“And who is your young friend, my son,” the king asked gesturing towards Yeshua.
“Father, may I present to you Yeshua from Nazareth,” Ganesh replied.
Ganesh asked Yeshua to stand up in Hebrew. Young Yeshua did as told but lowered his eyes in respect to the king.
“Do not be afraid, my child,” said the king. “You may gaze upon me.”
Prince Ganesh translated before Young Yeshua raised his eyes towards the king. He said nothing. The palace was now smothered in silence.
“He is a young master, father,” Ganesh continued, “I had a dream about him, and I am convinced that, given our resources and training, he will grow and walk in his destiny.”
“I trust your judgment, my son,” replied the king, carefully studying the young Master. “Besides, his aura glows very brightly; brighter than normal.”
After a few moments, the king nodded and turned his gaze towards his son.
“You have done well, Ganesh. This young man is an old soul. He is a master of many lifetimes. He just needs a few… reminders and he will remember everything.”
He tapped Yeshua gently on the head and smiled.
“Thank you, father,” Ganesh replied with a broad smile.
No one else in the palace had heard their conversation just now. Ganesh explained to Yeshua what just happened and Yeshua asked Ganesh to extend his most profound gratitude to the king for the king’s kindness and generosity. Ganesh relayed the message, and the king nodded. As the king started his way up to the throne again, the royal announcer motioned for the festivities to resume. Ganesh then made his way up the stairs into his mother’s open arms. His mother was beaming with pride. She held Ganesh by the shoulders, at arm’s length, kissed him on both cheeks, and hugged him again.
“I have missed you so much, my son,” the queen said tearfully. “I thought these ceremonies would never end!”
“Oh, mother! I have missed you too,” he replied, kissing his mother on her forehead. “I see you are doing well. Father must be taking great care of you.” He grinned mischievously. “After all,” he added, “only the most beautiful woman in the kingdom is fit to be the wife of the king, no?”
Queen Sangita turned as red as a fully ripe tomato.
“And you talk just like your father,” she replied.
They laughed and hugged each other again.
The queen had barely peeled herself away from her son when Suri threw herself on him, almost knocking him to the ground. She was so fond of her elder brother.
“I thought all the gallantry would never end, brother!” she said still pressed tightly against her brother. “It just seemed like an eternity for you to get to up here.”
“I have missed you too, my dear sister,” Ganesh replied and took a step back to give an appraising look. “By the gods, you are growing more and more beautiful by the day. And did Hina make this dress?” he asked, spinning her around.
She gladly complied and showed off the dress.
“Yes, she did!” was her reply.
“She has the most gifted hands!” he added.
Gulam half ran, half walked over and hugged him.
“What are you feeding him, mother?” Ganesh asked.
“Oh, Ganesh,” the queen raised her hands in the air in mock resignation. “There is not enough food in the kingdom to satisfy your brother. He eats a feast every day, and he keeps growing taller and stronger.”
“You do not say, mother,” agreed Ganesh, feeling his brother’s arms. “I am not entirely sure I can arm-wrestle him.”
“Would you like to give it a try, brother?” asked Gulam.
“Only after you tell me what your secret is, big man,” he replied. “I have missed you so much, brother. We have much to catch up on, I hope.”
He noticed Gulam blush slightly, and he nodded his understanding, a sly grin forming on his face.
“How is Ada doing, by the way?” Ganesh asked.
“Brother!” Gulam exclaimed and blushed even more.
“Alright! Alright!” Ganesh feigned resignation.
Ganesh then proceeded to introduce young Yeshua to the rest of the family and gave them a compendium of how the young master ended up coming with him to India. The royal family was intrigued and welcomed the Young Master from the West. Young Yeshua was led to his living quarters, where two naked, young maidens were waiting to give him a bath. His hesitation was understandable. But after Ganesh explained to him that it was a customary for the servants to bathe the rich and the royal and that the servants would feel insulted if their master did not let them perform their duty, Young Yeshua finally conceded. Seeing naked women for the first time elicited a physical reaction that caused him to remain in the bathtub after his bath. The maids used a lot of smiling and gestures of encouragement before the young master would let the young maidens towel him down and get him dressed.
