Circle Of Love

Our ship had docked and we decided to explore.

Sandy was native Alaskan. I, Sonia was from New York. We’d met at a summer camp, fallen in love and got married. That was five years ago.

A friend hailed Sandy but I decided to explore further- we decided to meet at the dock in a couple of hours.

I found a lookout point from where I could feast on the glaciers which drew me. I was joined by an elderly stranger. He told me a lovely folktale of this point.

Aaleahya was native Alaskan. She loved Iqniq (fire) the chief’s son. They were to wed next full moon day. Meanwhile their village got attacked by white man and Iqniq was killed. Aaleahya was sad. She came to this point nightly and stared at the glaciers. She died of a broken heart. Visitors often saw Aaleahya and Iqniq’s spirits embracing here. Stranger showed her his locket with their faces. She saw Sandy and herself staring back!

this picture is from inernet

Little Bobbie was in seventh heaven to have the secret room as his very own and wanted to sleep there as well.  His parents decided to make him happy as this way they could keep an eye on him more easily.

Bobbie was an only child and ever since he learnt to walk, he would be all over the
house playing with toys in hand.  His mom Raji tried to restrain him in his room by feeding and playing with him there.  Gradually Bobbie kept to his room and when he was lonely he would start speaking with his friend Kanha.  He would say” Kanha, please come and play with me.  I want to be your playmate.”  Suddenly, Kanha would emerge from the silver statue and they would play for hours together.  Now the sounds of two pairs of anklets would reverberate in the house.    Raji and the maid would hear this delightful tinkle and smile.  It never occurred to them that it was the sound made by two pairs.  After Bobbie got tired and fell asleep hugging his pal Balgopal, the Lord would merge back into the statue.

One day Bobbie woke up early and looked for his pal but he was not there!  Instead there was a lovely peacock feather on his pillow.

He stared at it in wonder!  He had liked the feather on Balgopal’s gold crown and had wanted one also.  Carefully he put the feather in his Alphabet book. 

Raji had finished cooking and was between chores.  She decided to sit early with Bobbie to teach the alphabets and numbers.  On opening the book, she found the lovely peacock feather.  Upon asking the child where he got it, Bobbie said “Mom my pal Gopal gave it to me!”  Raji was mystified and questioned her son further.  She asked “Which Gopal?”  Bobbie pointed to the silver statue in the swing.  He said “He plays with me every day and even sleeps with me.  I had asked him to get me a feather just like the one he has on his head.”   Raji was overjoyed and believed her son!  She realized the room had a very peaceful aura and instead of the usual musty smell, it had a pleasing fragrance of fresh jasmine flowers and camphor.  She hugged her son and kissed him in pure joy.  She joined her hands and prayed babbling her thanks to Him for gracing their home.
It was Janamashtami day and Bobbie’s parents both fasted and broke it only after midnight.  Next day they held kirtan in their home and invited all the neighbors for lunch.  The silver Kanha seated in the swing occupied the place of honor in the living room where one corner has been converted into a temporary temple.  Fifty six varieties of sweets had been prepared for the lord and the house resounded with sounds of bhajans and rejoicing celebrating the birth of the lord.  Finally it was over and the lord was returned to Bobbie’s room.  Bobbie had been excited by the day’s goings on and had played to his heart’s content with the guest’s kids.  He had other playmates now.

Bobbie was often invited to other homes and between play and day school he became busy and hence did not call out to his playmate as often as before.  Their meetings became infrequent and then stopped completely. 
Bobbie was sent home early from school as he was unwell.  Raji immediately took him to the doctor who said he had caught a virus and gave him a mild sedative and medicines.  The child’s fever was very high and Raji sat by his bedside placing cooling cloth pads on his forehead to lower the temperature.  She was weeping silently.  Then as Bobbie settled down into a fitful rest, she left the room.  

After an hour or so, Bobbie woke up suddenly and cried out to his old pal Balgopal.  He said “please Kanha come and talk to me.  I know I have been busy but you know I love you very much Kanha.”  The lord emerged from the statue and sat by his side.  Then Kanha placed his tiny hand on Bobbie’s forehead and in a few minutes the fever vanished.  Bobbie got up and both played as before.  Then the Lord told Bobbie that now that he had become a big boy he did not need him any more and that whenever he remembered HIM he should close his eyes and he would appear as HE lived in his heart.  He said he had to visit other boys who needed him.  They hugged each other and the Lord merged into the statue never to appear again.

Kesar and Rajratan smiled happily in their portraits which hung in Bobbie’s room and which his sons had left for Bobbie along with the silver statue and the swing.

all pictures are from the internet except last one which is mine 

Little Bobby loved to venture now that he could crawl.  His mom Raji was usually at her wit’s end turning pots n pans, closets, nooks and crannies for him.  Finally she’d extricate him with cobwebs hanging on curly locks and dust smearing his cherubic face.  His endearing smile melted her anger and she hugged him to her bosom, thankful that he was safe.

Bobby

“Mom is really busy today and now that my tummy is full, I can go and seek new adventure.”  His tiny anklets tinkling, the baby made a beeline for his favorite haunt, that secret room with big brass inlaid doorway and old fashioned chain and lock where happily he gurgled and cooed as though playing with someone.  Luckily the door had been unlocked for mopping and dusting.

“Today I am going to explore that dark corner which has some really interesting jars and pots.  Even though I like that silver baby in the swing a lot but if I can crawl into the rocking chair, then I can have a better look.  Let’s see if I am able to climb on.” 

Pre-Partition of India and Pakistan

Chowdhary Ratan Singh was greatly respected in his town in West Punjab, now in Pakistan.  His family owned a flourishing business in dry fruits.  His brothers and their families also lived in the rambling mansion.  Ratan had one son and two daughters.  He got his girls settled early and was on the lookout for a suitable bride for his son Rajratan(Raj).  Around that time there was a problem in the dry fruit supply from Kabul and he sent Raj to investigate.  Raj went to meet their main supplier Aftab Khan who invited him for dinner.  There he met Khan’s daughter Kesar and fell head over heels in love with her.  Kesar felt the same pull.  She knew her father was ready to marry her off to her awful cousin Kaif who was a mean person and hence knowing their families would never agree, they bolted to Delhi.

