Only a Matter of Choice

We lived in the same village and her children were my friends. I came to know her when one of her sons told me that his mother has a garden of “Tulasi plant”.

 I went to her home and saw the garden of beautiful fully grown Tulasi. After that, once in a while, I  went to her place to collect  Tulasi's leaves and buds to offer to the Deity of Nitai-Gauranga. I can perceive her joy whenever I go to her house.  Understandably, she is aware that  my devotional service of offering the leaves of her Tulasi plants to the altar is also spiritually beneficial to her.  And indeed it was,  for not long that she joined her daughter, a devout religious practitioner, on her quest to know The Absolute Truth. She left her residence and lived with her in Worship Center; then later on, both of them got initiated by the Spiritual Master.

I remain, as I am, a Sunday devotee, still entangled with my passion, my obsession to music, and my elusive musical whims. I am happy for her, particularly when I heard about her initiation. I never thought that one can be spiritually advanced and got initiated in such a short period of time. In addition, watching her journey from hell to the holy land made me realized that I am not hopeless after all. Both of us are “Tulasi’s servants”, and if by being one, she found her way "home", there is a chance that I will also find my way. That it is only a matter of time and a matter of choice.

In the following years, we still see each other; not anymore in her house in the mountain where I used to collect Manjaris, but in temples, pavilions, and retreat centers where devotees congregate. It is always nice and joyful to see a friend and neighbor in far away places. Moreover, there is an additional happiness if you see him or her in auspicious places and you are aware that that neighbor friend is performing a pious activity. I can tell that she is also happy to see me in those congregation for it shows in her face. And in my assessment, I see that she is happy and fulfilled with her new life.

However, while I became so busy with my musical activity, I heard that she left the temple because she was seriously ill and was being taken care of by her daughter somewhere in the same City where I stayed more often. I am most of the time alone in a friend's two bedrooms apartment workshop where I primarily use to relax and recharge. Because at that time, I was the executive producer, singer, songwriter, and arranger of my own music recording; a gigantic task which usually left me physically, emotionally, and artistically drain after hours of recording sessions.

My own music album project was almost finished when my producer friend asked and tasked me to include his own composition in the album. My producer’s composition, despite of its simplicity, was not an easy song. It is a complicated musical piece with irregular meter and verses, coda and chorus. It dealt with the subject of life and death, making it a spiritually charged and complex. My task is to unite those elements of the song. I spent days and nights trying to find the missing link, the inspiration, the actual experience, the knowledge, the truth to make it happen. In my experience as a songwriter, in songwriting, one missing word or element is enough to turn a composition into a piece of junk.

I was in this predicament when she and her daughter arrived and occupied the available remaining bedroom of the house where I was staying at that time. (The bedrooms were located at the upper portion of that up and down apartment). And it happened so fast, as if she just passed by to say goodbye. Because they just moved-in in the afternoon, while I was so engrossed in my work and so detach with the world; and early in the morning the next day, when I was halfway at the stairs on my way down to the bathroom, I saw her lifeless body lying in the receiving room in her daughter’s loving arms.

I still remember, there was no, not even a tinge of, sadness in the area where she left her body. And as if crystal blowing bubbles were everywhere in celebration for her triumph. I saw no angels, but I it seems like at that time I was in a different dimension. And as if in that dimension is where I belong. And although I never experience such occurrence before (nor after) in this lifetime. The feeling was more than neither joy nor bliss. I can't think of any words that could describe it. All I know is that my whole world stopped for a moment, I don't even tried to figure out what was happening. Maybe there were actually angels present, maybe my eyes were unfit  to see them, nonetheless, I was allowed to perceive them by my heart.  -KALI-91111

                

The Song

NOTE:Bob Dylan mentioned that his song “Like a Rolling Stone” was written for him by a supernatural being."It's like a ghost is writing a song like that, it gives you the song and it goes away. You don't know what it means. Except that the ghost picked me to write the song." 

Understandably, without much difficulty, I finished the song and later on the album.

(In India, 3 0’clock and 4 o’clock in the morning (Brahma Bhuta) is considered an auspicious hour. This is the time she died or left her body for “the soul has no beginning nor an end”.)