Pure Love in the Halcyon World

Note: Thanks Sasha and Carlie Collins for editing the work to make it presentable and acceptable to Literotica.

*****

The change was very perceptible and even palpable. Fiona Morgan was travelling east, leaving the plains of the Indian heartland. She was a compulsive face turner wherever she happened to be, given her right proportions of curves. It was not the totality of the symphony of curves that mattered; it was the air of cheerfulness that she inadvertently threw all along her paths that mattered. Her mere presence has always had an impact on the people around, as the Full moon has on an otherwise inky night. Suddenly you feel that the world is worth living, suddenly you feel that the world around has a charm and grace you were not aware of hitherto.

She was cooling off after a five long years of stormy demeaning conjugal life. Probably she was giving herself a treat as a reward for the liberation.

The drunken squabbles are no more, nor the sly philandering, the brazen abomination, the barren tomorrows.

Before laying the foundations of a new life of her own, with herself very much at the helm, Fiona wanted to take a break. She had travelled to India from the dry and mechanical expanse of southern California.

The Indian experience was just a curiosity. It had not profoundly influenced her, nor had she stumbled upon some spiritual serendipity that many travelers claimed to have had.

The method-less method of the organic and ever flowing angst stricken crowds. The inexorable greed in the eyes of the people. The spiritual peddlers flooding the temple towns. The squalor and filth that saturate the towns along the holy rivers. The sturdy and rugged men of religion parading stark naked with stones hanging from the phalluses. The strange men with ashes from the crematoria on the river smeared on the body. The invisible divisions of caste color and faith.

India was a curious experience. The ancient country spread proudly and mysteriously before her. It defied the hallowed tenets of equality, dignity and human rights.

Remote and imperious centuries walked with her and whispered to her in a language that was not a language at all.

Suddenly the landscape changed, they had entered a narrow valley along a furious Himalayan river slithering down across the dreamy foothills. Quite dramatically the air turned less dusty and the people appeared languid and relaxed as if there was an infinity before them. The hills were clad in thick foliage drenched and invigorated in the recent pre monsoonal rains. The northern plains of India were blazing in the furious sun of May, almost like her own town of Ontario in California.

The driver was a young Nepali man who was affable and anxious to please her. He jabbered to her in a curious 'English'. He drawled his words to make it appear American. He would have been more legible and understood had he tried his natural accent.

He often pampered his poor fledgling of a mustache which struggled valiantly to assert his masculinity against the odds. His was a delicate and strikingly feminine body.

They followed the river which laughed, squealed and hollered across the unfeeling boulders. The petite foothills by and by gave way to towering mountains that tickled the hazy heavens. It was indeed a sunny sultry day.

In the afternoon they reached a confluence of the mountain rivers where a small town had developed. Small puny rickety shops boasted strange Himalayan goods, in addition to fruits and edible items brought from the plains. The little man of a driver invited her to a small tea shop for refreshments.

Fiona got out and stretched herself, violently breathing in the fresh Himalayan air. She felt very adventurous, entering into a very mysterious world. 'We stumble on our destiny in places and at times we are least prepared for', she thought.

Raj Bahadoor, the Nepali driver, offered her thukpa; a variety of beef soup with vegetable added. It would be unthinkable in mainland India, where having beef is anathema and lynch squads may even kill you.

"Now we will climb uphill madam, beyond those towering hills and be ready for the change of scene. We are going to enter a brave new world," he promised.

"I see," she said and smiled her enchanting smile. She had picked him up from the airport availing of the prepaid taxi service. 'Randomness has a foolproof methodology to goad you to the right hands', she thought.

They began to whirr up their winding way. The dull tin roofs of the town appearing far below them like a lazy jumble of disowned dreams. She gazed at the mountain river like a long silver streak and the mammoth mountain across with geometric patterns of orchards and farmlands. The road was not friendly, it had suffered numerous landslides and mud slumps. On certain stretches the road was almost missing. The driver proved his grit; as it was not an easy task to drive on that treacherous road. The mountain on the southern side basked in the bold afternoon sun, she rolled up the glass window as it was becoming progressively cooler.

