Lead thou me on

Last Sunday, my friend Mark took Kamala to the park. I had to run some errands, so they went by themselves. When they returned, Kamala took Mark aside to a different room, and played cards with him. We had dinner, and then Kamala decided to play with her toys, and set up a "toy show" for Mark. She snapped when I said something to her, saying she was busy right now. Wouldn't let me say anything to Mark either.

It was clear that for that evening, Mark was Kamala's "property", and she wasn't willing to share. I let them be.

Later that night, when Kamala fell asleep, Mark told me of their afternoon at the park. Kamala had tired herself out playing, and Mark had decided to give her a piggyback ride to his car. She had willingly put her arms around his neck, and as they walked, had reached up to touch Mark's face. Felt his stubble, and said

"You know...my dad's face feels like this".
"Really?"
"Yeah....But he doesn't have spiky hair. He has dark, curly hair"
"Hmmm"
"And dark skin too...."
"Hmmm"
"You know, if your hair was curly and your skin was darker, you could be my dad!"

So that's why Kamala had been so possessive of Mark all evening.... She was missing her dad, and had found comfort in Mark's company.

*-*-*-*
On days like this I wish I could do something to ease Kamala's sadness. For the most part, she holds it in and doesn't tell me - but some days I get a sixth sense that the child is having a hard time dealing with the loss of her father's company. And I try to be extra gentle with her on those days.

A few weeks ago, Kamala and I read a story from a collection of Sri Ramakrishna's children's stories. It featured a poor widowed mother living on the edge of the woods, who starts sending her young son to school. The school is on the other side of the forest, and the son has to walk through the dense, dark woods to reach there. In the evenings when it becomes dark, the little boy is spooked by the sounds of the forest and reaches home shivering in fright. A few days later, he refuses to go to school, saying he cannot bear to walk through the dark woods one more time.

At this, his mother, an ardent devotee of Krishna, comes up with an idea. She tells the son that she has found someone to accompany the child home every evening - his brother Gopal*, who is a cowherd in the forest. She tells him that all he needed to do when he started from school was to call for Gopal, and he would come. He would accompany him all through, and see the child home.

Sure enough, the child's innocent faith earns him the company of Krishna himself, and the heavenly companion is with him day after day, helping him cross the dark forest, and seeing that he is home safely.

*-*-*-*
I wish I had that mother's simple faith, and her words to reassure my child. That I had some way to say with clarity and conviction, that Kamala has the divine spirit, the Heavenly Father to reach out to, who will protect and comfort her when her earthly father isn't around. And even when he is around.

So far I haven't found the right words, even though I have felt the power. In my darkest moments, when I shut off my chaotic thoughts and unattainable desires, I have found comfort and guidance from what I firmly believe is a higher power. I have felt my spirit heal, find new direction and purpose.

I think about the story of Gopal becoming the child's brother. How wonderful it would be if one has the faith to take God into one's life, and have Him or Her fill every void, heal every wound and make us whole!

I think of the Tamil poet Bharati who had seen in Krishna a brother, a friend, a female child, a feminine and graceful lover, and even a domestic helper - and had transformed his thoughts into poems. How lonely Bharati must have felt - and how friendless!

The poet in real life had been a maverick who was far ahead of his times in thought. He was shunned by his fellow caste-members, and his fellow villagers, who could not grasp his ideals. And in God he had sought and found solace - and who are we to reason with that? Maybe he had found a utopia which few of us can dream of.

I close my eyes and try to think of the divine spirit as my healer, and my comforter.... My mother, father, teacher, beloved friend, and lover who will listen to my concerns without judging and accept me, flaws and all. To whom I can open up my heart and mind without fear of being rejected. How wonderful it will be if one can attain a state like that - a state of true detachment and bliss....

Lead kindly light, amid the encircling gloom, lead thou me on!
The night is dark and I am far from home, lead thou me on!**

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* Another name for Krishna
** Extracted from a poem by John Henry Newman. For full text click here