door. He looked back to the mauve light bouncing around on the white walls of his stairway, thrilled by the event. ‘She came back. The woman has guts, clearly.’
Upon entering the room he was bemused to find the chair empty — yet the crystal was active.
‘This is new.’ Jon considered that perhaps his beautiful ghost had already appeared and vanished.
He didn’t want to miss an episode, even though he hadn’t slept since the last one. He was running on sheer adrenaline and inspiration he supposed, and the latter had just about run dry. He knew there was at least one more past life to be explored, which the old woman suspected had taken place in India, when the Eyes of Karma had first been stolen.
It was then, ironically, that he heard the faint sound of chanting. Moving to the window to check outside, it became clear to Jon that the source of the music was the chair, which seemed to be daring him to come explore the ancient intrigues of Mother India.
* * *
At first Sara thought she was imagining the chanting as she dreamed of visiting India. The chanting grew louder, and Sara opened her eyes to find the crystal on her chair aglow, but her chair buddy was absent and she stood in a panic.
‘Where is he?’ Had something happened to him? Still half asleep, her concern drove her to a seat in the chair and when she collapsed into it, the chanting grew louder.
SOMNATH, INDIA
They were coming, an army of fierce warriors, seeking spoils and riches to adorn their own palaces.
Within their holy of holies, the statue of the great Mahadeva sat stripped of its priceless jewels. The temple was deserted; where were her priests and her Devadasi sisters — had they been slain or enslaved as spoils of war?
‘You have brought this on!’ her predecessor accused her. ‘He is your benefactor and can be nothing more! You are wed to Shiva!’
Darkness ensued, distant drums, sitar and chanting faded in and out.
‘She spurns me, does she? Well, I’ll steal her precious treasures right out from under her nose, and no one will be the wiser.’
I am wise, Vasudahara. She saw a vision of the governor of the district, along with one of his officials, escaping into a secret passage that only temple initiates knew about. It led underground to the outskirts of the city. She committed the insight to memory, allowed it to pass, and a new vision replaced it.
She was pressed close to him, the one soul who truly loved and supported her. ‘Treasure me, and this moment, with the dignified tenderness that I have only found in you.’ She kissed him as she had always longed to, with all the passion she felt in her soul.
The sweet moment was stolen away as the Eyes of Karma came into focus before her, and she recalled that her insight this day was forbidden — for she was consulting the oracle on her own behalf.
She gasped as reality came sharply into focus, distant music and singing sounded clearer now, but she felt giddy. Caught up by strong arms, she relaxed into them completely. It was Bhaskara, her patron, her love and her undoing.
‘What did you see, Akashvani? He begged to be enlightened.
She felt so exhausted she could barely speak. ‘I have seen the end.’
* * *
The day began as it always did for Devi Chanda, with being bathed at sunrise by her Devadasi sisters in the temple pool. This was a sacred and tranquil affair; her sisters tended their Akashvani with great reverence, a sweet song, and water scented with ten rajnigandha flowers, as was pleasing to Lord Shiva.
Knowledge of which flowers would attract each deity, whether they were for daily homage or sacred celebration, how many should be offered, how to prepare them and when to pick them, was one small part of being a daughter of the Devadasi. One must bathe before picking flowers for offering, and be barefoot, express gratitude, pick only as many flowers as required, and chant to the deity all the while. Only buds in full bloom were suitable, and they must not be picked after sundown, when the strength of the negative energies in the atmosphere increased and lessened the capacity of the flower to attract the desired deity. Sacrificial flowers must not touch the body, be smelled, or be handled with the left hand. Nor should holy flowers touch an unclean surface or be washed in water. To offer anything less than perfection would offend the deity and bring harm to the devotee instead of benevolence. Thus the temple’s daughters’ dedication to their duty was greatly appreciated by pilgrims and visitors to Somnath, as their work could mean the difference between prosperity and ruin. It was considered a great offence to the temple’s deity for visitors to touch or speak with any of the girls in the Lord’s service.
Chanda had been Devadasi herself not so long ago — a temple girl trained in the service of Somnath’s deity, the Lord Shiva.
In addition to taking care of the temple and performing rites, Chanda had trained in Bharatanatyam — classical Indian dance — as Lord Shiva in one aspect was considered God of this artform. A Devadasi satisfied her own soul as she danced, watched only by her God. But in order to become a Devadasi, to attract wealth and prestige, a girl needed also to learn Rajadasis — a modified form of dance more suited to the enchantment and entertainment of mortal men. The local Raj would invite the temple dancers to perform at court to increase their chances of attracting a benevolent patron to enter with them into a Pottukattu ceremony. In the Brahman tradition, marriage was the only religious initiation permissible to women, thus the Pottukattu ceremony was a symbolic marriage of the pubescent girl to the temple’s deity. Her patron — or failing patronage, a temple-appointed representative — acted as a stand-in bridegroom for the deity. From then onward the initiate was considered a woman eternally free from the adversity of widowhood, as her patron and temple would always take care of her.
