The Rebellion of Yale Marratt (51 page)

 

 

Sundari nodded. "You can readily see how this idea could lead to a form
of worship based on sex. I think you and your Memsahib would find a
study of the Tantras valuable to your own sexual consummation and your
identification with the Universe."

 

 

"This is a difficult concept for Christians to understand," Anne
remembered Mat saying. "In the Christian world Divine Love is the Love
of God. It is somewhat surprising for people who have been brought
up in a tradition that still looks upon the sexual act as an animal
act. . . bestial, even dirty . . . to conceive of a sexual love in which
the man and woman are incarnations of the divine."

 

 

"This is the doctrine of the Tantric Maithuna. Imagine, Sahib," Sundari
had said, turning to Yale, "that you and your Menisahib are seated naked,
in the cross-legged yoga position. Your Memsahib then clasps your waist
with her thighs. She puts her arms about your neck."

 

 

"Good heavens!" Anne laughed. "A woman would have to be an acrobat."

 

 

Sundari smiled. "These things can be learned, Memsahib. This discussion
is only to illustrate a point. There are many ways of intercourse. You
try this with your Sahib. You will find the proximity of his member
to your yoni will result not in a penetration but an absorption. You
will be joined in the real sense of the word yoga which means 'to join'
. . . in this position of course no motion will be possible if you are to
remain joined. For hours you will stay together doing nothing to excite
the ultimate orgasm."

 

 

"Sounds nice." Anne had smiled at Yale, who grinned back at her.

 

 

"It is more than just nice," Sundari said sternly. "You and your Sahib
will find your individuality vanishing, your breathing will slow down,
your lives will come and go without grasping, without loss. Slowly, you
will obtain a psychic transference into the Self of the Universe. You will
find that your love has become divine. In your wonder and contemplation of
each other you will have surrendered your individual bodies to include
all the external world. Better still you will find that as you prolong
the final ecstasy, Sahib, that you and your lady will discover a blending
of your minds, coupled with a blinding wonder at the miracle of each
other . . . a wonder that you have never dreamed possible."

 

 

Mat leaned toward Anne and Yale. "Do you see what this can mean?" he had
demanded excitedly. "In this idea are the seeds of a religion based not
on an archaic idea of a male God ruling the world, but a religion based
on humanity finding itself and the Ultimate in each other."

 

 

Anne remembered she had said, "It is not really possible to put these
feelings into words. No matter how clinically you discuss it, it seems
to me that it must remain a very private experience."

 

 

Sundari had smiled. "No, Memsahib, I disagree with you. I believe we must
find a way to teach this feeling to all men and women and teach them how
to achieve it, if we are to preserve human beings from extinction."

 

 

Anne realized that while she had been reminiscing the wedding cermony
had arrived at the Panigrahana, or hand-taking. She felt Yale's fingers
entwine with hers. A thrill of delight and panic electrified her body.
Surya Gupta tied their wrists with a gold and silk cord while Sundari,
unsmiling, chanted endless religious verses to which the crowds of
villagers listened with rapt attention.

 

 

It really is a marriage, Anne thought, bewildered. I am really being
joined to Yale Marratt in this strange and ancient ceremony. Sundari
poured sacred water over their joined hands. Slowly, Yale led her in the
tradiditional Saptapadi. Seven times around the sacred fire, circling
the priestly group with tiny steps, Anne could feel Yale's wrist bound
to hers. She stared at the leaping flames, feeling a flood of desire
course through her body for Yale. He looked so wonderfully wholesome,
so serious, as he guided her, whispering softly, "I love you, Anne."

 

 

On the final trip around the sacred flames she suddenly recognized Colonel
Trafford watching them. A feeling of terror grasped at her heart. He was
standing just outside the tent with his adjutant, Captain Baker. A broad
smirk was on his face. He caught Anne's glance, and even at the distance
she knew that he understood her gasp and half-stifled "Oh, my God."

 

 

She felt Yale's fingers tighten on hers and saw his expression of
disgust as he recognized Trafford. This was it, she thought dully,
remembering Trafford's warnings. Now, he would do everything possible
to get one of them transferred. The feeling of panic that seized her,
the scream of dismay that was so close to her lips, made her forget for
a moment that the marriage ceremony was still continuing.