Ruddy and cute faces of the Himalayan people appeared from the huts. The Mongolian features were strikingly beautiful, rustic rugged yet charmingly innocent people.

They crossed orchards of orange, cardamom and bamboo. She was intrigued by the huge flags that fluttered from tall bamboo poles.

The driver explained their significance, "they are prayer flags madam, the mantras and prayers printed on them will flutter in the air and prayers will reach the heavens bringing good luck to all the people around. Also, they will ward off evil spirits and ghosts."

"That is interesting." She said.

After having climbed 6000 feet, they reached a fairly large town, which was the district capital. They had scented Himalayan tea and mumu from a shop. The driver watched her enjoying the food half closing his eyes by way of her merry smile. She tasted them like a child experimenting with his new toy.

"Another 2000 feet madam and we are there," he announced. The young man was obviously under the spell of her beauty. Her jeans were hugging her sculptured thighs and the thin beige shirt ecstatically clung to her enchanting full bust.

During the steep climb upward, they entered a forest. The brooding pensive trees consisted of chestnuts in full bloom, with occasional shocks of wood apples. After the moist melancholy woods, they reached a cluster of buildings serving as government offices where May had fondled the cherries along the hedges into riotous bloom. Dahlias and dandelions brought out the best of their prayers to the deep azure heavens.

Again, they plunged into the woods, chestnuts walnuts and pines sulked and prayed. It was already evening. Far on the horizon, she could see the crimson evening sun sweeping past the hazy ridges. They crossed rows of prayer flags and chetens.

The driver stopped at a deserted junction in the sulking woods and turned to her, "madam, your hotel is just two kilometers away, the climb is over. But I could take you to the most famous and oldest Buddhist monastery in the region now, if you want."

His eyes furtively feasted on her delicious bust.

"Alright," she was curious, of course. She had plenty of time the next day to explore the region.

Again, they climbed uphill, another thousand feet or so and reached the apex of the mountain. There was little sun over there. The huge rectangular building of a monastery glowed in the fading sun. Fiona got out and a sharp acicular Himalayan chill accosted her. A cool breeze swept past her. She found her nipples hardening.

All around she could see deep and dark ravines that had slipped into a soft Himalayan slumber, occasional flickers of lamps from houses flashed as puny embers. She ventured into the sacred compound and the driver offered himself as the guide as she knew next to nothing about the customs.

They walked around the three storied structure three times chanting imaginary prayers. Having no other prayer handy, she said the Lord 's Prayer. It would suffice for the moment, she thought. Then he guided her up a steep wooden ladder. He climbed behind her and tried hard to get a whiff of her fragrance. His eyes were glued to her swaying, mouthwatering bottom. She was thrilled by the representation of heaven, with numerous rainbows, demigods, gods, and different strata of divinity. She decided to visit the place once again.

Later, she was goaded to a hall where monks were chanting sonorous prayers in Tibetan, punctuated by drums and hoary traditional horns. The whole cacophony lacked music, at least to her taste. Bizarre and grotesque statues of monsters with claws and fangs and bulging disproportionate eyes threatened her. She was made to prostrate there and offer her donations. When they walked out a monk followed them.

'Hallo lady. I am the head monk of the monastery," he introduced himself.

"Oh wonderful," she offered her hand. His hand was thick and strong. The monk confused her, he appeared to be of an age between forty and eighty, so old and so young. He was clean shaven, and his hair was closely cropped. He had a large intelligent face with small dark eyes, his tunic and skirt proclaimed that he was very conscious and meticulous about his appearance.

"Come to my room and I will explain to you the secrets of Himalayan spirituality," he offered with a twinkle in his small eyes. He seemed imperious, nobody could defy him. Like an obedient and mystified lamb, she followed him.

His old woodhouse was a three story building which creaked when they climbed up. The walnuts around had a thick canopy of tender lilac-purple leaves. They entered his prayer room which appeared terribly exotic and intriguing. Mantras hummed at them from invisible speakers. The sanctum sanctorum was bedecked with various grotesque figurines and artifacts. The bottom layer consisted of eatables such as butter, fruits and numerous bottles of alcoholic drinks.

