Thursday, July 17, 2014

Pleading My Case

Last year in Mayapur...

The cold seeped into my fingers. I stitched away at the delicate needlework on the piece of cloth I was embroidering with beads. Other Mayapur Academy students were bent over looms, huddled in their sweaters.

Keshavi Mataji came around to clusters of students. She gathered several of us and said, "So, you are now going to write. You are having a conversation with Lord Chaitanya. You want to go back to the spiritual world, but He is skeptical. So have a conversation where you convince Him that you want to go back." Keshavi Mataji handed us lined pieces of paper, then moved on to the next cluster of students.

I stared at the blank sheet of paper, then went back to my needlework. How would I ever convince someone that I wanted to go back to the spiritual world when really I didn't care about going back? What was the big deal, anyway? Why can't we just live and love here? The spiritual world doesn't only have to exist when I die.

Time was ticking. Finally, I set aside my needlework and picked up a pen. I wrote the following conversation:

Me: You came for me, Mahaprabhu!
Lord Chaitanya: Yes. I only want to know how and why you want to come with me.
Me: This world... this place is not my home.
Chaitanya: You often forget that.
Me: I am realizing that the only place I can give love with no fear, with all my heart, is with You.
Chaitanya: Nice words. How about showing them?
Me: I have been on this path to You my whole life, Mahaprabhu. Lifetimes, actually.
Chaitanya: This qualifies you to come back to the spiritual world?
Me: No. I have no qualification.
Chaitanya: Then tell me how you can come with Me.
Me: Because You love me unconditionally, especially because I have no qualification.
Chaitanya: You're tugging at my mercy, Bhakti lata.
Me: Exactly. I am an impudent beggar. I have no right to beg, to be hanging onto the hem of Your dhoti.
Chaitanya: Indeed.
Me: I am demanding the highest gift, even though I have no right to demand. But I am lost without You. I beg You take me home.
Chaitanya: You don't need to beg, my dear Bhakti lata dasi.
Me: Really?
Chaitanya: I have wanted you to come home with Me for thousands of lifetimes. I just wanted to hear from YOU.
      Come [holds out hand], let's go home.


When I recited this conversation out at the end of class to my fellow students, my voice broke at the end. A hush had fallen over everyone during these readings, and a hush fell over my own heart.

Take me home. Please. 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Thank you for the post. When I recited your conversation, a hush had fallen over my heart too! How merciful the Lord is!

To write is to dare the soul. So write.