Authors: Richard Brumer
“Yes, it is an Indian way of being kind and caring, sir. They see you are sad and help make you feel good.”
“Yeah, well…I make calls to nightclubs and record companies every day. Things are not done easily by phone here.”
“That is true, but you will find him. He is your child. Please, it would be a good thing. You must look in Bombay. There is much music there.”
“Bombay, yes.”
Rick’s mobile rang. Permanand told him that his sick cousin was better. They made a plan to meet at the colonel’s house in a few days. It would be good to see his smiling face again.
Rick bought a ticket to get into the Taj, but there was already a long line of ticket holders waiting to get in. The queue consisted of many nationalities, but mostly Indians. When Rick bought a ticket to get into the Taj, he saw a long line of ticket holders already waiting. The man selling the ticket told Rick he would have to wait in line at least two hours before he would get in.
Rick looked around and saw a young Indian man about thirty years old who was trying to get the attention of people in line. He looked like a person who could get someone in a lot faster for some solid
baksheesh
.
“Two hundred rupees, kind sir, and you will be inside in a moment,” he said.
“Never,” Rick said adamantly. “Fifty rupees and that’s it, and I pay you after I’m inside.”
He quickly agreed, which made Rick think even that was too much. He walked Rick to the front of the line and said a few words to a police officer who waved him in. Rick paid with two twenty rupee notes, the equivalent of an American dollar.
Rick walked down a narrow path into a large plaza with an archway at one end. He looked through the arch and saw his first clear view of the Taj Mahal. There it was, in all its blazing glory, sitting majestically in the sunlight.
His excitement mounted and he couldn’t wait to get closer. He walked slowly toward the image he had held in his mind since childhood. It was now a dream come true, something real and tangible. As he walked, the Taj became larger until it filled his eyes.
Rick explored every inch of its magnificence. If the Taj had eyes, it would see throngs of people flashing their cameras and feel the light touch of birds landing on it, along with people’s fingertips brushing against its sun kissed, shimmering white marble. The Taj knew its secrets of love and mystery, which might be quite different from the stories told by the guides or written in books.
Only the language of poetry could describe the essence of the Taj Mahal as a
teardrop on the face of eternity,
a testimonial to true and everlasting love. Rick couldn’t take his eyes off this magnificent wonder of the world. He followed one bird circling in the air until it gently landed on the large marble dome. The black bird snapped its head erratically from side to side as if it were looking at all the people below.
Does that bird know where he is? Does he know he is at the Taj Mahal?
***
Later that night, Rick walked down a quiet, dark dirt road near the colonel’s house that led to some distant streetlights. He looked up at a full moon and a sky full of blinking stars, the same full moon and stars that was shining down on the Taj just minutes away. He felt guilty about visiting the Taj. Every time he stopped to gaze at the splendid sights in India, he was sidetracked from his mission.
Rick lost hope during the walk. He became disheartened and reflected on the futility of his search. He had so little to go on and thought he would end up with nothing more than a collection of dead ends. He imagined Julie at his side, searching with him, and that fortified his resolve to persevere.
Instinctively, Rick felt that learning about India, its culture, and its history would enhance his search for Eric. Telling the story about his quest to others could invite new suggestions or directions.
He thought about Julie and how much she would love the landscape of India and its people. She was sensitive and caring, like most Indian people.
Rick met Colonel Malhotra for their last breakfast together before leaving Agra.
“I’m going to miss you, Colonel. You’re a special person. You’ve helped me view the world in the abstract and made difficult concepts clear to me. Many of my friends are concrete thinkers. They see a chair and it’s a chair and that’s that, but I’m here to find my son and I have to be more pragmatic.”
“Yes, there are times we must all be practical, but think of abstract thinking as
critical thinking
. It takes practice, but it will develop your mind so you will find pathways to your son. Almost every problem has a solution.
“Before you shift to Jaipur, think about it. One last lesson before we part ways. Your friend may see a chair and to him it is a chair and nothing more than a place to sit. That is concrete, but maybe
it is
more than what appears and has its secrets locked within.”
“Not a chair?” Rick asked.
