Shambhala

by Miller, Brian E.

  Fly sets upon the woman’s uneaten meal as she is distracted in conversation.

  “Are you serious!” she says with alarm. “You need help? I can help you. My father has friends at the embassy. You’re American, right? This is pretty crazy. Let me help you. We can go straight away.” She begins to rise up as Bahi nods her calmly back down.

  “Even though I can’t remember my life, I would bet money that this has been the craziest and most fantastic journey I have ever been on. I am on a mission to find out who I truly am. You say I’m Paul. This means nothing to me, and the more I search for who I am, the closer I feel I am coming to the truth, although today I feel further from it.”

  “Are you feeling OK?” Eva asks, looking at him strangely. “You need to seek out some help. You may have an aneurism or something. You sound a little off.”

  “Look, I realize I must sound pretty crazy, but me losing my memory may be one of the best things that ever happened to Paul,” Bahi says passionately to Eva as the moment slows down. Five seconds of silence feels like five years as they stare into each others eyes. “I am searching for Shambhala.”

  “Well congratulations, because here it is,” she says pointing to the inside of the café as she softly laughs.

  “No, no, the true Shambhala. This is why I must keep moving on.”

  “I think you should see a doctor and get some help. Amnesia is serious business and not for nothing, but you don’t seem to be making a whole lot of sense.”

  “It is very serious Eva,” he says placing his hand on hers. An uncertain awkwardness about this familiar stranger alarms her. Bahi says, “I look around me and see all these people—everyone: all of them, you, me, everyone is suffering. From the homeless man with no legs in the street to you and me. We think we know who we are, grasping onto this self we perceive to be real, all the while distracting ourselves from the reality of our suffering minds. You ask me who I am, and I tell you I have no idea, and in fact I believe this is a better idea than most. We are all journeying, reaching for answers to explain the truth, reaching for happiness at every turn, hoping the next reach will be the final answer to our lasting peace, but it isn’t and so I tell you, Shambhala is the place where I will reach last. Shambhala is where I am headed, and when I get there I vow to lead everyone who wishes to go.”

  Eva pulls her hand out from under the ranting Bahi, “OK let’s just pretend for a moment that you’re not stark mad and say there even is a Shambhala outside of the fantasy and fairy tales. What makes you think that you will be able to find it? Do you know how many men have tried? I’ve read stories of people devoting their lives to this search and never even coming close.”

  Bahi stares in an awkward silence as insecure butterflies rush his stomach, twitching his face muscles with doubt. Eva’s stern manner turns quickly compassionate. “Look, I understand your passion, I truly do, but we have to look at the reality, use fact. What do you have to go on that this place even exists?”

  “I have journeyed a long way since Rishikesh, met with some amazing beings far beyond the scope of normal intelligence, the embodiment of wisdom. They have assured me that it exists. Eva, beautiful Eva,” Bahi says now, lightening the mood, “Have you ever felt something so strongly that you know it’s right, that’s it’s real. Something you can’t explain to others without sounding a bit crazy but you just know?”

  “I suppose I have, yes,” she says in an attempt to placate him.

  “Well let’s say that you met some people, a wise man you just know you can trust. Everything about him embodies truth. And this wise man tells you that this feeling you have inside is true and in fact directs you where to find it, concrete and real. Would you ever be able to stop looking?”

  “I guess I wouldn’t, unless of course I had amnesia and forgot,” Eva says in comic relief. “Do you even have any money or food?”

  “No, not at the moment.”

  “Please order some food. I’ll pay.”

  “No, I couldn’t.”

  “Yes, I insist. Look, I admire your courage and resolve. I question you only out of concern. Please order something. I’ll pay. I insist. It’s the least I can do for an old friend,” she says, realizing he doesn’t even know the fleeting nature of their meeting in Rishikesh.

  “Thank you, Eva,” he says from the heart. “You said I was with a friend in Rishikesh?”

  “Yes, the two of you were supposed to meet me after your hike. I know now why you hadn’t. Here, use this pad to write down your order. Don’t be shy. Order whatever you like. The food here is great.”

