Tibet: Lamplight Unto A Darkened World...Excerpt from a Novel :-)

Tibet: 

Lamplight Unto a

Darkened World.....

Book I:

Kathmandu

                                              Karma

Chapters one thru six, an Introduction to the novel...

by: Patrick J Mahoney

                                                                 Dedication

            This book is dedicated to Mary Etzcorn Mahoney and Robert Burnham Mahoney

                                for their unending love and support,

             and;  to The 14th Dalai Lama,  Tenzin Gyatso,

                       for his Inspiration and selfless commitment to the betterment of life.....

          "That diamond is having a very important family. From the Golconda mines in Kollur, come such purest of all diamonds - as they lack the element that would corrupt them.

          Its history begins many, many, hundreds of years  past, in the household of Babur - relation to the greatest Khan, Genghis.  Named  the ‘Great Mogul' after the Mogul Emperor Shah Jehan...the same such who built the Taj Mahal....it was split into two of the world's most powerful diamonds.

          Whomever owned one, was foretold to rule the world; and it resided in the infamous peacock throne until Jehan's son, Aurangzeb, stole all from his father and began the quick decline of the Mogul Emperors. Also then, Jean Baptiste Tavernier, the same cursed French jewel thief who purloined the ‘Great Blue' for the French Emperor, purposely created confusion by poorly identifying this part as the whole - while pretending to elucidate. Falling then into the hands of Nadar Shah, the King of Persia, it was dubbed the ‘Koh-I-Noor' - ‘Mountain of Light,' in Urdu tongue - and, eventually, demanded by Victoria, Queen of England.

          The second part of the ‘Great Mogul' remained the powerful eye of Deity in holy Brahmin Temple in Mysore - until stolen by a French sailor, and later given to the Emperoress Catherine The Great, as the ‘Orlov.'  Both diamonds shine today, as the stars of the British and Romanov Crown Jewels; and, profited none, as they worked their way to preeminence - such is their power. 

            Thus, the rape of ancient India is illustrated; providing yet another example of the perpetuation of Samsara. Unbridled thirst for wealth, power and supremacy always results in the squandering of all, and spiritual desolation.  Will my people never learn the debt of bad Karma?  Are other peoples destined to succumb to the same tortured fate of mother India?  Sad is the thought..."

                                                                                -Lamentations of a Hindu Brahman

                                              Book  I: Kathmandu Karma

Chapter                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Page

1                              Into Varanasi................................................................................5

2                              Oblivion........................................................................................8

3                              Anticipation................................................................................15

4                              Prince of Corporate America.......................................................24

5                              The Looms of Benares.................................................................38

6                              The Shadow Men  1980...............................................................54

7                              Crossing Borders into the Unknown.............................................

8                              Perceived Needs...........................................................................

9                              The Crossroads of Kathmandu.....................................................

10                            Departure of the Prince................................................................

11                            Kathmandu Karma.................................................................. ...

12                            Shadow Men late 1983...............................................................

13                            Trains, mines, and Coffee Makers..............................................

14                            Trekking into the Unknown........................................................

15                            Tex-R-Canna..............................................................................

16                            The Two Faces of  Tulips with Two Lips....................................

17                            Humble Beginnings.....................................................................

18                            Transformations..........................................................................

19                            Acceptance..................................................................................

20                            Broken Promises.........................................................................

21                            Awakenings................................................................................

22                            The Roaring 80's.........................................................................

23                            Shadow  Men 1987......................................................................

24                            Things Aren't Always What They Seem To Be............................

25                            Death and Dying..........................................................................

26                            The Game of Business....And The Business of Greed...................

27                            New Beginnings..........................................................................

28                            Shadow Men 1993.......................................................................

29                            From the Frying Pan to the Fire...................................................

30                            Calm Between the Storms............................................................

31                            Into China...................................................................................

                                                                Chapter 1 

                                                Into Varanasi 

      "A high crowned rose stone with a flaw at the bottom, and a small speck within...."

      -Jean Baptiste Tavernier's cryptic description of ‘The Great Mogul' diamond; in report after examining it.

   The metal wheels screeched, as the train moved slowly into the station.  If it could be called a station. Located in lowland swampy surroundings, bent gnarled trees dotted the landscape around the ramshackle building. Surrounding small plots of brown hay lay interspersed amongst half acre plots of green sugar cane stalks.  The steel bars over the train windows added a horizontal view to the world of contrasting colors, feelings, and perspectives.  As the train slowed to a stop at the station, the standing people parted quietly,  and a brave little gray monkey came directly to the open window ....looking in for a treat.  She was a nursing mother. Her two offspring scampered away, up the station railings, with innocent and quizzical looks in their eyes.

    "Hey, look at the monkeys!" 

    "Aren't they incredible?"

   "Here come some more!  Hurry up, and hand me my camera Susan. I've got to get  pictures for my kids - they won't believe it." 

   The small group of Indians sharing the train car exchanged knowing smiles, as they laughed kindly at the obvious tourists in a strange land.  The train pulled away slowly, and moisture laden air flowed through the crowded train car.  As the visitor's minds and hearts tried to assimilate the mysteries that they had been observing during the long train ride, the silence was broken sharply by the food vendor hawking his spicy fried chick pea and onion mixture from car to car; and calling out, loudly, about his milk tea.

   "Chai, Chai.....hot Chai!"

   The strong smell of spices lingered  long after he had passed through the train car; held captive by the heavy, sultry,  air.  It nearly masked the almost forgotten, urine-like, smell of the slums through which they had passed.  As fresh air began to waft through the slowly moving train car,  the travelers  sighed a collective sigh of relief.  They had  finally passed from the horrors of tenement cities, to the beguiling countryside of Northern India.  The train was bound for Varanasi.  Varanasi, one of  the oldest continually occupied cities in the world.....some say, for over 5,000 years. A  holy city to Hindu pilgrims.  The train was scheduled  to arrive at 5:00 a.m., and Tom hoped that their arrival would be  timed so that he would see his first sunrise over the Himalayas.  He wanted to watch, from the shores of the Ganges, as thousands of people made their morning descent down the wide  stone steps, into the water to perform their daily ablutions. Thereby cleansing their souls of sins.  This was the romantic image of India that he desired so much to see, feel, and experience.  An image that would erase the pain in his heart from the all too real, brutal, images of Delhi.

  Tom saw the Chai wallah  pass through his peripheral vision.  His movement woke Tom from his reverie, a beautiful vision of the scene playing out within his mind,  and he called out to him.

  "Hey!  Hello?  How much for a cup?"

   "Four Rupee sir."

   "Here, I'll take one."

Tom pulled a handful of well worn currency out of his sweat stained pocket, and handed the man a 10 Rupee note.

   "Sir, I have no change."

   "Oh, I guess I'll wait then."

   "No, no, sir....here, I find what I can."

   After the gaunt man handed Tom a steaming cup of sugared goats milk with a floating tea bag, he dug in his pockets for coins. He handed Thomas a five Rupee piece, and swore to bring back the remaining rupee later.  Tom and the other people in the train car shared understanding glances.  They all recognized  that the man would never return - savoring the extra nickel that he had scammed. 

   "Such is the life of many in India,"  thought Thomas,  "scraping out a meager existence any way they can.  Honorably, if possible - or not so, if it means hungry kids at home....." 

   Tom had experienced similar short shrift in Mexico, but it was maddening there - due to the mocking of the 'Gringo' that accompanied it. 

   "In India it's accepted as benign tribute to the guilt in our hearts.  Guilt from the pervasive suffering of those around us, and our failure to do anything about it," his silent thoughts ran on.

   Philip smiled at Tom with a warm look.  His serene countenance was accentuated by his sparkling and intelligent eyes.

   "Where are your thoughts, Thomas?" he asked gently, and with sincere interest.

   "Oh, all over the place. I feel like a dam has broken in my emotions, and I'm trying to ride the waves of them without being overwhelmed."

   "How do you mean?"

   "Well, for most of my life I've felt  really strong emotions; and I thought I was expressing them clearly through my actions.  I tried  through my work, large sacrifices for others, things for my family, or in my gardens.  But everything I did was misinterpreted. So now I'm allowing the feelings to wash through me, and trying my best to communicate them verbally. Its something new to me....."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah, I guess like most men, I expected that the passion inherent in my actions was self evident to those around me.  That they understood how I felt, by how diligently I supported them, or how expansive  my creations were, or how elaborate my construction projects became.  I only recently began to understand that most people interpret other's actions relative to their own perspective, and their feelings.   I thought I was accomplishing something through my actions, while they only related to how it affected them."

   Philip's smile widened,  showing that he understood and could relate to what Tom was trying to convey.

   "Men are often taught to do, rather than to talk, Thomas.  Miscommunication of our emotions is both our greatest weakness; and, our greatest refuge from  hurtful people," Philip commented, and fell silent.

  Soon after,  Philip slid out of his seat and walked to the end of the train car to smoke of one of his ‘famous' hand rolled cigarettes.  As Tom  reflected upon his revelation, he noticed Sinjin sitting opposite of him - entranced by the same feelings of India.  With one leg propped up in the window, and his knee to his chin, his face reflected a pensive look ....held in a quiet stasis.  He lifted his camera to capture what he could of the passing countryside.  Susan sat next to Tom, with her legs crudely extended to the opposite seat alongside Sinjin.  She was similarly captivated by the pregnant moment of reflection.  A bit numb, jaded, and worn out after three months in Delhi; she was trying to cope with realities that her mind didn't want to accept.  Denial of the painful and harsh  reality of life in India was her mind's only safeguard to the overwhelming press of sensory and emotional information.

   So the day went, delimited by the sounds of clicking train tracks and lulling cruises in and out of minor station stops.  Gentle, heavy, breezes passed through the train car - easing the heat, and soothing the passengers. With a calming whistle, many cars ahead of theirs, the engine warned the cows and people off of the train tracks.

   "On and on we go," thought Thomas.  "On to Varanasi.  On through the waning day.  On with the melancholy reflections in our hearts." 

   Tom felt a now familiar pull towards something.  Something calling to his heart. He knew not how, when, or even if he would find it in his  travels.  But it was  reassuring in its reoccurrence.  It helped calm his mind, and heart, of all that was troublesome.

   "Its preparing me to accept what I must," mused Tom.

   Philip returned, and began talking quietly to Sinjin about his camera.  Sinjin smiled, because of Philip's genuine interest.  Watching the happy duo  lifted Tom's flowing thoughts and emotions.  But he sat quietly, observing;  just letting the feelings flow through him....savoring the experience.

   As the day progressed, the countryside  transformed into neat plots of vegetables, waving sugar cane, and small mango groves.  At first glance, the little villages  seemed to epitomize squalor.  Yet on closer inspection, Tom saw that they were comprised of simple homes shaped by three walls of bricks and rocks, with rush roofs.  Many courtyards contained a black cow.  Some held a large pig. While others housed random chickens. 

   As Tom surveyed the scenery, two eager brown dogs began running alongside the moderately moving train; with their little boy masters leading their way.  The boys smiled benignly, and appeared happy to be alive. Tom's attention then shifted to conical-shaped mounds of wheat, which rose randomly in the fields......many right next to similarly shaped, larger, mounds of dried cow manure ‘chips.'

   "Food and feces," mused Tom.

   "Beginning, and end.  Life, and death. All accepted as part of nature.  Part of life, part of the very fabric of their existence. Poor of money, they aren't poor of spirit......accepting their lot in life as the will of whatever Gods they worship,"  his silent voice spoke to his conscious mind.....attempting to ameliorate  the emotional shock of the mysterious world through which he traveled.

   And so the day wore on, and Tom's mind drifted in and out of a dreamless sleep - like station stops for his roiling emotions.

                                                 Chapter 2  

                                                             Oblivion.....

          "In visions of the dark night, I have dreamed of joy departed -

                        But a waking dream of life and light, hath left me broken-hearted"

                                                                                      -E. A. Poe, ‘A Dream'

                "Do you remember yesterday?"

   "Some...."

   "Is there someone you would like to call?"

   "No, I left notes to anyone who might care."

   "Would you like to have a roommate?"

   "You mean I don't have to stay in there anymore?" he said, pointing at the lock-down ward which contained more than twenty people milling about -each oblivious, each wrestling with his or her demons.

   "Well, you can move to one of the rooms with two beds in them, if you can sign this ‘promise'

document.  It essentially says that you won't try to hurt yourself."

   Silence met the question, as he tuned out of this world again, into his ‘safe place.'  A place where he felt no pain.  A place where everything meant nothing; and the world, and all of its words, were a peripheral image......an image that was safely blurred into obscurity. It was the place where he felt like staying -  as if safely resident within a fuzzy impressionist garden painting.

   After waiting a few minutes, the doctor realized that his patient wasn't responding, and therefore not ready to leave 24 hour observation. 

   "Well, I have to leave now; there are people to meet. We'll talk again. Tomorrow...."

   He continued to stare, his near catatonic stare, at a blank wall. The doctor recognized that his patient wasn't ‘with' him any longer.  He didn't show any recognition of the question, and his facial expression remained blank.  As blank as the wall, he sat perfectly still. After assessing his new patient's state, the doctor added instructions to his chart  to increase his medication, and to keep him under observation. Rising then, the doctor prepared to leave the room and the man moved in response to the movement in the room.  The patient rose from his chair, lifeless and limp, and followed the doctor's lead.  Somewhere inside, he felt the doctors' gentle hand on his shoulder.

   "That hand means something, doesn't it?" he thought randomly. "But what?  No, nothing. Well....." his thoughts faded. 

   Then his interest was captured when he saw a familiar face in the loud and disrupted room.

   "Oh, there is Sarah......" his thoughts tried to focus on something, but he couldn‘t quite grasp it all.

   He forgot about the doctor's existence.

   "I should let her talk to me, it'll do her good," he thought silently, but with some random purpose.

   Then he was gone.  He walked out to speak to one of the scariest of the inhabitants in the large, white, sterile, and cold room.

    The doctor shook his head, and thought: "We're going to have to watch this one!"

   "Nurse?"

   "Yes doctor?" the middle aged woman answered him from the observation desk.

   Walking up to her, while still making a few more notes on the patient's chart, he didn't even look up as he spoke to her.

   "Lets keep this one under close supervision for a couple of days.  If you see that he is having trouble sleeping with all of the activity around him, then give him 500 milligrams of Ambien; o.k.?"

   "Yes Doctor.  Its been really rough in here......what, with the large number of people, and Sarah's outbursts and all. She's refusing her meds again, slips right back into extreme paranoia, and isn't shy in voicing her fears," she said in exasperation.

   The doctor heard frustration in her voice, so he tried to let her feel included  in the decision by explaining his logic. 

   "We could isolate her if need be, but she's been here two weeks already without much progress and I'd like to keep her with people. By herself....." his voiced trailed off, as he observed her troubled countenance.  "O.k., I agree with you.  I'll call Alice up in the office, and we'll get a couple of orderlies to help give her the Meds.  That should help."

   "Well, keeping her cigarettes from her doesn't seem to be working.  It plays into her paranoia of people plotting against her.  A direct approach isn't as easy, but at least she'll understand it.  She's adapted to the cigarette trade, and just gets louder and louder, trying to raise a ruckus so we'll give up and give her cigarettes to shut her up - and frankly, I'm tempted.  But she really needs her Meds!"

   Drifting off into his own thoughts, the doctor knew all the things that the nurse was saying, but he also knew that she just had to be able to vent it. He knew that working in this ward was tough on everyone, and that a patient ear was the least he could do to make it bearable. Looking out, and surveying as many of the patients as he could, his eyes picked up the large woman who was screaming obscenities; while engaging in alternating periods of serious ‘self discussion.'  Her long dirty grayish-brown hair was matted like an unkempt dog; and her clothes, all mismatched and threadbare in many places, looked as though they had never been washed.  She calmed down, as soon as his last patient reached her and sat down close to her. 

   "Jesus!" said the Doctor.  "Of all places to sit, he chooses to sit close to Sarah. What's that about? This guy is going to be an interesting case. Obviously he's self destructive, severely depressed to the point where he is  nonfunctional, and in a near catatonic state; yet he goes and helps a woman in pain?" he exclaimed, with a puzzled tone,  to the nurse.

 "Curious, very curious,"  he thought.

   Then he commented aloud:  "Well, thank you Ann. I'll look into it!" he said absently, with apparent concern.

   Then, he couldn't remember exactly what he had to ‘look into.' 

  "Oh, well," he thought, "its a good generic response to give, when I need to cut off the ranting nicely." 

   The nurse gave him an even more exasperated look, and commented under her breath: "Doctors, when will I ever learn?  I'd better just go do what needs to be done!" 

   The doctor's sharp mind turned to other matters, even as he was finishing his sentence.  He turned, and strode confidently down the hall towards the adjoining building.

   He was in ‘Cottage A,' the entry point for all nonviolent suicide cases.  Now it was time for rounds in ‘Cottage B,' where the chemically addicted patients were housed.  Thoughts of all his patients in this area swam around in his head.  Anyone else would have been overwhelmed, but not Dr. Randolph.  He enjoyed the challenge, and treasured his "successes."

   "God, she stinks like nasty old shit.  I hope I don't throw up.  That certainly won't help anything," the disheveled and disoriented patient thought, as he sat down next to Sarah.  He purposely sat down close to her, and forced himself not to wince.

   "She has to know  that I'm not making any judgments, otherwise she'll never open up to me; and she has to open up, so I can encourage her to stop screaming."

   The pain in her screams chilled him to the bone.  It was like small daggers were being stuck into his body, all over.

   "I'll go nuts," he thought,  "if she doesn't stop. And God knows that she needs rest, food, and her medications - whatever those are."  

   He wasn't really sure if drugs helped, or hurt, in the long run; but in this case, he was certain that they would help the tortured woman.

   "If she doesn't calm down soon, she'll really blow up."

   He wasn't sure that he could handle the resulting psychic shock waves of that possible event.

   "God, isn't there a quiet place to go?" he wondered. 

   Every noise and movement grated on his psyche.  So the combined pain projected by  all the people around him was devastating.  It was an ongoing emotional assault.  He literally felt their pain being transferred to him, and he wasn't sure how much more of that he could take in his highly sensitized state before he started screaming too - if to just release the growing, unbearable, pain.  He was normally very empathetic, but it seemed  that he was now highly sensitized to everything - especially pain.  The place felt physically safe,  although some people made it feel a bit scary at times.  After a few hours of being crouched in a corner, he realized that few if any of the people were dangerous......though many were very disconcerting. 

   "But Jesus,  they're in such mental agony and their bodies reflect it," he observed.

  Some were fat, others were only skin and bones.  None were remotely calm.  He knew he appeared calm, although inside his feelings and pain matched or exceeded that of those around him.       

   "Maybe I should scream and let it all out - like those crazy new-age primal scream people on TV?" he thought at first. 

   He even tried to scream, but no sound would come out - or even start. He just didn't have the will to care whether it came out or not, whether he ate or not, what he looked like, or where he was ‘to go.' He had given up on everything, and just didn't care.  If he drove off of a bridge, he wouldn't have cared.

   "If anything, it would be a relief.....to stop this pain," he thought.

   A delivery from the unbearable internal pain.

   "Where did it come from? How? Why?" 

   His questions always withered out into confused and conflicting thoughts; so he didn't even try to think, worry, control, understand, or do anything anymore. It was enough to just  "be." 

   But when faced with this pitiful woman, his mind gave him answers, directions, and seemingly clear solutions.  He finally decided that of all of the people in the hospital, Sarah was the worse off - displaying her pain and agony as a camouflaged plea for help. 

   "All I have to do is to work into her confidences enough to give her a big hug," he thought.  "But it won't work unless its sincere, or if I do it right away as a stranger." 

   No, they had to become friends for her to desire, and then be relieved by, a big hug.  A hug?  How could it be that simple?  Was he right, or dead wrong?  God knew.  All he knew was it was the thing that he wanted, and needed.

   "We can't  be that much different, she's just much more extreme," he reasoned.  "And God knows that she hasn't gotten any loving attention in her present physical shape.  This is going to be tough, and may not work; but I've got to try." 

   He couldn't handle hearing, and seeing, her pain any longer.  While the doctors' existence quickly faded from his damaged memory, her exhibition of pain glared like a beacon to him.  She was a siren of agony, and he was strangely drawn to her pleas.

   "What are you doing here?" She said with scorn and derision, as he sat down beside her. 

   She was naturally skeptical as to why a handsome young man would chose to sit close to her, and her paranoia kicked in. 

   "They sent you here, didn't they?  They wants what's up here," she said as she pointed to her brain.

"I'm smart, and they know it. I know their ways!  I know their tricks!  They want what I know, and will pump me full of drugs to get it!" she said suspiciously. 

   "No," he said. "I could see that you were smart. The bastards! They're hard to understand.  I'm here because I didn't want to sit by the crazies over there, and you remind me of my favorite aunt. So I came over here."

   "They think that I'll give in!  They think if they torture me by keeping my cigarettes, I'll voluntarily submit to their mind bending drugs.  No way!  I‘ll die first,  and torture them with my antics in the process.  They can't be allowed to get away with this!"

   "Well," he started....and then stopped.  "I think that it's working some, but it's also upsetting the crazies.  That's not cool.  I've got a better idea on how to get to them!"

   And feigning a conspiracy, he started.  He felt that her paranoid mind needed some game, so "lets give her a benign one," he reasoned.

   "What?" she asked. "What are you thinking of?" she asked quietly.

   Suddenly she shrank down, and lowered her voice.  She looked directly into his eyes with her bright and intelligent  bluish-gray eyes.

   "Well I'll sit close to you, and when they bring the Meds over I'll be right here looking at them - so they won't dare give you the bad ones!  Then you can make sure that they give you your cigarettes.  After that, you and I can meet in the courtyard to talk some more....where they can't hear us."

   "You're a smart one," she said with a warm smile. "I knew it, the minute I saw you!  We'll trick them, we will, and get them good!"

   "Ok, so we've got to start talking louder about other things now.  Otherwise, they'll suspect something.  We can talk more when we get outside, ok?"

   "Deal!" she said with the gusto of a marine sergeant, and gave him a firm slap to his back as emphasis.

   So they talked and talked, and talked, and talked.  It wore him out, but he kept talking. He asked her questions about her family.

   "My daughter put me in here, the bitch!"

   He asked her about her husband, deftly changing  the subject.

   "He was a good man, but the alcohol got the better of ‘em."

   And, he asked about education.

   "I went to college, and had a good career.  I'm smart. Smarter than they think!  I like your plan, you're smart too!"

   After an hour or so, a nurse started walking in their direction.

   "See her?" she asked him.

   "Yes.  I've been watching them while we were talking, they're curious about us talking so much.  Its kind of odd, given your screaming and all.  Anyway, that bitch nurse over there carried Meds in a paper cup to the supervisor and the staff doctor at the main desk.  She said something to them, and the other nurse and the doctor seemed puzzled, and didn't seem too happy.  Then they shook their heads, like they said ‘no' to her. The nice nurse took the Meds from the bitch, looked at them closely, shook her head, and showed the doctor.  The doctor looked at the Meds, then over at us while we were talking normally.  I couldn't tell all of what he said, but a big part was ‘No,' and he took some of the Meds out of the cup and threw them into the trashcan!  Boy, was the bitch nurse pissed!  The doctor then handed the cup to the nice nurse, and she started walking over here with the safe Meds.  You're right, that bitch was going to give you some horrible shit!"

   "I knew it!  I knew it!"

   "Shush now, she's coming over here and will hear us.  Be real nice, and tell her that there's no problem, so long as she brings you the Meds.  Otherwise, let 'em know that you'll start screaming again - even louder than before, ok?"

   "Ok."

   The nurse was half way across the cavernous white room when two white coated orderlies joined her, and bore straight towards the two conspirators.

    "Sarah," she said nicely.  "I have your Meds, you need to take them, ok?  These two men will help you if you cause problems, ok?" she added as sweet as could be.

   "Ok, I'll take my Meds. Even regular like.  But, it has to be you bringing them every time, and then giving my cigs back, ok?"

   Unable to hide her shock at the unexpected easy compliance, the nurse visibly regained her composure before speaking.

   "Why sure, Sarah.  Whatever you want.  That'll be fine.  We just want you to be happy."

   "Bullshit, you're all commie whores!  Don't ever forget that I know it either!  I just want my cigarettes!"

   "Well ok," she said meekly.  "Here are your Meds, and some water. Take them now, and I'll get your cigarettes back."

   She handed over the Med cup with shaky hands, and smiled to see Sarah quickly swallow them.