Kesar’s mother was in the know and not only approved but had given whatever money she could lay her hands on and jewelry.  She even sent a maid to help them.  Both the fathers were angry and washed their hands off them and forbid everyone from even uttering their names.  Ratan cursed his first born but on his deathbed forgave his son and wished they had patched up. 
Rajratan Singh and Kesar were hardworking and after selling their jewelry and diamond ear-rings they were able to have enough seed money to start they own dry fruit business in Delhi.  Both knew the supply sources and through a trusted hand were able to build up their business from scratch.  Here in Delhi festivals and marriages took place all the time hence dry fruits were always in demand.  They had chosen well.  The couple missed their old homes.  They constructed their new home incorporating the beauty of both ancestral homes.  The doors had brass inlaid work and the windows and latticed balconies had intricate colored glass designs to keep the harsh summer sun out.  Cross ventilation kept their home cool.  They were happy except for the one recurring pain in their bosom for their kith n kin whom they missed dreadfully.    Raj and Kesar each had worn cameos of their parents around their neck and hence got paintings done of their elders and it occupied a place of honor in their diwan khana (drawing room).  The kids would get to know their grand parents in this manner only.

Time sped and Raj and Kesar’s two sons decided to study abroad where they subsequently married and settled down never to return. The parents  grieved for their sons realizing how their own parents must’ve felt.  They reconciled and now took one day a time.      

There was a lot of unrest against the British rule.  Some firebrand Hindus decided to bomb the local prison and set free their leaders.  Raj and Kesar were in the bazaar when the bomb misfired and were killed instantly.  Their horse buggy driver and jack of all cook Bakshi quickly gathered up their mangled bodies and got them cremated before sundown. Then they dispatched mail to their sons overseas to return home and immerse the ashes in the holy Ganges.    The letters never reached as the post office was bombed the next day.  The sons remained oblivious of their parent’s demise.  Finally the family lawyer as per instructions sold off the mansion keeping one room locked with family heirlooms for the sons whom he had informed via telegram.  It was a clause that was agreed upon by the buyer in the sale deed.  Their parent’s curse did not let Raj and Kesar rest in peace and their ashes languished along with the heirlooms.  They lingered on.

This was the room which attracted the baby most.  The keys had been provided to the new owner for mopping and dusting and for this service the sale price had been adjusted.

Little Bobby managed to climb the rocker in the forbidden room.  He was in seventh heaven.  There were so many interesting objects on the mantle above the fireplace.  Also there were those huge pictures of old people.  He scrambled down and crawled into the corner, when suddenly four hands quickly embraced him and hugged him.  He felt kisses being showered on his cheeks and squealed with delight.  The maid was passing by and heard the sound and came rushing in.  She brought out the dirty squirmy brat and then his mother saw perfect lip marks on his two cheeks! She got the fright of her life!  She decided to investigate.  She saw the nook where Bobby had crawled and there under the red velvet cloth lay two pots tied up with red threads.  They looked like someone’s ashes!

So the old people’s spirits were still in residence!  Oh my God! Her hand flew to her mouth in a silent cry.  She quickly called her husband home and showed him the ashes.

Next morning they called the local pundit who knew the departed well and said that they were waiting for salvation at the hands of their sons.  Fortunately the sons were finally in town to tie up the loose ends of the family business and property sale and had indicated that they would like to see what their parents had stored for them.  They were grief stricken and remorseful about their callous neglect.  But it was too late.  Next day they performed “Havan” and all rituals required to speed off their loved ones.  They immersed the ashes in the holy Ganges.  In their dream their parents had asked them to gift their silver swing with Bal Gopal to little Bobby their little playmate whom they had enjoyed during transition.

Bobby was in seventh heaven as now the secret room was thrown open and made into his playroom.  He slept with the Balgopal by his bedside.  His elderly friends no longer played with him.  They were resting in peace.

pictures from internet- not mine

A Journey- a Connection

Sometimes, certain journeys are like a renaissance painting, a bit blurred but pleasant on the eye and soul soothing.  Such were the trips we’d made consecutively a few years ago during our visit to India.

My sister has great faith in this particular Devi shrine in Himachal and both times she was delighted to have us n make it a family outing.

We piled into a Tata Sumo van in wee hours.  Bro-in-law’s  best friend Jay likes to drive.  After invoking  Hindu god Ganesh and   goddess shakti also knowns as “devi” we were on our way.  Jay is a diehard fan of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan hence out of his copious pockets he withdrew some tapes and we were treated to some soulful sufi music.   We were entranced.  The mood was set for the trip.

I have absolutely no road sense, so will only dwell on what my mind captured on these trips.  On our way after several hours, I recall having a sumptuous meal at a  (roadside diner)   Dhaba.  Then we were climbing the mountains and the hairpin curves around white limestone/sandstone cliffs were rather daunting.  Luckily none of us was nauseous and then we had halted midway up the mountain at a Shiva shrine inside a cave.  This was a natural cave temple of Trilokpur containing a stalactite and stalagamite dedicated to Shiva. High on the ridge of the cave we saw the ruins of a palace and baradari (audience hall). Ihe Shiva temple was very ancient and we had to bend very low to enter this shrine.  Outside, there was a lovely waterfall(banganga) and I felt this is how mount Kailash would be with Ganga flowing out of the Shiva locks as he meditated.

  After paying due obeisance we were on our way reluctant to leave as it was very peaceful high up in the mountains. The Kangra valley is one of the most picturesque valleys of lower Himalayas. Ancient Hindu Temples like Bajreshwari Devi, Chamunda Devi, Baijnath Shiv temple and Jwala Devi ji dot the country side. The valley, sheltered by the sublime Dhauladhar range, is green and luxuriant. It provides a tremendous contrast in nature.

I recall visiting the various “Devi” shrine during these trips. The one place that completely enchanted me was this ancient shrine of Mata called Bagalamukhi.    The Bankhandi temple is located on the Dehra-Dharamsala road, Kangra. There had been a rock fall and a good portion had fallen inwards inside the cave itself.  The inner sanctorum was intact and the caretakers had built a small entrance and veranda around it.  Belief had it that whatever boon you ask there will be fulfilled.  My sister firmly believed in it after a narrow escape and her husband had promised  the Devi that he would return to give thanks and hold a langar (lunch)for the local children and their families. 

After due respects everyone was busy mustering up the locals and preparing for the langar feast.  I absorbed the peace and tranquility of the place.  It was incredible.  The aura and the vibrations were amazing.  Mercifully there were no crowds and in fact at that time we were the only ones there.  I was allowed to sit in the inner sanctorum and the bliss was tangible.  I closed my eyes and meditated.  I was transported.  It was almost an out of body experience.  I was floating and drawn towards the deity. Peace descended on my bruised spirit like a soothing salve.  The Mother had taken me in her arms and removed all my hurts absorbing them and filling the void with love.  I was in a blissful state.  had journeyed within and without. This shrine’s power was quite potent and I felt it fully. I cherish this experience holding it close to my heart.

