Hey!
I had to do this story for a short story class i took last semester. I was inspired to create it after a trip to India. I thought i would post it for fun! Any feedback please let me know!
I had to do this story for a short story class i took last semester. I was inspired to create it after a trip to India. I thought i would post it for fun! Any feedback please let me know!
Holy Man
By: Jacqui Menard
Ryan
By: Jacqui Menard
Ryan
Ryan threw her tie dyed sari over her shoulder, tied a white shawl around her head and ran towards the ashram.
“Sister, be kind,” a beggar with mangled legs on a crutch called out.
“Aaah, I miss my damn guitar and I could really go for a fucking cigarette,” she thought as she maneuvered her way around him out into the morning rush.
“Chai madam, morning time very cold, try?” smiled a toothless lady in a woolen toque.
“Common, one cup no problem,” she said.
Dodging cow pies, mangy dogs’ and garbage hungry donkeys’, Ryan entered the gates tired and out of breath.
“Madam hurry, you’re late,” a pudgy official said waving her through to the woman’s side.
Annoyed, Ryan made her way towards the crowd of Indian clad westerners who were passing security on the way into the mandir.
Annoyed, Ryan made her way towards the crowd of Indian clad westerners who were passing security on the way into the mandir.
Sasha
Sasha’s room reeked of weed and exotic spices. She was staying in a four person room at the Shanti Guesthouse. Arriving yesterday, she could not help but to feel a sense of relief when she saw common showers, a western toilet and an array of food. She wasn’t too sure if she could withstand another day of not bathing, peeing into a shaky toilet bowl, yellow dhal on whole wheat roti, or the smell of body odor and garlic wafting through the air.
She arrived into Mysore on the Rajasthan Express forty eight hours after leaving Delhi. Getting off, she hailed a taxi to Hampi and checked into her room. The journey proved quite interesting, she survived but she doubted she would do it again. She was groped by her taxi driver, fondled by train passengers, stolen from while she slept and walked out onto the train station platform barefooted and exhausted because someone had stolen her running shoes.
Sasha’s room reeked of weed and exotic spices. She was staying in a four person room at the Shanti Guesthouse. Arriving yesterday, she could not help but to feel a sense of relief when she saw common showers, a western toilet and an array of food. She wasn’t too sure if she could withstand another day of not bathing, peeing into a shaky toilet bowl, yellow dhal on whole wheat roti, or the smell of body odor and garlic wafting through the air.
She arrived into Mysore on the Rajasthan Express forty eight hours after leaving Delhi. Getting off, she hailed a taxi to Hampi and checked into her room. The journey proved quite interesting, she survived but she doubted she would do it again. She was groped by her taxi driver, fondled by train passengers, stolen from while she slept and walked out onto the train station platform barefooted and exhausted because someone had stolen her running shoes.
Nate
Nate was an expatriate who had been sent to India for a year. He hated the country, he thought it stunk, it was filthy and the culture was barbaric. Since he arrived he had suffered two bouts of food poisoning, had his passport, camera and wallet stolen on the Taj Express, he was attacked by a pack of monkeys at a market in Bombay and his companies flat was broken into when he went to Kashmir. To Nate this was hell on earth, but if that’s what it took to be a foreign correspondent then he was willing to rough it out.
For his latest project, he was being sent to Hampi to do a feature on Guru Naghyda; a mysterious man who claims he can heal the sick and raise the dead simply through the human touch. To Nate, that was a bunch of crap. An atheist and totally against all things God, he was less then thrilled when his boss told him he would be there for one month.
Packing his bags for another trip, Nate ordered his servants Daneshwar and Sita to carry his belongings downstairs.
Nate was an expatriate who had been sent to India for a year. He hated the country, he thought it stunk, it was filthy and the culture was barbaric. Since he arrived he had suffered two bouts of food poisoning, had his passport, camera and wallet stolen on the Taj Express, he was attacked by a pack of monkeys at a market in Bombay and his companies flat was broken into when he went to Kashmir. To Nate this was hell on earth, but if that’s what it took to be a foreign correspondent then he was willing to rough it out.
For his latest project, he was being sent to Hampi to do a feature on Guru Naghyda; a mysterious man who claims he can heal the sick and raise the dead simply through the human touch. To Nate, that was a bunch of crap. An atheist and totally against all things God, he was less then thrilled when his boss told him he would be there for one month.
Packing his bags for another trip, Nate ordered his servants Daneshwar and Sita to carry his belongings downstairs.
“Sita, Denny, come here,” he said as his anxiously tried to zip his expanding suit cases closed.
“Yes sir,” said Daneshwar as he frantically rushed around the corner into his room.
“Den, take these down stairs, my cab will be here any minute,” Nate said as he looked down at his watch. “And where is Sita? Aaah Jesus Christ …do you two have any idea how behind I am right now? Take these down stairs and do not drop them, you understand?”