    "Good, good! Now drink this glass of water so your stomach won't be upset," she said as the orderly on her left passed Sarah a large glass of water.

   Sarah drank it in a few large gulps, and threw down the empty cup.

   "Now bring me my cigs!"

   "Ok, I'll make sure that they give them to you on the next break in the courtyard; which will be soon."

   "Uhhmmmmm, make sure you do!  And tell that bitch nurse to steer clear of me," she said, pointing directly at the other nurse who was watching the whole scene play out with visible surprise.

   "Ok, I'll bring you your Meds from now on."

   "Thanks," she said with a begrudging grunt.

   Soon they were all gone, and were chatting with animated gestures to the other nurse and the doctor at the main desk.

   "That went well," he said to Sarah. "But you were a bit rough with her."

   "Yeah, I know.  Gotta keep them on their toes.  Don't ever trust ‘em, they'll betray you.  Last week they injected me with something that knocked me out for two days!"

   "Jeez, that sounds bad."

   "Don't ever trust ‘em.  Your plan was great, but lets see if they give me my cigarettes."

   "I think that they will," he interjected.  "I'll make a point of stopping by there on my way  to the toilet, and scare them with something you would do if they didn't."

   "You're real smart," she said with a warm appreciative smile.

   "Well, I'm going to watch TV for awhile, and then go to the toilet," he said.  "I'll come back here for a minute after that, then take a nap on that couch over there.  That way they won't suspect anything like we were working together, or anything, ok?"

   "Oh, that makes sense."

   "Ok, I'll see you.  Good luck, partner!" he said with a warm smile.

    Then, he was off to another room.  He crashed on one of the couches in the TV room for a few minutes; spent and exhausted from his exchange with Sarah.

   "Ok, hang in there," he told himself.  "You're almost done," he reassured himself.

   He then forced his wobbly legs to walk the distance to the toilet, telling himself that he only had a little more to do before he could relax fully.  Sarah perked up the minute that he entered the main room, and she intently watched as he entered, then later left, the bathroom.  He casually walked by the main desk nurse's station, and right up to the ‘good' nurse.  She ignored his presence for a while. They always did, as a matter of policy.  He didn't let her speak, however, as she raised her head to look at her visitor.

   "Ok, be quiet and listen up.  I don't have long to talk.  Sarah will take her Meds if you give them to her. If you want to play good nurse/bad nurse with that other nurse, then it'll convince her even more and she'll begin to trust you. But you have to give her cigarettes too.  I got her to trust you, provisionally, ok?"

   A little surprised, and obviously amused by the good nurse/bad nurse remark, she quickly caught onto his plan.

   "We will.  Thanks."

   "No, thank you.  That poor woman needs serious help, and none of us can handle her screaming any longer."

   "Well, she has a history, you know."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah, this is her third time in.  She's ok when she's on her medications, but she's chemically imbalanced and stops taking them at home when she seems to feel better.  Then, she falls hard.  Her daughter brought her in the first time.  The last two times, it was the police.  She was found roaming the streets for God knows how long."

   "Well I can't talk too much, she'll think I'm on your side," he said with a wink.

   "Thanks again."

   "Me too. I feel really weak now. Its been a lot to even focus on this, and I can feel myself slipping again.  You'd better look upset with me, to be convincing. I guess once her Meds kick in, she'll be over the hump, eh?  I hope so, it seriously hurts too much to hear her pain.  It's real to her, and it hits me hard."

   "Why don't you go to sleep in that little room over there?"

   "Can I?  That would be great.  This is all too overwhelming for me.  Its just too much....." his voice trailed off, as the stress of the events kicked in.

   "No problem, now go away!" she said with an over dramatized scowl. 

   He tried  hard not to laugh, she was so funny.  He turned away quickly, and headed straight back to Sarah......pretending like he was walking into the TV area. As he passed her, he said: "alls cool, you'll get your cigarettes.  But you can't give that bitch nurse any ammunition.  You have to take your Meds without any more fussing, ok?"

   "Ok," she said sheepishly.

   He could tell that somewhere, deep down inside, she knew it was all a charade; but like most people, she turned a blind eye to incongruent things when they knew deep down that it was for their benefit. Sarah knew that she could trust his sincerity, so she went along with everything he asked.  He understood her feelings of hurt, sadness, and anger; caused by someone pretending to be good, and then betraying the trust they intended to engender in their apparent sincerity.  It hurt him worse than any bad news ever could; and when vulnerable, it was devastating because his fragile trust was violated and he felt even more alone, feeling then that he couldn't trust anyone.  As a result, it ultimately resulted in bad consequences. He'd taken the blows of betrayal of trust so much that he couldn't cope with anything anymore.  While the current situation was upsetting to him,  it helped him to understand the source of some of his own pain by seeing it glaringly in the hapless woman.  Maybe that's why her pain affected him so much.  He could identify with it deeply.  The place was full of people who'd been crunched up by deceptions and betrayals, and were really only reaching out......however oddly.....for help and protection from an onslaught of now overwhelming emotions.

    "Sanctuary, sanctuary,  sanctuary," Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre-Dame, beseeched.

    He'd sought refuge,  in order to escape his societal-driven tormentors. The unbidden quote pierced his awareness, like an unexpected arrow.

   "That's what I need," he realized, as the last of his energy drained out of his worn body and he collapsed on the small cot in the open little alcove.

   His last thoughts were: "Thank God she's going to be quiet now.  I can sleep without fear. Its going to be good for her to have her medication.  She's a really nice person ......just scared as hell, and lashing out with anger at an increasingly insensitive world.  My anger and hurt is similar, its just turned inside and against myself.  I need rest, silence, time......."  his mind rambled off into oblivion.

   He woke because someone shook him.  He didn't want to get up, but everyone was forced to move out of the ward.  He hardly knew where he was again, being pulled from a very deep sleep brought on by his medication. His brief period of semi-clarity with the Sarah situation had been a last effort fluke, and it drained him even further than before. He felt like a zombie.  His thoughts were incoherent, confused, jumbled; and it was frustrating for him to try and hold them in his conscious awareness. Nothing ‘stuck' in his short term memory.  It quickly got wiped clean, or things never even registered.  Because he felt safe, he'd let himself totally collapse.  It had been a relief to find sanctuary.  Then, when his new found peace  had been threatened with psychic disturbance, he'd used the last of his reserves....from somewhere deep inside....to deal with it.  But the effort had drained the last energy out of him.  Maybe he allowed that, knowing that there was a safety net for him to fall into when totally spent.  After all, he had only allowed himself the respite of the hospital after feeling assured that his kids would be safe without him.  It was only when he knew that he had done his best by them, gotten them safely through the treacherous emotional storm that had threatened to damage them for life, that he could let go totally.  He tried everything in his power to assure than the worst of the divorce consequences fell on him, not them.  Protecting them, until they could stand on their own; independent of the twisted thoughts, and warped values, of his ex-wife.

   "Come on, come on now.  We have to clean up the room, and you need some fresh air," a disembodied voice spoke to him.  "Cummon, lets go," the orderlies directed him insistently.

   Corralled like limping sheep, all of the patients ambled outside into a small, totally enclosed, courtyard.  Sarah was way ahead of him, but her presence didn't really register with him any more than anything else.  He felt remotely good about her, but his memories were fuzzy at best.  Sarah stopped by the nurse's station on her way out, and was handed two cigarettes. 

   She scowled a "cheapskate" look at the nurse, but caused no incident. She'd been mercifully quiet for a long time, and was somewhat defused as her meds kicked in.  He was punchy, and not attempting to process anything.  His mind wouldn't even try.  It had been overloaded, chemically drained through prolonged and continued stress, and was misfiring.  He felt like he was in a fog.  Never quite getting past that place between sleep and awake.  It was a kind of a gray space.  Kind of a numb and quiet space.  He recognized Sarah when they were outside, and she smiled to see him.

   "It worked! It worked!" she said brightly.

   It was nice to see her feeling something other than pain, but he couldn't feel anything other than the absence of her pain.  He was just slightly less oppressed  by her slice of happiness. Not much else registered in his worn out cerebrum.

   "I keep giving pieces of myself away," he thought, "without someone giving some in." 

   It was slightly less painful knowing that Sarah was on track, and that he helped somehow, but he still was drained and numb.  He did, however, remember his last responsibility as he saw it....the hug.  He girded himself for the smell, actually  holding his breath, and gave her a big bear hug.  He slowly let out the air that was trapped in his lungs, so not to run away too quickly and display his olfactory disgust.  That would have defeated the purpose of all his work, and hurt her terribly. She smiled broadly, as she left his embrace.  He let out the rest of his breath, and simply said: "You're a good person, Sarah.  Don't ever forget it again, ok?"

   Shocked into silence, she stood enthralled; glowing with appreciation and warmth.

   He headed for the nearest bench and collapsed.  Someone eventually helped him back into the building when their break was over. Dropping onto a makeshift cot, he thankfully fell into a deep, nearly comatose, sleep.  The medications insured that, but he didn't know, or care.

                                                              Chapter 3 

                                Anticipation of India, beginning his journey......

                "When troubles surround us, when evils come.  The body grows weak, the spirit grows numb. When these things beset us, he doesn't forget us.  He sends down his love, on the wings of a dove.  On the Wings of a snow white dove....."

                                        -‘On the wings of a dove,‘ by Dolly Parton (by permission)

                The pull of the G-forces gently held Tom in his seat as the plane banked, hard left, immediately after take off - setting course for Delhi, India.  They had just left  Zurich airport, and its strikingly sterile appearance. Tom  traveled Air France to Zurich, and then Swissair to Delhi.  Both were wonderful airlines, with incredible in-flight service from pleasant and sincere stewardesses.  Because of them, the travel time from New York seemed nearly instantaneous.

   He knew that soon he would be experiencing the extremes of human existence;  in living color, and with full surround-sound stereo.  India, he was told,  was life at its best and at its worse.  He knew he'd be unavoidably faced with the pain and sadness of severe deprivation, the filth of overpopulation, and the serene peace of acceptance.   Acceptance, that the world wasn't as they would have it.  Acceptance, of the realization that its our unwritten responsibility to do what we can to improve the world, as we can.  And acceptance of the fact that if we lived 100 years, we wouldn't be able to solve everything.  But that was o.k. too,  because the world's problems weren't ours to solve alone.  It was the epitome of the ‘do what you can, and let go,' philosophy that Thomas was trying his best to assimilate.  He felt that India would be his catharsis - his challenge, his test of himself in learning how to ‘let go' of things beyond his control.

   The spiritual and temporal growth that served as the foundation for  Tom's heightened state of awareness had been building for over 20 years.  Although, he didn't always understand his path during the process.

   It seemed so simple - life. "Work hard, think logically and strategically, and have the balls to follow your dreams and plans.  Then, Bingo!  Happiness will be there," he had reasoned in his collegiate youth.

  "Duh! Was I ever wrong!" he'd thought. 

   With an excellent education behind him, and a career firmly on track, all he had to do was find a wife.....a college sweetheart, maybe....and forge a wonderful marriage and family.  Then life would unfold.  That had been his plan.  The template for life that he'd been taught from birth.  That was the only way, or so he thought.

   Shaking himself from ruminating thoughts, Tom looked at the little video monitor in front of his seat.  It showed a representational plane flying over a blue map with white letters.  The little plane began flying into Germany. 

   "Life does go on.  Just like the little plane, and sometimes with about the same level of comprehension," he lamented.

   "Where are you bound?" asked the polite young woman seated to his right, across the aisle.

   Surprised by her voice and her abrupt presence, but thankfully shaken from his thoughts, Tom replied:

   "To Tibet, eventually.  But starting in Delhi, and spending a bit of time traveling about.  Yourself?"

   "I don't even get off the plane in Delhi.  The flight continues onto Japan."

  "That's wonderful, I've always wanted to visit Japan.  I'm really into gardening, and they have a way of putting so much into such a little space; with balance, and in a way that makes sense.  Its hard to describe, I guess you would have to be a gardener to......"

   "Oh, I understand.  Completely!" she interrupted excitedly.

   "That's one of the reasons I'm going.  I'm participating in a University exchange program."

   "That should be wonderful.  Where are you from?"

   "A small town south of Zurich.  You've never heard of it, I'm sure."

   She glowed with an infectious positive energy.  Tom was easily caught up into it, and enjoyed having her alongside him during the flight.  They spoke about various topics, and then drifted off to sleep not long after finishing dinner.

   Before he knew it, the nearly empty plane  lit up, and subtle musical tones sounded - waking them for  landing into Delhi airport.  The young woman remained sleeping, and Tom began to ready himself mentally for the landing.

   "Lets see, its midnight local time, and I don't know where I'll be staying or where I should go first. I'd better ask one of the stewardesses for information," he instructed himself.

   "Miss?" he asked a passing woman.

  "Yes, can I help you?"

  "Yeah, I'm going into Delhi for the first time, and I'm not sure where to stay,  nor where to go first.  Do you have any suggestions?"

   "Its a filthy place, we try to fly through and not stay there.  Ann?" she asked the other stewardess. "Do you have any suggestions on places to stay in Delhi?"

   Ann walked over to them, and began discussing options.

   "There isn't much open at this time.  When you get into the airport there will be information booths, and kiosks, for lodgings and transportation.  People mostly use cabs, because the busses and trains are infrequent.  Use only the state authorized cabs though. They are safest, because they are closely monitored by the government."

    Tom wondered about the necessity of such tight controls over cabs, but he ignored his doubts, and asked about accommodations.

   "Is there a hotel where the flight crew lodges?  I like to stay at the airline's designated hotel, in cities I don't know."

   "No, we don't stay over in Delhi anymore.....too dirty, too hard to get back to the airport; and frankly, too dangerous for  women alone."

   "Hmmmm," Tom groaned as he tried to think quickly.  "I've not even landed, and there are challenges already.  Finding a hotel wasn't one I expected at first."

   "Well, India is a challenge.  Where are you headed?" asked the perky Ann.

   "To Tibet, eventually.  Delhi to Kathmandu, and then Kathmandu to Tibet."

   "And you haven't a more specific itinerary with bookings?" asked the first attendant.

   "What for? I wanted to see what I was getting into before making reservations at places that were so foreign, probably overpriced, and hard to travel to anyway.  I'm traveling like a student.  I thought I would play it by ear."

  "Just so,"  confirmed Ann.  "You never know what you are in for in India.  Transportation is spotty at best, and you just don't know until you see for yourself.  That's another reason why we don't stay there.  Its just too unpredictable."

  "I don't really mind that part.  I'm not in a great hurry, nor on a tight schedule.  I don't think India is a place to travel on a tight schedule."

  "That's for sure," chimed in Ann again.

   "I brought 7,000 Rupees with me.  That should last me for ten days, until more money is deposited into my account at home," confided Tom. 

   His admission garnered worried looks from both stewardesses.

   "What, isn't that enough?  I heard that it's a cheap place to travel."

   "Well, it is.....if you travel along with everyone else.  Regular good hotels, however, cost just as much as most cities in the world.  That 7,000 Rupees will last you about two days."

   "Damn!" exclaimed Tom. 

   "Oh well, I'll just do the hostel thing, or small guesthouses. Its ok.  I planned on that anyway, just not on the first night there.  I wanted to get my bearings first, before jumping right into the scene.  Whatever.  It'll work out," he rationalized.

   "You're a brave one," commented the stewardess.  "Just don't drink the water.  Use only bottled water."

   "I heard that, so I saved a couple from the flight here, to tide me over until I find a store."

   "Well," she said worriedly; "let me give you a few more so you'll have enough.  Why Tibet of all places?  Its so hard to get to."

   "Its going to sound weird, but I feel drawn to it for some unfathomable reason.  Its as though destiny is calling, and I have no free will to disobey the summons.  Not that I want to disobey.  Its intriguing, just a little baffling.  After looking at the maps, and reviewing the logistics, it looks like I need one day in Delhi to run errands, notify  the embassy, find supplies and buy a backpack and appropriate clothing.  Then, I'll travel to Varanasi by train.  I'll be halfway to Kathmandu by then, and should meet some interesting people in the countryside.  Delhi seems like a big nasty city to me, and is only frustrating to me at this point.  Its something to be avoided.  I've no interest in staying there long. It's about 500 miles across country.  375 miles by train to Varanasi, and roughly 250  by bus to Kathmandu.  That should be an adventure in itself, and I don't really want to make an inflexible plan beyond that right now."

   "That sounds quite interesting to me," responded  the stewardess.  "I'd like to do that someday, if I could only get the time off.  Its a pain, really, traveling all over the world, but having no time to explore it.  Someday, though..." she finished wistfully.

   "I think you will, when you really want to, and are able to make it a priority.  Thanks a lot for your advice.  I appreciate all your  help!"

   "No problem," said Ann.  As they both returned to the galley, they looked  at each other with a ‘poor bastard, I hope he survives' look.

   Their looks, and genuine concerns, weren't lost on Tom.  He appreciated their caring natures; yet, he also remembered what Zurich airport was like.  He was dealing with probably the two greatest extremes in human living conditions in the world. 

   "It couldn't be as bad as all that," he reasoned. 

   But, he allowed healthy caution to rule, nonetheless.

   The stewardess came back with an armload of bottled water and packaged snacks for Tom.  He was surprised, and appreciated the caring gesture, but it also highlighted their concern for him. 

   "I'd better mind their caution," he schooled himself.

   He packed the welcome supplies away in his bag.....his only bag.  His friend Ritchie in New York, whom he stayed with before leaving, had been shocked that he was leaving for months of travel with only a gym bag in hand. 

   "Much less to carry," was Tom's justification. 

   Now, he was happy that he only had the simple bag to worry about.  Light baggage kept him mobile and unencumbered.  Just as he completed stowing away his bag, the plane began to descend into Delhi.

   So it was, with a mixture of ambivalence, trepidation, and barely contained joy, that a major chapter of Tom's life began....anew.

   "Maybe, its even a different book?" he mused. "I'll come back from this changed, but how?"

   He didn't know, and so he wondered......

                                                          *********

                The plane landed with a thud at the Delhi airport.  Tom was unconcerned about the possible premonition that it implied, however, because he knew it was one of the largest airports in India.

   "Even if I have to stay the night in the airport, that'll be ok," he reassured himself, as he disembarked from the plane.  Logic said that he would be  fine, but he also knew that India wasn't a world of logic.

   The stewardesses wished him luck as he left, and the young Swiss woman slept through it all.

   As soon as he stepped off the plane into the terminal, he knew things were going to be different than he had expected.  Customs and Immigration was obtuse, and erratic.  At first, Tom attributed that to the midnight arrival time.  But as he stood in line, and the humid heat, buzzing mosquitoes, and flies accosted him, he saw that many passengers looked worrisome as they went through the process......mostly the Indians.  He thought it was odd that he and another  European tourist glided through with welcoming smiles, yet  the Indian émigrés  were given a thorough, and obviously stressful, review.

   "I guess its the tourist dollars thing," Tom reasoned. 

   "Why are there so many flies inside the airport terminal?" he groaned.

   As soon as he walked into the circular rotunda of the main terminal, he knew he was in trouble.  Almost all of the small shops and exchange counters were closed.  He went to the Thomas Cook office first, waited 15 minutes before anyone came to the window, and was promptly informed that he couldn't get an advance on his credit card.

  "But, in every city I've ever been in you can get an advance at Thomas Cook, and I'm an Airline employee!" 

  "So sor-ry. Dhis is India," he said sarcastically, with a sing-song  Indian inflection.  "Things are not the same here!  Now, go onto the bank.  That dis the only place for you."

   "What about an ATM?  Is there one around here?"

   "What dis that you say?  Go away now!" he yelled at Tom, as if he were too busy to be bothered further.

   Tom walked to the long, well lighted, but nearly vacant bank counter to get some more cash.  Since his conversation with the stewardesses, he'd  worried that he hadn't enough cash, so he wanted more ready cash before he left the relative safety of the airport - just to be sure.  He had no clue of how  to find a bank in Delhi, on a weekend.  To him, the airport exchange centers were his only alternative.  By the time it was done, the bank employee and he had a verbal fight over exchange rates, and charges. 

  "If you no want money?  What do I care?" the man exclaimed loudly, into the cavernous and near empty terminal.  He didn't even look at Tom, and then walked away into a back room. 

   Dejected by the weird & hostile environment, Tom returned to Thomas Cook; and asked about exchange rates.

  "I can do nothing for you.  I told you already!" he said, as he dropped the blinds to cover his window.

   Tom realized that the exchange rates were worse than terrible at the bank, and he'd get only half the money he got in New York for his U.S. dollars.  They knew he had no choice, and obviously worked together somehow.  Tom had been ripped off at airport exchange places before, most notably Cancun Mexico; but, this scam beat anything he'd ever seen.  After an hour of wandering around and exhausting all alternatives, he  accepted that he was screwed, gave up, and went back to the bank.  The man  just laughed at him, and Tom boiled inside.

  "Welcome to India," he thought sarcastically.

   With extra money in hand, Tom set out to find a place to stay.  Even though he would never do it in the States, he went to the ever-present  airport fixture - the wall of hotel phones.  He used the antiquated phone set to call the state approved hotels to find a place to stay.  After another hour of  unanswered calls and painful wrangling, he reserved a place at a guesthouse  near the historic Connaut Place. 

   "Now," he said to himself out loud, "for a cab.  I'm exhausted!"

   He walked into the cramped offices of the official cab company, and purchased what he thought was another overpriced service, a cab fare into the city to his hotel  at 220 Rupees.  He didn't try to argue about prices, or even the necessity of taking a cab; he had given up, and only wanted to get into a bed to sleep.

   "You must take this ticket out  door to the cabs.  Dhis has specific cab number on it!  That be your cab,"he said flatly.

   Tom accepted the ticket, smiled, and thankfully left the concourse from hell. 

   "And I thought that Newark NJ had been my worst airport experience!  I'm not staying at this hell hole any longer than I have to," he said to himself, mumbling.  "The place doesn't even have seats!  I couldn't ever sleep here, even for a couple of hours.  I'd be robbed for sure."

   Tom remembered a long night in Newark airport, in the early eighties.  He had missed his late night flight by five minutes, and had to stay at the airport for 5 hours - through the night. He slept with one eye open, and held onto his bag tightly then.  This was much worse.  Something he never imagined for an airport - especially in a major city.

   Tired and now a little cranky, Tom walked out of the terminal and into the mass hysteria of the cab pool.  Literally dozens of cabbies were congregated there, in a mass of  tiny black vehicles with open sides.  The cabs were roughly the size of Yugos, without doors.  They were three wheeled affairs, that looked like they belonged in a ‘Roger Rabbit' cartoon.

   "Whatever!" Tom thought, "just pick one, show him your ticket, and get out of here," he decided quickly. 

   As he walked outside, he was assaulted by ten or twenty cabbies waving him their way.   It was dark, confusing, and he was quickly met by two men who cut through the crowd and spoke directly to him.

  "Please, you are to ride with me.  Let me see your ticket!"

   Taking his ticket in hand, the man nodded and confirmed that Tom was his fare.  "My cab is this way.  Come with us!"

   Seeming like the only sensible guys in the crowd, Tom started to follow them.  Then, he got worried as they led him into a totally dark area of parked vehicles.  There was no one in the area, while the other areas had lights and many people.  Tom's internal alarm went off, and he slowed his pace to nearly a stop.  Just as he was about to turn  around and run back to the terminal,  a man came running up behind him and began screaming.  Startled out of  his senses, Tom started  running back to the terminal......now far away.  The screaming man didn't give up, and passed Tom screaming even louder.   Tom was puzzled, and turned to see what was up.

  "Get out of here!  Thieves! I cut you!" he screamed at Tom's previous leaders.

  Tom then realized that the crazy guy was defending him against his abductors, and was  his real cabbie.  After chasing off the thieves, he came to Tom panting with exertion.

   "Let me see your ticket.  I am your cab driver.  Those sons of devils would take you away, and rob you!"

   Comparing Tom's ticket to his paper, he showed them both to Tom to convince him.

   "See cab number 401!  That is my cab, see?"  He showed Tom his ticket, with Tom's destination written on it, and walked Tom to his vehicle that had a number 401 painted on its body.  Tom was convinced, and relieved.  He trusted the fellow.  While the others seemed to look at him like hungry tigers, this driver was eager to please, and obviously sincere.

  "You are very, very, lucky my friend.  There are some very, very bad people here.  I am so glad I found you in time!"

   "Would they have robbed me?" Tom asked, although he knew the answer.

    "Most certainly.  And, thrown your body away where no one was to find it!  Now, what hotel are you staying?"

