Providence Returns

(Above from left: Shubi, Roopa and Simran)

After my first day in Mumbai I was exhausted still feeling the lingering effects of the time difference and from the heat and the energy expended sitting in traffic for 4+ hours. It was comforting to know that I was returning to my air conditioned room at Bharat’s bungalow oasis amidst the surrounding tall apartment buildings and active, if not chaotic street hustle and bustle. It was 8:30 p.m. before we pulled into the gated courtyard, again in the mint green Peugot and it was approximately an hour before dinner, just enough time to exhale and wash the road dust, dirt and pollution off of my sticky skin.

Bharat and I had a drink on the patio as we sat on his bench swing under an electric fan and discussed my future travel plans. Again his generosity was flowing as he helped me determine the best places to visit and when and how to get there. I set my travel plans for Kerala (a southern state), then Rajasthan, Delhi, Varanasi and Rishikesh. Earlier in the day I considered the reasons I had come to India. Was India going to be different in some way from other countries I had visited? I had heard many stories of mystical India, but sitting in traffic in Mumbai for hours upon hours had lost its mysticism with me. Maybe India was going to be more of a sight seeing trip than I had planned.

Dinner was served by the same crew of men I had seen preparing the meal the previous night. It was another stellar meal with at least five separate dishes, none of which I can pronounce, but all of which I ate voraciously as my second meal of the day. You could have called it poison oak and I would have buried my scooped it up with my hand without hesitation. And yes, I said hand, as it is common in India to eat with your hands, actually just your right hand as the left hand is reserved for more unsavory tasks (insert imagination here).

We finished our meal and a milky white mochi like dough ball was served for dessert. Sure, it wasn’t chocolate, but it soothed the savage sweet tooth. Conversation at dinner had waned and I was preparing to retire to my air conditioned room to decompress. But unbeknown to me (I’m usually the last to know), there was another plan in store for my evening.

The dining room was quiet enough to hear a spoon drop when from out of nowhere, Roopa swooned into the room filling it with vibrant, electric energy. Although Bharat introduced us, I barely caught her name in my distraction from her energetic entrance and contagious smile. She took a seat at my side of the round burgundy and white marbled dining table. Immediately she started in on me, “Why are you here in India?” Hearing her question reminded me of my own similar question earlier in the day, “Why am I here?”

For one of the rarer occasions in my life, I paused to find a deeper answer than, “to see the Taj Mahal” or “to eat real Indian food”. And then I decided to let the cat out of the proverbial bag, “I want to explore the spiritual side of India.” Roopa’s face, already aglow, lit up another shade and immediately we had a connection. She had just returned from Bangalore at a 3 day world conference on human values and spirituality attended by dignitaries, priests, swamis, rabbis, heads of state and a symphony of 3,800 musicians from around the world. Fresh from this experience she was eager to give me the download.

We chatted at the table for at least an hour, although I couldn’t tell you how long as time was without a seat at the table. I explained that on the night before leaving the U.S., I had returned to my book collection tucked away in a bookcase I rarely opened and pulled from the shelves a book whose pages I had not cracked for more than a decade. “Oh, I am big fan of Paramahansa Yogananda”, she exclaimed with great enthusiasm. That was the moment. By the “moment”, I mean the moment when you are on a path that has multiple routes ahead, some of which you are aware and others still flying below the radar of consciousness, and something which you had not foreseen clicks.

Having lost my wallet the night before I departed, moving my bedroom belongings to another room for friends that would use my bedroom while I was traveling, and in between phone calls to cancel credit cards and say goodbye to family and friends, the book, “The Autobiography of a Yogi” by Paramahansa Yogandanda came to mind as worthy of being toted along on my back for the journey. Now, my recent reading of the book and the very mention of it had cracked a certain spiritual code.

Roopa Gupta is the wife of Bharat and mother of two daughters, Simran and Shubmayee (“Shubi”). Roopa is a cancer survivor having undergone surgery, chemotherapy and 33 radiation treatments. Just listening to the short version of her fight to live zapped my energy, but it seemed to give Roopa more energy. If it had any effect on Roopa’s outlook, it confirmed her conviction to live in the Now. Her smile went from cheek to cheek as her dark eyes shone a sparkle. And upon learning of my interest in spirituality, I was about to become a fast study in Hinduism, spirituality, gurus, pulse readers and other alternative forms of faith.

Before the air waves could settle from our post dinner conversation, she phoned her younger brother, Minta, telling him that we were coming to his home to discuss my travel plans. Minta is a much sought after Hindi film camera man who has traveled the world filming many of the 400 films per year turned out by Bollywood. 11:30 at night and we presented ourselves at Minta’s door. Clearly he was tired as he had worked all day and was preparing for a family camping trip to Hampi and Goa the following morning. That did not phase Roopa’s resolve. In fact, it may have been her energy alone that kept Minta from saying “no” to her invitation to his home.
Again with wonderful generosity, Minta and his wife began pulling out books and maps to discuss the various areas of interest in the country. Some hours later, we were saying goodbye having overhauled my itinerary to fit with a different flow. Exhausted, yet internally energized I returned home courtesy of Roopa’s driver. Showering was desired, but the draw to sleep was stronger.