 

 

She heard Yale say, "Now that we have taken seven steps together; be
thou my companion. May I never part from thee nor thou from me. Let
us be united; let us always take counsel together with glad hearts and
mutual love. May we grow in strength and prosperity together. Now we are
one in mind, deed, and desires. Thou art Rik, I am Saman; I am the sky,
thou art the earth; I am the semen, thou art its bearer; I am the mind,
thou art speech. Follow me faithfully, that we may have wealth and
children together."

 

 

Numb with fear, she saw Sundari smile at them as he made a concluding
oblation in Sanskrit, and then said in English, "Let this union flower,
witnessed by the gods, and sanctified by the Vedic texts. Live together
a full life in good health."

 

 

Sunanda handed Yale the tali, Surya undid the cord that bound them.
Kneeling beside her, as he placed the necklace of flowers on her
shoulders, she heard him whisper, "Darling, Trafford can't hurt us.
Stop worrying this instant, you scared little goose." He dipped his
finger in the red oxide of lead powder that Surya had placed in front
of them. Anne bowed her head, and he rubbed it lightly into the centre
part in her hair. This was Sendurdan, the mark that the bride was his;
the symbolic taking of possession.

 

 

"You can't escape from me now." Yale grinned. "I am the master." Laughing,
Sundari tossed a fistful of saffron rice at them. The wedding ceremony
was over. Yale led Anne through the crowds of villagers who followed
them singing, throwing rice, waving torches, and forming a pathway to
their house.

 

 

"According to tradition," Yale said as he walked beside her, guiding
her through the crowds, "we sleep together three nights before we make
love. I told Sundari you couldn't stand that. He understands that you
are a hot baby, so he gave us a special dispensation."

 

 

"Yale Marratt, you're awful!" Anne said indignantly. "You didn't say that!
It's not true, anyway. Oh, Yale, how can you joke? Trafford saw the whole
thing. Oh, God, how did he ever find out about the wedding?" She held his
arm. He could feel her trembling. He recognized the near hysteria in her
voice. "Don't you see, Yale, we're sunk. He'll get one of us transferred,
and then it will be over."

 

 

"Stop it, Anne," Yale said, seeing Mat and Sundari approaching them.
"We are married. Even if the worst happens and we are separated, we are
married. You can't escape that."

 

 

Tears in her eyes, she tried to smile at Mat and Sundari who were
congratulating them. She watched the hundreds of villagers as they
gathered around them talking and chattering gleefully. Anne wondered where
Colonel Trafford had gone. What would he think of their marriage? Would he
be content to just go back to Talibazar . . . to forget this afternoon,
and permit Yale and her to have this small haven in a world gone mad?
Almost as the questions formed in her mind, she had her answer.

 

 

Trafford followed by Captain Baker pushed through the crowd. He pointed
the riding crop he always carried at Yale. "Well, if this isn't the
quaintest god-damned idea I ever heard of." His lips curled in a sneer.
"I'd like to know what in hell you think you are doing, Lieutenant Marratt,
and you, too, Captain Chilling. I can't understand a so-called 'man of God'
tolerating this travesty of a wedding. I presume that, in addition to
being an officer and gentleman, you are a Christian . . . and a citizen
of the United States. Being a senior officer I hold you as responsible
as Lieutenant Marratt for not reporting this incident."

 

 

"Captain Chilling has nothing to do with this, Trafford," Yale said,
before Mat could answer. "Since my wife and I are not on a U.S. Army
base, and we are not interfering with you or the conduct of the war,
I fail to see your concern. In fact it's none of your damned business."

 

 

"Your wife and you!" Trafford roared with laughter. "You call that wog
ceremony a marriage? You just try to have it stand up legal-like. The
judge advocate's office would just call it a polite way to cover up a
little whoring."