   Tom was not only shocked by the fact that he had nearly been robbed and killed in the first 15 minutes outside of the airport terminal, but more so  by the man's casual reference to his near demise.

  "I'm in a different world.  I can't afford to let my guard down, no matter how tired I get!  Keep alert, idiot!" he told himself. 

   The airport terminal, as horrible as it was, seemed like a safe haven now. 

   "How can I be sure this guy isn't going to try to do the same?" he worried.  "Watch the roads, and be ready to jump," he instructed himself.

   The ride was uneventful, but scary in its speed and random lane changes.  The only vehicles on the unlit, and very rough, roads were monstrous old trucks that had to be dodged at every turn.  If Tom hadn't been so scared from the airport incident, and worried about his present driver, the ride would've really upset him.  As it was, he was happy to have the option of throwing himself out of the vehicle through his open side....if need be.  And there were a few times when he felt that the moving roadside was marginally safer than the crazy road.  There were no street lights, so it was pitch black.  Street signs were nonexistent, and the trucks seemingly came from nowhere, with blinding lights and blaring horns.  Tom was convinced that if they were hit by a truck, they wouldn't even stop to look for the pieces of his cabbie or himself.  Death was in his face from the moment he walked out of the building, and the heavenly smell of dried eucalyptus filled the heavy, humid air. It was a strange combination.

   "Here is your hotel," the cabbie announced, as he pulled up to a four story, tenement styled building squeezed between what should have been two condemned buildings.

   "This can't be it," squeaked Tom meekly.  "Take me to another place."

   After what seemed like two hours of travel, really about 45 minutes,  Tom had gotten to know his driver and had come to trust him enough to think that he wasn't going to rob and kill him.  The man  was too small for that.  So, he was willing to trust the man's  judgment for a better place to stay. 

  "There are no more places.  You must have reservation.  No places would be open, or open doors after dark.  This is your hotel, see sign and paper?  The names are most certainly the same.  So this must the exact location."

   "Yeah, I see....but...."

   "No matter, we get you inside.  They will expect you."

   After getting indoors, and seeing the cabbie off with a large tip for saving his life, Tom walked up the three flights of narrow, dark stairs to the reception office.  The man in charge was a well educated, middle aged man, who was quite pleasant.

   "For how many days are you staying?"

   "Just tonight.  I leave on the train tomorrow."

  "Just fine.  Here is your room number."

   "Is there a key?"

   "No key, we don't use keys here.  Too hard to open if people don't want to leave."

   All Tom could muster to that was: "Oh, ok," and he went to his room.

   The room was a box with a bed and dresser in it, and a bathroom next to the bed.  Tom had to climb over the bed to get into the bathroom.  The bathroom was a shower stall with a large hole in the floor that served as a drain, and a toilet.

   "Well, at least its clean!" Tom joked to himself.  

   But he worried about security, especially after his airport incident.  So, he shoved the dresser up against the door, and the large bed up against the dresser.   Afraid that he would get some kind of lice or bugs from the bedding, he lay on top of the stained blanket.....with most of his clothes on.  He awoke a few times, to odd sounds of creatures running around the room.  Finally, he turned the lights on, only to see some vague shapes run through the shadows and into the hole of the bathroom floor.   If he hadn‘t faced death that night already, it would have bothered him.  But as it was, he merely left the lights on and fell into a fitful sleep.

   The morning brought new hope into Tom's awareness.  He decided to eat breakfast, and leave on the first train to Kathmandu.  He packed his things, feeling raw from lack of sleep; and went directly to the office area where  the strangely urbane clerk resided, listening to a radio.  Beside him, a  wall of windows were all open unto a large, multistoried,  courtyard.  Strange and exotic sounds blew in past the gauzy white curtains, as did strong spicy smells from many kitchens.   Tom could feel the city coming alive, and while alien in many ways, it was strangely enticing. 

   "Would you prefer milk in your tea?" the man asked without ceremony.

   "No thank you, sugar will be fine," replied Tom cordially.

   Tom told him his wild story, and the older man listened in an attentive, but patient, way.  This was a story that he heard many times before; only, as he recounted, "with not so pleasant endings." 

   "Be thankful for your deliverance.  Your calling must be strong indeed."

   Tom had told him about the strange ‘pull' that brought him to India, and towards Tibet.  He expected a dubious look, but the man took it very seriously. 

   "One must not question something so strong.  Just because it is not explainable, or understandable, does not mean it isn't very real.  Just that our understanding has not been as fast as our hearing.  You must learn to trust your inner voice."

    Surprised, in a way he never expected to be in the dump of a hotel, Tom enjoyed his respite with the intriguing gentleman. 

   "Yes, I have a son at MIT; and my daughter is married to a very respectable doctor in Berkeley, California."

     In his first twelve hours in India, Tom had been scared to death, saved from robbery and real death, coped with bugs and animals in his bedroom, and was now having his most civil tea ever with a most incongruent proprietor.  Just when he didn't think he could have any more surprises; in walked an eager, if nervous, French Canadian man from British Columbia - with a large yellow pack strapped to his back. 

   "Life can't get much stranger," Tom thought. 

   But, little did he know.  His adventure had just begun,  and Philip was only the first installment.

                                                      *********

                "I'd like directions to the train station, please,"  the tall, thin, man asked the Indian proprietor in a clipped and obviously edgy tone.  "I want the first train out of Delhi," he demanded, nervously, as if the man could deliver anything.

   "It would do no good to go there now," replied the Indian. 

   "But, I must.  I need to leave Delhi immediately!"

   "I understand how you feel," interjected Tom.  "My name is Tom, yours is?"

   "Philip."

   "Where in Canada are you from?   And, oh, where are my manners?  Would you like a spot of tea?" Tom said in an openly silly way, with a jovial laugh as punctuation.  "This, after all, is India.  Best damned tea on the planet, a?"

"I'd love to, but I have to get going," he replied with an equally game laugh.

"So do I, but again.....this is, after all, India, and the trains......  Well, lets say, they are on their own time schedule.  What our host is trying to tell you is that the station doesn't even open until noon.  Its only 7:30 am now, so we have a lot of time.  Might as well set down your pack and relax.  The station is only a few blocks from here, and I'm going there as well.  I'll accompany you, if you like."

   Visibly relieved, Philip took off his pack and sat down.  As he sat, he emitted a big sigh of relief. 

   "Thank you.  I would like that. I felt like I was the only person around, and......"

   "Yeah, I know.  I can guess how you feel.  I had my own misadventures last night.  I'd like to hear yours first, however.  I‘ve only now just calmed down from mine."

    Philip's dark brown eyes glowed in concert with his big sincere smile, as he told Tom his stories.

   "By the way......how did you know I was from Canada?"

   "It was the yellow backpack that gave it away!"  Tom joked.  He purposely avoided anything serious, and poked fun at everything to lighten Philip's  spirits, and to calm him down.

    "Seriously, its a game that I play with myself - guessing the origin of the people I meet.  Lots of clues go into the guessing.  Accent, bearing, posture, affectations, language, etc..."

   "You play with yourself?" Philip quipped comically.

   "Not ordinarily in public, mind you," Tom retorted without hesitation, but with a big conspiratorial

grin.

   Within the hour they were travel buddies, and they headed off to the train station together.  Both were happy, and relieved, to be traveling with someone they could trust, whose company they could enjoy; and  who would watch their backs in the strange, and often harsh, world of India.  As they walked through the slowly awakening streets of Delhi, towards the center of Connaut Place, they had to step over scurrying rats underfoot, and around huge piles of trash.  The filth was something  Tom had heard about; but the reality was entirely more repulsive.  At the train station they waited in line for two hours, only to be told that the trains were sold out for three months time.  Philip was immediately dejected, and his spirits nose dived once again.  They walked outside of the stifling hot ticket room, into the dusty and parching space between the main buildings.  Tom could see that Philip was not only upset, but physically exhausted as well.

   "Stay here, and watch our stuff.  I'm going into the official tourist bureau office, and ask around.  Someone in line told me that first-time visitors to India can buy first class tickets  there, and that they keep a certain number aside for people like us who are new to the place."

   "Ok.  I don't think it'll do much good, but what do we have to lose?" Philip moaned dejectedly.

   "Cheer up, its going to be fine.....we'll figure something out, ok?"

   "Ok."

   Within two hours, Tom was back with two first class sleeper car tickets on the next train to Varanasi.

   "How did you do it?"

    "There was a nice woman there who helped me out, and gave me this reservation requisition form.   

    And then  I had to pay a little extra to the guy at the ticket window.  This is, after all, India.  The capital of bribery.  They don't pay these people anything, and they expect to be bribed.....its part of their income.  One of the few perks of a public service job, you know!" Tom said jokingly.

   "Thanks," Philip said sheepishly, yet happily.

   "Don't thank me, you owe me a few hundred Rupees!  And, I expect you to carry my bags! And......"

   "Stop, stop! I get it.  I'm now your slave, huh?"

   "Naw, slaves went out of style a long time ago. Consider me your ‘benefactor.'"

   "I think I'd rather be a slave!"

   "Please yourself.... Slave!  Hurry with those bags, our train leaves forthwith!" he said with a silly flourish.

   "Really?"

   "Really!  We have to run...."

    They grabbed their bags, and with a renewed sense of energy they ran through the complicated and convoluted maze of platforms, rails, and pedestrian bridges to the place where train number 4058 was to arrive.  The train was, of course, late. 

    "Hey, why didn't you get us seats on one of those ‘air cooled' trains?" Philip teased, as they sat on the platform and watched trains come and go.

   "Because those old things are worse than the open air cars.  If the air conditioning breaks, which it often does, you can't even open the windows.  Its much worse than open cars.  Anyway, when the trains are moving, the heat isn't so bad."

  "Really?"

   "Hell, I don't know, but it sounds good, huh?"  Tom said with a laugh. 

   They had hit it off really well, and were both were surprised that they trusted each other so quickly and completely.  Tom had left all of his belongings with Philip, after knowing him for less than two hours; and Philip trusted Tom's judgment.   Well, most of it.

   "Hey, Philip, I wouldn't eat those things," Tom said as he pointed the little vegetable snacks on grape leaves, that he was about to swallow.

   "Why, not?" 

   "Everyone, including the Lonely Planet guide, says don't eat it if you can't peel it, boil it, or buy it in a sealed package."

   "Tom, when in Rome....."

   "This ain't Rome, and this place is full of sickness.  Didn't you see those poor bastards that we walked over, and around, when we ran to the train?  I swear one of them was already dead, and a few more weren't far behind."

   "They're sick from other things, or starving.  Don't worry so much....."

  "Ok, its your stomach.  Just let me know if you feel sick, I have a big supply of antibiotics in my bag. My doctor friend in Washington gave me a pile of samples before I left.  You're welcome to whatever I have."

   "Thanks, but you worry too much."

  The train pulled up to the platform as they were talking.  It was well organized, and clearly numbered as to platform, train, car, and berth.  Tom was impressed with the organization, if not the conditions of the train.  The sleepers turned out to be rough, hinged, beds that swung down and locked into a set position.   

  "Crude, but effective," thought Tom.

    At one of the next stops, a young woman from Texas came aboard, as did a Japanese student named Sinjin.  They all were in the same car, and naturally grouped together to talk and travel together.  At one point they were all in the same berth, and two creepy Indian men walked into their space, and sat down exactly opposite of Susan, openly leering  and staring at her.

  "This isn't your car, or your seat! Go away!" Susan said harshly.

  Tom was surprised at her rudeness, but they were lecherous guys, and they wouldn't stop staring at her.  It was like they wanted to have sex with her, right there, immediately.  Both were overweight, extremely ugly, and smelled like pigs who had rolled in their own shit.

  "Repulsive is the word I'd use," said Tom out loud, inadvertently.

  He was surprised at his vehemence, but the guys had only gotten worse with Susan, and moved in to sit on either side of her.....squeezing her between them.  Tom was getting concerned for Susan, and upset by the aggression in the guys.  He'd never met such obnoxious men before.  All of the other passengers were pleasant people, but none did or said anything to dissuade them.   Then, an old man spouted something harsh at the two guys in Hindi.  The two just waved their hands at the old man, and pushed closer into Susan.  Philip and Sinjin were surprised as anyone, and didn't know what to do.  Susan, meanwhile, had lost her bravado and was visibly wincing. 

  "Do they understand English?" Tom asked Susan.

   "Yes, enough to know I don't want them near me!" she said with intentional malice.

  It was too much for Tom, and he rose from his seat, and stood before the two men.

   "The lady says you're crowding her, and she wants you to move.  Get out of here before I throw your sorry asses off the train!"  By the time he was done, he was shouting into their faces  Their  sick little smiles disappeared, they got up in tandem, and walked away grumbling, down the length of the car, then on towards another car.

   "Jeez, I'm sorry that I lost my temper, but crap, those guys were weird.  I came here to learn to be calmer, and I seem to just get more pissed off!" Tom said in an embarrassed tone of voice.

   Tom looked around to gauge the reaction of the other passengers, and he received only pleasant smiles in return.  Evidently, he wasn't the only one who didn't like the creeps......but, he was the only one to do anything about it.

   "Susan, how do you put up with that kind of crap?"

   "Well, I used to get mad like you did. But when you are a woman traveling alone, no one will defend you, and it only gets worse if I yell at them.  They think all white women traveling alone are loose women, and that we want to have sex with anyone.  So, they come onto women like that!"

   "Ewe," said Sinjin disgustedly.  Everyone laughed at his reaction, and the mood lightened in the berth. 

   "I'm surprised the locals don't stand up to them."

   "Its not that kind of culture, Thomas.  Its everyone for themselves here....except if you are family, friends, or whatever.  Its hard traveling alone as a woman here."

   Tom didn't say it, but both he and Philip exchanged knowing looks.  They both agreed, silently, that it had been hard on Susan.  She looked beat up, and emotionally exhausted.  She was a tough one, but still.....it wore on her, and it showed.

                                                          *******

   As the long day neared its end, the blanket of darkness fell completely upon the countryside; and the passengers began to lower their sleeper beds into position, so that they could lay down as intended.  The only problem was that there were more people than beds.

   "Susan, what do we do?" Tom asked.  "These are our seats, right?  How do we ask them to leave?"

   "You don't ask, you tell them.....bluntly, and in their face.  Otherwise they'll just sit there - even though they know they're your seats.  This is considered first class sleepers, but they wander in from second and third class, and will take whatever  they can get.  The other areas are crowded and messy."

   "Jesus!" exclaimed Tom. "If this is first class, I can't imagine what its like in the other areas."

   "You don't want to know, or find out.  Always travel first class, or don't travel."

  Then Susan got up, and started lowering the bunks.  She didn't wait for people to move, she made it clear that they were going to get hit in the head with the heavy metal bed, if they didn't move.  It worked, they all disappeared, and they had the berth to themselves.  As everyone found their own bed to sleep in, Susan gave them her last bit of advice,

  "Put your suitcases in bed with you,  lock the zippers up, and lock the handles to the chain on your bed.  They'll come in the dead of night, and rip your bag away and be gone with it before you can even move."

   "Really?" Asked Philip naively.  "Isn't it going to be cramped to sleep with your bag?"

   "Its either that," replied Susan, "or you lose all your stuff.  Which is more inconvenient?"

   Not waiting for an answer, she continued: "Remember, lock your zippers too.  I had a friend whose bag was there in the morning, locked tight to the bed chain, but it was completely empty.  Its up to you what you want to do.  Good night!" she said bluntly, as she rolled over to sleep with a small smile - full of  pride from her practical, and therefore superior, Texas  advice.

   "Beware the panty raiders!" joked Philip to Tom.

   "Yeah, really....." commented Tom in reply.  "Goodnight."

   "Don't let the bed bugs bite......nor any of the locals!" quipped Philip.

   Tom smiled at Philip's goodnight joke. He moved around on  his upper level bunk, and tried to get a view of the passing countryside through the big window, but it was fruitless. It was blacker than black outside, and there wasn't a light to be seen.  Without any light, the window looked like a solid shiny wall.  He laid his head down on a roll of his clothes as a pillow, stared at the rusty ceiling, and tried to review all that had happened that day.  As the train swayed in a bumpy, but rhythmic, motion it pulled him away from his attempted thoughts, and quickly lulled him into a restful sleep.

                                                               Chapter 4 

   Origins & Futures: ‘Prince' of Corporate America  1970's - 1980's

"There was happiness in his father‘s heart, because of his son who was intelligent and thirsty for knowledge. He saw him growing up to be a learned man, a priest, a prince among Brahmins."                                                                         

                                                             -Siddartha, by Hermann Hesse

                Tom knew he was prince material.  Destined to be a  prince of the business world. It started the day that he went through the "Carousel of Progress" at Disney World.  His parents had taken him and his sister to the newly opened theme park in its second season, and the impressive Monsanto and GE exhibits entranced Thomas.  There, in the major corporate exhibits, he found a voice for his yearnings; and further confirmation of his nascent ambitions and perceptions  He saw that these companies had donated, out of their own benevolence, huge attractions that espoused their dreams for mankind. They professionally presented their view of American history, and a bright future of economic supremacy.  It was not only inspiring, but one of the first major revelations in his heretofore short life.  He felt that this was where he was destined to go.  It felt ‘right,' and he knew that he had to do whatever he could - to be accepted as a executive prince of America.  He knew that he would feel at home, and in his element, in a fortune 100 company. 

   "Only the best will do,"  he concluded. 

   There, he felt confident he'd receive the best of training; and gain complete freedom of expression, by being  guided by the most principled and intelligent people in the world.  These, he felt, were the people who were building the new world.  Those who had the insight to perceive possible futures, the resources to pursue them, and were thereby able to work towards their creation.  He felt that if he did anything less, his talents would be wasted and he would surely wither.

   As a child he worked hard to make money. He delivered newspapers, sold packaged seeds door to door, and even set up concessions at town events.  But every attempt ended in discouraging results.  He achieved all that could be achieved in any one task; but it was never enough for his burning desire to have it all.  So, to Tom, those were  inadequate results.  Then, he saw it. The allure of corporate America.  Business corporations seemed to be the answer for everything. The best of them  appeared to be the epitome of logic, efficiency, and public largesse.  There, in these kingdoms, Tom saw order; justice as a natural outcome of  supremacy, and the power to make a difference. He saw an opportunity to have all the resources at his disposal to achieve a life with less struggle and strife.  A better life for his family, for whomever was affected by his accomplishments; and, for himself by achieving true self fulfillment through a fair, objective, and beneficent princely rule.

   This was how he embarked on a sincere, and seemingly noble, path.  He was a product of his times, it was the 1970's.  The establishment had been overrun by the long haired hippies of the 60's.  They had apparently rooted out the evil through public demonstrations, and open resistance to meaningless war.  It was the dawning era of corporate responsibility for the public good.  Or so it seemed.  America was in the process of shaking off its damaging addictions to psychedelic drugs, and awakening to a new economic dawn.

  Tom could feel the changes coming, and through his middle school years he could see that many people didn't understand the coming changes.  They were too damaged from drug use, and self absorption.  It was the focused, directed, and persistent that would rule - and he was destined to become one of them. 

   His friends still did crazy things, wanting to hang onto the rebellious ways of the 60's - even though it was now 1972.  Some did lines of cocaine on their desks, while the lights were out during film study class.  A few of them had group sex under the auditorium stage, while the rest of the school was assembled above for the first, and very controversial, public educational films in ‘sex education.'  The irony was not lost on them.  In fact, they kept trying to make a statement that no one heard, or maybe cared to hear. After the race riots of the late 60's, no one was concerned with 'free love' issues any longer. It was passe.  So, Tom's classmates were lost in a self induced fog, a time warp of sorts. They were a little too privileged to feign neglect, but not so much that they could afford their expensive habits.  As a result, many turned to petty crime to keep themselves in drugs. A favorite target were the nice, and mostly vacant,  vacation homes on the neighboring lakes.

    Not Tom though.  He kept clean, focused, and pure for this true calling - as he felt it.  Building his résumé as those around him partied themselves into brain damage with acid, cocaine, and psychedelics.

   He progressed  on to be a leader in Junior Achievement.  A program sponsored by ‘only the best corporations.'  He rose to the highest post in J.A., as president of the Achiever's Association governing board.  He spoke at local Rotary Clubs, and attended the National convention at Indiana University, in Bloomington, Indiana, during the summer. 

   There, he was again assured of his true path.  Mr. Simon, the Secretary of the U.S. Treasury, whose signature appeared on every dollar bill, told him and his thousands of peers so.  He was to be a prince.  If, he could stay the course, not fall to any temptation that would sully his growing reputation, and continually exhibit his pure intentions and sincerity. 

   He desperately wanted to belong, to excel, to prove his brutal classmates wrong by surpassing them; and, this was the path.  A path that led him to Holy Cross College and Notre Dame University for further training in character, while he learned the more banal details of the world in academic classes.

   A path that then led to the best undergraduate business school in the country, the University of Michigan.  He  had a plan, early on, and he worked it; while being surrounded by less motivated, mostly blind, and sometimes clueless peers.  He knew the true path, and he pursued it zealously. 

   He blazed a trail, he believed; while following the guideposts that had been meticulously, and subtly, laid out by those in charge.

                                                  ******************

                The gray Ann Arbor skies drew Tom's emotions and feelings closer together, eliciting a sense of comfortable security rather than winter blues. As he sat in the café drinking his now cold cup of coffee, he peered out of the window, in a near catatonic trance.  He was physically there, but not really ‘there.'

   "Yet, it's all cool," he thought.

   He was content, and simply happy to be lost in his thoughts.  He reveled at the luxury of being removed from day-to-day survival.  To be able to reflect on new information, concepts, and dramatically new perspectives,  without distractions.  It was wonderful to be in a place where he felt so much at home.  Here, everyone  thought of things with due consideration; and loved to constantly discuss all manner of ideas and topics. It was intellectual freedom, and a cerebral challenge that fired Tom's senses.

   The café smelled of freshly roasted coffee beans, and only a few  muffled voices penetrated the lulling background music - effectively filling any remaining emotional vacancy. 

   "That's why it seems so comfortable," he thought randomly.

   The close gray skies held down his spirits, while the smells of coffee filled his olfactory senses.  The muted audio sounds provided the remaining sensory filler he needed, but they could easily be ignored. He felt  cozy and comfortable. The world was at peace in his mind, and nothing even remotely intruded upon his peaceful state. As Tom mused over this, David entered the café and waved hello.  He walked in a slow, deliberate, and confidently relaxed way directly to Tom's table.

   "Hullo Thomas.  A little spacey today, are we?" he said with a good natured voice and warm smile. 

   It was one of David's most endearing qualities. He could  make fun of something obvious about a person, while turning it into a caring compliment.  In the end, he provided reassurance that all was ‘ok'  anyway.....without any apparent judgments.

    Tom laughed, and responded without hesitation.

   "Its something that I'm trying to learn from you.  But, I just can't seem to perfect it the way you do!"

   "Ha! Yeah, right! Piker."

   "Blah, blah, blah..." Tom counter without hesitation.

  "You ready to go Tom?"

   "What's the rush?  I'm fine here....well, for a bit longer.  I'm watching the sun go down."

   "The sun?  In Ann Arbor?  Are you daft?  Its just winter dreary here. It always is...."

   "Ahhh, that's where you are wrong, my friend.  You're just oblivious to the subtlety of it all since you grew up here.  For those of us who just move here for school, its  a great environment for introspection."

    "Like I said, boring and dreary!"

   "Ok, you win.  I'm just feeling good, and the cloudy skies seem to be embracing, not oppressive."

   "The whole fricking place is oppressive to me.  I wish I'd stayed in Wisconsin.  At least they knew how to have fun.  These guys here at the business school are way too wired for me.  They're kind of uni-directional in a weird sort of way.  Obsessed, I guess."

   "Well, I agree, there is a noticeable lack of balance in people's lives here.  That reminds me of a story of what happened today.  But before I go there, just remember that they're training us to be the best and the brightest,  to inherit the earth.........well, business wise, anyway.  What could be more noble?" he joked. "That requires focus, David, focus," he said facetiously, with an overly serious emphasis.

   "Well, lets focus on that pimple on your ass. Its more important!" he quipped with a hearty laugh.

   "Damn, I didn't think you saw that.  Guess I can't go to the gym showers with you anymore, if you're looking at my ass all the time!"

