Hawksworth scratched his head in silent confoundment. Kamala watched him, then sighed and resumed her seat on the floor.
"Then just try to feel what I am saying. Words really cannot express these ideas as well as dance. When we dance we invoke the energy, and the life force, that moves through the world, outside its great cycles of time."
Hawksworth picked up his wineglass and drew on it. "To tell the truth, I find your Hindu symbols a trifle abstract."
"But they're not, really. They merely embody truths already within us. Like the life force. We do not have to think about it. It's simply there. And we can reach out and experience this force when woman and man join together in union. That is our lila, our play. That's why we worship Lord Shiva with dance, and with kama."
As Hawksworth watched, sipping his wine and scarcely understanding her words, he realized he had begun to desire this bizarre woman intensely.
"You haven't told me what kama is."
"That's because I'm not sure you can understand." She scrutinized him professionally. "How old are you?"
"I'm closer to forty than thirty."
"Time, I think, has treated you harshly. Or is it the spirits you drink?"
"What's wrong with a bit of grog now and then?"