Abundance
Caterpillar To Butterfly - Joy Forever
By Ravi Sharma
Mar 11, 2008

Why and when do our passions and ambitions evaporate and thoughts about what life is, begin to haunt us? Why is that after we get what we wanted always, we don't find the happiness we expected?
What is happiness? Is it a distant dream or something that can be achieved?

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Spirituality is not an impossible to achieve utopia but a real state that is also practical. In this spiritual novel, Partibhan a young man, becomes a reluctant spiritual guide after his father takes Samadhi - a voluntary renunciation of the body. Confronted by the failure of his disciples to adopt the powerful ideals mentioned in the scriptures at a practical level, Partibhan takes it on himself to prove they are possible. He undertakes an 800-kilometer sojourn from Manmad to Ratnagiri on foot, without belongings, food, money and shelter. His intent is to prove that if a helpless bird can live in God's kingdom without hoarding or worrying about the future, then a more powerful human can set himself free to experience joy forever through detachment. Partibhan inspires people to explore the freedom of the spirit they have lost because their planning and anxiety for the future have lost a balance. This adventurous journey transforms this young man and his disciples and reinforces the ideals of faith, love and surrender, which are necessary for peace.

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Caterpillar to Butterfly - Joy Forever!
Peace is achievable but different from accomplishments.
Prologue
All material things are dead. They are trophies, of no use to anyone or us because we leave empty handed, when we die. However, throughout lives, we prefer to chain ourselves to accomplishments, give up freedom in an attempt to quench needs and desires.
Look at a rose, the moon and sky and look at those trophies that glitter on shelves. Which of them uplifts the spirit? What belongs to everyone, emits joy, not personal possessions.
In our desire to collect trophies, we forget the essence of being alive and free. We become prisoners of our limited worlds that enable relative achievementa. Relative because one person's extraordinary achievement, might truly fail to impress another.
Throw 50 grains of wheat at a bird and it will eat to its heart's content, then fly away in peace. Not a single grain will it take with it for tomorrow.
But if it is a human being....
Well, then things are different!
The Story As Told By:
Nikhil Bamba
Chapter 1

