Sophie Kinsella: Shopaholic and sister

At Chandra’s instruction, we all move into the Vajrasana pose. From where I am, I can just see an elderly Sri Lankan man carrying two old carpetbags, approaching Chandra. They have a brief conversation, during which Chandra keeps shaking his head, then the old man trudges away over the scrubby hillside. When he’s out of earshot, Chandra turns to face the group, rolling his eyes.

“This man is a merchant. He asks if any of you are interested in gems. Necklaces, cheap bracelets. I tell him your minds are on higher things.”

A few people near me shake their heads as though in disbelief. One woman, with long red hair, looks affronted.

“Couldn’t he see we were in the middle of meditation?” she says.

“He has no understanding of your spiritual devotion.” Chandra looks around the group seriously. “It will be the same with many others in the world. They will not understand that meditation is food for your soul. You have no need for… sapphire bracelet!”

A few people nod in appreciation.

“Aquamarine pendant with platinum chain,” Chandra continues dismissively. “How does this compare to the radiance of inner enlightenment?”

Aquamarine?

Wow. I wonder how much—

I mean, not that I’m interested. Obviously not. It’s just that I happened to be looking at aquamarines in a shop window the other day. Just out of an academic interest.

My eye drifts toward the retreating figure of the old man.

“Three-carat setting, five-carat setting, he keeps saying. All half price.” Chandra shakes his head. “I tell him, these people are not interested.”

Half price? Five-carat aquamarines at half price?

Stop it. Stop it. Chandra’s right. Of course I’m not interested in stupid aquamarines. I’m absorbed in spiritual enlightenment.

Anyway, the old man’s nearly gone now. He’s just a tiny figure on top of the hill. In a minute he’ll have disappeared.

“And now.” Chandra smiles. “The Halasana pose. Becky, will you demonstrate?”

“Absolutely.” I smile at Chandra and prepare to get into position on my mat.

But something’s wrong. I don’t feel contentment. I don’t feel tranquillity. The oddest feeling is welling up inside me, driving everything else out. It’s getting stronger and stronger…

And suddenly I can’t contain it anymore. Before I know what’s happening, I’m running in my bare feet as fast as I can up the hill toward the tiny figure. My lungs are burning, my feet are smarting, and the sun’s beating down on my bare head, but I don’t stop until I’ve reached the crest of the hill. I come to a halt and look around, panting.

I don’t believe it. He’s gone. Where did he vanish to?

I stand for a few moments, regaining my breath, peering in all directions. But I can’t see him anywhere.

At last, feeling a little dejected, I turn and make my way back down the hillside to the group. As I get near I realize they’re all shouting and waving at me. Oh God. Am I in trouble?

“You did it!” the red-haired woman’s yelling. “You did it!”

“Did what?”

“You ran over the hot coals! You did it, Becky!”

What?

I look down at my feet… and I don’t believe it. They’re covered in gray ash! In a daze, I look at the pit of coals — and there’s a set of clear footprints running through it.

Oh my God. Oh my God! I ran over the coals! I ran over the burning hot smoldering coals! I did it!

“But… but I didn’t even notice!” I say, bewildered. “My feet aren’t even burned!”

“How did you do it?” demands the red-haired woman. “What was in your mind?”

“I can answer.” Chandra comes forward, smiling. “Becky has achieved the highest form of karmic bliss. She was concentrating on one goal, one pure image, and this has driven her body to achieve a supernatural state.”

Everyone is goggling at me like I’m suddenly the Dalai Lama.

“It was nothing, really,” I say, with a modest smile. “Just… you know. Spiritual enlightenment.”

“Can you describe the image?” asks the red-haired woman in excitement.

“Was it white?” someone else chimes in.

“Not really white…” I say.

“Was it a kind of shiny blue green?” comes Luke’s voice from the back. I look up sharply. He’s gazing at me, totally straight-faced.

“I don’t remember,” I say with dignity. “The color wasn’t important.”

“Did it feel like…” Luke appears to think hard. “Like the links of a chain were pulling you along?”

“That’s a very good image, Luke,” chimes in Chandra, pleased.

“No,” I say shortly. “It didn’t. Actually, I think you probably have to have a higher appreciation of spiritual matters to understand.”

“I see.” Luke nods gravely.

“Luke, you must be very proud.” Chandra beams at Luke. “Is this not the most extraordinary thing you have ever seen your wife do?”

There’s a beat of silence. Luke looks from me to the smoldering coals to the silent group and back to Chandra’s beaming face.

“Chandra,” he says. “Take it from me. This is nothing.”

After the class is finished everyone heads to the terrace, where cool drinks are waiting on a tray. But I stay on my mat, meditating, to show how dedicated I am to higher things. I’m half concentrating on the white light of my being and half imagining running over hot coals in front of Trudie and Sting while they applaud admiringly, when a shadow falls across my face.

“Greetings, O Spiritual One,” says Luke, and I open my eyes to see him standing in front of me, holding out a glass of juice.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t have a beautiful inner being,” I retort, and casually smooth back my hair so the red dot painted on my forehead shows.

“Insanely,” agrees Luke. “Have a drink.”

He sits down beside me on the ground and hands me the glass. I take a sip of delicious, ice-cold passion-fruit juice and we both look out over the hills toward the distant horizon.

“You know, I could really live in Sri Lanka,” I say with a sigh. “It’s perfect. The weather… the scenery… all the people are so friendly…”

“You said the same in India,” Luke points out. “And Australia,” he adds as I open my mouth. “And Amsterdam.”

Oh.

God, Amsterdam. I’d completely forgotten we went there. That was after Paris. Or was it before?

Oh, yes. It was where I ate all those weird cakes and nearly fell in the canal.

I take another sip of juice and let my mind range back over the last ten months. We’ve visited so many countries, it’s kind of difficult to remember everything at once. It’s almost like a blur of film, with sharp, bright images here and there. Snorkeling with all those blue fish in the Great Barrier Reef… the pyramids in Egypt… the elephant safari in Tanzania… buying all that silk in Hong Kong… the gold souk in Morocco… finding that amazing Ralph Lauren outlet in Utah…

God, we’ve had some experiences. I sigh happily and take another sip of juice.

“I forgot to tell you.” Luke produces a pile of envelopes. “Some post came from England.”

I sit up in excitement and start leafing through the envelopes.

“Vogue!” I exclaim as I get to my special subscriber edition in its shiny plastic cover. “Ooh, look! They’ve got an Angel bag on the front cover!”

I wait for a reaction — but Luke looks blank. I feel a tiny flicker of frustration. How can he look blank? I read him out that whole piece about Angel bags last month, and showed him the pictures and everything.

I know this is our honeymoon. But just sometimes, I wish Luke was a girl.

“You know!” I say. “Angel bags! The most amazing, hip bags since… since…”