The Quantum Mantra

by Henri-Paul Bour

It was already past midnight, and almost all the rich and famous guests from the Mumbai establishment had left. The young ones would stay until the wee hours drinking and smoking with friends in Mumbai’s trendy bars and venues such as The Dome, or a newly opened bar, since the trend was always changing.

  Inside the rotunda, waiters and security men assisted with the departure of the last guests. The huge hall was almost empty.

  Sheela still felt confused. Her 20 years had passed and she felt that something was missing. She felt depressed—of course not because of her age—but because of the incident that happened a few hours earlier when she met Pascal, the fascinating foreigner. She even refused to join her young friends to continue the party.

  Actually, she was emotionally shocked because she loved her father very much and had always wanted to stay close to him, but life was determining otherwise. Busy and preoccupied, her father was becoming more and more distant. He was so conventional sometimes.

  Her beautiful and wonderful mother couldn’t help because she felt the same way.

  Her father was becoming mysteriously inaccessible and she was discerning an increasing tension in his relationship with the family. A deep trouble seemed to take all of his attention. Something was wrong and she wanted to know what it was.

  On the other side, she had a very challenging relationship with Arocha, her father’s trusted, young and brilliant assistant. For no apparent reason, she didn’t like him. She had a strong feeling that he wasn’t sincere, even though he was always very attentive and tried to please her.

  Earlier in the evening she observed the subtle way he dismissed the young foreign doctor. Behind the impeccable politeness she sensed his pleasure in getting rid of the guest; it was almost physically threatening.

  She heard later on from the security personnel that Arocha, the man she called ‘the frog waiting to kiss the princess’ had an accident using her father’s personal car; his magnificent Rolls Royce. She did feel sorry for him, and didn’t care much about her father’s car; he had too many, but she worried about Pascal.

  Instantly she had had a genuine empathy and attraction for him; he showed so much depth and spirituality in his conversation. She had experienced a true connection between them; the beginning of a relationship founded on a mutual spiritual understanding.

  But where was the young foreigner? No one knew, and the security guards didn’t seem worried.

  She tried to call his hotel to apologise for her father’s loss of temper, but neither Reception nor the Concierge could find him. No one answered the phone in his room and the key was still at Reception.

  She really started to worry. Her strong feelings and her sense that a true friendship was developing enhanced her intuition and created a kind of entangled connection. It was not a physical attraction, but a higher level of connecting minds.

  This connection fostered the sense of self-discovery that she innately knew she was seeking. She had always felt she had the capability to communicate with her mind. It was a sort of resonance or communing with the world on a vibrational level. She knew she was prepared for this higher level of spiritual attainment and her Hindu culture, oriented in meditation, had been the first step to that understanding. It all made sense to her now.

  Until now it had been superficial; too enclosed in a tight family circle; a practice shared as a common tradition and not actually for her. She was ready to believe what she had been taught about her Altman, her soul, and knew intellectually that she could be in oneness with Brahman the Creator, the Supreme Being.

  But for her it was intellectual learning, following the gurus’ teaching in the temples. Sita, her mother, was a devotee to Shaktism; a Tantric practitioner recognizing the Universal Feminine Power. Sheela admired her mother’s peaceful presence and since the Hindu Cosmos was a woman, her mother Sita was the perfect representation of it.

  Sheela could not understand such a paradox in a culture where women were not yet free to marry the man of their choice except in the case of the special Gandharva Vivaah, the ‘Love Marriage’.

  Intellectually, she preferred the concept of Brahman, the Universal Truth of the Cosmos. She didn’t much like the Trimurti, the image of the three goddesses and all the thousands of images of Gods. These images didn’t correspond to her generation’s refusal of rigid and childish representations. A transcendent principle animating her Atman or her soul, was more appropriate.

  After conversing with Pascal she could perceive new horizons and new perspectives not imbued in tradition. So much still to explore! She started to laugh at herself. Would the foreigner become her Guru? Everyone would make a fool of her, for it was unthinkable to communicate at this level with a stranger to her Brahman caste.

