The handle slowly turns as the door opens with a rustle of the leaf-covered opening. A short, white nun with a shaved head and yellow robes sticks her head out the half-open door, her round spectacles analyzing Bahi standing in front of Ajee. “Maha Bharat is not taking visitors at this time,” her quick-mannered, Australian accent informs before she pulls her bobbly head back in and slams the door shut. Bahi can hear a chain lock being secured as he turns to Ajee with his hands up, shrugging his shoulders.
“Tough break, buddy,” Ajee says.
“Break, nothin’, I didn’t come all the way here to turn back,” he replies in a huff.
“What are you gonna do?”
Remembering his conversation with the goat about patiently waiting, he resolves to do just that. “She said he is not taking visitors at this time. I guess I’ll wait until he is taking visitors.”
“And you’ll wait here?” Ajee asks looking around.
Bahi looks down at the small stoop before the front door, “Right here!”
“Sounds good to me.” Ajee smiles and lies down as Bahi sits up against the house, holding his knees to his chest with a cross look on his face. After a few moments of silence, Ajee looks up. “And we wait.”
“Yes Sir. We wait.”
The sky turns black and the stars begin to bleed through the vast firmament above. The cold night forces them to huddle up, wrapped in the shawl, uncomfortable and stubborn. Ajee falls asleep and sleeps soundly as opposed to Bahi, who gets a few winks at best, constantly adjusting to the cold, hard ground, trying different positions to shield the brisk wind running through the valley. Growing envious of Ajee’s thick fur and ability to fall fast asleep anywhere, he considers that perhaps they should have made a fire someplace close in the forest for the nights sleep. Yet his obstinance has kept him locked on this cold stoop of the small cottage. Bahi sits with his back against the house, watching as light projects over the hills in anticipation of the sunrise. He hears the lock unlatch and the door slowly creek open as he springs to his feet.
“You again. I thought I told you that Maha Bharat is not taking visitors at this time,” the stout, bald nun says again, sticking her head out the doorway.
“I know, but if I can . . . . ” The door slams before he can get the words out. Again he hears the chain lock secure from the inside. He lets out a sigh as he sits back down, frustrated, cold, and exhausted, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his tired head on his arms. His eyes are heavy and burning from a bitter, sleepless night, yet his resolve is thick, like a stubborn ass that won’t budge.
Ajee wakes up and stretches out, smiling from a deep and restful nights sleep. “I’ll fetch us some breakfast,” he says as he pops up and runs off through the valley.
Bahi can’t even think of eating, although he knows he is hungry. One part frustration and one part exhaustion has baked a certain knot in his stomach. Ajee returns twenty minutes later with another rabbit hanging lifeless in his jaws and flopping around as he nears Bahi. Ajee drops the prey at his feet as he licks the blood from his mouth. “This place is full of them. Dig in, Bahi!”
“No thanks, I’m not hungry,” Bahi turns away in disgust, looking off into the valley in angst, avoiding Ajee’s cheery manner. His annoyance bred by sleeplessness and uncertainty is not in the mood to partake in conversation.
Ajee senses the uneasiness in Bahi, and clenching the hind legs of the inert rabbit with his jaws, walks a few feet away to eat his freshly killed breakfast. Bahi falls in and out of brief nods of sleep, and soon high noon shines warm sun from directly above. Bahi’s dry mouth and throat crave water, but he does not want to move from the stoop. A few hours later, thirsty and now feeling the pangs of hunger, the door unlatches and creeks open, quickly springing Bahi once again to his feet. The small, stocky nun walks outside with a wicker basket full of feed. “You’re a stubborn one, huh?” she says as she walks off into the yard, which is filled with dry hay and chickens. Bahi rounds his head, peeking out at her from the corner of the cottage as she tosses feed among swarming chickens.
Bahi walks over and approaches her. “Listen, please. I just need five minutes. That’s all.”
“Are you thirsty?” the nun asks.
“Yes, very.”
“Well, help yourself to the chicken water,” she points to a bucket of dirty water with feathers floating in it and walks off, back to the cottage.
“Ma’am, Ma’am, please,” Bahi pleads, briskly following behind her as she walks. She rapidly shuffles her short legs and stops abruptly, turning to Bahi, who almost runs into her.
“One, Ma’am is what you call my mother. And two, not please, but thank you, thank you for even allowing you to find the cottage. Now be a good boy and go eat with the chickens.” Her short speech is followed by another slam of the door.
“What does that even mean?” Bahi yells at the door.
“Well, well, seems like it’s going smooth,” Ajee says, teasing him.
“Ajee, not now, please.”
“Well at least we know where to find some chickens if we get hungry.”
Just then the door opens and the nun yells out, “If you touch so much of a feather on those chickens, you’ll be asleep so fast that when you wake up you’ll be reborn as the feed I throw on the dirt for them. Am I communicating, people?” They are both silent, taken aback. “Am I communicating?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Bahi concurs.
“Ma’am this!” she says as she slams the door again. Bahi smacks himself in the head.
“We are not off to a good start, Bahi.”
“No, we are not.”