*In Hinduism, Bagalamukhi or Bagala is one of the ten mahavidya goddesses. Bagalamukhi Devi smashes the devotee’s misconceptions and delusions by her cudgel. She is also known as Pitambara in Northern Parts of India. (wiki)

**Kangra HP, rich in culture and history is sheltered by the massive Dhauladhar range of mountains and this majestic mountain range surpasses all others in its grandeur The history of Kangra valley dates back to vedic times, more than 3,500 years ago. It finds mention in the Puranas the Mahabharta and in Rajtarangani. Kangra valley is one of the most picturesque valleys in the Himalayas. The famous Bajeshwari Devi temple is located in the town.  Kangra town is situated at the confluence of the Baner and Majhi streams, overlooking the Banganga torrent famous for temples, forts and now a speedily emerging as a business centre. There are two other important Hill stations in district Kangra known as Dharamsala and Palampur. All in all, Kangra with a numerous important temples is a great destination for people looking to go on a religious holiday escape.

Dharamshala is full of Buddhist air and McLeod Ganj is Dalai Lama’s official residence, and home to several Buddhist monasteries and thousands of Tibetan refugees.  We got a taste of mini Tibet here.  The shrine of Budhha was very majestic and peaceful. (Source-internet)

pics. from internet

Guddi was in seventh heaven after she came to know that her beloved author “Shivam” was her KK!  She had read every single book written by him.  She longed for her parents to meet KK in person as she knew they would be impressed by him.  KK and his family were scheduled to arrive in Delhi the following week to attend a formal dinner at the Rashtrapati Bhawan (Presidential palace) that was being given to honor India’s Olympic team and the Republic Day honoraries.  KK’s family was planning to meet with Guddi’s parents during this visit. 

The families met and liked each other but still the Singh family balked at this alliance mainly due to the “Gurkha” hilly features of the Kusho family even though they were impressed by the diluted royal bloodline.
They had reached an impasse.

Guddi quietly took KK to the local gurudwara whose head priest was her friend and right from her childhood had been her confidante and consoler.  She felt he would help them out.

The head priest and seer, a realized holy man was revered by the local community.  His words were treated with due respect and reverence.
He liked Guddi and KK at first glance and knew they belonged together.  He looked into their eyes and liked what he saw.  He gave them his blessings and asked them to return with their parents within the hour. 

The two families met the priest in his private chamber and what he told them, startled them all.

***
  Story of Mirza-Sahiba

The Lord of the Jatts – Mirza Jatt – The Archer of the Archers. The Jatt of the Jatts.
And Sahiba the beautiful love lorn soul.

 
Mirza and Sahiban were first cousins as he was sahiba’s mother’s brother’s son. They fell in love with each other. But she was  forcibly being made to wed Tahar Khan instead, by her parents. Sahiba at once sends a taunting message to Mirza, whom she loves, at his village Danabad, through a Brahmin called Kammu.
 It said:

“You must come and decorate Sahiban’s hand with the marriage henna.”

Mirza Khan was the son of Wanjhal Khan, the leader of the Kharal tribe in Danabad, a town in the Jaranwala area of Faisalabad, Pakistan. Sahiba was the daughter of Mahni, the chief of Khewa, a town in Sial Territory in the Jhang district Punjab,Pakistan. Mirza was sent to his relatives’ house in Khewa to study, where he met Sahiba and they fell in love. Her family opposed the relationship, and instead arranged a marriage with a member of the Chadhar family.

In those times people valued their self respect and love, kept their promises, and sacrificed life for truth. Mirza arrived on his horse, Bakki the night before the wedding and secretly carried her away, planning to elope. Sahiba’s brothers got to know about this and decided to follow them. On the way, as Mirza lies under the shade of a tree to rest for a few moments, Sahiba’s brothers caught up with them.

Sahiba was a virtuous and a beautiful soul who did not desire any bloodshed to mar the one she loved. She did not want her hands drenched in blood instead of henna. She thinks Mirza cannot miss his target, and if he strikes, her brothers would surely die. Before waking up Mirza, Sahiban breaks his arrows so he can’t use them. She presumes on seeing her, her brothers would feel sorry and forgive Mirza and take him in their arms. Now Sials and Chandarhs arrive and surround Mirza Jatt. Mirza Jatt gets his Mighty Sword out and starts defending himself but he is one against many. Despite being alone, he fights like a Mighty Warrior and a ferocious Lion but is eventually outnumbered.  Mirza Jatt is hit on the back fatally by Chandarh Jatts and The Great Mirza Jatt Kharral dies.  Sahiba is grief stricken and mourns the death of her lover.  It is said that she died on the spot out of shock and remorse at what she had done. Other’s say Sahiban slaughtered herself with a sword and thus bid farewell to this world.
 
 
Meanwhile Mirza’s Family, mother and sister mourn as the horse Bakki reaches Danabad without Mirza and they come to know the entire story.  Mirza’s Family soon reach the spot where both Mirza and Sahiba lay dead.
 
Mirza Jatt and Sahiba Jatti were buried together and their graves still exist in West Punjab. Sahiba died on the spot but Mirza the supreme Jatt became Immortal forever, in the hearts and minds of the Jatt People. 

***

Some say that Mirza’s horse Bakki was from Shri Guru Gobind Singh’s (10th sikh guru)horse’s blood line. Mirza sahiba’s story is the only story where the guy’s name comes first and then the girl’s. Mirza’s love was greater like a steady flame whilst her’s wavered for both her family and lover.

Mirza–Sahiban is a treasure of Punjabi literature. It is a romantic tragedy

**   ***  ***

The priest then revealed that both the families were the reincarnated Jatt families of Mirza Sahiban and after many lifetimes it was ordained that justice had to be finally served and the two souls had to united. 

The Singhs were rather shook up and quietly agreed without any further reservations.  The lovers were elated.

