Helen Connolly, Canada
Life is full of tests. In university tests are a gateway to a new level of performance, proof positive that information has been accumulated , stored, digested, regurgitated and perhaps added on to. Passing leads to an upgrade in status and possibly income level. We do better than we’ve done before.
In the University of Life tests are transformational gateways to new ways of being. We get to choose whether we pass or fail, based on our choice of response. Our response in all tests is colored by our habitual way of being prior to the test. If we don’t embody the material, the outcome will probably be dismal. If we are well grounded then we expand our awareness and grow from the experience and are more than we have ever been while simultaneously carrying less baggage with us through life….an enlightening process!. With gratitude for the Light of Truth that has been transmitted to me over many years, through enlightening teachers and role models of Self-Mastery, I share my experience with you.
On Wednesday, we visited Sw. Vishveshwarananda’s ashram during the day. It was a wonderful experience, a unique adventure in the play of consciousness, as was every exquisite day in India. Every day the extremes of polarities rubbed shoulders. Every day was a ‘hatha’ day, spent reveling in the midpoint between the ‘sun’ and the ‘moon’, witnessing from the still point of wholeness and bliss. Extreme poverty and wealth, chaos and calm, heat and coolness, grime and brilliant color, materialism and great devotion, dubious odors commingling with divine incense…..Divine Mother left nothing out of the buffet of life….nothing at all.
So on Wednesday I set off with bliss in my heart. Today I was going to see an authentic Indian ashram and tomorrow was going to be the highlight of the whole trip, the main reason I decided to come actually, to visit Bhagawan Nityananda’s mahasamadhi shrine in Ganeshpuri and feel the shakti there. Could life possibly get any better than this? My soul was continually dancing in ecstasy and gratitude for the great blessing of this trip with Master Charles. I had a great roommate in Naomi Scherr and her dad and my friend,,Alan, added color and vibrancy and positivity to everything.
We set off in our white whale of a bus, swimming against a tide of tuc tuc’s, cars and bikes, up narrow streets. The pilgrimage had begun. Eventually abandoning the bus to the driver to sort out, we walked the last few streets in the bright sunshine to the peace of the ashram. From crazy traffic to placid cows, from an ocean of black roofed tuc tucs to a sea of brilliantly garbed deities. Yep, we’re in India. Thus the day progressed, from blessing to blessing, MC leading the way with Alan photographing it all. It was wonderful, hot, intense and tiring. So much so, that I put off doing some shopping at the Oberoi mall afterwards as I had intended. “I’ll do it all on Friday instead after Naomi and I have our facials at the hotel spa.”
I lay down to meditate and went ‘out’ while Naomi showered and dressed. She woke me and after showering I inwardly asked my Beloved, as usual, “What would you like me to wear tonight?”
“The blue salwar kameez with your purple meditation shawl.”
“What, really? They don’t even look very nice together.”
“The blue salwar kameez with the purple shawl.”
“OK then.” I know when not to argue, even though I considered it to be rather plain and drab compared to some other outfits. At least I got to wear my favorite meditation shawl, which I not only meditate in, but spread on my bed at night while I sleep. It’s like my security blanket, purchased in Toronto a few years back when I visited Amma.
We had another wonderful evening with MC and Mataji at the YB Chivan Centre. I told MC that I had seen the Shri Yantra in meditation that morning, just briefly and in three dimensional form. He told me that was the crown opening. I had cycled into restlessness by the end of the meditation. I put it down to spending so much time sitting on the bus on our earlier outing. Alan also seemed restless and said he needed a walk. He was ticked off with the taxi drivers who over a 10 day period had upped our evening ride to the Centre from 50 to 100 rupees. He didn’t want to give them any more money on principle. He suggested the three of us walk back to the hotel. So off we set. It was hot and humid and the streets were crowded and lively.
We were talking about the next day’s trip to Ganeshpuri and the political dealings with Guru Mai and were so wrapped up in conversation that we got lost (which is actually very easy to do in Mumbai). We found ourselves on unfamiliar streets, where the energy didn’t feel so good. Whole communities seemed to be out on the street with fires going, roasting nuts and cooking and by the looks we were getting, I began to feel very white and Western, despite our Eastern garb. Alan asked for directions and we took off at a faster pace. Naomi’s new sandals were hurting. She took them off to try and fix the piece between the toe, and we had to scurry to keep up with Alan. I think she ended up walking barefoot. We passed people sleeping in the street, including a little ‘nest’ of children, all sound asleep on the concrete pavement, under one of those trees with the pretty white flowers and wide leaves that grew just a few blocks from our luxurious hotel. They didn’t even have a cloth or newspaper underneath them and they lay intertwined like newborn kittens, without a care in the world. Yes, this is India, the natural and unnatural cohabitating. Who really had it right? I gave up trying to figure that out when I first looked into the blissful, placid eyes of all the wild ’yogi’ dogs in Samadhi in the streets on my first days here. No place for the mind here. It just was what it was.
