Читать книгу: «Kashi», страница 6

„Tomorrow we will begin with the practice. Please be here at dawn. You will have to leave your hotel by six. Aparoksh will pick you up. At this time of day, you will need fifteen minutes to get here."

Karen got up. Paul packed his cello quickly and followed her. When they reached the door, his rickshaw boy was already waiting.

„Ah, Mister Paul, very nice seeing you!" The boy's honest friendliness touched Paul extremely.

„I am very happy to see you, too, Mister Aparoksh“, he teased.

„No, no. Me no Mister. Me just one of millions of Indian boys, all different but same same. But you are famous, Mister Paul. You are somebody.“

Paul looked at Karen irritatedly. She gave the boy her loving smile that belonged to him just like his colorful vehicle. He is a very lucky boy, Paul thought, and for a second it seemed to him that Karen nodded in silent consent.

◊◊◊

The morning fog was thick and impenetrable. Aparoksh waited for Paul in front of the hotel, wrapped in a thin brownish blanket and with bare feet. Newly burgeoning pity made Paul decide to buy a pair of sneakers for the boy this afternoon.

The fog swallowed any noise and covered the entire city with a feeling of melancholia, which Paul had never felt anywhere else in the world. “This city has so many faces”, he thought, when he climbed onto the rickshaw. Aparoksh took off his blanket and tucked it tightly around Paul, smiling his big enthusiastic smile.

„Have a nice quick ride this morning, Mister Paul. Streets is empty. You relax.“

Paul leaned back and took a deep breath of the humid morning air that carried the smell of countless fires: warming fires, cooking fires, crematory fires, ritual fires... Aparoksh yoked his vehicle and began to trot down the hotel driveway into the silent and slow traffic gradually speeding up. Today the bells on the cart were needed more than ever. Even the lights of the cars could hardly be seen, but the rickshaw, its driver and its passenger were almost invisible. Only the gentle, but persistent sound of the bells, allowed other drivers to recognize them. Surprisingly, Paul did not feel the slightest notion of fear. Aparoksh drove him attentively and almost as securely as a train on magnetic tracks. They reached the river as fast as promised. The boy looked happy when he dropped his passenger and Karen offered him a hot cup of tea.

„It's cool this morning!" She rubbed her palms, noticing Paul´s down jacket. „But you are dressed perfectly, Paul. Come in. We will sit on the terrace."

Paul walked all the way through the apartment and out on the balcony. A wave of mist welcomed him outside, while Karen poured Aparoksh tea into a huge, well-polished steel mug.

„It´s hot, Aparoksh, be careful.”

The boy tested the warmth with his lips. „Pooh, Miss Karen, wonderful hot. Keeping me alive this morning.“

Karen laughed and slapped the boy on his back. „Go, busy buddy. Go! There are millions of tourists out there waiting for you.“

The boy laughed and ran out of the house. „Bye, Mister Paul!“

„Bye, Aparoksh. Have a good day.“

Cold and humidity of the foggy morning had enveloped Paul fully when Karen joined him outside.

“Are you cold?“, she asked almost as caring as she had talked to Aparoksh.

“A little“, he confessed.

“You can sit here.“ She pointed toward two carpets and cushions on her left placed on the terrace floor in front of the wall parallelly.

„Take the blanket and wrap yourself in it“, she suggested.

She sat down with her legs crossed, easily covering herself. Obviously, this procedure was routine for her. Paul did not want to keep her waiting. He tried to tuck his feet under his knees to find a stable posture, but he was not used to sitting on the floor and his feet began to hurt the minute he sat there. But the blanket was soft and warm, and he was happy to cover himself with it.

Karen closed her eyes, and the minute she began to look inside, Paul started to sense a strong energy that had not been present before. Karen´s expression relaxed and changed. She looked peaceful and blissful. When Paul saw her like that, his heart opened up, widened, calmed and lightened. He, too, closed his eyes now. Karen seemed to know exactly what he did and what he felt. She began to talk in a soft voice, leading him deeper into the inner world that was completely new to him.

„Meditation is a natural state of consciousness that is interconnected with awareness, mindfulness. Just watch your body in the unfamiliar posture from the toes to the crown of the head. Feel any pain or relaxation, feel the bodies temperature, but don´t judge and don´t fight what is. The body teaches us to be here and now, to be aware instead of judgmental.“

Paul tried to follow her clear instructions, to see the body was one thing, but not wanting to move to get rid of the pain in his legs was another.