“Wait a minute. How could she understand what I said? Can I talk to all humans now?” Ajee asks in wonder.
“I have no clue,” Bahi says, not caring about her understanding Ajee, but more concerned with how perturbed she was.
“Say, Bahi, how are you able to communicate with me? I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Bahi gives a brief explanation to a curious Ajee before walking off in frustration to the yard. Pacing with the chickens Bahi can’t help but notice the nice, calm energy that surrounds the house. The sun beats down on him, and his dry, cracked lips beg for water. Going over to the fowls’ water, he kneels down, looking into the rectangular, long reservoir. He brushes off small, white feathers that float atop. One chicken looks at him curiously as he scoops some water into his hands and drinks. Ajee comes over, scattering the chickens as they fearfully retreat to the small barn at the back of the yard. Lapping up water, he lifts his head to look at Bahi, a small white feather sticking to his mouth.
“Oh jeez, get that off before we end up as chicken feed,” Bahi says quickly swiping the feather from his mouth. Spending the whole day in the yard, Bahi is now starving and decides he is going to fast until he can see Maha Bharat.
As night falls, they cuddle up among some hay. After a sleepless night and no food, Bahi falls fast asleep. In his sleep, he dreams he is knocking on the door again, and that again the nun comes out. Her pudgy bald head wears a sour puss, “Who do you think you are, coming here and thinking the great Maha Bharat will just see you? The Dalai Lama himself is on a waiting list. Go on. Go back from where you came. You have no business here.” Bahi tries hard, but can’t speak as the house sinks into a deep hole that caves in all around him, and suddenly he wakes up as dawn is again upon him. Curiously they are on the front stoop again. Bahi has no idea how they got there.
“Morning, buddy. Nightmare? You were yelling a bit there.”
“Yeah, I mean no, I mean I don’t know, I think we should leave.”
Just then the nun opens the door and places a tray with food on the ground. “Eat up,” she says before closing the door.
They rush over and feast on the steaming noodles, tofu, and vegetables. Bahi didn’t realize how hungry he was. He can feel the warmth of food slide down h
is throat and nestle comfortably in his empty stomach. After the meal they sit in the shade up against the front of the house.
“Do you wanna split?” Ajee asks.
“I don’t know, I mean, maybe I can find Shambhala on my own. What if he can’t help me to find it. If his speech is all cryptic like that nun’s, then I’m really in trouble,” Bahi laughs.
“I’ll do whatever you want to do.”
The door opens again and the nun steps out, “Still here, huh?”
“Yes, I have nowhere else to go,” Bahi implores.
“Nonsense. Look around you. This world is big. Just pick a direction and go.”
“Please Ma . . . ,” Bahi implores, stopping himself from saying Ma’am, “please, I beg of you, only five minutes.”
“Maha Bharat agrees to see you, but on one condition.”
“Sure, anything, what?”
“Tonight you sleep in the barn, and first you and I talk, and if it’s deemed beneficial he will see you.”
“Sounds good to me,” Bahi says lightening up for the first time in days.
“Oh, and another thing: the mutt’s gotta go,” she says looking over at Ajee.
“But he is my friend, I can’t”
“Then you can’t, and I’ll bid you a good day,” she turns to walk back into the house.
“No, no, it’s fine. I was just leaving anyway. Yeah, full moon party and all. You know us wolves.”
“It’s only a half moon,” Bahi points out.
“Yeah well, wow half moon already, we start preparing early, usually at the new moon, so I better get going,” Ajee says loudly as the nun stands unflattered by his lies.
“Listen, Bahi, this is why you are here. It’s not about me. When you’re done, whenever it is, two hours or two weeks, just whistle and I’ll come back,” Ajee whispers.
“You promise?”
“A wolf always keeps his word, well except that one time, but she was a little kookoo. And, oh, forget that, a wolf always keeps his word,” Ajee says puffing his chest up proudly.
Bahi bends down and hugs Ajee goodbye. “Thank you, friend,” Bahi says softly in his ear, “how can I ever repay you?”
“By staying here and finding the way to Shambhala. Now, can you whistle? Let me hear it!” Bahi lets out a loud whistle. “That a boy!” Ajee says as he walks off. “All right, Jack. See ya on the other side.”
“Be safe, Wolf. Thank you!” And with that Ajee runs off into the hillside, out of sight.
“Now you wait in the barn and I’ll come out in a while to talk.”
“Yes Ma’am, oh I’m sorry, I mean yes, what’s your name?”
“Robina, Venerable Robina,” she says.
“Yes, Venerable Robina, I’m Bahi.”
“Or is it Jack?”
“Jack, Bahi, Paul, I really don’t know.”
“You’re not on drugs are you?” she asks skeptically.
“No, no, ha ha definitely not, although if I told you how I got here you would bet otherwise.”
“OK, Bahi, off with ya, I’ll see you in an hour.” Robina closes the door softer than she had before.
Making sure she is totally in and can’t see him, he jumps up in silent celebration and with a smile makes his way to the barn. Opening the small, natural-wood-colored, barn door, two goats look up from their rest in a bed of hay. The rest of the barn is empty and clean except for hay that lines the floors and the loft that is led up by a makeshift latter reminiscent of the manger scene, “Where’s baby Jesus?” he asks out loud, humoring himself as he looks around.