A few hours later, Ganesh met the young master in his room, and the two of them joined the rest of the royal family for supper. Young Yeshua had never seen such a banquet before, and he was a little overwhelmed. He sat next to Ganesh and Ganesh did his best to bring him up to speed with some of the customs and expected table manners. The young master was also a center of attention, but Ganesh and Suri tried to put him at ease. After all, he was the young master from the holy lands of the west. Musicians played instruments and sang, young maidens danced, and guards kept a watchful eye the entire time. The food was delicious, and the young master was stuffed an hour later. The cooks were pleased to find that Young Yeshua had no trouble burping repeatedly. Ganesh later explained to young Yeshua that burping during and/or after a meal was a big compliment to the cooks and host.
Ganesh accompanied the young master to his quarters, where the same maidens who had given him a bath earlier were waiting for him. They undressed him and slipped on his sleeping outfit. Yeshua never had sleeping outfits before! So, this was also new for him, among other things. He relished in the feel of the linen on his body. A few moments later, Ganesh returned to Young Yeshua’s quarters with an elderly gentleman. Ganesh introduced the man as the king’s seer and told Young Yeshua that the man was going to give Young Yeshua an examination of the esoteric kind. The king’s seer bowed, walked over to the young master and took the young master’s hands in his. He studied Yeshua’s hands carefully and nodded. He then took a step back and gave the young master a slow, appraising look from head to toe. Next, he closed his eyes, and his face became very still. After a few heartbeats, he opened his eyes and bowed towards to the young master. He then spoke to Ganesh, who nodded as the seer stepped out of the room.
“That will be all for tonight, girls,” Ganesh spoke to the maids, who were standing in a corner of the room, waiting for their next orders. The maids bowed and exited the room.
“The seer said the same thing my father said earlier,” Ganesh said to the young master in Hebrew. “You are, indeed, an old soul: a master and enlightened one from many lifetimes ago. So, your training will be a lot easier than most because you may only require a few reminders and the memories will return.”
“So, when do I start training?” the young Master asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” replied the crown prince walking towards the door. “Tonight, you must rest. I understand you are overwhelmed by all this,” he waved around the room.
“I am indeed overwhelmed, your highness,” agreed the young Master. “Do you know what my first lesson will be?”
“Yes, I do,” Ganesh replied. “Tomorrow, you will learn how to access the Realm-Dimension of Akasha.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: PROFILE OF A PRIEST
NAME: Patrick Ngolle
DATE OF BIRTH: February 27th, 1982
PLACE OF BIRTH: Kumbo, NW Province, Cameroon, Central Africa
FATHER: Constantine E. Ngolle, August 4th.
MOTHER: Bernadine K. Ngwa, November 4th, 1955.
O. R. MEMBER: July 3rd, 2000 to present.
O. R. STATUS: Protégé of Father Supreme.<
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CODE NAME: Ether
Despite his parents’ separation when he was eight years old, Patrick had a great childhood. A baptized and confirmed Catholic, receiving his elementary and high school education in Catholic schools, Patrick would later consider himself spiritual and not subscribe to any religion. It was pointless to completely limit oneself to the dictates of any form of institutionalized teachings, he believed. Oh! Patrick was also a stutterer, but the stuttering seemed to wear off as he grew older. There were three major turning points in his life.
The first major turning point occurred when Patrick was four years old. His father worked for the government at the time as an administrator in a little town called Mamfe. Mamfe was part of Meme Division in the Southwest Province. Working for the government back then, life was good. One night, Patrick had to use the restroom and everyone in the house was asleep. For a child of his age, he had no fear of the dark, and he valued his independence, especially after he could use the restroom by himself. That night, after taking care of business, he decided to pay a visit to the refrigerator; the sirens were serenading him in the form of leftover chocolate cake. Even better, the cake was within his reach!