Among the highest caste of society, the Devadasi were Brahman — of the holy orders and teachers — and thus were ranked more highly than the Kshatriya caste of rulers, nobles and w
arriors. Subsequent to this esteem, the temple dancers and singers were a greatly coveted commodity by royal and noble men. The patrons of the Devadasi enjoyed private displays of dance, song or musical skill, and hence they could glimpse the delight of the gods! These men usually had other wives to serve them as housewives and lovers; it was the vocation of a Devadasi to hone her skills to the glory of her patron and her God. Devadasi were free to have children to their earthly husbands if they chose, and their offspring were held in the same high esteem, as they were considered to be of the same caste as their esteemed mothers.
Chanda had danced her way into the heart of the younger son of the Raj Bhimdev — of the Solanki Rajputs — who had ruled the kingdom of Lata for the past twenty-five years and renamed it Gujarat. The Raj’s younger son, Bhaskara, was born of a union between himself and the previous Akashvani of Somnath, Devi Lochana, ‘goddess of the eye’. The Raj’s wife, the Rani Udaymati, had borne him a son, Karandev, only a few days prior to Bhaskara’s birth, and although Karandev was the legitimate heir to the kingdom, Bhaskara was of a higher caste and favoured by their father.
Thus it was that Bhaskara and the Raj paid homage often to Somnath — for they owed the Lord Shiva a great debt. For when Lochana had chosen to consummate her marriage with her patron, she’d lost her ability to read the Eyes of Karma, and Somnath was left without an Akashvani for fourteen years. Devi Lochana felt sure she had offended Lord Shiva with her union, but in his mercy he sent her a son so comely and good-natured that she called him Bhaskara, ‘shining light’, for clearly he was a blessing for her many years of service.
Chanda had wandered into the care of the temple at the age of four; no one knew whence she came, but she proved to have a natural aptitude for holy service. As a girl, Chanda took great pleasure in dance, she was in the moment with it and skinny like a reed — her movements flowed just as gracefully.
It was during her first performance for the Raj that Bhaskara noticed her; she had been ten years old at the time.
The Raj asked his son which dancer he would gift his patronage to, and Bhaskara had pointed to Chanda in the back row. ‘This one has the splendour of the gods upon her.’
Devi Lochana motioned Chanda forth to be introduced to their honoured guests, who complimented her grace and beauty, and gifted her new clothes. She had always worn hand-me-downs from the older girls, so the gesture was a great honour and joy.
‘Adornments for your next dance.’ Bhaskara, barely older than herself, had presented her with the reward and then bowed in respect to her talent; but, when he rose, he dared a whisper in her ear, ‘One day you shall dance for me alone.’
It took all her control not to gape at his gall, but his smile was as enchanting as the Devi Lochana, and she could do little but grin in return and thank him.
‘Where women are worshipped, there the gods dwell,’ the Raj recited an old Vedic saying to remind his son of his manners, before leaning aside to comment to their Devi, ‘He’s a little keen.’
‘I fear he shall not be her only admirer,’ Lochana warned and time had proven her right.
Four years later, as Chanda’s Pottukattu ceremony neared, there were several parties negotiating for her suit; but in such instances their bid was secondary to the bride’s wishes. There was also a new rite that took place before any suit could be finalised.
Since they had lost their Akashvani, all the initiates at Somnath had been led into the holy of holies where only the Devi and her priests were permitted, and there they were observed by Lochana as they gazed into the Eyes of Karma. Lochana was desperate to find a replacement, and when Chanda fell into trance, she foresaw her own future as Devi and Akashvani of Somnath and thus announced her own fate.
The discovery of her divine gift was met with much rejoicing by everyone in the district. By holy decree it was announced that the new Devi Chanda must remain a vestal, lest they risk losing their holy seer again.
All suits for her patronage were immediately withdrawn, save two.
The other man who vied for her suit was Vasudahara. His name meant ‘he who holds all the wealth’, which suited him well as he was the Vishayapathi of Somnath Patan district. He was much older than Bhaskara and had entered into a Pottukattu ceremony with several Devadasi already. They never spoke badly of him, but they never spoke well of him either. He was a lustful man, not particularly religious, but as he was Vishayapathi of Somnath Patan and paid bountiful homage to the temple, they were bound to welcome him. Vasudahara had never had to compete for a suit before; other men always stepped aside for him.