Note: mirza sahibaan’s story and pictures are from internet only

Neil’s Reincarnation- Ageless Love

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Part two: Amber’s Reincarnation

http://www.binaguptapoetry.com/ambers-reincarnation-997.htm

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Neil, the famous mad sculptor was an obsessed man. Ever since he could recall, every night when he slept, he felt he was drowning  desperately trying to breathe and save his love and himself from a watery grave.  He would get up, wet and shivering and his hands would itch to etch that beloved face.  Gradually he started sculpting that face and form that haunted and lived with him night and day.   He only drew, painted and sculpted that one particular face on every surface, material that he could lay his hands on!!  His family would collect his finished pieces and after his permission would sell them at a local gallery where his work was in great demand.  Thus his family and he survived on this dream love of his.   Valentine’s day was in two weeks’ time and he had been commissioned by his teacher who was also his guide and master to sculpt a piece that could be entered in the national competition as its prize money was half a million plus a trip to USA for entry into international art competition.    He was very keen to sculpt something unique and was looking for inspiration… 

*********************************
Sohni was the daughter of a potter named Tula, who lived in a Gujrat town in the Punjab near the banks of the Chenab on the caravan trade route between Bukhara and Delhi during late Mughal period.
 
As soon as the ‘Surahis’ (water pitchers) and mugs came off the wheels, Sohni etched floral designs transforming them into masterpieces of art.

Izzat Baig, the rich trader from Bukhara (Uzbekistan), came to India on business but when he saw the beautiful Sohni in the town of Gujrat on the Chenab in Punjab, he was completely enchanted. Instead of keeping ‘mohars’ (gold coins) in his pockets, he roamed around with his pockets full of love. Just to get a glimpse of Sohni, he would end up buying the water pitchers and mugs everyday.
Sohni lost her heart to Izzat Baig. Instead of making floral designs on earthenware, she started building castles of love in her dreams. Izzat Baig sent off his companions to Bukhara. He took up the job of a servant in the house of Tula, Sohni’s father. He would even take their buffaloes for grazing. Soon, he came to be known as “Mahiwal”(buffalo herder).  That name stayed with him for the rest of his life — and thereafter. 

When the people started spreading rumors about the love of Sohni and Mahiwal, without her consent her parents arranged her marriage with another potter.
Suddenly, one day his “barat” (marriage party) arrived at the threshold of her house. Sohni was helpless and in a poignant state. Her parents bundled her off in the doli (palanquin), but they could not pack off her love in any doli (box).
Izzat Baig renounced the world and started living like a “fakir” (hermit) in a small hut across the river. The earth of Sohni’s land was like a dargah (shrine) for him. He had forgotten his own land, his own people and his world. Taking advantage of the darkness of the night, when the world was fast asleep, Sohni would come by the riverside and Izzat Baig would swim across the river to meet her. He would regularly roast a fish and bring it for her. It is said that once, when due to high tide he could not catch a fish, Mahiwal cut a piece of his thigh and roasted it. Seeing the bandage on his thigh, Sohni opened it, saw the wound and cried.
From the next day, Sohni started swimming across the river with the help of an earthen pitcher as Izzat Baig was so badly wounded and could not swim across the river. Soon, the rumours of their romantic rendezvous spread. One-day Sohni’s sister-in-law followed her and saw the hiding place where Sohni used to keep her earthen pitcher among the bushes. Next day, the sister-in-law removed the hard baked pitcher replacing it with an unbaked one. That night, when Sohni tried to cross the river with the help of the pitcher, She discovered, to her horror, that the pitcher had begun to dissolve and disintegrate.
What shall she do now? Different thoughts rushed through Sohni’s mind. Abandon the trip?   Or continue trying to swim without the help of a pitcher — and drown? Her inner struggle at this point is  expressed

 translated   into a song  as follows:

Sohni (addressing the pitcher):

It’s dark and the river is in flood
There is water all around me
How am I going to meet Mahiwal?
If I keep going, I will surely drown
And if I turn back
I would be going back on my promise
And letting Mahiwal down
I beg you (O pitcher!), with folded hands,
Help me meet my Mahiwal
You always did it, please do it tonight, too

(The pitcher replies):

I wish I, too, were baked in the fire of love, like you are
But I am not. I apologize; I cannot help
Hearing Sohni’s cries, Mahiwal, from the other side, jumped into the river to save her. He barely managed to reach her. As the story goes, their bodies were washed ashore, and were found the next day, lying next to each other.  With their death, Sohni and Mahiwal entered into the world of legends and lore. And, in their death the sinners became saints.

The Tomb Of Sohni In Shahdapur City Sindh, which is 75 km from Hyderabad, Pakistan. According to the legend the bodies of Sohni Mahiwal were recovered from river Indus near Shahdapur and hence are buried there.

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The border between India and Pakistan had been opened and many Indians were allowed to visit historical places and also the old homes of their ancestors.  Neil’s family hailed from Uzbekistan and a few members had settled in Sindh, Pakistan.  Eagerly he boarded the ship for Karachi, Sindh.  After sightseeing to his heart’s content the cab- driver suggested that as the tomb of the famous lovers Sohni- Mahiwal was very near- would he like to see it and Neil agreed and he had time to spare before his family returned from another place.    The minute Neil entered the tomb, he felt very much at home and his agonized spirit was at once at peace.  He had arrived at his destiny.  He felt he was very close to his beloved.  Then he saw the numerous paintings on the wall of Sohni and Mahiwal and it was like déjà vu-  Mahiwal looked just like him and the face and figure he had been drawing all his life was Sohni!!!.  At once he  felt that itching in his fingers and he needed to carve something quickly.  He cut short his trip and they returned home.  Neil shut himself up in his studio and emerged after three days drained but elated.  This was his best work yet.  He had sculpted the figures of Sohni and Mahiwal in the throes of love, embracing one another and the two faces showed the ecstasy and peace of union of two loving souls and kindred spirits.  The sculpture was mesmerizing as though crafted by cupid himself!!

He won both national and international prizes.  The dreams stopped too. 

All pictures and  Sohni- Mahiwal info from internet- not mine

Amber’s Reincarnation

 Amber was a handful.  She was like a bird of paradise that had landed in a dove’s nest.  Her middle aged professor parents were rather bemused, at this unplanned delivery by Mr. Stork.  Two older sons were doctors and one was a psychologist.  Their New York home had been turned upside down by Amber!

Amber had red hair and emerald green eyes and a boyish body to match. 
Her curly top was unmanageable and to tame it brought tears in her stormy green eyes. She was volatile by nature and teetered between one crisis and another.  Her rages crested like boiling milk and subsided as quickly.  Professors Malloy were certain she was their reincarnated great aunt Tillie as Amber was her spitting image.  Dougie, Tom and Mike adored their little sister and were her adoring slaves.  Amber tried her best to ape her elder brothers and was good in all sports and could chug beer like them.  Everyone made fun of her pug nose but her gamin face with high cheekbones and wide forehead offset it well.  She’d say that having been punched in growing years that was to be expected!

