Shambhala (8 page)

Entering the jungle, Bahi’s mind swirls, trying to grasp the lessons of the Baba. Realizing he does not have a clue where to start his journey, he turns back to ask, but the Baba is gone. The cave and garden are all gone. All that is there is the vast jungle, overgrown as if there were no cave, no garden, no Baba. His heart thumps as a bolt of anxiety sinks into his stomach.

“Go North, follow the path North, follow your heart, contemplate existence, and you will find your way to Shambhala. When all else fails, stay northward toward the high mountains,” the Baba’s words echo softly in his mind.

Bahi stops and notices three trails ahead, one lit up by the rising sun.
This must be East
. Bahi remembers.
The sun rises in the east
.

Looking left, Bahi sees there is another trail. He thinks,
If this is East, then this trail must lead North
. And with confidence he starts toward the northward trail. His sandals rustle the rocky path below his feet as the sun warms his body from the East. Placing the rice grain deep down into his right pocket, he notices butterflies meandering about the jungle and smiles remembering Kamini. He vows inwardly to find Shambhala for Kamini, for Bandar, and for all the beings of this Earth—for liberation.

He steps onto the dusty path and breathes in the morning air. Contemplating the words of the Baba, he thinks about his body as he looks at the trees that line his path
. I am here, they are there, surely this is I
, he thinks.

The path is straight, with a slight, persistent, incline that goes on a distance beyond sight. Walking upward for quite some time, he sits to rest for a moment. Taking off his sandals, he rubs his feet. It has been awhile since his breakfast, and his stomach feels empty. Remembering the rice given by the Baba, he thinks it’s best if he waits until dusk. This way he can save a bit for morning. He hears the melody of soft, running water not too far off the trail. He puts his sandals back on and follows the soothing sounds of flowing water. His hair is dry and straw like from the arid mountain air. His mouth feels like the dust he kicks up as he nears the water. Squatting down, he scoops up two handfuls of water and slurps them into his mouth as the rest runs down his chest, wetting his shirt and pants. The water in the stream rambles South over a chorus of brownish rock lit by high-noon sun. Smelling his body, he takes off his clothes and bathes in the shallows. The cold stream invigorates him as the sun shines down upon him. Sitting naked in the middle of the stream, face warmed in the sun, he washes his body. He wets his hair, and several strands break off into his hands from the dryness that has been inflicted on them. Bahi next dips his face into the cool stream and gulps the refreshing water before standing up. As the water flows through his legs, he looks around at the trees and bushes that line the stream. A sense of freedom comes over him as he walks off to the edge of the streambed, where he sits, drying in the sun and gentle breeze before putting on his clothes and proceeding back to the path. Walking again for several hours, he thankfully thinks of how this path is seemingly less dangerous and murky than the one leading to the Baba.

Monkeys scurry past overhead, dropping remnants of sticks that fall down onto Bahi’s head. He realizes the sun will soon set and wonders where he might find shelter from the night. Sitting upon an opening in the trail, a tree hangs down, spreading its lanky, straight branches like an umbrella over Bahi. He reaches deep into his pocket and pulls out the small brown grain of rice, and looks at it. He wonders how this small grain will become food. This leads him to ponder all the unfathomable things he has witnessed on his journey so far. He laughs and smashes the grain on a rock with his hand. Lifting up his palm, he sees the grain is still there: just a single grain of brown rice on a slate rock. He stares befuddled.
Perhaps this is a lesson in itself from the Baba
, he thinks, hoping he is wrong. The grain begins to slowly wiggle on the rock, and with a pop bursts into the air, dropping down a vast feast before his astounded eyes: rolls; ripe fruits; hot, steaming tea; and freshly cooked noodles. Bahi laughs hysterically, dancing foolishly around the food in astonishment. Sitting back down in disbelief at this grand feast set before him on a cloth that has also manifested before his eyes, he pokes a roll to see if it’s real. Again he laughs as he stares into the noodles that steam from a blue, ceramic bowl. Grabbing a piece of bread, he breaks it, noticing its warmth, as if it has just been baked.
How is this possible?
he thinks as he stuffs his face. A small fly lands on a piece of noodle, which has precariously fallen from his grasp. Bahi smiles to have a guest for dinner. “Hello, little friend,” he says, bending down closer to the fly. The fly stagers back and forth in a nervous dance, checking out Bahi, not sure if he should fly away or stay for the feast he has discovered.

