Shambhala (11 page)

Bahi grabs the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair as he again kisses her lips. Fly mingles about the room with his newly found friend, as a cool gust of wind blows in through the slightly cracked window, flickering the candle. Eva and Bahi look deeply into each others eyes, holding each other, and as the soft wind blows out the candle, the room falls dark.

SLOWLY OPENING HIS
eyes, Bahi notices Fly walking about on the far wall in a seemingly sporadic tribal dance. Yawning, he turns to see Eva, who is fast asleep. Getting out of bed naked, he quickly puts on his socks and clothes to combat the cold morning and icy concrete floor as he walks to the bathroom. Coming out, he pulls the covers snug around Eva, kissing her on the forehead as she opens her eyes smiling. “Morning,” she says as she stretches and pulls the covers closer, shielding herself from the cold. She slowly rises, and they sit a while in the warm sun of morning that blankets the front of the guesthouse. Deciding to go for breakfast, Bahi feels most comfortable and contemplates staying with her until she leaves for home in a week. They prepare themselves, briefly, before going off for a walk in the calm morning, finding a small, quiet café, perfect for a blissful morning such as this. It’s early and they’re the only ones in the café with the exception of three Tibetan workers who sit at a table in the far corner, talking, awaiting the customers who will soon pour in. Bahi and Eva order as they sit next to a bookshelf populated with books left behind by wayfaring tourists over the years.

“The Dalai Lama is giving a teaching today,” Eva says as her cheese omelet promptly arrives at the table.

“Oh yeah?”

“I signed up last week. I’d say to come, but it’s a big process with security and all. They require passports and photos and such.”

“That’s fine, I sort of want to relax and do some contemplation on my next steps here,” Bahi says as his eyes grow wide to the plate of eggs, potatoes, and toast in front of him.

“I feel bad. Are you sure? I can stay back if you like.”

“Feel bad about what? You have done so much for me already. I would feel bad if you didn’t go and missed an opportunity to see the Dalai Lama teach, all because of me.”

Eva smiles, “Well it’s over at half five, we can rendezvous here at six for dinner?”

“That sounds great.”

In agreement, they finish their meals and quietly take in the stillness of the morning as they admire the quaintness of the café. Finishing up, they thank the staff and split ways, exiting the café. Bahi watches as Eva walks down a long, narrow road that ends at a large temple just a short distance away. He loses her in a sea of red robes as monks and lay people all funnel down the tightly packed, dusty, road in anticipation of the Dalai Lama’s teachings. Bahi keeps on, after the large crowd has passed, and slowly meanders down the road, passing numerous cafes and street vendors, stopping often to check out what they have to offer. Bahi contemplates how he will ever find Shambhala.
Perhaps Eva is right: Who am I to think I can find this place
?

As he nears the temple, he can hear Tibetan being spoken on loudspeakers that seem to be broadcasting from the temple. He assumes it’s the Dalai Lama. A side café offers small tables and chairs, partially bathed in the morning sun. A middle-aged European man tunes a small, grey radio to pick up a translation of the teachings. Carefully tuning with a slow turn of his fingers, ear close to the radio, he says, “Uh, there we go!” as he notices Bahi.

Bahi turns his face toward the sun, relaxing in the warm rays as his attention is turned to the English translation on the radio: “And so all the happiness in the world comes from wishing others to be happy, and all the suffering in the world comes from wishing happiness for ourselves alone. All beings want to be happy and don’t want to suffer. It’s the self-cherishing that is the source of our suffering. So selflessness is the antidote to self-grasping.” There is a short gap in the translation as Bahi tunes his ears, now a bit more interested. “We must cultivate compassion because all of our conditions come from others, everything—all of it. All we are physically, all we have, it is all given to us or comes from, in some way, from others. Just check up on this. You’ll see it’s true, it’s logic, it’s science. And so if we are going to be selfish, we might as well be wise about it and help others.”

