“Yes, of course. We will go there no later than seven tonight. There will be a special surprise waiting for you if we could be there at exactly that time.”
“A surprise? What?”
“You will be pleasantly amazed by what will take place, but first let me give you a further taste of my city,” he said in a soothing voice.
Lalit explained that Jaipur was a fascinating city, much cleaner than Delhi. It had an energy of its own, and, like other big cities, its own differences. Jaipur was the capitol of the state of Rajasthan, which is mostly desert. Many of the women showed a distinct preference for bright clothing when they worked in the fields, adding a dash of color and life to this otherwise barren terrain. The patches of brightly colored saris—reds, dazzling yellows, lively greens, and brilliant oranges—punctuated the landscape, bringing it to life.
***
Later that night, Rick and Lalit arrived at the temple at six forty-five. There were only a few people standing inside. Many more stood outside.
“How old is this temple, Lalit? It doesn’t look old.”
“It is not old. It was built of the purest marble in 1988 and is a blend of architectures of different times. Look at the ceiling and tell me what you see.”
“I see some sculptures that look like flowers.”
“Yes, they are lotus blossoms carved from a single piece of marble, and look at the stained glass windows all around you. They are so dramatic and so beautiful.”
They were, indeed, beautiful. Rick looked at his watch. It was five minutes to seven and still only a handful of people were inside.
“Stand in the front,” Lalit said. “Just behind the red velvet ropes.”
Rick moved behind the velvet rope and turned around. It was three minutes to seven. A few more people entered the temple. Lalit leaned toward him and whispered, “This temple is dedicated to Lord Vishnu. Lakshmi is his consort, a female with four arms and four hands. You will see her colorful statue. She wears red clothes with gold lining, sits on a lotus flower, and has gold coins in her hands.”
Rick wasn’t sure why Lalit waited until the last minute to tell him these things, but at least it gave him some understanding of what was yet to come.
Within one minute, the small temple was overflowing with people. The red curtain sprang open and the excitement began.
In the center of the small stage was a statue of Lakshmi. Her appearance matched Lalit’s description. Two men leaped onto the stage in white cotton clothing with large bass drums, beating on them loudly. The beats were so dramatic that they resounded in Rick’s ears. He was so close to the action. Then the drummers threw their drumsticks back and forth to each other with amazing precision while another man with a flaming torch began to slowly dance around the statue of Lakshmi.
One of th men stopped, lowered the flame down his throat, and blew out fire. Flashing lights and the loud sound of the drums surrounded Lakshmi, who was draped in a red sari. Her lips and cheeks were painted bright red. She sat on a lotus flower with a pot in one of her four hands, surrounded by statues of white elephants.
The excitement continued dramatically. The man’s torch soon turned into dark smoke that trailed behind him as he danced around Lakshmi.
Another man appeared and picked up large brass cymbals. He clashed them over and over again, accompanying the loud bangs on the bass drum as he danced around Lakshmi, faster and faster. Rick was mesmerized by what was going on in front of him and was immersed in every movement that took place on the small stage. It was a magnificent surprise for him, indeed.
At the end, Rick was speechless and quiet for a long time, touched to the point that he couldn’t speak. Lalit’s small smile and bright eyes hinted that he was aware of Rick’s feelings about the performance that had just transpired.
Lalit had seen the event many times. Rick asked him why two of Lakshmi’s four arms were raised.
“They were raised to bless you, Rick. She is the goddess of wealth, fortune, beauty, luxury, power, and fertility.”
Rick did feel blessed. Another side of life had presented itself and triggered questions in him about his beliefs. There was still a space in his thinking, a place he had once known when he was young, but forgot.
Chapter 14
Lalit and Rick had dinner at the elegant Hotel Raj Palace. Diners approached their table to share a few words with Lalit. He was well-known on television as an interviewer of famous and interesting people.
After dessert and tea, they walked outside and waited for the valet to bring Lalit’s white Mercedes around.
Lalit pointed to the high ceiling outside the entrance and asked, “Why do you think the ceiling is so high?”
Rick shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it just makes the entrance more dramatic?”
“Ah, yes it does, but the most important reason is because many years ago people arrived astride an elephant, so the extra height was necessary.”
“Wow, what a majestic scene that must have been,” Rick marveled, looking up at the ceiling.
“Yes, it was. Even now, for weddings, the groom will arrive on a decorated elephant during the Baratt, the wedding procession. The elephant is a symbol of good luck and prosperity and joy for the couple. It was an elegant way to get to the Raj Palace.”
“Elegant, indeed. I love India. All these small bits of information tell a story.”
“I can feel your love for India and so it has to be that you must continue to soak up the essence of India. Only when you immerse yourself in our culture will you be able to accomplish the things you must. You are here on a mission, to find your son. India will help you, just by you being here.
“Trust me. Sometimes you have to let things unfold naturally. Get to know India, visit many of the sights, talk to the people, and spend many moments such as the ones we are sharing tonight. It will help you in your search. When you get to know India and its people, you will find your son. Things just happen that way.”
“It sounds like a metaphysical connection.”
