Shambhala (6 page)

“What’s a graveyard?” Kamini asks, with no answer from Bahi, who is on high alert, softly stepping through the dense mist, which rises up in a damp, eerie cloud.

The sounds of faint growling just ahead of them alert Bahi to grasp his staff extra tight. Palms sweating into the wood, he cautiously steps forward. The trees are old, and many look as though they have been dead for quite some time, hanging askew with naked branches randomly jutting out in ghastly directions. Kamini holds tight, digging her tiny, fearful, feet into Bahi’s shoulder. The ground is moist to the step, and the moonlight casts ghoulish shadows that move as they walk. The fog thickens, undulating like campfire smoke, lighting up in the moonlight as it swiftly rolls by. The growling grows louder, and as they draw closer, transforms into snorts. Bahi can make out the form of a dog-like animal ahead as he takes a step backward, to avoid being noticed. A pack of six striped hyena tear apart the remains of a corpse they have excavated from a poorly dug grave. Standing stout and dog-like, with striped coats and long moustaches like cats, they gargle and growl as they tug of war the body, pulling it in either direction, their muscles flexing as they tear bone and flesh. Their forelegs are longer than the hind, affording them good leverage for ripping apart their prey. Bahi stares out at the beasts, noticing their dark manes, which run all the way down their necks and backs, ending at a their bushy, short, tails. Bahi’s heart flutters in his chest. His entire body tenses, but he knows this is the only way to the Baba. Looking over at a large tree behind him, off to the left of the trail, he decides to crouch and stay there until they finish eating and go away. Slowly he backsteps, and without notice steps on a stick, which echoes out a loud cracking sound.

The hyenas all look up in unison. Their dark eyes catch Bahi as he freezes in terror. Kamini floats up into the tree, “Bahi, climb up here!” she shouts.

Still frozen, the animals slowly advance, coming so close he can see their coarse, rough, coats dull gray, with black stripes that shadow vertically on their bodies. Their eyes look ravenous as their blunt teeth flex inside their bloodstained mouths. Bahi grips the staff, realizing he can’t climb the tree and that to run would be futile. He envisions a scenario quickly through his survival mind:
I will aim a firm blow to the leader’s head and keep on until I hit all six
. His legs tremble. Butterflies well up in his stomach as sweat beads his face. He remembers the berries and quickly rips them from his pocket, almost dropping them. He shoves them into his mouth, dissolving the sweet taste he thinks may be his last. One hyena is so ravenous as he crouches and moves slowly in for the kill, that his mouth stutters and drools as he growls. Kamini is speechless. She wants to yell and scream, but nothing will come out. Her little heart beats so fast that she thinks it will beat right out of her.

Eyes fixed on the predators, trembling hands firmly gripping his walking stick, he raises the wooden staff in front of himself like a samurai sword, ready to make the first blow. Adrenaline rushes his body. His eyes widen and instincts sharpen. The world falls away, and all he can see is six ravenous beasts ready for a fight. The leader lunges forward, attacking, and Bahi screams out, ready to strike. There is a sudden halt. Screeching forward in the dirt with their claws, all six crouch down, looking ready to retreat. Bahi feels the presence of something behind him, and as he turns to look, a giant cobra stands tall above his head. He falls to the ground in fear of such an enormous creature and scurries to huddle against the tree in a fetus position, holding his stick tight. The cobra jolts forward with a loud hiss directed at the hyenas. They swiftly turn and run. One tries to grab a final piece of the corpse, but the cobra lunges again with a commanding hiss, sending him crying and yelping closely behind the others, his bushy tail bobbing up and down as they retreat into the pitch-black trail ahead.

Retracting his hood-like head, his long, thick, scaly body gracefully slithers forward, making a U-turn back toward Bahi, who is still curled up in fear next to the large tree. The cobra’s black head, decorated with yellow-speckled marks, shoots in front of Bahi, staring at him with beady eyes. The snake hisses as he moves his forked tongue in and out, rapidly sensing this clump of human terror. Bahi notices the snake’s fearsome beauty. Refusing to look the snake in the eyes, he trembles, hoping it will just slither away. Never has he seen a cobra, or any snake of such grandeur.
I must be dreaming
, he thinks, as he tightly closes his eyes and opens them, in the hopes that he’d been in bed dreaming, far from this nightmare. Yet, there he is, still face to face with the enormous cobra, whose head is bigger than his.

