Another lifetime in India
They are bricks on both side. There’s a priest. He’s very tall and very fair skinned. He looks very stern. He has black beard and very piercing eyes. But he’s very nice. He has long black hair. Greenish brown eyes. This is a hindu ritual. They have this brick and fire. He’s very tall, 6 feet 3 inches plus. He’s very tall even among the people. He’s dominating everybody there. He doesn’t have to say anything. But he’s very kind. I’m in love with him.
We are from different communities. He is a priest. But we are married. The people all look up to him. I’m very ordinary to look at. But he’s different to look at. He’s stern and no nonsense. I take good care of him. We have a son. He lives until 9 years old. He passes away suddenly. But the priest knew it. He also knew that I wanted to have this baby. So we had this baby. I recognized the baby as my friend in my current life. He was there until 9 years old. He fell ill then he died. But he promised that he’d come back. He told me not to worry that he’d come back.
My husband is the advisor of the particular set of villages there and I take care of the kids there. I teach them. Knowledge is everything. I teach them irrespective of their family background. Everybody sits at the same place. No differentiation. I never let the sorrow of my son to affect my life. After my son passes away, I also use my time meaningfully. I cannot contribute like my husband, so this is what I can do. I want the children to grow up in a healthy environment, with opportunity to learn.
All the mothers there send their kids to me. They children are very happy to learn. They all want to come. When their mothers come to pick them up, they start crying. I say to them, “No. Discipline is very important. When its time to go, you must go. And you must be very caring and loving to your mother, just like you are to me.”
