Page 94 of And Still Her Voice
“I had the same experience back around 1910,” Grandma said in her grating voice, “when I studied the works with the young Krishnamurti.”
Vihaan side-eyed me. “Anna, do you know the parable of the water snake?”
I shook my head, flicking the piece of grass.
“Basically, the moral of the story is that the trick lies in grasping the teachings properly so as not to get bitten and suffer death or death-like suffering.”
“I do believe I was bitten,” Grandma said, Vihaan side-eyeing me again.
“What I’ve learned from my grandmother, and the only things I’ve read on the subject of transference of consciousness, was that if you did it wrong, like if you didn’t let go of everything, you would suffer the consequences.” I was proof of what had gone wrong. Grandma had been on a fast track to enlightenment and it failed.
Vihaan confirmed what I’d read—that it was unwise to undertake the practice without initiation, oral transmission, and instruction from a lineage holder. So now what?
“I gather you are on a journey to undo what has been learned?”
“Now we’re talking.”
“Well, here is another story for you.”
I hadn’t come here for stories. I’d come here for the truth. Grandma had told so many tales leaving an imprint on me the size of an elephant’s foot, I wasn’t sure of the truth about anything.
“I had a teacher who taught me about this girl, Machiq, who was born as an Indian prince turned monk, and had achieved both spiritual and scholarly accomplishments at an early age. At twenty, he entered a cave where he left his body and merged his consciousness with a wrathful blue-black dakini, entering the womb of her mother.”
“Wait, he came out as a girl? Sorry, please go on.”
“Basically, her teachings have to do with, rather than emptying our mind or sending this ‘shadow’ off somewhere, we must learn to live with it. Bringing it to light through acceptance.”
“So, rather than let go, accept?” I asked.
“Real love is accepting the shadow and letting it evolve into something else. The more we deny the shadow, the more our lives are ruled by it.”
“Oh yes, indeed,” Grandma butt in. “This is what I’ve been trying to teach you all along, Anna. Things you won’t find in a book. You have to live it, go through it, and as the Swami said, let go of the fight. You can no longer deny that I exist.”
“And you’ve gotta stop controlling me.”
Vihaan stared at me and then stood as if he didn’t want to get involved in a domestic squabble. “I must get home to my family, but if there’s anything more I can tell you, I can meet you here again tomorrow evening.”
“Oh yes, thank you.” I stood, bringing my hands together, prayer-like. “Same bat time, same bat channel?”
“I love Batman,” he said, under the moonlight, his brilliance bouncing off his large, white teeth. He turned to leave, arms flapping as if he were a bat.
The next day after class, while I waited for Vihaan, I took a walk, in spite of the baking weather. Many different species of trees were in full bloom. There were just as many different bird sounds as well. I thought about nature and how I was part of thisgrander world I’d traveled, meeting different people of various races and religions. I was just a freckle on this big planet.
Vihaan showed up. “Shall we go for a walk?”
“Sure, I’ve already hiked around. There are so many trees and birds.”
“Yes, and I have names for all of them.” I listened as he listed them all.
“Impressive, you sound like an encyclopedia. Those were just the trees?”
“Shall I name the birds?”
We laughed. “No, that’s okay. I’d rather hear more stories like the one you told yesterday.” I liked Vihaan and the soothing sound of his voice. “Like the one where Machiq enters a cave. It sort of reminds me of my catechism and one of the Bible stories about how Jesus left the tomb and made an appearance to Mary Magdalene and some of his disciples and when they told Thomas, he said he’d need to stick his hand through the hole in Jesus’s side where the sword had pierced through.”
“Yes, Doubting Thomas. Actually, Saint Thomas was martyred here in Madras.”
“Really?”