I watched Susan's body, a lissom silhouette against the sunbeams flooding my office through the windows, with disgust for the weakness I failed to overcome. Sex and food had a striking parallel - they appeared undesirable, only after the extensive splurging.
She must have experienced a synchronous thought because her lips too, curled into a frown. "I'm leaving," she broke the silence. "We can't go on like this."
"Marry me, Susan. My wife is two-timing on me and I will have proof soon enough for a divorce."
"I can't do that," she said, her face mirroring her troubled soul. "I am happy with my husband and my children -"
"If you were then we wouldn't have had a relation."
"I'm breaking free - "
"And what does it mean?"
"I'm leaving, not just this room, but the job."
"You can't be serious!"
"I stayed just to ask you to have a deep look within. Find what's wrong... And not this." She pointed at the couch.
"You can't leave me Susan! Not like this."
"My decision is final."
"We can call off our relation if it disturbs you."
"Don't think that will work. I've tried and failed."
"But..." I tried all arguments with her but nothing worked.
My personal secretary left me that evening and ended her sixteen-year-old association with me.
The telephone bell, didn't allow me to linger over my loss. The call was the one I feared - from the detective.
"Your wife's intimately involved with that rock musician. I have the photographs."
"Give me those, tomorrow morning. Collect your cheque and I think that will be enough for now."
On reaching home, I saw my daughter packing her bags, ready to leave.
What's going on? I asked.
"I'm leaving," Anuradha replied in a flippant tone.
"To where?"
"America, with Shridhar."
"America? With whose permission?"
"I am an adult and can decide," she glared at me. The lightning that flashed inside the room seemed to emit from her blue eyes and not the thunder outside. I somehow knew this particular confrontation was going to be much worse than the many we regularly replayed against the backdrop of the beautiful house, expensive carpets and exquisite furniture.
"Are you to marry him?" I knew she was moving around with him and this had been a cause of bitterness between us.
"No. It will be a live-in relation."
"That's blasphemous!" I shouted in a previously alien pitch that perhaps belongs to all mad and hopping fathers. "Back home everyone will call you a whore and laugh at me!"
"What about here? What's sacred about your drug addict wife sleeping with a man young enough to be her son?" She shouted back.
I slapped her, even before I could check the impulse.
She smiled defiantly, the pink imprint glaring at her milk-white cheek. "This is the last time I'm forgiving you. But just one more physical outburst and you'll have to answer the authorities."
She could call the cops. Last year she had. They let me off with a reprimand and I had to sign many papers.
"That man's not good. He'll dump you for another woman," I said, mellowing my stance when I saw the danger sign pasted all over her emotional territory.
"So? Your wife dumped you for another man, six months ago. Don't you live?" She said.
What you know of love? What you know of life?
"You kept us off from trespassing into your life when you were bringing up your factory. We learnt to survive this world without your help..."
"Anu..."
"We were never a part of your emotional environment. So don't waste your energies on me now." Anuradha snapped her bags shut. "Bye father, wish me luck, if you can."
"What luck can I wish when you're hell-bent on your destruction?"
"Thank God life is relative and not as absolute as you think it is!"
A car honked outside.
"He's waiting for me. Wanna meet?" The sarcasm she had in her voice was unmissable.
"If you want me to kill him. You told your mother you're leaving?"
"A stepmother," she flared. "And you don't tell her about this either."
"Why?"
"She'll surprise me if she asks, even one month after. She's too busy with her boyfriend to notice one person less in her world." She smiled acidly as she reached for the door.
"I love you, don't go," I pleaded.
"It's too late, dad."
She shut the door and left.
I rushed to the window and to my astonishment saw her sobbing. Her steely veneer masked an emotional disturbance I hadn't suspected. And somehow, I knew she was hurt because of something I had done, or rather, not done as her father! I saw Shridhar put his hand around her shoulder. Then they were gone.
Look deeper within and find out what's wrong in your life, just as I have decided to do... Susan's words echoed in my mind.
When a helpless bird can live in this world and enjoy it, why can't you?
An advertisement in the newspaper lying on the table caught my attention - When I finished reading it, I arrived at a decision.
Chapter 2
I woke up dizzy and disoriented. The room seemed unfamiliar and I felt a time disconnect. Peering groggily at my watch, I saw the green LEDs flashing an indifferent 13:00, without a clue of the location or part of the day. Then I remembered the night before and my 'still-in-London' inertia ended with my sudden transportation back to the India of my present. I was in Swami Parmanand's Ashram, thanks to the advertisement.
There were only two ways to get my sanity back - one was visit a shrink and the other was to try the path of spirituality. I wanted to be happy and free as that bird mentioned in the advertisement. The state I was in, I saw no harm in exploring if it meant the words or they merely made a clever headline!
I sauntered to the bathroom, brushed, bathed and shaved leisurely. It was two o' clock when I stepped out and I was hungry.
Still looking quite like a lost space traveller without time and physical coordinates, I followed the directions towards the canteen. When I reached there, its beauty halted my steps. The sprawling open space had small water fountains and a man made river flowing through it. Frolicking in this stream of water were some of the most beautiful fishes I had seen. Its roof was covered with acrylic sheets through which the sky came in. Bright green creepers hugged the pillars and the overhead beams. Banana and bamboo trees, lemon shrubs, cactus and flowers landscaped it beautifully. The name of the canteen -Ecosystem was written with bamboo sticks fixed over a mud plastered wall on which grew lush green grass to enhance the lettering. The entire place resonated with nature and I felt I had arrived not at a canteen but an oasis.
I asked what was available, unsure if they would serve me anything at that hour.
Thank God, they were!
The menu brought alive, long forgotten mouth-watering dishes that my mother used to cook for me. I ordered Daal Makhani, my favourite. Priya my first wife, arrived too, in that train of memories, which the menu signalled. She was a Britisher by birth but of Indian origin, much like my father who valued companionship over material gains. But because of the set of genes I had inherited from mother, I constantly frustrated her need to slow the pace of our lives. To me slowing meant being left behind.
Priya enjoyed cooking, painting and music and wanted to overlap her world with mine. She wanted us to be with nature and enjoy the beauty it had to offer. Yet, the vast untapped opportunities I saw in my rapidly expanding business made me feel that these could wait. It wasn't the proper time for an idyllic life.