Patrick took a bite of heaven, and his buccal cavity went ballistic. As he munched away, he thought he heard a noise behind the back door. Patrick ignored the sound, but when he heard it again, his childlike innocence prompted him to find out what the noise was all about. He closed the fridge, walked to the backdoor, placed his ear on the door and listened for the sound. When he still could not identify the sound, he decided to get a better look for himself. He could reach the door knob, but he needed some help with the latch. Help came in the form of a stool and when Patrick poked his head through the opened the door, he saw something he had never seen before.
Patrick was stared into the glowing eyes of an awe-inspiring canine creature. On its limbs, it was considerably taller than Patrick, and its fur was immaculate white and perfectly groomed. But this beautiful beast did not frighten Patrick. Out of childlike curiosity and innocence, Patrick smiled and raised his hand to touch the creature’s snout. Surprisingly, the beast started licking Patrick’s palm. Giggling with glee, Patrick took a step forward and held the beast’s snout in both his hands. He then proceeded to stroke the beast’s neck gently and tenderly as the beast nuzzled against Patrick. The beast then took a step back and stared at Patrick.
“My name is Ashram,” it spoke telepathically.
“Hey!” Patrick exclaimed in like manner. “You can talk! This is so cool!”
“Yes, Patrick,” it replied telepathically. “I can talk, and you must listen now, alright?”
“Okay, Ashram,” Patrick agreed in like manner.
“Good,” Ashram said. “I am the first-born of all the Hounds and our duty, amongst others, is to seek out unique creatures in every realm and dimension.”
“I don’t understand, Ashram,” Patrick said.
“In due time, you will!” it assured Patrick. “Alright?”
“Alright,” replied Patrick.
“For now, you must go back to sleep and this,” Ashram raised his snout in the air, “will all seem like a dream to you. Go now, my little friend. Sleep peacefully.”
And with these words, he turned around and started walking into the darkness as he disintegrated into thousands of tiny, sparkling dusts in the night. Patrick stepped back into the kitchen, locked the door with the key, used the wooden stool to return the latch to its original position, walked back to the room and climbed back on his bed as if in a trance. To Patrick, it was just a dream. As the last specks of sparkling dusts disappeared into the night, the clocks and watches started resumed ticking. Time and space were no longer shielded in an etheric bubble.
The second major turning point in his life occurred during the first term of his third year of secondary school at Sacred Heart College, Mankon, Bamenda, the capital city of the Northwest Province, Cameroon. It was mid-November, and the harmattan was merciless. Patrick was returning to the dormitory from the refectory, after another bland but hunger-quenching lunch. He cursed when he saw his two least favorite humans in the world. He did not disguise his disdain for these bullies, whom he had befittingly dubbed Sir Chubby and Sir Twigs. When he was a few paces away from them, Sir Chubby reached out and grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him into the wall.
“I thought we told you to get us fish rolls from the square every day for lunch,” spat Sir Chubby.
“And I thought I told you I don’t run a charity,” replied Patrick without skipping a beat.
Sir Chubby did not appreciate Patrick’s act of defiance. He released Patrick’s shirt and threw a fist at Patrick’s gut. But Patrick moved his hip to the left and Sir Chubby’s fist crashed into the wall. There was a wail of in pain and a broken wrist. Sir Twigs, not wanting to look foolish in front of a younger student, cocked his left leg and aimed for Patrick’s knee. Patrick read the move and extended his right foot forward. Sir Twigs banged his toes against the sole of Patrick’s shoe. Sir Twigs broke a few toes and tore a ligament or two in his left ankle. He yelped in pain and crashed to the ground as he cradled his hurting foot.
By this time, students were gathering by the numbers, and most of them saw what happened to Sir Twigs. The senior prefect, Eric Mekong, happened to have been walking by at the same instant and by an unjust rule, the younger, smaller-framed Patrick was guilty of brutally assaulting two older, bigger-framed senior students and deserved some severe punishment, if not suspension or even dismissal. Patrick was about to be hauled away to the upper-sixth dormitory when a voice from the crowd froze everyone in place.
