River Mantra

By Julie-Anne Geddes

River Mantra

Of Nepalese and Indian descent, Shyam faces losing Grace, the wife he loves unswervingly. Desperate to save his failing marriage, he must grapple with elusive love, as well as his distant and recent past.

His erotic journey traverses cultural, spiritual and sexual boundaries and weaves across three continents. Unsure of his roots and what is expected of him, Shyam discovers a delightful relationship with a river in Nepal. His sensual meditation with the river brings solace to his fragmented self.

The comfort of his river and the gentle rehearsal of love with three unique women help him become a better man but, like a river, the journey to redemptive love takes treacherous twists and turns. Does he discover the real meaning and beauty of love, or will the cost be too great?

An erotically intriguing narrative of love and obsession that does not escape the ruse of fate and destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CUSTOM BOOK PUBLICATIONS
• Release date: Apr 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311082916

Julie-Anne Geddes

Julie-Anne Geddes has lived most of her life in Sydney, where she was born. Recently, she moved to Wollongong, on the South Coast of New South Wales where she now lives with her partner of twenty-five years and their four children - two boys and two girls, aged between ten and twenty-one. The Author graduated from Macquarie University with a Bachelor of Arts (Psychology) in 1995. During 1996 she completed a Narrative Therapy Professional Development Course. She attained a Masters of Arts (Forensic Psychology) in 1997; an Honours Masters degree in Counselling in 2005; and a Masters of Creative writing in 2010. Julie-Anne has worked as a Family Support Worker, a Counsellor with adolescents who have sexually abused others; as a dual diagnosis counsellor at a youth service in Redfern, Sydney and as a Trauma Counsellor. She has also been a trainer in Narrative Therapy. Currently, Julie-Anne runs her own private psychology practice in Wollongong where she especially enjoys assisting couples in developing their relationships. When not counselling, she enjoys reading novels, playing piano, painting, writing, walking along the beach, the bush, whale watching, looking after dogs, chickens and ducks, meditation, spirituality and loving her partner, children, family and friends.

Book preview

River Mantra

Of Nepalese and Indian descent, Shyam faces losing Grace, the wife he loves unswervingly. Desperate to save his failing marriage, he must grapple with elusive love, as well as his distant and recent past.

His erotic journey traverses cultural, spiritual and sexual boundaries and weaves across three continents. Unsure of his roots and what is expected of him, Shyam discovers a delightful relationship with a river in Nepal. His sensual meditation with the river brings solace to his fragmented self.

The comfort of his river and the gentle rehearsal of love with three unique women help him become a better man but, like a river, the journey to redemptive love takes treacherous twists and turns. Does he discover the real meaning and beauty of love, or will the cost be too great?

An erotically intriguing narrative of love and obsession that does not escape the ruse of fate and destiny.

Also by this Author

A THOUSAND WAYS TO SUSTAIN LOVE…

This book is more than a self-help book, it is a comprehensive compendium on ways to love.

Love is the heart, soul and backbone of humanity. Love is necessary for humanity to survive, for children to grow, and for relationships to flourish. We are all capable of healthy, compassionate and wonderful relationships beyond what we already know.

We cannot think outside of what we can imagine or know. We need to be shown and taught so we can learn more.

If you choose to love then this book will assist you to extend your knowledge of love and, if you allow it, take you beyond your love boundaries to a place where your relationships can soar. The potential for transformation beyond your wildest dreams is possible.

When our best thoughts and actions are aligned with all we prefer, then we feel comfortable in our own skin. We can then possess an amazing ability to love ourselves; love others; love our families; strangers and the world.

Over one thousand ways to think about love and to act lovingly are provided in this book.

This book can change your world!

About the Author

Julie-Anne Geddes has lived most of her life in Sydney, where she was born. Recently, she moved to Wollongong, on the South Coast of New South Wales where she now lives with her partner of twenty-six years and their four children - two boys and two girls, aged between eleven and twenty-one.

The Author graduated from Macquarie University with a Bachelor of Arts (Psychology) in 1995. During 1996 she completed a Narrative Therapy Professional Development Course. She attained a Masters of Arts (Forensic Psychology) in 1997; an Honours Masters degree in Counselling in 2005; and a Masters of Creative writing in 2010.

When not counselling, she enjoys reading novels, playing piano, painting, writing, walking along the beach, the bush, whale watching, looking after dogs, chickens and ducks, meditation, spirituality and loving her partner, children, family and friends.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost I need to give special thanks to Wendy Laharnar – author of The Unhewn Stone – who generously gave her time freely to advise me in the craft of writing. She also proof read and suggested changes. Wendy’s skill as a writer has meant this work is so much better. She has assisted many writers on their journey to a publication. Thanks also to Ted Laharnar who supports Wendy to do what she does best. They are both the salt of the earth.

River Mantra began as an assignment towards a Masters of Creative Writing at Canberra University. Therefore, I acknowledge the University and the tutors and lecturers who taught on the course back in 2008 - 2010.

It is difficult to find a publisher for a novella so I sincerely thank Custom Books for publishing this work and for their editing, care and professionalism.

I would like to also thank my family: Trevor, Ebony, Liam, Gabriella and Finn. They always provide encouragement and have told me they would prefer have a mother who writes novels and poems than live in a clean house. Having said that, it’s not only the mother’s responsibility to do the cleaning! Thanks also to my parents, Norma and John Geddes, who have always supported everything I do.