“Imagine this. If you knew everything there was to know about one object, then you would know all there is about any object in the world.”
“Everything about the chair?”
“Not just the chair, Rick, but any object in the world. Examine the object. If it is a chair, it may be made of wood, maybe with leather seats and metal studs. Wood is from a living thing, leather too, and metals are mined. They all have chemical formulas, plus a chair has design and purpose, which relate to the input of humans. All these elements take you to new paths of understanding and allow you to see the larger picture.
“That will help you find your son. You must meet and talk to as many Indian people as you can. Someone will give you a lead to your son.”
“You have a unique viewpoint about things. You’re right, a chair is simple, but it has atoms, nuclei, electrons, space, water, shape, purpose. All of that is true, and it’s created by humans, so the chair represents a blend of human interaction with an object.”
“A very good observation. Especially cars,” the colonel replied. “Think of it. The mechanics, the electrics, the materials to make a car, add the idea of colors, the paint, and its connection with the driver. Many lifetimes could be spent with only a motor car in mind.”
“And, yes, you’re right. The more complex the object, the easier it is to find pathways to greater depths of understanding because of its multifaceted nature. I trust you, sir, but I have trouble putting these thoughts together to help me find Eric.”
“I understand your dilemma. Put it in your mind that you trust the things I say. Knowledge is the result of thought. It is all about our minds. Carry that away with you. God has placed this masterpiece within us.
“If you know everything about one thing, you know the universe. What I described was about objects, but there are other avenues of thought. Think of other questions. What is a flame? What is time? It will all sharpen your mind.”
“You are amazing, Colonel Malhotra. I’ll never look at a chair the same way again.”
Rick believed him and trusted him. He took one last look at the colonel. He had the appearance of a man who knew everything about life—and chairs!
***
Rick had pre-arranged to meet one of his closest Indian-American friends, Lalit, in Jaipur. In many ways, Lalit’s thinking and sense of spirituality was similar to the colonel’s, although he was not a Sikh. He was a Jain, an ancient religion whose core belief was to conquer all temptations.
Lalit knew the story of Rick and Julie and their baby. At a dinner party back in the States, Rick told Lalit that Julie had died and there was a chance he could find his son in India. Lalit turned to him, put his hands on his shoulders, and spoke in a low voice. “You are a caring and sensitive person,” he said, “It is meant for you to go to India. The country will embrace you, and the people will help you find your son. Come to Jaipur. I will meet you there.”
Rick called Lalit from Agra and took a bus to Jaipur. It was a people’s bus, hot and crowded. Those who had seats sat crunched against each other while the other passengers stood in the narrow aisle with their luggage, committed to the five-hour ride on their feet.
Rick had a seat near the window. The glass was yellowed, scratched, and clouded over with dirt and pollution, but it still left some view of the streets. Rick spotted a food cart with cooked meat hanging on hooks, covered with flies in the shimmering heat. The vendor brushed away the flies, sliced the meat, and put it inside chapatis as his customers lined up for lunch. Rick shook his head, his stomach turning.
When the bus arrived in Jaipur, Rick made his way down the few steps to get off. Lalit saw him struggling with his backpack and came to his aid. They hugged and looked into each other’s smiling faces.
“Rick, so good to see you!”
Within minutes, they were having a delicious vegetarian lunch at a wonderful restaurant within walking distance of the station.
There is only one Lalit.
He was a caring, intelligent man who had his own interesting spin on life. Rick asked Lalit how he should go about finding Eric.
“You must go to Bombay. You must do this. It is good what you did in Delhi and Agra, but you must continue on your path.”
“I have Bombay on my list, for sure. I’m just trying to find him in a methodical way.”
“It is a good thing,” Lalit said, sopping up his vegetable curry with chapati bread. “Because you are here in India, you will find him. You cannot go to agencies. People here are compassionate and understanding. They will help you, especially when they learn you are looking for your child. I will only be in Jaipur two days more. I have to spend time with my daughter. She is thirty-four and yet unmarried and it is shameful to our family. I have placed many ads in the newspapers looking for a nice boy. Someone answered, so I want to be at her side in the event she needs my advice.”
“I understand arranged marriages work out well here.”
