35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

76
EMPIRE OF THE SOUL
into the ashram, he tottered across the road, down into a ditch full of
long grass and brambles. Hidden in this jungle was a gate leading
through a low fence into more jungle. He flung aside branches that
lashed back against my face. The air thronged with things that
droned, buzzed, flew, and, as I quickly found, stung quite efficiently,
as well. I defended myself from another flogging by the coin-hard
leaves as best I could, and was tearing a cobweb the size of a Chinese
fishing net off my head when the old man pointed at the door of a
low white concrete building. A padlock of medieval dimensions
hung from the door’s bolt. He rummaged in his loincloth, as if
giving his balls a good scratch, and produced a sizeable key to prod
at the lock until it finally clicked open. Almost throwing himself at
the two sections of door, the old priest burst through them, flicking
on a light switch. The tiny bulb throbbed its feeble light over quite
a nice little room: two spartan beds, a table and a door concealing
what was presumably the bathroom. The old man handed me the
massive padlock and its key and headed back into the night, grunting
and hissing to himself.
I bolted the door, looking forward to a wash. My hair felt like the
brittle synthetic material you stuff sofas with, and my skin had
developed the texture of a much-used blackboard. The little door
led indeed to a small room equipped with a tap, bucket, and wellworn
squatter. I opened the tap, which dripped for several seconds,
then shuddered mightily, spewing out a torrent of orange mud before
settling back to dripping. Light ebbed and flowed from another
jaundiced little bulb, creating an unnerving impression of incipient
eye trouble or brain failure. Disappointed, I sat watching the tap
drip. Without any warning, a stream of crystal-clear water suddenly
shot out with the force of a fire hose, soaking the room and me. I
hurriedly stripped, washing with soap and bucket. Just as I’d lathered
myself from hair to toes, the pitiful electrical current died. I was
plunged into a darkness so complete I could only see atoms and
molecules dancing. Remembering that there had been no windows,
only a sort of recess near the rear ceiling, I stopped waiting for my
eyes to adjust, continuing my bath as a blind man.
Washed and very weary, I groped my way back and lay down on
sheets that felt like hot sacks. Within seconds, something winged