by Shannon

My breath always hitches as I make my way to Lal Baba’s little room, now a covered stone porch with make-shift plywood walls.  Will he still be alive?  Is someone caring for him?  Will he remember me?  When I was here in October and couldn’t find him, I was told that he had passed.  After roaming around a bit and asking more questions, I found him resting in a new location, definitely alive, but in waning health.  Now with my kids and a bag of offerings, I say a quick prayer that he’s okay.  We walk into the courtyard to his little door.  I knock and peek my head in.  He’s here!  He has a caregiver with him making food!  His mind is clear and he calls me over with surprise in his feeble voice.  His excitement grows, as does the glow of warmth around his shrinking body when he sees Celia and Mason climb through the door behind me.  It’s been 8 years since they’ve seen each other and he sits up to welcome them.  

Lal Baba is now 95 years old, having lived the life of a Hindu ascetic since he was 50.  We first met in 1998 when I was volunteering with the Mother Theresa sisters at Briddha Ashrams, a home for the dying and destitute.  After long mornings washing soiled sheets, bandaging bed sores, and helping feed the residents, I would make my way to Lal Baba’s for tea, biscuits, and his daily teachings.  He had a small shop then, in the shade of a sacred Pipal tree.  Some afternoons he would just sit with me in silence while I wept, overwhelmed with the suffering around me.  His presence, his smile, his shining eyes offered me sanctuary.  I have never come to Nepal without seeking his blessing.  

I have had many great teachers in my life.  Lal Baba and my children are amongst my greatest.  To see the three of them together, staring into each others eyes, laughing, trying to communicate, overwhelms my heart.  I know this may never happen again in this lifetime.  I feel the preciousness of this moment.  This is a sacred reunion.