Like, Misunderstood (excerpt near the beginning)

[Guest guest]

(INDIA: 1947)...

 

As the Sun rises in the East my eyes flutter open. Oh God, I feel cold

and stiff. ‘Ugh!’ I grunt as I roll onto my side. With the dawn glowing

brighter the train nears its destination. Eventually, finally, we start

to slow down. I squint at the old train sign, RISHIKESH. We're here.

YEAH!

 

I thank God by folding my hands and bowing my head. I'm safe!

 

 

CHAPTER 2: Blown Away!

 

As I struggle to climb down from the roof I hear religious chants and

Indian music and loud running river sounds. The GANGA! ‘Jai Ganga Mata

ki jai!’

 

With difficulty I fall over as I reach the ground. ‘Ram teyree maya!’ -

Oh Rama, this is all Your illusion!

 

I struggle to get up. As I approach the river I look up at the majestic

temple towering above me. ‘Om namo Narayana!’ - I utter in deep

respect.

 

Finally I reach the river and climb down the stone steps to the bathing

ghats on the bank. With difficulty I strip down to my kaupin

(loincloth) and wade my rickety old body into the freezing waters. I

take three quick dips in the current. It's ice cold and my heart begins

to tighten. As fast as possible I emerge from the river’s edge and wipe

the freezing water off my bare body. I'm racked with shivering. ‘Aah

aah Hhhhhhh!’

 

Shaking like mad I struggle to sit cross-legged on the red stone ghat

and then I count my gayatri mantra silently meditating. Sitting with a

straight back, my sacred thread wrapped around my right thumb, I count

the mantras on my fingertips. So peaceful; the running water. ‘Ommm!

namo bhagavate vasudevaya Ommm!’

 

‘Ahhh!’ God has brought me here safely. I recall a verse from the

ancient Purana, revealed in Sanskrit thousands of years ago, and handed

down, from generation to generation. Sanskrit, my dear language, so

elegant, noble and precise. The Sloka flows from my tongue like honey…

 

‘viditam ananta samastam tava jagad-atmano janair ichacaritam /

vignapyam parama-guroh kiyad iva savitur iva khadyotaih //’

 

- as I meditate on the mystical sense of it:

 

Oh supreme unlimited God, whatever a soul does in this world is all

known to You because You are the Over-soul. In the Sun’s presence there

is nothing to be revealed by a glow-worm. Because of Your being

all-knowing, there is nothing which I can make known to You. Ommmm…

 

‘HUH?’ All of a sudden I hear truck and bus engines roar and screech.

And what the hell? I'm startled by the sounds of shouting, gunfire and

breaking glass. People are screaming. Hey!

 

Just above the ghat two or three truckloads of hooligans have invaded

this pilgrimage town and the local people are screaming and running

down the steps to the river where I'm sitting. Are the hooligans

Muslim? Man, what's the difference between hooligans?

 

Bricks and big rocks begin to rain down onto the ghats. Some of the

Indian women jump into the river. My God, they’re going to die! Some

people are hit by the bricks. ‘Yikes!’ There is pushing and some of the

crowd falls into the river. Others are trampled under foot as the evil

bastards invade this sanctuary striking at anyone they can kill.

 

I look up and see some of the hooligans running down the steps. How can

I stop them? Oh God, am I ready for this? I stand up holding my trident

and beg the rioters to stop killing, ‘Nahi nahi!’

 

Suddenly a certain shot is fired into the crowd. It's like all sound

stops except the echo gun blast: BLAM! I hear nothing but a zinging

sound and see a bullet coming, spinning toward me.

 

Thaaap! ‘Ulp!’ I feel choked as something hot rips through my neck.

’Akh ghh!’ The force of the bullet knocks me backward off the bathing

ghat into the swirling current with a splash. All is BLACK. Am I blind?

‘Huh? Kya hum mar chuke hai?’ - What, am I dead?

 

I can make out a shaking light and hear the approach of suction noises.

