Valley of Flowers (3 page)

His sight ascended tens of thousands of
kilometers then, as he looked to the grand eternal expanse or
bottomless blue business that was this morning’s sky.

Arjuna peered lower, towards the current
pantheon of telling points. He gazed at this range’s seven
snow-clad peaks. The old man looked to the constructed castle spree
up in the crisp cool air. The mountains seemed prone to long-term
fits of melancholy.

His focus came back then, though not resting
on one flower cluster, or swath of blue poppies, brilliantly
illumined and standing sprightly out of a solid stone, nor was his
focus on this colorful communion, where the gods had seemingly
tossed down flowers as darts for over a millennia, but on the
minute.

Just then the ground before him abruptly
broke open. Through the popped-up tuft of grass a single stem rose.
At first this flower came up unsteadily. It went on to put out
boldly though the hard knot of a new bud.

Arjuna watched this miracle of life grow. He
saw it rise, struggle to mature, amid the elements and the
ever-present life changes. He moved to get a closer look. The old
man wanted to study better a water bubble that had miraculously
formed on one fragile leaf. To him, the reverse image that showed
on the bubble's face reflected well a delicate avant-garde or work
that is experimental.

Arjuna felt the tinge of apprehension. He
fretted some over the fate of this flower with the O so subtle
gleam.

The old man was concerned its shine could be
broken by so much as a scratch from a butterfly's foot.

The flower reached a peak. Arjuna felt
blessed for having seen this beauty grow up, evolve amidst all here
and then age. He watched this flower begin to wilt. Arjuna observed
the flower bend low now, onto the ground, to die.

"
Yes,
"
he said, in answer
to the youth's original question. "What we resist persists in this
miracle and daily informs us that much in this world is O so
agreeably lovely."

The comment supported and got keys to this
faultless earthly palace,which readily serves all, together with
the coarse, the poor and downtrodden, the powerless and the
voiceless.

"
Well,
"
said
Nicolas, fashioning to gain control of these pretty premises, and
he was well on the lookout now for this opportunity while the art
market was still booming.
"
If
life is going to bring this opportunity, and I do get my fair
chance, I should do fairly well here.
"

With this, Arjuna reached in his pack to
rustle up an item to give this eager young fellow. On finding it
the old man held the thing out for him to come take.

"
Here,
"
he
said.
"
Inside a map is provided with descriptions
of the holes you will encounter along the way. The map shows their
lengths and pathways to them. Do you have a compass with
you?
"
Arjuna asked.

Nicolas felt through his shirt for the
compass-as-whistle hanging round his neck.

"
Yes,
"
he said happily,
stepping over to the old man.

"
Good,
"
said
Arjuna.
"
Now I have written a few words for your
record of play. These hymns to the gods are meant to be heard. So,
when you read them to yourself they will be heard! If you find they
are useful to you, sing their praises by please using
them.
"

When Nicolas thought the old man was done
speaking, he put his hands together at the chest meaning I
recognize the god within you. He bowed slightly to this elder and
teacher. He accepted the handmade coursebook with both hands. He
did this as if receiving possession papers to a grand palace, or
accepting the keys to creation, happy to get custody but sad too
because he sensed all this gift-giving might soon be over.

As the old man moved to sit more
comfortably, Nicolas opened his course journal there and then. He
began reading to himself the old man's written mantra for this 1st
hole, on the Indian Himalayan course known as Truind.

There are various ways of warfare, not merely with simple
metal weapons, having a reflective, meditative mind among them.
Become expert in these many other ways. Begin your duty then,
providing an unmatched contribution
.

Nicolas concentrated on the note. He looked
at its strange script for some significance. He mulled over one
fragment of this teacher's say of words to arrive at some gist.

Happy in the garden already, on a day made
for doing endless somersaults, he felt the message in the handmade
textbook were meaningless lyrics to a song, and so Nicolas lifted
an eyebrow then shrugged.

"
All right then,
"
he
said not comprehending, though feeling quite the star or darling to
the masses. Again he looked at this teacher’s curious say of words.
Once more his mind ventured out. But then he gladdened at this
note, which he felt had come from a loving lord.

Nicolas told himself to get serious and to
concentrate. Still he appeared only ready to accept a funny
one-liner. He felt performing on this initial stage was all about
having fun. He believed a series of triumphs were sure to be
his.

But just as Nicolas looked up from his
course journal as a giggle-puss, there roused in him an element of
curiosity. This doubt puffed, swelled up to become a great cloud of
suspicion, hanging as if over his head.

Nicolas had no idea what the subject matter
was. This left his thinking as the breeze, in something of a drift.
Then a cold wave of air swept through to chill and even buckle up
his skin.

The mystery note had not gone away. It held up motionless,
ordinary, markedly self-denying as a vacant cartoon bubble, when
just then a solitary message appeared in it as a
Pop!
in any Eureka
moment.

The bolt-from-the-blue communication struck
and pierced his exalting heart. It had him reeling under this new
red-flagged occasion. It spawned in him a simple though urgent
question. Where is the fairway?

