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MAY 30

This time, the Russians left the hotel wearing Indian shirts and sandals. It was six o'clock in the morning. Igor hired a taxi that would take him to the villages surrounding Patna. He had also scheduled visits to Pusa and Darbhanga. If time allowed, he would stop at Madhubani, almost at the border with Nepal, some 120 miles from Katmandu. According to Grigori's brown book, this was one of the "cultural crossroads" that bustled with un-official, mystical associations that were undergoing constant change.

At seven o'clock, Yuri entered the ashram where he had found Tensing. Two monks greeted him courteously and escorted him to the room where he had chatted with the lama the day before. Nothing appeared to have changed -- in spite of Igor's upheaval. As he reflected on the differences between this ashram and the conventional ones, a door quietly opened. Tensing suddenly appeared behind Yuri and startled him.

"Your Excellency," said Yuri, "I greet you and deeply apologize for my friend's behavior yesterday."

The lama seated himself in his customary place and invited Tokarev to make himself at home. A monk immediately entered, carrying buttered tea; he greeted them ceremoniously and then disappeared.

"Misunderstandings happen every day, Mr..."

"Tokarev," Yuri responded.

"Yes, Mr. Tokarev, they are everyday events. Nevertheless, because of that confusion I have the pleasure of speaking with you again. I think you would have returned here anyway," continued Tensing, as he sipped slowly on his tea. "You would have returned, either because you would have received the medallion that I tried to send to you, or simply because you did not ask what you needed to know. Yesterday, I was the one who did all the talking, trying to clarify some topics that I thought would interest you."

Yuri sipped on his tea; he felt confused by the lama's mysterious way of speaking.

"You can ask anything you want, Mr. Tokarev, don't hold anything back," said Tensing.

"Excellency, I am a professor of comparative religions at Moscow University. Since you are teaching similar subjects in Amsterdam, I think we will be able to use the same jargon, and this will make our conversation easier."

Yuri stopped for a minute; he was having trouble discovering exactly what he wanted to discuss. The lama noticed Yuri's distress and was very understanding.

"Professor, you can rest assured that I will try to answer your questions as completely as possible. Don't hold back."

"Very well, then. What exactly did you mean by saying that 'a slender line connects the centers of initiation in the world. The Himalayas have already given their message'? Sir, I am quoting you word for word, I wrote this down in my field notes.

"First of all," replied Tensing, "I will say something that is not easy to accept. The centers of initiation correspond to places where religious practices and knowledge have attained their highest level. These are not centers of information, like universities. They will not be discovered very easily, because people have very different pre-conceptions about these things."

Yuri realized that the lama was now speaking very directly, without mystery. This prompted him to bring out his notebook and begin to write.

"In the vicinity of the Himalayas," Tensing continued, "near Mount Ararat, in the Andes, and in some other spots we can find these centers that remain connected. You probably know about the legend of Mount Meru. This mountain does not exist in any precise location. It is, very simply, the mountain that unites the earth with the heavens. The centers of initiation usually correspond to a physical landscape that evokes the mental landscape of Mount Meru. Something similar happens with the underground cities of Agharti and Shambala. They connect with 'the hells.' And yet they do not exist at a physical level. They are mental."

Yuri was nervously taking notes, even as he tried to unravel the connection with Grigori's expedition to Mt. Ararat. What was even more surprising was that the committee had instructed Tokarev to investigate the vicinities of the Himalayas and the Andes -- yet it was Yuri himself who had originally proposed these areas. Yuri was finding it very difficult to follow the explanations.

"Mount Meru," continued Tensing, "produces strong spiritual upheavals when the time is right. Nobody can see Mt. Meru unless he first asks 'permission' from one of its guardians. These guardians are not physical either, they are mental. Nevertheless, whoever is searching needs some physical presence to be correctly guided through the labyrinths of his or her own consciousness." Tensing paused for a moment, and then continued, "Remember this piece of advise: do not be fooled by appearances. A great teacher can have a humble station in life, he may be a sudra. On the other hand, a widely respected spiritual leader may be far removed from true knowledge. Don't search for spiritual leaders who are widely recognized and accepted, search for those whom they persecute. If you had lived during the time when the great spiritual masters began to preach, you would not have recognized them because they did not look like religious people. They were messengers from Mount Meru. They were messengers from the same human mind that launched them towards the world. Without them, the human being would have remained helpless amid the shadows of his own mind."

"Your Excellency," Yuri interrupted, "what do you mean by saying that the mind launches messengers to the world?"

"Well, living beings create defense mechanisms. Try to see the mind as a living being. Imagine that it is at the brink of insanity. Then, from the luminous peaks of Mount Meru, messengers will fly out. They are the carriers of the light, the same ones who guide the mind when it separates itself from the physical body, when we are overwhelmed with the illusion of death."

The lama studied Yuri silently as Yuri continued taking notes; he continued writing for a long time after the last words had been spoken. Yuri was not only writing what the lama was saying, but also his own thoughts about the light. That light he had seen at the end of the tunnel, before feeling he had become separated from his physical body. There, back at the chamber of sensory deprivation.

"Excellency, " Yuri remarked suddenly, "my training does not allow me to adequately follow your explanations. I'm sure you understand, it is a problem with the choice of words and with differing interpretations... but I am sure about one thing: what you are explaining to me now is useful for the research that has been personally assigned to me."

Tensing smiled, and warmly replied, "Professor, you are a good man, and have a great deal of force, but you still do not know what you are looking for, and this is most extraordinary. How can you conduct research without knowing what it is that you are researching?"

Tokarev felt self-conscious, and responded mechanically: "I am searching for symptoms of a mystical upheaval that might appear at any moment in the world, producing an imbalance in the current world situation."