Bahi slowly gets up from the chair and walks away, unable to hear the English translation. And as Tibetan spews from loudspeakers, pouring out onto the street, he notices a homeless man with one leg. Inwardly he develops a strong wish for that man to be happy. His heart begins to ache, and he is filled with great compassion. A tear drops down his cheek as he resolves to find Shambhala, not for himself alone, not only for his quest, but for all others: for this homeless man here, for Eva, for Kamini and Bandar, and for his family, whom he can’t even remember but imagines must be suffering, especially if they have come to the realization that he is missing.

Selflessness is the antidote to self-grasping
. Bahi contemplates these words of wisdom from the Dalai Lama.
Funny, we think the opposite is true. We think if we want something we need to hold onto it, grasp at it for ourselves—including happiness. If we want happiness we have to create it for others
. Bahi breathes in, feeling the strength of a selfless resolve to find Shambhala in order to lead all beings to the happiness they seek, the happiness he seeks, the happiness we all seek in whatever form.

He looks around and realizes that we are all suffering on some level, from the one- legged homeless man, to the people shopping and eating, the workers who brick the side of the building he passes, the shop owner dusting his shop. All of them on some level are reaching for happiness. Even if it’s not an intense suffering, all are in the pursuit of happiness, of grabbing often at what they think is happiness. But then these things or people are soon gone, and we are left with more suffering. He reflects on the words of the wise Baba and of Kavi. An inner strength wells up from deep inside of him as the sun pours down blessings on his face, penetrating his being. Bahi sits for a long while on a quiet corner of the road near the temple. The sun moves across the sky, and before he realizes it, several hours have passed. A sea of maroon robes comes flowing from the temple teachings, pouring out in quiet contemplation. Bahi watches as he sits on a stump on the dusty, tan roadside.

“Bahi!” Eva calls out from across the road.

Bahi looks up, surprised to see her in the quiet chaos of people. Coming over to greet her, he sees that she wears a big, relaxed smile as the sun washes over her pale face. “So?” Bahi asks.

“Oh, it was wonderful. I wish you could have come. I realized while I was in there that you have no money. You must be starving. I am sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry. You have been more than generous, and besides that breakfast was easily three meals,” he says rubbing his stomach and arching back to stretch in the sun.

“Well, let’s get lunch, on me. I have to use up all these
rupees
before I fly home, so it might as well be on you,” Eva says, softening her generous offer.

Bahi smiles and places his hand on her shoulder. “I want you to know I appreciate this immensely, and when I figure things out I am going to repay every
rupee
.”

“Oh, Bahi, this is my contribution to your great journey. Come on, not another word about it, let’s eat.”

Eva grasps Bahi’s hand as they walk off, both in contemplation of each other and simultaneously not knowing what the other is thinking they reflect,
How wonderful a world would this be if everyone thought of others first, free from selfish gain, even the pursuit of our own well being for others, changing the world by changing ourselves
. With a gentle smile their eyes meet, as if reading each other’s minds.

They enjoy the day together, having lunch, walking the streets, getting closer and closer to each other with every step. As evening falls, they sit and partake of mushroom crepes with cashew sauce, overlooking the main square of the city in McCal Ganj, the semi-busy hub of the upper part of this city. Eva orders a bottle of Indian wine, which they enjoy over general conversations about life, each other, India, and how surprised they are at how good the wine is. They share many laughs as the bottle comes quickly to its bottom. Bahi feels warm for the first time in a while, be it the wine, the company, the food, or what have you, he cares not the reason and basks in it wholly. He has thoughts that he could stay in this moment forever, just stay with Eva in comfort. Shambhala, for the first time in weeks, is not the predominant thought in his mind. Fly and his new love interest mingle among the crumbles, which fall on the floor at Bahi’s feet.

“I really like you, Paul, or Bahi, or whatever you name is!” Eva laughs, now feeling the wine.

“I really like you too, Eva, or whatever your name is.”