Cobra’s don’t exist this large
, he thinks, still trying to convince himself it’s a dream. Kamini stands fast, digging her feet into the tree high above, careful not to even breathe too loudly in fear of being noticed.

“I am a sssservant of Lord Kavi,” the snake softly hisses, head floating in the space before Bahi.

Remembering the berries, Bahi’s heart calms. “Kavi, Kavi!” he screams in hysterics, followed by an uncontrollably nervous laugh.

“Yessss. Kavi. You have summoned me through he.”

Bahi is still very intimidated by this enormous creature, but rises to his feet as the cobra swivels up to meet him eye to eye.

“What is your name?” Bahi asks, as Kamini floats down with apprehension.

“Muchalinda,” he says with a grin.

“I am Bahi, and this is Kamini,” he introduces, still a hint of trembling in his voice.

“Yesssssss, I know. How may I be of assistance?”

“Thank you so much. You have saved my life already.”

Muchalinda gives a humble nod to his effortless feat. “This trail is full of dangers. Where do you wish to go?”

“I am on my way to see the Baba. Is it very far?”

Muchalinda bows his head, hearing the Baba’s name. “Not too far. Come, I will protect and lead you there, for thisssss foressssssssst is no place for sssssssssuch a delicate ssssssssssspeciesssssssss,” he hisses melodramatically, tongue slithering in and out smelling Bahi.

“Thank you, Muchalinda. I am forever in your debt.”

“I ssssssssssserve Lord Kavi. The debt is all mine. Come,” Muchalinda beckons as he slithers his smooth scaly body next to Bahi, who wonders at the immensity of such a snake, thinking he must be some sort of illusion, as he pokes Muchalinda softly.

“Zookeepers would have a field day,” he thinks.

“Get on, hisss.”

“On you?” Kamini asks, seeming concerned.

“Yesss, pleassssse.”

Kamini sits upon Bahi’s head as he mounts Muchalinda and grasps his smooth, scaly body. He has never felt an animal such as Muchalinda. The skin is like some sort of high-tech material, as each scale shifts in perfect unison with every movement. Feeling they’re secure upon his body, Muchalinda swiftly slithers about the jungle floor along the trail. Bahi smiles like a child on a roller coaster as the cool night breeze whips through his hair, prompting Kamini to strengthen her grip.

The jungle is dark, and at this quick pace not much can be seen. Bahi holds tight, wrapping his thighs and arms around Muchalinda, his chest firmly pressed upon the scales. Blessed with night vision, Muchalinda smoothly sails through the darkness.

“Wooo, hooo!” Bahi yells out, with one hand shaking a fist in the air. Their speed is swift, smooth, and focused, and within thirty minutes they come to a halt.

The sun begins to rise as Muchalinda wraps his head back toward Bahi and Kamini. “Here you can walk. It’s very closssssssse,” he hisses, pointing his head toward the opening of what looks like the end of the trail.

Bahi dismounts, hair puffed and straggled from the ride’s winds, “Thank you again for our safety, Muchalinda.”

Closing his solid, black, beady eyes, he bows his head before them. The yellow speckles of his head reflect the morning sun, which glows soft upon them now as the night fog slowly lifts, burning into the air. “It’s an honor to ssssserve,” Muchalinda says before swiftly turning his body in the other direction and cutting through the jungle floor like smooth butter. In a flash he is gone, leaving Bahi and Kamini standing in the silence of morning break.