She was asked to sit on the floor on thick yak fleece. He also sat on the floor against her. The driver waited outside.

"Thousands of foreigners come here in search of spirituality. I guide them and convert them. I regularly visit western countries to preach and salvage the people. Ours is a holy land, gods live here. Our prescription for salvation is fool proof; it is as scientific as any mathematical formula. But you have to be ready for that both psychologically and spiritually."

"But for the moment, I am not into spirituality. I do appreciate your concern and kindness. Maybe I will come to you at a later stage."

"Come, I will show you something," he guided her out through the back door, there was a nine story building there. But it was only a structure.

"I built this much with the help and donations from abroad. This facility will function as a retreat where westerners could come , stay, and study spirituality. More money is required for its completion."

"I don't have that kind of money, once I am settled, I could think of helping you in this venture."

"You are a unique avatar, I can read it in your eyes. I am sure that the great awakening will happen to you in due course."

"Thank you, sir, but how do you know?"

"It is simple practice. Your thoughts define you and your dreams radiate from you, you cease to be when your dreams die."

She wondered whether she had any dreams left, probably she had to find new dreams and chase it, as for thoughts she did not have any to reckon with except to flow with the flow. The old monk was indeed trying his charms on her. But it was foolish to be smart when it would serve no purpose except for inducing rancor.

"Can you stay here for some time? I have a school down there on the way to the town, it is meant for orphan girls. You could stay there and volunteer as a teacher. It will be a tremendous experience."

She was brought back to reality by a prodding and persistent monk.

"That is interesting sir, let me think about it, I cannot promise anything for now."

He was so domineering, and she found it difficult, if not impossible to deny him. She wanted to sit back and brood, finding what she herself wanted. Spirituality was not immediately on her agenda. She had to make her choices not under the spell of his exotic charm offensive.

"My soul tells me that you belong here," he whispered, and a powerful shock streaked past her.

"Now look there," he pointed north.

She was taken aback and wondered why she had not noticed it before. Probably mist had screened it. In front of her across the obfuscated valley sprawled the third highest peak in the world, the mount Kanchenjunga. She was not prepared for that. Crimson beams of evening had transmuted the turrets to sheer gold. She stood there awe stricken.

"That is our guardian deity, it will protect us," he whispered.

"Yes sir," she whispered back in awe,

Later, after reaching the hotel she dismissed the driver. The cute and young receptionist at the hotel, was in her early twenties and quite charming and beautiful. She was obsequious and gentle.

The girl was stunned by Fiona's beauty. Pure lust rippled in her eyes. She had charming eyes which on their own continued to gravitate to Fiona's heavenly breasts. She found her nipples hardening in the Himalayan chill.

Back in her room she flung herself on the bed anxious to relax. She wanted to shed the dust of the road, the fatigues of the long trying journey fraught with many a dramatic encounter and twist.

Lying there she tried to remove the tapestry to get a glimpse of the snowy steeple. Night had befallen and the world had settled into sweet silence.

She needed and deserved a warm bath in the tub.

Fiona stood in front of the full-length mirror and removed her dress. Her oval face and hazel eyes had the charm of a new moon on a cool night of southern spring. Her eyes looked like the deep seas in the cool dawn of September, moist, lively and thoughtful, wise vivacious eyes. The shirt was icky with sweat and dust. When she shucked it away the exquisite twin beauties in her bra struggled for fresh air. The cups hugged them deliciously, almost with a jealous possessiveness, her gravity defying 34 DDs perched proudly on her thirty years old chest.

She ran her fingers over the cups gently and smiled to herself. Then she uncoiled her hair and it tumbled down into a silken gossamer cascade of sweet autumn clouds. She turned around and surveyed herself and once again felt her bra cups before opening the bra. Now she turned to her belt and unbuckled it. She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down. The pink panties were moist, the girl in reception had provoked so much juice in her. Fiona laughed slyly.

She debated whether to pleasure the sweet and love laden lady down there in the furry paradise with her nimble, delicate fingers and decided not to. Waiting adds to the pleasure.

The room and the hotel had a de ja vous aura. It was a thoroughly Americanized hotel in texture and design, that must be the reason, she thought.

