Page 80 of Tiger's Voyage

“Uh-huh.” I winced thinking about Durga’s encouragements to leap forward.

“The wordtamasis used for the third prong, which is the same prong as nonactivity.Tamasalso means ‘darkness, ignorance, or sin.’ Perhaps in this case, the nonactivity is worse than the inactivity.”

“Maybe it’s the difference between doing good, doing bad, and doing nothing.”

“Hmm … I could certainly see that view being applied. Another book I read indicates that the three prongs represent the three types of human suffering—physical, mental, and spiritual. Thetrishulais to remind us that Durga can help stop that suffering.”

I took careful notes while Mr. Kadam buried his head back in the book.

Later while I was getting dressed for the party, I thought about the symbols of the trident. Some people believed that making a mistake was better than doing nothing. Maybe Durga was trying to tell me that if I just didsomethingthen my pain would diminish. I could only hope so.

The idea of living without Ren was like a tight vise wrapping thick bands around my throat. I felt like I’d been dragged onto an emotional roller coaster against my will, and all I could do was suffer through it with my head between my knees and try not to throw up. Screaming “I want off” wouldn’t do any good. There was no getting off the ride at this point. I had to see it through to the end and hope the safety bar was secure enough.

I was supposed to meet Wes on the dock, so I hurried through my primping. Nilima had the Divine Scarf make me an outfit like one she saw in a magazine. I’d just finished straightening my hair when she brought it into the room. She was all dressed up.

“Are you going to the party too, Nilima?”

She patted her hair. “Oh, I thought I might stop by. I’ll see you there.”

As she left, I picked up the hanger. The champagne-and-black sleeveless dress was pretty. It was ruched at the empire waist and had a sheer outer layer decorated with beautiful black bead accents. Examining the beads more closely, I discovered they weren’t beads at all, but some kind of tightly woven shiny threads that looked like beads. Ren had been right about the Scarf making substitutions.

I slipped into the dress and strapped on a pair of black sandals I discovered in my closet. Wes was waiting for me on the dock. He whistled in happy appreciation and made a fuss about how nice I looked. I felt out of place because he wore a casual pair of board shorts and a white unbuttoned shirt that showed off his nicely tanned chest.

“Oh, I’m overdressed,” I muttered awkwardly. “Ren and Kishan are always wearing over-the-top fancy things and I didn’t realize this might be less formal. Just wait a sec and I’ll change.” I turned to head back to the boat.

Wes ran a couple of steps and blocked my path. “No way, darlin’. I plan on showin’ you off.”

I laughed as we began to walk. “It’s not like I’m wearing a French bikini. I doubt anyone’s going to pay attention.”

“There’s a big difference between crass and class, sweetheart. And you are 100 percent class. Any feller with any sense would see I got a gem on my arm.”

“You’re kinda sweet for a Texas cowboy.”

“And you’re gettin’ a nice tan for an Oregon gal.”

Wes entertained me with wild stories about his family, each one more unbelievable than the last. We walked toward the pulsing throb of loud party music.

The beach was full of people. There must have been at least a thousand party goers. Wes paid an entrance fee for both of us, and we headed into the throng toward a giant bonfire where people were dancing. The weather was cooler now because we were in the middle of the monsoon season, and the bonfire’s heat would be welcome as the evening temperature dropped.

Wes shouted, already moving his body to the beat, “Do you want to eat first? Or dance first?”

“Dance first.”

He grinned and pulled me along until he found a spot among the other weaving bodies. The pulsating rhythm of the Indian live band was impossible to resist. No one cared if they were good dancers or not. Everyone just moved happily, jumping, nodding, waving their arms, and clapping. It was a communal experience unlike dancing in America. The mood was jubilant as the crowd moved together as one.

The music almost made me feel like I was an Indian goddess sinuously moving my many limbs or a gypsy girl wearing a tinkling costume. I didn’t move to the music, the music moved me until I felt like I was a part of it. I was thrumming, pulsing, and alive. Wes was thoroughly enjoying himself too.

I didn’t compare the experience with my Valentine’s dance with Ren.Well … I almost didn’t.I slipped off my sandals and let my toes sink into the sand as Wes wrapped an arm around my waist and spun me dizzily around, effectively twirling away any negative thoughts.

After several songs, Wes said he was thirsty and hungry, so we went to the buffet tables under a canopy strung with paper lanterns. We picked up our plates and perused the choices. Wes promised he’d steer me clear of curry.

They offered roasted, buttered corn on the cob; fresh coconut; sliced tropical fruits; lamb kebabs; idli, which were savory steamed cakes dipped in chutney; cheese-filled dosas similar to crepes; daigi roast (sort of like spicy hot wings); and dabeli pao, which looked like miniature hamburgers, but the butter-toasted bun was filled with potatoes, onions, and spices and was served with tamarind chutney. Not exactly a cheeseburger, but they were good.

Wes got us tall glasses of water filled with fruit. It was extremely refreshing, and I finished one quickly and returned for another. A DJ took over when the live band quit. He incited the crowd to more frenzied dancing, and Wes was soon itching to get back out there. We passed a vendor selling roasted peanuts and another one selling ice cream.

“Come here. I want to show you something.”

Wes said something to the vendor in Hindi, and the man opened his cart so we could see inside. His little freezer was full of long cylinders of precut ice cream lying across the bottom like Yule log cakes. Each cylinder was a different flavor: tropical, tutti-frutti, chai, pistachio, fig, mango, coconut, ginger, saffron, orange, cardamom, jasmine, and rose.