D
UST DANCES WITH
small bugs in the thick of morning, which seems to rise up toward the sun that shines down softly upon the jungle. Looking forward, Bahi notices a white-stone archway that stands out among the darker stones, which rise up tall around it to create a wall that juts off into the jungle in either direction. The fragrances of sweet flowers permeate the air, and colorful berries dot the exotic foliage that lead to the stone entryway. Birds sing to the morning sun, and a peaceful air gently sifts through, carrying the scent of lavender, relaxing all in its path. Making his way to the entry, Bahi wonders at the beauty of precision in each stone that seems to be perfectly cut out to fit into the jungle that grows harmoniously around it. Noticing a smooth, silken-black bird with a boxed-orange tail, his gaze fixes on her as she pops her tail up and down, almost beckoning him into the entryway. The bird looks back and flies forward out of sight as Bahi sticks his head into the entryway, which leads into a large cavern.

“Hello,” he calls out as his voice echoes through the seemingly endless cave.

“Should we go inside?” he rhetorically asks, already inwardly resolved to do so.

“I suppose we should,” she says watching as Bahi steps in.

The cave is plain, softly lit by sun that reflects beautiful, colored crystals inlaid in the grayish cave walls.

“Hello, Baba?” Bahi calls out, and as they go deeper in, the entryway closes off behind them as a light shines down from an opening in the ceiling.

“Sit,” a voice calls out as a fire magically ignites a single, thick log, lying in a small clay cylinder molded to the floor.

Bahi sits close to the fire to warm himself from the chill of morning.
I can’t see anyone
, he thinks as he squints to search the small area around him.

“Sometimes what we see isn’t necessarily what is there,” the voice says, as a man materializes across from him on the other side of the fire, sitting in a meditative pose. The man looks very modern, with short, black hair, wearing jeans and a white, collared, buttondown shirt.

Surely this isn’t the Baba
, Bahi thinks, expecting someone different.

“How does one believe a Baba should look?” the man asks, reading Bahi’s thoughts, and in an instant he morphs into Bahi’s expectation of a wise-looking Baba, complete with a full grayish beard, long black hair, dark Indian skin, and a gaze of green eyes that set upon an infectious smile evoking peace with a single look. “Is this better?”

“Uh, yes, I mean no, I don’t know,” Bahi says dumbfounded, nervous and now feeling a bit silly to be judging who is obviously a powerful being in front of him.

“Be aware what your mind sees, for what we perceive as real is mere illusion. The wise take many forms, and to discount one on looks is to overlook the sweet nectar life has to offer. All are your teachers. The truth is one, although it takes many forms.” Smiling, the Baba looks directly into Bahi’s eyes.

“Yes, Baba, I understand,” Bahi says, learning already a great deal in the first few minutes of their meeting.

“Say, child—What brings you through certain danger to arrive at my doorstep?”

“Baba, I have forgotten who I am, and even that which they tell me I am I do not relate.”

“Mmm,” the Baba listens and thinks deeply.

Not hearing a response, Bahi insecurely speaks again. “I have this paper but don’t remember where I got it. It’s all I have. I somehow hit my head rather hard and passed out, and when I woke up I had nothing but this paper and a pair of light shorts.” Standing, he hands the paper to the Baba, who looks at it in silence.

“Hmmm,” he thinks for a moment. “This is the Om, the sound of creation. Out of the ethers comes existence, beginningless,” the Baba explains.

A bit cosmic, huh? Doesn’t really answer my question
, Bahi thinks in confusion.

The Baba stands, “Come, we will have breakfast. You must be famished after your long journey.”

Bahi and Kamini smile in unison, noticing the aroma of food, which invites their rumbling stomachs from afar. Following the Baba to the back of the cave, he exits through a small door into the sunlight. Entering a beautiful garden area, a small table sits decorated with breads freshly steaming, fruits, juices, curds, and sweets—a feast fit for kings. Bahi’s eyes widen and mouth waters as the Baba calmly points him to the feast before them. Kamini gently bounces from flower to flower along a smooth, washed-out, stone wall that encloses them. One flower is more delicious than the next. Bahi dips a buttered roll into some banana-honey porridge and washes it down with fresh papaya juice. He hasn’t had a proper meal in days. Finishing the meal, he wishes he had two stomachs to fit more of the delicious food. The Baba sits quietly gazing and sipping tea from a small porcelain cup, not a morsel of food has he eaten.