“It is the best way. My marriage was arranged and most of my friends were as well. My daughter is well-educated and I have supplied her with a first-class dowry.”
“I wish you luck, my friend. I think everything will work out well in the end.”
“For you as well, Rick.”
After lunch, Lalit introduced Rick to the sights of Jaipur. Most of the buildings were painted pink, which gave the architecture a distinctive appearance. Rick found the design of a Hindu temple striking, a mixture of modern and ancient, and he asked Lalit if they could visit.
“Yes, of course. We will go there no later than seven tonight. There will be a special surprise waiting for you if we could be there at exactly that time.”
“A surprise? What?”
“You will be pleasantly amazed by what will take place, but first let me give you a further taste of my city,” he said in a soothing voice.
Lalit explained that Jaipur was a fascinating city, much cleaner than Delhi. It had an energy of its own, and, like other big cities, its own differences. Jaipur was the capitol of the state of Rajasthan, which is mostly desert. Many of the women showed a distinct preference for bright clothing when they worked in the fields, adding a dash of color and life to this otherwise barren terrain. The patches of brightly colored saris—reds, dazzling yellows, lively greens, and brilliant oranges—punctuated the landscape, bringing it to life.
***
Later that night, Rick and Lalit arrived at the temple at six forty-five. There were only a few people standing inside. Many more stood outside.
“How old is this temple, Lalit? It doesn’t look old.”
“It is not old. It was built of the purest marble in 1988 and is a blend of architectures of different times. Look at the ceiling and tell me what you see.”
“I see some sculptures that look like flowers.”
“Yes, they are lotus blossoms carved from a single piece of marble, and look at the stained glass windows all around you. They are so dramatic and so beautiful.”
They were, indeed, beautiful. Rick looked at his watch. It was five minutes to seven and still only a handful of people were inside.
“Stand in the front,” Lalit said. “Just behind the red velvet ropes.”
Rick moved behind the velvet rope and turned around. It was three minutes to seven. A few more people entered the temple. Lalit leaned toward him and whispered, “This temple is dedicated to Lord Vishnu. Lakshmi is his consort, a female with four arms and four hands. You will see her colorful statue. She wears red clothes with gold lining, sits on a lotus flower, and has gold coins in her hands.”
Rick wasn’t sure why Lalit waited until the last minute to tell him these things, but at least it gave him some understanding of what was yet to come.
Within one minute, the small temple was overflowing with people. The red curtain sprang open and the excitement began.
In the center of the small stage was a statue of Lakshmi. Her appearance matched Lalit’s description. Two men leaped onto the stage in white cotton clothing with large bass drums, beating on them loudly. The beats were so dramatic that they resounded in Rick’s ears. He was so close to the action. Then the drummers threw their drumsticks back and forth to each other with amazing precision while another man with a flaming torch began to slowly dance around the statue of Lakshmi.
One of th men stopped, lowered the flame down his throat, and blew out fire. Flashing lights and the loud sound of the drums surrounded Lakshmi, who was draped in a red sari. Her lips and cheeks were painted bright red. She sat on a lotus flower with a pot in one of her four hands, surrounded by statues of white elephants.
The excitement continued dramatically. The man’s torch soon turned into dark smoke that trailed behind him as he danced around Lakshmi.
Another man appeared and picked up large brass cymbals. He clashed them over and over again, accompanying the loud bangs on the bass drum as he danced around Lakshmi, faster and faster. Rick was mesmerized by what was going on in front of him and was immersed in every movement that took place on the small stage. It was a magnificent surprise for him, indeed.
At the end, Rick was speechless and quiet for a long time, touched to the point that he couldn’t speak. Lalit’s small smile and bright eyes hinted that he was aware of Rick’s feelings about the performance that had just transpired.
Lalit had seen the event many times. Rick asked him why two of Lakshmi’s four arms were raised.
“They were raised to bless you, Rick. She is the goddess of wealth, fortune, beauty, luxury, power, and fertility.”
Rick did feel blessed. Another side of life had presented itself and triggered questions in him about his beliefs. There was still a space in his thinking, a place he had once known when he was young, but forgot.