„If there is pain, notice it and lead the breath into the part of your body, that hurts. Guide the breath gently with your awareness, concentrating on the painful spot and breathe. The breath comes and goes naturally, our awareness is like a laser pointer that can direct the breath anywhere we want and with the breath, we direct prana, energy, into this part of the body."

She was right. He felt warmth and relaxation, where before he had felt stiffness, tightness, and pain.

„When the pain has gone, begin to watch your breath only. The natural breath that lifts and lowers the stomach. Breathing in the stomach lifts, breathing out the stomach sinks. Expansion and contraction.“

Paul relaxed deeper and deeper.

„You are the witness now, witnessing the body, witnessing the breath that moves the body, witnessing thoughts and feelings that arise in the mind.“

Karen seemed to know as much about the different realms of human experience as she knew about music. Paul had never separated the different fields of experience, but now, as he was lead to see them, he realized that this separation brought inner clarity and relief. Suddenly, he experienced perception and cognition as two totally different faculties of the mind. Here and now it almost felt like a sin, a sacrilege not to be aware of the fact that the field of perception was far greater than that of cognition. And Paul truly became the witness now, entering a higher field of consciousness that he had rarely experienced in very few of his concerts, when he had become part of the flow of creative energy which united music, musicians, and audience. As he began to identify with this witnessing consciousness, he started seeing things from a higher perspective, holistically rather than partially. He saw himself and Karen sitting on the balcony, the Ganges, the house, the awakening city.

„Witness anything that comes to your mind and let it go. Images come and go, ideas come and go, meaning, interpretation comes and goes. See, how any idea, pops up in your mind, lives for a moment and vanishes into the same nothingness, where it originated from. Things are born, they exist and they die. You clearly witness this process of creation.“

Again, Karen´s words had a direct impact on Paul´s perception. He saw exactly what she had just described. And the longer he witnessed this process of creation, the calmer his mind became. Fewer thoughts, fewer images, fewer ideas arose, lived and vanished into a strange void that he could not grasp. Karen had fallen silent. Paul hesitated for a moment, not knowing what he should do now, but then he realized that he did not do anything to get here and he did not have to do anything to stay here. Witnessing was totally different from doing, it was opposed to doing. Karen´s strong inner silence began to spread inside of him; nothingness grew, became stronger and more persistent. Together with Karen Paul entered a huge, spaceless void inside of his consciousness, that could also be called silence because the inner voice had finally stopped to chatter. He could feel that Karen was imperturbably established in this inner state, that this was her inner home, her point of reference, her refuge. Because of this, she appeared so stable, so aware, so alive, so calm and so knowing. These moments of mutual silence on the terrace alongside the river were the most precious moments of Paul´s life. He had never felt such a peace, such security, such well-being, such consciousness. It was like he knew everything and at the same time nothing. He could feel that life was far greater than he had ever imagined. No, here life seemed to be totally different from what he had thought.

From far the subtle sound of the first morning aarti bells reached the meditators on the balcony. Paul did not hear the ringing and tingling with his ear, he rather heard it with his entire body that vibrated like a thin and sensitive membrane in accord with the temple bells. This subtle vibration spread inside of every cell and nerve within his body. Yet, it was an experience far beyond the body. Paul was absolutely one with the vibration, he was the vibration at this moment and at the same time he was able to witness this union, this oneness of himself and the sacred sound. The sound vibration echoed within him, no it happened within him and when the bells at the ghats had long stopped to ring, Paul was still enveloped in their frequency. The sound waves surged through him from outside to the inside and finally centered in his heart, that was still vibrating, when the rest of his body had already calmed and quieted. Paul felt totally peaceful, lighthearted and somehow purified.

Karen´s voice entered his mind from far and seemed unreal at first. „Take a deep breath in and watch the breath within your body. Become more and more aware of your physical form and presence, the feet, the legs, arms, trunk, and head. See the physical body in front of your mind's eye. Know what you are wearing, where you are sitting. Smell the fresh morning air, hear the sounds of the birds. Bring your consciousness back to the worldly realm, the physical experience, the manifested forms. Then, take another deep breath in and open your eyes slowly."

