Cars, Clothes And Houses

I could see that she was terrified. The whites of her eyes showed above her eyeballs and she spoke in a whispering, child like voice.

I saw her near her bed in the female ward at the hospice, hunched over in pain. I rubbed her back and shoulders for some time and asked if she would like to lie down. And she did.

She appeared to be in her late thirties, dark skinned with a round baby face. Her head had been shaven, maybe two months ago and the hair was growing back. A big maroon bindi adorned her forehead. She spoke in fairly good Hindi though she was from Andhra Pradesh.

I learnt that she had been living in Bangalore for the last seven years with her family. Her husband was a carpenter and they had two sons.The older one was in tenth standard and the younger was in seventh.

The disease had struck six months ago and they had done the rounds of many hospitals before being sent here. She had been here for two weeks now. Her home was far from the hospice. Her husband and children came to see her on weekends.

She spoke of them in whispers. They were so young, her children."Mera ghar, mere bachhe."(my home, my children). She told me that she felt as though a hand was clutching her heart, squeezing it tightly, making it hard for her to breathe. I stayed with her fear for some time, her terror of losing all that was familiar and dear to her.

I have found that the only thing which provides solace at this time is spirituality. For there is really no other way. At least, I do not know of any other way. The notion, that I am not the disease ravaged body, but its occupier, that  I will not be touched by the disease and will move on,  provides relief.

 I tried to explain this to this simple, uneducated, childlike woman. She did not know anything about spirituality or religion. The word 'atma' (soul) was unknown to her. So I tried analogies.

I spoke of her body as a car and she or her real self as the driver. When the car gets old and malfunctions, what does the driver do? She replied that he steps out of the old car and takes another one.The wear and tear of the car does not have any effect on the driver.

Or the clothes she wore. When they became old, faded, torn, she would replace them with new ones. So she is the wearer while the body is only a garment.To be discarded when unwearable and easily replaceable.

Another example was of her being a tenant in a house which becomes dilapidated and old. I asked her what she would do and she said she would move out and seek a new home.And so the soul seeks and occupies another body to reside in.

She knew of Krishna and so I spoke of the eternal and indestructible nature of the soul as described by Him in Gita. That it goes on and on and nothing can harm it. It is neither born nor dies. And she is that soul and not the body.

She smiled and said it felt good to talk to me. I asked her if the fear had reduced and she said, "A little."

I asked her to show me who she was, by gesturing and not verbally. She placed her right hand on her chest. On the exact location of the spiritual heart centre. I said to her that whenever she felt fear, she could place her hand on her chest and say, "Yeh main hoon."(this is me ) Because  that is who she really is, and not the body.

And I marveled that almost all human beings, of whatever age, caste or creed, when asked to show who they are by gesturing, respond in the same way.  We do not indicate the face or the head though its primarily that which identifies us. We place our hand on the spiritual heart centre, the core of our being.

When I saw her the week after, she was sitting outside her ward. I went to her, pinched her baby cheeks and asked how she was and if she was afraid. She said no, she was not. And then she placed her hand on her chest, smiled at me and said in her childlike voice, "yeh ham hai." ( this is me).