Amber was four years old when the family went to Cape Cod for summer vacation.  That is when her dreams began.  Every night she would wake up screaming. In the dream she would appear to be drowning and beg for help.  The whole family was in a tizzy.  Quickly they gave her sweet chamomile tea to calm her down.  On return to New York, the psychologist brother tried to speak to her and get to know what was going on in her mind but was at a loss as he had known her all of her four years and no untoward incident came to mind.  He prescribed a very mild sedative for such episodes.

At twenty Amber was a world class painter and once the professors had discovered her talent, sky was the limit.  They had all encouraged her every step of the way and she had become a name in the city and state.  There was a brooding quality in her paintings with incredible floral designs evocative of magical Arabian deserts and the Sirocco.  She seemed like a turbulent semi tragic mix of an Irish beauty with elements of the desert wind and sandstorms swirling within.  She had been to Paris and Italy and the artist colonies in the California coast to hone her talent. 

There was a great buzz in the fine arts world about the incredible Sculpture from India by an upcoming painter Neil Sindhwani.  Amber was eager to have a look too.  She entered the circular Guggenheim Museum where the exhibition was being held and gradually made her way to the winning entry.  On seeing the lovers she turned to stone!  She knew these faces! They tormented her every time she had those awful dreams.  She had to meet this Neil guy and get to the bottom of this mystery. 

The whole Malloy clan saw the masterpiece sculpture and was enchanted by it.  Knowing that their beloved Amber had experienced a déjà vu moment, they decided it merited investigation.   Luckily the sculptor Neil Sindhwani was in New York to receive the prize.  They invited him for dinner.  Neil was intrigued and decided to accept.  

Amber was wearing her favorite green dress that offset her eyes and she looked fetching in her sheath dress.  Neil was captivated upon seeing her.  He too felt he had known her forever and at the cost of being rude, he had eyes only for her.  Amber felt the same pull.   Dougie the psychologist decided to get to the bottom of this mutual attraction.  
All preparations had been made and Amber was hypnotized and regressed.  As she was led further and further into her past, she finally became Sohni the potter’s daughter in Sind, Pakistan.   Sohni had loved a young man called Mahiwal but her father had forced her to marry another.  Their love had been so overwhelming that they met in stealth at night.  She swam across the river with the help of a fired clay pot.  Unfortunately her jealous sister in law replaced her pot with an unfired one that melted in the water and even though her lover tried to save her, they had both drowned. 

All those who were present were shook up.  Neil and Amber were those unlucky lovers from numerous lifetimes ago!

Amber decided to visit the Tomb of Sohni in Shahdapur City Sindh, which was 75 km from Hyderabad, Pakistan. According to the legend the bodies of Sohni Mahiwal were recovered from river Indus near Shahdapur and buried there.  Neil promised to accompany her family and her. 

The etchings on the tomb walls were reminiscent of Amber’s painting motifs.  This was a further proof of her reincarnation.  Her parents and Dougie were satisfied about its veracity.  Plus Amber and Neil naturally gravitated towards one another.  Once the families met and approved, they were soon married and Neil opened his own studio cum workshop in New York along with Amber.  They were a team now.  Amber’s dream was a thing of the past.  She had met her other half

pictures are from internet- disclaimer

The little boy yawned and rubbed his eyes.  It was morning already.  He pushed back the warm quilt and got out of bed.  He washed his face, combed his unruly mop and brushed his teeth.  His brain was working furiously.  He knew he had to tell a story if he has to stay another night in this inn.  That was his payment instead of money.  

There were eight eager faces seated in a circle near the fireplace.  Their eyes were
shining in anticipation.  They were the motherless children of the innkeeper who lacked their own treasure trove of tales. The word streams had passed them by as they had no mother.  Thus the innkeeper valued stories more than money.  There was pin drop silence.  The little boy began…

In the forest lived the happy family Cloude.  They were seven brothers and one sister.  They had made the forest their home after the death of their parents in the tiny German hamlet at the edge of the forest.  They built a beautiful gingerbread house made of wood and lovingly carved each piece with memories of their parents and their old picturesque home town in the Alps.  Thus they basked in the love of their friends and family as captured in the etchings carved in the wood.  The seven brothers were named after the seven colors of the rainbow violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow orange, red as per their nature.  The fearful one was yellow, the envious one green, the princely one (violet)purple, the blue one was always pining and indigo loved the ocean and the orange one had a quick temper and the red one was the bravest.  Together they formed a brotherly rainbow of love and swung their baby sister in this and cherished her like a precious pearl.  They adored her and she adored them in turn.  Her name was Rose.

“I am going to make the best bread pudding ever and surprise my colorful ones! Ha! Rose exclaimed to herself pushing back the golden curl that kept caressing her lovely brow. 

She was indeed lovely with cherry red lips, rosy cheeks, curly gold spun hair and a pert nose.  She had perfect tiny ears from which hung two shiny diamonds which glistened in the sunlight.  She made a lovely picture in her crisp white apron, ruffled dress and pink hat.  Suddenly she felt warm on the nape of her neck.  She turned and saw the most handsome man she had ever seen in her young life.  She blushed and fell headlong in love.

“Oh my god” exclaimed Aldo as he sharply reined in his horse.  “I have never seen such beauty! I am in love!”  Smartly getting off the horse Aldo goes on his knee and gallantly bows to Rose.  “Fraulein, please be kind and do tell me your name and allow me to court you as I have fallen madly in love.”  Rose says softly, “I am Rose and I too have fallen for you!” and lets Aldo kiss her hand.  Soon they are deeply in love and wish to marry.

Brothers Cloude are both happy and miserable.  They are happy as their beloved Rose is on cloud nine in joy but they are sad as they cannot bear to live without her.  Aldo is a prince and will bear her away to his palace and they will never be able to see her again.  They agree to do something.  They decide to consult the oracle.

Early morning they set forth deep into the forest.  The oracle is as ancient as time itself.  He has a long flowing beard and cape and fingers like talons with long nails. He has a crystal ball which reveals many secrets and goings on in the world.  Suddenly he tilts his head and hears the sound of galloping horses.  Someone is coming to visit.  He closes his eyes and knows who they are and what they want. 

