On my first trip to India I had a dream of my Guru. I snuck into his chambers and hid behind the curtain. He was busy seeing to things, meeting important people and making important decisions.
"Who are you." he asked. "Daryl." I answered shyly.
He had such a sweet smile, I was transfixed by his loving gaze.
" What do you want?" he asked.
"I want your help Swami" I blurted out.
"Ahh help" he said "But I'm too busy, Littleheart will help you, she lives nearby, on her own. She will guide you, to what you need."
I had a vision of an archway and an apartment block and then I woke up.
I asked the people around the village, if they'd heard of Little Heart and where she might live but no one knew much at all. I asked the rickshaw drivers outside the ashram, two said they knew where she lived. Both led me on a wild goose chase, the second driver took me to Kadugodi, a small village nearby but then lost his way.
I got out and started to walk the streets of the small village. An archway on the footpath looked familiar. An old lady dressed in white was sweeping her verandah. I smiled and asked her if she had heard of a lady called Little Heart. She smiled back and pointed up with her broom.
The déjà vu was strong. At the top of the stairs was a rooftop terrace and off to the side was a bungalow. I could hear people talking, I knocked on the fly screen door. After a while a sprightly older lady, with bird-like features answered the door.
Through the screen she asked,
"How can I help you Sir."
She was very direct, I could tell she didn't suffer fools gladly.
"I'm looking for someone called Little Heart." I answered quickly.
" That would be I, what is it you need boy? she said very briskly.
"I wanted to talk with you." I answered meekly, having lost all my confidence in front of this intimidating woman.
"Well I'm busy right now, can you come back, when are you here till?"
"The end of the week." I answered stiltedly.
"Wait there, I'll get my diary."
She returned and we worked out a time for me to come back and without a goodbye, she returned to her guest.
Two days later I came back and was early, she showed me in. This time she was the sweetest mother and I had her undivided attention. I can't remember much of what we spoke. But I remember that her kindness and her faith in me, far outweighed my own.
As my time with her drew to a close and I was saying goodbye, she asked again when I was leaving and where I was returning to. I told her I was living in Perth, Australia but was moving to Brisbane. "Ooh." she said "I just met a beautiful young man last week from Brisbane, you must meet up with him."
She looked to her diary again, she tore out of scrap of paper from her notebook and wrote down his name, address and phone number. She handed it to me. She smiled, placed her frail hand on my shoulder and bade me farewell.
I think of that chance meeting often and the unlikeliness of it, having ever happened. I recall the dream, the scrap of paper and her kindness.
Now, all these years later, it just so happens, that the man, whose name was written on that scrap of paper, has influenced my life beyond measure.
Nothing's the same. Everything's changed, nothing remains...
