Conch.
Consciousness.
Environment? Dark. Pre-dawn. It must be before 4 am. Conch outside the house? I hope not. If the conch, it means Param Satya is outside the house, instead of in bed downstairs. An airhorn maybe? One that sounds like a conch? A stretch.
Conch.
Conch in the temple means arati. Conch outside means something very different: War.
A window shatters outside. Voices are raised and in conflict. Heart rate increases. Is that our car? Adrenaline hits the bloodstream. Body surges up, mind focuses to a single point: no matter, what is done is done, what is about to be done has to be done with full focused attention.
Searching for my glasses. Not there. Curses! Deviation from routine leads to dangerous vulnerability.
Abandon the search for glasses. Lights. Check time. 2.55 am. Outside pants? On the railing. Retrieve them. Glasses nearby. No shirt - if application of force is required appearing with no shirt will be a greater deterrent.
Outside. No movement near our car. Voices across the road. Param Satya is there. Approach at an angle, stand off and assess.
Two people, both disturbed. Listen to the tones of voice, look for the posture of the body. No immediate threat. Don't go in, because with no shirt on and adrenaline in the bloodstream it will raise the intensity.
Situation seems stable. Another neighbour appears. Christopher, an older man. He reminds me of Bhagavat Asraya. He reassures the couple and together he and Param Satya work with them to resolve their situation. The girls feet and hand are cut from broken glass. She is drunk and distressed. The guy is rapidly sobering, and embarrassed.
Return to the house and put on a shirt and hooded jacket. Watch from the shadows.
They go back inside. We return to the house. 3.30 am.
Happiness in the mode of ignorance is nectar in the beginning and poison in the end. When you trace the chain of action and reaction back from your suffering you find that it directly connects with your proactive attempt to create enjoyment.
"Don't worry," Param Satya told her. "When you've been married for twenty years you'll look back at this and laugh."
Reassuring, perhaps, but I am more cynical. Statistically it is unlikely that they will marry, or remain married for 20 years if they do. And then, I would be more likely to cringe than laugh looking back at it.
Social destruction.
Last Wednesday Jagat Pati das left his body in Cairns, North Queensland, Australia.












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