My Amritapuri Experience: Part 20

[Guest guest]

Continued from Part 19...

 

After a gap of almost a year, I return to continue my story. There is

an element in my personality that craves structure and order. I hate

to leave a job unfinished. It may be a pointless project, devoid of

meaning but having once embarked on the mission of my own accord, I

feel compelled to see it through.

 

There is this story in the Puranas, where the Devas and the Asuras,

in a rare collaborative venture, churn the ocean to extract Amrit

(nectar that confers immortality). The serpent Vasuki volunteers

service as the rope and the mountain Mandaramalai is used as the

ladle around which Vasuki is wound. After much churning, Vasuki tires

and starts to spew poison. Lord Shiva swallows the poison so as to

save the world from its deleterious effects. Goddess Parvati rushes

to help and holds His throat to prevent the poison from spreading to

the rest of His body. This story can be read at a deep, allegorical

level but I will not stop to explore the hidden meaning. Other

brothers or sisters who are well versed in Puranic lore and

commentary may step in to fill the breach, if they so desire.

 

It is sufficient and salutary for me to reflect on the Divine glory

of Neelakandan's (another appellation for Lord Shiva; neela - blue

colour from poison, kandam - throat) supreme sacrifice in taking on

the burden of the world, as I proceed, in my infinitesimal way, to do

the opposite. Unlike the gracious Lord, I cannot hold it in; I must

save myself by spitting it out. And so, devotees, I seek your

continued indulgence, as I purge my system of the virus of verbosity

and prattle on...

 

The next character in this narrative is an elderly man – a

householder and long-time ashram resident. This senior, let me call

him X2, lived in Amritapuri with his wife and son. Their lives,

swirling around seva and sadhana, were structured on the same broad

lines as those of other householder residents with one interesting

twist from my perspective – their son, twenty-something years old,

was mentally retarded. (In the past, I have been reluctant to use

the `R' word because it is too stark and also strikes too close to

home. However, of late I find euphemisms such as `developmentally

challenged', `alternately enabled' or other clever coinage unequal to

the task of covering up the grim realities of life.)

 

We started off with some generalities but pretty soon our

conversation circled in on a shared concern – the disabilities of our

respective children. The conditions though medically different were

similar in impact. Both children had significantly impaired

development but his son was stable, requiring no treatment while my

daughter was unstable and needed medication. Speaking to him seemed

surreal, almost like being in a time machine. My past and future were

both mirrored in his present; the past, in miniature, and perhaps a

shade superficially, but the future in a fuller sense.

 

He was stranded several rungs below me on the socio-economic ladder

and in that sense he reflected my past, the economic mediocrity I had

migrated out of, not by dint of effort or any special talent of my

own but mere chance. I took in this little image in my rear-view

mirror, savoring my great escape from the serpentine coils of lower

middle-class toil into the talons of upper middle-class obscurity.

For the moment, I was a mouse, saved by an eagle from being swallowed

by a snake. I felt relief and exhilaration as I soared through the

sky, securely transported in the eagle's talons. My euphoria peaked

in a palace in the sky, the eagle's nest where I was deposited which

I took to be home!

 

My flight from the past had landed in the present. Time passed

quickly and the wonder faded. A decade in mouse-years was a single

night in eagle-time. I found that my lofty new perch was not so

comfortable after all. I was destined to BE breakfast. I let out a

silent scream in pain as the eagle's sharp beak ripped my tender

flesh and ego to shreds. At the present time, breakfast is still

being served and I am still screaming.

 

Then my attention drifted away from the smallish rear-view image and

vaulted over the excruciating pain of the present to the bigger

picture of the future that bore down through the front windscreen.

X2's son, in the present was my daughter in the future, with some

adjustments for health and mental capacity. And although I did not

think so at the time, being more optimistic then than I am now about

the outlook for my daughter, it is increasingly clear that the

adjustments referred to above will push my daughter below his son on

the health-and-ability axis. To my mind, the subtle symmetry between

our situations was quite striking. Excess wealth on my side is

balanced by better health on his side. He was my holographic

negative, exposed on the tousled tissue of time.

 

To be continued in Part 21...

 

Previous episodes blogged at:

http://www.sulekha.com/weblogs/listingsbyblog.asp?pg=1&blogid=750

 

Om Amriteshwaryai Namah

 

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