Chandra shrugs.

"Physics says every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

Karma is kind of the same, isn't it?

Good actions result in rewards, sooner or later.

If you cause suffering, instead, something bad will return to you.

As for G.o.d, the fact that atoms are inside everything tells me G.o.d is within us all.

I see His cosmic dance of creation as the spinning of electrons within every atom.

Science is G.o.d enough for me."

But not for me.

I think of the last time I was at this temple with Paati, her silver head bent in prayer, so empowered by her faith.

The image of her, so sure, so firm in her belief, gives me comfort.

And though I'm not sure what G.o.d means to me or if He hears me, I pray as hard as I can for Paati's safe return home.

SEEING.

SHIVA.

Home from the hospital, Paati can no longer pray sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of our household altar.

I offer to bring the other deities to our bedside table where my Shiva dances.

Paati shakes her head.

So instead, I fetch the bottle of oil.

As I ma.s.sage her, Paati says, "Objects of prayer used to help me focus my mind.

I don't need them anymore.

Shiva dances everywhere.

In everyone. In everything."

DANCE.

YOGA.

In cla.s.s with Govinda, I fall almost at once.

He pulls me to my feet, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. "Something's wrong."

"My grandma had a heart attack.

She's home now, but I'm so scared-" My voice breaks.

He strokes my back. "I'm glad she's better now."

His voice is a soothing balm.

I add, "Akka says I'm clearly showing my pain, but not the peace Gautami found after accepting her loss.

I don't feel peaceful, Govinda.

I can't show what I don't know."

Govinda stands erect.

Starts moving slower than I thought possible.

Watching his body flow from one pose to the next, moving in concert with the rise and fall of his chest, is as calming as watching clouds drift across a blue sky.

"Dance is a form of yoga. Natya yoga," he says.

"Marry your movement with your breath.

Rest your palms on mine." He extends his hands toward me, his palms beneath mine, offering gentle support.

I discover it isn't easy to dance so slowly.

If anything, it's harder than going fast.

When I go slow, every asymmetry is magnified.

"Veda? Don't worry about how you look.

About anything."

Breath for deep breath, I match Govinda.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

We breathe as one.

Our paired breath is the only sound in the room.

"Some of us meditate through movement," Govinda says.

"Meditation isn't about pushing your body, it's about respecting it, the way you'd respect every other s.p.a.ce within which G.o.d dwells."

My breath doesn't race like it used to when I danced fast and furious.

There's no rush of blood to my head.

No gush of excitement in my chest.

Dancing slowly makes a new feeling of joy enter my body.

A joy that seems longer lasting than the bubbles of delight that rose within me when I danced in the past.

As I relax, I sense how tightly I'd reeled in my chest, holding myself as tensely as a warrior queen, charging into battle, weighted down by armor.

I feel Govinda peeling my armor away.

INVITED.

After dance rehearsal, Radhika invites me to her birthday party.

"I live next door to Govinda.

He'll be there," she says.

A pang of jealousy p.r.i.c.ks me like a needle but she adds, as if to rea.s.sure me, "He's like my brother.

We've been neighbors since we were three."

I feel relieved, until she says, "I've never seen him so crazy about any other girl."

He was crazy about other girls? Who? I can't help feeling another jab of envy.

"Party?" Pa rolls the word in his mouth when I ask permission to go. "Party? Girls only?"

"Only a few boys. From the dance cla.s.s. Please?"

I don't remember begging for anything else.

Ma tells Pa, "It's during the day.

At a girl's home. Her parents will be there.

And that nice boy, Govinda, whom we met.

Of course she should go."

Forced to agree with Ma, Pa says yes.

I thank him.

And fling my arms around Ma.

TOAD.

in a

LOTUS LAKE.