After her luxurious bath and dinner, Fiona slept the night away oblivious of all concerns and alarms, just like a child innocent of his tomorrows.

After a deep and dreamless sleep, safe and sequestered under the furry quilt, warm and cozy as if in her mother's womb, Fiona opened her eyes and took some time to solve the space time puzzle and to realize where she was.

She adjusted her bra and gathered the skirt of her flowing gown to sashay to the casement. She removed the Tibetan tapestry and anxiously looked outside. It was a sight indeed. After the nocturnal rains, the deep and dreaming valleys far down looked fresh and sparkling. Far to the north, the third highest peak of the world glistened in the morning sun. The conical pinnacle and the subordinate peaks spoke the language of pure grandeur. The azure heavens kissed the silver steeples with an unconditional devotion. On either side of the peak, huge granite turrets rose deep into the heavens with a sprinkle of snow on top.

She found a long row of high-rise hotels aligned along the country road offering a grand vista of the frozen panorama from the balcony. Her mind suddenly thawed and became pious and awe-stricken. Her admiration became a silent prayer, a congealed admiration for the great poet of nature. She reminded herself that God's world is beautiful and perfect and if it appears otherwise it is man's fault. At that hyper charged and pious moment, she decided to stay back and rediscover herself, to trace out her karma, to be herself. All other concerns of great consequence could wait, everything begins with the self and ends with the self.

When Fiona showed up with her huge backpack on the campus, the school assembly was taking place in the gentle Himalayan sun of May. The principal of the school, a monk in ceremonial robes and a shaven head, stood in front; grave and somber. On the side the teachers were aligned, a man in his forties and his curvaceous wife stood close by. They were followed by four other lady teachers in the traditional ceremonial dress, bakku. Fiona also joined them. Then close to her, another young lady appeared.

She was apparently in her mid-twenties and was in pale green slacks and a white vest. Her hair was tied in a pony. But the striking feature was that she did not entirely look oriental, she had overt and undeniable Caucasian features. She could pass unnoticed in a street in NY or LA. Yet she was strikingly beautiful, with her delicate features including her brown merry eyes and aquiline nose. She looked around 5' 6'' outside her high heels, a little shorter than Fiona herself. Her fingers and toes were shining glossy Alabaster, long and artistic.

An electric jolt passed through Fiona as she stole a glance at those perky perfect tits sitting snug inside that snow-white vest. The stranger looked at her and smiled sweetly, flashing her teeth as white as the rare hailstorms. Fiona blushed beet red and lowered her gaze.

She was formally introduced to the students by the head teacher and the students greeted her with a chorus of "tashi delek lobenla."

She bowed to them lovingly. The children, mostly girls from five to eighteen and boys from five to ten, looked cute and beautiful in their oriental features.

After the assembly the young lady offered her hand and introduced herself, "hi Fiona, I am Yeshey, the physics teacher."

'Yeshey,' the name sounded sweet and romantic.

"Shall I help you to take your things to your room?" she asked. Fiona nodded as if in a dream.

Yeshey took the backpack against Fiona's vociferous protests and guided her to the teachers' quarter. It was a four storied building, a little way down offering a magnificent vista of the snowy peak where three ancient counties of Asia tremblingly met. Fiona could see the outline of Yeshey's bra from behind. It must be a carefully chosen costly cotton bra, she thought. Her hips danced like primordial music of youthfulness and natural exuberance.

Yeshey helped her settle in the room and went back to the school offering to meet her in the evening. Fiona knew that it would take some time for her to settle down and to be at home in an exotic world. But it was worth a try.

At school she met the other teachers as well, the young lady teachers Sonam, Phur, Ogmu, and Kunzang were charming beautiful and had exquisite curves. The married lady Lobzang also was beautiful with a luscious anatomy. All of them appeared affable and friendly.

During the lunch break, Yeshey helped her to collect food and they had lunch together. She was secretly pleased that Yeshey was feasting on her breasts. She felt her super sensitive nipples puckering and hardening.

"Maybe you would like to go shopping to buy the essentials for a long haul," Yeshey said.

"Oh yes, I need some fresh lingerie,"