We got back eventually, hot, tired, hungry and thirsty. Normally, I went straight to my room, made a protein shake with water and went to bed. But we were so thirsty for a cool drink. Alan suggested going out to buy Naomi a sandwich but she didn’t want that. (I knew she wanted sushi. She LOVED the sushi in the restaurant, the vegetarian one with avocado and cream cheese and also the ginger lime drinks that Alan had introduced us to earlier in our trip.)
Alan had to go do some things for MC so we parted ways in the lobby and Naomi and I headed off to Tiffin, the beautiful restaurant in the beautiful lobby of our oh-so-beautiful hotel. It was so nice to be back in this oasis of blissful calm after the heat and intensity of the world outside. It always smelled so nice too, thanks to Sabina’s special aromatic oil that permeated the whole building. And the staff were delightful, gracious, helpful, elegant, friendly and open-hearted. I could spend the rest of my life here, I thought quite regularly.
At about 9pm we joined Michael, Rudrani, and Linda at their table in the middle of the restaurant. Naomi and I shared a booth . The others sat on chairs around a table for six. They were lively and chatty, I was tired and contemplative and not up for conversation. I just wanted to email my family and go to bed. We placed our order for ginger lime drinks, asparagus and cream cheese sushi for Naomi (for a change) and a bowl of celery soup for me and then tucked into the bread rolls because we were so hungry. Naomi popped out every so often to keep an eye for Alan to let him know where we were. Michael said Alan was in his room on the phone to Master Charles.
Quite some time later (about half an hour, I‘d say), Alan joined us and told Naomi he had been looking all over for her. He had a plastic bag full of stuff with him which I believe he said were gifts MC wanted him to bring on our trip to Ganeshpuri the next day. He sat at the head of the table to my right and ordered ice cream. Naomi was sitting to my left.
Service was slow, exceptionally slow. I’d never seen it like this, especially because the restaurant was only about a third full. I was so tired I was about ready to forego the soup and go straight to bed. We had already munched our way through all the rolls before Alan joined us and there was still no sign of food. Naomi reached across in front of me to hold Alan’s hand for a moment. It was such a loving act, such an intimate connection, that I jokingly said, “What, you want me to switch places with you now?” (It was a rhetorical question as we’d already been sitting and nibbling for so long.) A few minutes later, Rudrani who was to Alan’s right, was in the middle of saying something when Naomi said, “OK then.” to me. I said, “OK, what?” having completely forgotten my comment. “If you want to switch places.” she said. I looked at her place setting which was covered in bread crumbs and joked that I couldn’t possibly, now that her place was so crumby, because I was just too tired to move and Alan, probably noticing this said, “It’s OK Naomi. Stay put.”
Finally our orders arrived and we all talked about Naomi’s plans to go away to school. Alan said he didn’t know how he was going to handle being separated from her. He seemed genuinely concerned about it. He also seemed agitated about all the details to be worked out regarding the trip tomorrow and the need to keep our group silent about our connection to Synchronicity. He wasn’t relaxed. It felt clear to me that neither of us wanted to be at this table at this moment. It was now about 10pm. I asked for the bill to expedite our departure.
Then the firing started. Previously there had been a loud noise like someone dropping a tray of silver and crystal from a height onto the granite floor. At that time, Michael had gone to investigate and came back saying that someone said there were gangsters attacking each other on the street. I don’t know why we didn’t leave then. It just seemed so incongruous with the peace of the Oberoi as to be unbelievable. But now the noise came again, only closer, coming towards us from the direction of the Trident hotel, behind my back. I didn’t see anything. I just heard the shots as they sounded close to the lobby. I looked over my right shoulder to see what was going on, still incredulous. Alan was looking that way too and had a better view and shouted, “Get under the table.” Because I had my back to everything and was twisted around trying to see, I think I was the last one to dive for cover. I just couldn’t get my head around the possibility of what might be happening.
