Breakfast Guest (Short Story)

Breakfast Guest

“Subbulu, they’re all gone. The almost semi-ripe tomatoes, the tender stalks, and some of your wildflower plants. It has torn them all during the early morning. I thought we’ve changed its behavior, dissuaded it from encroaching into our vegetable and flower garden.” I almost felt like shrieking but what’s the point now? 

“What happened dear? Are the rose bushes ok?” 

“Luckily the roses seem alright. We have to put physical barrier for ‘em too. They are full of buds, so better watch out.” If any bark seems ripped from a bush, it is a sign of the deer from the nearby woods and local park (green space). If things close to the ground get munched, then it is due to the chipmunks, squirrels, or cottontails. Fortunately this season there is an abundance of walnuts, acorns, and maple seeds. So most of the squirrels are after chasing the nuts, gnawing at them, leaving half eaten nuts on the ground and playing with their mates. The chipmunks are rather strange – you never what catches their fancy. This year they are after the marigold buds and flowers. After a bit of head scratching, I installed some thorny branches in the marigold pots, just to give them slight discomfort while they are engrossed in their hearty meals of tender flowers. That saved the day and we are fortunate to have plenty of colorful fragrant fresh flowers for our daily puja and for the local Narayana temple. 

After a rather disappointing morning, I flowed through the daily routine and retired. Both of us thought about a permanent solution to the deer menace and the hungry rabbits especially during the spring. It happens in harsh winters too when the entire land is filled with several feet of snow; the hungry cervids nibble the tender rhododendron shoots and dormant flower buds, pull the bark of burning bushes and maple trees. As a rule you are not to go to sleep with a thought on your mind; that means the day’s homework is not completed, the books not properly balanced (closed). Otherwise the mind goes into an overdrive to finish the lingering thoughts and resolve the loose ends. Slowly I dozed off and fell into a trance.

“I see a slight discomposure on your face today. May I help, dear?”

I felt awkward, but the Guru knows everything. Yet he (He) tries to remain beyond the powerful maya. Like a gentle friend he would not intrude into our thoughts or house unnecessarily. 

“It is trifling really, I should’ve understood it, solved it, and done with it immediately”

“Yes, you are capable. You are well read, discriminating, I would even say a jnani.”

“It is just a pesky deer, so I thought in the beginning. But it is more than that as I see it now.”

“Yes, I know it all. Do you remember? Once you so desperately wanted to offer clean home made food to an orthodox Brahmin on a holy day; perhaps to mark your gratitude to the departed parents. But in this day and age, where would you find an observant Brahmin? If it were impossible for Umacharan in the nineteenth century in Kasi, would it be easy today in a remote Finger Lakes corner? I sensed your predicament and kindly watched the events. Some day your wish would be fulfilled promptly, so I thought. But even I got surprised by the turn of events today, that too in the wee hours.”

“To day morning I got a jolt looking at the ravaged hand grown tomato plants. It took a while to sooth my ruffled feelings.”

“Though you know many things, it is often very difficult to let go off the last vestiges of ego. I wouldn’t put it crudely as ego; it is more like this feeling of touch or pulse. Obviously it’s there for a purpose – it is to protect the physical body and mind from injury. But excessively limiting the ‘consciousness’ to the earthly body can work havoc.

So you are not angry for the loss of a few dollars worth of tomatoes. Now during the growing season, you can get them at the farmers market at a fair price. Nor are you upset about someone robbing your fruit without rightfully paying for it. After all, you’ve received countless acts of generosity from many humans, animals, and even plants. Your grandmother healed your childhood fevers with gunta-kalaraku. You must have benefited immensely from the village Ayurvedic doctors, teachers, and well-wishers. After all one cannot say all those do-gooders got compensated fully. So life is like that, you gain some and you give some. On a really philosophical plane, this observation is true: You are here on the earth only as limited rights tenant. You do not own anything, although you may have a bank account and other properties.  The sooner one absorbs this eternal truth, the better life will be. 

But coming to the microscopic issue of tomatoes, the gardener can only take a part of the credit. Credit must also be given to the farmer who gifted you quality cow manure, the bees, the earthworms and microorganisms of the soil, and of course the most important of all – the benevolent Sun who tirelessly insolates this heavenly earth. No we cannot usurp others’ contribution. No, you know very well as a student of science we cannot take credit for our brains or body. They’re just handed down to us by our parents (ancestors). The ancestors tirelessly struggled through thick and thin, through draughts and downpours, and survived and bestowed us almost defect free genes. Who would do that in the modern world? Will any corporation do it for less? Will any test tube company sell you such excellent genes? Or, any government agency? No, period - as they say here.

Now, let us come to the finer points, the subtle lessons here. What’s the use of reading tomes of scriptural texts? That too, the reading gets muddied through and gets diluted and distorted through umpteen unfaithful translations from the (Sanskrit) originals. It is akin to wallowing in the murky muddy waters without ever smelling the nearby superbly fragrant lotus. People keep on talking endlessly about Vedas, Upanishads, and Jnana Yoga, etc. But practicing one single precept is enough: Speak truth – truth as enunciated in the original scriptures or elaborated by any guru like Sankara. Never hurt any being, tree, or part of nature. Always support and help life on the earth."