“It is.”
***
The next day, they were up early for the two hundred kilometer drive to Sawai Madopur, the closest town to the Ranthambhore Tiger Reserve. They only stopped a few times to “make urination.”
For a few nights, their home would be at the eleven-room castle, Jhoomar Baori, which was a Rajasthan Tourism Development Corporation government hotel, seven kilometers from the Tiger Reserve and near the thousand-year-old Ranthambhore Fort.
They went to the fort and Lalit told Rick about an event that took place here. It was the story of a king who went out to battle and had been away from the fort for several months. A traitor who hated the king spread the false news that the king had been killed in battle. After hearing that, his five wives performed Jauhar by jumping into a raging fire to kill themselves.
The king returned, learned the fate of his wives, and found the traitor who had spread that rumor. He personally cut off the traitor’s head and placed it on display so people could throw stones at it. A stone head of the traitor was still in place, keeping with the legend, and visitors who knew the story threw stones at it.
Lalit and Rick ventured into the Tiger Reserve, riding in a Jeep with a driver and a scout who searched out wildlife. Rick didn’t take a camera on this expedition because he wanted to keep the moments he experienced in his mind instead of taking the time to focus and compose the perfect picture.
The Jeep stopped a short distance from a tiger with her three cubs. They left footprints in the sand as they nonchalantly walked along a dirt road. Rick was uneasy at first about being so close, but Mrs. Tiger just ambled along with only a glance toward them.
Later, Rick spied a beautiful male tiger who sat about fifty feet away and appeared to be disinterested in making a good meal of him. The tiger licked his paws, washed his face, and appeared to be bored. He turned his back and walked into the brush.
The next morning, Rick awoke early. Lalit was gone, but he soon came
storming into the room and announced that there was a lion on the deck and that it was walking aimlessly around the patio furniture. Rick quickly put on his shorts and a T-shirt and ran barefooted outside.
As it turned out, the ‘lion’ was a leopard, but it didn’t matter. He watched the leopard sniff around the patio tables, possibly searching for some leftover breakfast delicacies. Rick moved to about ten yards from the leopard, who lifted his head and stared at him for a moment with his oval green eyes. Rick remained motionless until the leopard turned and walked away.
Rick was glad he didn’t have a camera. He would have missed the captivating moment of them looking into each other’s eyes out in the open with no bars between them.
On their way back to Jaipur, Lalit and Rick stopped at an outdoor market in Sawai Madhopur to find something for lunch. Vegetables, fruit, and piles of colorful spices were everywhere. They bought papaya, bananas, guava, and pomegranates, then looked for a place along the drive back to stop and eat.
Lalit stopped at a small outdoor refreshment stand at the edge of a farm that served snacks, coffee, and chai. Lalit greeted the owner with a hug and a smile. His name was Ranjit. He was about forty, tall and thin with a slim black mustache. Rick assumed Lalit and Ranjit knew each other, but they didn’t. It was just Lalit’s gracious manner to be so friendly. It was the Indian way.
They brought their fruit with them and sat at an outdoor table near the country road. Lalit introduced Rick as a traveler from America. Ranjit asked his assistant to peel the papaya, prepare the other fruit, and serve it with cups of chai. The three of them talked about life in the countryside as Lalit translated.
They spoke in Hindi. Rick listened to their lilting tones and watched their hands in constant motion. Lalit turned to Rick. “He says he was born right here on this farm and intends to live out his life here. Everything he needs is right here. His farm, his friends, and the people who stop in for chai. He said he is a simple man blessed with a simple life. He has his books, his music, his farm, his friends, and God.”
Here is a human being pleased with his life. What a gift.
This man’s outlook made Rick contemplate his own existence in a new way. Maybe the colonel was right. The simple life was most fulfilling and without pain.
After a few hours of eating, drinking, and conversation, they said their goodbyes. Lalit asked Rajit how much they owed him. He answered in Hindi. As they walked away, some Indian children in their school uniforms stood by the roadside and waved.
“Lalit, did you pay him anything?”
“I offered, but he wouldn’t accept any money.”
“Did he say why?”
“He said he enjoyed the conversation and was honored that we stopped at his farm, but out of respect for you, a foreigner who appeared to love his country, he couldn’t take any money.”
“Lalit, I thought this man was living in poverty. Why wouldn’t he have taken some money? He’ll never see us again.”
Lalit laughed. “No, my friend, he was not living in poverty. He was just poor. Poverty is not a good thing, but being poor does not mean you’re unhappy. Poverty is bad, and even though the food is cheap in India, people who live in poverty often sleep on the street and don’t even have a few rupees for food. But being poor in India is unrelated to happiness and fulfillment.”
Rick wanted to be like Rajit. He had what Rick wanted and never found. Maybe his desire for computers, cars, and modern luxuries would not allow that to happen. He was too far gone.
He thought of the colonel and how he’d explained Sikhism and Buddhism. For a Sikh, suffering ended when attachments to worldly possessions ended. Rick was addicted to his possessions. He didn’t own them. They owned him. The colonel had also said that, for a Buddhist, suffering ends when attachment to desire ends. His time with the colonel was fulfilling, a learning experience like no other. Rick realized that Rajit was the embodiment of these ideals.
