i could hear madhuris voice again , reading to me by the watery light of a candle , sitting on her small stool by my bed , me under the cover , eyes wide and staring at the ceiling , seeing nothing of the room , seeing only the story as it unfolded in madhuris beautiful sky of a voice , breathing trees and rivers and kings and princesses and battles so clearly that i could hear the men shout and could almost feel the cuts of swords , so clearly that i could smell the lotus petals as they fell from the exquisite hands of maidens onto clear pool water in preparation for lord krishnas bath .