Vera Siti
The last few days I’ve been working a lot with Pritpal. I have been singing his song about the pure light and I think I have been letting it guide me. Every day I have worn white with my hair loose. And I have felt at ease. On the second day, after what was probably my 50th question of the morning, Pritpal looked at me and said, “Stop demanding so many questions. The answers come they will.” He was such a delight.
We spent every day talking and exercising and meditating. And slowly it was making sense to me: this was all in the name of love and truth, and that was life, really. I had once loved my Father, and I now loved Sunriseinsurance, I thought. And I needed to expose the truth for it had, in its own way, undone each of them. And so many others. As I walked in this morning, I was excited. I was going to tell Pritpal. I ran in and hugged him, “Sat Nam, Pritpal! I know what means! It is not about revenge it’s about revealing the truth. It’s about Sat Nam. I will give people the opportunity to choose love and, if not, then and only then will I fight until the truth comes out.”
“It is not the way that I would do it, but it is better. You have learned much, Vera. I think you are ready to fight… After one more session of yoga.” He claps his hands.
…
After we complete our session and we have done the meditation for tremendous strength, Pritpal looks at me. “I will see you at 5am every morning, Miss Vera. We will prepare you for the day. Your next teacher will not be so gentle with you. Remember that when the going gets tough, the tough get going so KEEP UP! Sat Nam Vera Siti.” He bows his head. Where the hell am I going? By the time he’s looking up again, Miss Stone is standing in the doorway. “Are you ready for the next step?” I look at her, “Yes, let’s go.”
I follow her outside Pritpal’s studio and into the main house. We walk and walk through winding hallways until we finally reach a dark staircase. We must walk down something like six flights of stairs when we finally reach what is most probably the only seedy room in the house. The lighting is fluorescent and the floor is cement and in the centre stands a boxing ring. A door stands ajar in the back of the room. I look to Miss Stone, but she was already walking up the stairs. I guess this problem is for me to solve. I ease forward. What’s behind door number one? I move more swiftly towards the door and peer behind it. Great. He’s sound asleep. “Excuse me. Mister? I’m Vera. Miss Stone brought me here.” Nothing. “Hello?” Nothing. He is remarkably handsome, hair shaved short with a short beard and a labret piercing. His face is beautifully symmetrical with high cheekbones and a heavy-set jaw. He must be about 6’2”. He is very well built but not overtly big. Will he ever wake up? I reach forward to shake him and he grabs me! Before I know it I am kicking and punching – I’ve kicked his privates twice and gouged him in the eyes. When he starts laughing, I stop. “You pass the first test,” he shouts in a rich Irish accent, as he lies on the floor in a heap.
“I beg yours? You mean to say this was a test? Excuse me, mister. But, I don’t like to be tested, least of all by people I don’t know.”
“Well,” he stands up, rubbing his eyes, “I am sorry girly, but on your little mission, people will be testing you all the time – people you don’t know. Anyway, you kicked my ass. I let ya,” he grinned, “but, point is, “you did. You are ready to learn to fight, like a man.” This comment is followed by another stupid grin. “Let’s kiss and make up,” he puts his hands out for a hug, “I’m Rick McGimley.”
I stand, my hand stretched out. “No hugs Rick,” I smile, “I may have damaged your manhood. But, you’re not getting any pity hugs.” We both laugh and he shakes my hand. “Right!” I love the way he rolls his r’s. It seems that, in every sense, he is the opposite of Sunriseinsurance. I hate to admit that I like it. “You know, I love that Pritpal. He seems to think that yoga nonsense gets you fit. Ha! Well let’s just see,” he hands me a skipping rope, “jump girlfriend! Jump! Jump! Jump!” I jump until I’m blue in the face, until it feels like there is no more blood in my legs. I jump. And jump. And then when I think it’s over, I do sit ups and push ups and lunges and squats. I go and I go and I go. “How are those little lungs feeling? Wish you didn’t smoke?” We must have been going for two hours. I looked him in the eye: “Hell no! It’s the one guilty pleasure that I’ve got left.”
Rick flashed me his trademark grin: “Well let’s have a break and light up.” The nicotine seemed to hit my blood faster with my heart pumping at such a rate. Rick goes over to a chute in the wall and out materialises a platter with food which he called, “Fuel for fighting.”
We eat together and he asks me questions, mostly about my story – where I come from, why I’m here. I answer everything truthfully. I feel good now that I’ve eaten. “You need to digest your food. What you want to do? You can nap. I can call for a little station to be set up for you here to read. We can watch a movie – there’s a room you’re yet to see.”
“Well, let’s go and see. I’m sure as hell not getting any down time in here.” I looked at him; something told me I was getting myself into trouble.
We went into the room in which Rick had been sleeping and only now did I notice a black door on the other side of the room. His room was filled with overflowing ashtrays. Yet, he still kept his charm. He opened the door and I walked through. Half of the room was a library and the other half was a home theatre with huge couches. I wanted books. I craved books. But, the idea of sitting on the couch next to this man simply overpowered everything. I turned to him, “Why are you here?”
“Miss Stone found me on a trip to Ireland. I was probably the best fighter in the country but you see – I was caught in a vicious cycle. I was fighting for my next fix. I had no family and friends. And by the time she got to me, I was losing fights. I was frail. I wasn’t eating. And I was psychotic. She asked me if I wanted to get clean. I said yes. I don’t remember much after that, but she brought me here after that. I detoxed. I had help from the best doctors. I worked a lot with Pritpal. I’ve always been free to go. But, I like it here. She’s never asked anything from me, until now.” He paused and searched my eyes. His eyes were big and brown. He smiled, “What shall we watch?”
I fell asleep during the movie – on his shoulder. I felt at home. It was different to Max – Max and I were bonded by how broken we were. Rick and I, well, we were both healing.
…
“Time to wake up,” Rick was whispering. We were lying on the couch and he was holding me. “I’m sorry; I didn’t wake you for our second session. It’s almost time for yoga.” He kissed my neck. “I’ve sent some clothes down and I’ve run you a bath.” For a man that had grabbed me less than 24 hours ago, he was being awfully gentle.
After my bath, he walks me to yoga. “Good morning Miss Vera! Rick. Ha! I see Miss Stone can predict the future. You two look great!”
Rick and I looked at each other and then we looked at Pritpal, “What the hell does that mean?” We shouted in unison. If I thought I had questions before: now I needed answers.