Copyright © 2015 Julie-Anne Geddes

All the characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

River MANTRA

by

Julie Anne Geddes

CHAPTER ONE

Grace sits under a mimosa tree reading a novel. We live in Nepal for now. There’s a rustic white garden chair, in need of sanding, beside her. The chair will never be sanded because it is lovely just as it is. Grace has chosen the soft velvety moss to sit upon. Pinkish-red mimosa blossoms have fallen from the tree and they rest here and there around her. Mountain peaks and ruffled clouds sulk like giant centurions in the sky high above us. My love for her swells like pride.

She seems unaware of how desirable she is and the cravings she brings forth in my body. Even after seven years of marriage she has the power to undo me in an instant. My lip quivers as the sun spills through the branches and she is brushed with swirling Nepali beams in a web of shadows. Her shiny thick sable hair, streaked with copper, reflects the mottled sunlight. The firm outline of her naked body is softened by a veil of sheer white muslin sarong dappled by the light.

She is pure sweetness to me and my mind can taste the soft buttery water of her.

I stroll closer to the gnarly trunk of the mimosa tree and sit beside her. She sighs and flicks the page of her paperback novel.

Blossoms from the mimosa skitter every time the breeze picks up. What to say to her? How to tell her of my unswerving love and desire for her, how to tell her how sorry I am; how beautiful she is; how intelligent she is? I’ll do anything for her and be anything for her.

‘What’s the book?’ I venture.

Grace turns her head and smiles weakly.

In the morning sunlight her eyes are turquoise with lemon flecks.

Her exotic look comes from her mixed heritage of an English father and an Indian mother, Eurasian. My wife is flawless and she does not answer me. She does not appear a day over twenty, yet she is thirty. She gives her attention back to the book.

My hand finds a way under the skirt of her sarong and I gently and slowly stroke her leg.

‘Not now’, she huffs. ‘I’m reading.’

‘When… it’s been ages?’

‘Tonight Shyam, maybe tonight.’

She’s reading Chocolat by Joanna Harris.

Since her face stays buried in the novel I decide to go down to the milky river and swim among the reeds, leaving my white t-shirt beside her bare feet.

I leave on my jeans and wade into the ancient water. Some of this water tumbles down from the melting snow-capped mountains. The mountains stand like giants beyond the alpine plains and the gentle hills forested with pine trees and flaming red rhododendrons.

White pebbles, specked with sky blue reflections, feel smooth as they massage my hardened soles. Buddha and the river remind me to bring dignity to the present moments and to plod sensually through life.

Waist deep in the water, I dive down and grip tightly to a bunch of slimy reeds, my shoulder length hair floats up around me. There are hundreds of bubbles of light shimmering through the foggy darkness.

Within the deep silence, in an unknown language, the voice of the gushing river attempts to comfort me.

The icy water does little to quench my sexual yearning for her. To dwell here forever, submerged in the river earth, blending my nature with river nature, belonging to the river, is something familiar. My lungs strain, so a hand from heaven hauls me upwards and the clean air is showered with the river’s ancient spray.

I am fully alive, and at last my penis has wilted. Pondering the spire-like clouds as they swirl and whirl above, floating breathlessly on my back, Nepal inspires me.

My faltering marriage is as icy as the water, yet the river makes everything more bearable. I try to believe all is well with the world. Thankfully, Nepal’s ten year civil war is over and people can move on with their grief. Suffering is the easy part. Being happy is truly difficult. The people who can be happy in the face of suffering, they are the brilliant ones. The Nepali people seem good at it. The trill of the river whispers to me, you can be like them.

We live on these five acres now, so peaceful and private, so mysterious and heartbreakingly beautiful. Sangita, our domestic help, has the day off. The day is perfect for making love. My desperation for intimacy saps all my energy!

Making my way to our stone homestead, flanked with wide verandas, prayer flags, a corrugated tin roof and dishevelled gardens, I resolve not to give up. There’s an old worn rope hammock on the veranda swinging slightly, the water from my wet jeans and hair drips onto the rustic floorboards. The hammock creaks as I lower myself into it. I close my eyes and the warm air strokes my skin. The hammock and gentle breeze rock me like a baby. It’s a suntrap on this part of the veranda where the hammock hangs, where imaginings of my somnolent grandfather lazing here back in his day, turn to imaginings of beautiful Grace naked and desperately wanting me.

The hammock is now still and quiet. The valley is silent. I float into dreamland as the prayer flags swish.

On opening my eyes, the sun is setting. It’s an enchanting moment hanging scrumptiously between day and night. The Nepal countryside is brushed with gold flecks. My jeans still feel damp and tight from the river water. The rope from the hammock has pressed into the skin on my back. Like a blind man I run my fingers along the checkered pattern. So quiet and eerie, the insects have not started yet. There is no birdsong. Not even the hens are clucking. The smell of rain hangs in the air.

The rainy season has ended and we are in the Nepali autumn. Still, it may rain yet.

I shower in the outdoors washroom and wrap an orangey-red sarong around my waist. A goat bleats somewhere in the yonder.

Grace must still be down under the mimosa tree.

Walking through the mosaic shadows of the house, my hopes for a romantic evening rise and then are dashed by her note, on a sheet of paper left on the roughly-hewn old wooden kitchen table.

Shyam,

I’ve gone to Kathmandu. I’ll stay at the hotel with the ex-pats. There’s some shopping I want to do. Sweet dreams. Back tomorrow.

Grace x

My gut