The Seven Steps to Closure (25 page)

‘There,’ he said waving his hand, ‘the Lotus Temple. I wait here for you.’

Matt handed him a note and told him to get himself a drink. Fat Fahad was happy with that and after helping me out of the tuk tuk, took himself off to the street vendors.

I stepped around to the other side of the tuk tuk and got my first view of the Lotus Temple.

‘My,’ I said.

‘Is that it?’ Matt asked.

‘Wow. Is that better?’

‘A little.’

After having driven through the built up suburbs of Delhi, the vast expanse of manicured lawn and trimmed hedges were impressive enough, but in the midst of them, opening like a giant white flower, was the Lotus Temple.

‘What sort of Temple is it?’ I asked Matt as I fumbled around in my bag for the
Lonely Planet
.

‘It’s a Baha’i Place of Worship,’ he informed me.

I was thinking he was pretty clever until I saw a sign just near the entrance gate to the garden that said, ‘Baha’i Place of Worship.’

I stood and admired the beauty of the giant flower before me, while Matt took photos of the Temple, the vendors and the crowds.

‘The Bahai philosophy revolves around universal peace and elimination of prejudice,’ I read as we began the walk down the long pathway to the Temple. ‘No speaking is allowed inside the temple,’ I advised him.

‘Has your caffeine hit worn off yet?’ he asked.

‘I think so why?’

‘I’m not taking you into a temple where speaking is not permissible unless it has.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I assured him.

We began to queue as we approached the temple and I realised everybody was taking off their shoes. ‘I’m not taking off my shoes,’ I whispered to Matt.

‘Why not?’

‘What if someone steals them?’

‘Look, you hand them to that lady and she gives you a number for them,’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘You’ll be fine. Trust me.’

I took off my trusty reef sandals and handed them to the lady who gave me a wooden token in return. Then we headed up the steps and into the Temple. I must admit I had expected there would be more to the interior. I mean the sweeping ceiling was certainly spectacular in its flowery form, but the temple was just a large room with heaps of fold out chairs. There were a sprinkling of people sitting in the chairs in silent contemplation. Of course as soon as we were inside the Temple, I had an urge to start talking. It was like an itch that I couldn’t scratch. I could feel the pressure building inside me, threatening to come out as a huge bellow. I looked at Matt who smiled at me smugly and held one finger up to his lips in the universal sign of silence. I had an urge to hold up a different finger, in a different way, for a very different universal sign. We shuffled slowly around the edge of the Temple until finally we were free. I let out a huge explosion of air and took a huge breath.

‘Did you breathe at all while you were in there?’ Matt asked. ‘You’ve gone all red.’

‘That was terrible,’ I exclaimed, ‘as soon as I couldn’t talk I had the hugest urge to start yabbering at you. And now of course I have no idea what was so important that I had to say.’

‘Guess that caffeine’s still working its way out of your system,’ Matt said chuckling. ‘Come on let’s get our shoes and visit the information centre.’

We headed back to the shoe storage area where I handed my little token to the lady. She promptly handed me a pair of shoes. The only problem was they weren’t my shoes.

‘Excuse me,’ I said trying to back up in the queue and get her attention. There were, however, an overwhelming large number of women all trying to get their shoes, and I found myself being jostled further and further from the front row.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Matt, coming over to see what was taking me so long.

‘Oh,’ I said, looking down at his feet, ‘that’d be right. You get the correct shoes, of course you do. Look what I got.’ I dropped the shoes to the ground and shoved the front half of my feet as far into the teeny golden sandals as they would go. ‘What do you think?’ I said as I tottered around.

Matt shook his head. ‘Unbelievable,’ he said. ‘Why do I get the feeling that these sorts of things always happen to you?’

‘Why do you think I didn’t want to hand my shoes over?’ I asked in response.

Matt laughed and held out his hand. ‘Hand em over,’ he said and waded back through the crowd of women to the shoe lady. I could see him gesturing and pointing at me and then he filled out what appeared to be a form before finally heading back.

‘Thanks,’ I said in relief, holding out my hand for my shoes.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said sheepishly as he deposited the gold sandals back in my hand.

‘Nhhooooooo.’

‘You’re not going to believe it,’ he said.

‘Oh yes I think I am,’ I said. ‘Let me guess. She gave them to a small Indian lady?’

