A dried pumpkin basin

Chapter 2   A dried pumpkin basin

Mike walked. It seems that that's all he had been doing the past year.

There was however a curios sensation that built up in his body from the daily walking. It created a pace, with which a man may measure the speed of one's thoughts. It allowed for the observation of the thought and it encouraged the individual to bring a little of himself in the expression of it.

Mike missed that. Yes, he had messed up on his social outlook, but he thought he had compensated for it by shaving another two seconds with his reload on the ruger automatic. Less clutter.

But here he was, walking on roads without pavement, past rickety wooden shacks that looked like tinder for burning, thinking of dreams and the gall it takes to achieve them.

A young boy of about twelve waved at Mike from outside his doorstep and smiled. Mike waved back.

The culture in the place favored the notion that to feed a mendicant was to please god and assured them a place in heaven. In some houses, they offered food, uncooked rice and always with a smile, as if they were pleased to be able to serve a man in search for knowledge.

He left the road and walked up to a makeshift bench under a cherry tree. Next to it, a barber had set up practice and was busy snipping away at a customer who dozed on the rattan chair. He nodded at Mike. Mike nodded back. They always nod at the appearance of a holy man.

Mike took out a book he had been reading on zen Buddhism and parted the page at the bookmark. As he adjusted his seat, he was reminded of how Neela trained him to sit. He sat without moving for twenty minutes the first day, then slowly increased it to an hour over the course of two weeks.

“Learning to sit,” he whispered under his breath, as he came to focus on the line in the page that he had left off. He reassured himself with a quick touch to his back to confirm that the commando dagger was there, then leaned back and continued.

Neela carried the blue plastic basket and walked the length of about two kilometers to the market. In this section of the city where the hotel was, the shop houses were of plastered brick. Some grocery shops, coffee shops, restaurants and the occasional hair saloon loomed over the road with random bicycles, motorcycles and the infrequent car.

He didn't like Srinagar very much. His complaint carried him back to the way the houses in his village set themselves into the landscape with the feeling that each brick, stone and roof was precisely where it should be in relation to the rock cropping, the boulders, trees and the distant mountains. It was a feeling that someone lived there.

Still Neela figured, it was better than New Delhi. In Muslim Kashmir, he wasn't fighting a social majority of Hindus, whose carefully crafted skills at learning the art of their practices, appeared foreboding to Neela and his improvised learning skills that relied on daily living, but no method.

In Mike, Neela came to encounter an honesty unlike anything he had seen before. Mike didn't make a choice to be honest. He simply spoke his mind.

Neela, in the Asian experience found the articulation of Mike's communication, a wonder in the art of expression. Mike articulation of his experiences engaged three parts of himself that he had labeled as mother, father and child. In communicating himself with Neela, he took the role of father, while Neela came to take the role of child. The world in their experience was experienced as mother.

Mike led the initiative on issues, from an apparent source in his system that had organized itself as the innamorata. It earned its right to lead by being inventive, enthusiastic and of equal consideration in all issues. It was a role set to command where it was.

He shared the experience with Neela, each taking the opportunity to play each role in a way to optimize the issues they were discussing. It was dynamic, open minded and bold. Neela had felt invigorated.

At the market, Neela bought steak. Mike had mentioned at dinner that steak requires strong digestive activity and that it acts in turn on the mind as a powerful drive. Neela had taken up the advice and found himself growing stronger, both in mind and in his physical responsiveness to activity.

It was Neela's greatest commitment to the path of understanding that he had taken. It brought to him the practice of reason to religious practice, in the way that one individual would make the decision as regards himself and his beliefs.

Mike put his book in the bag he carried, swung it over his shoulder and began the rounds from house to house. He carried a dried pumpkin basin with him as the means to receive the alms.

He knocked on the first door. A lady opened it. He spoke the words “Namaste, may Siva bless you and your family.” Then he extended the basin.

She went back into the house and returned with a can filled to the brim with rice. She tipped the can into his basin.

Mike thanked her and continued to the next house, and then to the next.

It had occurred to him that this was not an attempt at survival. It was a training in real life to

bring into social application, one's intelligence in promoting social cohesion. It was a play, that made certain vague references at control and professional self regulation.

Neela had been right about the last six months. Mike was starting to feel a mounting resentment at attempts to continue to remake himself for a cause. Something in the nature of a narcissistic self will stood in his way. It stroked his fires.

He wondered about traveling to the end of the line to meet the wizard. It appeared that all manner of new possibilities awaited him.

Reviews

[patricia]

This was fantastic, i thought i was in heaven half-way through, forgive my over enthusiasm i tend to wear my heart on my sleeve when i find these kind of works, looks like i have another for my library here, since each chapter holds so much, i hope i live long enough to discover the essence in this rich and very useful wisdom. Thankyou.