But to be fair, I had written both the above posts after having read only Thirst No. 1, which contains the first three books – The Last Vampire, Black Blood, and Red Dice.
Then I picked up Thirst No. 2, which contains three more books – Phantom, Evil Thirst, and Creatures of Forever – and it has changed my life and soul in unimaginable ways.
In each and every one of these stories, there is at least one scene depicting Sita's interaction with Krishna. I have loved every scene. Heck, I have loved every word that Pike has written in these stories.
And then I read something that I didn't see coming at all. It drove me to tears, which drove me to write this post.
Without giving away any of the plots, imagine if you will an alternate Universe in which Sita is not turned into a vampire one fateful night five thousand years ago. Here is what transpires in that alternate scenario.
One moonless night, when I am twenty years of age, I am awakened by a sound outside. Besides me sleeps my husband, Rama, and on my other side is our daughter, Lalita. I don't know why the sound wakes me. It was not loud. But it was peculiar, the sound of nails scraping over a blade. I get up and go outside of my house in the dark and look around.
For a long time I stand there, expecting to meet someone.
But there is no one there.
Finally I return to my bed and fall asleep.
The next morning I am playing with my Lalita by the river when a strange man comes by. He is tall and powerfully built. In his right hand he holds a lotus flower, in his left a golden flute. His legs are long and his every movement is bewitching. I cannot help but stare at him, and I am delighted when he comes and kneels beside me on the bank of the river. For some reason, I know he means me no harm.
"Hello," he says, staring at the water. "How are you?"
"I am fine." I pause. "Do I know you, sir?"
A faint smile touches his lips. "Yes. We have met before."
I hesitate. He does seem familiar but I cannot place him.
"I am sorry, I don't remember," I say.
He finally looks at me and his eyes are very blue. They remind me of the stars at night; they seem to sparkle with light from the heavens. "My name is Krishna," he says.
I bow my head. "I am Sita. This is my daughter, Lalita. Are you new to this area?"
He turns back to the water. "I have been here before."
"Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like some food?"
He glances at me, out of the corners of his eyes, and I feel a thrill in my heart. There is such love in his glance, I don't understand how it can be so. "I was wondering if I could do anything for you, Sita," he says.
"My Lord?" I ask, and I feel he is deserving of the title.
He shrugs faintly. "I merely came to see if you were happy. If you are, then I will be on my way."
I have to laugh. "My Lord, I am not long married. My husband is a wonderful man whom I love dearly and God has seen fit to grace us with a beautiful child. We are all healthy and have plenty to eat. I cannot imagine being any happier than I am right now."
He nods briefly and then stands. "Then I will say goodbye, Sita."
But I jump up. "You came all the way here just to see if I was happy?"
"Yes." His eyes are kind as he looks at me for the last time. "Your happiness is all that matters to me. Remember me, Sita."
Then he walks away and I never see him again.
But I never forget him. Krishna.
~ An excerpt from Creatures of Forever, Thirst No. 2 by Christopher Pike
I read these lines and I cried. I cried for a Krishna of my own. A divine being who'd come to check in on me and assure me that all they care about is my happiness.
Contemporary wisdom would tell me if I wanted to find the divine, I'd have to look for it within myself. I'd have to become the divine myself, and forget about my happiness but go about being the divine person who cares about nothing else but the happiness of all the other people in their life.
But I'm only human.
There are days, many many days of despair and despondency, in which I wish to be looked after and cherished and loved, the way an infant is usually showered with love and attention, at least in the first few days or weeks or months or years after birth, depending on how lucky he/she is.
Is that too much to ask for? A glimpse of my own personal Krishna?
Even as I write these words, tears well into my eyes because I do have not one but two personal Krishnas in my home. KrA and D. Two beloved beings who understand that right now, my heart will bleed all evening if I didn't come here to type these words out pronto.
Now I wipe my tears so I may see more clearly the blessings I already have in this precious life of mine.
And even as I spend this New Year's Day evening with the two loves of my life, my heart will also beat for all that lies beyond this human realm. For now, I'll continue to seek that indescribable divinity in all the stories that have been told and in all the stories that are waiting to be told.
To be able to write and share a story is a genuine gift, not one to be sullied with doubt and fear. Now, thanks to Pike and Sita, I'll always remember that in my own writing endeavours this year.