Page 6 - Murder on the Dirigible

Murder on the Dirigible

VISHNANDA: (catches her by the hand) If you please, young
woman.

MACALLISTER: Oh! (pulls hand back) You startled me, Reverend.

VISHNANDA: Perhaps your mind was hastening far ahead of your
material body. One must train the senses to serve the cause of inner
truth and harmony, not to disrupt it. Yes. But I am not a minister
ordained in any of your Christian sects, and should not be addressed
as one: I am Swami Vishnanda. (Peabody turns to look at him)

MACALLISTER: Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Vishnanda. May I be
of service?

VISHNANDA: Yes, my young friend, and so can we all. This poor
tired old head of mine would rest so much more easily if it had but a
small pillow behind it. So many of our corporeal complaints can be
disregarded—nay, should be mentally overcome—in the quest for
spiritual liberation, but this one, I fear, is getting the better of me.

MACALLISTER: Well, don’t you worry, sir. I’ll be right back with
one of our Golden Cloud cushions, specially designed for these seats.
(walks to rear of cabin, passing Pomello, who lifts glass)

POMELLO: Here’s mud in your eye! Great orange juice you have on
this airship, Miss Stewardess! (goes to seat)

PEABODY: (to Vishnanda) A heathen! I knew the Devil was near!
(crosses herself) Don’t you try to touch me, you monster!

VISHNANDA: Madam, let me assure you: I am the least devilish of
men. Indeed, I do not reject your Christian virtues and practices of
mercy and piety and—of course!—charity. My faith, however, has
transcended the historical drama of sin and redemption. The universe
presents an unchanging pattern of cause and effect, cloaked by the
illusions of sentient beings. One must look further East than
Jerusalem for inspiration and illumination; as for the Devil, one need
not search beyond the confines of one’s own imagination.

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