Vanishing Point: A Short Mexican Yoga Mystery (Kindle Single) by Daniel Pembrey

Author:Daniel Pembrey [Pembrey, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2016-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

10.

‘Welcome, Jennifer,’ Yogi Raja said.

His cabin was like a small house. There was a couch, a chair and a massage table. In a separate area, Jenny glimpsed a king-sized bed.

The cabin was dimly lit, the source of the low light unclear. Yogi Raja was sitting in lotus position, in the middle of an arrangement of white cushions and props that resembled a throne.

‘Um, thanks,’ she said, unsure what to do – how to be.

‘Please,’ he said, gesturing to the spot in front of him. A bare yoga mat lay there. ‘Sit.’

She did so, cross-legged.

‘Make yourself comfortable.’

That was hard.

‘You missed satsang.’

‘Yes, um, I arrived late. By the way, was Flo here earlier?’

‘Flo?’ he asked. His head tilted from side to side in the evaluative manner of an Indian yogi. It was hard to say what nationality he was. His accent was merely faintly foreign-sounding. Going by his voice alone, he could have been Syrian, Indian, Venezuelan or even Scandinavian. ‘Who is Flo?’

‘One of the other girls.’ Jenny regretted asking now. She could hardly explain: The girl you were having tantric sex with! ‘Never mind.’

His eyes were liquid clear. They induced calm, yet also a curious sense of self-consciousness – as though he was looking deeply into her, into her thoughts. His hair was very close-cropped and his olive skin exceedingly smooth – like a boy’s – yet he had the aura of an old man.

Jenny blinked, and added in a soft voice, ‘Sorry for coming late.’

At that moment, a pretty girl appeared, in standard yoga pants and sports top. She was a good few years younger than Jenny, perhaps still in her teens.

‘Your tea, Yogi Raja.’

He merely nodded, his eyes not leaving Jenny’s.

‘Will that be all, Yogi Raja?’ Her voice had a hopeful tone.

Jenny wondered if she would be offered a cup of tea too, but Yogi Raja merely nodded once. The girl set the tray down on the arm of his throne and, with reluctance, took her leave.

‘I am sensing difficulties in your life, Jennifer.’

‘Really?’ she said. ‘You can call me Jenny, by the way. If you want to, I mean. That’s what other people do, is all I’m trying to say—’

‘I am seeing challenges, which you are struggling to overcome.’

‘How?’ she blurted. ‘Why?’

He took a small sip of tea, and set the glass cup back on the tray.

‘Tell me about your partner.’

‘My husband, you mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, um . . . What about him?’

‘Is he the source of the pain?’

‘What pain?’ she asked.

‘That is what we are here to find out. To uncover – together.’

He rose from his lotus posture with extraordinary grace, using the fluid power of his legs alone, leaving the impression that he levitated.

Now he stood, towering over her.

‘I assume you are aware of maya?’

‘Um . . . meaning the locals? The Mexican tribe?’

‘The magic show, the illusion – whereby things appear to be present, when they are not, in reality.’

Ah yes, Sam had mentioned this Sanskrit notion at Yoga Yoga, she now recalled.

Yogi Raja’s hand was outstretched; his downward-facing palm hovered above her head.

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