    This was how the banter began, and proceeded, and ended.....most all of the time they were together.  It was fun, amusing, and lifted the onerous stresses of attending the best undergraduate business school in the country.  David and Tom both attended the business school, and while worlds apart childhood wise, they were partners in their contempt for their anal and ruthless classmates.  Some were totally absorbed with business and education. So much so, that everything in their lives fell second to that burning drive to dominate.  The two year program, junior and senior years at college, only had 500 slots for undergraduates.  That  resulted in classes of only 250 students per year.  Admission into the program was fierce, with thousands of applicants for those 250 slots. So, everyone had at least a  4 point average in their first two years of study, wherever they were from.  That put David and Tom into a shark pool which Tom, for one, was challenged to survive. 

   The academics were tough, as expected; but the backbiting and treacherousness of the students was a new thing for Tom. It was a hard adjustment for him to make.  David seemed to remain above it all, due his wealthy family background.  He openly distained the environment, and people, for what they were.  He understood the people, he just didn't respect them; and therefore, he refused to be guilt-tripped into accepting their narrow, self serving, culture. 

   Tom and he had met in Micro-economics class. Tom sat in the front row, and David sat directly behind him.  As outrageous comments were made by their stressed out professor, his barely audible comments made it to Tom's welcome ears.  Tom would laugh as he heard them;  providing him with a life saving monologue that kept him from totally freaking out. 

  Tom‘s first traumatic experience came during his first week, when his professor gave a lecture about "the perfect nature" of the economic system that "Knew everything, and adapted quickly and efficiently to all new developments and changes."

   According to the white faced and sleep deprived professor, who was stressing his publishing record....or lack thereof....in an all too real environment of ‘Publish or Perish,' the stock market was God's indicator of reality.  To him, everyone just had to accept that; and follow the ‘efficient market,' wherever it took the world.

   Tom, a budding entrepreneur who worked his way through high school and college by buying and selling everything from lumber to antiques at low prices  and then selling them for huge profits, was shocked at the absurdity of the man's premise - something upon which the bright young professor staked all of his reputation. Tom was unable to restrain himself. He was concerned that he might've been really ignorant, and that  professor was trying to teach him something he was too dense to understand.  "How can a guy this smart, at this great school, be wrong?" he worried silently.

Tom raised his hand and interrupted the lecture to ask a question.

   "Yes?  What is your question, hmmm.....Mr. Walthrum?"

   "Sorry to interrupt," he started, but was interrupted himself.

   "No problem, I want this class to be interactive.  I hate lectures myself, and I'm sure you all have something valuable to add,"  the professor interjected, putting Tom into an even more nervous mode.

   "Jesus, I'm sooooo going to make a fool of myself with this, why did I raise my hand?" he asked himself.

   He answered himself just as quickly:  "Because his perspective is skewed; and if he continues on with everything based upon this fallacy,  I won't be able to accept much of anything.  I‘ve got to be missing something!"

   Choking down his nervousness, Tom boldly continued on with his seemingly heretical thoughts. "Oh well, what the hell.  I might as well let him know who I am!  It might even help my grade for him to see that I'm thinking and paying attention." 

He started speaking, framing his question carefully:  "Well, I think I understand what you're saying about an efficient market that absorbs and adapts to changes and new information; but that's limited to what's fed into it, isn't it?  For example, all the SEC reports, filings, and public announcements made by companies become public record and are supposedly assimilated into the market ‘consciousness' by analysts, and buyers, et cetera.  But that also means that  the market can't possibly know everything that's going on.  It only knows what it's told.  Those reports are purposely obtuse, and therefore offer very little real life business information.  How else can we explain the purchase and sale of undervalued companies, asset wise, and the profits people make on doing things like that?  People find companies that have assets valued at historical rates, due to deprecation and dated accounting practices,  understanding that the assets have a much higher market value than their book value.  So they buy the company cheap, cut the company apart.....usually shutting down the production parts and firing all the employees; and then, sell the physical assets for a huge profit.  So my question is:  if the market is really as omnipotent as this guy would have us believe, that couldn't happen, right?"

   Tom was relieved and pleased with himself.  Relieved, that he didn't bumble his thoughts, and then stumble in nervous speech.  And pleased, that he articulated his idea fairly clearly.  He had started, what he thought as, a new and interesting discussion on an otherwise dry topic.

   Laughing slightly at Tom's apparent naïveté, the red headed professor rubbed his chin with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand as he pretended to consider Tom's point.  His right elbow rested in the cup of his left hand, and he looked like the perfect example of a respectable intellectual.

   "Well, Tom.  It is Thomas, right?"

   "Yes," Tom affirmed with a sincere and totally clueless smile...thinking that the guy was being forthright in his consideration of his question.

   "Well, Tom......" he started again.

   Then came his authoritative, and thoroughly condescending, reply.

   "What you are describing is a great example of how the market is all knowing.  Through the example you are giving yourself, you can see that the market self corrects for temporary gaps in knowledge.  If the markets didn't self correct, that wouldn't be the case, eh?  You see, Tom...and you guys, Tom brings up a typical misunderstanding. So, its good he brought it up.  Its because the market is informed of everything, that its so efficient.  Of course there are temporary little gaps, but those are corrected quickly, eh?"

   Flustered, yet still not accepting that he was the one that was truly naïve, Tom threw himself totally into the way of the conveniently simplistic theory, and the professor's narrow perspective.

   "But professor, how does that account for the knowledge that executives have about what's happening within their company?  They always know what's going on better than outsiders, so how can a small investor from Iowa compete with that?  It seems to me that the market works very efficiently for those people in the know, or for those people who can see an opportunity that others can't yet. People who conceptualize a new way of looking at business.  For example, some people can perceive an oncoming paradigm shift that people too married  to ‘what has always been' can never see."

   "That's why there are inside trading rules being enacted, Thomas; so that everyone who participates in the stock market has equal opportunities to invest.  No one is afforded an advantage over others."

   "Do you really believe that's possible, given greed and human nature?  It seems to me that the stock market is a formalized way to fleece the uninformed and inexperienced people.  A way to use other people's money for whatever purpose.  How can a doctor in Peoria know as much about the market as a fulltime analyst?  He spends his time being a doctor, so he can't by default know as much.  So, if you just extend that thought a bit its simple to see that......"

   "Mr. Walthrum, Mr. Walthrum.....we don't have time to debate simple given facts.  Read the chapter on market dynamics, and I'll be happy to discuss it with you one-on-one some day."

   Surprised, Tom abruptly shut up, and  his cynical ‘friend' Bruce  snickered with a silent look of:  ‘you are sooo naïve, Tom. You just don't get it, do you?' 

   As Tom was beginning to feel totally trashed, the period bell thankfully rang. People lurched out of their seats,  glad to get out of the classroom. Then Tom heard a friendly, disembodied, voice from behind him. 

   "First, lets assume we have a can opener....."

   Tom didn't understand what the guy said, but he could tell it was good natured, unlike Bruce's unspoken and gloating comments. He turned around to see where it had come from.  He saw a tall, blond headed guy with deep blue eyes who looked  more like  a surfer dude than a business student.  The classroom was nearly empty.....the professor being the first one  to bolt out of the door. Tom guessed, to avoid further discussion.  Tom knew that the offer for a ‘future one-on-one discussion' would never come.  He could read the fleeting, but scared, look in the prof's eyes when he didn't relent. It forced the man to review his own perceptions, and exposed his fear that something could challenge the foundations of his ‘perfect system.'  The man's mind snapped shut, thereby avoiding any possibly unsettling review.  By rationalizing a way to dismiss Tom's observations, he was able to hold onto his limited view of the world.

   "What do you mean? Tom asked.

   "Well, I think you hit a little too close to the truth for comfort.  You've got to remember that economists don't really deal in reality - even though they pretend that they can model it on a computer," he quipped sardonically. He then continued on talking, to reinforce his observation.

   "There's an old joke about three guys stranded on a desert island.  One guy is an engineer, the other an accountant, and the third is an economist.  They have one can of beans. Its their only food, and they're trying to figure out how to open it.  The engineer suggests that they ‘knock down a tree, and position the can on a hard surface so that the tree would smash it open.' Not satisfied with that messy idea, the accountant says: ‘lets write down some calculations on what it would take to get the can open, and work on the problem until we're sure that it's right before we do anything.' No one could agree on either approach, so the engineer asks the economist what they should do to open the can of beans. His response?   'First, lets  assume we have a can opener......'"

   David delivered his joke with a  good natured laugh for emphasis, and then continued to explain Tom's misstep. 

   "Tom, you're challenging this economist's assumption of how the world works.  He'll never accept it, otherwise he'll have to re-evaluate everything; and as a result, he won't ever be able to be the expert who can say that he has all the answers. It means admitting that he doesn't have the answers. It would mean that the stock market isn't what they are trained to believe it is, and what they are trying to convince us ‘uninformed' folks it is, so that we'll dump our money into that black hole. Therefore, they have to say that the market ‘knows all' so that it'll be trusted by investors. Once people lose confidence in the stock market idea, the 'experts' and ‘legal' crooks lose everything."

   Both impressed with his logic, and with his compassion and patience in describing basic politics to him, Tom instantly respected the guy.  He'd shown him something he'd never thought about before.

   "What's your name?"

   "David.  David Hewmay."

   "Thanks for your help.  I was getting a bit upset,  and was beginning to doubt my own logic.  It seemed like he was saying something stupid; but then again he is the professor, and is smarter and more educated than me....sooo....."

   "Maybe he's more educated, but I don't think he's smarter than you.  Well anyway, his values are certainly different than yours."

   Again, Tom was hit with another revelation; and it was a bit much for him to handle. He'd never considered that smart people would pretend one thing, and do something else; and worse yet, try to ‘educate' folks erroneously.  He still believed that education was the ultimate pursuit of truth.  Now however, he was forced into considering that some ‘education' was to train people to do and believe certain things - for someone else's, or some groups, ultimate benefit - regardless of the effects on others. For the first time, he had to consider that even really smart people tried to mislead others, rather than to elevate people's intellect to some higher plane of awareness. 

   "After all, isn't truth always truth, whatever it is?" he questioned himself.  "And the only impediment to discerning the real truth is the lack of education?"

   Sensing Tom's broiling thoughts, David broke the silence.

   "Do you have lunch plans, Thomas?"

   "Nope.....sure don't, want to go get something to eat?"

   "Yeah, lets."

   They went to lunch, and discussed all kinds of things.  Most weren't  very serious things, but  they began to see that they had a lot of values in common, even if their lives up to then had been quite different. Tom was immediately impressed that David's dad was a high level executive at an auto company.  As such, David had received many benefits from that level of exposure and resources.  Tom also learned that David liked the avant-garde dance troupe of Alvin Alley Dancers, French impressionist's art, and the silly comedy of kooky comedians at a smoky little club called ‘The Blind Pig.'

   David opened up a fascinating new world for Thomas, and they became fast friends.  Months later, they found themselves meeting at a nameless café on a Friday evening; both trying to keep each other from going nuts in an environment with crazy values, where ‘being the best' was the only real objective.  Tom was happy to be associated with, and to learn from, talented and brilliant people; but, their obsession of ‘excellence at all costs' had its casualties. 

   Some were obvious, they jumped off the Bell Tower to  messy, but colorful deaths.  Trying to make one last attempt at a statement that would be heard.  Others just got beat-up emotionally, and felt  either stupid, or like failures.  Still others, like David and Tom, supported each other in a hostile environment.  They became determined to survive, to grow, and to learn what not to do,  as much as what to do. 

   Their mutual ‘pact' was to beat the system.  Learn it, exceed it, work outside it, and retire by 35.  Their mutual challenge was to be the first one to make a million dollars. The 'winner' would then pay for a sailing trip around the world for both of them.  It was a noble goal, one that required material success without the sacrifice of principles.  One they were both fully prepared to achieve.

                                                      ***********

                "Hello Mr. Spacey!  Anyone home?"  David's voice  broke into Tom's silent thoughts. "You always call me spacey; yet there you sit,  blank as a white piece of paper!"

   "Oh, hmmm, sorry big guy.  You caught me on that one!  Wadda you want to do tonight?  I hear that the Fraternity RUSH  parties are going to be fun!"

   Happy about his quick recovery, Tom knowingly baited David to react.

    "Oh, o.k..   Lets go join a fraternity.  I need someone to pick out my friends for me; I seem to be doing a bad job myself!"

   "Ok, ok I give.  I promise not to aggravate you anymore, tonight!  So, lets do a movie.  Wasn't Jack going to meet us?"

   "I thought so.  So was Alan."

   "But Alan has crew practice for a race tomorrow."

   "Yeah, they're going to Wisconsin to row."

   "Don't you want to go  David?  You know, to visit your alma mater and all?"

   "Nope, I loved it when I did it, but its a bit of a cult thing.  You either belong, or you don't.  If you decide to have a life instead, a.k.a.  quitting, the guys just bug the hell out of you to come back.  For most of them, its their whole life.  As God is my witness, and you know what I think about God, I don't know how Alan does it.  I'd flunk out of B school if I had to do early morning practices, and weekend regattas."

   "Its too bad that there can't be a middle ground, huh?  Why is everything either ‘all or nothing' here?"

     "That's the way its gotta be, smart one, if you're going to be ‘the best of the best!'"

    Laughing, Tom replied: "Well, lets be the ‘best of the best' friends, ok?  And just go and have fun."

    "Fine with me, Mr. Wacko!"

   "Ok, enough compliments!  My ego just can't take anymore.  Lets go to that new sci-fi movie.  Its called  ‘Aliens.'"

   "Ok, fine with me.  Lets hit it."

   Within minutes, they were on their way to the movies. Tom felt good that David chose to be with him.  Due to his extremely handsome looks, nice disposition, and home town advantage, he could be with just about whomever he wanted to be; and to Tom's delight, he wanted to be with him.  They always enjoyed each other's company, and never really disagreed about anything. 

   Tom believed that David knew much more about the world than he did, and that he therefore humored Tom's naïveté; but even that was ok, because it just showed how compassionate, nice, and caring David really was. In return, David was safe saying or doing whatever he wanted with Tom; and, he respected Tom in some way that he never really explained.  It confused Tom even more, as they grew closer; but he accepted it. 

   They spent spring break together at Vero Beach Florida with David's parents, and had great fun.  It was on that trip that Tom learned the truth about ‘guys who have it all.'   David did have it all.  He had looks, charm, athleticism, family money, and a bright future.  Yet, he always seemed to be looking for something indefinable.  He tried many things to ‘find it,'  then dropped them as they proved  to not satisfy his unspoken desire.  Tom could tell that sports had been a huge thing for David before he came back to Ann Arbor.  But that hadn't filled the void. He could have any girl he wanted, yet sex didn't seem to drive him any longer either.  He  wasn't looking to get married and his values wouldn't allow for leading girls on for his benefit. So, his romantic liaisons were always brief.  As a result, that left him plenty of time to spend with Tom, discussing all manner of topics. Both enjoyed their sessions, but Tom always wondered what sadness was hidden deep inside David.  He didn't seem the worst for it, he just seemed unfulfilled.  Like his life had already been planned out for him, and he was just going through the motions.  To Tom, that was nirvana.  To know you had the security of family, and the financial resources to pursue your dreams.

   Tom's course was much more uncharted, and therefore more risky.  Much too risky for David's tastes, but that wasn't going to change; whether either of them wanted it to, or not.  Tom felt like he was the upstart from across the tracks, but was willing and able to succeed nonetheless.  Maybe it was this that attracted the two unlikely friends. Mutually learning about each other's variant approaches to life. Regardless, David was nicer and smarter than any friend Tom had before, and he was a breath of fresh air in a stressful place. Being together made the treacherous task of B-school at Michigan into a fun, albeit challenging, experience. 

   Growing up in a small rural town,  Tom hadn't even met people from  New York before; and although  he liked them, he also found that many were  ruthlessly competitive in school. It was a whole new level of competition that Tom never  imagined.  While it inspired and challenged him to do greater things, it was also very hard on his feelings of self worth.  David really helped him in that way, and gave him the courage to face just about anything.

   As for David, he often spoke of Tom in glowing terms that Tom didn't really understand, but still appreciated.  David had two close childhood friends from Ann Arbor, but both had left the city to go to college elsewhere.  One was a wirily little guy, who beamed with positive energy.  The other was a buff and handsome fellow, who seemed to glow with hidden virtues.  Tom could tell that David loved them both.  One for his energy and positive attitude, and the other as a role model and personal hero. Tom met them only once, briefly, and held no jealousy for their relationships with David.  If anything, he felt sad that he had never been able to have childhood friends with such character, and longevity.  Because of this, he felt  a curiosity to get to know these near mythical figures. But, that wasn't to be.  That was a place that was sacrosanct to David, and Tom didn't quite fit those qualifications.....yet. 

   Like throughout most of his life, Tom felt that he just wasn't good enough to deserve ‘the best.'  As much as he tried to overcome these feelings,  by going to ‘the best school' and being with ‘the best people,'  it never filled a weird gap that always existed between him and other people.  His relationships with girls were ok, but he was  the ‘good friend' they could always talk to without worry. He was the boy next door, who was more a brother than boyfriend material. As for guys, they never seemed close enough.  There always seemed to be a gap between Tom and his friends that he couldn't fill. Tom could never be too close with guys that he liked and respected.  In some ways, he felt like it was a hidden desire to be them, rather than his always struggling self.  They all seemed more composed, ‘together,'  savvy, or more ‘cool' and relaxed in their own sexuality and masculinity. They  seemed to fit together with each other more than he did; and so, he always felt disconnected from them....no matter how close they'd become over time.

   Tom's close High School friend, Alan, was a track star who'd been like a brother to him. He fit that profile. Then, there was Tony, Tom, Mike and Dan at Holy Cross College.  They'd done just about everything together during their first two years of college.  Now, Tom and David were so very close - but so very far apart. It hurt and puzzled Tom, but he had no answers.

   Andrew had become a new friend of Tom's.  He lived  in the same dorm as Tom on North campus, and they began to develop a really strong bond, but still the gap persisted.  

   David's seeming aloofness, was hardly that.  He studiously maintained a distance from everyone.  A distance that Tom couldn't grasp, due to his desire for a ‘best friend.‘  But in odd, unexpected, moments Tom would say something that would bring tears to David's eyes.  So Tom knew that whatever the distance thing was, David appreciated Tom for who he was as a person; and that was reward enough. 

   Once David told Tom that he had a certain indefinable difference about him.

   "You have  something special and unique Thomas.   A certain ‘je ne sais quoi.'

   That was the closest that he'd come in verbalizing his feelings for Tom.  Many times however,  his praise was mixed with a  ‘knowing' look that said: ‘how sad that you aren't going to achieve what you want.  If you only knew what I know.....' 

   This look alone, hurt Tom terribly.  But he didn't let it bother him, because many others had said that before to him.....out loud....only to eat their words later.  For Tom was the perennial violator of preconceived predictions.  In a way it had become a game for him, to defy people's misconceptions of him and his abilities - always achieving whatever he set out to do.  But still, he craved someone to say:  ‘I know you can do it Tom, I have confidence in you.'  Only his mother seemed to be able to do that effectively.  His father had given up even predicting Tom's behavior, or directions. He supported Tom quietly and without comment, but didn't feel like he was in a position to tell Tom what to do.  Thankfully, he didn't give Tom any negative feedback.  So lacking at least negative feedback, Tom felt supported in his efforts.....however quietly.  But as for friends, they were a puzzle to Tom, and David was the most confusing.  He was a walking enigma, but one that felt good to be around.

   "The movie just came out this week, and I heard it was really neat," was David's delayed response to Toms query about the movie.

   "Lets go then!"

   The movie turned out to be a nail biter.  When the alien creature burst out of the man's chest at the dinner table, it shocked everyone in the theater.  Both Tom and David jumped up, but Tom could see that David was literally terrified. 

   It was a revelation for Tom to see his idol scared  silly at a movie, but it also gave him even more human characteristics, that brought out Tom's paternal instincts.  He talked to David throughout the rest of the movie, trying to keep him from leaving the theater, and to relax.  The movie was much more than either of them expected, but it was exhilarating as well. Sensing David's condition, and trying to be sensitive to him, Tom spoke as the credits rolled.

   "I need a drink David, a strong drink.  How about you?" 

   Visibly shaken, David replied:  "Sure, there‘s a bar down the street."

   So Tom took David out for a double scotch, and they joked the tension away.  When Tom had gone to Disney World with David, he saw him freak out on the Space Mountain roller coaster in the same way. His very human responses were a revelation to Tom.  For the first time, Tom understood the prevalent misperception people had of big, strong, and apparently fearless guys.  Just because they were physically big, and  role models of strength and masculinity, it didn't mean they didn't fear things like  regular people did. 

   Tom finally realized something many people never seem to ‘get.'  Physically handsome, large, and confident guys were constantly pressed upon to lead when they didn't necessarily want to, or need to. 

People invested qualities in them that they appreciated, but sometimes had trouble living up to.  Having standards preset, standards that most folks could never achieve, people like David were constantly forced to be confronted with feelings of self doubt - based on wild, and sometimes silly, expectations. The more Tom was non-expectant in this area with David, the closer they got. 

   It seemed like everyone expected David to have all the answers, to be better, stronger, more confident, and to lead them the right way.  They wanted to be relieved from  having to worry about personal failures, by simply following the big guy's path.  After figuring this out, Tom was much more able to accept his personal burden.  After all, it was much easier to exceed low expectations, than to meet unrealistic....or even personally undesirable..... expectations. 

   While Tom felt that he had it tough in life, he realized that he wasn't put into the spotlight until he wanted to; until he felt really ready.  So while he felt bad that he was constantly misjudged about his abilities or possible successes, he always had the opportunity to prove them wrong.  In this way he could always feel good about doing that, as opposed to always being made to feel that he didn't measure up to some exaggerated measuring stick from people's fantasies.

   As Tom's time at business school came to an end, after a very quick two years, he began to look forward to proving himself to everyone.  David and he seemed to move apart during their last year, as each carved out his own path to future fame.  They'd become so close the first year, that Tom was disappointed that it didn't progress any deeper.  His expectations had been derailed once again.  David was of course totally polite and friendly, but one day at the gym seemed to illustrate the divide that grew between them.  They‘d just finished playing squash, David's favorite sport, and he'd been teaching Tom how to play.  But, of course, Tom's physical abilities were not equal, nor even near equal, to David's. Tom felt this acutely, and therefore had avoided mutual sports. 

   When they had run on the beaches of Florida, David's legs could stretch literally twice that of Tom's.  Tom felt totally out of his league, and he told David to run ahead - that he'd catch up.  He could tell David wasn't happy with this incapacity, but it was as obvious as the ocean and sand.  Tom felt like he could never ‘run' with him in any sport after that, and was totally insecure in sports anyway.

  Tom had been reluctant to play squash with an accomplished player like David, out of fear of looking terrible.  But they'd grown really close, and seemed to share whatever insecurities without judgments, so Tom decide to  try.  It was interesting for Tom, learning something he never expected to ever try; but he could see that it wasn't very challenging for David, and that it wasn't going to be fun for him.

   "Ok, David, that's enough!  You got me! Thanks for showing me how to play, but I don't think we're evenly matched here."

   Tom's smile never wavered, and he spoke directly to David without hint of shame or inferiority.  He just stated the obvious facts, without rancor or bitterness.

   "Yeah, I guess you're right.  You did well for the first time, though....."

   "Thanks for the charitable compliment.  I think I'd better learn with someone else though, and then kick your ass!"

   "Ha!  In your dreams!"

   "That's all I got, big guy.  Sometimes that's all we ever get.  So, let me dream big ok?"

   Laughing, he opened up the door of the squash court and headed to the showers. David lagged behind him, but matched Tom's quick gait.

   Tom reached the locker room before David, stripped off his clothes, and headed for the showers to rinse off.  Then, he went and sat in the sauna to relax.  In a short while David came by, opened the door, and stuck in his head.

   "I'm getting out of here, see ya outside."

   Tom was surprised by David's increasingly distant nature, and so he waited a few minutes until he knew David would be done, and headed for the showers himself.  Tom dressed fairly quickly, and found David sitting on the bench outside. He sat patiently, yet was strangely silent.

   "Hey, big guy.....ready to go?"

   "Goddamn.....did you see that in the showers?"

   "What?  I was in the sauna. I didn't see anything, or anyone."

   "Well, some fagotty guy was putting the moves on me."

   "Really?"

   Somewhat amused at the idea, yet still trying to be sensitive to his friends discomfort, Tom asked more about the incident.

   "What happened, did he grab you?"

   "No"

   "Did he jerk off on you?"

   "NO!"

   "Well, what the hell did he do?"

   "He looked at me and asked me if I was interested in spending time with him later tonight."

