Cartwheels in a Sari by Jayanti Tamm Page B

streak of a camera's flash preserving yet another blessingful moment of me with Guru. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, and inwardly begged forgiveness for being so undeserving to be the luckiest person in the whole world.
    To show his infinite compassion, Guru called the disciples who were not invited on his bus to receive prasad first. An excited push came from the crowd that wove into a single-file line. There were always many, many disciples who were not included in special groups and gatherings. From new disciples who had recently joined to disciples who had been in the Center for years, there was a mass—many who appeared nameless and faceless—simply filling in the empty seats at the back of the hall and driving their cars throughout the night in the hopes of being seen by the Master. Among that group was Chahna's family.
    A hardworking couple from Bayonne, New Jersey, Chahna's parents came to the Center soon after she was born. Chahna was five years younger than me, and as far as Center rankings went, her family was definitely not invited on Guru's bus. With an eccentric father who inserted wacky jokes into every conversation and a mother who collected
Star Trek
memorabilia, Chahna's family seemed happier to be toting along attheir pace in their own vehicle. Chahna smiled, her round face flecked with freckles lighting up, when she saw me looking toward the back of the line. She waved, her two long dark braids tossing wildly, and then got embarrassed for doing so on such a soulful occasion. In her ugly yellow hat with a pompom on top and her brown corduroy coat misbuttoned, Chahna was my own special friend. The first time I spotted Chahna, she shyly hid behind her mother's legs as her mother tried to walk her up to the stage with the rest of the child disciples; I loved her instantly. I had grabbed her hand and told her to come with me. In that moment, Chahna dropped her mother's grip, blinked up at me with grateful relief, and accompanied me to Guru. I knew then that I had gained a permanent and loyal sister.
    As others watched me standing next to Guru, and as Guru extended his hand toward me, awaiting the cups I'd place in the grip of his delicate hand, I knew everyone longed to be in my position next to Guru. Chahna, I knew, just longed to be my friend, for me, and for me alone. Having friends was always difficult. Guru banned any friendships with people outside the Center, and friendships in the Center were complicated. Guru often created my friendships, advising me to stay away from certain disciples because they were undivine and steering me toward others because he said they were spiritually worthy. It always felt strange to hear Guru veer me away from certain disciples and nudge me closer to others. A few times, he reversed his pairing and had me befriend someone who originally had been on the banned list. Though I found it confusing and secretive, I obeyed, knowing that it pleased Guru. To him, controlling friendships was an important way to monitor another aspect of his disciple's lives. However, Chahna was a friendship I created on my own. She was mine, and Guru remained silent, never officially sanctioning or denying our relationship.
    Seeing Chahna approach Guru for prasad, for the first time in what seemed like years I smiled. She stood before Guru, her serious gray eyes blinking rapidly, and though Guru did not even smile or pause, let alone say a word to her, when he handed her the cup, her entire face beamed with joy as if she had been given a magical gift. She bowed low, and nearly skipped her way to the back, vanishing among the crowds.
    THAT SUMMER GURU gave me a job. With long hours and no pay, I was the envy of all the disciples. Daily, my mother would drive me to Guru's house in the early morning. I quietly waited by the side door that led directly to Guru's basement, the site of the Madal Zoo. No one was allowed to ring the bell or knock. The policy was to wait patiently until someone