"Don't worry" he said, "You needn't say a word.
I'll tell them you're my student from India."
Long black hair wrapped about her waist like a sari.
Her skin radiated the heat of too much 'pitta'.
Her gaze could sharpen a ceremonial katar
cleanly stabbed into the heart.
A devadesi*danced graceful like the sacred fire of the mandir
and with the grounding strength of the Earth.
She taught him the*spiritual bliss of the*sutras
an infinite moan his mantra.
No, not a word was needed
for she was not a student.
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