The fog had vanished and the sun sent its warming rays everywhere. Paul was blinded by its light. Everything seemed bright and alive, filled with a tremendous energy. Karen got up easily without looking at him. She went inside and he heard her work in the kitchen. The familiar sound of water, cooking on her stove gave him a strange feeling of being at home.

Paul began to unfold his legs, which – to his surprise - did not hurt at all. He stretched them and got up quickly. The sun had warmed the air. Paul took off his jacket and looked onto the river, where the boatmen had begun their long and busy day. Paul realized that life of all the over one million inhabitants of Varanasi was closely linked to the rhythm of the sun. The sun governed beginning and end of all daily activities. Not only of the poor, who depended on the sun´s light, because they did not have any electricity.

Karen returned with a tray filled with steaming copper bowls.

„Come Paul. You need a warm breakfast now.“

He went over to the chairs and the table.

„Here. Be a little bit careful the bowl could still be hot.“

She sat with him and took her bowl with her scarf. He did not dare to lift his. Instead, he left it at the table and tasted the steaming mush with his spoon. A sweet, floral flavored taste spread within his mouth.

„Do you like it? It's a halva made with semolina. In winter this is our favorite breakfast because it is warm and nourishing at the same time.”

„What´s that flowery taste?”

„Cardamom and rosewater."

He tried a larger portion. „Delicious. It reminds me of porridge.“

She wagged her head the Indian way. „Yes, that´s true!“ Paul was sure that she followed a thread of positive personal memories of this British breakfast.

He watched her curiously when she took the next bite. Now, after this morning's meditation, he understood her introversion much better. He had never met anybody, whose awareness was so focused on some other level of being, out of reach of sensory perception. She was a very special woman, he thought. There was such a notable tenderness and innocence in her expression and movements. She suddenly appeared so fragile and sensitive to him, that he was moved to tears. He looked down at his bowl to hide his emotions and took the cup of hot ginger tea she had served with the halva. And he remembered that he had perceived this same innocence and vulnerability when he had first seen her on stage in Berlin. Even back then, Paul had understood within her, he had seen the true state of the soul, vulnerable and strong. He himself had long lost this innocence, perhaps he had never had it. She looked like a child, unhurt by life.

Paul had met so many people along his way, who had pushed themselves into positive attitudes. This was the American dream and the American way. Sitting with Karen this morning made him realize how fake, how illusive this pseudo strength was; based on fear and not on innocence, on pain and not on purity, on hopelessness and not on artlessness.

Their eyes met and, she too, had tears in hers.

„Innocence is truth“, she said and wiped her tears with a handkerchief. He was so surprised that he started to cough.

She got up and almost coevally the doorbell rang.

„This is Aparoksh. It´s time to go now, Paul. We will meet tomorrow morning at six again.“

She looked straight at him, not trying to hide her emotions and not trying to protect herself in any way. He was speechless, stunned, impressed by her emotional strength and honesty. She was so much with him that she could read his most intimate thoughts and at the same time she was totally with herself, never losing her center and never being untrue to her own thoughts and feelings. How was this honesty possible, that stripped him to his bones and left him with a feeling of nakedness that he immediately wanted to cover.

Paul felt relieved, when he sat on the bench of Aparoksh´s rickshaw, far out of Karen´s reach. Yet, his feelings were still stirred, agitated by her behavior and her reactions. Aparoksh was in a talkative mood He stopped chatting and ran as fast as he could through the mid-morning traffic because Paul gave only monosyllabic answers. Of course, the boy still ran with bare feet, but Paul did not feel the same pity that he had felt this morning, no need to buy him shoes. In fact, Paul was in a totally different mood now. Even though emotions had overwhelmed him at breakfast, he was totally clear and calm again, witnessing everything rather than experiencing it. He still saw things manifesting, existing for a while and then dissolving; images and experiences passing by on the three-dimensional screen of his worldly consciousness. For the first time, he did not look at Aparoksh judgmentally. He was able to see the boy the way he was, rather than the way he should have been from his point of view. Now, Paul was able to perceive, what Karen had assured him of: Aparoksh was a happy boy. He did not lack anything.