Chapter 15
Later that night, Lalit drove Rick to the Jaipur train station, where Rick was booked on the midnight train to Jodphur. Lalit had to leave before the train departed to do a late night interview with India’s defense minister, who would be describing his function as overseer of national security and commenting on the recent terrorist attacks. Lalit told Rick that the minister was a trusting, highly spiritual, peaceful man and an unlikely person to be a defense minister who had to deal with the death and destruction of war and terror.
They said their goodbyes with a long hug, and Rick waited for the train. It was on the track, but, after waiting fiteen minutes past the scheduled time, he asked the conductor if anything was wrong and learned that, because of mechanical failure, it would be delayed three hours.
A man approached him and pointed to his black limousine. He said he would drive him to Jodhpur for 1750 rupees, which was a reasonable sum. Rick originally planned to go to Jaisalmer, but Jodhpur made more sense because it was a larger city with lots of live musical entertainment that would provide better opportunities to find Eric. Jaisalmer would come next because he did, indeed, want to ride a camel in the desert.
The driver’s name was Manu Singh. He was young—about twenty-five—thin, and light skinned. His black, oily hair was combed straight back. His eyes were unusually dilated, but he seemed to be alert.
Rick tossed his backpack on the rear seat, up against the door, so he could use it as a pillow. It was a cold night. Luckily, there was a blanket folded neatly on the seat. Off they went on a three hundred and fifty kilometer journey that would take about five hours over narrow country roads.
Rick had arranged to stay at a traditional guesthouse when he arrived in Jodhpur. It was called RC Niwas and was on the edge of the Thar Desert. It was a family-run place, built a hundred years ago, and offered home-cooked veggie dishes. He would arrive early in the morning after a good night’s sleep in the limo.
Rick closed his eyes and thought about India. He had two competing thoughts. He always missed the place he left, but looked forward to where he was going. This was a mysterious land, and his anticipation of the unexpected kept him energized.
Manu’s car radio pumped out loud music that played constantly while he talked nonstop on his mobile phone. It seemed as if it would be an uneventful journey.
Rick made efforts to sleep, but the constant hairpin turns over bumpy roads made it impossible, plus the loud music was an intrusion on his senses.
After about two hours, Manu pulled into a small, rundown neighborhood with lots of late night bars pouring music into the streets while young, ominous-looking people walked by. Manu got out, said he would be right back, locked the doors, and left.
He was gone over an hour. During that time, young men, some drunk and weaving, passed the car and showed their fists. Rick could not go to sleep, not with the likes of the people who passed by. They were probably innocent enough, but Rick’s imagination got the better of him and overtook his senses.
He didn’t know of a way to contact Manu. He tried to find ways to unlock the doors, but there were no visible switches. Rick remembered that, after the trip was arranged, someone had called his cell phone to confirm it. Obviously, Manu worked for a large company, so now Rick had a phone number to call.
“Hello. May I speak to Manu Singh?”
“Sorry, Manu is out driving someone to Jodhpur. Do you need any service? I can help you.”
“My battery is down on my mobile. I can’t talk long. I’m the one he is driving to Jodhpur, but he disappeared over two and a half hours ago and left me here in a locked car. Please call him.”
At that point, his phone lost all power. Five minutes later, Manu appeared. He looked sleepy and stoned and said nothing.
“Where were you?” Rick asked, irritated.
“I had to sleep for a while, I was very tired. I know this girl who lives here, right around the corner. I slept for a while, and before I left, the girl, she wanted it.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Okay, I’m glad you’re he
re, so let’s get going.”
They drove for almost an hour when Manu said, “Could I sleep for a while?”
“Sure, we’ll both sleep.”
They pulled up outside an all night convenience store, and it only took a few seconds before Manu drifted off. Rick closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he was wired. After about an hour, they were both awake. They sat and talked.
“Manu, I see you like music. I found myself getting interested in the music you were playing.”
“I like it very much, sir. I am a musician. I play keyboard and guitar. I played in nightclubs in Madras for several years and I go to many concerts where is played good music.”
“Where do you find the best popular music in India?”
“The best music it is in the cities. The two cities I like most for music is Madras, which you may know as Chennai, and Bombay.”
“Did you play professionally?”
“Most certainly, sir. I played with good musicians, mostly in Madras, but once in Bombay.”
“Did you make albums of your music for sale?”
“We did, indeed, sir.”
“Tell me, Manu, did you use a sound recorder when you made your CDs?”
“We would like to do this, but these people cost a lot of money. In Madras, sometimes we can find someone who will do it for little money, but the first class sound recorders, they are working in Bombay, many in Bollywood. The best of these people work for small studios and do very high class work.”
“I’m looking for someone who is a very good audio engineer. I know he is in India.”
“Oh, he is most probably in Bombay, but it is good to look in Jodphur, where we are going, and in the big cities along the western coast. May I know the nature of why you must find him?”
Meeting Max Page 11