CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

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On this, the third and final day of the triangulated meditation in the Sacred Forest, Satya’s husband felt more at peace with himself than he had in the previous two days of meditation. He had arrived at his own sense of oneness and alignment with his inner self.

He was receptive and open and unafraid. The Sadhu and the Swami set out a structure for the morning and the afternoon parts of this final meditation amongst the three elders. The Sadhu and the Swami suggested that in the morning meditation, Satya’s husband was now ready and receptive to reflect upon the passing of his dearly beloved Satya. Moreover, in the afternoon meditation, Satya’s husband should reflect upon the wonders of Nature and of Creation.

The three men began their morning meditation and Satya’s husband could feel the friendship and support of the Sadhu and the Swami as he reflected upon the deep loss of his beloved Satya. He thought first about the children she had brought into the world. Since some of their children were now grandparents, there was not a sense that either Satya or Satya’s husband would be missed on this physical plane of existence. The families and the legacies will continue to grow and to flourish and they will all have the added support and goodwill of his beloved friends, the Sadhu and the Swami.

He thought deeply about how much he missed Satya.

It made him sad. And yet, he also fondly recalled all of their sweet memories together and that infused his sadness with a soothing sweetness. It was within this bittersweet state that he remained throughout his meditation in the morning, until all three elders broke for their repast.

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Once again, there were honeyed parathas prepared by Satya’s husband’s daughters, together with sweetened wheat-cakes, and nuts and figs and a special treat made by his eldest daughter for his last day of meditation – fresh gulab jaman – his favorite dessert! As the three men feasted upon the deliciously sweet and sticky and syrupy gulab jaman, the Swami suggested that Satya’s husband spend the afternoon meditation session on his fondness of Nature. Then, the Sadhu added with a smile:

“Think back, as far back as you can, to your boyhood and what you most loved about Nature as a child.”

That afternoon, Satya’s husband thought back to his earliest memories as a child. He recalled how he loved to lay down flat on his back in the early morning dawn, in the dew dropped fresh green grass, and gazing up at the morning sky and the vast mountainous peaks of the glorious Himalayas.

He would daydream about traveling the world, and he would search the skies for the rare and beautifully colored Himalayan birds which loved to soar high up in the sky during the early morning dawn. When he spotted a bird he would pretend that he was flying alongside the bird, and sometime, that he himself was a bird, soaring high up in the sky, without a care in the world, free and full of endless adventure.

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It was then that the Sadhu broke the meditation and addressed Satya’s husband:

“You can fly. You can soar. You can travel to new lands and experience new adventures. Within the limitless freedom of your mind you are no longer restricted by a physical body. In your mind, you are no longer a chaiwalla and you no longer need to travel on a train or be a passenger on a train. You can go anywhere and do anything and look at the world from any view, even a birds eye view.”

Satya’s husband thought about this for a while and then, within his meditation, he contemplated the idea of flight and found that he could lift up his perspective just like the rare and colorful Himalayan birds he had admired as a child. He felt his mind lighten and his imagination heighten and soon he was fearlessly soaring in the sky and felt the presence of the clouds and even began to circle the Himalayan peaks in his mind. He felt the weight of his body begin to lighten and he began to have a sense of what it must be like to be in a matter-less state where there was only energy and only consciousness. He began to see that this was a weaning process whereby there is proportionately less matter and more energy depending upon one’s accepting the reality and tangibility of a free form matter-less state.

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His fear of death began to lessen as he considered the quantum metaphysical phenomena, and took the quantum leap in his intuition and trusted his intuition.

He was finally enjoying this new found meditative freedom, free of all earth bound weights and boundless freedom of adventure and exploration.

Satya’s husband spent the entire afternoon in this glorious state of blissfulness and when he and the Sadhu and the Swami broke their triangulated meditation for the third and final day, Satya’s husband felt refreshed and he felt liberated in both body and soul.

Before parting the Sacred Forest, the Sadhu had one last insight to share with Satya’s husband:

“When you are flying high in your consciousness and you begin to tire and feel weary and weak then do not be afraid. Just find a place that you would like to land and then land there and settle.”

With that, Satya’s husband embraced his beloved friend the Sadhu, and left the Sacred Forest with his other friend, the Swami.

The Swami walked Satya’s husband to his cottage, where Satya’s husband’s daughters were preparing a delicious feast of delicacies. Satya’s husband invited the Swami to join his family for dinner but the Swami declined since it was time for his evening prayers.

As they embraced a farewell, the Swami smilingly offered one last insight for Satya’s husband:

Remember that the Universe has a sense of harmony and a sense of humor. Most certainly you will meet your beloved Satya once again and you will know when you meet her again because her new name will rhyme with Satya and have the same number of syllables and letters as Satya. The universe loves a sense of order and also a sense of irony. Most of all remember that the only power is Love.

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That evening, on the third and final day of his meditation, Satya’s husband felt at peace and was joyous and full of laughter when dining with his children and grandchildren and great grandchildren.

He looked around proudly at the table and he knew that he was a wealthy man, wealthy in the good fortune of love, and of a loving family and he knew that love was a wealth you could take with you, wherever you go. He did not know where he was going but he knew he would be taking all the love he shared here this evening with him in wherever he decided to go.

As he retired for the evening, his heart remained full of gratitude.

He slumbered peacefully, and he thought about his afternoon meditation where he was flying and soaring like a rare Himalayan bird, high up in the sky, circling the blue and white peaks of the magnificent Himalayas and then swooping down lower to take a birds eye view of the tea plantations of his village.