One by one the brothers troop inside.  The oracle puts a long finger on his lips to quieten them and gestures them to come close.  He consults the crystal ball and then nods and says.” Bring me a lock of Aldo’s hair and I will make an amulet which your sister will wear.  This will make Aldo forget his past and you can all live happily ever after.”  Then with a shaking finger he thunders, “If your sister loses this amulet, you will lose her forever.”   Brother Purple rushes home stealthily and clips a lock of Aldo’s hair and brings it to the oracle.  Then they return home happily with the amulet.

Rose is very happy as she is getting married today. She claps and dances a jig.
She starts singing on the top of her voice.  It is sweet like the tinkle of a wind chime.  Her yodeling is echoed in the mountains surrounding the forest.  The fir trees clap in unison.
The forest, mountains and valleys all rejoice with Rose.  The brothers knock and enter and lovingly tie the amulet on her right arm and tell her that this will keep her safe.  Rose promises to wear it always.

Time flies on wings and Aldo and Rose have a bonny son.  They name him Hans Aldo.   There is rejoicing in the forest.  The brothers throw a big party and all the forest people come to bless and rejoice with them.   It is seven years since Rose and Aldo got married.  The elves, goblins all gather dressed in Sunday best.  The forest animals are made welcome too.   They all live like a happy family.  The tree boughs are in a happy trance and the flowers sway rhythmically to the beat of the drums.  The full moon smiles benevolently and a silver fairy alights from its moonbeam.  The evening star sends his twinkling fairy also.  The whole air is bursting with fun and frolic.

Rose and Aldo are dancing one last German Polka when the amulet falls off and is lost in the dirt kicked up by all the dancing.  Aldo stops suddenly and shakes his head.  He is as though in a trance.  He forgets the present and only remembers the past.  Abruptly he leaves the forest on his horse at a gallop.  Rose swoons in a dead faint.  The party is over.

The brothers are greatly disturbed and sad.  They feel guilty that due to their own selfish love they had kept Aldo from his loved ones and now even their beloved Rose was sad.
They seek the oracle once again.

The oracle consults the crystal ball and tells them that during these seven years, Aldo’s father the king had passed away in grief and his subjects had been searching for their prince high and low.  Now that Aldo has returned, he has been crowned the King and the Queen mother wants him to marry a princess.  But Aldo is sad and is always touching his chain which has a cameo of Rose.  He wants to find his beloved.  But he has no memory of the past seven years.  The oracle gives them a magic potion that when sprinkled will help Aldo regain his memory fully and his past and present will merge

Next morning the Cloude family leave on a string of horses with Rose seated on her favorite horse with baby Hans.   They travel high and low but cannot find Aldo.  Rose is pining away and they are very sad.  Dispirited they travel deeper into the forest when suddenly the ground gives way and they find themselves in a strange cave. 

The cave is very dark and mysterious.  A flapping sound makes their horses jump.  They are jumpy themselves.  Then they see two glowing sharp eyes zeroing in on them.  They belong to a man dressed in a long brown cape, a bowler hat with a pipe in his mouth.  His nose is hawk-like and his square chin makes him look like a man of determination.  He introduced himself as “Sherlock Holmes’.  He is the world famous detective from Baker Street, London, England.  From behind emerges a chunky gentleman who extends his hand saying “I am Dr. Watson” Then Holmes asks them if he they needed his help.  Eldest brother then tells the whole sorry tale and begs for help in finding Aldo as Rose was slowing dying in grief.   Holmes says “Aha! It is elementary my dear Purple Cloude.   Just blindfold Rose and her loving heart will direct you to its other half that is waiting to join it.  You see the heart always knows” Then the cave vanishes in thin air and the brothers find themselves back in the forest.

Next morning they decide to follow Sherlock Holmes’s advice and blindfold Rose.  In a very short time they reach Aldo’s kingdom.    They tether their horses nearby and make their way towards the palace.  Meanwhile Aldo is already headed in their direction propelled by his grieving heart.  Soon he comes close to them but as his memory is lost he does not recognize them.  Quickly the brothers sprinkle the magic potion and Aldo comes to his senses.  His past and present join up just like Rose and his heart come together in love.  He carries his son now Crown Prince Hans in his arms and joyously gallops towards the Queen mother.  Happiness reigns thereafter.

© binagupta., all rights reserved.

 
***   ***    ***

Sheila
 
Sheila was Yogi’s mother and a widow.  She was very attractive and still retained her perfect form and lovely voice.  The only thing that had changed was her bubbly happy go lucky spirit.  She had now become more quiet and pensive.  She had gotten married to an army officer of her parent’s choice and had been relatively happy.  Her heart however belonged to her childhood sweetheart Amar Pundit and she had always thought they would get married one day.  But as fate would have it Amar died in a freak road accident and Sheila was inconsolable.  She almost lost her mind in grief.  The family out of concern quickly got her married to a family friend’s son who adored Sheila.  Yogi was born soon after.  He had been fathered by Amar but only Sheila knew about it.  India was at war with Pakistan and as luck would have it; her husband was killed in the very first sortie.  Sheila returned to her parent’s home carrying her infant son.  She did not wish to get remarried or leave her home ever again.  The family had a huge barnyard of a house and Sheila was welcome to stay.  She was the only sister to four older brothers and they all loved her.
Sheila decided to hone her singing skills.  She approached the revered Pandit Jairaj of the famous Hindustani gharana.  The guruji put her through her paces and reasonably appeased, accepted her as a student.  Guruji was a very hard taskmaster but Sheila did not shirk and won over the guruji in a short time. 

Pandit Jairaj was often invited to sing at prestigious events and often he invited Sheila along.  Occasionally he even let her give solo performances.  Thus gradually Sheila gained self confidence and then after three years, she decided to strike out on her own with her guru’s blessing.   Sheila loved to experiment and loved fusing old with the new.  Her first solo disc was sent to the local radio station and soon it caught the fancy of the young and old alike.  Her compact disc (cd) became a hit.  Sheila has arrived.  Subsequently she made several new cds with her own brand of fusion music and lyrics and they sold well as she had become known by then.  She even gave solo concerts.  Thus Sheila became financially independent and well able to care for Yogi and herself.  But she loved her old home and never left it.  Banaras had a strong hold on her.  She belonged.
 
