Maya's Aura: Goa to Nepal Read online

  MAYA'S AURA

  Goa to Nepal

  (Book Four in the Series)

  By Skye Smith

  Copyright (C) 2012 Skye Smith

  All rights reserved including all rights of authorship.

  Cover Illustration is a part of "The Moon" by Alphonse Mucha (1902)

  Quotes from Mahatma Gandhi

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Revision 0 . . . . ISBN: 978-0-9881314-4-6

  Cover Flap

  NOTE: This is novel four of the “Maya's Aura” series.

  In this naughty novel of magic and mayhem, our young Maya is on the run and following a quest. Her healing hands have a side effect of creating fatal heart attacks in predator men. Unfortunately her youthful good looks attracts them like tigers to a lamb. Because the police want to question her about heart attack coincidences, she has fled the USA.

  She must find out more about her powers, and since all answers seem to be in India, she and Marique to buy cheap tickets to Mumbai. Between Marique’s quest for sun and beaches, and Maya’s quest for gurus with knowledge of auras, their trip turns into a series of exotic adventures. Their road trip across India leads them to the beaches of Goa, holy Dharamsala, along the spectacular gorges of Nepal, and to the far side of the Himalayas.

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  MAYA'S AURA - Goa to Nepal by Skye Smith

  About The Author

  Skye Smith is my pen name. My family convinced me not to use my real name because my stories are so critical of predator males. You'll understand and forgive me this as you fall in love with sweet Maya, my main character.

  For those of you who like stories about vampires, witches, and magic, you won’t be disappointed by my very different, more realistic take on it all. My vampires are parasites wearing business suits. My witches are healers ignored by the modern world. My magic is based on aura’s, and everyone has felt or seen an aura at least once in their lives.

  The novels so far in the "Maya's Aura" series are:

  1. “The Awakening" …… - published - She discovers her strange aura.

  2. "The Refining" ………. - published - She learns how to use her aura.

  3. “The Ashram” ……….. - published - She searches for answers in India

  4. “Goa to Nepal” ………. - published - She follows a quest into the Himalayas

  5. “The Charred Coven” ... - published - She fights black craft in England.

  6. “The Crystal Witch” …. - published - She learns psychic craft in England

  7. “The Redemptioner” … - published - Psychic dreams of her ancestor Britta.

  8. “Destroy the Tea Party” - published - Britta’s adventures in Boston in 1773.

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  MAYA'S AURA - Goa to Nepal by Skye Smith

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Cover Flap

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - By Train to Goa

  Chapter 2 - Getting to Algibaga Beach

  Chapter 3 - The Turtle Beach, Goa

  Chapter 4 - Paradise, Goa

  Chapter 5 - Anjuna Beach, Goa

  Chapter 6 - The Barn of Tears, Goa

  Chapter 7 - Panaji, Goa

  Chapter 8 - Paradise, Goa

  Chapter 9 - Fleeing North

  Chapter 10 - Geeks Bearing Gifts

  Chapter 11 - Really Fleeing North

  Chapter 12 - Fatehpur Sikri, India

  Chapter 13 - Dharamsala, India

  Chapter 14 - The Eternal Flame

  Chapter 15 - Dharamsala, India

  Chapter 16 - The High Cave

  Chapter 17 - The Nepal Border

  Chapter 18 - The Wedding Elephant

  Chapter 19 - The Kaligandaki Gorge, Nepal

  Chapter 20 - Kaagbeni, Mustang, Nepal

  Chapter 21 - Pokhara Lakeside, Nepal

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  MAYA'S AURA - Goa to Nepal by Skye Smith

  Chapter 1 - By Train to Goa

  It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence. - Mahatma Gandhi.

  Her friend Marique had warned Maya that the things you liked about India, you loved, and the things you disliked, you hated. This train from Pune to Goa was quickly moving over to the hate side. It had started well, as far as the farewell on the station platform and all the help they had getting aboard, and the goodbye's waved from the open door because the windows on air con carriages did not open.

  It started to go all wrong when Maya and Marique had to share their compartment with a Sikh family. The man was a sergeant in the army and being sent south. His wife and two children were with him. They had swapped their lower bunks for the sergeant’s upper bunks so that the family and their children, and all of their belongings could spread out on the compartment floor. There was not an inch of floor showing.

  There wasn't much headroom in the upper bunks, but there was a light and Maya spent the early evening reading about Gandhi. One thing for sure, despite all the stories about theft on the trains, they felt safe. Not so much because they had an army sergeant beneath them, but because they had an army sergeant’s wife beneath them.

  Every time men slowed or stopped to stare at the two blondes, they were chased off. The wife would nod to her husband and the sergeant would decry such insulting behavior around his wife. Even when he was off talking to all his men in their non-air-con carriage, the girls felt safe. Twice the wife had taken her furled umbrella to men who were staring.