As I dived under the table I remembered Swami Karunananda’s story about ‘Om Shanthi’ creating a subtle shield of armor that nothing could penetrate. I turned to look at Alan and whispered loudly ‘Om Shanthi’ as I held the fingers of his left hand that he was extending to me. I remember noticing his rings. Because of the twisted position I was in when I dived I actually had my back to Naomi, and couldn’t exactly see where she was but Alan was stretched out lengthwise under the table reaching for her (I assumed) with his other arm. I can still see Alan’s face as I said ‘Om Shanthi’. His eyes were open but his face was completely devoid of expression or emotion. He didn’t say anything. Then I put my head on the floor in Balasana and kept repeating the mantra from a state of witnessing.
All this happened almost simultaneously but also timelessly.
The shooting got closer as the shooter swept through the restaurant. I wondered if the Duncan’s and Bonnie had been killed as the gunman was working his way through where they had been sitting the last time I saw them. He came to our table and started shooting through the top of it. Over and over and over. It felt to me like a young man playing a video game in search of a perfect score.
Michael cried out that he was shot. Then Linda I think. Then Rudrani. Linda called out that she was shot in the back. Rudrani said her thigh. An Indian couple who had been dining at a small table beside us had also dived under our table. They were shot. I heard the lady moaning. The man called out to her, “Oh Misree, I’m so afraid I’m going to die here.”
After a little while she stopped moaning and he stopped calling out to her. I thought, ‘They must be dead‘.
Naomi let out a scream, but no words. I was concerned that her screams would draw more bullets to her. But she became silent almost immediately. Alan never made a sound. I didn’t know if he had been hit. I felt a bullet sting my thigh, but knew it wasn’t serious. I noticed that I wasn’t holding Alan’s hand anymore. I don’t know when we let go.
I was witnessing everything with detachment both inwardly and outwardly. I felt very clear that I was not going to get shot to pieces. I noticed that I had a distinct preference that my body not be messed with after working it back to health following the pelvic fractures earlier in the year. I noticed that I wasn’t experiencing fear. I was a completely calm witness. My energy seemed to be all up in the crown of my head. I looked again for fear and panic and found none, no terror, no panic, no rage, no grief. Where were they?
I noticed I was perfectly OK with leaving the body but felt my family would not be. It occurred to me that it would sour them against India and yoga and meditation. I also noticed the thought that ‘where the sun is brightest the shade is darkest and both are Source.’ It seemed appropriate that such shade exist beside 10 days of the brightest bliss. The polarities are rubbing shoulders and I am watching from the mid-point. Therefore it never occurred to me to judge, hate or blame because it was all Source. (It was only afterwards when MC talked of the need for compassion and forgiveness that I realized this. My reaction to his comment was, ‘What’s he talking about? What’s to forgive and who do we forgive?’) ‘It’s just what’s happening now’, my awareness said.
Then silence. The shooting stopped. I dared not move in case they were waiting to see who was still alive. I stayed still feeling all the consciousness pulled to the top of my head and none in my body.
Then a voice called for all those mobile enough to follow this way. I lifted my head slightly and saw the pinstriped legs of the hotel butler from under the table. A member of housekeeping and a chef were with him. The floor in front of my head was littered with empty bullet casings. Alan wasn’t moving. He was stretched out in front of me. The Indian lady lying on my feet wasn’t moving. I pulled a leg out from under her. My sandal stayed behind underneath her. I left it. I lifted myself higher to climb over Alan’s legs. I noticed his cream leather chair was covered in chunks of his hair and pink matter. I turned to look at his head. There was a large deep hole in it - several inches deep, behind his left ear. My awareness calmly stated inwardly, “He’s gone.” I gently shook Naomi’s arm as I was pulling myself out from under the table. It flopped lifelessly. “She’s gone too,” commented my awareness, though I couldn’t see any mark of injury on her and she seemed to be protected by both Alan and the Indian couple.
I saw Michael Rudder lying on his arms and stomach. He didn’t move at all and was so covered in blood that I thought he must be dead too, but in hindsight his body was not as limp as the others. All these observations occurred in a matter of moments.
Rudrani and Linda got to the staff room as directed by the butler, before me. They were closer to that side of the room. I was the most mobile, but they were both strong, though obviously injured and blood soaked. They were lying on the floor of the staff room and in a lot of pain. I went to each and held their wrists and said “Om Shanthi. Keep repeating this and we’ll be fine.” They did.
