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"Alright, how you entered a closed section I can somewhat figure out. Did you divert the security's attention?" Bhima searchingly looked at Sergey.
"Something like that, " Sergey confirmed.
"And how did you find them? Lila stayed here. Did she mentally show them to you?"
"You got it. At work, they were always amazed by my sense of thieves. But it's not about the sense. God marks the crook. 'THIEF' is written on them."
"It's written just like that? I've never heard such a thing."
"It's written above their heads, 'THIEF.' Above a Russian thief's head, it's written in Russian. American thief's – in English. It's pretty elementary for someone who can see the aura well."
"It must be quite a treat to look at people. So many thieves everywhere," Bhima pondered.
"Some steal more, some less. I can see it right away," Sergey said without much enthusiasm.
"Where can one find big-time crooks the most?"
"On TV, of course," Sergey chuckled.
"I must warn you," Bhima suddenly leaned towards Sergey and whispered in his ear, "Two women are approaching us. Don't you set any hopes for the younger one. Better yet, just pretend you are not smitten. Save you from trouble down the road."
Sergey, bewildered, first looked at Bhima, and then at the two women approaching them. Wherever they passed, the men, regardless of age, followed them with their eyes, and women simply froze. The mother and the daughter were both, in their own way, stunning. Tall and noble, they were walking in a leisurely and dignified fashion, as if there were no fuss reigning all around and no crowds. Like this was not the departure hall, but a throne hall where the queen mother and princess daughter were receiving dignitary guests.
"Good morning Bhima! Mommy, please have a seat," said the younger woman.
Bhima's face was blooming with joy. He jumped off his seat and dragged his friend along. "Hello, my dear sister!" His voice sounded jubilant. Then he turned to the mother and hugged her, "Tamila Yuryevna, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, dear. They talked me into going."
"That's fantastic!" Bhima continued, "Tamila Yuryevna, please meet Sergey, my new friend from Krasnodar. It's his first trip to India too."
"It's very nice to meet you, young man. How did you end up becoming a Hindu?"
"Mom," the young woman said reproachfully. "Not everyone is a Communist and a Russian Orthodox like you."
"Alright, alright." Tamila Yuryevna looked slightly flustered. "What to do? That's how my generation is. Young man, please don't take it to heart."
"Sergey, this is Milita, my sister's best friend, which means, she's also my sister. And her lovely mother, my beloved auntie, Tamila Yuryevna." Bhima gestured for Sergey to get closer.
Milita mindfully looked at Sergey.
"Sergey, wake up," Bhima pinched Sergey, then hopelessly brushed his hand and growled, "Do you remember what I asked you?"
Sergey was not paying attention to Bhima. He was gazing at Milita in silence.
"At last, we meet in this lifetime, my baby brother," Milita said softly.
Sergey felt her voice was trembling with emotions. Tamila Yuryevna and Bhima, surprised, stared at each other.
"What do you mean?" Sergey regained his ability to speak.
"Nothing special," Milita shrugged, "It's just that you and I were brother and sister in many lifetimes before. And I was always your big sister.
"You," Sergey exhaled. Something unprecedented was happening to him. He wanted to sing and jump in celebration of meeting her. It was the joy of meeting a very, very close friend, who he knew for millions of years and hasn't seen in an insanely long time.
Milita smiled, "Shall we sit down? We're attracting attention."
Sergey fell into a seat and bewilderingly said under his breath, "I can't believe it!"
"By the way," Milita settled next to Sergey, "My personality hasn't changed much since past lives. So get ready for some big sister slapping."
"Of course," Sergey readily responded and turned to Bhima, "Why did you not warn me you have a sister like that? What if I had a heart attack?"
"But you didn't," Bhima replied and then whispered. "I am going to warn you about something else. Milita is also a descendant of an ancient royal bloodline. That's why, even now, chastity for her is not just a word. Just so you know, if you want to shake her hand, you have to ask whether it's okay for you to touch her. It is only permitted to a father, brother, husband, and son."
"Is she married?”
"She is. Her son is seventeen. Ha! You were wondering how old she is? Twenty-three? She is forty-one. She is crazy in love with her husband. Don't you even think about hitting on her! Nobody has ever escaped from her anger. There was this mystic tantric trying to make advances. He even threatened to cast a spell. Or rob her of her beauty. Or kill her husband. You know, mystics in Orissa are something else! You should have seen what happened to him a month later. His parents brought him, barely alive, to her, to beg for forgiveness."
"What is Orissa?" This name sounded new, yet somehow familiar to Sergey.
"A state in Eastern India. Milita lives there with her husband and son. And now they have convinced her mom to come for a visit."
"Are they not traveling with us?"
"No. We're going to Vrindavan, and they are off to Puri. But we'll definitely visit them."
"Are mystics in Orissa really that advanced?"
"Yes, really. Orissa is one of the most mystical states in India"
"Was anyone else threatening Milita afterward?"