Daneshwar nodded as he began rolling the cases out into the hallway. Outside he met Sita was coming in with Nate’s laundry. Annoyed and frustrated, Daneshwar scolded her in Hindi demanding help the rest of the way.
***
***
Ryan
Ryan finished the last bit of her latest song on the back of an incense box she had found in her room. Hungry, she sat up from her desk, butted out her cigarette and left for breakfast. Outside, the sun was hot and it beat down hard. Fanning herself with her make shift paper fan, she began humming the chorus line to her new tune as she rummaged through her bag for her water. Cooling herself with a swig from her Evian, she began walking towards the ‘Mango Tree’ to eat. Along the way, she could not help but to smile as she watched barefooted children run along
side cows while their mothers followed behind them with baskets on there heads and babies on their hips.
Ryan finished the last bit of her latest song on the back of an incense box she had found in her room. Hungry, she sat up from her desk, butted out her cigarette and left for breakfast. Outside, the sun was hot and it beat down hard. Fanning herself with her make shift paper fan, she began humming the chorus line to her new tune as she rummaged through her bag for her water. Cooling herself with a swig from her Evian, she began walking towards the ‘Mango Tree’ to eat. Along the way, she could not help but to smile as she watched barefooted children run along
side cows while their mothers followed behind them with baskets on there heads and babies on their hips.
Sasha
Sasha was the only one in the restaurant; she took in the view from her table on the rocks as she waited for her meal. It was a magnificent morning and the sun had just spread its rays across the landscape. Fascinated, she watched as locals bathed amidst murky lake waters and women clad in rainbow saris squatted along the rocks beating the life out of their clothes.
“Okay madam,” said the bobble headed waiter bending down to serve her.
“Thank you,” said Sasha as she grabbed the tray smiling.
Pulling the spoon from the napkin, she began mashing the clumps of oats together in her bowl, before she was interrupted by an oddly familiar female voice.
“Wow, honey that is a gorgeous shawl, where did you get that?”
“Oh thank you,” said Sasha as she looked up from her bowl. “What a sec,” she said dropping her spoon. “I know you, your Ryan Adams; I have all of your records. You’re amazing. What are you doing in India?”
“Well,” said Ryan lifting her sari to sit. “I guess you can say I am trying to remember my spirit.”
Smiling, the two carried on over breakfast. Ryan told Sasha about her experiments with heroin, her run ins with the law and her less then perfect relationships with men. Sasha related her life story too. She told Ryan she
came to India in search of meaning and purpose. She said she felt like she had lost after her husband walked out on her and she turned to Johnny Walker and cheap scotch for answers.
Sasha was the only one in the restaurant; she took in the view from her table on the rocks as she waited for her meal. It was a magnificent morning and the sun had just spread its rays across the landscape. Fascinated, she watched as locals bathed amidst murky lake waters and women clad in rainbow saris squatted along the rocks beating the life out of their clothes.
“Okay madam,” said the bobble headed waiter bending down to serve her.
“Thank you,” said Sasha as she grabbed the tray smiling.
Pulling the spoon from the napkin, she began mashing the clumps of oats together in her bowl, before she was interrupted by an oddly familiar female voice.
“Wow, honey that is a gorgeous shawl, where did you get that?”
“Oh thank you,” said Sasha as she looked up from her bowl. “What a sec,” she said dropping her spoon. “I know you, your Ryan Adams; I have all of your records. You’re amazing. What are you doing in India?”
“Well,” said Ryan lifting her sari to sit. “I guess you can say I am trying to remember my spirit.”
Smiling, the two carried on over breakfast. Ryan told Sasha about her experiments with heroin, her run ins with the law and her less then perfect relationships with men. Sasha related her life story too. She told Ryan she
came to India in search of meaning and purpose. She said she felt like she had lost after her husband walked out on her and she turned to Johnny Walker and cheap scotch for answers.
Nate
“Okay Nate, you’re on in five” Pete the camera man said as he gave the count down.
“How can, one man raise the dead and heal the sick just by the mere human touch? No body knows, not even science can explain such happenings. People from all over the world people flock to Guru Naghyda’s ashram in Karnataka state, whether it’s to get a healing or just to catch a glimpse of this holy man often seen waving from his silver Jaguar SLX series,” said Nate as he leaned up against his companies car.
“And...cut,” said Pete as he lifted his hand in the air. “Great job Nate.”
“Christ Pete, I don’t know if I can take it much longer,” he said looking around. “This place is freaking me out and the people here…aaah let’s just hurry up and get the last few shots.”
“Yeah, sure thing man,” said Pete as he put down the camera and fumbled in his bag. “Okay, Nate now we…”he said as he looked up shocked to notice Nate was gone.
