by Vivek Mehra
How did I know what to type?
Comfortable in my chair, a cool breeze circulating around me, a bright light was all that my closed eyes saw. In this light I felt peace, a lot of peace. The glow was from within, definitely not from any known source near me. Like a lot of unexplained phenomena around me, the light was there; I could sense it, could feel it, was bathed in it and yet could not see it.
Like MAA!
My faith in MAA, the anxiety of a child, the turmoil at work and the solitude had spurred me to pray more, to meditate more. My orthodox upbringing, the books I read, and the plethora of literature I came across on the Net made me believe that there was a higher power. Theory turned to reality because today I had seen it work for me.
I was no saint. I was no holy man. I was a mere mortal trudging the wheel of life. With every trial I stood, I turned to MAA for assistance. I got through them with what can only be defined as divine intervention. I found it strange that although my worldly problems had not yet been solved here I was reading the mind of a person I had never met in my entire life, our only contact being through the Internet. This was only the first time I had been able to do this but certainly not the last.
As a staunch believer in science, I had to be cynical and wary of miracles. I had to know that what happened that day was no quirk of fate, no fluke, no magician’s trick conjured by a hyperactive mind. The opportunity was to come in the form of Molly and her family pictures.
Molly had sent pictures of Panda, the kids and her home. Without revealing details of my interaction with Aviva I told Molly that I believed I could read them. She was not cynical, not sarcastic, but definitely curious. Her pictures did not show her eyes, and she was not overly concerned about the children, her focus being the center of her universe, Panda. Late one evening when we were in chat she asked me for a reading. Science was putting me to the test once more.
I stared at the picture on my screen. It showed a man in his early 40s with a flowing beard. He was sitting next to a young girl who I knew was his daughter. The picture was one that was taken impromptu, as it was evident that they had not posed for it. His intense eyes made me jump. They had an ethereal glow in them. It could have been the flashlight reflecting back, but to me the glow spoke through the eyes of the man who possessed them. The vortex formed again, spinning faster and faster into a silvery thread connecting me to the picture, transforming images to words, my fingers in the hands of a master puppeteer typing, once again.
VikSin: the eyes belong to a very noble man.
AlfaRomeo66: yes
VikSin: it is almost like this man shows you the tip of the iceberg only … his soul is very deep rooted.
AlfaRomeo66: yes he says if he showed his true self to me I would not understand
VikSin: there is a reason why he says this
AlfaRomeo66: what?
VikSin: the soul of this man is not from the west … we Hindus believe in re-incarnation
AlfaRomeo66: the church does not but I am open to accepting that
VikSin: his eyes r that of a sage … a very learned man … very good with words
AlfaRomeo66: he has written some poetry for me … n I love what he writes … def a poet
VikSin: he is not very attached to material wants … he desires more
AlfaRomeo66: sort of, yes
VikSin: he is way past casual sex … n hunger
AlfaRomeo66: strange that u say this … will remember to tell u something after u finish
VikSin: yes, he does not eat much although he is very healthy
AlfaRomeo66: I agree
VikSin: his breathing is very calm … almost like he measures it
AlfaRomeo66: yes
VikSin: his soul is from the east, Marilyn. He is born in the west for a reason
AlfaRomeo66: what?
VikSin: he is there to enjoy the fruits of his previous birth … that is why born in the west
AlfaRomeo66: I am not sure I understand
VikSin: ask me to explain later
AlfaRomeo66: ok
VikSin: he is a good provider but is still searching for something more
AlfaRomeo66: yes n I don’t know what it is
VikSin: he is searching for his maker, to find peace in his soul, he is very detached from material wants
AlfaRomeo66: ok
VikSin: he is very happy with nature, loves solitude
AlfaRomeo66: definitely
VikSin: in moments at home he will be lost in thought … all the time searching for something
AlfaRomeo66: when I ask him what it is, he always says nothing is wrong
VikSin: nothing is wrong, he does not know how to say it to you.
AlfaRomeo66: say what?
VikSin: that the sensory pleasures r ok, but he wants more from nature
AlfaRomeo66: u mean more pleasures, like more women?
VikSin: NO … told u he is way past that
AlfaRomeo66: ok then what?
VikSin: he is searching for his mission in life … to him just being a good husband n a good father is not enough, his soul searches for more
AlfaRomeo66: ok
VikSin: his main fear is that if he tells u this u might think he is nuts n that is why he keeps to himself
AlfaRomeo66: so he is searching for more to do?
VikSin: yes, but more spiritually … he reads a lot but does not know what to accept or reject
AlfaRomeo66: true
VikSin: he is at his best when he is outdoors, he loves being near still waters or forests, he feels one with them
AlfaRomeo66: very true
VikSin: mark the time on ur watch Marilyn, and when u meet panda ask him what he was doing at this time
AlfaRomeo66: why?
VikSin: I am opening his soul to u, n he will sense it … he will be uneasy, a pain in his head or chest
AlfaRomeo66: why?