 

 

Noticing Yale's anger, Trafford stepped back as if to duck a possible
blow. "I wouldn't try to hit a superior officer, if I were you, Lieutenant.
If you just ain't mighty careful, I'm going to give you a direct order to
put your ass in the back seat of my jeep and we'll go back to the base
while I have Captain Baker study the regulations for a good juicy court
martial. Now, if I do that, it will be a damned shame. Anyone can see
that this little girl needs servicing on her wedding day. I just guess
she wouldn't mind if I broke the cherry for you." Trafford started to
laugh raucously. For the first time they smelled the odor of whiskey,
and realized that Trafford was quite drunk. "Get it." He jabbed Captain
Baker with his elbow. "In these tribal marriages the head man always gets
the first poke. Now," he said, and grabbed Anne's arm, "if I'm not the
head man, hereabouts, I'd like to know who in hell is? Huh?" he demanded,
shaking Anne, who looked at him terrified.

 

 

"Let go of her, you bastard." Yale's face was scarlet with his anger.
He twisted Trafford's arm.

 

 

"Get your hands off me, son," Trafford snarled at him, "or I'll trample
you to death, right here in front of your whore and wog friends."

 

 

Mat intervened. "Whether you realize it or not, Colonel, there are other
women here." He pointed in the direction of Mrs. Axonby and several of
the Red Cross girls who, with two pilot friends of Yale, had worked
their way through the crowd of natives. They were all listening to
Trafford. "Whether it bothers you or not," he said, playing on Trafford's
pride, "I would suggest that we are but a handful of Americans and one
British lady in the midst of all these Indians. It certainly doesn't
seem in the best taste to demean the rank you hold by engaging in a
knock-down fight."

 

 

Trafford clapped Mat on the back. "You're damned tooting right, preacher.
We'll just forget all this crap until tomorrow. Then we'll look at the
matter with a clearer vision. Such vision would say to me, Lieutenant
Marratt . . ." He smiled nastily at Yale . . . "that I've got to hand
it to you for arranging your life so handily . . . having yourself
a big wallah-wallah deal right here in old India where everyone else
has to subsist on dark meat. Very neat. Unfortunately, not conducive
to happiness when it gets known around the base. I think we will just
have to find us a new f. o." Trafford grinned. "I mean finance officer,
Lieutenant, and I'd be mighty careful with your temper unless you plan
to spend the rest of your life in Leavenworth."

 

 

Trafford turned his attention to Sundari who had been following the
conversation impassively. "Since this is supposed to be a wedding, I
think I should be invited to the celebration. What do you think, Sundari?"

 

 

"I am sure you are welcome to join the villagers. I must warn you,
they do not drink."

 

 

"It's all right," Trafford said agreeably. "I brought my own. Let's get my
jug, Captain, and wander around. There's some good-looking quiff around
here." He pointed at Sunanda Gupta who was standing near Anne. "Look at
that little brown baby."

 

 

They all watched Trafford and Baker walk toward their jeep.

 

 

"This man make trouble, no?" Surya Gupta said to Yale.

 

 

"I'm afraid so," Yale said. "I'm sorry to have inflicted him on your
village."

 

 

"Do not worry, Sahib. This is your wedding day. There is much feasting,
thanks to your generosity. I will be responsible for the Colonel's
good behavior."

 

 

"I wonder how he found out about the wedding." Helen Axonby put her arms
around Anne, feeling a deep sympathy for her. Anne seemed to have shrunken
into herself. The dismay and terror at the encounter with Trafford was
frozen on her face. "Come on, Anne," she said, leading her toward the
bungalow. "You've been a beautiful bride, and it was a lovely ceremony."

 

 

"Let her lie down awhile," she said to Yale. "I'll stay with her."

 

 

Mat told Yale that he and Sundari would not stay for the wedding feast.
"It's a shame about Trafford," Mat said unhappily. "I suppose it was
inevitable that he would hear about it. All the bearers gossip so much.
I do think the wisest thing would be to avoid him tonight. In fact, if
you could get your friends to leave early, it would leave Trafford and
Baker awkwardly alone." Mat pointed out to him that since it was their
wedding night the villagers would not expect that he and Anne would stay
at the party.

 

 

"I'm afraid it's already too late," Yale said. He nodded toward the
centre of the village. Mat noticed the tables set up for the wedding
feast. They both saw Trafford and Baker wave a bottle of liquor toward
Jane Belcher and Chris Powers. The girls were escorted by two pilots who
evidently thought it best to accede to Trafford's demands. Yale saw them
take a drink from the bottle. "I think I better talk with Surya Gupta,"
Yale said, worned.