Sweat beaded down my cheeks and onto the wooden floor just in front of my mat.
Taking all that I had learned over the last 3 weeks, I had directed myself through a 90 minute hatha yoga flow. My body felt beautiful in a way that broke its focus on physicality. My muscles had melted away, and my bones aligned in the ways god or science intended. The mat below me, originally sky blue was now stained with dark hues like storm clouds.
Slowly, I brought myself back to my feet. I was light-headed and floating in the euphoria of having listened to only my body, folding and contorting in every which way she told me.
I made my way up the stairs of the ashram, using my terribly accented Hindi to greet the teachers and employees I saw on the way up to my room. On the way, I flung my damp mat over the balcony rail, and looked out into the distance for just a moment. In the distance I saw the freedom of two birds, dancing in the air in play and song.
I decided I’d treat myself to the same.
After a shower to rinse off the ballast I’d wrung out of me, I slathered my body in oil of amber, vanilla, and teakwood. A little concoction of smells I love that I’d made up to invite even more of the things I love. Like attracts like, no?
The oil creates a hydrophobic altercation all over my skin, and any of the steamy shower that remained slowly beaded off of me. I went to my wardrobe made up almost completely of baggy cotton garments, save for my classic black dress. It’s in my suitcase no matter where my destination, since it never fails to come in handy. Did I plan to go out dancing during my month of yoga study? No. Did I bring my black dress anyway? Yes, and I’m sure glad I did.
Not to cover its exterior in oil stains, I slid the dress up my body after carefully stepping each foot between the spaghetti straps. Parts of silk gripped at my skin as the dress that hugs every curve of me made its way up. I tucked my arms into the openings of the straps, and settled into the dress’s embrace.
My hair was still sopping wet, so I opted to take a Rapido—a scooter ride driven by an app-based driver—and figured my hair could blow up into its mess of curls and beloved frizz along the way. Just before my driver arrived, I slid my favorite red lipstick across my lips, and gave myself a cheeky smile in the window’s faint reflection.
Outside, I stepped over the craters that sprinkled over the dirt road and found the scooter with my driver waving to me. Gently, I placed one hand on his shoulder, and the other gripped at the hem of my dress. I tossed my leg over the back seat, and took what felt like a casual amount of distance between my lap and the behind of the stranger.
The ride was chaotic and lovely. The sun had set just an hour before, and the sky was a vibrant but deep indigo. My driver, whose name I later learned in the ride, seamlessly wove the two of us through the moon-like stretch of village road. Anil drove us slowly until we hit pavement, and he showed me the meaning of his name. Wind caught my wet tendrils of hair and brought them into the air straight behind me. Reflexively, my thighs tightened and I pressed my fingers a little harder onto his shoulders. I couldn’t help but smile as we sped through the stand-still of tuktuks and cars waiting for stoplights that we apparently didn’t have to.
The driving felt lawless, and I was delighted to be a blameless passenger. A thrilling hour passed, after which I was newly invigorated and with a fresh blowout. I handed him the 250 rupees, and when he asked for my number, I gave him a hug instead. My smile from the wind-filled ride lasted the whole trek up the paved but winding road.
Tapovan has a noise ordinance that’s begins at 10PM, so any parties are thrown in secret, with their locations being shared only last minute. A loose tease of the party’s whereabouts were shared along the grapevine, so I meandered my way towards it.
It was about 9:30, and the streets were still bustling with people. Night markets, restaurants, late night cafes, and street vendors surrounded me, all doused in that delectable sound of Hindi. With only a few words in my vocabulary, I just enjoy its syrupy sweetness as it slips off the tongues of those around me.
For a bit of modesty as well as my show of admiration for Indian dress, I wore a large scarf that draped across my chest and shoulders. Maybe a little part of me thought I would be more likely to pass in the crowd alongside everyone else. But of course a body quarter-filled with tattoos against fair, East Asian skin would do no such thing. I responded to stares with my palms met at heart center, and a smile.
I think to myself that I should be used to not looking like the people around me. I’ve yet to be in a situation where I have, but something about not having the language abilities to back it up still makes me a bit nervous.
With that said, it was quite a delight to hear a hello, how are you, slip from the lips of a tall mister gliding past me. I stood still a moment, and only tweaked the edge of my red lips. I’d yet to find the party I was headed to, so what was the harm in returning a hello?
By the time I made up my mind, he and his bright red button down were a ways up the winding street. I tightened my toes against the base of my silver sandals, and danced my way through the lively crowd. His height, his shiny curls, and his bright garb were easy enough to follow. Before long, I felt the shape of his right shoulder beneath my fingertips. He turned to me with a smile, and reacting to his voice I said, where are you from? His smile broadened more as his eyes placed me as the girl from minutes before. I smiled back, and we fell into conversation together.
Nearly an hour of conversation slipped into the velvety air behind us before we spoke about our plans before having met one another. He had intended on going for a short walk before going to bed, and I told him about the illusive party I had yet to find. We stood still along the side of the road, and gave one another the chance to go on with our nights as planned.
My eyes lingered on his, and he matched my gaze. His broad smile had smoothed into a sweet smirk of sorts, and his eyes remained soft.
Let’s go to the party together. Our faces mirrored each other’s in charmed accord.
Just then, someone shouted his name—which was that of a Disney prince, but for the sake of his anonymity, let’s call him—
Jinn!
Without a second’s thought, Jinn grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the man who called to him. He was just closing up his cafe for the evening, but by the sound of their reunion, they knew each other from once or twice before. Jinn’s friend soon became my own, as he invited us to sit on the rooftop of his cafe.