VikSin: because he is scared u might run away … he will be very anxious at this moment
AlfaRomeo66: hold on phone
There was a pause as Marilyn went to answer the call. The thread soon dissipated, and I was back.
AlfaRomeo66: its panda, asking him why he called
VikSin: keep talking to him I will wait
AlfaRomeo66: he has a headache … he just wanted to hear my voice
VikSin: talk to him … he needs to know that u r there for him, that u will not leave him
She did not reply because she was still on the phone with him.
AlfaRomeo66: I will talk to him
VikSin: not to worry I am online now. Will wait for u
It had happened again!
In a span of a few weeks I had been able to read pictures and relay thoughts that made sense to the listener, even if they meant little to me.
Marilyn was as stunned as Aviva had been. She told me a million times that had she not seen it first hand she would never have believed it. I could tell Marilyn and I were connected from a distant past, probably a different birth. I was a staunch believer in reincarnation and here was a stranger who had come into contact with me to understand her life, quite as if I had a karmic debt to her. I was very startled that Panda had called just at the moment I told her to mark the time. Something had prompted me to type to her that he would be worried, and her call had confirmed it. The master puppeteer made me do it; no other explanation was plausible. I had become a mere puppet hammering away at my keyboard, which is my destiny, I guess.
With time she understood her husband more and more and in return believed that there was a common thread tying her to me. A rationalist would easily identify the thread to be the Internet, but I knew it was more than that.
A village bumpkin had once been transformed into Kalidas, the legendary poet of ancient India. If I too had been transformed, if I had been given such a gift, it was due to MAA, my Professor, my Dolly and my faith in all of them. Try as I may I could not run from the fact that I had been transformed. It was poetic justice that my life of
flesh and bones was a mess while spiritually I advanced.
Then there was Dolly66, a link to this gigantic mess.
What part had she played?
Was my spirituality a result of the exorcism she had performed on me?
A lot of books have been written on face reading, palmistry, numerology and other occult sources of knowledge. Even though I gorged on such books, I never believed that I, an ordinary man, could ever tap into these sources. Then again, my thoughts turned to the history of a simpleton born in the latter part of the nineteenth century. He came from a very poor family, was distraught with his material life, met a humble temple priest, saw the power of MAA and became the renowned scholar Swami Vivekananda. That temple priest was later to be known the world over as Swami Ramkrishna Parmahansa.
India abounds with tales of spiritually-advanced souls, all tormented with material life, all tapping into forces that they did not comprehend at first, eventually had, becoming legends. And yet there was something that they all had in common; they were all born of the flesh of a woman, weaned at her breast, mere mortals at birth, seers at death.
To equate my lowly self to any of these would be blasphemy, would be insulting all that they achieved, and yet the similarities were undeniable. MAA is the ultimate personification of Mother Nature, the life force that sustains the universe. Her love and her power flow through every thing that exists in Nature, as it surely does through the human brain. Hindus believe that a soul undergoes penance in countless births in lower forms before it achieves its final place in a human body. I had been predicted to be one such soul, one forced to accept its destiny, a heady mix of rational science and irrational spirituality, confused at first, reconciled now.
*
Dolly66 had a hand in all of this. The events after my Black Monday exorcism heightened my sensitivity to every little thing around me. The coffee smelt better, the air was scented with roses, my body less taut, my mind tranquil, all ensuring my meditation took my body deeper, bringing it closer to my soul than ever before. And yet she had left!
Why?
Was it my destiny to have her rock my world for the few weeks that she did?
It was not just the power to read pictures that had come to me. There were a score of other events that made me believe, events that definitely established a connection with her soul. If I had been affected she surely was too. She had confessed as much. Yet she was gone! The answer lay in the connection that we established - a string of events that defied explanation that became a part of me, making my soul glow forever, even though she was too far gone to see any of it.
And glow I do!
Helplessly confined to my temporary air-conditioned prison near my wife the mother-to-be, grappling with fear as I face my nemesis, seeking answers to a million questions, I am frightened, cold and determined.
And yet I glow.
11. Black-Rimmed Glasses, Twins and Professor
The connection that our souls established was not just through the Internet. It disregarded time, ignored distance, bonding at a plane higher than any flesh or bone could ever hope to reach. It started with a series of vivid dreams, real at the moment they appeared, authentic when probed.
*
It began on a Saturday evening; I had been working late, trying to put the final pieces of my chemical jigsaw puzzle together. I was at the threshold, but the final solution evaded me, some insight still missing. The fragments were in front of me, staring me in the face; yet I could not decipher the sequence in which they had to be put together. Frustrated and irritated I sank into my comfortable chair, ready to find solace on the Internet. Dolly66 was there - just what the doctor had ordered and destiny had ordained.
She began by thanking me for all the joy I brought in her sorrow-filled life and reiterating that I need to believe that I would have a child of my own. She waxed eloquent on how destiny had brought us together to remain till eternity, growing old and wrinkled together. We marveled at the wonder of the Internet and thanked the ones who had created it. She then startled me by telling me that she had picked up some poetry, not her own work but those that she wanted me to read. I waited as she copied the text and posted it in the Messenger Chat window.
