January 14, 2006 Having boarded a train
that I learned later is more or less guaranteed to arrive late, I reached
my destination-Varanasi-on New Year's Eve 2005 just in time to make it to
the home of Sri Ramachandra Pandit to welcome the appearance of 2006. I
celebrated New Year's Day with Ramuji and the Family Haberman, whom I have
known for many years. Meagan Haberman is this year a student of the
University of Wisconsin Academic Year in Varanasi Program, enjoying
herself immensely while studying Hindi and local culture. Later in the
week the Habermans & I & Sri Navneet Raman made a pilgrimage out to the
Krishnamurti Foundation, which stands on the riverbank just north of the
giant rail bridge. That the Foundation's quiet grounds of peaceful beauty,
with their majestic trees that beg meditators to sit in their shade, can
share the same city with the hive of intemperate urban activity that is
the rest of Benaras is one of the world's insoluble mysteries.
Later in the week a group led by Steve Brothers (whom I originally met
in Benaras many years back) arrived from Kathmandu, and too soon I & they
entrained for New Delhi, where two sad encounters awaited me. The first
was what turned out to me my last meeting with Sri P. R. Gupta, who had
for many years hosted me at his home on my Delhi visits. Guptaji, who for
many years published the India Dairy Yearbook & the India
Poultry Yearbook, was a well-educated editor, a dedicated student of
spirituality, and a thorough gentleman. He and his family never failed
to supply me with excellent hospitality, and I was saddened that I had to
tell him goodbye as he lay in a hospital bed, far from comfortable home
where he was at his affable best. He will be sorely missed.
My other poignant reunion was with Prafull Daftary, and son & daughter-in-law
Janu & Patsy and their family. Prafull had six weeks before become a
widower, after 58 years of marriage to Kamla. I first met the Daftarys
outside the Ssi Hai Chinese restaurant in Bombay in January 1974, a few
days after my first arrival in that city. On that occasion I had asked
Prafull, who was exiting from the eatery with Kamla & younger son Manu,
if this was a good place to eat; he responded by whipping out some money,
suggesting that I & the friend with me dine there than night, and at the
Daftary home the next night. We did, and the Daftarys & I became the
greatest of friends. I used to house sit for them whenever they would
visit the UK or USA on business (Prafull was then the managing director
a Bombay brewery that brews according to the recipe of Tusker Beer, which
I knew from Kenya), enjoying myself immensely in their splendidly enormous
flat on the harbor just opposite the Battery. Janu having just married Patsy
and moved to Delhi, Kamla immediately adopted me as a "third son"; curiously,
though she was younger than my own mother, they share the same birthdate;
and both Prafull & Kamla & my own parents celebrated their 50th anniversaries
in 1998.
More curiously, one of Prafull's uncles chaired the committee that first
translated into English the Charaka Samhita, Ayurveda's most eminent text.
In addition, it was thanks to the Daftarys that I made the acquaintance of
the people who arranged for me to be admitted into the Ayurveda college in
Poona, and it thus no exaggeration to say that had I not landed at the Ssi
Hai's doorstep at the moment that the Daftary's were departing that my own
life would likely have devolved along a completely different route. For
this, and for the love that they showered on me, all the while that they
were in Bombay and after they moved to Bangalore post-retirement, and for
the dramatic demonstration of the power of synchronicity that has stayed
with me ever since, no sentiments can begin to express my indebtedness and
gratitude. I did however express what I could as I wished my beloved Kamla
farewell, just before my departure for Delhi, on the banks of the glorious
Ganga in my beloved Benaras ...
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