girls alike, dressed in the saffron robes of sannyasi , Indian ascetics. These were raising the musical din, clanging kartal cymbals, thumping mridansa drums with the heels of their hands, blowing wood flutes and singing songs of praise.
And behind came the evident object of that praise: a joker with an opulent belly spilling over a simple loincloth. His head was the head of an elephant, with one tusk. He carried a parasol in his trunk to shade himself. He rode a giant white rat whose eyes were the color of blood.
"Now, that's something you don't see every day," JJ Flash remarked to the air.
And way down inside him, a voice breathed, Ganesha. Oh, wow.
Oblivious, the cavalcade danced straight up to the flank of the BMP. The Apsarases - as JJ recalled the celestial babes were called - winged out to either side and froze into pretty curtsies, still in midair. Ganesha dismounted and danced up to the half-track.
"Please to vacate your vehicle immediately," he sang, "for I have no wish to put you at risk of harm."
The vehicle commander blinked down at him.
A fall of flowers rained upon Ganesha's elephant head, from a point in the air about three feet above the crown.
That did it. The President of Free Vietnam had made good on the hollow promise of the former Socialist Republic, turning Vietnam into a haven for the oppressed wild cards of the world - and damned near all of them were , by now. Cops who could not contain that customary Asian distaste for human deformity which animated today's mob had been booted off the force long since. So jokers did not particularly bother the APC commander. And he didn't know squat about the Hindu religion, so he had no idea he was being confronted by the spitting image of an actual god , offspring of Shiva and Parvati.
But flowers materializing in midair ... that got his attention. He yelped into his intercom and unassed his track right smart, followed in short order by the other two crew.
Ganesha smiled. "Know that I am the Remover of Obstacles," he sang in his high, pure voice. His acolytes cheered. The Apsarases beamed celestially. The rat sat on his haunches and cleaned his whiskers. His incisors were the color of the acolytes' robes.
Ganesha put forth his hands, pressed plump palms to the hot metal skin of the armored carrier. The vehicle shimmered and vanished. A gust of wind blew outward into the faces of the mob and the blank camera eyes. It smelled vaguely of sandalwood.
A single sigh rose up from the crowd on either side of the police line.
"I'll be dipped in shit," JJ Flash announced, "and fried for a corn dog."
Ganesha danced forward, through the space where the BMP had been. The rat waddled behind, and then the Floating Celestial Babes fell in, and the yellowrobe acolytes, singing and tootling up a storm. The crowd bolted away from the guru, front ranks battling those behind in their frenzy to get away from this apparition who could make fourteen and half metric tons of armored fighting vehicle disappear. Not to mention the rat.
Ganesha raised a plump hand, first two fingers extended. "Peace," he declared, in a voice both penetrant and musical. "Peace - and love. These are the tidings I bear you."
More flowers rained upon the mob. The protestors quit trying to escape, turned back to stare in wonder.
Ganesha strode into the crowd, straight up to a sullen man, big for a Vietnamese, who stood with his shirttail out, his bangs in his eyes, and a length of lumber in one hand. He had come prepared to crack joker heads.
"I am a joker," the guru sang, "and a holy fool. He who would harm any of the Lord Krishna's children, let him first strike me."
His merry eyes met those of the club-wielder. "Strike, my child, if that is what you will. No harm shall come to you."
The aspiring joker-basher dropped to his knees and began to weep. Ganesha laid a soft hand upon his head. The crying stopped.
"My peace upon you, child," he said, and passed on, into the heart of the mob. It gave
And behind came the evident object of that praise: a joker with an opulent belly spilling over a simple loincloth. His head was the head of an elephant, with one tusk. He carried a parasol in his trunk to shade himself. He rode a giant white rat whose eyes were the color of blood.
"Now, that's something you don't see every day," JJ Flash remarked to the air.
And way down inside him, a voice breathed, Ganesha. Oh, wow.
Oblivious, the cavalcade danced straight up to the flank of the BMP. The Apsarases - as JJ recalled the celestial babes were called - winged out to either side and froze into pretty curtsies, still in midair. Ganesha dismounted and danced up to the half-track.
"Please to vacate your vehicle immediately," he sang, "for I have no wish to put you at risk of harm."
The vehicle commander blinked down at him.
A fall of flowers rained upon Ganesha's elephant head, from a point in the air about three feet above the crown.
That did it. The President of Free Vietnam had made good on the hollow promise of the former Socialist Republic, turning Vietnam into a haven for the oppressed wild cards of the world - and damned near all of them were , by now. Cops who could not contain that customary Asian distaste for human deformity which animated today's mob had been booted off the force long since. So jokers did not particularly bother the APC commander. And he didn't know squat about the Hindu religion, so he had no idea he was being confronted by the spitting image of an actual god , offspring of Shiva and Parvati.
But flowers materializing in midair ... that got his attention. He yelped into his intercom and unassed his track right smart, followed in short order by the other two crew.
Ganesha smiled. "Know that I am the Remover of Obstacles," he sang in his high, pure voice. His acolytes cheered. The Apsarases beamed celestially. The rat sat on his haunches and cleaned his whiskers. His incisors were the color of the acolytes' robes.
Ganesha put forth his hands, pressed plump palms to the hot metal skin of the armored carrier. The vehicle shimmered and vanished. A gust of wind blew outward into the faces of the mob and the blank camera eyes. It smelled vaguely of sandalwood.
A single sigh rose up from the crowd on either side of the police line.
"I'll be dipped in shit," JJ Flash announced, "and fried for a corn dog."
Ganesha danced forward, through the space where the BMP had been. The rat waddled behind, and then the Floating Celestial Babes fell in, and the yellowrobe acolytes, singing and tootling up a storm. The crowd bolted away from the guru, front ranks battling those behind in their frenzy to get away from this apparition who could make fourteen and half metric tons of armored fighting vehicle disappear. Not to mention the rat.
Ganesha raised a plump hand, first two fingers extended. "Peace," he declared, in a voice both penetrant and musical. "Peace - and love. These are the tidings I bear you."
More flowers rained upon the mob. The protestors quit trying to escape, turned back to stare in wonder.
Ganesha strode into the crowd, straight up to a sullen man, big for a Vietnamese, who stood with his shirttail out, his bangs in his eyes, and a length of lumber in one hand. He had come prepared to crack joker heads.
"I am a joker," the guru sang, "and a holy fool. He who would harm any of the Lord Krishna's children, let him first strike me."
His merry eyes met those of the club-wielder. "Strike, my child, if that is what you will. No harm shall come to you."
The aspiring joker-basher dropped to his knees and began to weep. Ganesha laid a soft hand upon his head. The crying stopped.
"My peace upon you, child," he said, and passed on, into the heart of the mob. It gave
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