His thoughts went out momentarily to the tragic gulag of Kandongu in Kenya that he had witnessed in his first day of meditation. He prayed for the people in the labor camps and wondered what he had in common with the people of Kenya. He knew, from a Universal meta-perspective that all people were One.

He reflected further on the people of Kenya and he recalled that when he had been a young Indian Railway chaiwalla, a fellow chaiwalla had mentioned to him that they grew tea in Kenya and they had tea plantations there too. He wondered now, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling fan in the quiet of night, if he might indeed be able to fly further in his mind, and fly to a location far away from the India Himalayas and the tea plantations that were part of his entire life. Perhaps he may fly in his meditations to Africa.

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He shut his eyes and he calmed his mind and he now saw that he was gathering up to the blue sky and his imagination was soaring and he found himself, remarkably, astoundingly, flying in the African sky above Kenya and looking down upon marvelous vistas which he had heretofore never imagined or seen.

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He flew above the Great Rift Valley and the escarpment and marveled at Nature and at Creation and at the wondrous fault lines in the Earth’s crust.

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He felt himself soar above vast and bountiful wildlife and witnessed a migration of wildebeest galloping and sweeping through the vast African Savannah.

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He saw a lake of pink and a flock of thousands of flamingos and then, in the distance he saw a noble herd of Samburu elephants majestically walking through plains.

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His imagination and his mind kept soaring and seeking new adventures and vistas and now he saw people in the distance.

He saw the peaceful and pastoral Samburu tribal people herding their cattle and their goats.

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As he continued to travel, he finally came upon the region of the Kiambu West District and feasted his eyes upon the magnificent tea plantations of Limuru.

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These were the tea plantations in Kenya that his fellow chaiwalla had told him about when he was a young man. As he looked at the Limuru tea plantations in the early morning light, he saw African women picking tea while some carried babies on their back and when he saw this beautiful sight, he no longer felt homesick for the Indian Himalayan tea plantations where he had grown up.

A woman picks tea at a plantation outside Kericho

He kept traveling in his mind’s eye and now he began to see a large city, bustling with horse drawn carriages, and motorcars and people of many different races buy mostly the local Kenyan people and he saw that it was the city of Nairobi.

He swooped lower and he saw buildings and cathedrals and temples and mosques and hotels and homes and parks and more and more people.

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There were Kikuyu vegetable ladies from the upcountry shambas, and there were Masai in red shukas visiting the big city, and there were African and Indian and European men in business suits walking and stopping and greeting each other, and sitting down and drinking chai together.

There was a wonder upon wonder of humanity and the city of Nairobi was a cosmopolitan city, and the city was vibrant with color and life. There were the colorful kitenge cloth and Kente cloth of the African women’s headdresses and there were the colorful saris of the Indian women, and there were the parasols in pinks and lavender and yellow of the European women.

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He kept on flying and exploring and now he was on the outskirts of the city of Nairobi, and he could, surprisingly and remarkably, actually read the signs of streets and the cities even though he had imagined himself to be illiterate. He began to read some of the signs as he fly by the town centers… Muthaiga, Forthall, Parklands…

… Suddenly, he began to weary and felt his strength drain out of him and he started to be frightened.

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He recalled the words of his kind friend, the Sadhu:

“When you are flying high in your consciousness and you begin to tire and feel weary and weak then do not be afraid. Just find a place that you would like to land and then land there and settle.”

He knew he had to stop flying.

He knew he had to land and settle.

He gently floated down and as he began to land he saw the local town sign.

It read:

‘Parklands’.

He settled in Parklands.

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The magnificent morning dawn had broken over the misted Indian Himalayan tea plantations and shafts of sunlight pierced the misty and moist air that floated gently upon Satya’s husband’s family cottage.

As was usual in the morning ritual, Satya’s husband’s eldest daughter said her morning prayers. She recited a verse from the Isa Upanishads that millions of Indians recite daily throughout all of the India:

“Behold the Universe in all its glory. Leaving the transient, find joy in the Eternal. Set not your heart upon another’s possessions. Thus have we learned from the ancient sages who explained this Truth to us.”

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After her morning prayers, the dutiful eldest daughter prepared the morning chai for her father and herself, and then gently opened the door to her parent’s bedroom to deliver her father his morning chai.

Both father and daughter always affectionately shared a cup of chai in the morning together as part of their morning ritual while the family began to awaken and to all gather together at table for breakfast.

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She dropped the two cups of chai on the floor and the cups shattered in fragments of clay and tea spilled as she walked over to her father, who was lying upon the bed, and she collapsed beside him and wept.

Her father had peacefully passed away in his sleep.

As the waking household heard the weeping of the eldest daughter they all began to enter the room of Satya’s husband, whose corpse lay peacefully upon the bed. One of the son’s of Satya’s husband went nearby to the cottage of the Swami and the Swami came over to the family cottage of Satya’s husband and stood amidst the weeping family members and recited verses from the Vedas and The Upanishads.

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By that same afternoon, the Sadhu had been called from the Sacred Forest and a tree in the forest had been felled for the funeral pyre of Satya’s husband.

The family gathered around the funeral pyre of Satya’s husband together with the Sadhu and the Swami.

The Swami prayed audibly, reciting Sanskrit verses from the Vedas and reciting a personal poem he had composed for the funeral of Satya’s husband. The Sadhu prayed silently and meditated.

When all was silent and still and the cremated body was smoldering with the last breaths of burning cinders and the smoke had thickened and was rising up in the Himalayan sky, the Sadhu and the Swami looked at each other knowing that they were sharing the same last thought about Satya’s husband:

He had died a good death and now he planned to live a good life.

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