   "Is that all?"

   "Yeah, isn't that enough?        

   "Well, I understand how you feel; but I think you're taking it all the wrong way."

   "The wrong way? How else can you take something like that?"

   "It sounds to me like you should be flattered, not all pissed off."

   "Flattered?  Flattered!" the rising panic in David's voice caused Tom to respond in a way to calm him, but to still move on with the discussion.

   "Well big guy you're nice, handsome, and a good person.  Right?"

   "Wellll..."

   "Well nothing! You are. You're quite a catch. So why does it surprise you when people express interest?"

   "But in the showers, at the gym?  Can't they go somewhere else?"

   "I don't think there are many ‘nice' places to meet other men; so nope, I don't think so.  Anyway, turn it around.  How would you deal with being in group showers, naked, next to some women who turn you on? What would you do?  It sounds like he was polite, straight forward, and sincere. He probably should have waited until you were dressed, but whatever..."

   "Jesus, is nothing safe from these queers anymore?"

   "Anymore?  Wake up, David. They've been around for as long as man has been around. They're just finally ‘exposing' themselves openly.  Well, in your case, ‘over-exposing' themselves," he laughed.

   But, David wasn't in a joking mood.  Somehow the unsettling experience hit a nerve.  He was scared. 

   "Scared of how he felt about it all, no doubt," thought Tom.

   Tom knew that facing the fear of one's masculinity was the scariest thing a man could do.  It  required looking deep within; to that dark, undefined, space inside that men never even wanted to admit was there, much less look there. It was the place of ‘who am I?'  The place of self definition, self understanding, and perpetual ego questions:   ‘How strong am I?'  ‘What's my body like, compared to other men?' ‘Is my dick big enough?' ‘How much of a man am I?‘  ‘If identify with men, and feel close to them, does that mean I‘m gay?'  ‘Women are close to women. If I feel close to men, and compare their bodies to mine, does that mean I'm gay?  Women do, and they aren't. No way! I'm no woman!'

  It was the place where men faced their real feelings, desires; and, saw themselves for who they really were...like it or not....irregardless of social stereotypes that no one really fit, but most longed to be.  Rather than risk discovering the unthinkable, they needlessly shut off deep self examination out of fear of what they might find...keeping a sense of worry alive, when there was nothing to really fear. Thus they debilitated themselves, and hurt others in the process, by not facing their emotions.

   Tom could see that David had been taken to that place, unexpectedly, by this incident. It had probably been building up for a long time, and this was the thing that made it real.

   Tom didn't harbor such notions or insecurities.  He'd long ago looked at that place within him, and had reached his own conclusions.  As a result, he was comfortable with his own sexuality, and didn't fear any weirdness of being close to men; of restricting himself to Victorian attitudes that would result in shutting down his emotions for half of the people on the planet.  Tom didn't worry about being gay, he felt it was a choice.....a choice he didn't want to make.  He wanted a wife, kids, a ‘normal' life. So, he accepted his normal affiliation towards men as just a different form of love than parental love, sibling love, lover's love. As a result, he was comfortable in his growing closeness to David and his other male friends.  His relationships were really special to him, and he had resolved to not  let any weirdness mess them up.

   It surprised him that David, of all people, had this reaction. Tom thought he knew him really well.  Well enough to know that David didn't freak about anything - other than scary movies and roller coasters.

  David aversion wasn't religious, he was definitely agnostic, and not open to any form of religion other than in a academic sense.  He'd taken a ‘Survey of Religions'  course as an elective, because he believed that you could only understand someone's possible actions and reactions if you understood their religious convictions.  Religion, to David, was a distraction from rational thought.  So, his study of religion was for the purpose of understanding just how irrational some poor deluded people were. 

   It had been hard for Tom to accept David's atheist view at first, since he'd just come from a strong Catholic upbringing....including Notre Dame.  What Tom learned from the Holy Cross Brothers, however, was that religion and the church were one thing, and spiritualism was another.  Sometimes they matched, many times they didn't; and, one shouldn't let their religion, or some man's interpretation of their religion,  get in the way of their spiritualism.  The Holy Cross brothers had a mission of education, and their education on religious issues was far from dogmatic.  Rather, it was by example.  However, in the subjects they taught, be it history, math, or accounting, they were dogmatic in their intense way of seeking full understanding of things.  But not in religion.  They believed that spiritualism was the individual's responsibility. Tom had guessed that this originated from a healthy happenstance that most of the brothers had lived ‘regular' lives  before they joined the order.  This gave the Holy Cross brothers a grittiness that was both endearing, and cautious.  They hadn't been interested in enforcing an inflexible, and therefore unworkable, interpretation of Catholic catechism.

   Somewhere in life, David had been given a wrong impression of Catholics.  Given the fact that inter-faith intolerance had been the rule all the way up to their generation, this wasn't surprising in itself.  But then again, Tom was shocked at David's quick shift from Mr. Nice and totally adaptable and tolerant, to closed mindedness. It wasn't the David Tom really knew, so Tom wrote it off to nervousness.

   David had very close male relationships, and Tom was only one of them....although the strongest at the time.  While this comforted Tom, it seemed to be disconcerting to David.  After that night, they  drifted away from each other.  Busy days led to easy excuses for not getting together, and a rigorous academic schedule only made that harder.

   Tom began to spend more time with his fellow Resident Advisor in his dorm complex.  His name was Andrew, and he was from a very small town in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. He'd been raised a much more serious Catholic. Even though Tom wasn't to find out until later, this gave them a similar outlook on life.   He felt bad about the distance that grew between him and David; but he couldn't, and wouldn't, carry both sides of a relationship.  He'd long ago decided that if someone wasn't willing to put forth the effort of a mutual relationship, then he wasn't going to continue to prop it up.  Still, David held a very special place in Tom's life; and he always kept the door open for David to re-enter, if he desired. Tom wouldn't have believed how many years that was going to take to happen, however.

   The euphemism of ‘When God closes one door, he opens a window,'  must have been written for Tom; for as soon as David left his daily life, Andrew Sosskind entered.  It probably didn't hurt that he was in a dynamic environment full of bright and talented people like himself.  That, in itself, was a wonderfully reassuring feeling for Tom. 

   He'd always felt a bit different than those around him in his hometown of Niles.  He had a strange combination of smarts, drive, and motivation that others were seemingly too lazy to develop.  He'd always felt older than his years, and therefore related to people much older than himself - more than to his peers.

   High school had been a torturous experience of knowing he was on track, and right in his direction, but receiving only grudging acceptance among his classmates in return.  He didn't understand then that ‘fitting in' was all most other people could conceive of; they just wanted what everyone else seemingly had - looks, athleticism, money, things, popularity, talent, et cetera.  And, for those things to be acknowledged by everyone else. Tom just didn't care what others thought. 

   He spent most of his time in activities outside school.  Community historical restoration projects complemented his love of refurbishing antiques, and introduced him to two wonderful people. One man, in his eighties, Roger Lorenzen, was a specialist carpenter who had  made the propellers for the Wright Brother's planes in his youth.  And, a sincere a loving woman, Margaret Peterson, who was married to the school system..... and had raised many superintendents to success during her career.  She was a contemporary of Tom's mother,  and to his special mentor in his family, Rosemary Donnelly. They were the some of the first women in the workplace.  They filled the gaps during World War II, and then stayed and made lifelong contributions to many others, without due recognition.

   Tom cherished his relationships with retirement-aged people in his town.  They had so much to share, and they willingly talked about their life experiences to help him grow.  He found that much more preferable than spending all his time with kids at school, whose only goal was the next keg party.  

   Tom also excelled at Junior Achievement, a program that was designed and supported by businesses to train ‘The Business Leaders of Tomorrow. The Director of the program, and his wife, did wonderful things to encourage and support Tom's aspirations and talents. So Tom was a leader, despite typical High School melodramas.  For Peyton Place was heaven,  next to Niles, Michigan. 

   There had been a bad snowstorm that lasted weeks, the year Tom was conceived.  As a result, it seemed like every couple in town had a child that year. As such, every socio-economic group was amply represented in his baby boomer schoolroom.  None more so,  than the wannabe nouveau  near-riche of the American  executive class. Niles was a poster perfect example of Norman Rockwell's vision of America.  The ruling family, the Phylums, owned controlling interest in about everything,  and guided the town along a wonderful and idyllic path for generations.  Rosemary was special assistant to the last scion of the Phylum's family, and had guided him into generous philanthropies such as hospital expansions, a new library, and a nature preserve.  This was all to end after his, and then her, death.  But post WWII, for nearly 50 years, their will prevailed.

   The Dodge brothers wanted to open their first automotive plant in Niles, but that was deemed too industrial for the area.  ‘Move to that little town called Detroit, please,' they were advised. While Montgomery Ward, the innovative catalog retailer of the times, opened his first store in Niles.

   Niles had been settled as a mission and a strategic fort on the St. Joseph river, and over time found itself under the flags of France, Spain, and England. Later, due to its proximity to Chicago, it became the railroad hub for the region in the 1800‘s, and a fledgling Detroit was its ‘surburb.‘ Due to a limited growth policy, it developed into headquarters for low impact industries; and so, it spawned a new class called ‘corporate executives' in the 50's and 60's.

   Clark equipment, makers of heavy equipment, was located  next door.  Simplicity Pattern company made paper sewing patterns for housewives to use to make stylish new clothes.  National Standard Wire company produced railroad cars full of the wire used in most everything being churned out of factories all over the United States. Kawneer, the cornerstone business of the city, revolutionized commercial construction through the innovation of using extruded, anodized, aluminum for office tower windows and doors. And places like Bendix Corp., supplied auto parts for the booming auto industry. All these companies required smart and aggressive executives to grow and thrive....or so they thought.  As a result, Niles developed into a precursor to suburbia. 

   Niles thrived on  prosperous light manufacturing, diligent family farming, and an idyllic downtown retail trade in small town America.  As a result, Tom's classmates were comprised of two groups: children of farmers or factory workers,  & spoiled wannabe rich kids. The former were basically nice, reliable, and hard working folk; the later, a mess of too much money, too little taste, and the overly permissive 70's. 

   At an early age Tom could see  where things were going to end up, and he wanted to get as far away from Niles as he could get.  Nearly all of his friends were getting trashed through easy to acquire drugs. It was a train wreck in motion, and Tom didn't want to be around when the shit finally hit the fan.  So, he had little in common with the his high school clan, and he was elated to receive his acceptance letter from U. of M. to attend the best business school of the country.  It was his ticket to the big corporations; the real seats of autonomy, power, and responsible living.

    "Keep your nose clean," he counseled himself over and over, "and learn all you can so that you can join the real privileged class of America ...the fortune 100."

   That was his goal.  U. of M. was the method of developing the skills, and connections, to open those doors; and his boundless ambition,  was the vehicle to achieve his goal.

  It was 1980, and he was surviving, and thriving, at U of M; and swimming with players of similar ilk.  However, he had a disadvantage that he was unaware of, one that  would throw him onto an unexpected course in time.  It wasn't his modest upbringing, his Catholic education, his lack of sports/social skills, or his limited capital resources.  It was a curse that his father had placed upon him.  A curse for a successful life of unrestricted business.  His father, and mother in fact, had quietly, deceptively, and serendipitously imbued his character with a sense of  conscience.  It was this ‘flaw' that inhibited Tom from learning all that he could have from his ruthless, and singularly obsessive, business school classmates.  It was the unconscious acceptance of this fact that pushed him towards his new friend, Andrew; and the even stronger conscious denial of it, that pushed him towards his future wife, Sally.

   Maurice Blin, a French artist who spent his last forty years of life in  Ste. Anne's mental hospital, said it best:  ‘Follow a woman, and she will flee.  Flee a woman, and she will follow you like a shadow.'

   They had met at a party in their dorms.  It was a Valentines Day dance, and she was a pretty petit thing that swung easily when dancing in Tom's arms.  Tom naively mistook their neediness as love; and, his calculations for a family, as planning.  It started well enough, with all good intentions on both parts, but both people were clueless about real love.  Tom did what he thought was expected of a rising executive. He married a college sweetheart, and took a high level job at a huge consumer products company.  Although he loved her, he didn't know how to love her; yet, he felt that good intentions could weather anything. This was the ‘right' path for him, he was sure; and, it  all went according to plan. His life was falling into place, and it resembled his image of the best kind of life. A combination of  TV's  ‘Brady Bunch,'  and ‘Father Knows Best.'

   For her part, she saw someone she thought shared her values, and she tried her best to live a happy life.....as she perceived a perfect life.  Tom was into being successful, rich, and powerful......being part of that was attractive to her.

   He had achieved his goal from childhood, and snared the best job offer of his graduating class.  With his accounting and finance major, he was accepted into the ‘financial management development program' of the firm.  He, and his MBA compatriots, were the golden boys of their generation.....and treated as such.

                                                             ***************** 

                Tom's first days  at the multi-national corporation of his dreams were permanently etched into his memory - such was the impact of him having, finally, ‘arrived.'

   The offices were white....very white. The white walls and white carpeted floors were tastefully framed by beautiful cherry wood trim; and narrow, impossibly tall, elegantly curved French doors with beveled glass. Everything was immaculate, ordered, and perfect in its proportion, placement, and harmonizing elements.  What little color there was, resulted from subtle changes in whites and creams.  They flowed together to create a manmade environment nearly as perfectly balanced as an untouched natural setting.

   The place had a strange effect on Tom.  He felt awe, inspired, and a sense of manmade order that commanded respect in its totality.  It existed outside of normal time and space, above everything that could possibly be disturbing in the everyday world of the city.

   The environment was meticulously designed to be comfortable, and inviting, while being unassailable.  Visitors here were at the mercy of whomever came to get them. Otherwise, they felt abandoned to the subtly intimidating perfection of it all. 

  "These people must be right.  The place projects superiority, through a high quality version of simplicity," Tom observed silently.

   Only the best materials were used, regardless of their practicality.  Materials that wouldn't survive one day of heavy continual foot traffic.  Thus making it clearly evident that only the privileged few were allowed upstairs to the 14th floor reception area. That, of course, was managed too. 

   Access to the entire floor required a special security clearance, or the escort by a special person assigned to that task.

   Then, when he approached the big reception desk, it was an experience in itself. The woman there was trained to never look busy, and to appear to only serve visitor's needs; while she simultaneously maintained a quiet stranglehold on admission into the inner sanctum of the corporate elite - the floors above her, that rose progressively higher in esteem, as they rose in space.  

   Silence and enforced calm  ruled. It was easy to forget that this wasn't a naturally occurring phenomena,  a contrived human construct meant to invoke the very feelings that it did in Tom, and  all visitors. Behind the scenes, it took a lot to support this setting.  The receptionist had her own assistant in a back room that she could talk to at any time over her invisible microphone. Cleaning was almost perpetual, but done in an invisible way.  And, silent, hidden, surveying camera eyes were everywhere.

    Unlike a real natural environment, this place protected itself; and was obsessed with the perception of balance, rather than an evolved state.  It looked like it was an improvement above natural environments, but it still was only a temporary construct.  Just another creation of  men to reassure themselves, and others, that they ruled supreme over everything....including nature......24 stories above the ground.

   No matter how perfect appearing however,  such an environment, such an image, required a lot of work. Man's shaky hold on his perception of superiority and control, no matter how impressive it was, was tenuous since it wasn't a natural state.  All works of man eventually fall, as a result of  this reality of the planet.  Nature eventually rules, except where humans destroy it in their arrogance and ignorance. Why man fought it, rather than complimenting it, was an eternal human puzzle. Maybe it was because  barbarians have a propensity for action first, as an expression of strength and power, rather than the kind of disposition that encourages compromise and coexistence. But, Tom didn't understand any of this. The feelings the place evoked were exactly those which were intended, and Tom felt like he had finally graduated into the big league.......the corporate elite.

  After years of planning, and a dogged persistence in gaining an excellent education in accountancy, finance, and business law, his hard work had paid off.  He was ushered into the top floor offices of the President, and the Vice President of Finance, within fifteen minutes of arriving.  He had been expected, so he was efficiently and warmly presented to the men in charge.  Then, he was given his first office.  An office whose exterior wall was floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall glass.  It provided a commanding, bird's eye, view of San Francisco and the bay.

   "These are the places where the powerful people work," he observed, as he looked out of his office window at the beautiful city.  "Building and managing companies that recognize character, self correct any mistakes, and inspire imitation by those not so ‘together,'" he believed.

   Tom felt a wonderful sense of power and control by association; and the heady feeling of success that it engendered.  

   "I'm one of the chosen few to have the opportunity to learn under the best teachers," he concluded. 

   His perception was enhanced by a corporate plan, that was initiated by the top executives through the creation,  and cautious management of,  their ‘Financial Management Development Program.' Through this, Tom's ‘golden boy' group was constantly given privileges associated with the highest levels of management - visible signs of status and power that spoke to everyone.  They were given window offices, beautiful wooden desks, a selection of original art; and, above all, direct access to the highest levels of management.

     Existing employees were clearly being informed to leave the ‘bright, fair haired, golden boys' alone.  They were the chosen successors to present management; and the builders of the new corporate world. The bringers of fortune, in their inscrutable ways.  They were the princes of America. They were the MBA's and BBA's of the early 1980's. Bright, and imbued with the ruthlessness of inexperienced intelligence, they had all they needed to succeed; and not much of the developed conscience to understand the consequences of their dramatic actions.  They were perfect tools for radical change, and unabated opportunism.

   Tom was proud of his highly honed intelligence and abilities. He had worked with, and graduated with, the best and the brightest.  He was not only exposed to every known business concept, and corresponding methodology for implementing them, he absorbed the knowledge voraciously.  It felt good.  It felt ‘right' because it felt powerful, and  seemed like positive and productive action.  All the things young men adore.  Tools, knowledge, and the chance to use them to build and change things.....to make their mark....to show their stuff......to exhibit for all to see, their inherent right to superiority.  And, in Tom's case, vindication over all those who had marginalized him in the past. 

   He had already ‘won' over them now, and he was compassionate enough not to rub it in. Instead, he wanted to go further, to achieve unassailability.  This was just the starting point, an opportunity afforded to very few, so he felt justly privileged.  Tom envisioned a form of immortality by aggressively seeking dramatic successes, that would result in major changes and improvements in the world.  Achievements like new factories, better living standards through higher quality products.  Permanent things that would endure beyond his career, and make him rich in the process. He was a willing disciple of a new order that would change the world forever. He had purposely chosen a corporation which was an apparent  leader in social responsibility, highly profitable, and flush with the cash to facilitate growth.   The company gave free products to disaster stricken areas, redeveloped a ghetto area in Oakland California for its headquarters, and manufactured high quality goods in model manufacturing plants around the country.  Tom had seen the new facility in Fairfield, California, and the corporate commitment to research and development.   He had done his homework on his new employer.  He firmly believed the euphemism of the day, ‘Its hard to soar with the eagles when you are working with turkeys;' and therefore, he  made sure that he found an eagles nest in which to learn. 

   Once he started work, he was given near carte blanche by upper management.  With his deft decision making and analysis abilities, and lacking the sensitivity born of experience, it wasn't too hard for Tom or his peers to earn their wings.  Tom found inefficiencies everywhere, proposed changes, got permission, and then made correspondingly sweeping changes in business practices and personnel. It was a great high for Tom to be appreciated for his abilities, and to succeed at creating huge profits from revenue enhancing practices, or cost reductions. In one department alone, he saved the corporation tens of millions of dollars through his reformation of the corporate billings and receivables.

   Tom felt he was finally at the level where his decisions mattered, and he was best suited to make them, given his training and abilities. This was his niche, and it felt wonderful and powerful to see the dramatic effects of his changes.  For the first time in his life, he truly felt in charge of something, and he was able to exhibit for everyone to see, and reward, his innate abilities.  Life was good, and Tom felt on a direct path to material and career success.  He congratulated himself on all of his planning over the years, and all of the hard work it took to get here, and then to know what to do once he had the opportunity.

   He had been right!  His naysayers, the ones who took an easy route in college, were wrong. His career was going places, and they hadn't even gotten off the blocks yet.....and Tom knew, they probably never would. The best corporations were very selective of whom they chose to groom for leadership; and indecisiveness and inattentiveness weren't  desired attributes.

   "If you didn't care enough, or weren't aware enough, to look out after your own interests, how could you possibly serve ours?" That was the unspoken question. 

   Tom was proud of the fact that he'd broken the sound barrier in Corporate America, right out of University. 

   "Now," he cautioned himself, "I just have to pick my projects for success, and not mess up this opportunity. I won't get it again, companies don't accept broken goods. Be cautious, keep your own counsel, watch, learn, and then implement changes. The only one who can screw you up is yourself, Thomas."

   "Ok.  Well, that's not going to happen!" he reassured his anxious self.

                                                                  Chapter 5 

                                              The Looms of Benares

                "All along the shore lay great fleets of vessels laden with rich merchandise.  From the looms of Benares went forth the most delicate silks ........and in the bazaars, the Muslims of Bengal and Sabres of Oude were mingled with the jewels of Golconda and the shawls of Cashmere"

                                                                               -Lord Macaulay, 19th century

                The breeze blew gently, yet steadily; caressing Tom's bare skin, while he watched the silent drama unfolding below......as life awoke on the Ganges.  The third story balcony on which he sat, overlooked the wide sleepy river,  had no railing, and extended precariously over a multitude of stone steps that seemed to lead nowhere.  They ended somewhere beneath the water, as though they were the entrance to an underwater kingdom.  Leading nowhere, they extended everywhere.  As far as Tom's eyes could see, the steep stone steps  mirrored the curving riverside; and descended steeply from the sheer stone walls of the ponderously tall buildings to deep under the water's edge.  To Hindus, the Ganges is considered the source of life,  the vehicle of absolution; and resulted in the daily cleansing of one's soul through diligent ablutions.  It was also the source of food, and the resting place after death.  And finally, it was the place to take a much needed bath - or to wash your clothes. 

   The seamless nature of existence on the Ganges flowed as steadily and gently as the current.  A child played with a small boat, scaled exactly to his father's fishing boat, and smiled warmly as he enjoyed the sun and water.  Then, he looked up to see a procession of people carrying a departed loved one to his funeral pyre.  Always the same, in big and little ways, one was continually reminded of the never ending cycle of life while on the Ganges in Varanasi.  And odd as it seemed from a western perspective, it was calming, reassuring, and comfortable to Tom. It was a reminder of the inexorable turning of the wheel of time; and, our lives as part of that flow.......and thus,  the river spoke.

   "Thwap, Thwap, Thwap," the rhythm of the clothes washers slapping their wet objects against the large flat stones punctuated the dialogue of life. 

   How they got their clothes so sparkling clean was a mystery to Tom,  but they did.  As far as he could see, there was an unbroken line of buildings with steps extending into the waters.  Whether they were palaces, guesthouses, markets or temples, it didn't matter - their steps were covered with a huge, brilliantly colored, patchwork of drying saris , shirts, sheets, pants, and bedclothes.   Nothing was sacred, while everything was sacred.  This was the paradox of Varanasi; formerly known as Benares, during its apex of influence.  Every day was the same, as it had been for thousands of years.

   "Hullo Thomas," a disembodied voice spoke behind him, as he watched the river life far below.

   "Eh, good morning Colin," he replied as he turned to face him.

   Colin's infectious smile and good humor, in a wiry and agile frame, pulled Tom  back into conscious awareness.  He was an energetic young guy of 18 or 19 years, "and full of  piss and vinegar," Tom commented to himself.

   "You're  up bright and early, mate!" Colin said in a crackling, and happy, cockney vernacular.

  "Yeah, I slept on and off all night, and then couldn't get back to sleep.  I gave up trying at around six a.m., and I've been up ever since.  Is Luke awake yet?"

   "That?  E's a sleeping beauty, that one, e is!  Me? I can't get more that four hours of sleep at a time, and e will go eighteen without a thought."

   "Maybe he's got a lot to process," suggested Tom.

   "Naw, e's a lazy bum, that one."

   Again, Colin beamed with a mischievous smile that reminded Tom of Oliver Swift.  Colin's' smile faded into a melancholy visage though, as he suddenly fell silent.  Filling the prolonged empty space, Tom picked up the conversation.

   "So, Colin? Why did you guys go to Sri Lanka first,  before coming here?"

   "Well, me buddy moved there wit is family a copple years back, so we wanted to see ‘em.  But, after our flights were booked, and everythin arranged, his mum's work moved ‘em again! So, rather than change things, we just went there anyway.  Jeez, what a place!"

   "Didn't your family worry about you being off like that?"