4

One answer came as a heavy thud. This was followed
fast
by his
quick-beating heart. Right before his eyes there seemed to be a
severe paint-peeling going on. This marked well his extreme
disappointment.

Nicolas staggered some in
his thoughts. He felt barely able to stand also, physically. If he
toppled, Nicolas imagined he might appear as yet
another
hooch tragedy, emanating from the alcohol-selling
state of Gujarat.

He looked eyes-glazed over the flower
valley. He peered at what had once been his exact image of perfect
peace and absolute goodness.

He scanned the multitude of flowers that
sparked his fears. He looked dartingly there and there.

Once a tall, 185 cm figure and proud,
Nicolas felt greatly diminished. He stood in silence. He looked for
any space for an escape. He saw in the violent realities there was
no known room without occupying flowers.

His hopes sank to their lowest lows. His
eagerness now was plainly missing as with state funds being
siphoned.

Nicolas inhaled deeply. He found all this
hard to digest.

What is this all about anyway? he
thought.

More words out of frustration may have come
from him had there been no real self control. At this time he
thought to cast himself in the role as a defender.

Nicolas felt these flowers with their bright
worried faces were like candles lighted in protest. He heard them
raise hue and cry over the desecration issue. He thought the time
spent coming up this high heap had all been thoroughly wasted.

He looked down and drained. Nicolas was
convinced he would be heading back down the mountain soon. He had
dreams of idle perfection. He turned to Arjuna to express his deep
concern.

Having seen the change coming, the old man
had readily risen. Arjuna looked prepared, standing, waiting beside
his small pack. He stood unmoving, not shuffling nor shifting
about. He appeared ready and willing, as with any good mentor, to
accept whatever may come from the aggrieving youth. And Nicolas did
speak.

"
Sir, you confuse me,
"
he said in an upset voice.
"
Am I to hit into these many
flowers?
"

Nicolas felt he was at some life crossroads.
He braced to cope. He stared at the array of colorful wildflowers
without having much hope for them.

"
Destruction before creation,
"
said Arjuna tenderly, as in a condolence
message.

This communication was delivered soft. It
arrived as if at his doorstep, however, as a norm-buster. Nicolas
replayed the message from this good teacher. Again it went off as a
planted bomb. A moment of some silence passed between them. Both
understood without thinking of it that silence in their culture was
not at all offending.

Still the quiet felt like an affronting
whipped-up wind.

More seconds passed where each thought the
other should say something. The old man caved first.

Initially, Arjuna broke the silence with a
throat-clearing cough. He then added a retiring line that denoted
grave kindness.

"
It is always this way,
"
he said,
"
a
nd in this way beauty
calls.
"

Nicolas was in
turmoil
,
his eyes
fixed and housed terror. It seemed as if bricks and rubble had been
strewn all round. He stood
there
in bits and pieces.

For his part, Arjuna
resisted the base urge to rectify or
even
solve the problem. He sought
only to add to this
correct
code of conduct. The old man used his influencing
strong voice that made starting play here seem almost
mandatory.

"
Finally,
"
said Arjuna,
"
this is Shiva and this is love.
"

At first Nicolas tried to understand this
fine nuance. Then he had a look suggesting that even attempting to
understand this high philosophy could only boomerang back onto
him.

As playing here would be quite unjust, it
occurred to him motivating others, to perhaps join some movement,
would be his highest priority. It dawned on this peace promoter too
that a candlelight vigil, set for the evening say, might help
highlight the grave hazards in playing here.

Only at the last minute
did Nicolas move away from saying aloud his wild slew of
schemes
.
He had no desire now to step
onto this many-flowered valley, or subtlest example of the Divine
Mother’s good grace.

He looked to Arjuna for some change of
heart. He saw only that the old man was ready to speak more.

"
Now it's best for you not to know too much
truth,
"
said
Arjuna with consternation,
"
o
r concern yourself with too much
understanding. If you were to come to know All, you would not for a
single moment think to harm another, eat the flesh of an animal.
This I am quite sure. If you were to know All, a look of horror,
Absolute Truth’s first salvo, would bolt across your face in a
lightning’s flash. Maybe you would fall to your knees just then and
bleat like sheep. Along my many life-wanderings, I have seen this
look numberless times. For you, and it will not always be this way,
moving towards wisdom is by performing deed, for yourself and for
All That Is, and only by performing deed do you make Truth be your
vow. These are the words I care to express to you, so enjoy
heatedly then, by getting out there and performing, as there can be
no substitute, all the while remembering that from the four main
points of the compass, as well as from above and below, life will
come at you. So be ready.
"

Arjuna allowed a few seconds to pass without
speaking more. He gifted himself this break to take in a quantity
of air. He replenished his expended breath. Then he went back into
the hunt.

"
Now I ask you, Nicolas, what are you hesitating about? Go on
and take on this battle. Get into the game now and carry out your
born-into promise.
"

Nicolas looked out at a sea of distressed
flowers. This had him thinking he was not at all ready for this
horrific hand and foot action.