«This all took place at night with only one witness, the moon, who found the event
hilarious. Enraged, Ganesha cursed the moon and banished him from the universe.
However, the whole world lamented the moon`s absence, and an assembly of gods asked
Lord Shiva, Ganesha`s father, to persuade him to relent. The penitent moon also
apologized for his misbehavior. Finally, Ganesha modified his curse and announced that
the moon need be invisible only one day a month, partially visible the remainder of the
month, and for one day only would be permitted to be visible in its full glory.»
A brief silence and Vijay added, «And now you know why the moon plays a role in
Lord Ganesha festivals.»
«Thank you for that explanation.»
«My name is Vijay, Vijay Pande.»
«And mine is Pam, Pam Swanvil. What a delightful story, and what a fantastical
droll god—that elephant head and Buddha body. And yet the villagers seem to take their
myths so seriously...as though they were really—”
«It`s interesting to consider the iconography of Lord Ganesha,” Vijay gently
interrupted as he pulled from his shirt a large neck pendant on which was carved the
image of Ganesha. «Please note that every feature on Ganesha has a serious meaning, a
life instruction. Consider the large elephant head: it tells us to think big. And the large
ears? To listen more. The small eyes remind us to focus and to concentrate and the small
mouth to talk less. And I do not forget Ganesha`s instruction—even at this moment as I
talk to you I remember his counsel and I warn myself not to talk too much. You must
help by telling me when I tell you more than you wish to know.»
«No, not at all. I`m most interested in your comments on iconography.»
«There are many others; here, look closer—we Indians are very serious people.»
He reached into the leather bag he wore on his shoulder and held out a small magnifying
lens.
Taking the glass, Pam leaned over to peer at Vijay`s pendant. She inhaled his
aroma of cinnamon and cardamon and freshly ironed cotton cloth. How was it possible
for him to smell so sweet and so fresh in the close dusty train compartment? «He has only
one tusk,” she observed.
«Meaning: retain the good, throw away the bad.»
«And what`s that he holds? An ax?»
«To cut off all bonds of attachment.»
«That sounds like Buddhist doctrine.»
«Yes, remember that the Buddha emerged from the mother ocean of Shiva.»
«And Ganesha holds something in the other hand. It`s hard to see. A thread?»
«A rope to pull one ever closer to your highest goal.»
The train suddenly lurched and began to move forward.
«Our vehicle is alive again,” said Vijay. «Note Ganesha`s vehicle—there under his
foot.»
Pam moved closer to look through the lens and inhale Vijay`s scent discreetly.
«Oh, yes, the mouse. I`ve seen it in every statue and painting of Ganesha. I`ve never
known why a mouse.»
«That`s the most interesting attribute of all. The mouse is desire. You may ride it
but only if you keep it under control. Otherwise it causes havoc.»
Pam fell silent. As the train chugged on past scrawny trees, occasional temples,
water buffalo in muddy ponds, and farms whose red soil had been exhausted by
thousands of years of work, she looked at Vijay and felt a wave of gratitude. How
unobtrusively, how gently, he had taken out his pendant and saved her from the
embarrassment of speaking irreverently about his religion. When had she ever been so
graced by a man? But no, she reminded herself, don`t shortchange other dear men. She
thought about her group. There was Tony, who would do anything for her. And Stuart,
too, could be generous. And Julius, whose love seemed unending. But Vijay`s subtlety—
that was uncommon, that was exotic.
And Vijay? He too fell into a reverie, reviewing his conversation with Pam.
Uncommonly excited, his heart raced, and he sought to calm himself. Opening his leather
shoulder pouch, he took out an old wrinkled cigarette package, not to smoke—the
package was empty, and besides he had heard of how peculiar Americans were about
smoking. He merely wished to study the blue–and–white package, which bore the
silhouette of a man wearing a top hat and, in firm black letters, the brand name, The
Passing Show.
One of his first religious teachers had called his attention to the Passing Show, a
brand of cigarettes his father smoked, and instructed him to begin his meditation by
thinking of all of life as a passing show, a river carrying all objects, all experience, all
desires, past his unswerving attention. Vijay meditated on the image of a flowing river
and listened to his mind`s soundless words,anitya, anitya —impermanence. Everything is
impermanent, he reminded himself; all of life and all experience glide by as surely and
irrevocably as the passing landscape seen through the train window. He closed his eyes,
breathed deeply, and rested his head upon his seat; his pulse slowed as he entered the
welcome harbor of equanimity.
Pam, who had been eyeing Vijay discreetly, picked up the wrapping that had fallen
to the floor, read the label, and said, «The Passing Show—that`s an unusual name for
cigarettes.»
Vijay slowly opened his eyes and said, «As I said, we Indians are very serious.
Even our cigarette packages have messages for the conduct of life. Lifeis a passing
show—I meditate on that whenever I feel inner turbulence.»
«Is that what you were just doing a minute ago? I should not have disturbed you.»
Vijay smiled and gently shook his head. «My teacher once said that one can not be
disturbed by another. It is only oneself who can disturb one`s equanimity.» Vijay
hesitated, realizing even as it happened that he was awash in desire: he so craved the
attention of his traveling companion that he had turned his meditation practice into a
mere curiosity—all for the sake of a smile from this lovely woman who was simply an
apparition, part of the passing show, soon to pass out of his life and to dissolve into the
nonbeing of the past. And knowing, too, that his next words would only take him farther
from his path, Vijay nonetheless rashly plunged ahead.
«There is something I would like to say: I shall long treasure our meeting and our
conversation. Shortly I shall depart from this train to an ashram where I must face silence
for the next ten days, and I am immeasurably grateful for the words we have exchanged,
the moments we have shared. I am reminded of American prison films where the
condemned man is permitted to order anything he wishes for his last meal. May I say that
I have had my wishes for a last conversation fully granted.»
Pam simply nodded. Rarely at a loss for words, she did not know how to respond
directly to Vijay`s courtliness. «Ten days at an ashram? Do you mean Igatpuri? I`m on
my way there to a retreat.»
«Then we have the same destination and the same goal—to be taught Vipassana
meditation by the honored guru Goenka. And very soon, too—it is the next stop.»
«Did you say вЂten days of silence`?»
«Yes, Goenka always requires noble silence—aside from necessary discussions
with the staff, the students are to utter no words. Are you experienced in meditation?»
Pam shook her head no. «I`m a university professor. I teach English literature, and
last year one of my students had a healing and transformative experience at Igatpuri. This
student has become very active in organizing Vipassana retreats in the United States and
is currently helping to plan an American tour by Goenka.»
«Your student hoped to offer her teacher a gift. She wished that you, too, would
undergo a transformation?»
«Well, something like that. It wasn`t that she felt I needed to change some