   "Well, me mum doesn't really know the places we are going, and me Dad moved out a few years back, and I don't see him anymore." 

   Remembered pain was reflected on Colin's face; then, just as quickly, it was  replaced by a bubbly smile.  After an hour-long discussion, it became clear that Colin and his dad had been very close until he had an affair, and broke up with his mother. 

   "E's a different person now.  He lies, e's mean to my mum...tho, e is the one that messes up.  Anyway, I don't want him in my life until I am strong enough in myself  to not be effected by ‘is behavior.  It hurts too much, and messes me up otherwise."

   "I understand what you mean.I admire your strength and intelligence in dealing with him on your terms. I think you're doing the right thing; but I expect it hurts both of you, to not be together like you were." 

   Close to tears he nodded, and then smiled. Tom let the silence take over as they both watched the activity along the riverside.  It put Tom into a reflective mood. 

   He was in  the land of Buddha, near the place where he gave his first lesson in 500 B.C.. It reminded Tom of the Dalai Lama's words on suffering, empathy, and compassion.  Tom knew that he lived the Buddha's ideals; and as such, he'd taught that everyone needed to accept that all people have suffering to varying degrees and for various reasons.  Also we can empathize with their suffering, by at least recognizing it; although, we may not be able to eliminate it. By doing this, we're being compassionate by easing their suffering, even if just a little bit.  The profoundness of the apparently  simple concept still reverberated  within Thomas's awareness; and with his  brief exchange with Colin, he could feel welcome confirmation of the healing power of the truism.  He'd just practiced it with Colin, and it had worked.

   Breakfast was ‘pancakes' with bananas.  Actually, they were more like heavy crepes with chunks of banana on top; but they tasted good.  His order had gotten messed up again,  and his lemon pancakes never appeared. So Tom spoke to the man who ran the guesthouse.

   "Sir, what have you charged to my bill?  I only got one of my pancake orders."

   "Oh, very sorry, sir.  Do not be worried, it must be fixed," was his terse reply, as he continued walking.

   Placated, Tom sat down to reconnect to his thoughts before Colin had shown up, but it was too late.  By then, Philip and Luke had appeared, and began an animated discussion with Colin.  Weather he liked it or not, the day had begun. 

   "Might as well make the most of it," mused Tom.

  He began working  on the details of a sightseeing tour of the ancient temples scattered around the area.

   "Hey, Philip? Are you up for a day of Temple Tours?"

   "Yeah, sounds cool to me.  Susan wants to visit deer park in Sarnath as well, eh?"

   "Sure, we'll put it on the list.  Luke, Colin? You guys up for a cab tour too?"

   "Sure!  When do we leave?"

   "About noon- running till about seven o'clock.  The driver will cost 600 Rupees, that's 120 Rupees a piece,  roughly three U.S. dollars at the current exchange rate for Indian Rupees."

   Just as everyone was signaling agreement with the nodding of heads,  the house boy appeared with three more pancakes.  On one plate there was a banana pancake.  On the other, there was a lemon pancake, and another banana pancake.

   "Jesus, I give up.  God knows what my bill will be like.  If their bookwork is anything like their service, I'm screwed," whined Tom, unconvincingly.

    "Hungry Colin?" he laughed, and passed the plates over to him without waiting for a reply.  He already knew what the answer would be.  Colin smiled broadly; and so the day began......

   After breakfast they set off to find the cabbie that was to give them their tour of the city temples.  The booking man in the guesthouse had told them that they had to walk to the cab. He gave them seemingly simple directions, yet as they got off into the streets and away from the guesthouse quarters, they began to get confused  fairly quickly.  The old narrow streets that twisted through the ancient maze of structures along the Ganges were too narrow for cabs, or any kind of vehicular traffic.  Even so, Tom  thought that the cabbies would still have driven on them if there hadn't been  gates and doors  that went straight across the street, between some buildings.  He thanked whatever God that kept the cab traffic off the streets, but it meant that they had to walk quite a distance to get to a main street with car traffic. It was a long circuitous route through dark, and previously unexplored, streets. The whites of people's  eyes shown from the dark shadows, as they  gazed out of the buildings; or looked up from ground level, where they maintained their tiny shops.  

   The width of the streets wasn't much wider than arms length. Tom could almost touch the  buildings on both sides of the street by extending his arms outright.  The buildings themselves were ancient, tall, and contorted into undecipherable shapes.  Tom tried, but couldn't get enough distance from any one building to see the whole thing at once.  The height of the buildings, the balcony windows, the ever pervasive darkness, and the twisting narrow streets kept full views obscured.  The only thing that was clear to Tom was that the stone buildings were the oldest manmade structures he'd ever seen.

    Even with the filth of cow droppings, and mysterious other feces, it was a homey and generally pleasant environment.  The faces and smiles were sincere, and generally happy.  The living conditions were brutally simple, and possessions nearly non-existent; but there was the sense of a close, and warm, community.   Little kids scampered under foot; barefoot, and barely clad.  They were dark skinned little sprites, giggling, laughing, and playing with the simplest of toys. 

   Tom watched one child as he stood by an old man's shop, looking longingly at a jar of candies.  The wizened old man, with a long beard and frail body, smiled at the boy, opened the jar, and gave him a candy.  The child was ecstatic, and ran back to show his father who was sitting further down the street.  It didn't  seem like much, but the child's reaction was amazing.....like he had gotten a large piece of gold; and, then there was the painfully clear fact that the old man had next to nothing in his little shop.  Tom quickly assessed that he could buy everything in the man's tiny shop for about $10.  The man had so little, yet he shared it so generously.  The act of giving was bigger than anything Tom had ever seen.  Most people could easily give out of excess; but in this case, the  gift was more than a sacrifice.....it was generosity and nurturing at its best.  Tom was stunned to experience this on a downtrodden and pitiful alleyway of rural India.  He'd expected abject poverty, poor living conditions, overpopulation, and starving people like he had seen in Delhi.  He never expected the spiritual strength he saw in the people of Varanasi; and  the close knit community they shared, and supported.  Shocked into silence, Tom realized that these children......seemingly deprived of many things.....were happier that most children in Marietta, Georgia, his home, where children were given nearly every advantage.  And while he knew that people at home loved their children, he had never witnessed such a close bond between neighbors, children, and parents - such was the depth of open giving of themselves, and the loving support of each other.    

   "We have everything material and healthcare wise that most people could ever imagine; yet here they're much, much, richer,"  Tom observed with melancholy clarity.

   Moved beyond words, Tom fumbled in his pockets for  money and bought a ton of stuff from the little old man.  The man's face had reflected his expectation of not selling much of  anything, and the benign acceptance of his barely subsistence life.  He smiled at Tom, as if in appreciation; but more importantly, with a sense of love.....and shared values.....even though neither of them could understand each other's language.  Tom's action wasn't condescending, or pretentious, it was of the same vein of the man's care and compassion for others; and, it was accepted as such. 

   Tom  realized that the others had gone on far ahead of him, while he had lingered. He smiled one last time to the old man, and hurried down the street.  After about ten buildings, the alley street branched off at a ‘Y' shaped intersection. 

   "Which way did they go?" was Tom's sub-vocalized question. 

   The street to the right seemed to be the correct one.  The foot traffic was heavier there, and it appeared to lead somewhere; while the left-hand branch looked desolate.  So Tom pressed his way through the now crowded street in search of his friends.  After passing about ten or twenty buildings, it was impossible to tell just how many much less remember them,  the street opened up to a large intersection of  two fairly wide roads.  Vegetable, fabric, and flower vendors lined the streets; and a man stood in the very center of the busy street with a cart, selling some sort of fried foods.  The place wasn't incongruent with the narrow streets he'd just left, it was just busier, wider, and sunny.

   "I can see the sun!" he exclaimed.

  The brightness was amazing, and put a new lightness on life.  Tom now understood why one of the old names of the city was Kasi - the city of light.  Just as Tom came out of the dark labyrinth of streets, he was greeted by Luke.

   "We thought we'd lost you, Thomas."

   "Nope, just waylaid a little while at a shop."

   "Itsa wild place, isn't it?"

   "Yeah, I'm looking forward to spending more time wandering through those streets.  But for now, we've got to find the taxi driver."

   Just as Tom finished speaking, a short yet energetic Indian fellow walked up to them.

   "Good morning, sir.  My name is Ravi. We ready?"

   With broken, but fair, English the connection had been made.  Ravi smiled broadly, displaying the red stained mouth of  someone who chewed pan. 

   Taken aback by the easy find, Tom soon realized why the driver had found them so quickly.  They were the only Caucasians on the street.  It was totally populated  by native Indians, and Tom suddenly felt like he'd taken a huge step back in time - into a strange land.

   "Yes, we are.  Lets go," was all that he could manage in reply.

   As they got into the black vehicle, Ravi spit a messy red mass onto the ground just outside his door. Tom winced, and got into the cab.  At first, Tom had been alarmed at the condition of people's teeth in India.  Most smiles revealed a mouthful of apparently rotten teeth. The nut based chew of leaf  & lime, called pan, was actually credited with saving teeth; but the appearance was something else altogether.

   "Tragic conditions," Tom had thought, until he'd seen someone spit a load of vile red fluid onto a nearby street corner. 

   Learning this solved two mysteries.  First, people's teeth looked so hideous because they were stained with years of pan juice.  And second, why the bases of most buildings and stairwells were splattered with blood-red stains.

   "It's just another filthy habit which probably distracts people from the true nature of India," he mused.

   As soon as the details for the day were laboriously communicated and confirmed to the cabbie, the cab launched off into the crazed frenzy of the streets.  With incredible reflexes, honed through years of experience, the cabbie honked, shoved, and cajoled his way past street vendors, beggars, children, rickshaw drivers, cyclists, and trucks.  He drove with wild abandon.  Fearing for his safety, and the lives of those in the path of the rocketing car, Tom learned to close his eyes, or to look away, during near misses.  Then, they came to a junction of roads.  Rather than to slow down to assess a good opening in traffic, the cabbie blasted his horn and floored the gas pedal  - causing the car to jump right into the mass of bizarre  movement, then through it, unscathed, onto another narrow road.

   The road was so narrow, that when they went past one temple where worshipers left their shoes lined up outside by custom, the cabbie ran over the entire line of neatly situated shoes -  a mere four inches from the wall of the temple. He apparently ran over the shoes  to avoid hitting an invalid beggar who sat on a stoop to the left side of the careening car.

   "Now I understand why there are so many beggars without legs!" he exclaimed out loud.

  After running over the shoes, the driver quickly swerved left to avoid hitting a mother carrying a baby, and walking two toddlers. As he ran vendors with carts into side alleys, the cabbie gained both encouragement and speed. Tom, sitting next to the driver in the front seat, was totally freaked out; while the guys in the back seat laughed at his reactions.  Susan commented, in a sardonic advisory tone: "That's why I tell people you can't explain India, you have to live it."

   "Live it?" Tom cried aloud.  "We're going to die in it!  Or at least, end up like one of those poor crippled buggers panhandling on the streets!  I'm going to be really pissed if I came all this way just to get injured in a cab!"

   "Oh calm down, Tom.  Its ok. These guys are experts. They have highly developed,  and quick reflexes."

   "Ok. I believe That!

   NOT!!" 

   Tom was in a near panic.  He knew if his friends in the back seat could see what he saw from his vantage point,  he was sure they'd feel the same way.  The driver, heretofore apparently oblivious to everything, joined  the conversation.

   "Ok, Mr. Tom.  You don't like my driving?  You drive!"  he said.

   At that, he raised his hands off of the steering wheel, and up to the ceiling of the cab.  Tom grabbed the wheel, and spit back: "Don't pull that shit on me!  All the drivers do that.  Drive as you have to, but go slower so we don't kill any children, ok?"

   Secretly Tom was relieved to be in a cab, knowing that they were surrounded by the heavy steel of a mid-1900's auto, and were probably safer than anyone else on the street - other than the truck drivers.   

    But striving for compassion, he didn't want to see the cab covered in innocent blood either.  Tom had resolved, after the rickshaw rides in Delhi, to never ride one of those again; and to spend the extra few rupees for the seeming safety of a cab.  But the emphasis merely shifted from the fear of ones' life,  to the fear of ending someone else's life. 

   "Its always the same guilt of life in India," he lamented, silently.  "By preserving and safeguarding yourself in food, accommodation, or transport,  it only seems to amplify the apparent insensitivity to the plight of the less fortunate."

   Eventually, they made it to the relative safety of a large road.  The Sarnath road crossed the Varuna River, which emptied into the Ganges only a few kilometers to the right, and a ‘highway 29.'  It wasn't much of a highway, but Tom was still relieved to be out of the concentrated congestion of the city, and out into the countryside.  The views were relatively uneventful, but calming nonetheless.

   "Why are we going to this Deer Park place, Susan?" Colin asked.

   "That's where Buddha gave his first lesson over 2,500 years ago."

   "Hmmm, that's interesting."

   "And good sir," interjected Ravi. "You will see many Temple, and the Tibetan Monastery  there. There is also an archeological museum  with many many antiquities.  Very rare, very rare indeed!"

   "Sounds good to me," responded Tom.

   He got nods of assent from Luke, Colin, Susan, and Philip as well.  Everyone seemed quite pleased with the itinerary, and generally just happy.

   Arriving at Sarnath a half hour later,  they approached a large Stupa, a Thai Temple, and the archeological museum.  They piled out of the car, and took their time wandering around the temples and through the museum.  Ravi was friendly, and accompanied them through the museum.  Tom paid for his admission, and was surprised that Ravi was over forty years old, yet he had never been inside the museum. 

   Tom was captivated by the large carved relief's and statues, that were randomly scattered throughout the four large rooms of the museum.   Most were not well marked, and were obviously torn from ancient temples.

    "It looks like many of these antiquities were stolen, then later recovered and put here for safety," commented Luke.

Tom had to agree with him.  There was no discernable pattern of presentation,  timelines, or cultural segregation among the displayed objects, and many were just lying upon the  floor in disarray.  Tom's favorite was a huge statue of Dancing Shiva, with arms flying everywhere, and odd weapons in every hand.
  "Wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, eh?" commented Luke, who'd walked up behind Tom.

   "Kind of scary, it is."

   "I think that's the idea" Luke joked. "The dancing Shiva is dancing within a flaming nimbus, and is stepping on the demon of ignorance.  He periodically destroys the universe so it can be reborn again."

    Tom silently studied the statue, and then Luke. He was an interesting one. Always quiet, and yet very intelligent. 

   "Maybe that's a reflection of his intelligence," thought Tom.

   Tom instinctively liked Luke, and felt like he could trust him with whatever came up.  That was a reassuring thought, and it seemed to be equally reassuring to Luke that he could trust Tom.  As a result, they walked quietly alongside each other and considered the many objects in the museum. 

   "His  dad's a professor at Oxford, and his mother a professor at the University of Chicago; or is it the other way around?"  Tom couldn't remember, but he knew that Luke was the stabilizing force in the twosome of him and Colin

   Tom could see how Colin felt secure because of that, and therefore unquestionably followed Luke's lead.  They were a couple of good blokes from Manchester; and as such, they enticed Tom into thinking he should visit Manchester someday.  They were adventuresome, yet balanced.  A good balance.

   "I think those two are my favorites," Tom said, as he pointed to a statue of four lions, and a large Buddha statue."

   "Mine too.  That one is a capital from one of the sacred columns that the Emperor Ashoka put up all over  India around 250 B.C.. I think its the only surviving one. The columns  were at least sixty feet high, and made from polished  sandstone.  Edicts of  Ashoka, who ruled all of the Indian subcontinent, were carved into the columns in Greek, Aramaic, and Indian dialects.......so all the people he ruled could read them.  He was a benevolent ruler who really spread Buddhism.  He was a unique Emperor because after seeing the consequences of  war, he was so upset by the people's suffering that he fully embraced non violence to consolidate his empire. The four lions symbolize the four quarters of the compass; and, Sakyamuni Buddha, who was known as the lion of the Sakya clan.  They are standing upon a wheel that symbolizes the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. The Buddha's ‘turning of the wheel of law.' You know, the cycle of samsara.  The cessation of the suffering of continual rebirth, through the practices of right thought, right speech, and right action -these will eliminate desires, and release us from samsara. Attachment to work, self, power, and material things hold us in the cycle of samsara.  Desires bind us to a countless succession of rebirths. This attachment can be dissolved by methodically eliminating desires, and becoming selfless."

   "Fascinating. Each time I hear it, its slightly different; but its always the same in principle," Tom commented. "Thanks for the info, I've never heard of Ashoka before.  I guess the Hindus destroyed most everything associated with him when Buddhism was squelched by Hinduism."

   Luke smiled in appreciation of Tom's compliment, and nodded - but said nothing.

  "That's his way," thought Tom, admiringly.

   After the museum, they drove around the remainder of the temples in the Sarnath area. It's said that Varanasi was the city of a thousand temples, and Tom was beginning to believe it.  The Tibetan monastery was a let down, containing only a large statue of Buddha and tons of little Buddha statues representing various Buddha reincarnations throughout time.  It was fairly new, and lacked any visible monks.  Tom was disappointed because he wasn't able to talk to anyone from Tibet, and the whole area felt a bit contrived.  Sarnath had evidently been destroyed over time, but it had been one of the great centers of Buddhism for about 500 hundred years before, and after, the time of Christ.  Tom never realized the age of the area that he'd come to visit.  He couldn't describe why he came to Varanasi, he had just been directed there by some quiet internal voice or directional signal.  The train from Delhi had stopped in Varanasi, and he just felt that it was right for him to stay.  That was how a one night layover, inexplicably turned into a two week stay.....it just felt right.  Tom decided merely followed his instincts; blindly trusting the subtle calling that he felt, more than heard.  It was a new experience for him to become more in touch with the subtleties of the faint, barely audible, internal calling.  Most people would have thought it weird, but to Tom it was a new aspect of an awareness that one only achieved through tremendous trials; and finally, through the utter calm brought on by months of quiet introspection.

   "And the guesthouse host in Delhi confirmed that just because I can‘t explain it, doesn‘t mean it isn‘t valid," he silently observed.

   In general, the structures in Sarnath now were relatively new,  ‘said' nothing to Tom, and were therefore unappealing to him.  Although, the massive excavations at Sarnath hinted at its former glory.  It was an archeological dream, but dead to life.

   "Lets go to Hindu University next," Susan suggested as they got back into the cab.

    "Is that agreed?" asked Ravi.

   "Yes, Ravi, its agreed," said Tom from his shotgun spot alongside him. 

   Philip, Luke, and Colin were open to whatever people wanted to do, and made no arguments whatsoever on anything.    

   "They're a pleasant, and agreeable bunch," thought Tom.  He again thanked whomever, for throwing them all together at the Vishnu guesthouse.

  Susan, however, was a handful.....

   "Then, I want to go to a bong shop, Ravi!  Do you know the way to a bong shop?"

   "Yes, miss I do," he said with a puzzled look.  

   Susan was from Texas, and quite forthright.  She was a bit much for the little Indian fellow, who was obviously used to women being seen, and tolerated; but not in charge.  Well, not outwardly.

   "What the hell is a bong shop?" asked Tom with justifiable skepticism.

   "Its a place where they sell cookies that have hashish in them.  They're great!" answered Susan sweetly.

   "Ugghh, o.k.," was Tom's only response.

    The other guys were similarly nonplussed, all except Colin.

   "Cool. Lets go. Can we take some home?" he asked.

   "That's the idea, silly!" Susan replied curtly, but with a mischievous grin.

   It was then clear to Tom, and to all of the guys, that Susan had her mind made up on bedding one of them tonight.  The Hash cookies were to be the ice breaker, or inhibition eliminator.

   "Its going to take a lot of Hash cookies to get one of these guys to sleep with you," thought Tom immediately as he ‘got it,' and now understood  her barely hidden agenda. 

   Tom caught Luke's eyes, and Philip's as well.  The same thought obviously registered in all of them at the same time, and they grinned conspiratorial grins. 

   Colin was clueless, and Philip took on  the look of a trapped rabbit.  Tom knew where this was going to end, and he grinned at the thought.  He knew that his roommate was going to have to come up with something creatively diplomatic to get out of this one.  Susan was a nice enough girl, but very rough around the edges; and very raw from living in India for a year as a single woman.  Tom could see that she was at her limit, and needed to get back home to come to grips with her time in India.  She was set to go to Kathmandu, and then fly through China to home.  Her time was nearly up, and she was ready for a break.  She couldn't even see how rough she was, and jumped onto Philip the minute she met him on the train from Delhi.   

    Philip was a cultured guy from British Columbia, and worked in a University.  He had a girlfriend at home, and was looking forward to being isolated in a barren area of Nepal where he would be totally alone for over a month.  It seemed desolate to Tom, but he respected Philip's privacy, and asked no questions of why he felt he needed to be totally alone.

    "Isn't it going to drive you mad to walk and walk for days, and then look up to survey where you've been, and where you're going, only to seem like you haven't even moved?  That terrain is nondescript, and changeless.  It  would drive me nuts," Tom had told him.

   "Not me," Philip said with a deep warm smile.  So Tom had let it go.

   After Susan's not too subtle advances on the train ride from Delhi, and her insistent forced bonding upon arriving in Varanasi, Philip had gotten a little concerned about her attention.  He and Tom had agreed, privately, to stick with her because she was alone.  Also she had a very strong idea on where to stay, where they had no plans. 

   "We must stay at Vishnu guesthouse," she told them adamantly.   "I had friends stay there, and they said it was the best.  Its directly on the Ghats, so you can experience the whole Ganges thing," she'd said. 

   So Tom and Philip hung along with her, even though they spent almost an entire day going from guesthouse to guesthouse by cab looking for the place.  She kept screaming at the cabbie, throughout the painful process, because he took her to guesthouses that supposedly gave him kickbacks for bringing tourists.  This concept didn't upset Tom or Philip, but it infuriated Susan. 

   "He'll make money off of us!" 

   "Who cares?" replied Tom. "So long as it doesn't cost us more."

   "Because he's taking us to the wrong Vishnu guesthouse, and other places I don't want to stay!  The real place is better!"

   Exhausted, and flabbergasted by her adamant persistence, the guys gave up arguing with her, and suggested that they guard the backpacks while she ventured about the multivariate stone steps and ancient buildings until she found: ‘the right one to stay in.' 

   She came back an hour later, happy  that she'd found the ‘right' Vishnu guesthouse.   Both Tom and Philip were pleased with her choice, and told her so; but they decided to take a double room together to forestall any awkward situations.  In fact, Tom and Philip mimicked a gay couple to divert her attentions.  Up until now, it had worked.  But Susan being Susan, she had quizzed and tested Philip and Tom to determine if they were a couple or not. They never really said they were gay, but they didn't say they weren't; and they were always very close, and in agreement on almost everything.  But Susan was persistent, and her bong shop escapade was just the last in a growingly irritating drama.  Tom wanted no drama, and he hadn't come around the world to deal with Susan's. 

   Tom made it clear to Susan that he wasn't interested in her when they first met on the train; but Philip being Philip, he loved flirting with everyone, and liked all kinds of attention.  Tom had warned him that his unwillingness to be clear and forthright about his lack of feelings for her would acerbate the situation. 

   "Oh well," Tom said aloud, as he decided to stay out of the situation. "The bong shop it is!"

   Philip gave Tom a desperate look. Tom's response was a shrug, and a look of: ‘its your problem, dude.' 

Philip got the message, and seemed to visibly shrink in the backseat alongside Susan. Tom grinned.

   The next place they visited was Hindu University.  Regardless of its obvious isolation in the middle of  nowhere, Tom was impressed by the size and architecture of the place.  It covered over 2,000 square acres, a gift from the Maharaja of Benares, and was evidently well endowed by some former patron who oversaw the construction of the unified campus.  Its centerpiece was a huge Hindu Temple, that Ravi toured alongside Tom. The temple  seemed odd to Tom, because it wasn't a place of assembly, but rather a shrine to the God - in effect, the residence of a God. The temples were meant as sculpture themselves, not architecture.  The concept itself was counterintuitive to Tom, and it was difficult to grasp - being so different than the concept of a cathedral or church.

   Tom asked Ravi all kinds of questions about the Hindu religion, the first of which was: "why do they always ring the damn bell?  Its noisy as hell, and is waaaaay irritating!"  

    Tom was surprised to find that Ravi knew very little about his own religion, and further learned that the religion was mostly a handed down, nearly all verbal, religion of the masses who couldn‘t read; and therefore varied greatly from region to region, and belief system to belief system.  Exasperated at one point, he asked:  "just how many Gods do you guys have?" 