  The only other westerners that they had met on this train were a young American couple in the next compartment. They may have been older than Maya but they seemed so naive. She assumed they were missionaries of some kind because they were so clean cut. Mormon perhaps. They had a lot more space because they were sharing their compartment with two Indian men who were traveling without their families.

  While the girls read books in exile up near the roof, the young Mormons were being bought food and drinks by the Indian men, who were having a rollicking time practicing their English. Well after the lights in the girls' compartment were turned off so the children could sleep, the Mormon's light continued.

  From Maya's perch she could see the reflection of the next compartment in the far window. There was certainly an advantage to traveling with a man and she envied the young woman of the couple. Her man was a big guy, too big to mess with. Whereas she and Marique must treat every open offer of friendship with suspicion and refuse any gifts of food or open drinks, the young couple could accept any hospitality that was offered.

  She slept fitfully, and would wake whenever the train stopped at a station or a siding, and then sleep again when it lurched into motion again. She was using her Blackberry as a clock. As a phone it was continuously searching for service. She woke yet again to a stopped train. Midnight. She rolled over to turn away from the wall and faced out.

  The lights were still on the dim setting next door. She could see bodies still moving about. Something didn't look right. She pulled out her tiny monocular and tried to focus on the reflection in the window. Because the train was stopped that worked pretty well. One of the Indian men was searching the Mormon
man's clothes. The other man was groping the woman, horribly groping her.

  The couple must have been drugged. Despite his size, the Mormon man was asleep and useless. He was being robbed, while his woman was being raped. Maya tried to get out of her silk sleeping bag liner. She didn't have a sleeping bag, just a delicious-feeling silk liner. It was dark, and the bag was tangled. She lost her balance on the narrow bunk and started to fall head first out of it.

  As she was saving herself by grasping at the chain that held the bunk, a kind hand reached up from below and pushed her back up. The voice was that of the Sikh woman. "You are having a bad dream, I am thinking. Wake up and get back in your bunk if you are pleasing."

  "The men, the men in the next compartment," Maya said as she peered into the darkness trying to see the woman’s face. "They are robbing the young couple. They are raping the girl."

  "What is that you are saying?" came the reply in a louder voice. She could see the woman’s head now because she was trying to stand up by finding places for her feet between sleeping children and piles luggage. "You are saying that those men are badmashes? I told my husband that. I did not trust them. They were being overly friendly."

  "Hurry, help them! We may be too late!" Maya gasped urgently, renewing her struggle with her silk bag.

  The woman shook her husband, but he was deep asleep. She grabbed her umbrella and ran out of the compartment, and into the next one. Then there was a lot of screaming and they weren't the screams of a woman.

  Finally, the sergeant sat up and Maya yelled at him that the men next door were attacking his wife. That news sent him leaping out of the compartment brandishing a large stick. Then the screaming in the next compartment really began.

  "What is happening?" asked Marique. She woke with a start and sat up, only to bump her head hard on the ceiling and then lay back down again moaning in pain.

  "The Mormon couple was being robbed. Mama from downstairs is taking care of it," Maya said, really not that interested in her friend's moans because the little baby downstairs had begun to cry. She was finally free of her silk bag and so she lowered herself down onto Mama's bed and gently picked up the baby to rock it. Big sister, at least four, saw her with the baby and crawled with her blanket in tow to sit beside her. They sat, wide-eyed, and watched the action across the corridor.

  For the first time in her life, she saw someone actually pull the emergency cord. Of course, they were stopped at a siding at the time, so there was no slamming on of brakes or the sudden grinding halt that you see in the movies. It did cause a conductor to come running, though. He entered the fray next door, helping the husband to drag the wife off the two badmashes. She was bent on murdering them.

  Once she was pulled free of the tangle of beaten men who lay sobbing on the floor, she heard her baby crying and left the badmashes to the men so she could return to him. She came through the compartment door and sat beside Maya and gently took her little boy from her. "You had better be seeing to the poor girl next door," she told Maya. "There are only being men there now."

  Maya was still dressed in her travel shirt and skirt, with leggings underneath, and her passport pouch safely attached to her skirt. She was ready for anything. She came in the door just as the big Sikh was checking the Mormon girl for vital signs. Maya pushed him gently out of her way, while saying 'thank you' and 'please'.

  The woman’s blouse was torn open and her bra pulled down and she was exposed to all these men. Maya tidied her up as best she could. Her breaths were slow but deep. She gently opened one eyelid and checked her pupil. She was definitely drugged. She didn't feel safe going to the other side of the compartment to check the man, because there were two Indian men sitting on the floor sobbing in pain.

  Two more conductors arrived, one stayed and one hurried away. The Sikh turned to Maya and told her that they were going to stop at the next station and hand these men to the police. The conductors had phoned ahead for the police to find a doctor.

  It was almost an hour before they pulled up at the next station. Maya spent the whole time cradling the Mormon woman in her arms. She was starting to come around, but she was totally out of it. The Sikh had gone back to his family and the conductors stood guard over the badmashes with heavy-looking sticks in their hands.

