Three-Legged Elephant

by Sean Arena (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find India

The ferry from the Gateway of India was about three dollars with the exchange rate. Serena paid the extra fee to sit on the upper deck. Jocelyn and I followed suit. The wind was cool on my skin and provided a much-needed reprieve from the furnace of the city. After an hour of crawling across the bay, Elephanta Island loomed over us. The island's dock only had one berth and the ferries played a game of bumper boats, lining up side-by-side. Next was a precarious obstacle course of gangplanks through the ferries. One wrong move and you were in the water, crushed between ferries. A moustached guard stood by the turnstile, checking bags for spray paint. The temple was at the top of the mountain, up a staircase of a thousand steps. The exhaustion set in before we began. Soon vendor stalls appeared out of thin air. The crowd piled on the beaded jewelry, handwoven scarves, and mementoes for the journey we’d only just begun. Tarps covered the path to protect us from the rain and the monkeys, who were a little grabby. The humidity fogged my glasses. Jocelyn and Serena disappeared into the crowd. The riptide pushed me further and further away until I felt the sea part. The crowd split into two lanes around an old woman, unfazed by the traffic. Her hair was stark white with a few remaining streaks of grey and black. Her frayed red and gold sari shone like the sun after a rainy day. I caught the gaze of her green eyes. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, revealing a few missing teeth. She shoved something cold into my hand - something made of stone - and slipped past me. As my eyes met my palm, there sat a limestone elephant no bigger than a thimble. It was missing a hind leg. I turned on my heel, but the woman was gone. The parted sea had closed up and the traffic was pushing me back down the stairs. I moved to the side and held the three-legged elephant up to the light leaking in. The side with the missing leg was clean, sharp; the other side dark with edges smoothed down by time. At the top of the mountain, the mouth of the black caves was at the end of a cobble-stone path. Four stone pillars greeted visitors as they crossed the threshold. Beyond the entrance was complete darkness. Your eyes adjust once you wander in the pitch dark long enough. That's when you see them. Shadows danced over the basalt walls and the beautiful shrines to Shiva came alive. To my right, two parents and their toddler stared up at the walls. The caves led to a gorge at the heart of the mountain. I stood at its center, the sun on my face. The slightest movement ricocheted off the black walls. It was loud and quiet at the same time. I reached into my pocket and ran my finger over where the elephant's missing leg was once attached. I'd never felt more anxious and out of place, yet so at peace and at home. The next crowd poured into the gorge, but my feet stayed planted. I grasped the elephant tighter. Serena put her hand on my arm. Time to go. The claustrophobic ride across the bay wore down Jocelyn’s patience and my attempts at easing her irritation backfired. Those moments of peace on the island fell away. Careful not to elbow fellow passengers, I reached into my pocket. My heart froze in the half-second before my fingers brushed the elephant's trunk. I pulled it from my pocket. Inspecting it in the light of the setting sun, I could see every intricate detail. The ferry docked in the main harbor as the sun slipped behind the horizon. The city's nightlife was waking up. Cab's sped up to departing passengers, hustling for fares. Street carts peddled bottled water and fresh mango. Photographers carrying their own printers offered three for one and two for five. Behind us the soft lapping of the ocean against the bulkhead. It was both loud and quiet at the same time.