Take absolutely no notice of any distractions caused by others.

When does aloneness end, and loneliness begin?

Sitting cross legged on the hard stone floor of the Mandir, for hours, her body felt stiff and torpid, aching too. A warm foot touched hers. The woman opened her eyes. In the suffocating darkness, behind closed windows and doors , she was unable to recognize the faces of the people around her at first. Then her eyes got used to the dim light of the temple and she found herself staring at the life-size panchala statue of an old fakir. The stern gaze of Shirdy Sai startled her. Her glance glided over the little ceramic statue of Ganesh, the elephant headed son of Siva, and then her eyes met with the friendly glare of her beloved Sathya Sai. After that, her eyelids closed, and she returned to her meditation. Noble silence was to be observed. Total silence of the body, speech and mind. But she was distracted today, her thoughts wandered. And suddenly she found herself walking out the Ganesh gait, and down Chitravaty road to the house that contained the small room they rented six month ago from a Moslem shopkeeper. He have let it to them to their surprise, in spite of the fact, that they were unmarried, and lived like animals, in his opinion. Two hundred rupees a day, seemed a little to much at first, but it was a good room. It had a bed in it. An elevated wooden plank, cowered with a sheet of patterned yellow- brown cloth. There was no net on the window. To protect themselves from the mosquitoes, they burned a green stinking coil all night long. Attached to the bedroom a small cement kitchen with unpainted walls prouded itself with a sink, that had a water facet installed. Still they had to fetch the water from yet an other room, even smaller then theirs, at the end of the hallway. In the fainting heat, they laid on the top of their wooden plank bed . They covered the window with the beautiful light green silken sari he bought her. Green is the color of hope, he said, and the color of the heart chakra, she added. Her upper arms enslaved in the stifling armlets of the pink choly were made an inch to tight. Her chest was surging breathlessly in the sweltering heat. The soft pale flesh of her abdomen exposed, between the bottom of the short choly, ending just under the breasts, and the waist line of the pink petticoat, there she was. She stood up, sweat running down her back, she turned in the direction of the man. He reached out toward her, put his left hand on her waist and with one single yank he untied the string bow on her petticoat. It fell to the floor, encircling her ankles. She stared at it for a while, delighting in the sight, and he started undoing the hooks in the front of her new cotton choly the Moslem made for her the day before. And when her soft little breasts spurted forth in all their delicious white roundness, he couldn't but bow his head in complete surrender. With closed eyes and parted lips he waited. Panting in excitement, he would become a suckling at her breasts. And then, when he would open his eyes, he wouldn't know, where his lovers body would end and his own begin. And he wouldn't be able to let go of the breast, because he wouldn't know how to, and even if he knew, he wouldn't want to, because he would have liked to merge with this woman for ever. And she would understand him, and she would caress his head, and call him her darling, her love, her Kamehsvara. And she would be his Kameshvari.

She plaited her hair after,in a single braid. It laid heavy in the middle of her back between her shoulder blades. "These were your wings, when you used to be an angel," he said, grasping her. He stuck his fingers under her scapula and she uttered a playful a little bit painful cry. He put on his pants and went out to fetch some water at the end of the hallway, from the green, moss covered shallow cement container. They sat for hours in the kitchen. They sat across from each other, on the plastic buckets they bought in the village for 20 rupees each. The cool water returned some life into their overheated flesh. It was siesta time. They should have slept now, but they kept looking at each other, examining every detail of the other's body, in complete enchantment, like they have never seen anything like that before. They kept talking to each other, to keep the connection constant. The sound of their voices, like electrical wires, snaked back and forth between them, binding them tighter and tighter to each other.

Then they finally poured the content of the buckets over themselves. They didn't dry up, just stretched out on the bed beside each other. Holding hands, sleep took them apart.

She felt quite devastated, when she first stayed alone. Then she heard about the Vipassana meditation, that was supposed to eliminate all the unhappiness by removing the three major causes of it - craving, aversion and ignorance. So, she came, and began the process of self-purification by introspection. Then she met Luigy. And everything started all over again. They rented a room together. But this time, it would be different, this time, she decided.