I could only imagine how lovely it must be during its open hours, but I couldn’t help but think the best time may be near-midnight. We had ascended 3 floors to reach a paved terrace where we bundled our shoes at the entrance. I stepped down onto the cool cement, and went right to the edge of the roof. Scattered building lights filled the nearby view, but past that, the lights diminished and left the delicate outlines of trees silhouetted against far off mountains.
It was so much quieter up here than in the street, and I felt his eyes on me. I turned with a smile like gratitude, doe eyed, and said
I love it up here.
Jinn’s friend rolled a blunt and let the smoke and his music fill the open space above us. The sticky, burnt aroma stayed just long enough to soak our conversation into a slow, thoughtful cadence. We eased into topics on love, life, beliefs, and more with the comfort of old friends and the curiosity of a strangers.
How lucky is this? Where we are right now? He said to me. I returned a smile with stars in my eyes and agreed.
But things like this happen to you a lot, don’t they? My eyes remained gleaming, and I didn’t correct him.
Me too, he said.
I think the people that trust in what’s to come experience luck all the time, I said to him.
The stars in my eyes flitted into his and mirrored the sparkled sky above.
It was Jinn’s friend who broke the silence and reminded me of the party I came out for, but it was the last thing on my mind. Like the birds from before, I was already up in the sky filled with song and play. I thanked them for the perfect evening, and said I needn’t anything more.
They both asked where I was going, and I said simply that I would just book the nearest hostel. They both chuckled a bit and stared at me incredulously. They told me the chances of me finding an available room so late on a Saturday were slim, but I reassured them of my luck in these things, and began to grab my things to go.
I thanked them both again, and hugged Jinn’s friend. A tight, congenial hug with a lingering and affable hand. Though I felt within me a craving for more time with Jinn, I knew it was hours past his ‘short walk’ he had in mind. I opened my arms to him, and he stood from his chair to reciprocate. I leaned into him fully, and against the cooling air of midnight, I let the warmth of him seep into me.
In almost a whisper he said, I’ll take you.
I lifted my head from his chest and studied his face. His soft eyes were now heavy-lidded but his smirk was as sweet as before. I agreed, and we both said goodbye to his friend.
The hot press of our bodies together planted a curiosity in the both of us, and as if to keep at least a bit of that captivating and tantalizing touch, he gestured to take my hand. He guided me down the narrow stairwells until we found our way back to the street. It was quiet now, with only a few vendors still selling food. While we meandered our way to an area with more hostels, he spotted a stand and asked me if I had had momos before. With only a slight shake of my head, he was off to stand in line for us.
I found a stoop for us to sit on, and he joined me there moments later. Steam rose from 6 perfectly shaped rounds of supple dough. He stabbed one with a toothpick, and blew on it before letting the savory scent hover just before my lips and nose. I opened my mouth, and let my lips slide around the slick ball before he pulled the toothpick from inside. It left the slightest hole for the juice of seasoned meat and veg to drip onto my tongue. He used the same toothpick to join in the sweltering dance of fresh momos on tastebuds.
After, we walked along the winding back alleys between buildings, and talked about our past loves. We took turns sharing what we valued most in our connections, sensuality being a recurring word. Suddenly I could feel the curiosity that his touch had placed grow in me. We stood facing one another, stopping in the middle of the empty street. I looked at his hand, and let the tips of my fingers meet his. My waist grew warm with the pull of his hand. Naturally, I tilted onto my tip-toes and felt my eye-lids grow heavy in hopes of letting my other senses take him in.
HONK HONK. A singular headlight from up the street flooded over us and our vision. A second later we were greeted with the profile of a black motorcycle, and a friendly face—Jinn’s friend from earlier. He offered us a ride to the bridge we were headed towards. With 1am quickly approaching, who were we to say no?
Jinn grabbed my hand, tenderly now, with only a lingering sense of the fervent desire that had boiled up between us moments before. He helped me onto the motorcycle, and slid in behind me.
It was common to see around here, three people to a bike, but it felt intoxicating. Like the wind from the ride before had blown up into a powerful gust. I still felt the tension of a first kiss lingering just behind me. For us to fit, he pressed against me, incredibly close.
I felt the shape of him and his heat pouring into me from behind, his thighs outlining mine. With the bumps ahead on the suddenly unpaved road, I couldn’t help but laugh and let the temptuous desire escape my body.
Several minutes later, the bridge was in sight, and lit in scarlet lights. We bid his friend farewell, with another thank you as sincere as the last. The sound of his bike dwindled as he drove further away with a wave. Jinn and I shared slight smiles below blushed cheeks, and continued together, side by side.
Wind hurdled off the river, insisting its power against the glass bridge. The Ganga flowed beneath us in a similar voracity, and it felt like Mother Nature coursing its power around me. Jinn turned what was meant to be a barrier into a break, and invited me into a closed portion of the foot bridge that brought us deeper into the swell.
I felt streaks of tears caress the edges of my eyes as the wind carried on. Another large gust took my balance, and I stepped back only a foot before his warmth returned to catch me, and my curiosity burned with it. I simmered in his touch and continued my gaze against the Ganga. His eyes on me like a dare to look back.
Instead, I suddenly grabbed his hand and led him across the bridge. An abrupt shyness had overcome me, probably to counteract the out-of-character lust I had just before our almost-first kiss. He gingerly followed my strides towards the other end of the bridge. His tenderness comforted me again.
Just up the road there were several buildings with lights on. All either late night bites, or the hostels I was looking for. I turned back to finally look in his eyes, and his settled right into mine. The grip of his hand tightened, and in the slightest tug he told me to wait.