  She was still walking nervously between the guests when more news came about Arocha’s accident. The staff said they found the car smashed by an angry mob when it hit a bullock pulling a cart driven by a low-caste peasant. The animal was killed and the ragged people had become hysterical and attacked the car’s occupants to conjure Krishna’s forgiveness for the sacrilege.

  Arocha had been very lucky! One bodyguard was killed and two others were still in a critical but stable condition, but there was no trace of the foreigner.

  Sheela was suspicious. How was such an incident involving the security chief himself even possible? How come the car was already towed away? How come nobody talked about Louis de Maintenon?

  Arocha had always been in command and had acted safely, but now he was involved in a messy situation; he had fractures and a serious wound on his face. This situation was alarming.

  The staff reported that he was very courageous and went back to his house to arrange urgent matters and have an initial briefing with his security commander before taking care of himself and later being admitted to a nearby hospital.

  What were such important matters that required him to act so heroically?

  She decided to think about this later; for the time being her first concern was the young foreigner.

  The security man confirmed that the car had taken him to his hotel, which was on the way to Arocha’s house before the accident, but he hadn’t made it to his room; he had simply disappeared.

  This story seemed very strange to Sheila; something was not adding up. Was the security man just making this up or was this the message he was instructed to tell her? Could it be possible that Pascal had met some friends and was partying somewhere else? That scenario just didn’t fit with her image of the young man.

  She called his hotel again and still there was no answer. She felt a deep anxiety and was almost ready to wake her father. Something terribly wrong was happening.

  Her phone rang at that very moment. It was Pascal.

  She exhaled a deep breath of relief, but what he was saying to her was not relieving her from her deeper anxiety.

  Whatever the circumstances, she was a resolute young woman; she had to do something! She tried to reach her father but he only replied with a brief SMS saying he was not to be disturbed before the morning. By morning, he would have probably spoken to Arocha, so this was a big problem.

  When she heard about Mayumi’s kidnapping she was deeply moved. She had to find her, in order to save her, but also as a way of making sure the foreigner was telling the truth.

  …

  Secluded in a tiny room in the underground of a huge building, Mayumi was kept alone in total silence. It had been two nights already. What was happening?

  She had arrived through a long corridor that accessed several similar rooms. She had noticed that they had also passed along a large room where dozens of huge screens were attached to the ceiling. It looked like a NASA launching control station. Many people seemed busy and effervescent.

  She couldn’t see Arocha’s features properly, but she could sense his self-pride in his organizational skills.

  “From here,” he said triumphantly, “everything that happens in our group and associated companies is controlled by my cameras and by our
spy network. Our competitors and all-important matters are under our scrutiny. In particular, The Cosmos Program is managed from here under my sole command.”

  Mayumi felt a strong shock and deep repulsion upon arriving at her cell.

  Although it was clear that they expected her, two foreigners sat with distorted smiles and didn’t engage her at all. The blond giant with a small head sent violent vibrational waves of fear through Mayumi’s body. She remembered Pascal talking about a Russian giant chasing them. And yes, he had that look of a vicious idiot—the worst.

  Pascal and Sumit had also described the other man, a stocky Caucasian.

  What the hell were they doing here? To be left in their hands was a real nightmare!

  Arocha introduced them with gallantry, saying they were ‘nice men’ and very happy to make her acquaintance.

  “But don’t even try to deceive them. They know some special treatments that can have a lady like you beg for mercy. They never hesitate to use their imagination—some Thai girls are now living handicapped lives.”

  Mayumi scanned the cell. Stark metal furniture was embedded in the concrete walls and floor: a small toilet, washbasin and simple shower with no accessories other than what was absolutely necessary. There was no chair, but a bench was fixed to the wall opposite the table that was fixed into the floor. She had the feeling that many people had experienced this creepy accommodation.

  A small lift and a new stairwell told Mayumi that she wasn’t under the tower anymore, but was probably in some kind of subterranean extension independent from the building facilities. She also saw heavy iron, bulletproof gates blocking exit from the cell.