The hour is late, and the second bottle of Himachal wine they have ordered sits empty before them. Bahi stands to his feet as the warm rush of red wine enters his head. His thinking pointed yet clouded, he thinks of the journey ahead, and pride born of alcohol puffs him up, though he is quickly deflated by the thought,
What am I doing?

“What am I doing, Eva?” he asks, as she closes the billfold, paying the bill.

“You’re coming home with me,” she answers with a wink.

Bahi smiles, content with the unexpected answer as they leave the restaurant. Coming out into the chilly night, Bahi puts his arm around Eva, warming her from the cool Dharamsala winds that gently run up the street, pouring in from the dark forest. Holding Eva close as they walk toward the guesthouse, Bahi breathes in her subtle scent of flowers like a warm breeze over a spring mountain. Reaching the room they step inside and cuddle with each other, the world around far away. The Earth comes to a slow turn, as their time together seems infinite.

He can easily stay right here with her, holding her, smelling her fresh-scented hair, kissing her neck as she sleeps. He ponders this as he looks toward the ceiling, then turning over, he holds her closer, pressing his body warm against hers and as his eyes close, he drifts far away into a deep sleep.

Running through a field of flowers on a mountain hilltop with Eva in dreamlike bliss. Eva is playfully taunting him as he runs backward from her. Suddenly he slips, and the hill breaks away. He descends fearfully into a void. Falling, he reaches up to grab Eva, who moves further away with every second. Her yelling for Bahi from atop is silent and dreamlike, and as her concerned face drops away, Bahi falls deeper into darkness. He swims and struggles in the air and finally hits the murky ground as a vision of the Baba appears. “Bahi, all things end. To grasp at permanence is the path of the fool. It doesn’t have to be a fall if you surrender.”

Bahi is stuck to the ground, unable to move or speak. The Baba hovers above him and goes on speaking. “The happiness you seek outside of you is fleeting and will soon only make you suffer. The wine tastes good, the girl smells nice, the room is warm, but this will all come to an end, and then what? You have enjoyed the moments, and this is all you can do. Each moment you can turn the fall into a voluntary act, joyfully floating, abiding in each moment, accepting every step.”

Suddenly all falls completely dark, and he hears the Baba fading, “Seek Shambhala. Leave soon, before it’s too late.”

The tunnel speeds back in reverse coming to the conscious world. In a flash Bahi wakes up, staring at the dark ceiling. Dark and cold, Eva has rolled to the opposite side of the bed. Getting out of bed quietly the warm feeling of wine has turned into a headache and thirst. Wrapping a blanket around himself, he then secures Eva in her warm, fleece blankets as she sleeps. He softly opens the door, careful not to wake her, and goes outside to sit on the small, front porch area. Looking up at the bright moon, in the crisp sky of the North Indian night, he thinks about his dream and ponders the truth of the Baba. Just a few hours ago he had felt warm, secure, and fuzzy, and now he feels cold, insecure, and has a slight headache. He thinks about the answers he seeks, knowing that he must move on to find Shambhala tomorrow.

“Buzz, bzzz, what are you doing?” Fly asks, setting down on Bahi’s knee as the young philosopher, wrapped in a warm blanket, sits on the concrete porch of the guesthouse.

“Oh, Fly, I’m just thinking of how I have to move on tomorrow to find my destination.”

“I staying here. I finding love here,” Fly says, as Bahi softly laughs, feeling happy for him.

“I figured that. Good for you. I have to go alone anyway.”

“Bahi? Is that you?” Eva says in a groggy fog of waking. “Who are you talking to?”

“Nobody. Myself,” he answers, coming back into the room.

“What’s the matter, honey?” she asks, closing her eyes and pulling the covers closer to her head.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking. Go back to sleep,” he says, curling up close to her to warm himself, kissing her neck, and whispering, “go back to sleep, beautiful princess.” Eva smiles like a child hearing a bedtime story and falls fast asleep. Bahi drinks her in with his eyes, stroking her soft hair until he too falls off to sleep.