The Inherited Custody

CHAPTER VI

6

This will be the last time I write to you.

Not because I am too mad at you. I am never mad at you. Only pity is what I feel towards a lost being. Like you.

But it is because whenever I think of you, I cannot shake the idea of you as ignorant and unenlightened. Obviously, people who are any one of the above, are always both of the above.

I preach to our children every day about reaching the greatest heights in faith. I want them, like me, to achieve this divinity that you so proudly renounced. And it is your renunciation that bothers me more than your abandoning of them and me. Even a blind shepherd knows where to lead the herd. Yet you, a herdless shepherd, fall across the dark holds with a chosen blindness.

I cannot persuade you. No. But I can leave you behind. Yes.

When we traveled together, I had one singular goal— to find the truth to be revealed. I knew already that my union with this land, these people at the ashram, would shine the greatest light from the great sun. And it is my turn.

Years have gone by. There is no you. And I have now understood the nature of your partition for me—the riddance of ignorance.

I had come here to find my lord, my divine, my enlightenment in these ranges. And yes, I agree, like I know you will say that these mountains are not the only place the lord appears. The divine light reaches everywhere on the planet.

And even after so long, after leaving behind home so far, so long ago, that returning will be as good as finding a stone lost at sea, I have finally understood the nature of my freedom. Your freedom.

It was so I wouldn't remain a cast out. So that I could get out there in the universe, directly, without you, and now that they have grown, without them.

A couple of years ago, if I were as alone as today, I would have morphed into a creature like you, blind with no point of view. I would have asked the Lord, why me? I would have asked him the reason behind my lack of hospitality and refuge. And eventually would blame him. Or her.

But today, I didn't. You were the wall that was meant to crumble. The only way I could see the light was your departure. It scared and baffled me even more at first. And those clumsy twisted paths have led me to where I am today— so close to the divine; I can taste it. Even Guru feels it in me.

Thank you, Charles. For loving me. And let me go. And going away. You were the obstacle that was perhaps always meant to be.

I really hope this letter reaches you at all. For it will be the final time I write to you.

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