  The two filthy men started patting her, cupping her beautiful breasts into their lecherous hands and pinching her firm bottom. The stocky man couldn’t resist kissing her neck. Mayumi jumped, horrified at this experience.

  Arocha laughed so much he couldn’t breathe.

  “Stop it now!” he ordered as soon as he got his breath back. “You’ll have your time, I promise, but for the time being we have other business to finish.”

  The two monsters showed their dirty teeth and mumbled to her, “Wait baby; we’ll take care of you soon.”

  They pushed her inside savagely and the door closed with a sinister click.

  Feeling desperate, Mayumi couldn’t help but cry, but her strong determination took over quickly and she recomposed herself with breathing exercises from years of meditation training and calmed her pounding heart.

  Within a few minutes she was calm. She had to let her intuition show a lead for a solution to her problem. But what could she do? Use the old trick from the movies and seduce a guard to use him as a hostage? This only seemed to work in B-Grade movies.

  Could she use her spiritual practice as a way to freedom? It was certainly a better option.

  As a selected medium chosen from thousands of Japanese and Western devotees who were members of the very large Buddhist esoteric group, Mayumi had followed a very difficult training with an experienced master to become an Achali, a master medium. Most were able to get easily into trance and communicate with spirits or even ancestors and have supernatural powers such as predicting events in the future.

  Mayumi was among the best. As a true medium, she was told never to use her spiritual capacities for personal interest, but to guide other people to a higher level.

  In modern society, supernatural or paranormal aptitude—whatever it was called—was often perceived as fake and the work of charlatans. Even inside her Buddhist group she had never tried to use her mediumship to guide people who didn’t ask and weren’t willing to learn and practice. She had nothing to prove. Mayumi held only compassion in her desire to help.

  In her tiny cell, she had no access to information. Since her conversation with the arrogant young executive who introduced himself as Arocha, she had only met guards bringing food, water, clothes, and to check on her. She tried to communicate with them, but they had strict instructions and probably didn’t speak English anyway.

  Her only contact with the world was through her watch, but instead of relentlessly counting the hours, she immersed herself in long meditations, chanting:

  Budham saranam gachami

  Sangam saranam gachami…

  Dharman saranam gachami…

  She also practiced Hatha Yoga’s breathing exercises and she could sometimes connect with the outside world through mental vibrations. For instance, when Pascal had come to look at the building she had instantly felt his presence.

  She had been happy to feel his presence and terribly anxious because now he was in the mouth of the tiger.

  Water and horrible food was served at regular intervals: fatty curry dumped into sour milk was not her dearest dish. She loved naan bread and papadums, but not when spread with sour butter. But she wasn’t complaining; after all, she wasn’t on vacation in a resort.

  She had learned more about her cell; she noticed it was located on a low level, next to the large building on top of which the helicopter had landed.

  Her plan was set. She started to refuse food under the pretence that her stomach was hurting. Finally she fainted and a young doctor was summoned to her room. He didn’t seem at ease as he spoke to her in broken English.

  “Please tell me what happened.”

  He had already inserted a thermometer into her mouth and set the cuff of the blood pressure equipment around her arm. The doctor looked at her stone-faced while he waited for the blood pressure readout.

  In less than one second Mayumi was in a trance with her eyes deeply fixed on the doctor’s. Once the two were in a fixed state, she started to talk to him in a raucous voice.

  “Your name is Singh and your mother is very sick. Your father passed away from cancer last year in Calcutta and you are afraid your mother also has stomach cancer!”

  The doctor’s insensitive face suddenly opened up; his eyes widened. How could she know?

  Mayumi went on...

  “In your family many problems have been raised over the last two years. It is because you didn’t help them to open their hearts. You know you aren’t providing the right dharma, but you don’t want to acknowledge the truth.”

  The doctor was now crying like a baby.

  “You come here to torture innocent people; not to care for them. If you continue, your mother will die soon, and you will as well—and you will continue in the lower reincarnations.