A desire arose inside her. It overwhelmed her. Now she couldn't wait for the last OM, to run out into the darkness of the dawn, to seek out his sun browned body warm with sleep, heavy with dreams, wet with desire. She ran through the narrow dark streets of the village . Her bare feet beating a rhythm on the black dirt road washed with sacred cow dung. It is not proper to run, not for a woman of my age, not in a silken sari, she thought.

Indian women married to poverty, swiped the floors of their little mud houses built without windows. Through the open door she peeked inside. She saw their many children dark and rugged, laying on the floor, alongside the aluminum pots and pans. A little fire place in the corner lit up the room, the smell of the burned cow dung stang her nose. An older woman crouched before the fire, making chapaties . Her nails short and dark against the white flesh of the breakfast, she flapped the dough from hand to hand, spreading it thinner and thinner. The old woman noticed her, as she stood there mesmerised.

" Madam," she stretched out her wrinkled arm.

She fled, slipped into the protective darkness of the corner of the old woman's tiny house. She looked back one more time. The old woman turned her back toward her, threw some more cow dung in the fire. The flames surged, up to the low ceiling. She saw the old woman's tin anklets on her wrinkled ankles. Then she left, taking with her the fire in her eyes. And the sky started blueing, it was the color of indigo. The coconut trees swang their tousled heads in the rhythm of the downing breeze. The milk women carried their stainless steel containers on their heads to the shops, to sell the morning milk. They were slim and graceful in their cheap cotton saris that enveloped their fragile little bodies. And she thought of Luigy's beautifully kept body, heavy with muscles, almost hairless, so fine, so soft, so good to embrace. Her nostrils filled with his scent . How much she loved it when his legs parted at the silent request of her hands, and she was allowed in between them, free to bury her face in that warm soft fluffy place, that emanated the most exiting aroma on the face of the earth. She walked slowly now. She didn't want to disturb the flow of the thoughts, so pleasant.

I will open the door very carefully, she decided, I won't make any noise at all. I will take off my sari, and I slip into the bed beside you. I will press myself to your side, lace your abdomen with my legs, garland your neck with my arms. I will seek you out to take you in, to loose myself, to find you. How nice it all sounded, she thought, how nice it all was.

The woman listened to Sade, in her room. She didn't go out for some days now. Not after he left. Not any more. "I gave you all the love I got, I gave you more than I can give, I gave you love," Sade sang." To much responsibility", he said." You have a child."

And she thought of the line in the information sheet she was given about the Vipassana meditation. It read - the meditation releases the tension developed in everyday life.

The sun stared to ascend slowly from behind the peaks of the grand Himalayas. The sound of the powerful Brahmamuhurta mantras still resonated in the air, when she put her hand silently on the door knob, while gently penetrating the keyhole with the big clunky stainless steal key, that would allow her the entrance into heaven. And there he sat, on the brown metal folding chair, just beside the door. He startled her. The packed green polyester travel bag on his lap, in his white cotton punjaby, holding his beautiful head heavy with blue-black curls in hands that David could envy. There he was, his wide shoulders trembling with sobs, like a little boy, he cried, "I am a sheep, baaaaa." Her first response was to console him, to alleviate his pain, to reassure him, that everything was fine, and he didn't have to worry, she would be fine, just fine, no problem, no problem at all, he shouldn't feel bad, it's OK, whatever choice he made, it's OK. And she caressed him and kissed his tearful face, and kissed his moist eyelids, and consoled his trembling lips with hers, and lifted up her sari in front, up to her waist, and showed herself to him, pulled him up from his chair, released the string on his punjaby pants, and they united there, in place, just beside the door, between the little coffee table and the chair, with the key still in her hand, she gave herself to him, to hold, and to have. Then he left. She sat down on the edge of the bed, let herself fall back, and there she stayed, like that, half sitting half laying, half alive half dead, for days. On the floor just beside the bed the brochure of the Vipassana Meditation Center laid open at the page where it read: Meditators must observe Noble Silence from the start of the curse until 10 am. on day 10. Noble Silence is silence of the body, speech and mind. Any form of communication, whether by physical gestures, written notes, sign language, ect, is prohibited. All contacts should be kept to minimum.

Complete segregation of the sexes must be observed within the Center.

But she didn't know about the presence of the booklet, or where it was open, or what it said. She wasn't aware of the hard bed either, nor was she conscious of the room, or her body itself. The only thing she saw was the fan above her head speeding around madly. Then she started throwing up, and she realized she was alive.