With priorities heading in opposite directions, our marriage collapsed without the strength to resist those opposing forces...
The chilly dish I had eaten absent-mindedly, set my tongue on fire and interrupted my thoughts!
I hadn't reckoned what twenty years of eating bland food could do to me.
"You can combine curd with rice," the waiter offered helpfully, morphing immediately into a solemn, apron clad researcher, about to begin an experiment whose chief ingredient was I. I tested his hypothesis but found the mix too bland. I poured three more spoons of daal and stirred the mixture. This was better! The repressed gene for Indian food, slumbering in me was now, fully awake!
The research chemist winked at me encouragingly as his experiment met with success.
"Cheers!" I said as I lifted my spoonful, ready with a glass of water, just in case. As I was doing this, Sneha who had welcomed me the previous night with a hot cup of coffee appeared. She beamed a beautiful smile, unlike the fixed, riveted ones most receptionists have.
"Sneha! What a pleasure to see you!"
"I must say you have recovered admirably from your flight," she remarked.
"Come, share coffee with me, I owe you one! For disturbing you so late in night."
"Not now. You carry on! Had food and the spice?"
You bet! Together, me and my friend here were able to brew this heavenly dish!"
"Good for you," she remarked. "When you are through with your experimentation, join us for meditation. In the evening Swami Partibhan's will deliver his first discourse."
"Partibhan? I thought it was Parmananda!"
"Swami Parmanada took Samadhi, recently."
"Samadhi? You mean he is dead?"
"No. Samadhi isn't death. His was a willing renunciation of the body. Swami Partibhan has taken over where Swami Parmanada left."
Chapter 3
The lecture hall had a high ceiling and was cushioned with clean carpets.
The acoustics were such that it amplified even a whisper and this automatically induced silence. The ceilings were supported with steel trusses over which hung the lights and speaker systems. The huge windows on the sidewalls dissolved the boundaries between the hall and its beautiful natural surroundings, illuminated now by old fashioned, victorian lamps that housed incandescent bulbs. There were no chairs; people had to sit on the ground. Swami ji believed that earth grounded all negative energies that one accumulated due to stress or worries.
At seven o clock, Swami Partibhan arrived at the lecture hall. His soft watery eyes glistened with an intense expression that was hypnotic. Seated, he looked around and waited for everyone to settle. Then he addressed his discourse to us.
"Sermonizing is something people hate. Still, there are times when our work, our relations, and our health - everything troubles us. We feel troubled. However, the innate nature of our spirit and our surroundings is to be joyous. How do we achieve it?" He became silent, watching us intently, confirming he had our attention.
"I bow to the seekers of the divine. In a world where the media is the king and praises only financial figures, records and documented achievements, chasing spirituality, which is without glamour, is not an easy job. I bow to your spirit which believes in what no one has seen and determinedly marches on to a destination that doesn't reveal itself as readily as a small material goal.
The search of most human beings is eternal happiness.
Yet, why is it so elusive?
"Most human beings fail to achieve happiness by adopting different paths like idealism, spiritualism, capitalism, materialism, socialism or other isms. After spending years chasing these goals, people discover it has eluded the promise of happiness offered by them.
"Have you seen a bird die of starvation? Have you seen it worrying? It lives everyday joyously, without worrying for the next. If it had been like us, it would start hoarding grains for the next day, to survive and exist."
The gathering laughed.
"So if a bird can survive despite being frail and peaceful, then what are the people of this world doing, going to work places in the morning and then returning from those work places in the evening? Did the fleeting thought ever occur to you that perhaps we are living in an illusionary world? Built on our distorted perceptions and anxieties?
"To elaborate, imagine yourself to be the ball of a pendulum that swings. In your oscillatory motion, you as the ball of that pendulum believe that you are merely moving away and towards the centre. Yet, to a person outside that pendulum, one who has a broader perspective, the true essence of that pendulum is to mark time. The moves of a pendulum are not a meaningless rush away from the centre or towards it.
"Similarly, when you gain a spiritual perspective, you begin to grasp the higher truth and meaning of life by freeing yourself from anxieties, worries, wants, needs and insecurities. You step out of your aimless state.
Most of the humanity is busy mistaking its business to be the essence of life.
We wrongly believe that that is our real job in life.
So what is the real essence of our pendulum like existence? This we have to find out for ourselves. But the more you think of this world, the more you realize it's an illusion, incapable of giving true joy through achievements, success or accumulation of wealth. This life makes no sense to those who live with the sole object of fulfilling their material needs because they can never be fulfilled. We have to find its deeper significance."
Swami ji was quiet and it was obvious the discourse had ended.
"How will we find out?" I asked restlessly.
He smiled. "Don't be impatient. I'm quite sure that religion has failed primarily because it's dogmatic. A practical approach, especially in the imbibing stage can create a difference. Be patient, it's going to happen soon."
Chapter 4
I stood watching people, after the discourse. They belonged to all kinds - young and old, wealthy and the middle-class, peaceful and the restless - the usual chaotic mix. What brought them to this place? I noticed many enthusiastic teenagers too.
"What are you thinking?" I turned to see it was Sneha.
"Oh just that you have a comparatively younger crowd. I thought mostly old people join spirituality because they have nothing better to do."
"Age and experience have no relevance in the path of spirituality. When the eye of the mind opens, we see what we fail to see normally, but what exists in us forever."
"You are referring to the third eye they speak of, in mythology?"
"Yes, the inner eye of knowledge," she smiled.
You are serious most of the time but when you smile, you look beautiful.
She blushed, the rush of blood turning her face into a crimson red, which heightened her beauty.
"Yet, I don't know why I get this feeling there is a deep-rooted sadness which your eyes betray."
She looked up sharply at me. A brief uncomfortable silence lingered between us.
"Grief or unhappiness is what takes most people to spirituality," she said. "However, some people are born seekers. They are the lucky ones."
She turned away and left me standing where I was. I felt as if I had hurt her feelings or reminded her of a past she wished to forget.