“Yes, Sir. You are so right. I never thought my Guru would come down to this level to instruct me so gently and so lovingly. I feel so lucky to deserve your benediction and protection. Now you’ve explained the gist of Isopanishad so succinctly. I simply bow in reverence and pay my gratitude in silence.” Copyright 2025 by the author

  

An Exceptional Maha-Sivaratri

An Exceptional Maha-Sivaratri

I thought of sharing some old time stories with young children, who are the spark and promise of next generation. Somewhere, either in India or abroad in a remote place in Africa or Australia, there may be a child curious about the traditional Hindu festivals. That youngster may have access only to Internet, perhaps in a school, library or (neighbor’s) house. In certain places, there may not be even a Hindu temple nearby. How to encourage such a child’s imagination, confidence, and knowledge about Hindu traditions? Though many urban (I mean Indian city dwelling) children have access to plethora of TV channels, they too lack the good fortune of earlier generations – i.e., close kinship with grand parents, elder uncles, and aunts. So, without a single color photo, I try to depict a Sivaratri night, as it happened once.

Numerous stories, books, and songs adorn the Hindu religion. In principle, one can start from any single work (Ramayana, Mahabharata, Srimad-Bhagavatam, or a devotional song) and initiate an innocent enquiry in earnest. My own understanding (very infinitesimal, at best) mostly originated from my family, school lessons, college texts, temples, and free public discourses. Sivaratri is celebrated in our family, in many ways. Our parents used to go to Srisailam (AP) just for that one auspicious night. Looking back, I really envy my parents and grand parents. They had strong motivations and great endurance; they could bear enormous difficulties and make trips to Varanasi, Rameswaram, Kalahasti, Annavaram, or Puri on a shoestring budget. They used to cook meals on the way without ever stepping into a diner. 

With finals in April, February or March is usually a busy month for all studious kids in Andhra Pradesh. In high school days, I used to join my mother in the festival observance, with a prayer and fasting. Mother would indulge me with her unbounded affections, so she would keep plenty of fresh bananas, guava, and sweets like rava laddu or chalimidi for me for this special day. One year I came home during February from university. I was reading about Aurobindo then. How did it occur to me? What triggered that unique journey to Mummidivaram village? I cannot recall now. Of course, many in the Godavari district(s) were aware that Sivaratri was a special day for one small village. A saint, known to many as Balayogi (not to be confused with a later day politician), had gone into silent meditation several decades back. Only on Sivaratri night, visitors were allowed to go near and watch him in total silence. I sought my father’s permission for the short trip. We were living just twenty miles away from the village. Sivaratri, being a very dear day for father, he readily agreed.

I believe I started around 3:00 p.m. from home. There were frequent buses between Narasapuram and Doddipatla. Probably I bought two bananas on the way. I boarded the red yellow RTC bus and soon landed almost near the bank of Godavari (Doddipatla revu/wharf). Back in the village, my mother had to struggle hard to make our coconut trees productive, bear fruits; she had to pamper them with fertilizer, salt, mulch, etc. But here, right next to Godavari waters, these stately trees with their outstretched necks to heaven were so happy with head loads of fruits. And why would they not be happy? Every day they get fresh coastal breeze and every night they sleep listening to sweet lullabies from the river water. That is why, coastal Andhra coconuts contain such delicate sweet (coconut) water - the inner creamy coconut so, so delicious.

I got into a small sailboat and crossed the river. Crossing Godavari, Krishna, or Ganges – the act itself is purifying. Mother used to offer marigolds, ganneru (Oleander) and copper coins every time we crossed Godavari in a train. I sat close to the side, with my hand touching the waves. On land it would have been a bit hotter in the afternoon sun, but on the river, it was cool with gentle breeze. I felt the pleasant rhythmic oscillations of waves. Upon landing, I walked up to the bus stop and boarded another RTC bus towards Amalapuram. It was only a standing room for most of the journey; it did not bother me, as it was a short half an hour ride. 

I expected a large crowd at Mummidivaram. As I was reaching the small temple precincts, I could feel people gathering all around, the crowd getting bigger. There were two or three tourist buses from Tamilnadu parked in the grounds. It was in the middle of vacant rice fields. The local collector used to keep the building open on Sivaratri day for visitors and then the temple was closed (doors locked with seals) for the entire year, with Balayogi(s) inside. I cannot stay without meal for six hours, how can anyone stay years without bath, food, or rest? That too in just one yoga-asana? Prior to joining the queue, I washed my face, hands, and feet. I fasted that night, skipping supper. We had to walk through empty rice fields in long lines before we could get a glimpse of the elder Balayogi. I now apologize, after all these years, to the local farmers for trampling their fields. I think I got into the line around 9 p.m. Many in the line were very quiet with folded hands, we were just thinking about Siva and the yogi. For some reason, I felt a bit feverish while standing in line for hours. There was nothing to hold on to, no bench to sit either. Just a rope, perhaps, to guide the line. I had heard about the place and the saint earlier, but it was the first time seeing anyone anywhere in such a long uninterrupted meditation. Around two in the early morning, suddenly there was a brief cool shower. All of us got wet, but no one, not a single person moved from the line. We had no umbrellas. We just endured for our ‘darshan’. 

Soon, we were right in front of a peaceful embodiment of purity and absolute silence. They, the guards, had warned us earlier: be absolutely calm and no talk in the presence of Balayogi. Once our crawling queue abruptly came to a standstill. Later we came to understand why it had happened. The saint had just exhibited annoyance, no, not by speech or stern looks. No, he moved slightly, a small jerking motion, his body had felt some external disturbance.  The presence of a large crowd, I guessed. A sudden perturbation in a pond of silence!  He was extremely sensitive. Only after half an hour of patient waiting and peace, only then, the guards let the line move again. There were no cameras, no flashes, and no microphones. (to be contd.) Copyright 2010 by the author