   Ravi stopped talking, thought for a while, and replied: "Somewhere between  300 and 400.  See, you have one son of God in Christianity, his name is Jesus.  We have one God, Vishnu, who had many many children.....all like Jesus."  

   Stunned, and unable to take it all in......the strangeness and harshness of the scenes in the Temples,  the confusing array of Godheads, and the damned bell......Tom replied bluntly:  "Well, that's more than one a day. You could have one for everyday of the year!" 

   Serious in his reply, Ravi said:  "No not one for each day, one for each aspect of human nature and for each animal, like that. We don't deny the true nature of humans.  We acknowledge the good and the bad in people, and have Gods that represent those things. An avatar is a manifestation of a God, in which he performs a necessary function on earth."

   Intrigue replaced frustration, and Tom asked: "Then what is Shiva?"

   "Oh Shiva the warrior, defender, the God of deception."

   "You admire deception as a human virtue?" Tom asked amazed.

   "Yes, it is a human trait, is it not?"

   "Well, yes, but one I shouldn't want to promote or cultivate."

   "I don't understand what you say, Mr. Tom. You must ask a more learned person than my humble self."

   This response surprised Tom as much as anything else.

   "Ravi humble?"   

   But, there it was.  He was a changed man in the large and impressive temple to Vishnu, and felt unable to fully communicate his own religion.  Which seemed to humble him further, and put him into a reflective mode where he desired to learn more.  The flash of humility disappeared as quickly as it came. 

   "Let us leave now, Mr. Tom!"

   "Ok, no problem. But I have one more question.  Who is Hanuman?"

   "Oh, the Lord Hanuman is almost as popular as Ganesh.  He is the monkey God, where Ganesh has the aspect of an Elephant."

   "Will we see temples to Hanuman?"

   "Yes, it is getting late; but we can still see the Sankat Mochan Temple and Durga Temple. They are both on our way home."

   "Good. Thanks for your help in explaining things to me."

   "I feel I didn't do such good job."

   "Oh, no you have. You have done the best of all the people I've talked to.  Thank you.  You have a most interesting religion."

   "Yes, very interesting.  Very real."

   "Yeah, I got that. Thanks again," concluded Tom.

   They met the rest of the group at the entrance to the huge temple, and proceeded down the massive steps, and along the paved avenue that led to the Temple.  It was wider, larger, and better kept than any streets Tom had seen to date, and the plantings accentuated the grand promenade. 

   "I've talked to Ravi," Tom spoke to the group, as they approached the parked car.

   "Although its getting late, and we're all Templed out, we're going to hit two more Temples, quickly, on the way home.  One's the temple to the Lord Hanuman, the monkey God; and the other one's a popular temple for the locals where there are supposed to be tons of monkeys.  Does that sound good?" 

   Tom was greeted with tired groans, yet nods of assent. 

   "Then we'll go to the Bong shop Susan wanted, and  home to the guesthouse."

   "Sounds fine with me," said Luke.

   "No problem here, mate.  Just along for the ride," replied Colin.

   Susan smiled, and Philip groaned his assent with obvious qualification.

   The Hanuman Temple ended up being very old, and interesting.  The other temple, however, was something much more.

   "Oh my God, look at all the monkeys," Tom kept saying. 

   "You sound like a broken record, mate."

   "Yeah, like on the train from Delhi when you saw the monkeys at a train station," Susan chimed in.

   "Sorry, I just love the little buggers.  They're so much fun."

   "Yeah, fun.  Look at those spikes on the light poles and the rooftops.  They have those there because the fun little monkeys like to pile up there and bounce.  They bounce until the light falls, or the roof gives in," commented Philip laconically.

    "You don't sound like you like the cute little guys," Tom teased Philip.

    "I had a wonderful lens for my camera. I set it down while I was taking pictures of some ‘cute little monkeys,' and one came up and swiped it before I knew that he was even there!  He ran up a tree, quick as lightening, and teased me by playing with the lens.  When he got tired of playing, he let it drop down to the stones where it shattered.  So, yeah, the little guys can be annoying.  Watch your camera, Tom."

   "That's too funny, Philip.  I'm sorry about your lens; but wow, they're smart little blighters, eh?"

   Smiling, Philip conceded.  "Yeah I still like them."

   They explored the grounds of the temple, walking counter clock wise around the temple, circumambulating it like the pilgrims and locals did, as per proper custom and out of respect for their beliefs. Tom was happily surprised to see two wedding parties in the courtyards.  A large shed held a vendor with a large selection of sweets.  A little boy inside,  about twelve years old, wrapped candies with the ease and speed of a professional.  He smiled as Tom watched him skillfully fill little boxes with the sweets.  Tom bought a box, and told him how impressed he was with his skills.

   "Keep it up, you're doing great!" 

   The boy didn't understand all the words, but he got the drift of the compliments and glowed as a result of the attention. 

   "Well, I've made someone happy today!" Tom congratulated himself, as an afterthought.

   "Ravi?"

   "Yes, you ready to go?"

   "Almost, but I have a couple questions."

Ravi's face reflected a little concern, so Tom quickly added: "Nothing big.  No religion things, just curious things."

   Relief clearly showed on Ravi face, and he responded: "What questions?" he asked good naturedly.

   "Well, there are two weddings here. Does that happen often?"

   "Yes, very often.  There are sometimes fifty a day!"

   "Really? No way!"

   "Yes way, Mr. Thomas," he replied seriously.  "Ravi won't lie to you about such things. It is a quite happy time, a wedding.  So everyone joins in celebration, and there are very many many of them. All the time.  It is the same when children are born. Much happiness. Much celebrations."

   "Wow, that's quite a contrast to the funerals on the Ghats."

    "Yes, it is all part of life? No?  Happy new marriages, new life with children?  We live, and then we die. Its all the same.  Part of life.  Is it not the same where you come from?"

   "Not exactly, but close.  The only thing is that we've removed ourselves from really facing and experiencing death.  So, it becomes scary to people - when it's only natural."

   "Death is a time to rejoice.  Your spirit leaves the pains of this life, to be reborn better.  It is best to die in Varanasi.  Here, is closer to heaven.  Not so far to go!"

   "That's very helpful Ravi, you've been the best guide we could've had.  I appreciate all the efforts you took today with us."

   "You want to drive?  On way back to guest house?" he joked with Tom.

   "Nope you drive, and I'll try to keep quiet," Tom mocked his earlier fears.

   "It will not be so bad.  It is nearly night. Not so much cars," he reassured Thomas.

   "Great," was his only reply.

   They  drove off into the darkening evening, and navigated through the city without incident. Suddenly, Ravi stopped the car at a strange location in a warehouse district.

   "Bong shop here. You still want go?" Ravi asked.

   "Yes, great!" said Susan as she bounded out of the car. 

   The men reluctantly followed Ravi and Susan to a flat door that was nearly hidden by its nondescript  appearance.  The building lacked any signage. 

   "Looks spooky to me," noted Colin.

   "Quiet, mate.  Just follow," was Luke's advice.

   As they entered the building, they went from the darkness of night, to a gleaming new room full of light.  It was a huge bar. A club type bar with expensive seats, and beautiful lighting.  Tom hadn't expected this in the depths of Varanasi, and was further surprised when he saw cold beers being handed out.

   "I ‘eard ‘at!  I could use me a pint or two!" Colin said joyfully, before anyone could speak.

   "I'm with you, a few cold ones sound good to me."

   "We buy and leave.  What is it that you like?" inquired Ravi.

   "Just some beers, about eight or twelve. Is that enough guys?  About three each?" Tom asked.

   "Just right, I'd say. But how much r they?" asked Colin.

   "I don't know yet," said Tom, "but I'm buying.  It's my treat."

   "Well definitely then, mate. We can take ‘em back to the guesthouse, and put ‘em on  ice.  The old guy said we could keep stuff in the kitchen ice box.  I wouldn't mind getting a bit pissed meself," said Colin.

   "Great.  Then that's it Ravi. Twelve beers, unless you want some?  I'll get you some too, if you‘d like."

   "I don't drink," he said with a disturbed look. 

   It looked like he wanted a beer, but wasn't supposed to drink for some reason.  Tom just let it go.

   "And I want a few cookies," interjected Susan. 

   Within minutes, the transactions were done and they were back in the car. 

   "The place looks like a speakeasy.  You know, the places they had during prohibition?" Tom observed.

   "Well, alcohol isn't supposed to be drunk by Hindus," added Susan.

   "But hash is ok?" asked Tom incredulously.

   "Yeah, Vishnu says its ok to get high.  An altered state is closer to letting go of earthly things, or something like that," answered Philip.

   "Whatever!  I give up on trying to figure out this religion.  It seems like there's a God to justify any kind of behavior.  Like, uggh,  You can just believe whatever God who represents what you want," commented Tom, totally frustrated and tired from the long day.

   "Well, that could be said for all the types of religions, couldn't it?" queried Luke.

   "God, you don't say much; but when you do, it means something doesn't it?"

   "That's me boy!" said Colin proudly, and they all laughed.

   After they arrived at the drop off point, which offered a closer and less twisted way back to the guesthouse, Tom thanked Ravi and gave him a big tip.  The man was very happy, and said many thanks to Tom.  When they reached the rooftop patio of the guesthouse, they all found a chair and grabbed a beer.  The sky was alive with stars, and the waters of the Ganges lapped softly against the stone stairs below.  The water was alight with hundreds of memorial votive lights.  They  floated on leaves, and dropped and rose  with the ripples of the water. It was a peaceful sight. 

   "What do we owe e for the tour, Thomas?" asked Colin.

   "Well with the tip, just about what we expected."

   "You gave 'em a big tip didn't ja?  E was great, ‘at one. What a fun bloke!"

   "Yeah, I did.  He was good, although I thought he was going to kill us or maim us all at first."

    "You were frickin hilarious, Thomas.  You were so scared!  God, we were all laughing our guts out."

   "Well, you guys were lucky you sat in the back seat - it was scary!"

   "The back seat weren't no picnic either, govner.  Squeezed tight as sardines, we were. Me willy thought ‘ed got ‘is plums mashed, e did! But there was nothing better that seein you flip, mate.  What a trip!"

   Tom laughed along, and they finished off their beers. Susan then went up to her room, and got out her hash cookies.  Colin was eager to try one, and Philip went along too. Being Canadian, pot held little stigma; so he took one as it were another beer. Tom and Luke politely declined a cookie. 

   "Oh well, that much more for us!" Susan said snottily, accentuating her disgust of their reticence.

   "Jesus, she's jumping on my last nerve," thought Tom. 

   He could see that she still had her plans for Philip, and or maybe Colin; but Tom didn't have the patience or stomach to watch the twisted thing play out.  He didn't predict a good ending for her, and therefore he felt bad for her ultimate humiliation.   It didn't bother Tom that she craved intimacy or close attention; that'd be normal, and understandable.  The issue was that it was all a game to her, and she mistakenly saw the clever men as putty in her hands.  Being around her was uncomfortable, as it was her behavior that made her very unattractive.

   "Too bad she's so blind,"  thought Tom.  "She's acting just like the lecherous guys on the train."

   He didn't feel that she was going to be hurt too badly, because  she was playing a cold game of manipulation.  It was just pitiful to watch however. She had no clue as to the depth of her targets. 

   "Its not worth wasting anymore time,"  thought Tom, and he excused himself to go to bed.

   "Goodnight, you all. I'm off to bed.  Its been a good but long day, and I need my beauty sleep.  Anyway,  I need  some sleep to assimilate everything in this place. Its such a new and alien experience."

   Luke chimed in with: "Yeah I'm heading to bed too. Don't stay up too late, partyboy," he advised Colin.

   Tom and Luke left at the same time, and walked to their respective rooms.

   Tom barely got his clothes off, before he fell into the large bed.  He wasn't too hot, because of the 'air cooler' in the window.  It was a funny affair, with a metal cabinet that looked like a real air conditioner; except, it only had a fan and a shallow tray of water inside.  Silly as it was, it did help cool the room, and Tom felt comfortable under the sheets.

   He drifted off to a light sleep.  Not too much later, he heard Philip come in the room, and he felt him fumble about with the covers, as he climbed into bed. 

   Tom thankfully slept the sleep of the dead.

                                                      *************

                Tom awoke in the early morning to find Philip sound asleep beside him.  He had gone to bed fully clothed, obviously overcautious about sleeping so close to another man in the same bed.  Tom laughed at his caution, because he had nothing to fear from Tom.   Again, Tom wondered why many men were so hung up on being physically close to other people.  It was evident that Philip needed, and desired, to remain close to Tom - this being their fourth night together.  But still, he seemed confused.   

    "Why can't he just relax?"  Tom wondered.  

     "Men!" was always his final conclusive remark to himself, and was an exasperated statement of his ongoing frustration with silly hang-ups. 

   Philip's  face had an angelic look about it.  He was relaxed, safe, and peaceful in his deep slumber.  Tom felt good about that, and was happy that he could be there for him.  It also eased Tom's mind  to know that he had someone watching his back; and that he was someone nice to talk to as well.  Tom recalled a much different Philip when they had met in Delhi, not so long ago.  He had been terrified and alone when they'd hooked up.  Philip had relaxed quickly, as they roamed the early morning streets of Delhi looking for the train station and toured around Connaut Place.

   As Tom was thinking of this, he noticed some small movements near the toilet wall.  The ‘toilet' was simply a hole in the floor of a small closet, which led directly into a little stream far below.  The movement was subtle, and hard to discern with Tom's still sleepy vision.  The walls were white, and slightly dingy - with streaks of blackish gray across them.  Squinting, to see what movement his peripheral vision had picked up, he looked for a big bug.  In Delhi, he'd awoken in the middle of the night to find roaches and bugs everywhere.  He sprayed his mosquito  repellant  on his bedclothes, but that hadn't stopped them - it only slowed them down a little.  Every time he turned the lights back on, the bugs would scatter.  It creeped him out,  so he finally  decided to sleep with all the lights on.

   "God, I hope this place isn't as bad as Delhi," he pleaded.

   He slowly propped himself up on his right elbow, so not to alert any cruddy  visitors prematurely, and peered over Philip's prone, and silent, body.

   Searching the walls and floors with a more acute eye,  Tom realized that there weren't any big bugs in the room.  The gray and black streaks on the walls were actually thousands of small ants.  That was the movement that his bleary morning eyes had noticed.  Immediately he relaxed, and smiled at his unfounded fears.  He watched the mass movement of the ants ebb and flow, from floor to ceiling.  He'd never seen so many ants in a house before, and was amazed at how fast they had appeared.  He knew they hadn't been there when he went to bed last night.  Since they weren't really bothering anyone however, he was fascinated by their progression.  Stretching to look up, he noticed that they were on the other walls as well, and had  reached the ceiling. 

   "For itty bitty ants, they sure move fast," he thought with admiration.

   It was quite a distance from floor to ceiling, and they seemingly moved with a group consciousness.  He knew that wasn't true, but he believed that the willingness to give up independent thought was a requirement for such group dynamics. 

   "When there's no sense of self, its amazing what a group of life forms can do," he commented to himself in a whisper.

   Then Philip rolled over slowly,  and opened his eyes dreamily.  His smile grew, as his eyes and mind registered where he was, and how he felt with Tom.  Tom was caught off guard.

  "I must have woken him with my ant musings," Tom thought, stupidly. 

   Feeling a bit awkward, literally leaning over his sleeping friend, Tom tried to recover his composure.  Philip, for his part, wasn't concerned.  In fact, he was happy.

   "Tom's a great guy," Philip thought as he woke, half in a dream state.  

   "I wonder why I like him so much?  I guess because he doesn't want anything from me other than companionship, and he really does care about me.  He respects who I am, and we have great talks.  Does this mean we're too close?  Jesus, I'm not my sister! Just because she's a lesbian, doesn't mean I'm....."

   Seeing Philip's face change from a state of serene peacefulness and comfort, to a growing sense of panic, Tom realized  that he hadn't been worried about Tom when he went to bed with all his clothes on,  he'd been worried about himself - what might happen in his sleep. To stem his panic, Tom spoke up quickly.

  "Shhh.  Look up on the walls behind you. I've been watching the ants move in......see?"

  Thankfully distracted, Philip turned and followed Tom's gaze to the walls and ceiling.  He laughed silently, and lay still a long time watching the movement of the ants.

  "Do you think they'll carry us away?" asked Philip, teasing.

   "Maybe me, but not you."

   "Why not me?"

   "Because you aren't sweet enough!" Tom joked.

   "Sweeter than You!" Philip replied too quickly, without thought to Tom's double entendre.

   "Oh, O.k.. You'd know better than me!"   Tom jibed with a laugh, and tousled Philip's hair into a mess. 

   Continuing on, so not to spoil the moment with unfounded anxieties, Tom quickly got out of bed and pulled on his pants. 

   "Hey, you're still half asleep.  I've been awake for a long time, and am really hungry.  I'll  see you outside on the patio for breakfast when you wake up.....or the ants bring you out!   Regardless of how you arrive, I'll see you later. Take your time, and relax, ok?"  Tom said with a big endearing smile.

   "Sure. Thanks, Thomas," was his happy and dreamy reply. 

  Tom  knew just how much to tease, and when to let go; and Philip appreciated it. 

   "Its like he can read my mind and feelings,  and he still cares for me. Just as I am inside," Philip mused sleepily.  He drifted between  half awake, and half asleep. It felt good, but panic threatened to creep in.   

   "Am I that transparent to people?" he wondered to himself.

  "No, big guy.  Just to me," Tom answered his unspoken, but obvious, question.  It was written all over Philip's face.

  "And you know what?" asked Tom.

   "What?" he asked, as if the whole conversation had been aloud.

   "Its o.k..  I'm on your side, o.k.?  So, go back to sleep!"

   "Yessirr!"

   Tom left the room, and quietly closed the door behind him.  He knew Philip needed the sleep.  The train ride from Delhi had taken its toll on everyone, but most of all Philip.  It was taking him days to recover.  While Tom hadn't slept much that night in Delhi, he knew that Philip had hadn't slept at all. Tom ordered breakfast and tea.  The tea arrived quickly, as did a ravishing young French woman.  She was polite, sweet, and well mannered. They talked for a few minutes, and then she joined him for breakfast.

  "I don't know how I'll ever get to Kathmandu on time.  I got delayed coming here, and missed the train yesterday.  My friends are to meet me in Kathmandu, and we are supposed to leave there the day after tomorrow for a Trek through the nature preserve," she lamented. 

   She didn‘t whine or complain, but was justifiably frustrated and a little lonely.

   "Surely they won't leave without you," countered Tom sympathetically.

  "Oui, but they must!  Our break from University is very limited, and they won't have time for the animal preserve if they don't leave on schedule."

   "But we got train tickets yesterday to Gorakhpur.  Then, we take a bus to Kathmandu.  Susan purchased them for us.  Can you take the train tonight with us?"

  "They are sold out, and there aren't any more trains to Gorakhpur for a week.  I will have to take the buses, and arrive a few days late.  It won't be so bad," she temporized. "I'll do something on my own."

   "I know what you mean about the trains.  Even when you have a specific ticket reservation, you still have to fight for your seat.  You shouldn't travel that alone anyway, its not safe for women.  Local people  without reservations still pack the trains, so you‘ll have no chance of an open seat.  Reservations are your only protection to secure a seat," Tom empathized. 

  "c‘est la vie," she replied with a wonderful smile.  "lets have our breakfast, no?"

   "Oui," replied Tom.  "More tea, s'il vous plaît?"

   She poured another cup of tea for Tom, and they had a wonderful breakfast.   As they completed eating,   a young Dutch couple sat alongside them at the adjoining table.  They were pleasant, if obsessive, and told Tom and Margret about the wonderful silks of Benares. 

   "Do you not know?" the Dutchman asked Tom, as if he were a cretin. 

   "From the looms of Benares comes the most beautiful silks of the world.  Versailles and the halls of St. James were draped in  brocades and silks from here; and the princes of old wore luxurious fabrics from Benares, along with their jewels from  Japaphur.There's nothing finer,"he said with a wild look in his eye. 

   "It is for this reason that we traveled here on our holiday!" interjected his exuberant, and equally possessed wife.  "You must stop by our room, and see what we have purchased."

   "That would be nice, I'll be sure to do that," replied Tom politely; all the time looking at Margret, while they barely stifled outright laughter.

   Thinking about Margret's travel problem again, Tom considered something that might help them both.  He saw that she was a sincere and sweet young woman, and he worried about her traveling alone.  She'd flown into Babatpur only the day before, and taken a cab directly to Varanasi. Obviously she didn't understand the challenges of riding the busses and trains in India.  Although charming to Tom, he knew that her flirting ways would land her into big trouble.  Tom wasn't ready to commit to anything yet, but he knew he didn't want to leave on the midnight train.  He was still tired from his trip, and he didn't feel like he was ready to leave.  Something nagged at his consciousness, Varanasi wasn't done with him yet.....though he knew not why.  Susan had booked them all on the midnight train, which arrived at 6:00 a.m. in Gorakhpur.  Then the bus left shortly thereafter, for a 125 mile ride to Kathmandu. It sounded too rushed to Tom, but she'd pushed her way.  Philip, content to have women run his life for him, just acquiesced.  Tom, however, wasn't too pleased when he realized that she was trying to control them all. He was fed up with her attitude and antics, and was looking forward to being free of her oppressive presence.  She was an unwelcome distraction from his objective of calmness and serenity.

   "I have an idea, Margret."

   "Oui, what is it?"

   "Why don't you ask the booking agent in the office if he has any other ideas for getting you to Kathmandu earlier?  Then, I'll meet you at the Dutch couples room.  I would like to see their silks and things.  They sound so thrilled, there must be some reason, eh?  Then, I think I may have an alternative for you if you‘re really stuck."

   "That sounds good, I will see you soon," she agreed happily. 

   Tom walked towards the Dutch couple's room, and ran into Philip on his way.

  "Good morning, sleepyhead," Tom said good naturedly to Philip.  

   Philip grumbled something inaudible.

  "Are you ok?" asked Tom, concerned.

   "Yes. Must you always ask so much?" he replied testily.

   "No, I don't," replied Tom in kind.  "Excuse me for living.  Sounds like you got up on the wrong side of the bed!"

   "That's my affair, isn't it?"

   "Ok, whatever....." Tom's voice trailed off.

   Susan suddenly appeared.  She smiled like a Cheshire cat, and pointedly ignored Tom as she spoke directly to Philip.

   "Lets go eat breakfast now, huh?"

   "Sure," was his terse reply,  as he walked away from Tom with surprising abruptness.

   Tom decided that he was done spending time with Susan. While inept at her games, she was still a  drama princess; and he had no desire to have his growing peacefulness disrupted by her incessant games.

   "I didn't come here to get caught up in some juvenile drama with Ms. TexAss, and Mr. Conflicted.  I really like Philip, but I'm not putting up with mood swings from hell, just because he has intimacy issues.   Shakespeare said it best: ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.‘  I'll give him an intimacy experience, and take care of Ms. Bitch at the same time," he resolved with a laugh at his brilliant  resolution to the situation.

   Tom met Margret at the Dutch couple's room.  They were both impressed with the silks of Varanasi.  The fabrics were brilliantly colored, and shimmered with gold as they undulated with the slightest movement.  They were delicate, yet extremely strong, and the most beautiful fabric Tom had ever seen.  He wasn't into fabrics, but the blues, reds, yellows and oranges were  brilliant in color, and the textures and patterns were incredible. He found himself just wanting to touch them, to experience their silkiness.  The couple had purchased a significant amount of silks and brocades, and Tom could tell that they were becoming self conscious about showing their treasure trove to strangers.  They quickly wrapped them all up into plain paper bundles, and stowed the packages in torn-up backpacks and bags, thus hiding their valuables from prospective thieves. 

   "You can't be too careful in India," Tom confirmed to them, to ease their minds about his intent. 

   They seemed very relieved with his observation, and said their goodbyes.  After leaving their room, Tom spoke quickly to Margret.

   "Did you find any other travel alternatives to Kathmandu?"

   "No.  Dhere ize nuth-ing!  It is im-poss-e-ble!  I must stay  a while longer here," she said sadly.

  "I have an idea. I have a ticket on the midnight train, but want to stay. You can have my ticket, yes?"

   "Really?  Is that ok with you?  But, I must pay you for it, no?"

   "Sure, you can have it for half price, ok?"

   "Oui, that is most sweet of you.  I shall never forget your kindness."

