43 Guru flash back

The rats reminded me of when we lived in India for a bit over a year. There the rats were not cute, were huge and popped out of open drains inside our house whenever they were hungry or needed fresh air. The spooky night also took me back to floating with the mystics during that period.

My work colleagues in New Delhi had been able to work even less than usual because their guru holy-man was visiting at the weekend. He normally existed somewhere in the Himalayas but travelled around occasionally to get up to date with his flock of souls and the world generally. He was quite old, now in his third reincarnation, and guessed to be approaching his 180th birthday. He had mentioned to my colleagues while they were astral-planing together that he would like to meet me in the flesh to check whether I was a positive or otherwise spirit for his disciples. Many others had wanted to see him so a meeting place had been arranged.

She wasn’t keen but together with Jane, then about 16 months, we entered the large tent erected so as to fill the street and block any traffic. It was pretty dull inside as it depended for lighting on electricity leaked from the nearest street pole but clearly it was full of many cross-legged sitting people; a number of them murmuring words together. We three hid at the back of the gathering trying to be invisible but standing out like traffic lights.

The chanting stopped and there was complete hush as a stretcher was carried in bearing a person in deep trance. Somebody from the middle of the crowd began to speak, like a reading of authoritative words. Garlands of flowers were brought by a train of supplicants and placed around the holy neck. Then, one of my work colleagues appeared from the gloom and said in my ear that the guru would like to meet me at the front. He had his eyes closed throughout and spoke to no one so I was sceptical. She shook her head. She didn’t want to be part of any meeting.

Jane could handle anything, only had to smile at any person and they melted. With her tightly curled very blond hair and blond and pink complexion she looked like a god anywhere, but specially so here. I thought with Jane to look after me, no problems, and so up I strolled nonchalantly, weaving through the crowd, carrying Jane like a trophy.

We stood in front of the guru. Nothing happened. Then the eyes opened for the first time. They were red like he had been overusing mushrooms or they had been scraped with fine sand for days. Instead of focussing on us, they cleared from red to black. The black became an infinitely large deep clear pool falling into outer space. He and I interacted in this space. After a while the black pool’s surface dissolved into the coarse unappetising red cover. He slowly took off three of his garlands like an old person working forceps at a distance and placed them carefully around Jane’s neck. The crowd murmured.

Jane loved all Indians and especially Indian men. She chuckled when they touched her white arms and pinched her on the cheeks. She played up to them.

She didn’t like the guru. She strained her head away over my shoulder to avoid his contact and tore off the garlands and threw them on the ground. The crowd murmured. The guru re-entered trance. Our audience was over.

Next day my work colleagues came around to tell me that the guru was very impressed with me. Indians in India do always like to say the right thing. He had told them that I would do good work spasmodically on the Indian sub-continent all my life and they should support me whenever possible. My child also would return. Nice story.