“He’s here,” Robina says startling him to turn around.
“That was the quickest hour I ever experienced.”
“OK, let’s not be a wise ass, now sit down and tell me what you want with Maha Bharat.”
“Oh man, where do I start?”
“You start with why you’re here. Life’s too short for these mamby pamby games.”
“So then why make me wait for days?” Bahi asks.
“Let’s get one thing straight. You made yourself wait, the path you have chosen was created by your actions, and your actions alone. We can never post blame for anything on anyone else. You are the boss. If you don’t like your life, change it by changing the causes that create your conditions. It’s that simple. You want different conditions, then look at the causes that create them and adjust. The problem is we are always doing the same thing and wishing for different results. This is the definition of insanity, actually.”
“Yes, I understand, but you made me wait. If it were up to me I would have had this talk the other day,” Bahi rebuts.
“Oh, here we go again. Do I need to spell it out? You create exactly the situation you are in. You know what made the difference between me sleeping in a warm house the past two nights and you out in the cold?” Bahi thinks as he examines Robina’s distinctive face. “The past causes we created to reach those conditions and to blame others is not only immature and childish but illogical,” she says staring him in the eyes.
“So, it was a punishment for my past actions?” Bahi asks.
“Not a punishment. It’s like if you were walking along and decided to throw a rock straight up into the air, a punishment would be if someone grabbed that rock and chucked it back at your head. What is happening here is that the rock, logically, must come back down, and when it hits you on the head you’re all surprised: ‘Where did that rock come from?’ Your ignorance forgot that you threw it up there. But let us not get into a lesson on karma or we’ll be here all night. So to the point, Bahi, what is it you want to ask?”
“How do I find Shambhala?” Bahi quickly belts out.
“Wow, going straight for the gusto! And what makes you think that, one, Maha Bharat even knows? And two, if he does know, why would he tell you this? And three, how do you even know this place exists outside of the fairy tales and village folklore? You’ve been hanging out with the goats, haven’t you?”
“Well actually . . . ”
“Yeah yeah,” Robina cuts him off.
They sit in silence as she stares at him almost sizing him up, “and why would you even want to go to Shambhala, what’s your motive, what’s the intention?”
“The motive, the intention, is to find answers to this riddle of suffering so I can help others find answers.”
Robina is silent again for a moment before speaking. “And say he did know a way there but that it was so risky that you would have about a ninety-percent chance of death, then what would you say?”
“I would say there is a ten percent chance of making it and that I am willing to forego the ninety-percent risk. We’re all gonna die, right? Might as well risk it to help others. I mean someone has to, right? Have you been in that jungle lately?”
Robina smiles. “And what if I was to tell you that if you reached Shambhala with this intention to help liberate others you would have to go back to this so-called jungle of suffering, fear, and delusional ignorance in order to help. And what’s more, you won’t want to leave the peace of this place. And if you do, most won’t even believe you found such a place. Some may even try to kill you.”
“And some would believe, and thus the answers I find even to help a few would be more important than just myself alone staying there. I would know the path, the map, and would have to return to lead others there.”
“And would you forego your entrance into Shambhala in order to let another in?”
Bahi thinks honestly, searching his heart, finding a resounding “yes.”
“Yes! Yes, I would.”
Again silence fills the barn. Struggling to her feet, she motions to the door. “Come with me.”
“Am I going to meet him now?”
“Just come with me, will you?”
Walking out into the sunlight and rounding the corne
r of the yard, she enters the cottage. “Take off your shoes and be silent,” she says looking back sternly into Bahi’s eyes before he steps in. He quickly flops his shoes off outside, and as soon as he crosses the threshold, a feeling of joy overcomes him. The smell of sandalwood permeates the small, dark cottage. It is dimly lit by streams of rich, golden sunlight upon the walls that bask an image in shadow, which Bahi can barely make out in the far corner of the cottage. He squints to see what seems to be someone in a meditative pose, whom he only assumes is Maha Bharat. His uncertainty turns back to Robina, who whispers, “Go and bow to him.”
Walking over, he still strains to make out Maha Bharat. Even at such close proximity, it’s as if Bahi has a shadowy film on his eyes that blocks the image out no matter which angle he looks, a peculiar situation indeed. He gets on his knees with great reverence in his heart and bows before standing to his feet with hands in prayer position and head lowered. Raising his eyes up softly to look, he notices the sun has slightly shifted, exposing the image of a gold statue of the Buddha. Bahi turns back to Robina to find a short, frail Indian man where Robina stood. Confusion washes over Bahi’s face.
“What did you expect?” the Indian man asks.
“Um, expect? I . . .I don’t know. Are you the Great Maha Bharat?”
“What do you see?” the short Indian man asks with a soft smile.
“I see the Great Maha Bharat.”
“Then you are correct. Be careful what your mind perceives. Just a minute ago you thought I was a short, stubby nun from Australia, I ask you to search yourself and tell me what you feel.”
Shambhala Page 16