  As he peruses the menu, Bahi thinks hard to remember his friend, but only shadowy figures appear in his mind. “Look, I don’t mean to have come off crazy or delusional. It’s been a long day. I promise. I’m harmless.”

  “Well, you’re lucky you’re cute,” Eva says with a flirtatious smile.

  “Do you have any recommendations?” Bahi says, diverting her attention from his blushing face.

  “Get the falafel, it’s amazing.”

  Following her recommendation, he orders the falafel and some ginger lemonade. The two sit and talk long after the meal is gone. Looking off into the valley, they watch as the sun shifts over the building, casting rays down upon the mountainous hills.

  “You probably could use a good shower. Why not come to where I am staying? I could get you a room. You can clean up, get a good night’s sleep.”

  “I don’t. . . No, I couldn’t,” Bahi says, internally hoping she insists again.

  “Look, Paul, I want to help you. It’s the least I can do for you. I wouldn’t feel right otherwise. I also know a good doctor here in Dharamsala if you want to see him.”

  “For what? I’m healthy as a horse,” Bahi says flexing his muscles comically.

  They both have a laugh, and after paying the bill they leave the café, descending the concrete steps as dusk pours in. Fly zips to follow behind them. As they walk in silence down the still-busy dirt road, Bahi reflects on the events that have led him to the café. What are the chances of meeting her here? Perhaps this was the reason for me coming here? he thinks.

  Second guessing himself after the conversation with Eva, he looks up at the rising mountains, remembering the Baba’s instructions to go North and about the meditation that will act as his map to get to Shambhala. A feeling of assurance wells up inside of him, almost as if the Baba were walking next to him.

  “I remember you telling me you were from New York, you and your friend Nick,” Eva says.

  “Yeah? I don’t know, it’s weird, I remember things I must have learned throughout my life, but certain facts such as my name, my family and friends, pretty much my whole life, is totally lost.”

  “Is it scary?” Eva asks, stopping.

  Bahi thinks a moment, “Yeah, sometimes, at first it was very scary, but now I believe it’s somewhat of a blessing. Perhaps I would have just gone through life thinking I knew who I was, thinking ‘I am Paul,’ and that’s it. Now I have an opportunity to search deep to find out who I truly am, and honestly, that may be the scariest part.”

  “What if after all you find out you are just Paul from New York?”

  Bahi smiles, puffing a laugh from his chest through his nostrils. “You have a way of putting things in perspective, Eva. I don’t know, the ‘Paul from New York’ doesn’t sound like truth to me, but what do I know?”

  “Well I like Paul from New York, even if he doesn’t remember he’s Paul from New York,” Eva smiles and continues walking. “What if you never find Shambhala? What if it is all a fairy tale?”

  “Well I guess I’ll have to go back to the fairy tale of who I used to be then.”

  Eva stops to think for a moment. “Touché,” she whispers as she begins to walk again, catching up to Bahi.

  “I like you, Paul. You’re different, and this whole new mysterious outlook may d
o well for you,” Eva says smiling again.

  “Bahi.”

  “What’s that?” she asks.

  “My name is Bahi. It’s the name I was given by a friend I met in Rishikesh after I lost my memory. And lately I feel more like Bahi than this Paul character.”

  “Ha ha, OK then, Bahi it is. I like it. That means brother in Hindi I believe?”

  “Indeed it does,” Bahi says, remembering how he learned this for the first time from Bandar.” Do you speak Hindi?”

  “I wouldn’t say speak, but I studied it at University, always had a fascination with this wonderful country. Bahi, the great brother of man in search of truth.”

  “Brother of all things,” Bahi says remembering the great lessons of Kavi.

  Eva smiles the infectious smile she effortlessly wears, and the two proceed walking, Fly buzzes around with a female fly he seems to have gotten entangled with over some cow dung. Taking their time, Eva and Bahi wander the streets of Dharamsala, stopping often to see what the vendors have to offer. Bahi wonders at the many woolen socks, hats, and jackets—thinking how handy they would have been in the brisk nights he’s encountered.