“Buzzzzz hello,” the fly answers back, his tiny voice barely discernable.

Bahi laughs again, realizing that this is far more fantastic than any dream he has had. “Please, little fly friend. Help yourself to any of this.”

Buzzing up to Bahi’s shoulder, the fly sets down. “Bzzz, thanks, bzzz. You are kind.” The fly buzzes back down to sit on the noodles.

Finishing up, Bahi takes the uneaten food, namely a few rolls and unpeeled fruits—apples, mangoes, and bananas—and wraps them up in the cloth, tightly bundled. Bahi smiles at the fly, who walks almost frantically in sporadic patterns, as flies do.

“What is your name?” Bahi asks.

The fly zips up to his arm as Bahi lifts it to his face to talk closely, “I don’t know what this meanzzzz,” the fly says.

“What do they call you?” Bahi asks.

“I do not know.”

“I am Bahi. They call me Bahi, and you have no name. I know what that’s like.”

“No name, sorry.”

Bahi chuckles, “That’s OK, a name is not important.”

Buzzing, the fly asks, “What is it you call me?”

“I call you
fly
.”

The fly stops for a second from it’s almost constant movement, and looking up with his big red eyes sees Bahi in a pattern of many faces. “Bzzz. I am Fly.”

“Well, hello, Fly,” Bahi chuckles. “Looks like it may be dark soon. Where can I sleep tonight, Fly?” he asks, not expecting to get an intelligent answer.

“Bzzzz yes. Follow, please.” Fly bounces off of Bahi as Bahi quickly stands, grabbing the cloth of food.

Proceeding through some bushes, he steps quickly to keep up with Fly, who barrels through the unbeaten path of the jungle. Losing him from his sight every so often, Bahi stops to look as Fly buzzes back into his sight. “Come, there.” Fly buzzes quickly over to a small rock wall with a carved-out entryway.

Bahi pokes his head inside, “It’s not the comforts of the Baba’s, but it will be safer than out there,” he thinks. “Thank you, Fly,” he says as he ducks into the small opening.

The cave is dark and cool. As he settles on the cold, ground, he wonders if he will be able to sleep. Sitting in silence, as Fly buzzes around the cave, he takes a few deep breaths. “So, Fly, do you have family?”

“No family, no name, now we are friends, yes?” Fly questions back.

“Yes, now we are friends,” Bahi says, settling into the cave.

After a few moments in the small cave space he steps out to observe his surroundings. He listens as the jungle begins to settle in for the night and is glad he has some shelter from the darkness. The sun is now completely gone and he retreats into the cave, noticing Fly is gone. Lying on his back, he reflects on the day, and closing his eyes, he tries to find his
I
as the Baba had instructed.
Am I my hands?
he thinks.
Well if I were then if I cut off my hands I would no longer exist
. He searches his entire body in this way and decides,
Perhaps I am just the entire collection of these things
. He pictures all his body parts piled up, and laughs, thinking,
What if Fly came back and just saw a mound of body parts piled up in the cave?
Where am I?
Who am I?
he wonders.
Am I the mind that thinks this? If I am, what mind am I? Am I this peaceful mind now or the frightened one from the other day
.
My mind is always changing, so which one might I be?
He decides he is neither the mind nor the body and rests in the absence of both, noting that both are constantly changing. This
I
he believes to be fixed and set does not really exist the way he perceives it to. He thinks how wonderful this is, because he constantly creates himself anew, like the Baba said, limitless and changing, not limited and fixed the way he often believed. He rests in the absence of that which he thought he was. The peace of that space calms him, and he drifts off to sleep as he hears an echo that says, “Shambhala,” ushering him into a deep sleep.

I
N THE DEPTHS
of the cold, black night a strident rustling outside the cave awakens Bahi. His bleary eyes come to focus in the night’s darkness. He sees the shadow of a large snake just outside. His heart lifts from its slumber, beating faster, bringing him fully awake and alert as he scurries toward the back of the cave. Trembling, he tightly holds the cloth of food and watches with trepidation as the snake gently sways from a nearby tree.

