You and Me and Rama Makes Three

Story Submitted by Victor:

Amber came across as very intelligent and she had a tremendous vocabulary.  That alone set her apart, but of special interest was the piece of her profile that mentioned starting her own religion.

"I was told a special truth," it said, "By a monk on a trip to India.  Ever since then, I've been on the right path."

I'm into theology, and so I reached out to her and asked her about it.  She wrote back, very excited, asking me if I wanted to meet in person.  I looked forward to meeting her.

At our lunch, I noted that she outdid me in the facial hair department and I asked her about that "special truth."

She said, "It's a blend of Buddhism and Rama-worship.  I worship the star, Sirius, and his goddess, Nut.  My devotions are daily, and my special animal is the goat."

She took a small envelope out of her purse and pulled out three photos.  One was of herself silhouetted before a bonfire, one was of her with a necklace (yes, a necklace) made of intact goat skulls, and another of her, half-naked, squatting over a mound of earth, with her eyes wide open at the sky.

"My devotions," she explained, then looked at her watch.  "It's time for one of them.  Would you like to see it?"

I assented, and she put her fingertips together and closed her eyes.  Her mouth murmured words I couldn't hear.  Then, she chanted, "Ahhhhhhhhh," took a breath, then went on, louder, "Ahhhhhhhh..."

As I watched, she separated her hands from each other and waved them gently, like anemones in the ocean.

She shouted, "Rama, Buddha, skygods, sky, Sirius, Polaris, Ursa Major."

She lightly caressed her breasts and then put her hands on the table, closed her eyes, and shook.

Her eyes opened.  "Who is dis mor-tal shell?" she asked in a strange accent, then again, "Who is dis?"

I said, "That's pretty impressive."

She asked, "Who is dis mor-tal shell?  Who is dis?" and then her head cocked to one side and she drew her arms in close, then looked away and asked no one in particular, "Who is dis mor-tal shell?  Who is dis?"

She sang the words, over and over, and I swayed back and forth, in rhythm.

"Who is dis mor-tal shell?  Who is dis?"

She sounded like one of those carnival gypsy fortune teller machines.  I drummed on the table as she sang it.  It was merry times.

Then, she said, "Ulp!" and closed her eyes and became limp in her seat.  She opened her eyes and asked, "Did I get possessed?  I don't remember much."

I said, "I think that Bob Dylan possessed you for a little bit.  It was awesome."

We had a good time talking about her spiritual experiences after that, but for some reason or other, I never had the occasion to hang out with her again.