“How can, one man raise the dead and heal the sick just by the mere human touch? No body knows, not even science can explain such happenings. People from all over the world people flock to Guru Naghyda’s ashram in Karnataka state, whether it’s to get a healing or just to catch a glimpse of this holy man often seen waving from his silver Jaguar SLX series,” said Nate as he leaned up against his companies car.
“And...cut,” said Pete as he lifted his hand in the air. “Great job Nate.”
“Christ Pete, I don’t know if I can take it much longer,” he said looking around. “This place is freaking me out and the people here…aaah let’s just hurry up and get the last few shots.”
“Yeah, sure thing man,” said Pete as he put down the camera and fumbled in his bag. “Okay, Nate now we…”he said as he looked up shocked to notice Nate was gone.
Ryan, Sasha and Nate
Ryan and Sasha were nearly inside the ashram when they heard a whimpering from the alley behind the fruit stall.
“Hel…p,” cried the voice as they approached nearer.
Confused the two looked at one another and walked towards the sound. It took every ounce of effort for them not too look disgusted as they discovered a man on top of a garbage heap with twisted limbs and a bashed up face. Clearly in pain, he lifted his arms and let out an agonizing groan that echoed out into the village.
The patients’ line at the ashram was long and twisted. The stranger leaned lifeless against Ryan and Sasha moaning in pain.
“Hello, madam,” an official said tapping Ryan on the shoulder. “Very bad, come with me,” she said presenting
them with a wheel chair. “Naghyda will work his magic,” she said motioning her hands together, smiling big she winked as if expecting a hefty donation.
Nate was semi conscious; he was not too sure where he was. He was lying on a table as peculiar music floated around him.
“Don’t worry doll, your in good hands,” said a strange bald Caucasian lady.
Nate didn’t like this. Where am I? And was that Ryan Adams? He thought as he looked around and saw another Caucasian lady praying over him.
“Okay, Swami is here hun, Swami is here,” said the lady as she stepped aside.
Groggy, Nate tried to open his swollen eyes wide as a pasty white man with dreadlocks approached him.
Eerie chanting began to fill the air as Nate looked out from his table onto a crowd of millions. Italians, Greeks, North Americans, Chinese, people from all over held up their hands in the direction of Nate.
“Now we hold our brother in the light and say sickness be gone,” said the Guru as he paced up and down the stage.
Turning from the crowd he leaned over Nate and in a thick unrecognizable accent whispered,
“Okay bud, just play along, everything is going to be okay,” he said rubbing Nate down with a pasty brown concoction a female official handed him.
Winking, the Guru stood up and lifted both hands in the air out of Nate’s sight he faced the crowd. They roared with delight and awe as he slowly strolled up and down the stage grinning wide.
Scared, all Nate could do was laugh and cry uncontrollably as he looked out unto the ‘phenomenon’ unfolding before him.
Ryan and Sasha were nearly inside the ashram when they heard a whimpering from the alley behind the fruit stall.
“Hel…p,” cried the voice as they approached nearer.
Confused the two looked at one another and walked towards the sound. It took every ounce of effort for them not too look disgusted as they discovered a man on top of a garbage heap with twisted limbs and a bashed up face. Clearly in pain, he lifted his arms and let out an agonizing groan that echoed out into the village.
The patients’ line at the ashram was long and twisted. The stranger leaned lifeless against Ryan and Sasha moaning in pain.
“Hello, madam,” an official said tapping Ryan on the shoulder. “Very bad, come with me,” she said presenting
them with a wheel chair. “Naghyda will work his magic,” she said motioning her hands together, smiling big she winked as if expecting a hefty donation.
Nate was semi conscious; he was not too sure where he was. He was lying on a table as peculiar music floated around him.
“Don’t worry doll, your in good hands,” said a strange bald Caucasian lady.
Nate didn’t like this. Where am I? And was that Ryan Adams? He thought as he looked around and saw another Caucasian lady praying over him.
“Okay, Swami is here hun, Swami is here,” said the lady as she stepped aside.
Groggy, Nate tried to open his swollen eyes wide as a pasty white man with dreadlocks approached him.
Eerie chanting began to fill the air as Nate looked out from his table onto a crowd of millions. Italians, Greeks, North Americans, Chinese, people from all over held up their hands in the direction of Nate.
“Now we hold our brother in the light and say sickness be gone,” said the Guru as he paced up and down the stage.
Turning from the crowd he leaned over Nate and in a thick unrecognizable accent whispered,
“Okay bud, just play along, everything is going to be okay,” he said rubbing Nate down with a pasty brown concoction a female official handed him.
Winking, the Guru stood up and lifted both hands in the air out of Nate’s sight he faced the crowd. They roared with delight and awe as he slowly strolled up and down the stage grinning wide.
Scared, all Nate could do was laugh and cry uncontrollably as he looked out unto the ‘phenomenon’ unfolding before him.
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