  The doctor shivered and murmured, “But I have no choice. It is my karma.”

  “Your ancestors have always been good devotees to Shiva the Destroyer, but your father wouldn’t listen to the power of preservation of Vishnu. He even started to revere Kali, the dark side of Parvati: the wife of Shiva. Her power is negative when it is used for oneself and not for others. She fights the Devil not for your benefit; she is the Divine Mother as well, and can protect yours.”

  “What can I do then?”

  In her trance Mayumi was in direct contact with the doctor’s traditional ancestors.

  “The spiritual world has confirmed for you. Listen to your heart and not to your ‘pretended’ karma, as this is only your imagination.

  “I am sorry, I am sorry.”

  The doctor mumbled almost incoherently: “Parvati, Parvati, Parvati…. you are the reincarnation of Parvati. You have the power; you can save my Atman. You can help me finish the cycle of reincarnation.”

  He then bowed in front of her and knelt in the Sat Nam mudra posture, touching the floor with his forehead.

  “Thank you for showing me the path to Shakti, the power of the vibration.” he said as he regained his calm. His eyes shone with a strong determination.

  The doctor continued, “I will talk to Arun Kumar; he must set you free. I will find a way to convince him, but let me keep you here for the moment.”

  …

  Mayumi was in a basement, probably several floors, somewhere below the lobby.

  Pascal told Sheela about Mayumi when he called her from the
slums and told her the story on the phone. He even confirmed that Mayumi was on one of the secret underground floors and confessed that he knew this because he had visions and perceived vibrational information that confirmed his vision.

  Sheela had believed him and together they hatched a plan. Sheela had to free Mayumi and then meet Pascal at the Shivaji Central Railway station. They would all meet and convince her father that he needed to change course before he left for Beijing.

  He was to call her early the next morning.

  Sheela wasn’t surprised to hear about Arocha’s wrongdoings and conspiracy, as she had always detested him. But delivering Mayumi wouldn’t be that easy, supposing she really was in that building.

  As Arocha was in the hospital, it was an opportunity to act behind his back and go to the lower floors in search of the building’s secret security quarters.

  She first tried to get permission from the security manager on duty to visit the secure premises, and of course he had not agreed. He had no orders to talk to her and she wasn’t in charge even if she was Arun Kumar’s daughter. Instructions were strict. She needed to show a written note from Arocha himself.

  She was furious. As the daughter of Arun Kumar she was humiliated, and most upset to hear the operative giving orders for a higher the level of security. He was ordering the underground iron gates to be closed and all access to the security control rooms and operative rooms to be cut.

  What the hell were the ‘operative’ rooms; were they the hostage rooms?

  Now she knew something was really wrong, so Sheela decided to play smart and use subterfuge to avoid jeopardising her plan by irritating the security staff who wouldn’t let her through.

  She decided to keep a low profile and had a trick of her own. No one must suspect her next move.

  Sheela knew the building very well as she had visited the site several times before the building was opened two years ago. When the building was under construction, she loved to come here with her father to inspect the progress. At that time her father explained the building plan to her and she had been impressed by the advanced security technology.

  Sheela was an innovative and energetic woman, and as she was quite familiar with the building systems, she had already sorted out a way to override it. She knew exactly where the electrical control room was, right behind the family elevators. She called her personal driver and bodyguard Ira, who was devoted to her, and explained the plan...

  Every member of the family had access via their iPhones to the building’s security codes, alarm system, fire extinguishers, electrical fuses and security measures in case of fire, earthquake and riot. Together they would enter the underground levels whether the security guard liked it or not.

  She decided to create a distraction by setting off a fire alarm that would attract most of the security people outside first, then hermetically seal the entrance doors, leaving only a small team behind, inside the building. Next, she would switch off the underground electric system and her bodyguard would enter the electrical room and remove the fuses to avoid automatic resetting. She made sure she could get to an electrical torch and manual keys.

  All this was to be done quickly, since any disruption to the system and subsequent reset would bring a special team in less than five minutes. Nevertheless, they were going to attempt it.