As I walked further, I saw some people practicing singing. Spontaneously, this group broke into a melodious bhajan.
The singers were joyous and happy as they sang that bhajan.
Transfixed, I watched a man playing the guitar, and saw his fingers moving deftly over the strings. Even with closed eyes, he sensed my stare.
"You wish to play this guitar?" He shouted over the bhajan, sensing my wish. "Go ahead, try it." He stood up to give me his place.
"I don't know if I can play," I said uncertainly. "Long time, no use," I said, raising my fingers.
"If you wish to play from the heart, then all the skills will return."
I ran my fingers over the strings, tentatively at first, trying to match the tune with the rhythm of the song. I could play it! And the song went on:
I ran my fingers over the strings, tentatively at first, trying to match the tune with the rhythm of the song.
I could play it! And the song went on:
The flowers,
leaves,
and the ocean,
are all your creation.
In your image
you made me,
and then
you set me free.
All that you created,
remains
just the same,
no change whatsoever,
in your loving domain.
Yet tempted by
illusion.
I drifted in confusion,
wandering away from you
got lost without a clue.
I still remember the peace
'n joy which I knew
of times when I was
so close to you!
I yearn for your love
I deserved but lost
those moments
from a beautiful
but long forgotten past.
Take back this
weary traveller,
who lost his path,
suffered enough your anger
'n faced the world's wrath!
I need
nothing less,
except your
blessings 'n grace.
tired I am of
life's frenetic pace.
I rejected you
for false things,
n' false demi-gods
now I feel so sorry
for the time that I lost!
How wrong
was I,
how big
was my loss,
I realized
only now
at what
a mighty cost!
Forgive me '
n' show me
the way which
leads to thee,
'n in return
I promise
I'll forever
be true to thee,
I'll forever
be true to thee.
I felt joy and oneness with the group.
Only then I realized that I was playing my guitar even when the voices had died down.
As I came out of that intense experience in which I forgot myself, I heard the music I was making and it surprised me. Not only had my skill returned to me after so many years, I think I had excelled any effort I had previously made. I became aware of them, the people around me. I smiled in sheer embarrassment and stopped.
The group broke into applause.
"Wow!" The man with the guitar said. "I must take lessons from you one day. Too bad, I have to leave right away!"
Ramanujam, another spiritual guide at the ashram thumbed at me in a gesture of praise. "You have an unusual talent."
"I used to play it a long while ago and had forgotten it. I rediscovered the skill here among you and I don't think I played this well, ever before," I confessed.
"In that case this guitar belongs to you. Accept a gift from a brother," Rahul, the man who had shared his guitar was surprised.
His generous gesture left me speechless. "I can't possibly take this from you," I protested, when I recovered.
"I'll buy another. I think this one was made especially for you." He pushed it into my hands. "Have to leave now as my taxi is waiting."
And he left!
I had met people who outwardly claimed to be spiritual but could not work out their problems. They tried but failed to get over their petty nature. But Rahul's generosity made me wonder if some places had more power than others - to transform human beings.