‘She gave them to a small Indian lady. I filled out a form though. They said they’d post them to us if they turned up.’

I shut my eyes and started counting to ten. And then I remembered Mumbai. ‘Well I think we both know the chances of that happening are somewhere between zilch and impossible but it’s okay,’ I said as I reopened my eyes. ‘I’ll just have to get some more.’

‘I’ll get you a new pair,’ said Matt.

‘Why should you get me a new pair?’ I asked confused.

‘Cause I’m the one that told you to hand them over,’ he said.

‘But we didn’t have a choice,’ I argued.

‘I said to trust me.’

‘You’re serious aren’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Matt, I am not letting you buy me new shoes. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.’

‘Weeelll, at least let me buy you lunch.’

‘Fine. I never say no to someone buying me lunch,’ I conceded graciously.

We had been heading back to the information centre as we argued and were stopped at the door by a well-garbed security man.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, wobbling his head from side to side as he talked, ‘but I cannot be letting you in like that.’

‘Like what?’ I asked.

‘You be having no shoes on,’ he informed me.

‘Really?’ I asked sarcastically. ‘Well that would be because one of your fellow employees gave them away,’ I informed him.

‘Oh deary, deary me. That is indeed a shame,’ he said.

‘Yeah, big shame. Now, are you going to let us in or not?’

‘If it was up to me madam,’ he continued with the head waggling, ‘I would let you in. But unfortunately it is not.’

I looked around. There didn’t seem to be anyone else who was in charge here.

‘Well, who is it up to?’ I asked stupidly.

The man waggled his head a little and looked up to the heavens. I looked up as well, trying to find an office where the person in charge was working. I spun slowly around looking up for someone, somewhere, but it was a single storey building.

‘Tara,’ Matt whispered, ‘I think he means God.’

I started to giggle. ‘Are you talking about God?’ I asked him.

‘The one and only,’ he informed me gravely.

I backed away from him dragging Matt with me. ‘I’m confused,’ I whispered. ‘I thought the Indians had multiple Gods.’

‘Not the Baha’i,’ he whispered back. ‘They’re monotheistic.’

‘Meaning?’ I asked, feeling a little stupid.

‘They believe in one God.’

‘Oh.’ I thought about it for a moment. ‘So how do they differ from Christians or Muslims?’ I asked.

‘They believe that the major religions are part of a progressive revelation from God, and that all the major figures, like Buddha, Jesus and Mohammed are sent by God to guide the world’s spiritual development.’

‘Right,’ I said, dropping the gold sandals to the ground and shoving my toes into them. ‘Do you think God would be happy with this?’ I asked, turning back to the security guard.

He broke into a huge smile of relief. ‘Oh yes madam,’ he said, ‘God is very happy with that.’ And he opened the door for us.

I shuffled through in my dainty gold sandals with Matt following me, his face screwed up with his attempts not to laugh.

‘If you laugh,’ I warned him, ‘I’m going to get God to throw you out.’

I navigated to the first display and started to read about the Bahai beliefs. Matt finally regained control of himself and joined me there.

‘Hey, what’s with all the head waggling?’ I asked him.

‘It’s a cultural thing.’

‘It’s hypnotic. I felt like he was trying to exercise his mind powers on me through his head waggles.’

‘I think you might be onto something there. The head waggle could actually be a form of hypnosis.’

‘Did I bark like a dog?’

‘No, but you ran around clucking like a chicken.’

I laughed out loud earning a look of intense annoyance from some browsers nearby. ‘Oh,’ I whispered to Matt, ‘I didn’t realise we weren’t allowed to talk in here either.’

One of the browsers looked at me and catching my eye pointed to a no talking sign.

‘Oh for goodness sake,’ I said to Matt, earning me a look that could kill from the browser. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ I shuffled back down the stairs and out the door with as much dignity as I could muster.

‘Here,’ I said to the doorman, ‘I’d like you to have these.’ I kicked off the sandals which were beginning to rub. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a good use for them.’

‘Oh thanking you very muchly Maam. I have a daughter who will love these.’

‘Here,’ said Matt, pulling what appeared to be an Australian colouring-in book out of his backpack. ‘Maybe she’d like this as well.’

The man went as red as is possible for an Indian man, with very dark skin to go.