   "It's ok.  I don't think you should be traveling alone in India.  My friend Philip will be there with you, as will a woman named Susan who met us on the train."

   "Thank you so very much," she said with a flourish.  She gave him a big hug, and feather-light kiss.

   "Ok," he said, blushing.  "Let me introduce you to them, they're having breakfast now."

   They walked to the patio area, and straight to Philip's table.  As they approached the table Philip grew wide-eyed, and his face lit up.  He obviously appreciated Margret's beauty, and graceful bearing.   Susan was sitting very close to Philip, almost on top of him, and smiled at Tom with an evil grin.

   "WhatEver," was Tom's internal reaction. "Girl, you're truly ruthless, and totally clueless - not a good combination," he thought to himself. 

   Outwardly, he was pleasant and as detached from the mess as he really felt.

   "Philip, Susan, this is Margret.  She's from Paris, and has gotten stranded here.  She needs to make it to Kathmandu quickly to meet her friends.  Since I want to stay here longer, I sold her my ticket.  You'll be traveling together.  Bon a petit!" he said blithely, and walked away from the table.

   Philip's face beamed with a big smile, and Susan's seethed with unconcealed hate towards Tom.  Margret, being a most adept French woman, smiled at her new prey. Tom laughed at it all, and headed for the narrow, steep stone steps that led down to the Ganges.  He needed to get away from everyone, to regain his sense of calmness.  The whole silly episode wore on his psyche.  He loved the positive, ‘the world is my oyster,' nature of 20 somethings, yet he was tired of their general  unwillingness to just be themselves.  They were always thrashing about in their struggle for self awareness, and striving for something more than they had.  Instead of seeing and enjoying the wonderful freedoms that they did have, and really living life.  It grew increasingly hard for Tom to see them throw away, or seriously postpone, life - in favor of a fruitless and painful  road.  It was troubling to watch their awareness being blunted, rather than honed, by turning down the wrong crossroads of their  20's and early 30's - choosing societal games, rather than trusting their innate instinct for life.  He tried his best to show them that it wasn't a necessary or desirable thing to do.  Because he saw their misdirection as the beginning of a disassociative process  from nature, and their true natures.  Now however, he was having to learn to let go - even though he saw the struggle in their eyes.  It wasn't easy to accept,  and it troubled his spirit.

  "They have to live their own life.  I can try to help, by showing them a fulfilling way; but some can't hear, and have to go a longer and harder way first," he lamented.

  "There's always hope," he reassured himself.

   Yet the tragedy of their loss still stung him.  Somehow, it was easier to accept in older people who were already years deep into denial and a destructive attachment to banal things.  In them, Tom saw the dawning hope of redemption from their self-inflicted distress.  But in the young and innocent ones, it seemed like such an easily avoidable loss.  A painfully long, and unnecessary, trip.  He'd come to realize however, that his was but a lonely voice in the wilderness, and therefore hard to trust.

    He spent the day wandering the many markets of Varanasi alone. That evening, he said his goodbyes to Philip.  He had a strange look on his face as he considered Tom when they parted.  It was partly relief at being ‘let go,' and appreciation for Margret and his resulting deliverance from Susan's mechanizations.  He was thankful for Tom's ongoing assistance, regretted  having to leave him; but voiced none of this.

   "You're such a mess, Philip!" Tom said in response to Philip's internal struggles.  "Don't worry, I still love you anyway!" he chided.  "By the way, being considered ‘a mess' is term of endearment in the South. Well, sort of..." Tom joked.

   "I'll be staying at the Tibetan guesthouse in Kathmandu, Thomas.  Come see me there, ok?"

   "Sure, I'll stop in and see if you're still there," he replied. 

   But they both knew that the premature break off was a real goodbye to their fledgling friendship.

   "He just can't cope with it, yet. He's got a long way to go," Tom said to himself sadly, as he rationalized Philip's inability to be honest with himself, and comfortable with his feelings.

   Tom had been through the scenario too many times in his life, and was actually very thankful for his new ability to severe ties first - before Philip had a chance to really hurt him. 

   "Guess I'm learning!" He congratulated himself at finally listening to, and constructively responding to,  the warning signs that usually appeared; but, he had always wanted to ignore.....'just in case.' 

   "He's just ‘at' where he's ‘at,' its no reflection on me,"  considered Tom sadly.

   "Its better I realize it, and deal with it responsibly from my end; because they never seem to do so on their own," he reasoned.

    Tom waved his goodbyes, as Philip walked away towards the two waiting women. 

   "Always leave them in a better place, and let them think that they did the leaving," Tom reminded himself of his golden rule. 

  "That way it keeps them on track with what they've learned; and in the long run, it helps them out." 

   It was, however, never easy for Tom.  But somehow, it was easier knowing that he'd done some good.  He walked back down to the river, and sat upon the steps to watch the rippling waters in the moonlight.  A little, thinly clad wisp of a girl walked up to him from the shadows. She smiled a beaming smile, as she held out a couple of floating butter candles to him in anticipation.  He looked deeply into her dark eyes, and saw the incredible strength within her.  The little girl eked her way through life by selling  tiny memorial candles.  Tom smiled, despite his feelings, and gave her a wad of money.  She gave him a spontaneous hug, pulled a match from seemingly nowhere, and ran to the waters edge.  She lit all of her candles, and swiftly set them adrift on the pitch-black river, whose waters lapped quietly yet incessantly against the myriad of stone steps. 

   "Its all good," Tom concluded.

                                                               **********

                The days passed, and Tom found himself once again perched upon his favorite location at the Vishnu guesthouse.  It was the sole table on the rickety third story riverfront balcony.  The sun had risen an hour before, and the activity on the Ghats was building. He silently watched morning on the mighty Ganges unfold below him. He felt  removed from the life on the river, spending yet another morning just watching the activity. Suddenly, the thought came to him that he had to stop being an observer, and that he needed to participate in their life, rather than merely sitting above it all. 

   Tom sighted a group of young men, all soaped up and goofing about, as they took their morning bath together. He descended down the many steps to the water's edge,  and sat down on the lower steps so that he could enjoy their infectious silliness.   Within minutes  people began to congregate all along the steps, and they smiled serenely as they sat down around him.  Soon he was surrounded, but he felt comfortable because the spontaneous group of people openly accepted his presence.  Thus silently ‘invited' into their world, he smiled  as a warm feeling swept through him.

  "This is life," he reflected calmly upon his inclusion.

   A wooden fishing boat was tethered to the shore, and it contained ten brightly dressed beautiful women in silken saris.  Alongside, the water was full of young strong men, doing their daily ablutions and getting clean before heading off to fish. One fellow didn't think he needed a bath, but his friends were sure that he did.  Covered in soap suds, five of them picked him up and carried him into the water.  They were  alive with good natured laughter.  Once in the water, he enjoyed the fun of the moment and the kind amusement of his friends.  Lacking any inhibitions, they cavorted in the water to the enjoyment of all watchers........especially the women in the boat.

   As Tom watched the interaction  the clothes washers started beating their wet bundles on the rocks, and he began to feel that he was ready to join in and swim himself.   As he set aside his journal, a small child suddenly appeared  in front of him - blocking his view. Then another child appeared to his right side, a larger child to his left, and a crowd of adults and children assembled behind him.  Fighting back an urge to bolt, Tom looked into the eyes of those around him with an uncompromising, yet compassionate, countenance.  The eldest man, about 70 years old, addressed Tom quite abruptly.

   "They all have asked me what you are writing in your book,"  he said it with genuine interest.  His voice also carried the unmistakable statement of:   ‘we are not here for anthropological studies.' 

   Tom smiled, and responded in a very relaxed and natural tone of voice.

   "I feel the Buddha's words, and his fathomless compassion inside me; yet I can't quite integrate it into my life - so powerful is his message.  So I try to write, in order to understand more fully."

   The old man smiled and responded.

   "Patience and meditation will help." 

   Then, without a word, the whole group dissolved into the surrounding scene.  They appeared, and disappeared, like apparitions - drifting off into the light morning fog.  Tom wondered if he'd imagined them, such was their ethereal nature. All thoughts of a swim were now overridden by a strong desire to share his experience with Luke and Colin.  Running up the many stairs, then up through the cave-like stair tunnel into the Vishnu guesthouse, Tom went directly to the guys' room and knocked loudly.  The door opened by the force of his knocking, and he walked in.  He found his young friends lying in bed, barely awake, and the room in total disarray.  With a jovial smile, Tom gave them a little 'of the piss.'

   "Hey get off your lazy arses, and come down and swim in the Ganges with me!  There's a great crowd of people out there today, and its very moving." 

   Greeted with vacant stares, and minimal comprehension, Tom knew  that while he wanted to share his important insight into life with them,  it was meant for him alone. Hopefully, in time, they would have a similar revelation - but it wasn't going to be today.  They were two blokes on a extended holiday, and were oblivious to everything but getting more sleep.

   "Why can we be within two feet of something inspirational and invaluable, yet our awareness is blunted to the point that our banal concerns are focused on the inane?" he asked himself sadly. 

   As Tom realized the impact of his experiences, he also felt the shocking blow of how few people actually looked for  increased awareness or enlightenment. Additionally,  the small minority that were lucky enough to be exposed to the circumstances which could help bring it, often walked past it with blind eyes and closed hearts.

   "We've insulated ourselves from seeing what's right in front of our eyes, and have thereby blinded ourselves to life - in favor of  the enticing distractions of a material centered existence.  We have T.V. feeding us our perspectives, instead of gaining them through experiences and reflective thought. We have huge houses, multiple cars, and emotionally cold and detached concrete cities - instead of a connection with each other and nature." 

   The revelations ran through his consciousness in rapid succession. At that moment, he experienced an epiphany; and finally understood the true riches and mystery of India.  Thus,  he felt no more despair for her people. 

   He knew that his time in Varanasi  was over.  He'd been  taught what he needed to learn.  He'd been open, sought  teachers, listened, and learned.

   He was beginning to learn another way to live life.  India had thankfully, if brutally, opened that door forever. 
                                                                               

                                                                        Chapter 6 

                                                                The shadow men.....1980

       "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The shadow knows."

                                      -Walter B Gibson, "The Shadow" comics, Street &Smith. 1930

                "Is everyone in attendance, Mr. Brown?"  Blue asked quietly to his protégé.

   "Yes. Well, all except for  Vulcan."

   "Vulcan?" he asked incredulously.  "Who the hell.....?"

   "Opps, sorry.  I meant to say Mr. Gray. I've..."

   "Obviously have your own set of names for our dear friends, eh?" he laughed.

   "Yes,"  Brown said with a visible blush. "I'll explain lat..."

   "Later? Yes, we can talk later.  Now to this circus we have today.  Lets focus on that, eh?"

   "Uggmm, yes sir."

   "Don't apologize to me.  I'm sure your monikers are far more amusing than ours. We've just got to get through this meeting, o.k.?"

   "Sure."

   Raising his voice above his prior whispers to his right hand man, Blue's voice boomed with subtle strength and authority: "I now call this meeting to order."

   At that, the wall of TV monitors blinked to life; and displayed the disparate visages of  the participants in the virtual meeting.  He had everyone's undivided attention, such as it was.

   Speaking first, as to usurp Blue's authority, Black began.

  "How  can we be assured that this meeting isn't being monitored, Blue?" he asked in a sardonic voice.

   Without  hesitation, Blue responded.  He had expected the typical outburst from Black, and natural skepticism from all the other attendees.

   "My hold on technology and information systems is complete, my friend.  There isn't anyone on the planet even thinking of this technology yet, much less using it.  I instituted this new method of meeting to assure safety and anonymity for us all.  Our meetings now can be held more frequently than annually, if we so decide.  We now can address urgent issues without too much distress. I so loathe making decisions without everyone's blessing, and this system helps me avoid that thorny problem.  So, once again, I prove my objectivity by reducing only my influence."

   "Sure. We'll see....." grumbled Black.

   "Well, with that business out of the way, we can begin!  First of all I would like to welcome, and introduce everyone to, our newest member.....Red.

   Welcome,  Red we look forward to your contributions and participation in this most august group."

   Nodding like a Hawaiian doll on a dashboard of an old  ‘67 Chevy, the elderly Chinese man smiled and tried to understand what his interpreter was telling him.  Culturally, he was oblivious to the self depreciating jibe Blue inferred through his choice of words, so he responded most seriously .....thought with little sincerity.

   "It is with honor that we participate.  With much gratitude!"

   Blue continued on with his introduction.

  "For the edification of our members, Red fills the vacancy of White.....at the advisement of Black.  Since White's death in 1978, his seat....that of member at large....has been vacant. Black, would you share your logic with us as to the shift in your perspective, since this position was yours in a manner of speaking?"

   A look of pure hatred flashed over Black's countenance as he considered Blue's request.  Thousands of miles away, through the nearly instantaneous, digitally transmitted, satellite network.  The only one in existence.

    "I'd much rather know about this new toy you are showing us today with this meeting.  When can we have it to utilize?"

   "First things first...." said Blue patiently. "Answer mine, and I'll answer yours."

   Obviously angry at being outmaneuvered once again by the coordinator, Black snapped back.

   "As you wish!  I felt it no longer necessary to replace White with the successor in his office. His first successor died within 33 days from taking office, and his  replacement desires to return to the dark ages.  My constituents, and partners, no longer feel its necessary to have the unnecessary presence of a religious ‘conscience.'  We feel these are new times, and we don't need to hold back global commerce through unnecessary and frankly superfluous twattle.  What will be will be, and the age-old hold of religions on our lives is forever gone."

   "Well, that certainly was edifying, Black.  Although, personally,  I felt that Whites' moderating balance on your mafia activities was very productive."

   "Don't needle me!  You're  playing with fire, and my patience for  this charade is failing!"

   As the caustic comments were flying,  Red's face registered glee at finally getting Black's statements about religion translated.  Even as Black was registering his disgust for Blue, and the meeting,  Red spoke joyfully.

   "Black is most correct in his view. Religions are not good for business.  Very intrusive...unnecessary."

   "Here, here," Blue called for order. 

   "We have a full agenda for today, lets not get stuck in a fruitless discussion on ideologies......a discussion we will surely disagree upon - regardless of its length, or voracity of arguments."

   "I agree," interjected Green. 

   "Always the conciliator, and nurturer you are," Blue observed silently.

   "Thank you, Green..." he said aloud. 

   "And as for your questions about my new toys, Black......" Blue offered, to further quell the disruption, and to avoid a stalemate.

    "I will turn over the technology when the populace can deal with it responsibly.  Also, it serves all our purposes to have channels of communications that are both secure and invisible to everyone else.  Keeping the commercial technology well behind us, will insure that is always the case.  Anyway, there is enough to exploit without throwing these things out prematurely.  Agreed, council?"

   Blue received unanimous nods in confirmation of his remarks. Outnumbered, and always outmaneuvered by Blue,  Black accepted defeat while fuming  with hate.

   Sensing his mentor's volatility, and the negative repercussions that could result if he exploded in anger, Tan spoke up.

    "Yes, I think we all agree with you Blue.  All of our futures look quite bright.  I want to proceed onto our next strategic issue, managed global commercial expansion.  Black and I, and many of you daresay, believe that we need lieutenants and captains to execute a thorough and reliable expansion."

   "Are you speaking of a new political tack, and the revised agenda that implies?" asked Yellow inquisitively.

   "Well yes, in a way.  But only as a support mechanism.  In order to transfer technology, engineering, and predictable business practices, we need to build a professional army of leaders."

   "Well, aren't corporate executives what we decided work best?" responded Yellow. 

"They've provided predictable and reliable results for my financial markets.  We're more solid now than ever, and I think any chance of stock market instability has been effectively eliminated," she continued.

    "Yes, and no," commented Orange. "I'm still plagued by limited thinking in my areas of Finance and Banking."

   "Isn't that good?  How creative do you want the banking systems to be?  For stability, and reliability....."

   "Yellow," Black interrupted, "listen to Tan, he and Orange have worked this out."

   "Ok," she replied quietly, but kept a worried look on her face. 

   "We have tremendous growth opportunities ahead of us, the sky truly is the limit. But, we need people to carry it out. We need to grow ambitious and hungry leaders to inspire the working populations to develop new territories, leverage old assets, and provide for a stable expansion of economic activity. We want them to be bright, ambitious, and to lack experience so that they won't be encumbered by conscience.  Our present corps of corporate executives are too few, too old, too stuck in the past, and too conservative.... unwilling to change. We believe that we all need to provide funding for graduate business schools, and law schools, as factories for ruthless and aggressive M.B.A.s and attorneys.  We need to encourage them with power, position,  and money.  Let them share a bit of the pie......under the direction of our corporate boards, of course....so that they'll feel empowered to rise above present corporate administrative functions and become growth leaders.  This will provide the necessary incentive for the thousands of  people below them, to fuel global expansion."

   "Isn't that a bit risky?  Giving them a little too much insight as to the bigger picture?" asked Yellow.

   "No," responded Orange, "they won't care about the same things as past corporate leaders.  They'll be focused upon personal material, and financial, success - regardless of the effects on anyone else."

   Jumping in, Tan said joyfully: "They won't see anything but profit sharing and unbridled growth!"

   "Won't the politicians have to change as well; and see this as a threat to their power?" asked Blue.

   "Not until its too late," relied Black with a sinister laugh. "By then the power will be shifted fully into our corporations, and we'll let them manage the politicians.  That should free up a lot of our time and aggravation!"

   "You said it," chimed in Green.

   "Thank God Carter and his yokels are finally gone!" added Orange for emphasis.

   "He only got there because of that bumbling fool Nixon got caught.  How could he be so dumb?  Well, at least he opened up China for us.  Welcome to our group, Red, we have a lot to discuss, you and I," commented Orange.

   "Your banking practices and finance policies are very different from mine, we can be good partners, eh?  I'd like to see your currency traded on the open market."

   "Yes, we see," was Red's guarded response.  He was having trouble with the whole concept of this group of people.  "They seem to control everything not Asian," he worried.  "Yet, I see no specific country.  This is most troublesome.  I miss something. I must  be quiet and observe.  Patience. I must retain patience. They cannot do so much, they are silly people.  We see.  We will see," he said to himself.

The conversation continued to  swirl around him, as he tried to retain his sense of balance.....

  "Glad to get Carter out!  Human rights?  Ha!  What a fool!"

  "He hamstrung things a little, but we can recoup. We've discredited him enough that no one will take him seriously."

   "Are you serious?  He wouldn't sign anything that he didn't read first, and agree with.  Imagine the impudence!"

   "Yes, he provided a bottle neck that gummed up the works a little.  Damn moralists!  When will they ever understand the way the world Really works?"

   "Never! That's why you have to make sure that they never get too much power.  Let them keep the image of the meek and disenfranchised.  As long as they and their adherents are seen as weaklings, business failures, and romantic idealists, people will never take them seriously.  They will listen better to more money, more things, and more power.  Use that as your bait," instructed Black.

   Blue was at his limit, the meeting was degenerating into a sick display of greed and inbred bragging. "It's time to end the meeting,"  he decided, silently.

   "Well, I think that we all agree with your proposal, Tan.  Don't we, people?  I think I speak for everyone here in our support for your initiative of  leadership training.  We will all do what we can to support and encourage a significant shift in educational resources from the humanities to business and law.  We'll continue our shift from traditional academic pursuits to pragmatic professional trades with significant monetary incentives.  Additionally, we'll endeavor to bring status and reward systems to our corporations that will facilitate and financially support these changes. This will provide the expanded leadership necessary to implement our global expansion, and to achieve the integration of disparate elements.  Can I have a vote?"

   With a resounding "yes," the group unanimously voted for the strategic shift from politicians to corporations as the leadership for their diverse, yet interrelated enterprises.

   "Well, thank you for your attendance and participation today.  I will notify you of our next meeting in the future.  Goodbye all, " Blue said, as he wrapped up the meeting, and cut off the outgoing video feeds.

                                                               *******

                "That certainly was an interesting meeting," commented Brown to Blue.

   "Yes, as always.  It disgusts me to see most of them, as I am sure it does for them to see and hear me....but, we have no choice now, do we?  This is the lesser of the evils, to run it once a year like this.

Thank God for this virtual meeting format.  The one-on-one meetings were excruciating, and lasted days, no matter what I did.  I needed a month to  recover from them. This, well......  Its not so bad."

   "Yes, having the 'off' switch is kind of handy isn't it?"

   "Whatever do you mean?" Blue said coyly, as he flicked on his bank of monitors on the opposite wall.  They all came alive with animated faces and voices  talking simultaneously. Brown laughed.

   "I knew that you took it a little further than it was when I gave it to you!  You left theirs on, while making it look like they were all shut down.  Clever, very clever!"

   "Well, I am the information broker am I not?  And to do that adequately, I need constant inflows of information, eh?  They won't say much, and probably nothing I don't already know, but it doesn't hurt....."

   "I suppose that you tapped their calls to each other as well?"

   "But, of course!  Again, it won't be much of a surprise to them. But still, over time, people tend to forget or stop caring, if I observe things.

   So, on a different subject  Mr. Brown?  What is this name ‘Vulcan,' for our dear friend who controls industry, Mr. Gray?" Blue said with a humorous grin.

   "I get bored at times, and I thought the names were silly; so I decided to give them some of my own."

   "You are a wonder to me, my dear and loyal friend."

   "Friend? I owe everything to you."

   "Please, you flatter me unduly.  On your own, you are formidable.......I simply assist.  If it weren‘t for you, how would we implement  anything?  Your communications networks  are simply brilliant.  Newspapers, magazines, movies, TV, radio?  What don't you control?"

   "My heart."

   "Please......you are too much. Tell me of your new humorous names?"

   "Well, I think the colors are cheesy.  Don't they sound like they're from a cheap international spy movie?  They're barely a step above letters.....'Q,' ‘X,' etc.." Brown said with an elfish grin.

    "You are so much like your dear father, my boy," complimented Blue.

   "Anyway,  lets stay focused here, ok?" he said with a wide open smile.

   "I think its better to give them names appropriate with their character.

Black, obviously, is closer to Hades than anyone of us would want to be, eh?

Yellow is Hera.  She was a wife of Zeus.  That's you, of course!"

   "But, Of course!" Blue said laughing.

   "Red is Hypnos, because of the patience of time and the hypnotic nature of propaganda.

Orange is as old as Cronus, and White could have been Demeter.  It all depends if you're into Greek or Roman mythology.

Apollo, is of course my darker half brother. That name fits Tan, who is under the tutelage of Black.

Hephaistos was the Greek precedent of the Roman God Vulcan, and was the God of fire.  That suits  Turquoise  fairly well since he controls most oil and energy concerns.

And, since Ms. Green controls most agriculture, I thought IO was appropriate."

   "That's all well and good, but what about you?  I haven't heard your mythological equivalent?"

   "Well, I'm kind of shy about that. Its all an inside joke to myself, to give their huge egos a name."

   "I think I know the right name for you.  It's certainly better than Mr. Brown," said Blue.  "I think you would be Eros!"

   Blushing visibly, the younger man stammered: "Why would you say that?  I'd much more prefer to call myself Hermes."

   "Lets just say that I know more about your proclivities than you might imagine."

   "Does that bother you?"

   "No. Why should it?  Love is love, people are people.  What matters about genders?  Their attributes change  so much over time,  anyway.  All I know is that some people are forced into a quiet and sometimes lonely place, due to the fact that society forces them to live outside of it. In order to be truthful to themselves, and who they really are, they are forced to make a choice no one should have to make.  It puts one in an observer's role, no?"

   After gauging Brown's response to his words, he added:  "Quite!"  for emphasis. 

   "Yes, maybe Hermes is more appropriate for you.  Better yet, the Roman equivalent is Mercury!  He was the one that was so very clever,  possessed a wonderful wit, and was the messenger for the Gods.  But I don't understand all that stuff with cows?  Can you help me out there?"  Blue said laughing.

   "You're too much," countered Mercury.

   "Yeah, I know.  After all, I am Zeus, aren't I?  I've got to keep up the image, n'est-ce pas?"

   "Oui, mon Maître."

   "Oui, mon Dieu!" 

*******END OF EXCERPT********* 

Author's note:  This excerpt from the "Book Tibet: Lamplight Unto a Darkened World" is provided here for general reading.  Profits from this book, however derived, will be given to The Great Compassion Boarding School in the hidden kingdom of Mustang (located between Nepal and China)  Please feel free to follow this link, and make a much needed contribution to these children's education/lives, and help preserve the Tibetan Buddhist culture.  Here are relevant links:

http://www.mustang-children.com/

http://freetibet.gather.com/


http://patrickm.gather.com/