The next day's morning meditation began at 5 am. We assembled when it was still dark. Soon the sky turned to a charcoal grey and then to a steely brilliance, the breeze flapping our clothes.
Guided by Sneha and Ramanujam, who supervised the morning classes, I settled into my meditation.
She told us not to struggle with our posture but to be comfortable and relaxed.
Sneha also asked us to watch and regulate our breathing and to slow it to a rhythmic pattern if it was fast and uneven. After a while, it became easy for me and I felt I was finally able to relax and meditate.
"Don't try to suppress thoughts because they are much like a spring. Push them down and they recoil. Watch them and tell yourself that you are not your thoughts. Negate all thoughts by saying - 'Neti, neti, neti,' which means - I am not this, I am not this thought. When thoughts leave us, then what remains is thoughtless awareness. In this domain, resides the Lord." She said.
With these instructions, she left me. Then she offered prayers on the behalf of the group.
We meditated on these prayers and sang devotional songs. The whole exercise had a calming effect. I went deeper and deeper into my meditation and felt peace within.
When told to open our eyes, to my wonder I saw the sky had turned into a golden red. The sunrays filtering through the clouds in the distant horizon looked spectacular. We were a small group of fifty or so people and we made a tranquil silhouette against the quiet horizon.
I wondered why some people had returned empty-handed from India. They were bitterly critical of Indian spirituality and the greediness of Indian Gurus. What I could see was only beauty and patience.

Chapter 5
Swami Partibhan began problem solving sessions twice a week, after some time and they were of a great help to me. After a brief discourse, he would ask us to present our problems and try to answer them with his ideas and suggestions which were not binding.
During this period, seeing the distress of others, I realized that materialism could be enjoyed but with a sense of detachment.
Only the divine was eternal, everything else had a shelf life.
Yet by connecting to the divine, we could transform our lives - from mediocrity to something that was akin to a tree - shade and fruit giving to every individual who came in touch with us. Like a lamp we could illuminate the darkness of humanity which was full of ignorance. And from being a transient bubble that forms and explodes, seemingly without meaning, we could become eternal by uniting with this great, primordial force! What a beautiful idea it was! We could reach such a state, by walking on the path of spirituality.
The turmoils of London had subsided and my mind had calmed down. I realized it wasn't what we had or didn't have that made a difference to our lives, but our outlook and approach was what decided how sad or joyous we were. My daughter's desertion, which earlier had a shattering impact on me, now appeared as her individual journey of self-exploration. She would make some mistakes hers, just as I made my own and also take some right steps. She would find her joys and sorrows, just as me or anybody. But in trying to control her I had made both of us unhappy. Every human being cherished freedom we and with this thought I forgave her. I was grateful to Swami Partibhan for providing me this perspective.

Things were cruising ideally when one day a major fire broke out on the third floor of the ashram. Copious smoke started emanating and I could hear cries of help and screams.
"Fire! Fire!" Someone came rushing down. "People are trapped and they need help!"
"Call the fire service!" Complete panic prevailed.
"We've called them - " Ramanujam said.
But the fire station is in the city! Far away! Someone shouted.
"The fire fighters will take at least forty minutes to arrive."
People were rushing out of the building with their belongings. The fire must have been a big one because the smoke nearly blacked out the sky.
I quickly discarded the thought of retrieving my belongings from my room when I saw the billowing smoke that cast a grim shadow over the grounds even on that sunny day. Certainly not worth risking life, I inferred.
More people rushed out of the building. In ten minutes, most of the inmates had left the building.
We could hear the screaming and the cries for help. I glanced at my watch. The fire fighters would arrive in thirty minutes.
In what appeared as an age but was less than twenty minutes, the smoke died down. The few disciples who had gone up to help, hadn't returned yet and most of us were anxious if there had been any casualties.
Then we saw them descending the stairs. They were smiling and waving at us.
"What happened?"
"Is anyone serious?"
"What about the fire?"
People on the ground mobbed them with their enquiries.
"The fire is under control. Fortunately, there aren't any casualties," Sneha reassured us, as she descended the stairs.
I sighed with relief.
"How much damage did the fire cause?" I asked.
"Only one room was damaged," she replied.
As people trickled back into to their rooms, to satisfy my curiosity, I visited the room that had caught fire and saw its soot covered walls. The furniture was charred and the door burnt. I was glad no lives had been lost.