The young Bhaskara had no intention of stepping aside, however. He was of a higher caste, and at only fifteen years of age had managed in recent months to convince his father to make him the Rashtrapathi of all Sorath province, of which Somnath Patan was a district. So not only was Bhaskara of a higher caste than Vasudahara, but he was his political superior also. If Vasudahara had been a more respectful man he would have withdrawn from the running, as so many had done for him. But the Vishayapathi couldn’t resist the prestige of having the new holy seer beholden to him.
It didn’t matter how many offerings or gifts Vasudahara made her, in Chanda’s mind, heart and soul, it was no competition — she wed Bhaskara.
Six years had come and gone since then, and despite their feelings for one another, Chanda was still a vestal. Bhaskara could touch her, watch her dance, keep her company. Because of his vow before Shiva to respect her chastity and defend it, Bhaskara never attempted to breach that vow, not with word nor action. Inwardly Chandra longed for the union forbidden them, and it took all her will every time they were alone together not to succumb to her earthly desire. The people, her district and the kingdom’s rulers all relied on her advice, and the custom received for her consultation. She had trained in the art of love according to Kama Sutra, and she could pleasure her mortal husband to a certain extent and he her, and that had been enough at first. Now, their love play was more like torture — Bhaskara’s royal wife boasted that she was the only noble woman in the kingdom whose children would never have to compete with temple caste siblings. To spite his wife, the Raja was in Somnath more often than he was at home in his capital, and people were beginning to fear that it would only be a matter of time before Somnath lost another Akashvani.
Chanda’s thoughts drifted back to the present as her bathing ritual came to a close and her sisters left her alone, to clear her mind and inwardly consult with the god who was her spiritual husband.
The image of her Lord’s statue with his jewelled eyes gouged out made her weep — for her visions were never wrong. This event was coming, and the only hope she had of saving the holy treasures was to orchestrate the events surrounding their disappearance. If the stones were to leave Somnath, under no circumstance must the Eye of Wisdom and the Eyes of Karma be found together; they were too powerful for any one person to possess. Judging from another instance she’d seen during her vision, Chanda’s rejected suitor, Vasudahara, and his lackey, Damodara, could be of some aid in that regard.
At present she was one step ahead of her enemies; Arabs would take the sacred stones of Somnath and her Devadasi sisters over her dead body.
* * *
All the oracle’s appointments were postponed for another day — which she quietly regretted would never come — and although Devi Chanda allowed the temple to open to avoid panic, she knew she must seek to evacuate her sisters further east towards the capital of Anhilwara presently. Prophecy never gave a timeframe; only the different glimpses of the future Chanda saw within her trance and how long they took to come to pass would give any indication of how long she had to carry out her Lord’s wishes and her own.
After completing the morning ritual rites and beseeching Shiva for their deliverance, Devi Chanda returned to her private audience chamber and was met by Devi Lochana.
‘Bhaskara left with a large armed force this morning, do you know why?’
This was sorry news for Chanda; she m
ight have less time than she thought. ‘We must evacuate the Devadasi from the temple and send them to Anhilwara, where they may continue their service in the new temples the Raj is building in his capital.’
Lochana could not believe her ears. ‘We cannot abandon our service—’
‘Perhaps you would prefer our sisters were enslaved by Islam and our Lord’s treasures torn away to adorn their palaces?’
‘No. Lord Shiva will protect us,’ Lochana insisted.
‘Lord Shiva protects us through me, and is trying to protect you now.’
‘You have foreseen this?’ Lochana gasped at the suggestion. ‘You consulted the Eyes of Karma on your own behalf?’
‘If I had not, where would we be now?’ Chanda defended her offence. ‘My Lord has shown me his will—’
‘Don’t dare pretend you consulted the oracle on behalf of the greater good. This is about Bhaskara. Don’t think I don’t know that you long to find a replacement Akashvani, so you may be with him. Your earthly desire for my son has offended our Lord. You have brought this on!’ her predecessor accused her, just as Chanda had foreseen. ‘He is your benefactor, and can be nothing more!
You are wed to Shiva!’
‘Is it not your love for your son that brings you before me this day?’ Chanda was not the only one selfish in her desires. ‘You wish to know if he is in danger, if he is headed for battle, and the answer to both questions is yes.’
Lochana was clearly agonised by the news.
‘But he will not die in battle . . .’ Chanda informed her one-time superior to put her out of her misery, and the old Devi breathed a sigh of relief. ‘He will come back for me.’