“Kamini also wishes to ask you something,” Bahi says, with a full and happy belly. “She has lost her family and thought you may be able to help.”

The Baba’s smile puts their minds at ease and attracts Kamini to land upon his hand. He drinks in her beautiful, silky-black wings, admiring the iridescent blue circles, which surround dark purple dots, one on each wing.

“Come, we’ll walk,” the Baba says, rising up and exiting the garden through a small back entrance that leads into the jungle. The Baba walks slowly, his every step seemingly purposeful as his white linen cloth gently dances with every movement. Barefoot, he places each step down in gratitude and mindfulness, “So you wish to know who you are? This question man has sought since beginningless time. You tell me you have amnesia, and I say even if I tell you who you were, still your burning desire would seek the truth you’re after. All things are beginningless and never die.”

“But things die, surely,” Bahi says.

“You are correct, and every moment this is happening, yet there is the truth, which is endless and beginningless. We like to believe we have a creation, a beginning, but if you check, it’s all beginningless, all formless, always changing. There is no part of you that is not Kamini and no part of Kamini that is not you.”

Again, quite cosmic
, Bahi thinks, trying to grasp the Baba’s enigmatic speech.

The Baba looks at him directly in the eyes, “and the cosmos follows the same law,” he says, sternly humbling Bahi.

They stop near a large spiderweb. Kamini has fallen behind as the allure of a beautiful feast of flowers has slowed her pace. A large, bluish spider with two even yellow lines on her back is busy weaving her web.

“Take this web. Each part connects to the other, and what looks random is all created by the spider. She is responsible for every piece, and each subsequent piece arises out of the one before it.”

Bahi watches intently as the spider, weaving intricate patterns together, turns out a silky web. “This is like our existence, each connection. The very reason she is seen as a spider is due to past actions. Surely she is a spider as much as you are a human. There is order in this web of life, and we create it. We are stuck in this web of life, and we have woven, by our own actions, each fiber of it. I tell you this: we can free ourselves from this web, and when we do we will realize their never was a web. We spin our web with our actions. When we harm others, when we lust and crave and desire, we spin thick the web of desire and entangle ourselves in a web that holds us back from the very things we thought we were after. To enjoy the fruits of life we must be aware of this web we are weaving.”

Just then Kamini comes flying in, excited, unmindfully snagging herself right into the spiders web, high up out of Bahi’s reach.

“Oh, no! Help!” Kamini pleads as she struggles to break free, only further entangling herself.

“Help her!” Bahi calls out as the spider runs toward her in a flash to inject her poison, rendering Kamini paralyzed. Eyes glazed over, she lies lifeless upon the web.

“You must do something!” Bahi pleads, trying unsuccessfully to scale the tree.

“This is the fate Kamini has created. It’s all in order,” the Baba says, standing in calm reverance.

“Nooooo, we must!”

The spider has wrapped Kamini in a thick, cottony web of death. Tears fall down Bahi’s cheeks as his feet rip bark from the tree in his last attempt to get at the web up the tree.

“We have to help each other, this I am sure of. Please, Baba, please do something.”

“Yes, we must, and as we notice the suffering and ignorance of us all, our compassion and wish to help every sentient being free itself from the web that consumes us all gives us the power to release ourselves. Only then will we have the power to release all others.”

“You are all-powerful, surely you can save her!”

“Her fate is inevitable. Even if I were to save her, she would die sometime. And this death she has created by her past actions. This may seem harsh, but it’s a harsh web we weave. And I tell you this: who you know as Kamini can never die, just as the ‘Who am I?’ you seek is beginningless and endless, always changing form, dying every second, being reborn into the web thicker and thicker.”

“How do I release myself from the web? How do I save Kamini?!” Bahi asks in desperation. “Please, teach me!”

“Bahi, calm your mind,” the Baba says with a hypnotic gaze, dropping Bahi’s mind into a calm state. “Look up at this spider. Can you see her young?”

Bahi squints up past the now cotton outline of Kamini and sees tiny spots of spiders moving around, “Yes, I see them.”