By the time we settled, it was three o clock.
"Will Swami Partibhan still take up problem solving sessions today?" I asked Ramanujam.
"Yes, of course, but have your lunch first," he said.
We finished lunch quite late in the evening. Then, it was time to attend the evening discourse.
The fire incident was still fresh on our minds when we approached the lecture hall.
I wondered how we could have a session after such turmoil.
Swami ji however, appeared unruffled by the incident. He took his chair and didn't even mention the fire.
"Today, I am not going to give you any spiritual discourse. Instead, I wish to discuss only the problems that are troubling you."
That was unusual of him. He always talked about something or the other before he went into solving the problems of the collective. Maybe he too was upset with the fire. Then, as usual, a hand went up.
People asked a few questions. My attention kept going to the fire and the turmoil it had created.
Quite unexpectedly, someone asked a strange question. Not the question but Swami ji's response to it, captivated my attention.
"Why does God not solve all our problems, if he is almighty and powerful?" A young man had asked.
Swami ji did not reply to the question immediately but smiled. "You'll have to answer a few questions, before I answer yours."
"And what is it?"
"Before you came to this lecture hall, did you hear about the fire?"
"Yes."
"Were you aware of some people trapped in the blaze?"
So the fire had been on his mind, despite his obvious indifference.
"Yes."
"Did you hear cries for help - the shouts and the screams?"
"Yes."
"Were you told the fire engines would take an hour to arrive?" He looked amused, which appeared odd to me.
"Yes."
"Tell me what did you do?"
I rushed outside, with my belongings, to safety.
You didn't think of helping those caught in the blaze?
"I was..."
"You thought of your safety and not about the safety of others?"
"I am not a fire-fighter Swami ji."
"Still, six people took pains and tried to help in whatever little capacity they could... They did the best they could, even though they were untrained in fighting fires. What they had with them was the intent to help."
Complete silence prevailed in the hall, as Swami ji looked at us, still amused.
"Tell me what you would have done if it had been your son or your wife trapped in that fire? Would you still have stayed in the safety of the ground and waited for the fire service to arrive?"
The man was silent.
"You have to answer me, honestly. You ask me many questions, just answer this one. Would you have bothered then, if you were a fire-fighter or not?"
"I would have tried to help them." The man conceded self-consciously.
"Can you see your error? All of you! What you did, was it right? To secure your belongings while ignoring people who might be dying?"
"I see it as a failure on my part."
"Not only on your part, but of the entire collective!" Swami ji elaborated. "Except six people, none of you had any compassion for those trapped in the fire."
I was stunned. The thought that I had been callous had not even crossed my mind. Yet what Swami ji said was true. We were guilty of insensitiveness and I felt bad. I had worried but only for the safety of my belongings. I had been an indifferent spectator. In the end, I had even satisfied my curiosity by going to that room, but not when it was important.
My newfound spiritual high evaporated in that instant, leaving me with an empty feeling - of having failed.
My stay in the ashram was a fairy tale romance I was having with myself, in ideal settings that had nothing to do with real life.
The first practical test ended the myth.
I felt shattered by the knowledge that all this while I had only pampered my ego - I was downright selfish. If the fire hadn't tested me here, then I would have tumbled at the first real obstacle in the UK. Then perhaps I would have wondered why I was unable to have the same feelings of joy, which I had experienced in the ashram.
"That fire was not real," Swami ji said with a straight face. The words had an effect of an explosive dropped on us. "We created smoke to see how you would respond. We recorded all the voices that you heard. This was just a test to see how you put to practice what you learnt here."
I felt embarrassed as Swami Partibhan looked at us with a kind smile on his face. Despite our terrible behaviour, he wasn't angry with our failing. In fact it looked as if he had anticipated the result. My cowardly behaviour made me squirm in my seat.
"What happened today, in the afternoon is a sad reflection of the society as a whole. Everyone is living for themselves. And the habit has become so universal that we neglect others routinely, even when it is in our power to help reduce the suffering around us.
"How many of us waste our food and throw it into the garbage instead of searching and giving it to someone who might not have taken a day's meal, someone who is hungry? Have you stopped by to cheer the weeping child of a beggar? See if he needed medicines, milk or something important. Small things, little gestures but we ignore them. We never notice other people's pains."
No one replied.
An uneasy quiet settled within the room.
"The situations I just described put us in a position of power. If we help, it would be a miracle for the sufferers. And to them we would be gods, who took care of their desperate need of that moment."
I watched the light from the setting sun as it filtered through the ventilators and fell on the corridors. I wanted to be anywhere else but here and face myself. My cheeks burned with shame and guilt! I yearned for change but how was it going to take place?
"So what do you have to say Mr. Bamba? I recall you wanted spirituality to be practical. Any ideas?"
I didn't say anything but dug deeper into my seat. Any other time, I would have been proud that he knew my name. Now it merely increased my shame.
"If you feel sorry for what has happened then you can enrol for a workshop I'll be holding."
Everyone was looking at him intently.
"From tomorrow I am going to conduct a practical workshop for spiritual improvement. Would it interest you?" He smiled.
"What is it about?" One disciple couldn't hide his curiosity. "Will it teach us how to improve as people, practically?"
"Yes, my intent will be to free you as a bird. I will even call it Operation Free Bird!" He laughed.
Everyone looked excited at the prospect.
"Tomorrow morning, we will start a journey to Ganapati Phule in Ratnagiri. On foot."
"On foot!" Everyone was shocked.
"The conditions for this free seminar are that you will carry nothing with you. No suitcases, no water bottles, no beddings. You can carry a thin towel and a spare set of clothes and undergarments. Stuff these in your pockets or tie them on your waist, with any medicines you may need. No bags not allowed. We'll get rid of all the excess baggage we carry, most of the time!"
Murmers of protest flew.
A long journey without belongings?
How will we sustain it?
"I haven't finished. You will carry no money with you, no credit cards. No cell phones or beddings. And be forewarned, we are not going to make any advance provisions for food or shelter. We'll have to find them, on our own and without any help."
Pandemonium broke loose. The mango we thought we were going to relish, turned out to be a lemon! The gathering was no longer murmuring. They were protesting audibly, almost accusing Swami ji of mad behavior.
"Where will we eat then?"
"Where will we sleep?"
"Such a long journey without money? Unthinkable!"
Several questions flew in the air.
"Now let me see how many of you wish to benefit from this practical spiritual workshop?" Swami ji asked. He pretended as if he had not heard the protests.
"But how can anyone take such a journey?" Someone protested.
"Why not?"
"How will we survive without carrying the necessary belongings?" An anxious woman raised her voice.
"How does a bird survive every day of its life?" Swami ji countered. "What does it take from its nest? Money, water, food? Nothing at all! Yet it survives not only the day but also all its life. Can't you try to move without material belongings for a few days?"
"But -"
"In our anxieties and worries, we have forgotten what it is to live spontaneously. We have become so insecure, that we surround ourselves with more than is good for us. We keep hoarding more than we will ever need. And we plan, plan and plan but never seem to live life! Our tomorrows have killed our todays! If not your entire life, try to live every day of this journey with me, without a care of the future."
I watched and heard this man in absolute fascination.
How many of you are seriously interested in exploring the practical aspect of spirituality?
No one raised their hands. They merely exchanged looks - for some signal or reassurance that they were sane and Swami ji was mad!
"How long is the journey?" I managed to ask.
"Maybe 700 kilometres."
I was dismayed. I had thought it to be a small journey but this was a long one.
Still, I raised my hand because I wanted to change and desperately. I may not have volunteered to save people from the fire, but my hand was the first to go up, despite the strict conditions of the journey!
"Sitting here and listening to discourses won't be as useful as this journey because it will help you evolve and mature. If you have to become spiritual, you have to be detached from all that you cling."
Some more people raised their hands slowly. I counted them - just about fifty. About two thousand people were present in the hall.
"We begin our journey tomorrow then. At five o clock. You can drop out of the journey any time you feel. You have about twelve hours to convince yourselves, your wife, your parents or children."
He was indirectly reminding us of the challenges we would face. If I were going to learn practical spiritual lessons from this journey, as Swami ji had just said, then it would be worth every hardship.
I waited for the morning with eagerness.