  As soon as the lobby was resonating with alarm sirens she hurried downstairs with Ira. People seemed panic-stricken and not prepared.

  On the third basement level she found a long corridor that wasn’t in the original building plans. She had a flash; she understood that part of the tower had secretly been remodelled at the last moment under the security management’s instructions and of course she was not informed about it. This was where Mayumi, the Japanese hostage, would be held.

  Sheela entered several rooms and found them empty, but the last one had thick, iron sliding gates in front of it and she had no keys!

  Suddenly, the door half-opened on a slim shadow of a man.

  Sheela retreated while Ira jumped on the unsuspecting man,, but immediately he began whispering...

  “Shhhh…Come in. I want to help; I want to help! Please come quickly,” he said with a young voice as the bodyguard, holding his arm tight behind his back, ushered him into the room and closed the door.

  They found themselves facing a terrified young man wearing glasses. He had recognized Sheela and seemed near hysteria.

  “I knew you would come for her. She is the reincarnation of Parvati. She is protected by you.” Sheela was puzzled.

  “Is this man crazy?” she asked her bodyguard.

  “No Ma’am; he is the security doctor.”

  Sheela had the feeling that the so-called security doctor was talking about Mayumi and that something had happened between him and the Japanese medium.

  She firmly questioned the man, as if she knew.

  “Doctor, do you know where the Parvati woman is? I know you have just visited her.”

  The man looked at her and bowed reverently.

  “You are right. I just visited the Japanese woman because I was called by security. They said she was very sick and had collapsed. After I examined her, I knew it was not true. She used a telepathic method to commune with me mentally. We transcended time through a vibrational wave process that allowed her to communicate with my ancestors. It was stunning. She spoke to me with assurances that there is a way I can redeem myself from my wayward path and provided the guidance that my ancestors shared with her. In return and in gratefulness, I promised to save her… Follow me,” he said as he punched in the code to open the iron gate.

  “Unfortunately,” he said “you will be able to see her from the outside of the room only.”

  “Why can’t we enter?” asked Sheela.

  “Only certain guards have the key to her room. The one on duty is upstairs, but will back in five minutes. I’m not sure we can manage it, but I have a plan,” said the doctor.

  “Please leave as soon as you can. It won’t be good for her if somebody sees you here. I will take care of her. I am going to free her...This is my plan: the alarm will be reset soon; in four minutes the special electrical system will be reactivated. It will take 10 minutes for the new security team to arrive. I will inject her with a chemical to simulate a cardiac failure and she will look totally inert for one hour. I will have her transported immediately to a private clinic where we sometimes treat difficult cases. I am in charge there and as Arocha is in the hospital he won’t be able to change my orders.”

  Sheela didn’t want to know what kind of difficult cases the doctor was talking about.

  “I will certify her dead and put her into a coffin. Please meet me at the Walkerville Temple. Ask for Singh, the temple Guru and he will bring you to her.”

  “I know him,” she replied, “he is my personal guru. In that case, I agree. Your plan seems safe enough.”

  “How will Arocha react?” she asked.

  “That’s no problem. Her coffin will be incinerated immediately—empty of course, as you would expect. My boss will never know and the guru will not tell.”

  But what if Arocha knows she didn’t pass away?” Sheela was being cautious.

  “That’s impossible,” replied the doctor. “It will be the temple’s duty to hand him the ashes and they will know how to handle that. All the evidence will have gone, but you will have to send the woman to Japan immediately.”

  “Of course,” replied Sheela.

  “See you at the temple.”

  She still had some doubts. “How can I make sure you will do what you say?”

  “Oh yes, I will do it,” he replied, “Because she is a reincarnation of Parvati. She saved my life and will save my mother! She broke the cycle of my reincarnation.”

  Sheela was, in fact, not very surprised, but said nothing. Indians were so superstitious. She decided she would get more information later.

  ‘I will remember you. Thank you, doctor!” This was also a warning.
<
br />   …

  “If you don’t make mistakes,

  you don’t make anything”

  Paolo Coelho