“I won’t forget to smile”, he said, nuzzling her lovingly “as I face my fears. But do you know how to protect yourself against lightning strikes?”
His face was serious again. She didn’t know what she would do when the crash came, but it didn’t matter.
“Midas was stupid”, Josh voiced his opinion, “why didn’t he just wear gloves? That would have been much safer."
"He could have had the gold and touched things without turning them into gold.”
There was pin drop silence for a moment. Then Hosh spoke up.
“Where else can one go? It is all here. What more is there to seek? I already have Him. What more is there to become? I already am.”
“No, my liberation is not in seeking more, not in getting more, but in giving back what I do have now.”
"No," said Kabir, "but please give my regards to the Allah of Mecca."
The friend was puzzled.
"Is there a different Allah in Mecca?" he asked.
‘Vasudhaev kutumbkam,’ he understood it now, though he had heard it a thousand times before. ‘Mundo Uno - One World’.
अयं बन्धुरयं नेति, गणना लघुचेतसाम् | उदार चरितानां तु वसुधैव कुटुम्बकम् ||
'Discrimination, saying ‘this one is a relative; that other is a stranger’, is for the small-minded. For the magnanimous, the entire world is one family.'
"That can't really be true!" exclaimed Josh, "You can't just wake up once you are truly dead."
"Well, Jesus is said to have risen from the dead," said Rosh, "What makes you think he was the only one to do so?"
"Jesus did," remarked Josh, "because he could. He was the son of God."
He thought about his father’s future work. Creating and publishing stories – inspired by life.
Creating another Upanishad! A contemporary Upanishad! Perhaps an Upanishad retold!
Would he read it? He knew he would, he loved his father’s stories anyway.
Quietly he lay, staring at the white hospital ceiling. It was a plain canvas, unlike his own life. If only life could be as uncluttered as ceilings were.
His life had been full. Made full by his own ambition and effort. It had been a life of becoming.
“Will you leave us to beg on the streets?” Isha turned her face away in anguish, “while you illuminate the world. Why must Yashodharā always pay the price of Siddharth’s enlightenment?”
Her world was falling apart, and she with it. Rosh felt pity. He knew how hard it was going to be for her.
Nothing changes in the world around you, yet your world changes completely.
The eye sees. The eye of the beholder is the key.