  “Paul . . . I mean Bahi, I’m sorry,” Eva says stopping in humorous correction. “Why wouldn’t you at least get yourself in order with your passport and money before heading on? Your family must be worried sick.”

  Bahi thinks for a moment. Family is a portrait filled with shadows, yet his heart aches at what they may think happened to him. “Perhaps they think I am dead,” he says with concern.

  “Yeah. It’s not very nice to play dead, you know,” Eva says.

  “Eva, I fear that if I go back to the life I once knew, my journey to Shambhala will never continue. And I feel so close. It’s been several weeks already. What’s a couple of more?” he asks, feeling gray woolen socks that hang from a store front in order to avoid the disapproval of Eva’s gaze.

  “I’ll make you good price,” the shop owner says, noticing Bahi.

  “Is free a good price?” Bahi asks with a smirk?

  “I’ll buy them for you,” Eva offers.

  “Why are you so nice to me? You barely know me?”

  Fly lands on his shoulder, rubbing his hands together, dipping his big bug eyes into them rapidly before buzzing off with his new mate.

  “We all need each other, right? Isn’t this the course of your valiant journey, Bahi? Besides if it were me, wouldn’t you do the same?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I mean, yes, now I would, Bahi would, but I can’t speak for Paul.”

  “I’m certain Paul would too. I mean, you lost your memory not your heart, right?” Eva pulls out two hundred rupees. “How much?” she asks the short, weathered, Indian shop owner.

  “Two hundred,” he answers.

  “One fifty,” she barters, knowing that tourist season is coming to an end and two hundred rupees is way overpriced.

  The shop owner silently agrees, and with a bobble of his head takes the money and hands her change.

  “This is the thing, Eva,” Bahi says as they begin to move along the street, “I don’t know Paul, and it scares me to think he may be totally different from me. This is why I must go on to Shambhala. There I am certain I will find who Paul really is, who Bahi really is,” he says with conviction.

  “What are you really looking for, Bahi?”

  “I don’t know,” Bahi says honestly. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I set out to find who I was, and maybe I thought that meant my name, but deeper inside I know I was looking for more. I think losing my memory may have been the best thing that has happened.”

  “There have been times in my life I wished I could just forget it all, start over. What makes you think you’ll know all the answers at Shambhala? And I know I’ve said this before, but how can you be sure it’s not just some fairy tale told by the locals?”

  “If you had seen the things I have seen in the past few weeks you would not know the difference between fairy tale and reality. The more I look at this fairy-tale world all around me, the people suffering, this poor dog,” he points to a dog limping past them, “the more inclined I am to believe in the fairy tale of Shambhala than this nightmare we call reality.”

  “But this is real, hence real-ity,” Eva contends.

  “Sure it is, I can see it, feel it, smell it, but I am standing in the same reality as this dog, as that homeless woman there, and all three of us see and experience this exact moment totally differently, so who’s reality is the correct version?”

  “Right, I get it, but we are all right, or wrong. I don’t know. What’s that got to do with Shambhala being real? You’ve gone off track.”

  “I’m saying that, because it’s a far-fetched idea from our seeming ‘real world’ of pain and suffering, does not mean it doesn’t exist?” Bahi says, struggling to grasp at the answers while in defense of an idea he himself is uncertain of.

  “I understand. I don’t mean to take you from your journey, I just wish you the best and want you to be safe,” Eva says softly.

  “When I look around, I wonder if it’s ‘safe’ in the comforts of the ‘real world’? Is it really safe or just a way for us to divert our minds from the inevitable suffering to come. If I can give answers, find a way out, help those suffering most, wouldn’t the trip be worth it?”

  “Of course it would,” Eva says as she reaches deep into a glass container at a quaint, remote restaurant they have wandered across. She pulls a chocolate rum ball from the container and puts it to Bahi’s mouth. “Take a bite,” she offers. Bahi bites the ball, feeling an instant rush of chocolate through his taste buds “It’s not all suffering you know, Bahi. Life is full of amazing, wonderful things, like rum balls,” she says raising her eyebrows as she pops the other half into her mouth.