Perhaps if I am very still, the snake will not see me
, he thinks. Cautiously, he sits up. He hears the sound of his own breath and fears even that is too loud. His breath trembles as he listens to the rustling of unknowns out in the trees above the cave. The snake becomes very still. Bahi worries that the serpent may be waiting to strike at him any moment. As he sits in great fear for hours, the jungle begins to brighten from the rising sun. Bahi begins to make the snake out and sees it’s none other than a vine hanging from the tree. He looks closely to make sure, and untenses his body. Laughing in relief, he ducks out of the cave and grabs the vine. “Oh, snake,” he says outloud, swinging the vine around. “You had me for quite a scare.” Laughing at himself, he dissolves the fright of the past few hours.

“Buzzz.” Fly lands on his face.

“Morning, Fly!” Bahi says, now relieved.

“Morning bzzzz.”

Bahi pulls an apple and roll from his cloth. “Come. Eat,” he invites, as Fly buzzes over to eat a small speck of bread.

After eating, Bahi picks up a tall stick from the ground, ties the cloth with food around one end, and props it over his shoulder—holding it at the other end.

“Fly, I must move on, I have much journeying ahead.”

“Buzz, I will come with you, friend.”

“Please do. I would love the company.”

And to that resolve, they enter the northward path, where they trek on for several hours. Along the homogeneous path, they’ve seemingly passed the same group of trees several times. The trail has led them to a wide field of grass and brush that lies in between gray, jagged rocks. Looking around, Bahi notices it closes off again into the jungle northward, just across the field. He sits down on a stone protruding from the ground that has seemed to invite him for a rest upon its flat surface. Taking in the innate beauty of this open land, he ponders how far he must be from any city, and again begins to think who he is, where he comes from. It often frightens him to think of this, for his uncertainty is unsettling. As he stands up and stretches in the deep silence of the jungle, he kicks a rock playfully. Fly buzzes ahead as Bahi slowly walks toward the northward trail, just on the other side of the field. He breathes in the beauty of the open land nestled among trees that line it in an almost perfect circle.

Bahi heads toward the northward trail. But an uneasy feeling, as if he is being watched, creeps into his consciousness. Proceeding with caution, he grasps his long stick, which holds what’s left of the food. Fly now sits on the cloth, buzzing on and off, constantly moving. Suddenly, from a disturbance in the treetop above a large tiger pounces down only a few feet in front of them. Bahi’s entire world comes to a sudden halt. As if in slow motion, his focus sees every move of the massive, burnt-sienna cat. His heart races and palms sweat as he drops the food and stick. The tiger opens his mouth, exposing large, white, knife-like teeth as he lets out a roar. The force of the roar hits Bahi, knocking him trembling to his knees, washing him in waves of dizziness. The tiger’s nostrils flare. Smelling Bahi’s scent, the beast contemplates devouring him for lunch. Bahi sits paralyzed with fear, sweat soaking his shivering body. He knows that an effort to run would be useless against a cat of such speed and vigor. Closing his eyes, he begins to chant
Om namah narayanaya
over and again. He begins to come to terms with certain death as the tiger again roars out in domination. Bahi’s voice trembles as he chants. Fly precariously buzzes around the Tigers face, fearless in knowing he would never be a feast for a tiger.

“
Om namah narayanaya
!” Bahi becomes the vibration in the darkness of his closed eyes. After some time he begins to wonder why he is even still able to chant this mantra alive. Opening his left eye, he notices the tiger is now tamely sitting right in front of him. The tiger’s broad, white chest and irregular black stripes are eye level as Bahi sits opening his eyes. The tiger lets out a playful, soft roar and lies on the gravel as if he wants to be petted. Bahi, still soaked with sweat and uncertainty, continues the mantra as he puts out his hand, slowly and in awe, to touch the tiger’s chest. Grasping the short, close hair of the chest, he rubs in a petting motion.

“Oh yeah, right there, that’s the spot,” the tiger says in a calm, relaxed tone.

“
Om namah narayanaya
,” Bahi still calls out, afraid to stop.

“
Om namana
who?” the tiger says while rolling over to sit on his belly, his large paws facing Bahi.

“
Om, namah, narayanaya,
” Bahi says with a nervous smile.

“Never heard of him,” the tiger says with a smile as he stands up and reaches his out his paw, “Raja’s the name.”

