When God Walked the Earth

That my journey ended in Varanasi was no accident. The city of Moksha. Thousands come here everyday to was away their sins, cremate their loved ones or just die. This is after all the bridge between this world and the next. Irrefutable logic in this. Do your worst and with a dip wash away your sins. I still do not understand humans. But this place appeals to my current disposition. Varanasi is unapologetic. It celebrates life and death with equal religious fervor like no other place on this planet. There is a certain dark magic to this city.

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Walking along labyrinth of the galis along the ghats of the old city, I was incessantly assaulted by the sights and sounds of Varanasi. 
"Sir, you wanting massage?, “boatride?’ or “ear clean?”
"No," I say for the hundredth time. 

I made my way to the famous Shiva Kashi Guest House which has rooms that overlook the river and doesn't require you to have a fortune for the view. It did not disappoint. As I lay there on the creaky bed smoking my first cigarette of the day, I was restless. The dark shadows were still following me. I am still haunted by my past and all the things I had seen in this short life. I needed answers. But what were the questions? Life or was it something more sinister? I drifted into an uneasy sleep...

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It was almost midnight and the city lit so bright that it almost gave the illusion of day. But I was wandering the more secluded parts of the ghats looking for something darker. Dying embers of funeral pyres. And the Aghoris that congregated around them. Like the proverbial moth to the flame (or lamb to slaughter?) I was drawn to the Aghora chant echoing through a full moon night. I approached a group sitting in a circle all but lost to the outside world. With a speed that was otherworldly, one of them stood up, his voice booming,
"Who dare disturb our prayers on this night? Who goes there?"
"Sorry Baba, I heard your chanting and I was curious," I replied. 
"Your curiosity will bring you great sorrow."

Was that a threat or some 'divine' premonition? Before I could jump to my next thought, his voice boomed once more, 
"Come closer and let me take a good look at you. You are an intruder. It is only polite that your face be etched in my mind."

I walked closer and what a sight he was. Dreadlocked hair up to his waist, smeared in ash and eyes shining with a madness that sent a shiver down my spine. Fear of humans was alien to me but his eyes held me in a fearful trance. And suddenly in perfect English he asked, 
"Have we met before? Your face...I know this face." 
"I am afraid we have never met before. This is my first time in Varanasi, baba."
"What is it that you are looking for in this holiest of lands?"
"Nothing good, " I quipped.
He looked at me with those blazing eyes for a few seconds and laughed out loud. 
"Wait till I finish my prayers and we shall talk," he commanded.

I watched mesmerized as they smoked, chanted, danced and ate. Their ways seemed almost disgusting but there was a purity of purpose to everything they did. 

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He swayed and danced his way toward me, his eyes a challenge "Something plagues your soul," he said. "You are restless. The answer to your questions are not here. They are not anywhere. It is not in denial but in acceptance."

"I don't even know what it is I seek, baba. I am always angry. I am haunted by what i have seen and done. The ugliness. It feeds my rage. I don't know how to have a moment of quiet inside my head."
"Everything is born from the dark. To deny is to deny your true self as God made you. Embrace your darkness. Use it to be different from the armchair critics who sit in their big homes with their luxuries and lament about the state of things. Take your rage and destroy that which causes ugliness. Do it selflessly even for one individual. Embrace not deny."

Was it really that simple? Could it be? Accept the demons in my soul. Attempting to steer the conversation away from my troubled mind, I asked, 
"Tell me about yourself, baba."
"In a previous life my name was Daya Shankar Mahapatra. I am sure you will find out who I am. You are a curious one. Now I am known as Trinethra Baba. I chose this life because I do not belong to this world of maya. The Aghori life has shown me the way to shed this false civilization."
"But why would you turn your back on everything that is human?'
"Who is to decide what makes us human? My life is dedicated to Bhole Nath and Adi Shakti. This mortal body will join return to Them. And maybe join my family in the afterlife."
"But isn't that against the Aghori belief system? Attachment to relationships of this world?"

He smiled at me and said, "You are a clever one. Yes, it is against our beliefs. But I have my reasons. I ask Mahadev to give me one chance."
"One chance at what?"
"One chance to touch to touch my son on this earth before I lose myself to this life completely."

"But...," I was interrupted by him walking away from me. I guessed my time was up. As I walked back the other way, he turned around and said, 
"Come back tomorrow at the same time. And I am still sure we have met before."

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In the dark of the hotel room, I did what the rest of the human race does to appear intelligent these days. I googled him. He was one of the most promising scientists in ISRO in his 'previous' life. Armed with an astronomical I.Q. he was published all over the world. An eminent scientist- the article said. I couldn't help but think; why would a man of such intelligence chose a life of extreme faith? As I read on, there it was! Six years ago his wife and only son died in a plane crash. He quit his job and was never heard from again. His words echoed in my head,
"to touch my son..."

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The next night could not have come fast enough. As I walked toward our meeting spot, I was filled with fear and expectation. He sat around a fire and smell of marijuana filled the air. Beckoning me to sit beside him, he offered his chillum. We sat smoking silently as the night wore on. Suddenly without a word he smeared ash on my face and took me by the hand. Holding them tight in his gnarly fingers, he sat me atop a dying funeral pyre. The silence of the night was pierced by the chant, 
"Om Hreem Mahayakshini Pradaatrayai Namah"

The night became dark and heavy. Thunder and lightning, as if the anger of God, fell from the sky. I felt a peace wash over my entire being. And with the suddenness with which it began, it ended. Sensing my time with him was up once more I got up to leave. He opened his eyes and asked, 
"When were you born, son?"
"March 9, 1985," I replied. 
"And what was the name your parents gave you?"
"Shiva," I replied once again. 

For a moment all of nature seemed to fall silent. His eyes were brimming with tears. He said, 
"My son was born 9th March 1985 and we named him Shiva."
Har Har Mahadev echoing, he walked away into the night. 

                                         The End

© Lost

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