S. by John Updike Page B

love that inspired mine. He is a beautiful presence in three dimensions, Irving. He is
real
. Not too tall and with a little gray in his beard but not too old either. He is paler than I expected but then of course Indians comein all shades; those invading people who brought the Vedas were just like Vikings. His cheeks and forehead are so free of wrinkles the gray in his beard and his eyebrows almost looks frosted on. His office had the air-conditioning turned way up, which went with the frosted look—I thought to myself I should wear a sweater next time. Anyway, after the letter and a few other, shorter ones—he has so many people
after
him, everybody wanting a piece—he asked me in that thrilling funny accent of his what my name was. I said Sarah Worth and that I hadn’t been given my ashram name yet. He looked at me the longest time, with this little smile, and these bottomless eyes, and said, “You are Kundalini.”
I am?
I said, blushing—I just went
hot
all over. “Veritably,” he said. “You are she at last. You have come to burn away everything klishta, everything duhshama. You shall save us from our sorrowful impurity.”
    This seemed flirtatious and almost aggressive, so I just stood there blushing. He admired my healthy tan complexion. He said I was darker than he was. I was all flustered and said it was just genes from my father, plus vitamin E and PABA and oil baths twice a week when I was at home in Massachusetts, but of course baths were more difficult here and the desert air was very drying to the epidermis. Then he said something like “You are smooth and electrical” and settled back into his silver armchair—like a Barcalounger with high squarish arms and a padded rest for the head as on a dental chair—and I decided the time had come for me to go. I’ve taken dictation a number of times since then and am hardly nervous now at all. Irving, he really is all we imagined he is, and more. I mean, as well as being divine he’s
nice
, and shy, even.
    Some years ago, while still at the Ellora ashram, he cut a tape on Kundalini, and I enclose one, free, though they go for $14.90 in our catalogue. Play it for yourself and the gangsome Wednesday when you can all take an extra half-hour. Hope everything goes well with you and you’re not too busy in the framing shop—you must be absolutely
buried
in diplomas this time of year. And graduation pictures. Soon, June weddings! Or do people just put those in albums? Or in those little store-bought frames that sit on the piano and look chintzy and somehow
scary
?
    Your grateful former student,
Kundalini!
    [
tape
]
    We will talk today of Kundalini. She is the female energy in things. Not just women we are speaking of; she is in all things. She sleeps coiled at the base of the spine, in the root chakra, which is called Muladhara. The lotus of this chakra has four red petals. On them are inscribed the Sanskrit letters va, śa,a, and sa. These letters are contained within a yellow square; this represents the earth element. An inverted triangle within the square holds Kundalini coiled three and one half times around the linga. The linga is the male organ, and also it represents the subtle space in which the universe undergoes the repeated process of formation and dissolution. Also in this chakra is Brahma, the creator-god of the gross material world. He has four arms and three eyes and four faces and holds, the sages say, a trident, a jar, a rosary, and with his remaining hand makes the mudra that dispels fear, the abhayamudra. His energy is called Dakini and is shining pink and also holds many things, such as a sword and a drinking vessel. Also in this chakra is a large elephant with a black strip around its neck. He forms the symbol of physical resistance. The principle of smell is associated with this chakra. That is all we know of Muladhara, at the base of the spine.
    You ask, how does Kundalini awaken? How does she leave off her sleeping coiled around the