“These spiders are all in the same web. They too need to eat and they too suffer day in and day out trying to live. The answer does not lie in gaining freedom for ourselves and the ones that only relate to this sense of
I
. It is only found when we release that sense of
I
and truly want to gain freedom from this web in order to help all beings, Kamini as well as the spiders.”

“Can you teach me how, Baba?”

“I know of a place you will find all the answers you seek, a place where Kamini still flies. You wish to answer your question and save Kamini? Then it is there you will achieve this.”

“Please tell me Baba. Oh, I can’t look!” Bahi says, turning his head from the web where the spider now begins to drain Kamini’s blood.

“Come, Bahi,” the Baba says, walking away towards the garden.

“No, I can’t. Kamini!”

“Let her go, Bahi. Only then can you truly free her. Let it go, move on, we all die, this body will wither away and decay, and one day change form and melt into the Earth. I assure you that the
I
you seek does not exist, and the truth of your existence can never die.”

Entering back into the garden, Bahi wipes the tears from his cheeks. “Please, Baba, I can’t take the pain all around me any longer. You must teach me the way.”

“I can teach you much, but you must lead yourself out. Only you can do this. High up in the mountains of yourself, walk North and find Shambhala. There you will find the answers you seek.”

The Baba puts his arm around Bahi, comforting his pain. “Bahi, you will find the answers you seek there, I promise. Try to remember there is a cycle of life. We chose our tales in this web we weave, distracting ourselves every day, pretending we will not suffer the same fate as Kamini. And this I tell you: Kamini, will soon be born again into this web of life, and the suffering will still be there. Go, Bahi, liberate yourself and help your friend. Don’t let the pain overtake you. All is impermanent and in perfect rapture. You choose how you want to experience it all.”

Bahi’s head spins, exhausted from no sleep and the morning’s drama.

“It’s OK to feel sad, cry, be who you are. If you are happy, smile. If you are sad, cry. This is the beauty of life. Allow yourself to feel it,” the Baba gently says to Bahi, who is holding back his tears. “Please lie, sleep, and in the morning you will leave when you are refreshed.”

Bahi lies on soft white pillows that seemed to manifest at his feet. Lying in the sun, he rests all day, drifting in and out of sleep.

Evening has come and the Baba has prepared some rice and
dhal
for them, which they eat in the silence of Bahi’s uncertainty. After the meal, the Baba speaks, “I wish to teach you something for your journey. It will bring protection in the face of danger.” The Baba closes his eyes and opens his mouth, letting out a beautiful mantra. “
Om namah narayanaya
,” he sings over and again. The vibration consumes everything as Bahi’s eyes close and he begins to sing in unison, “
Om namah narayanaya, om namah narayanaya
.” He becomes the vibration as all worries, all fears, all pains cease to exist. And when they stop, he opens his eyes, pervaded by peace.

“Say this with a pure heart in the face of certain danger, and safety will guide you.”

“Thank you, Baba,” Bahi says, lowering his head in reverence, keeping the catchy mantra in his mind.

“You sleep now, for tomorrow you begin a long journey.”

“Yes, Baba,” Bahi says with respect as he lies on the soft, white blankets that again seemed to have just appeared next to him.

“Goodnight. Tonight you die to be reborn in the morning, like every second that exists.”

“Die?” Bahi says, sitting up in nervous excitement.

“Yes, Bahi, every second we die and are reborn. This is how it all works. If not, things would be fixed, like a photo. If not, I wouldn’t even be able to complete this sentence, for the next word to be uttered, the one before it, must die, bringing birth to the next. Likewise as you fall deep into sleep you regenerate with the peace of death to be reborn fresh in the morning, have an auspicious night, young one,” the Baba says as he makes his way into the cave. Bahi lies staring up at the stars that pour down upon him. He misses Kamini and Bandar, and thinking about the day, he begins to drift off to sleep. The smell of incense guides him deeper, and the mantra,
om namah narayanaya
sooths the pains that cut his heart, as the deep bliss of slumber washes over him. The world he thinks he knows melts away, his body still, like a corpse, dies into the night.