We huddled without cover in this staff locker room. The staff had left us through another door. Then the shooting started again and came closer to where we were. I instinctively darted for a corner which provided no cover as the cupboards went all the way down to the floor and then realized we would all be killed there if they came in. I sat up straight so as not to huddle while dying. I wanted to see and look at whoever was going to kill me. But I kept chanting Om Shanthi.
Just then the staff came back and said, “This way.” I called to them to help Rudrani who was the least mobile and we all went out a fire door, setting off the alarm. It was agony for the girls to be moved about but with the help of staff they managed to be put into a taxi and sent to the hospital. I followed in another taxi with hotel staff who accompanied us. Someone along the way put a bottle of water in my hand so I started giving sips to the girls as we waited for treatment at the hospital. Linda had thrown up and was looking very weak and green of complexion.
The hospital staff separated us into treatment rooms. Parumel, one of the hotel housekeeping staff, and the chef, stayed with us all night, checking on us regularly. The hospital staff also checked regularly, placing monitors on me, which I noticed were old with exposed wires. I told them I was well enough to give the bed to someone else and to go back to the hotel. That’s when they told me how bad things were throughout Mumbai.
They moved me to a general ward from triage. While I waited in a wheelchair at the elevator with Parumel , a very big mouse, or a small rat, ran back and forth along an inside window sill. I pointed it out to Parumel who scared it away. I noticed a Ganesh statue by the elevator, so perhaps the rodent was his. I was settling into this ward when Bijesh and Dawson, two reception staff from the hotel, came in to see me. Bijesh was wonderful and held my hand and assured that God was with us. They said they would come back in the morning.
Then the hospital staff returned with Parumel and moved me to a private room on a different floor, complete with bathroom. Three men vacated this room with their mattresses to make room for me. I was very touched by their thoughtfulness considering all I had was a bruised and swollen thigh. I was also extremely grateful to have my purple prayer shawl to comfort me through the night, even though it was covered in blood and other matter most likely from Alan. (So this was why you wanted me to wear this, Beloved.) I also discovered my hair was encrusted with blood and hard as cardboard. It must have soaked it up while I had my head on the floor in the child’s pose. I used a jug and cold water to rinse it out in the hospital sink. It was surreal to watch the flood of red as I washed Alan’s blood out of my hair - at least I think it was Alan’s blood.
The next morning the Oberoi hotel manager and about 20 different staff members came into my room, followed shortly after by Gautam and Santosh Sachdeva. The hotel staff were trying to get through to Dan, my husband in Canada, on their cell phone when Gautam came in, so he took over and they left. They took me back with them to their home along with Shibani and their friend Xavier and his driver. They bought me sandals to replace my lost one and Shibani put my other one in her backpack.
It was a bright sunny morning, not too hot, and the birds came to the open window of their living room to perch on the exotic branches and have breakfast as usual at the bird feeder. They sang their joy to the world. It was an idyllic picture of beauty and nature and grace, while within a 5 minute walk from this spot, my guru and beacon of strength, Master Charles and the rest of the group were under siege at the Oberoi amidst fire , uncertainty and the endless sound of gunfire. This was also where my dear friends, Alan and Naomi had cast off their bodies and left them entwined in the broken zen of Tiffin Restaurant. I was standing in a spotless and elegant room with absolutely nothing but torn, blood stained clothes, dependant on the kindness of relative strangers to survive. The Sachdeva’s and the Canadian Consulate will be forever blessed for their loving kindness throughout those days.
Beloved, how you do love to play with our attachments in life to loosen our grip of the illusory and the material, so that we may more wholly embrace the Truth of You and what life is, and merge into Oneness.
Regarding PTSD:
I have noticed since the attack, when things happen behind my back or to the right of me it can be very traumatic. Over the holidays, my sister crushed an empty water bottle as she exited the dining room after pouring at the table. I almost dived for cover while no one else reacted at all.
While traveling in Ireland, my son who sat behind and to the right of me became incensed at a slow driver who was holding up the flow of traffic for over an hour. As his road rage increased he personified the terrorist to me and I couldn’t handle the violent words. What I didn’t realize until later was that he too is suffering from PTSD and this driver represented the terrorist to him, someone who had a negative influence in his life that he could not control. My husband is exhibiting many signs of trauma and feelings of anger and disconnectedness to life.
In the early hours of this morning, my husband turned over in bed and the noise that the crisp cotton sheets made, became gunfire in my half sleep state and shocked me into wakefulness. In that moment everything fell into place and I knew I had to write this down to share my experience with others.
Today is December 27th, 2008, one month and a day since the first gunfire.
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