Chapter 6
We had done almost ten kilometres by now. The breeze caressing my cheeks was pleasantly warm and the bright yellow mustard crop swaying besides the road gladdened my heart.
Most of the muscles of my body were aching but my enthusiasm for the journey was undiluted.
Let's take a break, Swami Partibhan said after sometime.
I was hoping that one of you would request a break but it turns out that though I proposed this yatra, it is you who seem stronger than me.
Do you drink lots of milk?"
We laughed at the joke.
The sight and sound of the water from a nearby tubewell made me aware of my thirst. I realized I needed water. The tubewell was pumping ground water and I was not sure if it was fit for consumption. I noticed that others were looking at the tubewell too, with a longing.
I saw a farmer working in the field and went up to him.
"Is this water fit for drinking?" I asked.
"Most of us drink this water," the farmer replied. "But the rich villagers don't. They are suspicious about its quality and drink only filtered water."
Swami ji, who had been listening, walked towards the tube well. We watched him intently as he took a sip from the gushing water.
"It appears all right."
I didn't know if he was trying to put us at ease or speaking the truth. I hesitated at the prospect of drinking that water as it wasn't filtered. It brought me face to face with the realities of the trip. My earlier euphoria vanished as anxiety took over. Everyone had warned me about the quality of water in India.
Just a moment ago, it was only the physical challenge of the journey, which had occupied my thoughts and thrilled me. Now I was staring at the can of problems we would most likely face, and worried.
Swami Partibhan drank water from the tube well and joined us beneath the banyan tree. I faced two alternatives - either drink the water or quit from the journey. I decided to drink the water. The water was sweet but what if it was contaminated?
Swami Partibhan sensed the group's hesitation.
Eighty percent of the people of India will not think twice before drinking from this source.
Ironically it is the rest of the twenty percent people who fill the multi-specialty hospitals in India and abroad.
Those who were not very affluent, laughed with him. Not others such as Roy, an architect by profession, Vibha a fashion designer, Shalini an interior decorator, Rohit and engineer and Vipul the businessman. They remained immobile.
"Are you suggesting we drink even dirty water just because we are spiritual and expect god to care of us?" Kulkarni asked. He was a retired professor and a volunteer worker at the ashram.
"Ha ha ha!" Swami ji laughed heartily. "They call it manipulated extrapolation of an argument, to suit one's thought. You forget that most of the villagers drink this water! So at least it cant' be rotten."
"Even if many people drink this water, its quality may still not be good," Kulkarni persisted with his argument.
"People regularly fall ill every year drinking water even from certified sources. We can argue to any lengths but how to differentiate between the truth and unreasonable anxiety?"
Kulkarni looked confused. He didn't have answers to that one.
Vipul Gupta, the millionaire known for his generosity, got up from beneath the banyan tree. Someone had told me at the outset of the journey that he was one of the ashram's biggest donors. He touched Swami's feet and said with folded hands:
"I wish to go home. I am afraid I can't drink this water."
"But why don't you drink that water and stay with us?" Swami ji's words were gently persuasive.
"I fear I will fall ill."
"Have you fallen ill in the past from drinking contaminated water?"
"Once, very badly. I landed in the hospital for a month due to lead poisoning."
So you decided never to take ordinary water.
The doctors told me that most probably, I was lead sensitive and advised me to drink filtered water only.
"Have you ever fallen ill after taking food cooked outside your home?"
"No."
"No restaurant cooks food in filtered water."
"I agree."
"Lead cannot be eliminated by boiling or by cooking. So, whenever you ate outside, you drank water that could have been contained by lead."
"Right but..."
"So you are not afraid of lead poisoning through water in the food you consume outside your home as much as you are afraid of drinking unfiltered water. The doctor's warned you about water and you accepted the warning at its face value. They didn't warn you of food, so that didn't worry you. Also, you forget the words 'most probably' used by the doctors."
"You can say so."
"Is your fear rational or irrational?"
"A very real fear for me."
"How can you break away from that fear?"
"By trying."
"So you can go back now and live forever with that fear, or you can try breaking that fear. Isn't that the reason why you are here - to get over the fear of uncertainty, hunger, cold, shelter and security? None of us know where we are going to eat today, if at all we shall get to eat. We don't know if we shall get quilts to sleep in the night. Why do you wish to continue clinging to a fear of yours when you can shed it easily? Why not surrender it to the feet of the almighty."
"I might die. I was very close to death, the last time."
"Death is close to us always. Why choose to live constantly under its fear? Death comes only once but its fear makes us die a thousand times. Ironically we do not fear death as much as we fear the fear of death."
So what do I do now?
Take a sip from that tube-well like all of us.
Or go back, as you please. The choice is yours."
The man left us!
Four more people joined him. We were twenty people now. From a crowd that had jostled for space, we had thinned out in a remarkably small space of a few hours. Complete silence lingered for a long while after his departure. The difficulties of the journey were beginning to dawn upon everyone.
"God bless them!" Swami ji broke the silence.
"How illogical was his fear," Shruti commented.
"Instead of judging him, we should take this as an opportunity to analyse our deepest fears," Swami Partibhan reproached her gently. "Though we may not have the fear of drinking this water, some of us fear losing the people we love; this fear can become an obsession. Others might have an exaggerated fear of losing their wealth! Most of us fear for our health, looks, positions, jobs or fame. In case of Vipul, his fear became visible first. He may have the fear of water, but not, I repeat, not the other fears that we might have."
The words silenced the mutterings. What he just said about each of us having our unique and exaggerated fears, which others didn't understand, was true. I too reflected on my fears and discovered that they were many. Yet how easy was it to dismiss another human being's anxiety as unreasonable.
"Do not criticize Vipul because there is much to criticize in all of us. You don't scorn or get angry with a one year old child if he refuses to walk or walks awkwardly. You deal him with patience and because you know how easy walking is, you also understand the child's fears. So knowledge should bring along with it compassion and understanding. It is ignorance which brings the worst in all of us."
Chapter 7
Three in the afternoon and hungry, with no idea where and how we would get to eat our first meal in this experimental journey!
I tried to keep my mind of this worry that was slowly beginning to grow on me!
"Swami ji, I need to eat," Piyush, who had been quiet until now, managed to raise her voice. She was a doctor, an MD in gynaecology. She was slightly over-weight and her rimless spectacles gave her an erudite look.
"Anyone has any suggestions?" Swami ji enquired with the amused unruffled half-smile of his.
"I'm sure you have, since you started this journey!" Vibha smiled.
"The spirit of surrender is all that I have with me. And the belief that he will provide what we require. Let's walk a little further," Swami ji said and resumed his walk nonchalantly.
We walked for another hour before we saw a dhaba - a small restaurant that serves food to traffic on the highway.
"I think it's time to try our luck and ask for a meal," Swami Partibhan said. With that he approached the cook who was stirring the cudgel. We followed him, to strengthen our cause!
In normal times, I wouldn't have considered this dhaba as fit for eating food because of its shabby construction and lack of hygiene - it didn't have class. In my altered circumstances however, I was intelligent enough to understand that the kind of places I normally patronized would never entertain the request we were about to make - they would throw us out!
The aroma of spices and hot food simmering on the ovens arranged outside the dhaba was maddening. But would we get food?
"We are pilgrims on a spiritual journey with no money. Can we still get some food?"
"I am only a servant. The owner has gone to the city to buy some groceries..." The man, answered politely.
"Then we shall wait," Swami ji said.
An hour had passed but we saw no sign of the owner of the dhaba.
Our hunger was unbearable now.
And we were not sure that the man would agree to feed us on his return.
"I think we should leave," Swami ji said.
We got up and left quite reluctantly.
Two more seekers from our group dropped out of our journey. They left on auto rickshaws, after seeing the difficulty we were having in getting food on the first day, in the first meal itself. We walked grimly as we tackled the doubts that began to haunt us.
We had moved in silence for about fifteen minutes when a motorcyclist stopped close to Swami ji.
"Forgive me Swami ji for coming late from the city, but you cannot leave from my dhaba without eating your lunch."
"Who are you?" Swami ji asked the man.
"I am a follower of yoursWhen you stopped at my dhaba for lunch, my servant didn't know who you were and you did not wait for me enough. Come back! You can't leave on a hungry stomach."
Our faces lit up with the brightest of smiles. We were going to get a meal when we had lost all hope of getting one!
We ate roti, daal and subzi and rice, which the man offered in generous quantities. The dhaba owner was extremely happy that god had given him an opportunity to serve his guru. He insisted we have tea and we drank our first cup since morning. The warmth and taste of it felt divine because of the special ingredients such as ginger, cloves and cardamom that the man added personally.
Diwakar, the dhaba owner touched Swami Partibhan's feet and folded his hands when we prepared to leave.
"God bless your spirit to serve. I thank you on the behalf of the whole group whose appetite you took care of. We would like to do something for you as a repayment to the meal you served. Tell us do any job or chore and we shall do it willingly."
I don't need anything from you Swami ji.
That you agreed to come back and visit my hotel is enough.
"I would still like to do something for you because you saved the day for us Diwakar. Because many people within this group were worried for food."
"If you wish to repay then I would like you to sing a bhajan here at my hotel."
Swami ji smiled. And so we all sang a bhajan. Diwakar too joined us. So heart stirring was the song that I had tears in my eyes as I became immersed in the divine name.

