Hippie

“You’re not thinking about joining them, are you?”

“Of course I am. I never sang and danced in the streets like that.”

“Did you know they only allow sex after marriage, and even then only for the purpose of procreation and not pleasure? Can you believe that a group that claims such enlightenment would be capable of rejecting, denying, or condemning something so beautiful?”

“I’m not thinking about sex, I’m thinking about dancing and singing. It’s been forever since I last heard music or sang, and this is a black hole in my life.”

“I can take you out singing and dancing tonight.”

Why did that girl seem so interested in him? She could get any man she wanted whenever she wanted. He thought back to his Argentinean friend—perhaps she needed someone to help her with a job that he wasn’t the least bit interested in. He decided to test the waters.

“Do you know the House of Rising Sun?”

His question could be interpreted three ways: first, whether she was familiar with the song (“The House of the Rising Sun,” the Animals). Second, if she knew what the song meant. Third, and finally, if she would like to go there.

“Quit messing around.”

This boy, whom at first she’d judged to be so intelligent, so charming, quiet, easy to control, seemed to have misunderstood everything. And, incredible though it may seem, she needed him more than he needed her.

“All right then. Go with them and I’ll follow close behind. We’ll find each other at the end.”

She felt like adding, “I already had my Hare Krishna phase,” but she restrained herself so as not to scare her prey.

It was so much fun to be there jumping around, leaping to and fro, singing at the top of his lungs, following those people who dressed in orange, rang little bells, and seemed to be at peace with their lives. Five others had decided to join the group, too, and as they made their way through the streets, still more joined in. He didn’t want to lose her; the two of them had come together for some mysterious reason, a mystery that needed to be kept intact—never understood, but maintained. Yes, there she was, a safe distance behind, so as to avoid being seen with the monks or the apprentice monks, and each time their eyes met, they smiled at one another.

The tie between them was being forged and strengthened.

He remembered a story from his childhood, “The Pied Piper of Hamelin,” in which the main character, to get revenge on a city that had promised to pay him and then did not, d

ecided to hypnotize the town’s children and lead them far away with the power of his music. That’s what was happening at that moment—Paulo had become a child and was dancing in the middle of the street, everything so different from the years he’d spent deep in books about magic, performing complicated rituals and believing that he was closing in on the true avatars. Perhaps he was, perhaps he wasn’t, but dancing and singing also helped to reach the same state of mind.

After so much jumping up and down and repeating the mantra, he began to enter a state in which thought, logic, and the city streets no longer held so much importance—his mind was entirely clear, and he came back to reality only from time to time, to make sure Karla was close behind. Yes, he could see her, and it would be a very good thing if she remained in his life for a long time to come, even if he had known her for only three hours.

He was certain that the same thing had happened to her—or else she would have simply left him at the restaurant.

He was beginning to understand the words Krishna had said to the warrior Arjuna before battle. It wasn’t exactly what was written in the book but in her soul:

Fight because you need to fight, because you’re facing a battle.

Fight because you are at peace with the universe, with the planets, the suns that explode and the stars that shrink and flare out forever.

Fight to fulfill your destiny, without giving thought to gain or profit, losses or stratagems, victories or defeats.

Seek not your own gratification, but that of the Supreme Love who offers nothing beyond a glimmering contact with the Cosmos and thus demands an act of complete devotion—without doubts, without questions, love for love’s sake and nothing else.

A love that owes nothing to anyone, that has no obligations, that finds joy in simple existence and the freedom to express itself.

* * *

—

The procession arrived in Dam Square and began to circle the plaza. Paulo decided to stop there, allow the girl he had met to return to his side—she seemed different, more relaxed, more at ease in his presence. The sun wasn’t quite so hot as before, it was unlikely he’d see the girls with their bare breasts again, but since everything seemed to contradict his expectations, the couple noted bright lights to the left of the spot where they were seated. Having absolutely nothing to do, they decided to go see what was happening.

The reflectors cast light across the body of a completely nude model holding a tulip that covered only her crotch. The obelisk in the center of Dam Square formed the background behind her. Karla asked one of the assistants what the meaning of all that was.

“A poster for the department of tourism.”

“This is how you’re selling Holland to foreigners? A place where people go naked in the city?”