Chapter One

c h a p t e r 1
L a k s h m i : F i r e

Parvati, please don't be afraid. I won't harm you. I'm Lakshmi, daughter of Sita. Remember Sita, my ma? Sita, your oldest sister who could hand loom the finest khadi in India? Yes, Sita. I'm Sita's daughter. I'm Sita's only daughter. Yes, I'm your niece. I mean, I was your niece. I'm glad you remember, Parvati. I'm happy to meet you finally. I'm Lakshmi. I mean, I was Lakshmi. We never met. I hope I don't frighten you talking to you in your dream.

Parvati, your brows are black horse-mane brushes, just as I've imagined, just like Ma's. May I sit down on the slope between your brows? I've run so many dream-miles in six days. My legs are screaming. It feels so good to sit down. I think better when I sit down, too. And I need to think better because I'm here to plant a dream that has a root cotton-thread long and intertwined. I'm also here to make a small request. Please stay asleep and hear me speak.

You know, Parvati, Ma talked about you often. Your bold charcoal eye liners, your strong coconut-oiled hair, your enormous second toes, your nine-inch palms, your cypress arms, your heavily ornate nose, your famous spit into what'shis-name's face, your going to secretarial school in Bombay, your brown hat fat cigar photograph, your wild love with a snake charmer despite his cobras, your rearing of a mongoose later, your first cigarette in the closet, your forgetting-ownstomach type of giving, your fire-speed wit, your straight face humor, your dreaming of a white elephant with wings, your marrying a Chinese man, your improvised golden red sari that fitted like pants, your diligent reading of western magazines under moonlight, you