"You should be glad, Professor Tokarev," Tensing replied, "this upheaval is already beginning... like what happens when masses of ice give way, and rivers begin to rush, dragging everything in their path. The same thing happens when the mind becomes liberated. Later on, the waters become clear and are used to irrigate the fields..."

Yuri shrugged, and held his breath. Then he heard himself asking, in a high-pitched voice, "Excellency, what do you understand by Doctrine?"

"Doctrine is the teaching of all Buddhas," the lama replied.

After this response, Yuri decided to conclude the interview. He felt slightly cheated, and something similar to indignation was growing inside of him. However, he controlled himself and said, "Excellency, I hope that I did not bother you with my questions. I greatly appreciate your guidance."

The lama bowed his head, then opened a chest, produced a medallion, and placed it in Yuri's hand.

"Give this to the guardian, if you wish to see Mount Meru," he concluded.

Yuri looked at the sculptured jade medallion, and he was able to see an equilateral triangle inside a circle. After thanking the lama, he stood up and then remarked, with an undertone of sarcasm, "Your Excellency, perhaps someday I will be able to correctly understand what you have explained. I bow before you." He bowed respectfully and left the room.

Back on the street, Yuri decided to look around the city. Several hours went by, yet he found nothing of meaning, only curiosities. Curiosities, like a hand emerging from the sand; intrigued passerbies would throw a few coins at it. He also saw a man perched on a tall column who would empty his bowels onto the street below, sometimes over a careless pedestrian. Yuri was told that the fakir had been there for over ten years. Every day someone would raise a bamboo pole to give him water and a bowl of rice. He had learned how to fasten himself to weather the storms. But someday he would fall, dried up by the sun, a pile of bones and rags. There was another man with varicose veins who was always standing. He would sleep on his feet, resting against a swing, and he had not moved from this spot for years. Sick people, malnourished people, blind men, madmen, ascetics, and fakirs in this nation that had given so much to the world.

"Truly, religion is the opiate of the masses," Yuri thought to himself, as he watched the remains of an old man who had recently died from malnutrition. Someone would throw this body onto a cart, but perhaps no one would pay the wood needed for his cremation. And the children always crying: "Johnny, money, money!" What could these 600 million people do? Devour all the cows in a single day? The cows -- sacred or not -- at least provided milk, and also a bit of butter and cheese. Fortunately, India did have lands and an agricultural program. Indeed, but the land was exhausted after four thousand years of cultivation. Where was the technology and the fertilizers that were so urgently needed?

What a contrast! On the one hand, a powerful State armed with nuclear weapons -- and the people on the brink of starvation. Then there was the caste system -- legally abolished -- still surviving, inevitably, like always. India had many centers of enormous wealth, cultural centers, factories, and universities... yet none of this was able to save the old man who had recently died, and perhaps no one would pay for his funeral pyre.

Alexander the Great came here. Nothing of Alexander nor of his empire remains -- only the memories. The Mongols were here also, and others, and still others. And nothing remains. And when the Europeans tried to dominate India, she sat down like a sacred cow and remained motionless, defeating her conquerors with that silence that has spanned millennia. Perhaps, when human history comes to an end, over this map that looks like a giant heart, the Indian people will still remain alive... The Buddha's wheel of compassion began to roll here in India, because he saw illness, old age, and death. Gandhi himself had done as much as he possibly could, in his own way. So, this illustrious Professor Tokarev... what could he teach to the nation of India?

The vain professor from Moscow University was suddenly moved by a great love for this country, and for her beleaguered people. He felt a warm sensation in his chest, he felt once again a feeling of humility, the same humility that he had experience as a child, when he listened to his mother relate legends and tales...

Hours went by, and night came. Yuri had not been able to find anything important during his long walk though the city.

Yuri was now back at the hotel, working on his notes, when the door opened.

Igor spoke sadly, "Professor, I fulfilled everything we planned, but I was not able to find any leads whatsoever." Igor remained standing by the door, unsure about coming in.

"Come on, Igor, come on," said Yuri, "sometimes it is impossible to find something that does not exist." Yuri was trying to raise Igor's spirits. "Have you eaten?"

Igor closed the door, walked over and sat down next to Tokarev.

"Yes, of course I've eaten. How did everything go for you today?"

"The same as it went for you. We are done with this. Tomorrow we will leave for Calcutta and there we will see what can be done."

Igor perceived that his friend was deeply disappointed and began to clown around. He jumped up, he rearranged the chairs, the pillows, the partition. Then he began to walk around, gesturing, imitating various characters he had encountered today.

"Oh," he cried out in a woman's voice, "I've experience the profound peace of Paradise in the ashrams! Venerable gentlemen, green pastures, blissful melodies, sandalwood, incense..." Igor pretended to blush and covered his face coyly.

"Eastern Greetings!" Igor declared, bowing to the floor with his palms pressed against each other. "Words of love! Everything is 'love'. Monkeys, birds, Indian children, a bull -- these are the decorations de riguer for the photograph that will appear on the desk of some bank executive in London, or a psychiatrist in Zurich. But better still is the photograph of the guru, personally autographed, for only $100 a pop!"

Igor was now sitting on top of Yuri's desk, in the lotus posture. He had wrapped a towel around his head to resemble a turban. Some dark glasses emphasized his farcical air of mystery. Yuri was watching him, smiling. To end his performance, Igor took some books, his turban, and Yuri's notes, and threw them up in the air.

"Oh, Shiva!" he yelled out, "How beautiful the snows of Moscow!"

The two men laughed together like old friends. The window was still open, and the first drops of rain began to fall over Patna.

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