Your name's,
that holy water
that cleanses
my filthy soul

You are the refuge
and shelter
of the weak
and poor

Your name
is that music,
which makes
my spirit dance!

Your name
dispels the darkness,
of the human mind.
Your name
is that jewel
my soul
wishes to wear.

Let my lips utter
thy glory
now and forever!
Let my voice
sing your praises
and my thoughts
dwell on you,

Never again
for a moment
let me ever
forget you!
Never again
for a moment
let me ever
forget you!

The song made me wish I could sing but the pace was fast and the song new to me.
"You play the guitar exceptionally well," Swami Partibhan remarked, after the song. "You have a rare gift from God."
"Now I know why you are carrying this guitar with you," Tarun smiled. "I think it is like a part of you. You will be incomplete without it."
"You see so easily what I took many years to find."
Finally, we took leave from Diwakar and resumed our journey.
I could not help but wonder at the unexpected turn of events. One minute there was this despair and the next minute we had a full stomach. The sun set besides us, and the night crept in quickly. We were still quite far from Ojhar township.
Chapter 8
At seven, we reached a cluster of houses.
Night was approaching and so we began looking for a suitable shelter. Soon, we spotted a farmland with a big kuchha house.
Swami ji approached the house and knocked at its gate. A young man emerged.
"We are pilgrims on a journey to Ratnagiri and need shelter. Would you be kind enough to give us refuge for the night."
"This house doesn't belong to me. I'm a servant and the master is out of station..." The man seemed to hesitate.
"Oh," Swami ji said and turned back.
"Wait. You can do no harm by staying here for one night. Come in."
"Are you sure you won't be in trouble for this?"
"I don't think my master will mind. Even if he scolds me, it will still be one person suffering instead of so many of you."
His helping nature touched a cord in our hearts.

An hour later, Madhoo, the servant turned up as we prepared to settle for the night.
"Will you have rice or roti for your dinner?" It was surprise for us since we never expected food.
"You have already taken so much trouble..." Swami Partibhan protested.
"You ask for shelter and refuse food. Do you want me to sin by leaving you hungry while we eat food?"
"All right. Please give us whatever you are having."
"My wife is cooking rice and curry."
"We shall love it too," Swami ji said.
"And we shall help your wife." The women in our group volunteered to help Madhoo's wife in her cooking.
We strolled in the farmhouse and saw another room besides the barn and the tractor garage.
"What's that?"
"It's the home for our old cow," Madhoo replied.
"An old cow?"
"Yes. Since it gets really cold during the nights we gave her the spare hall to keep her warm."
"Does she give milk?" Subhir asked.
Madhoo laughed with simplicity. "How can an old cow give milk?"
"Then why do you keep her here?"