Like howling wind. I feel racked with a chill. ‘Ah-huh?’ I hear my

rapid fearful breathing, fast thumping heartbeats, growing fainter.

 

I grasp out. Where am, ‘huh?’ I feel like I'm hanging onto a cliff made

of ice. Cold. I helplessly slip off with a sickening falling sensation.

 

Then the noises. Oh man! Talk about scary! Howling wind and suction

sounds. I see the blackness form into a glowing orange-pinkish winding

tunnel and I'm helplessly swept through the twisting flow. Past old

memories – hazy, flashes: orange robed sadhus, forests, family members,

baby stuff, the kind face of a mother turns into ice.

 

I'm dragged, rushing through the glowing tunnel…

 

On the left side I'm beckoned by devilish beings to come into the

infernal regions. I see flashes of hell. Demons laugh and call me to

enter. Gross! Not only NO! But HELL NO!

 

I hear fearsome howling winds as I'm swept past hell down the glowing

tunnel…

 

On the right I see a glowing angelic doorway welcome me to enter

paradise. Angels call. I reach out to enter heaven but I can't see

myself. I'm helplessly carried away down the winding tunnel.

 

‘Whoa! Huh?’ I feel so sleepy all of a sudden. What the? ‘Bahut

durbaal! Aab sow-jaigaa! Sow jaigaa! sow....’ (So weak, so sleepy,

so..). That was IT!

 

 

PART II - Inland Empire Blues Brothers

 

 

CHAPTER 3: Born in the USA

 

Two hearts beat in the darkness. I don't know zilch. Nada. I'm being

squeezed out, pressed so hard. I feel choking. The pressure is

unbearable, ‘Unnh! Ahnnnuh!’

 

A hospital delivery room. I fall into the hands of a doctor. The light

is intense. ‘Ohhh!’ I'm blinded with bright light. I hear and feel a

striking sensation. Baby crying… is that me? Man, I don't know!

 

Slowly my vision begins to accommodate the light. Over me I see the

misty faces of a man and woman looking down so concerned! The women

speaks to the man, ‘Dick! He looks so helpless!’ Yeah, better believe

it!

 

Eighteen years later I'm surfing with my band mates at Swami's reef

near San Diego. The tides getting too low. That reef is gnarly.

 

Anyway, here goes. ‘My wave!’ I paddle into the peak, drop in fading

left on my 9.6 Surfboard's Hawaii, then crank a bottom turn, hard

right, take two cross-steps forward to line up the wall. Sh*t! It's

closing out! Too late! Tons of turbulent water takes my board and me

over the falls on top of the reef just six feet deep. I’m pulled

every-which-way, ‘Whoaaaa! Ummph!’ I’m caught in an explosive under

water struggle. I barely miss the sharp rocks. Shooting up out the top

I'm gasping for breath. ‘Ahhhhhh. Gaaaah. Ahhhhh!’

 

From the surface of the ocean behind the broken wave there’s the

grinning face of my friend 18 year old GREG, who is lying on top of his

board. He's our guitar player. Great guy!

 

‘Man! You got hammered!’ he laughs.

 

‘Tide’s too low. I lost my board. I'm goin’ in!’ I shout over the

thunderous waves breaking around us. We surf and swim to shore. I get

my board, then Greg and I run up the beach to join our 17-year-old

drummer MOE. Moe tosses me a towel, ‘Hurry up, man! We got a Battle of

the Bands to win tonight!’

 

‘No sweat!’ I assure him. ‘Us against whose army?’

 

The three of us walk up the steps, all carrying long boards, and

wearing baggy surfer shorts and striped T-shirts. We're cool!

 

Above the cliff I marvel at the mysterious and grand Indian-style

temple, the Self Realization Fellowship, surrounded by its neatly

attended lawns and flower gardens. The surf spot is named Swami’s

because it's below this temple.

 

Info: http://www.themisunderstood.com/like-novel.html

 

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