Today Manus greeted me with a look of concern. “Are you ok” he asked solicitously. With a smile, I nodded that I was fine and I asked him if I could possibly change my room to one that had hot water. Happy to be able to accommodate me in some way, he checked several rooms to establish which would offer me this small creature comfort. I followed him to the store room where I collected a set of clean sheets and a blanket, as the nights have turned cold. Manus in his quiet manner, expressed his feeling of regret for what had occurred. “ This happened because you were unconscious “ he declared. “It is important that you are conscious at all times, particularly in the handling of money. I am sad that this has happened to you my daughter.” His lilting voice carried a note of genuine concern and I was touched.
Armed with a key to my new room and an armful of linen, I proceeded to transfer my belongings. It felt good to be occupied as it took my mind away from the incident and the sinking feeling that was gnawing inside. I now had a desk and a chair, both borrowed from Sridhar 's old room. I had all the comforts that the ashram could feasibly offer me. In this I was satisfied. Moving was hot work and gave me the perfect excuse to christen the shower. The hot water poured over me and for a moment I just stood there, drowning in the familiarity of it. At last I felt liberated from the dust and grime that is ingrained into my feet. But, I cannot wash off the stain of India. Her soil draws lines in the soles of my feet, marking the topography of my journey. This map, like the mendhi painted on the palm of a new bride, delineates my journey and binds me to a path that is predestined.
I am forced to surrender to the vicissitudes of life and all that may come. It is both the magic and the adversity that lie at the center of this web. Stark naked, I can only sit and wait for what must inevitably manifest in the weaving of this dream. The loom of time casts its own stitches in the torn fabric of the sack cloth in which I carry these few possessions; of flesh and bone and sinew. And the river that flows within me, deep and red, and pulsing with life, enters the cosmic dance, guided by the rhythmic shimmer of the moon. Black and mysterious, I await the full bloom of her silvery light, to illumine my way.
The anxiety that had arisen in me slowly dissipates as I simply accept where I am at this present time. Gone, is the wanting and the desire to know. Remarkably, I am unconcerned about the future. The bank card will arrive, and I will re-chart my course in accordance with the movement of the current, that is coursing through my life. Some call it fate, other say it is grace and others still, speak of karma. At worst it was simply bad luck.
Today, Prema and I again visit her friend the sadhu, whose name I have discovered is Chidananda. We find him at home. With a wave, he hustles us into his tiny hut that is now very clean and tidy, thanks to the efforts of the woman we encountered there last week. She is he informed us a very wealthy person, with many acres of farm land that produces several types of crops. The luncheon that she sponsored was a tremendous success and he had been received like royalty. Off course, he is very self deprecating when he speaking of himself. But it is clear that others look upon him as a very wise and gracious man.
He served up black coffee and biscuits and opened our discussion with talk about the state of ones mind. He warned that it is vital that we are conscious at all times in both our thoughts and our actions. “When we are unconscious, he said, then we find ourselves out of rhythm with nature. The mind wants to wander in pursuit of what it craves and avoidance of what it repels. And in this we become unconscious. You must take hold of your mind and remain conscious at all times.” It was as though he knew about the events that had transpired. Again I had been given the message to remain present.
Our time with Chidananda, was special, and I feel truly privileged to have met him. A man with no outward expression of desire, who accepts what is metered out to him. What need he asked, has he of rubies and emeralds. His mother in the form of the goddess Kali, provides all that he needs. She asks only that he remain true in his devotion. “All too often, desperate men avow their love for god, placing their heart upon the alter; only to take it back when god has interceded on their behalf.” This he asserts, is the failing of men. Such was the nature of our discussion. I asked Chidananda if he would be willing to be interviewed and he has consented. Next time I will take my camera, and I hope to illicit from him the story of how he became a renounciate.
A new group of guests have arrived at the ashram, but I have no interest in making new friends. I smile politely, and escape to the sanctuary of my room. Perhaps tomorrow I will feel differently, for now I am happy to keep my own company.
P.S. Please forgive me as my entries have become scattered and follow no chronological order. I will try to rectify this.
No comments:
Post a Comment