Agni Chakra

(Circles of Fire)

(Chapter 23)

By Kathleen JAYAWARDENE

Translated by Ranga Chandrarathne and Edited

by Indeewara Thilakarathne

I drive the vehicle towards Wallawatte beach with a mixture of contradictory feelings such as doubt, mistrust, trust and hope. I was relieved at the sight of the Rama Krishna mission near the beach. I drive the vehicle into the mission through a gate and look around pushing down on the braks. I felt that I came to the right place only when I saw the people in the upstairs.

They obtained a paper containing my finger print together with my identity card. I saw the unruly waves breaking as I looked down from the balcony while waiting for my turn. Does the noise of the sea intensify the incessant fearful nature of life? Do it like the lamentation of death? What is the exact boundary of life? Does such a boundary and confine exist? Does the noise of the sea echo such a questionnaire?

The sea has shaped out the process of death which puzzled to me. It was the fearful noise of the sea that further intensified my fatigue.

I thought at what moment that man could feel that he had spent the life to the full. It is obvious that 'death' would come to everyone at all ages. How fast have we aged? Without knowing, hours-days-weeks-months-years have passed by? I know that what had passed would not come again. What am I familiar with in life? Was I used to suspect exact things? Have I taken uncertain things as certainty?

The question what would happen to a person's soul after death if the death is the end of the body had never occurred to me. Once Ratnaweera said a considerable percentage of man's wisdom, body of knowledge and all the aptitudes belonged to the previous existence.

The question 'From where we have come to creep into this mortal coil' arises in me from time to time. From where have we got this mask? I read the chapter 'why are we afraid of death?' in the Cicero's book 'The Old Age' several times. It has been committed to memory so that I could recall some of the passages by heart.

Someone called me into the room. I was before the Nadivakyam reader. His long harangue in Tamil was translated into Sinhala by a Tamil man.

My medical condition was described confusingly. From time to time, he fluently described some symptoms which I do not have and some of which I have. He was particular about my lifespan. When he told that it was a long period as long as ninety years, happiness splashed in me. When he told that my life would end in an accident, I became hopeful. If it is so I would not die due to cancer. I was greatly relieved. Now, at that moment, I clung on the straw that 'my lifespan is 90 years'.

I told that to my subconscious mind. I have heard that once registered in the subconscious mind, it would create the conditions so as to make the wish a reality. I reminded myself that all my feelings were manifestations of the subconscious mind. I have read in a book that 'the subconscious mind is the engineer who makes the body'. If it is so why can't I be the mediator of the healing power of the subconscious mind?

I was reminded of the saying in the Bible "You will get whatever you prayed while believing in you" as the gospel truth. The translator said that if I wanted to know more I will have to pay separately for each area of inquiry.

Wife..? Children...? Previous life...? Next life ...?

I requested him to describe my previous existence. He said that I had been born in Andalucía in Spain years ago and my house was by the river Duero in the town Scoria and as he said that the river claimed my life, I gazed at him with open mouth. Within a second I felt I was becoming smaller and smaller.

I drive along Galle road after carefully putting the audio-cassette containing the predictions into the pocket. I was overwhelmed with happiness which I had not experienced for the last couple of days.

I hold the steering wheel exploring space to think and prove that Nadivakyam is true. Suddenly I thought of Shantha. I could see my dilapidated heart miraculously transformed into a temple with Shantha on the altar as a goddess. My heart was melting and becoming tender enough to recall how Shantha kept on looking at my activities with indifference and equanimity.

Though she had hinted out her opposition on some matter, she did not stand against my way. Her disposition was so calm that I doubted whether she was practising Shanti Paramita. Suddenly I was reminded that the rays of this kind were not directed at me alone. I had seen Shantha was kind even to ants.

This non-violent woman would look for ants even in the bottom of a cup before it is washed off of left-over tea leaves. For a long period of time, I have seen her tender disposition. But I have never had an inclination to think about it.

I turned the vehicle at the Majestic City with a tender heart thinking of apologising to Shantha and to making a confession to her. I was amazed. What was the kind of transformation happening in me? Suddenly I was anxious whether I was going off my mind. Phobia...? schizophrenia ...? Now I was trying to recall the symptoms of these conditions. What am I up to? What am I going to confess to Shantha? From where should it commence and end? Is there really such a beginning or an end?

I parked the vehicle in the car park and climbed the running staircase in the Majestic City looking around the decorations in the shops with the intention of buying some dress for Shantha. A dummy with a slim hip in a glass cage was dressed in a white Sari with yellow roses embossed on it.

I rushed into the shop and asked the sales girl for the Sari. I made the order without inquiring about the price. How beautiful would be Shantha's still youthful figure with this dress?

I stepped down to the car park thinking of what I could still do for Shantha. Though I was tempted by the aroma of mouth watering fried chicken from the nearby KFC, I started the engine suppressing the urge.

The road was blocked by the dispersing people who had just watched the movie "Alexander", a film based on the life and times of Alexander the Great. I thought that I should watch it again with Shantha. On the spur of the moment, what reminded me was the saying that was said to be inscribed on the tombstone of Alexander the Great.

"A person who could not be satisfied with the whole world when he was alive, is now satisfied with a tiny plot of land".

Am I polishing up life? It could not be retrospective of life. Appropriately it could be digging up the life. I am relieving myself from something which is disgusting and unpleasant like a snake peeling off its hide. Like an intermediary looking at a lifeless body, I am looking at a mortal coil which is neither mine nor anyone else's. I was reminded of the still unread 'Tibetan Book of the Dead' which Ratnaweera had given me. He said that it marvellously describes the stages of soul going through.

Yellow and green lights on the colour light panel were splashing on with red light being switched off. I carefully took the turn. Once again, red light splashed at the Duplication Road's junction. I applied the braks. A young woman with a child was tapping on the glass begging for money. Searching the pocket in a hurry, my hand stumbled on a hundred rupee note.

I lowered the glass and put it on the girl's hand without reluctance. A fearful face of the begging woman splashed a smile. The face of the child in her hand had no feelings.

Who had gifted the child with a shrewd and weird face? At once, I was reminded of Prabhuddha. I could recall he was in Shantha's hand dressed up elegantly.

His rounded face was more like that of a girl than that of a boy. Shantha, who expected a girl, had made a girl's dress for Prabuddha. Prabuddha was born with well grown up hair and sharp nails.

Shantha still has the lock of Prabuddha's hair cut off when he was a three month's old baby. She preserved Prabuddha's feeding cup and other baby care items as if they had archaeological value.

I also loved Prabuddha very much as much as Shantha loved him. We were ready to provide him with whatever he asked for. Did he become stubborn because of this? But I have seen children who enjoyed all the luxuries and still being obedient.

My heart was filled up with melancholy thoughts. How Prabudha's child by the Brazilian woman would look like? Will the child inherit my or Shantha's genetic traits? Or else would he be a chip of a foreigner with copper-coloured hair?

What was my real attitude? I reiterated that country, religion, nationality are nonsense and that all men and women in the world are the same. What has become of my 'internationalism'?

I wiped the nose with the handkerchief. Suddenly I could see through me. Pancreas ....stomach....intestine... small intestine...cancer ...?

Doctor told me that the cancer might be in the early stage. Nadivakyam prompted me to think so. I turned on the radio...

Why or for what reason did I want to turn the vehicle to Kumaratunga Munidasa Mawatha instead of Bauddhaloka Mawatha at Thunmulla junction?

Footnote

Nadivakyam- Documents which are supposed to contain the whole life events of a person.

Shanti Paramita- Patience practised as an ideal