‘You are very kind,’ he said. ‘God bless you both and your marriage. May you have many, many children.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, and then we headed back out to Fahad.

‘We have got to get you some shoes,’ said Matt.

‘Will there be anywhere around here I can buy some.’

‘T i i,’ said Matt.

‘Pardon?’

‘T i i. This is India.’

‘Oh right,’ I said laughing, ‘Tii indeed.’

Fahad was extremely dismayed when I returned without my shoes. As he took us to a shoe shop he kept turning around to apologise, which – while very sweet, was also terrifying as we zoomed blind through the Delhi traffic.

He pulled up outside a small run down shop and insisted on haggling for the shoes on my behalf. There were so many pretty sandals I couldn’t make up my mind. In the end I bought five different pairs – at rock bottom price thanks to Fahad – and returned to the tuk tuk with my package.

‘I’ve unleashed a machine,’ Matt said, laughing as I ummed and ahhed over which ones to wear.

When I had finally settled on a pair Fahad took us to the Lodi Garden Restaurant for lunch.

‘I’m starved,’ I said to Matt as we sat down.

‘Let’s get thali.’ He  rubbed his hands together.

‘What’s thali?’

‘It’s a tasting plate of Indian food. You get a platter with three or four different dishes, curry puffs and chapatis.’

‘Yummy.’ I could feel saliva pooling.

It turned out thali was the Indian version of an “all you can eat” meal. I ate so much I considered undoing the top button of my pants, but I didn’t want Matt to think I was a fatty.

‘Fancy hanging around the pool this arvo?’ he asked when we had finished.

‘Sure. I can work on my non-existent tan,’ I said.

‘I’ll get some writing done, and then tonight we can hit the markets.’

I clapped my hands together enthusiastically and said, ‘Yeah more shopping.’

Although the Lodi gardens had been relaxing, I was happy to get back to the hotel. The heat, the noise, the smells and vibrant colours of Delhi created a huge sensory overload which was tiring. Plus I was sticky and hot and the thought of the pool water was extremely enticing.

‘I’m going to get some photos of the hotel so I’ll meet you down there,’ I heard Matt call through the bathroom door, where I was struggling to get my bikini top down my sweaty skin. Finally, I was ready and, grabbing my book, headed down to the pool area. I was delighted to find that I had it all to myself. Using my towel and sarong I bagged a couple of deck chairs before slipping into the water, gasping at the temperature change. I swam a few laps and floated for a while before deciding to read my book. It wasn’t long before the sun’s rays lulled me to sleep.

Water drops splashing across my skin woke me and I opened my eyes to see Matt towelling himself down. Sunlight glinted off his body showing the perfection of his muscles. I felt my stomach tighten into a knot as I watched him moving and flexing in the act of drying himself. As if he could feel my gaze, he stopped and turned till our eyes met. Flashes of memories from our night together danced before my eyes: him lifting me onto his lap and kissing me deeply, him working his way down my body with his tongue, him pinning me down with the weight of his body and slowly sliding inside me.

I could feel the heat in my face and every cell in my body was urging me to reach out to him. Only the thought of his rejection enabled me to restrain myself. I didn’t think I’d be able to bear the utter humiliation.

I smiled stiffly and said, ‘Get what you wanted?’

‘Not really,’ he answered and his eyes travelled – for a second – down my body. Did his voice sound a little husky? I’m sure my fevered brain was imagining it, trying to create a situation in which it could have what it wanted: Matt, inside me, again.

Shit, if I didn’t stop thinking about it I was certainly going to do something embarrassing. I hopped up and headed for the pool.

‘I’m hot,’ I said.

‘I know,’ he replied.

Whoa. Did he mean gorgeous, sexy, desirable hot or sweaty, sticky, uncomfortable hot?

I glanced at his eyes but they were dark and unreadable. After diving in, I swam the length of the pool under water, still feeling aroused and confused when I finally came up for air. A few laps later, my frustration had eased. When I finally felt I had myself under control, I headed back to my chair.

Matt was already asleep, my sarong bunched under his head as a pillow. I stopped to admire him lying there like a golden God. So perfect, so funny, so nice, so sexy, so desirable, so sweet – so out of my league. I sighed and, hopping into my chair, was finally able to release my sexual tension enough to slip back into sleep.