◊◊◊

Karen met Rahmanji after lunch. He visited her for a Chai and to say goodbye before leaving town for a concert in Patna. She served the tea casually in her living room. The midday sun was too hot to sit outside. Rahmanji sat on the floor and looked at her solicitously.

„You don´t have to do this, if you don´t want to, Beti.“ He only called her daughter, when he worried about her well-being.

„I am fine“, she assured him, looking pale and tired.

„This is only the beginning. He will see many more things within you and many of them he will not like.“

„I know, Rahmanji, I know. I have seen this happening so many times. But this time it's stronger, more intense. I take it as a good sign. He has a lot of spiritual energy and he has to recognize it."

„That´s true, Beti, but what about you. You also have to think of yourself.“

She nodded, gazing into the depth of her cup.

„Two things could happen, my child. He might think that he is in love with you. And he might hate you for the hidden pain that he discovers through you. Both situations will not be easy to handle.”

„We both know, how to cope with desire and fear, Rahmanji. I can´t promise anything, but I need to try and walk with him as far as possible. It´s my duty and you know that.“ Karen looked at the elder man for the first time today.

„If it gets too much for you, let him return after these two weeks. He will be able to resume his old life without difficulties. But when he comes back, you have to go through this with him.“

She nodded softly. „I know. You said it was my chance and my lesson. I will take it as that; only as that. When I am a mirror for him, he is a mirror for me." Her voice was soft but strong and confident.

„Good. I am always with you, you know that.“ He looked at her with so much love that she almost started to cry again. This was an emotional day for her. She remembered a talk they had had about the same matter the night when they went to the aarti. He had encouraged her to trust in divine love completely. Why this change now? Did she already make a mistake? Had she failed?

„Did I do anything wrong, Pita?“

„No, Karen. Not at all. It´s just...“ He tried to find an explanation. „I am afraid this is touching you too much.“

„If we truly love, Pita, is there anything that can touch us too much? In love, we have to be intimate and vulnerable. And we have to be committed. Otherwise, we do not truly love."

„There are not many people, who love like you, Beti. Be careful.“

„I promise: if I have any doubt, he will not come back!“

◊◊◊

Aparoksh came neatly dressed to Paul´s hotel the following early morning. He wore a clean white shirt and a pair of gray trousers. His hair was freshly cut and oiled. A colorful flower garland hung around his neck.

„Wow! You look good, Aparoksh. Are you getting married today?“

The youngster laughed. „Almost, Mister Paul. But no, no! My birthday today. Fifteen years myself. Very grown up now.“

„Oh, congratulations, Aparoksh. Very happy birthday.“

„Very happy, young adult me, Mister Paul. And me want to have little party tonight. You must come my special famous guest.“

Paul grinned. „Can I just come as Paul and not as special guest?“

„Sure, sure. You comes as my friend, Mister Paul?“

„Sounds much better to me.“

„Miss Karen also coming. You can comes together. Miss Karen know my house in the old town by burning ghats.“

Paul bowed slightly. „It will be my pleasure.“

◊◊◊

Only twenty minutes later Paul sat next to Karen on the balcony floor again. This morning's fog was not as heavy. The temperature had dropped below ten degrees centigrade. Paul pulled the zipper of his jacket up to his chin and wrapped the blanket twice around his shoulders. Karen looked pale and a little tired, but her voice was soft, clear and strong like always. She led him into the state of meditation again. Paul followed her instructions easily. His mind emptied and mutually they sat in a timeless void. Luckily, he did not know anything about meditation and did not expect anything. Without her, he would never have tried it, but here, in her world, in this timeless city, it was almost impossible not to meditate. Especially at this time of day, when people began to wake up and the river appeared to fight its way forward to the ocean in slow motion. The hour before sunlight was a special hour in Varanasi and Paul felt the energy of this inside of his own being.

She did not explain anything to him. Neither what they did nor why they did it. Paul knew that she was teaching him something, but he had no clue what that might be. Her way of imparting knowledge seemed to be very direct, practical and self-explanatory. It had a strong effect on him. After one day only he felt more relaxed, more aware, more open and less prejudiced. He was more curious and dynamic, and he began to forget, who he was back home. Paul Madden did not matter here. The composer did not exist, nor did the teacher or conductor. Paul was not a father, also. For the first time in many painful years, he did not see himself as a divorced husband. With Karen he became a student again; one, who did not know anything, not even the subject of his studies. Was it the secrets of Indian music? Or did he study himself? Or both? With her, he seemed to have no past. This state itself brought tremendous relief. There was no role to play, no expectations to meet, no regrets and no guilt.