  It amazed her that the only weapons she had seen so far was sticks. In America there would have been pistols blazing during such an incident.

  When the police came on board, they did have a doctor with them who took over caring for the couple. Maya got out of the way, and went back to her own compartment, longing to crawl back into bed. However, that idea soon went out the window because Mama was quick to scold her for leaving the Mormon woman by herself with so many men. Feeling like a reprimanded child, Maya shuffled back over to keep an eye out for her.

  The police searched the badmashes and identified the drugs they had used, which was a relief to the doctor. He announced that the couple just needed to sleep it off, and then he looked at the injuries of the two badmashes. The police also found the man's wallet and the woman's purse and jewelry and after counting out the money in front of witnesses, handed them to the conductor to be returned to them when they were themselves again.

  The conductors asked Maya to please change compartments and stay with the stricken couple until they were themselves. They helped her to move her luggage, and on realizing that Marique was her friend, moved her as well.

  Once the Sikh and his wife had written out statements and signed them and gave their contact information, the police hauled the thieves away. One of the conductors told Maya that no amount of bribes would save them from justice this time. They had attacked the wife of an Indian army sergeant. They would most certainly be sent to prison.

  Maya chuckled to herself. It had been the wife doing the attacking.

  The train was now almost an hour late, which worried Maya, but made Marique laugh. A train in India that was only an hour late was considered right on time. They got out of the conductor's way while he set up all the bunks and shifted the man to a laying position on one of the lower ones. With his woman on the other lower, that again left Maya and Marique on the top bunks.

  Marique climbed up and went back to sleep. Maya sat on the woman's lower bunk keeping watch over her. In any case, this had all been too exciting to allow her to sleep. Hours later she woke up to the sound of the Mormon man thrashing about and cursing.

  She calmed him down and told him that he had been drugged by the men in the compartment.

  "Well, I think they got my wallet," he said while he continued to search everywhere for it.

  Maya got mad. All this worry about his effing wallet, and not once did he ask about his woman. "Your woman is fine, by the way. We like, stopped them before they had a chance to pork her."

  "What?" he said suddenly realizing the full extent of his stupidity. "Oh." He sat on his bunk and stared at his wife and then at the blonde stranger. He wondered if she were Mormon too. She had the look.

  "It was the Sikh mother next door who stopped them. She went after them like a lioness protecting cubs. They didn't stand a chance. Your valuables are with the conductor. The next time you see him, ask him for them. Here, have some water." She passed him an unopened water bottle.

  The man held his head in his hands and looked at the floor. Then he realized that it was not betel nut spittle staining the floor red, but blood. He felt nauseous and headed for the toilet.

  Maya tried to warn him. If he wasn't puking before he went into the toilet of a train that had already been moving for twenty hours, then he most certainly would be when the smell of the toilet hit him. One of the drawbacks of air-con carriages was that you couldn't open the windows.

  The girl started coming around and Maya opened another water bottle and poured some over her lips, and then wet her neck scarf and bathed the woman's face with the clean fresh water. She knew that the man had returned when there was a tall shadow and a smell of toilet. "Ugh," she said to the Mormon m
an who was about to step around her, "you've stepped in something. Go and wipe your shoes."

  He ignored her and continued to step around her. Suddenly his head snapped back and he yelled out in pain. Marique's voice came from above. "You 'eard her, go and wipe your feet." She had reached down from her bunk and was pulling back on a handful of his hair. He started to back up so she would let his hair go.

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  By sunrise everyone was sleeping. The conductor had returned the wallets, the couple had rehydrated. Maya and Marique were feeling proud of themselves for their travel rule of fasting while on long trips. It meant they didn't yet need to use the disgusting toilets.

  By eight, as their train was pulling into Margoa station, the young couple were almost human again. Human enough to be grateful for the help they had received. They even handed each of them a card giving their names and the address of their church in Panaji. Panaji is the capital of Goa, a dozen miles north of this main station.

  Maya and Marique said their goodbyes to the Sikh family, who were going further south. The young couple also said their thanks but ended up getting an earful from mama. "You are being very silly young people. Was not your mother ever telling you not to accept sweets from strangers? This is a lesson, I think."

  Marique had waved away the offers of help from porters, so the two women humped their own pack/suitcases down the carriage to the exit and climbed down onto the platform. They were immediately surrounded by hustlers. They kept their silence and wagged their fingers 'no' at them politely. The hustlers moved on the Mormon couple, who made the mistake of talking to them.

  Despite Marique’s assurances that this station was sane compared to most in India, it did not appear so. There were hundreds of people crisscrossing their path as they made their way towards the public buses. People with trays and baskets on their heads trying to sell something, anything to the passengers during this short stop. People stretching their legs from the train and looking for chai or coffee. People humping luggage away from the train. People humping luggage towards the train.