Bahi looks at his massive paw, burnt sienna on top, fading into a pale yellow and finally to a fluffy white fur that holds his retracted claws as they rest in the rough pads of his paws’ bottoms. Reaching his hand and placing his palm in the rough pad of Raja’s, still cautious, Bahi says, “B-B-Bahi.”

Raja stands quickly and pats Bahi on the back with such force it knocks him over. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Raja says as he nears the food sack next to Bahi. “Whatcha got in here, chap?”

“Food. You want some?” Bahi gladly offers, grateful to still be alive.

Fly settles on Bahi’s shoulder. “That’s one big pussycat,” Fly says in observation.

“Sure is,” Bahi says quietly as he opens the cloth, laying the food out. “Bread, apples, and a mango. That’s about it. Help yourself, Raja.”

“That’s it? Have you seen how big I am?! I may just have to eat you, then, roar roar roar!” Raja says audibly, roaring in a semi-dramatic fashion, shaking his head.

Bahi begins to tremble again, swallowing past a stone in his throat. “Well, I-I-I-I’d like it if you didn’t.”

“Well I-I-I-I’d like it if you didn’t,” Raja says mockingly. “Lighten up, kid. I’m just having fun with you. You don’t smell very tasty anyhow, I-I-I,” Raja says again, mocking Bahi as he laughs.

Bahi begins to laugh along with Fly, and the three laugh away the tension that was as thick as butter.

“So what brings you to my kingdom, Bahi?”

“I am traveling to Shambhala in the North, I am not sure exactly where it is, but I assume it’s a great distance from here.”

“Shambhala, huh? Never heard of it. I have a friend a bit North of here who can understand the human language, even read bits of it, result of some black magic gone awry. Say, how do I understand you?” Raja says noticing the conversation. “Oh no, they got me, they got me,” Raja frantically says as he paces nervously talking to himself. “Mama said not to hang out with those leopards. Darn it! No ma, I’m King of the Jungle. No black magic spells can hurt me.” Raja says mocking himself. “Oh woe is me, they got me!” Raja gets down on his belly with his paws in prayer toward Bahi. “Please take the curse from me, please!” He pleads with eyes tightly shut.

Bahi laughs, “It’s not a curse. I can talk to all the animals. It’s my curse, I assure you.”

“That’s true buzz,” Fly says as he sits on Raja’s ear.

“Are you sure? Ha ha! I knew that. I was just testing you,” Raja says pointing one sharp claw at Bahi before standing proud. “Black magic, Ha! Ma, I told you no black magic can get your boy!” he yells almost insanely into the thick of the jungle. “King of these parts I am!” Raja says, strutting proudly back and forth. Bahi and Fly laugh at the antics of Raja as he comes to face Bahi with a cocky puffed-up chest. “What were we talking about? Oh yeah. So I was headed North to see my buddy anyhow. The spotted deer are delectable this time of year,” Raja says, raising one eyebrow like a connoisseur. “You want to come with?” he offers.

“Please, if you think he may know the whereabouts of Shambhala.”

“You would be surprised the useless stuff he tells me from his observations of the humans in the city close to where he lives. I always tell him, humans are good only for one thing, Tendwa—lunch!” Raja says it while licking his lips and staring fiercely into Bahi’s eyes in a serious gaze of instinct. All falls silent, then a smile cracks his face. “I’m joking!” Raja says as he lets out a belly laugh. Bahi forces a laugh, letting out his nervousness in the form of a tight cackle.

“Here, get on, I’ll ride you up. It’s quite a distance North and may take up until tomorrow. It’ll be quicker this way.”

Finishing up the leftovers from the Baba, they climb atop Raja. Bahi takes hold of his massive, warm body. “Hold tight, Bahi. Don’t worry about me! Skin’s as tough as a rhino. I’m the King!” he yells out as he bolts off into the jungle. Bahi holds tightly with a smile from ear to ear. The warm jungle air whisks through his hair as Fly secures himself in Bahi’s shirt pocket, snug as he rests along the journey. Raja runs full speed for a long while, amazing Bahi with his stamina.