At the exact same time as the day before the prayer bells began to ring and fill the void inside of Paul with their vibration. His eardrum started to swing first. It passed the vibration to every part of his body and deeper into his mind and consciousness. The sound was fresh and sparkling, like the tickling feeling of a lighthearted laughter. This notion was so fresh and natural. Paul could not help but surrender even more to it than the day before. Obviously, this vibration had an uplifting and purifying effect. Did Karen not speak of the need of purification the other day? „Through music, we learn to purify our individual consciousness and our callous hearts and elevate our awareness and love to this subtlest of truths. We allow the creation of ahat nada, struck sound, a sound created by any instrument or human being on the material level of existence, to lead to the experience of the subtler anahat nada, unstruck sound, whose nature is divine vibration."

Paul heard her voice clearly, just as if she was now speaking to him. And he began to understand, what she had meant to tell him in this initial conversation. The ahat nada of the prayer bells was so sweet and gentle, he would never forget it. Anywhere in the world, wherever he would be in the near or far future, he would be able to recall the sound of these bells and its corresponding emotion. Paul realized one more thing: his life had always been much too ponderous, too burdened, driven and over-ambitions. It had been a heavy load of goal-orientation, self-discipline, and self-improvement. Yes, he had succeeded. For others – like Phil - his life looked admirable. But regarded from the point of view that had opened to Paul through the feeling of natural ease and relaxation stirred by the aarti bells, his life had been sad and constantly overstrained. He had lost the sheer joy of being because he had followed the path of achievement, which by its nature could bring only short rewards and short relaxation. And perhaps this was, what had hurt him the most about his divorce: he did not succeed in the important goal of loving and being loved.

Karen began to lead Paul back out of the deeper realms of consciousness. Paul was still elsewhere. She asked him to take a deep breath and open his eyes. Her voice hardly reached him. It took him quite a while to reconnect to his five senses and the perception of the material, outer world. He opened his eyes hesitantly. She sat on her chair, holding a steaming cup filled with hot coffee. The smell of the coffee was extraordinarily strong. Paul wrapped his body out of the tight blanket and got up to sit with her.

„Are you okay, Paul? What did you see?“

It was not easy for Paul to recall the messages of the subtler aspects of the mind.

„These bells..." He tried to find words for his experience. „These bells carry a fine, a light vibration. I have never felt as natural and easy. I have achieved a lot, but the constant need to become, to do, to grow, to succeed was a painful burden. I did not know that before I felt the emotions transmitted by the prayer bells." Once more Paul´s eyes filled with tears. „I begin to understand what you mean when you speak of sound and its mind-altering and purifying effect!”

She did not show any reaction. But her silence had a strong effect on him. It allowed him to relaxed, and accept his insights. He suddenly knew that they carried a long hidden truth. This realization was like a small awakening: the irreversible understanding that life could be different, life was different from what Paul had thought and lived.

Karen had made warm biscuits with salty butter. She casually dipped hers into the coffee. Paul tried the same and enjoyed the simple, but tasty breakfast. He was thankful for what seemed to become a morning ritual, the meditation and the breakfast at Karen Garin´s house.

„It´s strange. I have arrived only a few days ago, and I am beginning to feel at home now!“

She smiled. „It might sound very pathetic: my home is your home.“

They laughed together. Paul noticed that her nose showed cute little wrinkles on either side when she laughed.

„Will you come to Aparoksh´s birthday party tonight?“, she asked after a while.

„He invited me. Yes!“

„Let´s meet here at seven. You will have to take a driver from the hotel.“

„Do you have any idea, what I could give to him?“

„Bring your cello. We will play something.“

„But we have never played together.“

„That´s not exactly true, Paul. The sitar is an instrument for improvisation. We have done this together. The same thing we will do tonight.“

He nodded, again a little insecure.

„Wait till you see Aparoksh´s eyes. The famous Mister Paul plays only for him. I am sure he will cry.“

Her words were spoken with joy and empathy, without any ridicule. Paul tried to imagine the look on Aparoksh´s face. He could not wait to see his real reaction.