***   ***   ***

Amar
 
Amar Pundit’s lineage was a veritable who’s who amongst the learned savants and sages of Banaras.  His family was very orthodox and traditional and conversant in all the holy texts and Vedas.  Amar was the second son and hence when he strayed from the family fold, there wasn’t much opposition.  He wanted to be an astronaut and was pursuing his career accordingly.  Sheila and he were school friends and had gravitated towards one another from day one.  Opposites attract as they say.  Amar was the quiet one and Sheila was the chatterbox.  Amar loved chess, Sheila loved tennis. Amar loved the library, Sheila loved the movies.  Thus each one gained from the other.  Amar however was extremely good looking and had a strong lithe body.  He loved to do yoga first thing in the morning.  He was in perfect shape and swam life a fish.  He had great discipline and strength of mind.  Sheila’s family loved him like a son.  Often they would be seen on the roof of the house where Amar would point out all the constellations and then point out to that one particular star which he said belonged to only the two of them.  Laughingly he would say, once he became an astronaut, he would take her there.  He was crazy about astronomy and dreamed of visiting faraway galaxies and planets.
 
***   ***   ***
 
As far back as he could recall Amar had that same recurring dream.  He would find himself prostrate before a huge gold Buddha statue in a subterranean cave in a remote mountain.  Ancient Tibetan chants washed over him and he seemed to be mouthing the same with fervor.   All he’d recall upon waking up was that he felt energized and at peace after this dream.  In his spare time, he took to researching Buddhist texts to find an answer.   Often in his dreams, he also saw his head in the cosmos and the planets and stars rotating and revolving around him!  He would awake all shook up and perplexed after this particular dream.
 
****   ***   ****

The Monk

To free my mind
I sit to unwind
Detached from tree
A mere leaf I be
Can hold neither them nor me
Time and tide I ever be
Stilling mind I sit still
Lotus pose daily drill
Mind’s activity to abate
Ever wiping its slate
Detached thoughtless
Purposeless- nirvana
To free mind
I sit to unwind
A monk I be!

When meditation is mastered, the mind is unwavering
 Like the flame of a lamp in a windless place.
Bhagavad-Gita Gita
***   ****   ***

The Monk

 
The head monk Tenzin Rinchen who was the senior most amongst the yellow hat sect was dying.  All the senior monks had been summoned to pay their last respects and get final instructions.  There were five of them in all and now they had to follow old traditions and after suitable visions and divination, they would find the home where the head monk had reincarnated.
 
***   ***  ***
 
The lake was like a blue turquoise studded in the pristine Himalayas.  The monks gathered early in the morning mists.  They chanted the sacred prayers paying obeisance to invoke the Goddess Kali of the lake.  Finally after exact one hundred eight minutes the Goddess appeared on the surface of the lake and pointed towards the foothills and Ganges valley- there seemed to appear a glowing light in the sky showing the direction they should take.  Quickly they noted the latitude and longitude and the constellations and after final prayer, they headed back to the cave.  There they collected the sacred relics and some personal objects belonging to the venerable yellow hat and began their quest.

Two of the monks Yongten and Tsewang  were sent on this mission and the other three stayed back to prepare for the anointment of the reincarnated one.  They had many secret ceremonies to perform.
 
***   ***   ***
 
Yongten and Tsewang got up early in the morning to take a dip in the holy lake and ask for blessing from Goddess Kali.  Then they were on their way following the direction of the holy light as was manifested by Kali.  They carried with them a sacred lamp.  When the glow was strong they knew they were on the right track but if the lamp’s glow weakened, and then they knew they had to turn back.  This was their compass of faith.  They lived off the fruits in the forest and if some kindly villager invited them over they accepted their invitations.  This gave them an opportunity to know about the village and its people.  They usually turned their conversation to children with uncommon abilities and grace.  So far they had struck out.  They did not lose heart but pressed on.  Soon they entered the forest leading to the city of Banaras.

***   ****   ***
 
Yogi was seated on a tree branch and as usual was in deep reverie.  Some ancient chants and Sanskrit slokas continuously played in his head.  Of its own volition, he started writing these in the dirt in front of his feet and then suddenly he wrote the letters Y and T.
He came to and looked at what he had written but was mystified.  He had no clue.  But he was aware that something momentous was about to take place which would change his life forever.  His inner spirit was beckoning the two monks Yongten and Tsewang. 
 

***   ***   ***
 
Yogi’s mother Sheila was having strange dreams.  She saw Yogi dressed in flowing saffron robe with tonsured head seated on a high dais.  People were prostrated before him and were chanting ancient hymns.  She too found herself bowing to her son!  She was confused.  How? What? Why?  She knew in her guts that her son was different and his destiny was preordained.  Only she did not know when that would happen.  She also felt pangs of separation from him which she quelled fiercely.  She bided time nevertheless.
 
***   ***   ***
 
Yongsten and Tsewang lighted their lamp to determine if they were on the right track.  The lamp glowed brightly.  They were reassured.  Quickly they settled down for the night in the dilapidated hut they had come across in the forest.   They would leave early and head for the great city of Banaras.

***   ***   ***

Banaras*
Mystic Banaras city of Shiva and sanctity, resting on left bank of the holy river Ganga is the Hindu’s center for nirvana. It is believed here in Banaras Lord Shiva and his consort Parvati stood when time started ticking for the first time. A plethora of folklore is associated with this ancient city.  Varanasi has found place in the Buddhist scriptures as well as the great Hindu epic of Mahabharata.  ‘Kashi’ signifies that it is a ‘site of spiritual luminance.’  It is the city of the dead, the undead and rebirth.

***   ***  ***
Monks Yongten and Tsewang
The two monks resumed their quest through the forest.   Soon they experienced a subtle change in the air and in the flora and fauna.  This part had strong vibrations and the trees were greener and flowers brighter.  They knew they were headed in the right direction.  Their bent shoulders straightened and their gait gathered speed.  They felt rejuvenated.  They confirmed by lighting their special lamp and the flame was strong and steady.  They smiled satisfied.
At the edge of the forest they came across a sprawling house.  Involuntarily their eyes looked up and espied a young boy standing in the roof.  He was calm and looking towards them as though expecting them.  It appeared as though he had beckoned them here.  They were compelled to bow towards the child!  Gathering themselves they entered the courtyard. 

Yogi’s cousins surrounded the monks and as was customary invited them inside and ran to fetch the elders.  The monks were served with a simple repast and then everyone gathered to know about them.  They plied them with questions about where they were from and where were they headed.  The monks exchanged glances and then asked about the child on the roof.  Instantly everyone knew they were enquiring about Yogi.  Quickly the cousins ran to fetch Yogi and Sheila.
Sheila’s heart was pounding.  She felt it in her bones that something momentous was about to take place.  She felt bereft and elated.
With unhurried steps, Yogi descended the staircase and entered the living room.  He quietly sat down in front of the two monks with an impassive demeanor.  The monks seemed nonplussed at first.