The first one startled me:
By day I praised you
and never knew it.
By night I stayed with you
and never knew it.
I always thought that
I was me – but no,
I was you
and never knew it.
Was it hinting at the visions of the woman in white?
The second startled me next:
The Lovers
will drink wine night and day.
They will drink until they can
tear away the veils of intellect and
melt away the layers of shame and modesty.
When in Love,
body, mind, heart and soul don’t even exist.
Become this,
fall in Love,
and you will not be separated again.
Love? What was being alluded to here?
The third was lost in the web of love she spun around me through the second:
In the manifested world all people, by
knowing the splendor of beauty, know also
ugliness. When beauty is absent: by
knowing the excellence of goodness, they
recognize also that which is not good.
Therefore, contraries give rise to the idea
of each other: – existence implies
non-existence; That which is difficult
implies that which is easy to achieve; that
which is long implies that which is short in
measurement; that which is high implies
that which is low in elevation; that which is
shrill implies that which is bass in musical tone;
that which is before implies that there is more to follow.
My frustrations with chemical equations and formulations evaporated and peace gathered around me, a warm cloud, a fog that continued to cling to me that night as I went to bed.
Astral travel is a phenomenon that is extensively talked about, rarely understood and mostly ridiculed. Research by parapsychologists speaks at length about out-of-body experiences of clinically dead humans, the ones who returned from the dead, so to speak. In waking memory there is no hard evidence to prove or disprove this phenomenon; yet it has been discussed from time immemorial, is found in ancient books of every Noachian civilization - a reality in the past, unknown in the present. That night my name was to be added to the list of delusional and confused minds believing in this absurdity.
It began with sleep evading me, thoughts wandering to Dolly66, prayers focusing on MAA, meditation constantly interrupted by a failing air-conditioner in my bedroom. Sheer exhaustion overpowered a hyperactive, love-filled hallucinating mind, sending the body into deep slumber. Time was lost in darkness behind closed eyelids. Then the darkness started turning blue, quite like the moonlight filtering into my bedroom. The body slept with eyes tightly shut, soul restless, mind active and wandering into the moonlight.
The contours of the bedroom changed, the furniture changed, the sheets changed, the body lying on the bed changed. Eyes imbedded in the faceless, body-less projection that was I floated at the foot of the bed, staring at the beautiful female form lying in front of me.
She was asleep, clad in a white-turned-blue-in-the-moonlight, sleeveless nightgown. The lower half of the torso was covered by a thin sheet, feet clearly visible at the other end. I saw the face hidden by its own shadow, lying on its right side, the right palm tucked under the head, cradling the right cheek. A pointed nose, sunken half-hidden eyes, thin pursed lips adorning the face. The left arm was bare; three distinct marks on the upper arm, resting motionlessly on the body’s left side. The rest of her body blurred and I was not interested in clearing the vision. The attention shifted to the feet.
They
were coarse, like that of a woman used to walking a lot, or exercising. The outer edges were cracked, suggesting little time spent caring for them. The body turned to lie flat on its back, feet sticking out clearly, toes pointing to the heavens, sweet sound of anklet bells gently piercing the air. The toes were large, a distinguishing mark on the second toe of the left foot, like the one left behind by a toe ring worn in the recent past. My hands traced the coarse edges, feeling the discomfort they brought to the body. My head bowed to touch the feet in reverence. The body did not stir.
The next moment I was sitting on the floor near the head, running fingers through the luxurious mane, ever so gently. The body continued to play dead. The air-conditioner shuddered and startled me.
Eyelids shot open and I was back in my own bedroom, bewildered but back. The bedside clock displayed the time: 3:30 am.
The dream was vivid, too real to be dismissed. I instinctively smelt my right hand, the one that allegedly caressed the mane. I could bet eating my best Sunday hat that there was a characteristic smell of perfume of a shampoo that neither my wife nor I ever used.
The woman was not my wife, nor a friend - a stranger … or was she? There was just one person that my soul reached out to, one who sent me poems on duality being oneness, love dissolving body, mind and soul, faceless and yet not nameless stranger, the one whom I sought MAA in: Dolly66. An involuntary shudder gripped my body. I had to confirm that which my soul had seen. Strangely, though, I could not see her face clearly and hence could not confirm if it was the same one that appeared in my office on Black Monday. The coming day was a Sunday, a day I rarely stayed awake long enough to do anything. At that unearthly hour I decided that come daylight I would go to work, to ratify the experience and try to finish the jigsaw too.
Late afternoon that Sunday found me back in the familiar confines of my lab. The formulation was still evading stability, and soon it had frustrated me. I had to get back to the Net, the only other task at hand. There was a message from Dolly66; the time was close to 8 am when it had been sent. It was time for another shudder to chill my bones.