Coming to a stream that runs along a low valley, the tiger slows as a dusky sun shimmers white diamonds along the flowing water. A few drinking gazelles sense Raja as they jolt off into the distance of the valley’s plains, leaving a smoke of trotted dust in their path. Coming to the water’s edge, Bahi dismounts Raja, shaking out his stiff legs. Fly buzzes out of his pocket to sit on a piece of dung left behind by the fleeting gazelles. Silently drinking from the river, Raja looks up at Bahi. Water saturates the tiger’s white beard. It drips down as he smiles, “We’ll ride into the night and stop for rest before dawn.”

“OK,” Bahi says, glad he doesn’t have to walk this great distance.

Raja lies in the warm glow of the setting sun, rubbing his back in the gravel, then with a quick spring to his feet he instructs, “OK. back on, boys!”

Bahi mounts once again, and fly tucks away into his pocket as they whisk off along the valley’s plain. Animals scatter in all directions at the mere presence of Raja. Bahi feels privileged to ride upon such a king of kings in this immeasurable jungle. They journey into the night, up the sides of steep rock cliffs, Raja’s awesome strength easily hoists them up as Bahi grasps tightly to his body. They run along vast, open fields and narrow paths, passing all types of animals, who stare strangely at such a scene of man riding tiger. A large deer-like animal stops mid-chew upon some tall grass that falls from his mouth, raising his eyebrow in disbelief as the strangers swiftly pass by. They stop once for a brief rest and some water in the thick jungle night before rapidly heading off again into the darkness. Raja seems to have an unlimited source of energy that propels them through the night at such speeds.

Reaching a rock cliff, Raja stops suddenly as the sun begins to crack upon the dusty mountains afar. A pinkish orange mat lines the soft mountains as Raja bends down to let Bahi off. Stretching out, Raja lets out a deep yawn that echoes softly upon the dusty mountains, almost beckoning the sun, which creeps over the top of a far peak, extending a stream of warmth, dimishing the night’s coldness. Raja lies down and Bahi sits back. Head rested on Raja, facing the sun, Bahi gazes off into the distance at birds that usher in the day, swooping around the sky, plucking insects out of the air. Closing his weary eyes, he falls swiftly asleep. The warmth of the sun now blasts them fully from over distant mountains as they recline high above the valley below. They snooze on a precipice of flat, rocky cliff cushioned with grass.

A few hours pass, and Bahi opens his eyes in the afternoon sun. Squinting, he gets up to go to the bathroom. His face burns from the sun as he stretches and rubs his cheeks. Bahi watches as Fly buzzes around aimlessly. He wonders if Fly ever sleeps. Stepping off into the woods, Bahi begins to go to the bathroom, smiling inwardly from such an amazing adventure. Finishing, he scratches the beard that has begun to form on his face. He closes his eyes and stretches. When he opens them he is face to face with a Himalayan Black Bear. Standing tall in his smooth, short, black hair, which adorns a white crescent on his chest, his white chin drops open as he lets out a roar, leaving Bahi speechless as he feels the warmth of this beast’s breath. Quickly, Bahi recites the mantra
Om namah narayanaya
, but it doesn’t seem to be having any effect. The bear swipes his large claws at Bahi, who quickly ducks behind a fallen tree that leans on another, standing erect by its side. Striking the fallen tree with such force that he nearly breaks it in half, the bear hops around the side as Bahi swiftly backs away, tripping on a root. He lies helpless as the bear lunges forward and—like a flash of lightening—Raja pounces down between them, letting out a roar that echoes through the mountains. The bear roars back as Raja growls, slowly moving toward him. Keen that he may be no match for Raja, the bear growls in disgust and runs off.

“That’s right! King of this here jungle! Tell your friends!” Raja roars triumphantly as he walks back towards Bahi.

Bahi gets up and brushes the dirt from his clothes. “Thank you, Raja. That was a close call.”

Stretching his back in a cat-scratch manor, forelegs down, back legs erect, shaking off his nap, he strains to say, “All in a days work for,” standing proud, “King of this here jungle! Come on, Tendwa lives close, hop on.”

Mounting Raja, they quickly head off toward the valley below. En route Bahi notices a village or town in the distance. Smoke billows quietly from a white house that sits softly, surrounded by a few others that seem to be built into the mountainside. The sky is a rich blue. Puffy, white clouds pour over the mountaintops, often casting shadows on the small homes that dot the spaces between trees in the green of the hillside. The jungle has turned to a fragrant pine forest. Monkeys swing above them as they slow to an open area, shadowed by large pines that jut out of rocks in odd directions.