“Let him go, young man,” said the priest, “I’ll take care of him myself.”
“But Father-” Eric started to protest.
“I saw everything, and, as I said, I will take care of him,” the priest said. “Have some students take these buffoons to the infirmary, will you?”
It was more of an order than a request.
“Yes, Father,” Eric replied and did as he was told.
The bullies would eventually recover from their injuries, but they would never recover from their broken egos. After all, the two of them got beaten up by a junior student. The crowd started to disappear. Patrick still had his back to the wall. His classmates and friends cheered him on while the older students gave him death stares. Patrick was torn between feeling good about his heroics and feeling terrified for making it to the top of the senior students’ ‘Most Wanted’ list. He peeled himself away from the wall and was about to head to his dormitory when he heard a voice call out to him.
“Patrick!” it was the priest who had just saved his butt.
Patrick was surprised the priest knew his name. He stood up straight and walked towards the priest.
“Yes, Father,” Patrick replied.
“Where did you learn?” asked the priest.
The priest radiated a certain aura of authority that made Patrick shudder involuntarily.
“I watch too many action movies, Father,” he replied in earnest.
The priest nodded slowly.
“Come over to chapel after your 3 pm studies,” he said as he started walking away. “I have something to show you.”
“Yes, Father,” Patrick replied.
He assumed he was in some very deep trouble.
3 pm studies ended at 4:30 pm, and then it was time for sports. But Patrick skipped sports to honor his summons. Every now and then, a priest would come from another parish within the country or abroad and spend a year or two at the school to assist in teaching and communal services. This priest was one of such priests, and he was relatively new to the school. Rumor had it he was from Italy. Patrick walked into the chapel, genuflected facing the crucifix and traced the sign of the cross on his face, navel and chest. He then chose a corner in the chapel that kept him hidden from outside view and forgot to dust off the pew before sitting down. He cursed out loud, forgetting he was in church. The priest was late! Fe
eling a little restless, Patrick knelt on a kneeler and started reciting the Rosary.
“What an oxymoron!” the priest said, startling Patrick out of his skin. “I never knew a man of violence could be a man of prayer.”.
“Tell that to St. Ignatius Loyola, Father,” Patrick rebutted and sat on the pew.
“Touché, young man!” replied the priest amusedly.
“You asked me to meet you here,” Patrick said with just a dash of teenage attitude.
“Very well,” said the priest. “Let’s get down to business. But first, do you have any questions for me?”
“Are you really from Rome?” asked Patrick.
“Yes, I am,” was the reply.
“Do you see the Pope all the time?” Patrick continued.
“Not all the time,” the priest replied with a chuckle. “Maybe once every two months.”
“What?!” Patrick exclaimed, “How come you don’t see him every Sunday during mass?”
“Do you know what purpose is, Patrick?” the priest asked out of the blue.
“No,” he replied, “and how do you know my name?”
The priest then stood up and walked through the pew that separated them before sitting next to Patrick. Patrick’s rational mind tried to make sense out of what he had just seen, but his irrational mind screamed with curiosity and excitement.
“How did you do that?!” he asked barely able to contain his excitement.
“There are many things I would like to teach and show you, Patrick,” continued the priest ignoring the question. “But first, you must be reminded of something that is lost to you. Would you like for me to help you remember?”
Patrick hesitated for a moment. But then, he thought, that if this priest could walk through solid matter... He nodded.
“Okay!” said the priest.
The priest put his right index finger and placed it in between Patrick’s eyebrows, above the bridge of his nose. In a flash, Patrick relived his encounter with Ashram on that fateful night in Mamfe. When he opened his eyes barely a second had passed, but Patrick was no longer the same after that.
The Bright Eyes (The Soulless Ones Book 1) Page 14