  “You’re right, Eva. I’m sorry to be such a downer.”

  “It’s OK. I like your fortitude and resolve. It’s sexy,” she flirts.

  Bahi smiles. “So what makes me able to enjoy a rum ball, but she can’t even afford one if she wanted to?” he asks, pointing to a homeless woman sitting dirty on a curb, hand out, looking defeated in every way. Her desperate face tells a story of a woman beaten down by life. Eva silently walks over and gives her two rum balls and one hundred rupees. The woman’s eyes light up with thanks as Eva turns and walks back toward Bahi.

  “See, we can all enjoy a good rum ball. We just have to look out for each other, everyone, even, or especially strangers.”

  Bahi smiles as Eva has become even more attractive in his eyes at this moment. “You’re an amazing person, Eva.”

  “Oh, no. I’m just a person. We can all do this in some way, but you Bahi, you are brave, and I know you will find what you seek at Shambhala. I kind of wish I could come with you.”

  “Well, you certainly changed your tune, huh?” Bahi chuckles. “You could come with me, you know.”

  “I fly back to Europe in a few of days. And unfortunately I do remember my family. No I’m kidding, they’re brilliant, I love them. I have several family obligations to attend to or else I’d be right with you.”

  Bahi smiles at her with understanding.

  Walking up a steep hill they come to a short, iron gate painted green. “Here it is,” Eva says lifting the green iron latch atop the gates. They proceed toward the small cottage-like guesthouse that sits back behind a large lawn, nestled in the comfort of trees, off of a quiet road not far from the city streets. Coming to the small cottage, which sits before the strip of cottage-style rooms behind it, lined up one next to the other, Eva knocks on the door.

  “We’ll see if we can get you a room,” she says, awaiting a response.

  The door creeks open slowly to reveal a short, young, Indian woman with a pleasant smile, “Hello, is everything OK?”

  “Yes, just fine, Rheta. I was wondering if you ha
d another room for my friend here?”

  “No, sorry, all filled. Maybe at guest house up street they have room,” she answers directing them to a friend’s guesthouse. Her soft demeanor and gentle eyes induce serenity in Bahi as she gently looks over at him.

  “Thank you, Rheta,” Eva says, hands in a quick prayer position as they walk away from the door.

  “Bahi, why not just stay at my place for the night? It’s already dark,” Eva suggests.

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude. You have helped me so much already.”

  “It’s more than fine. I would love the company, come on,” Eva says as she walks off toward the cottages in the back of the field.

  Coming to the white door of her room, she unlatches the padlock, opens the door, and waves Bahi in. Fly buzzes in quickly behind him. The room is moderate, with two small beds side by side. Her red hiking pack sits in a corner next to a small end table strewn with random travel needs.

  “Feel free to take a shower. Mi casa es su casa.”

  “No, thanks. You’ve been so kind already.”

  “No, Bahi. Stop being Mr. Humility. My pleasure is in helping others, so please, take a shower,” she says taking a towel from her pack.

  “No really, I’m OK,” he says not wanting to intrude on her space.

  “No really, do us both a favor and take a shower,” she insists, hinting bluntly.

  Bahi smells his underarms. “Is it really that bad?” he giggles.

  Throwing the towel at him, she responds, “It could be better. I have to go down the street real quick. I forgot something. Be back in ten minutes. Take your time, soaps in the shower.”

  “Thanks!”

  Eva exits the door as Bahi sits on the bed releasing a deep exhale. Sitting in silence, he thinks of Eva and his whole situation here in Dharamsala. Realizing he is well due for a shower, he heads into the bathroom. “You’ve been quiet,” he says, noticing Fly on the wall, knowing he has been consciously avoiding any conversations with animals and bugs so as not to come off overly insane to Eva, who already has her reservations about Bahi’s mental state. Fly just buzzes back at him as he goes into the shower.