◊◊◊

In the evening the alleys of the old town were crowded and noisy. Paul´s driver could not get through the dense crowd. Paul had to walk the narrow lane to Karen Garin´s house. He pressed the cello close to his body for protection. Nervous and sweaty he reached his destination. Karen took her time to open the door.

„Are you ready to walk from here?“, she asked Paul in all seriousness.

„If I have to.“ He tried to put on a smile.

„It´s not too far, down by the burning ghats. Let´s go?“

„Let´s go!“ This time Paul smiled natural.

Karen locked the door several times and walked directly into the overcrowded street. „We can´t walk by the river because it´s the time of the evening aarti. People gather at the Ganga. Have you seen the fire ceremony?”

„No, not yet.“

„We have to go there before you leave. You will love it.”

She led quickly through more and more narrow lanes. Alone, Paul would have gotten lost immediately. Several times he was asked if he needed a porter for his cello. Always Karen appeared, saying something in Hindi, waggling her head.

„They think you are a tourist. Stay close to me."

Paul tried to keep up with her. Two cows stood in his way and he had to line in after her again. In the meantime, Paul had completely lost any sense of direction. He was sweating worse than before. He was short of breath, because of the crowds and the narrowness.

„We will pass the burning ghats soon. Stay close to me and don´t give any money to anybody. A lot of beggars are trying to make a fortune here.“

„Is that sweet smell from the burnings?“

„Yes, it is. Aparoksh´s father works here. He might not be at the party tonight.“

In the twilight, they reached an area that seemed to have fallen out of time. It looked ancient, medieval. Everything here was covered with reddish brown ashes. Wood was hugely piled all over the place. Groups of men sat on benches, chatting, smoking or just resting. Young lads played tag and ran after each other laughing. A caravan of singing people carrying a dead body wrapped in orange cloths, tied on a wooden barrow, passed them. Paul just stood there, frozen, amazed, shocked, disbelieving, fascinated, disgusted at the same time. He held his breath and felt strong nausea. Instinctively, he tried to cover his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, but then he felt faint, because of the lack of oxygen. Karen pulled his arm.

„Paul, come. You have to come now!“

He hardly heard her. Karen pushed him forward now, out of the reach of the ashes, the smoke, and the paralyzing atmosphere. Paul constantly turned back. When he caught sight of the fires burning down by the bank of the Ganges, he stopped again. Karen had to let him take his time. He counted six fires on different terraces, some burning with high flames, others only smoldering. High flames were rising above two corpses. Several dirty men kept the fires constantly alive with fresh wood and a stoking rod. They wore a turban, t-shirt, a loincloth. Without shoes, they walked around in the midst of the fires, the wood, the ashes, the dirt and the dead, between cows and dogs.

„Paul, are you okay?“ Karen´s voice came from far.

„I don´t know. I have never seen anything like this.“

„I am sorry. I did not know that this would get to you so much. Are you able to come now? Aparoksh is waiting for us.“

„Yes, we have to go...“

Paul forced himself to follow Karen and leave this place. But still, he had to turn his head and see, what he could not believe was real. Only then he noticed the peculiar sound that he heard: birds were singing eagerly and happily.

When they finally reached a small lane that led them away from the river and deeper into the old town Paul asked: „Did you hear the birds, Karen?"

She stopped and stared at him. „Which birds?“

„Down there at the cremation place. The birds were singing the most beautiful, cheerful song!“

She recalled the scene, and now – in her memory - she heard it, too. „Yes. I have never heard that before!“

Only two blocks further they had reached their destination, a shabby looking house squeezed into a row with countless of others that looked just as bedraggled. There was no door at the entrance. Paul had to make a large step over a rivulet of excreta following Karen into a dark corridor. The odor was strong and nauseating. Paul felt sorrow for Aparoksh and his life circumstances arising again. Nobody should live like that, he thought, trying to breathe less deep and cover his nose again obtrusively. Karen led him up a steep staircase with no lights and no handrail. Originally, there must have been colors on the walls, but now they were dirty, paint and plaster were chipped off. Paul could see the marks of innumerable dirty children´s hands overlapping each other. He heard laughter and screaming children from above. A minute later Aparoksh, still neatly dressed and smiling his beautiful smile, welcomed them at the door of an apartment on the third floor.