Then they asked to speak with the boy’s parents.  Sheila came forward saying she was a widow.  Then the monks spoke about their quest and the passing away of their head monk and subsequent reincarnation.  They had come to fetch their master home.  They said they had been guided to this house and were certain the child Yogi was their master.
The whole family was wonderstruck except Sheila.  Then grudgingly they too felt that this statement felt just right.  Yogi had always seemed removed from them.  He belonged on a different plane altogether.  Then the monks in order to clinch this matter conducted the ancient tests as was customary.  Yogi passed all the tests without faltering for a second.   Yongten and Tsewang were satisfied.  The head monk Tenzin Rinchen had reincarnated as Yogi.
Now came the hard part.  They had to take the child away from his family.  Sheila felt all torn up inside.  Yet she knew that this was Yogi’s destiny.  He was destined for greater things in the service of humanity.
He was going home.

 
note:* Banaras aka Varanasi, Kashi info. and picture from internet

Hindustani gharana: particular style of singing

Ahorangi’s beauty was at its peak.  She had sea green eyes and a lithe brown body that oozed sexual energy.  She was a magnetic allure with hidden valleys and perilous plateaux. Younger men of the tribe only dared to venture into this paradise in their dreams.  Ahorangi was the high priestess of the tribe, a savant who communed with nature, the elements and forest spirits.  She was also a healer and her finger tips oozed energy that could soothe or sear.  No one dared to mess with her.

The forest was a beehive of activity.  The monkeys, trapeze artists that they were, swung on high from one tree limb to another.  The chameleons were lazing in siesta mode on branches after bellyful of succulent insect dinner.  Their threadlike tongues darted in and out in bliss as though burping.  The gnarled old tree housed birds of paradise and looked like a patchy rainbow umbrella.  The belly of the tree trunk housed a family of owls with two nestlings.  The adult owls fiercely protected their offspring from foxes and feral cats

hurriedly honing their self preservation and hunting skills.  The python simply hung around listening to the chatter. Huge bright butterflies daintily hovered over flowers like mini ballerinas.  Wild mushrooms grew here and there.  Toads and tadpoles riveted all over the creek nearby seated on lily pads.  The tribal huts were standing in semi circle in a huge clearing but did not appear intrusive as they blended into the forest as if they belonged. 

Tiny Maya was biting her quivering lips as tears threatened to spill out of her bewildered eyes.  Today step mom Lila had been more cruel than usual.  Her step brother Nandu had given his lunch box to Maya who had not eaten in two days.  Four year old Nandu did not understand why Maya who was older by a year was not fed properly.  All she got was abuses and curses like “Wish you had perished with your mother.! One less mouth to feed” Lila would shout once too often.  Maya would curl up within herself attempting to become invisible.

Five year old Maya was small built.  She wore hand me downs, had a curly top, large brown wide set eyes and had two front teeth missing.  She still looked cherubic and being sunny by nature, tried to make the best of her unpleasant life.  Their father was a clerk at the local bank and a harassed henpecked of a man.  Only once in a blue moon he would ruffle Maya’s hair and give her a guilty forlorn look.  Maya would even welcome this sliver of love and hug him tight.  The only real love she been given was by granny who had lived in a tiny hut nearby but who had now joined her departed daughter, Maya’s mom.  Granny had luckily fed her well as long as she was alive and even groomed her curly rebellious top.  Now she felt truly orphaned.  Maya decided to runaway as she was so unwanted.  She walked and walked until she reached the forest.  After walking a bit more, she fell asleep under the gnarled old tree. 

The decibel level in the forest had risen very high.  Every creature was jabbering away.  They were all curious to know who she was.  Ahorangi heard this commotion and decided to investigate.  Somehow she felt it in her heart that she had arrived.  Ahorangi by her divination had been waiting for this little girl.  She was the chosen one and the predictions had been made when Ahorangi herself was a young girl.  She could safely pass on her knowledge and powers to this worthy one.  She had to test her and then train her in the tribal ways.

Maya opened her eyes and found herself looking at a beautiful lady.  Her clothes were odd but she saw love in her eyes.  Maya said “are you the one granny had promised to send from heaven?”.  Ahorangi nods and asks her name. When Maya tells her name, Ahorangi is happy as per the prediction it had to begin with “M” Then she gently takes Maya’s hand and turns it  palm side up.  She reads her lines and is delighted.  The last test was that special “chant” which she had to know.  She says, child did your grandmother teach you any song or a lullaby?  Maya nods and starts chanting in a sing song way “  Om Mani Padme Hum,  Om Mani Padme Hum, Om Mani Padme Hum and then next   om amogha vairocana mahamudra manipadma jvala pravarttaya hum

Ahorangi was satisfied.  Maya had kept her tryst with destiny.  The future high priestess had come home.

The Jungle celebrated her arrival with fun and frolic dancing to the lilting songs sung by the mesmerising Ahorangi and Maya clapped in delight.  She was laughing wholeheartedly for the first time in her life.  She forgot her past.  Nandu was the only one who missed her.  Soon this memory too faded.

(pictures from internet)

*(1)Om Mani Padme Hum

Tibetan Buddhists believe that saying the mantra (prayer), Om Mani Padme Hum, out loud or silently to oneself, invokes the powerful benevolent attention and blessings of Chenrezig, the embodiment of compassion. Viewing the written form of the mantra is said to have the same effect — it is often carved into stones, like the one pictured above, and placed where people can see them. 

Spinning the written form of the mantra around in a Mani wheel (or prayer wheel) is also believed to give the same benefit as saying the mantra, and Mani wheels, small hand wheels and large wheels with millions of copies of the mantra inside, are found everywhere in the lands influenced by Tibetan Buddhism.

*(2) om amogha vairocana mahamudra manipadma jvala pravarttaya hum

The translation of this mantra is Praise be to the unfailing, all-pervasive illumination of the  great mudra (or seal of the Buddha), the jewel, the lotus, and the radiant light turning (or existing in our world). It is believed in Shingon Buddhism that if one chants this mantra without ego, and with sincere devotion and clarity of mind,  Vairocana Buddha will place his seal upon the chanter, thus dispelling all ignorance and delusion.

*Tibetan chants from internet(wiki)