MADE IN NIRVANA
Chapter 24
The list of gratitude
Spending time with Luna was pure joy. Whatever they did, Maria felt happy, alive, everything seemed full of meaning; there was always something important to discuss, apart from talking about love! They had left their conversation at the Tourist Camp with Luna having mentioned her sense of mission for world peace and Maria hadn't forgotten. They sat under the fan which hung from the ceiling and turned round and round.
"I'd like to go back to what you were saying earlier, about chanting for peace in the world," Maria said, as soon as they ordered the chai. "How does it work? I don't understand the concept! It seems a bit up in the air, still vague. In practice, how can it possibly work that you chant in a small room and the world becomes a better place?"
Luna nodded and settled on the bench, wiping the sweat from her forehead. There was an expression called 'kosen-rufu', she said, that meant that peace began from within ourselves. It taught us how to become absolutely happy, the equality of all human beings and respect for life. In practice, every small change in the way a person thought and acted had an effect on the people around them and on their environment. She gave her the example of the stone thrown into the water, making concentric, ever-wider circles, well after having sunk. They both remembered how Franca had replied with sarcasm that the stone sank, and laughed at the memory of it. Luna continued: As a result of her own change, for example transforming her tendency to anger quickly, into a tendency toward compassion, the relationships around her changed. "If I get angry with someone, that person definitely doesn't want to be near me, with the nasty vibrations I give out," she said, "and naturally I feel distant from her, thinking that she is separate from me and that we don't have anything in common; if something unpleasant happens to her, I don't feel involved. However, when I think in this way, I also feel lonely, detached, misunderstood, isolated from others, and this is when suffering creeps in." She looked at Maria. "Has it ever happened to you?"
Maria thought of all the times she'd felt lonely, left out, misunderstood and depressed.
"Yes, many times, and it makes me feel unhappy! I feel a sense of... void, of fear, almost," she said, thoughtfully. She was putting her emotions into words, for the first time.
Luna understood perfectly and went on to explain that instead, when she thought that everything was interconnected: people, situations, the environment and herself, that sense of separation vanished and she felt part of something much bigger, of the universe itself. Then the pain faded, compassion rose and she felt happy. At that point it became easy to reach out to someone who was suffering, because someone else's suffering, she said, was also her own. With every small change in herself, every new thing she understood and put into practice, she was doing her 'human revolution'.
"I like the word 'revolution'! It gives me a feeling of total change, of a thorough cleaning," Maria said. "But human revolution, what does that mean in practice? That you change human beings?"
Luna brought her feet up and sat cross-legged on the bench. "It means that you change this human being," she said, pointing the finger at herself, and settling a little better. "For example, whenever I notice negative trends in myself, such as anger, greed or stupidity, and maybe I do something driven by these feelings, I realize that my negativity has won; the clearest symptom is that I feel unhappy and begin to complain about something. That's when I chant to turn them into more… noble feelings!"
"You turn poison into medicine," said Maria.
Luna looked at her in surprise: "Is that what Harry told you?"
"Yes," laughed Maria. "But what are these 'more noble' feelings? In theory I like what you say, but in practice, what feelings are they? Sorry for the pedantic question!"
"Not at all! I like your questions, and when I explain things to you, I deepen my own understanding," Luna reassured her.
The waiter came, carrying a tray with two steaming chai and a saucer full of colourful sweets. He placed them on the table and looked from Maria to Luna, without any hurry to move away, curious, fascinated. Did they want anything else? No, thank you. Was the bench comfortable? Yes, thank you. Did they want any water? Yes, please, a bottle. Luna smiled at the waiter, who walked away happy, and then to Maria.
She continued: "Let's think of some examples: if I start to do 'daimoku' when I am angry at someone, little by little I begin to see the other person's point of view. By chanting for this person's happiness, my ego, my 'smaller self', reluctantly begins to step aside and I see things from a different perspective; gradually my anger becomes compassion, for me as well as for the other person." She shifted her position and leaned against the wall, then she continued: "If I am in the throes of insecurity and feel the need for approval, or admiration, which is again my 'smaller self', as it happens, after chanting for a while, I realize that I'm the one who doesn't approve of, or appreciate, myself. So, if I don't approve of myself, the one that comes from the outside is never enough; sometimes I won't even notice the approval that I do receive because, deep down, I am the one who lacks self-belief." She looked into Maria's eyes and, smiling, she said: "It's like having a bucket with holes in the bottom. You can continue to fill it, but unless you plug the holes, the water will flow out from the bottom... and your bucket will always be empty!"
"Whew! A bucket with holes. It must be mine," said Maria, reflecting. "I am very insecure and I always look for approval, a pat on the back from someone to tell me 'well done'! And what about stupidity? This word makes me laugh. I often am, stupid, I mean!"
"It makes me laugh, too; it seems such a common and 'modern' word, doesn't it? In Buddhism, stupidity is sometimes called 'ignorance' and it signifies not realizing, or not believing, that every person has this amazing potential that we call Buddhahood. It is hard to believe that we have it, but if we don't believe this, we can't see it in others. It always starts from us." She paused, thinking; then she said: "This ignorance is the cause of all the suffering, all the wars, all the conflicts among people. It is the most important concept of the entire Buddhist philosophy."
Maria looked at her for a moment in silence, amazed once again by this woman's way of thinking; they were the same age, but Luna seemed to have understood so much more. She was fascinating, to say the least, and Maria had a great deal of affection for her. She felt she could trust her; that Luna wanted her happiness, and she probably chanted for her. She thought again of the image of the circles made by the stone thrown in the water. However, if world peace, this 'kosen-rufu', as they called it, worked like that, it would take a million years to change the world!
"I understand what you're saying and the concept makes sense. But it is too slow, isn't it? From the moment you change something, maybe very small, in yourself, to changing the world. I don't know how it could possibly work," objected Maria. She would have loved to be in full agreement with her friend, but her doubts were too strong.
Luna agreed that it was a long process, but if they wanted a lasting peace, something had to change within human beings. If they tried to change only the external structures, the same problems would eventually present themselves again. They had to change the values they had in their hearts, she said, pointing with her index finger to her heart and her head. Each human being had the potential to be bright, wise, compassionate like the Buddha, or violent, cruel, a merciless torturer; there were no exceptions, the potential for good and for evil was inside each of us. Everything depended on which philosophy of life one chose, how one decided to respond when presented with difficult challenges and choices to make. This was exactly the essence of the human revolution and kosen-rufu; little by little, putting 'profound respect' into practice in every situation, at every cross-roads where we had to choose. "There isn't a land pure or impure in itself, explained a great sage called Nichiren," Luna said, "everything depends on the values that people have in their hearts! So, if you want to change your land, your environment, look at the values and principles that guide your actions."
Maria was listening carefully. Yes, but how long would this take? she asked again. Changing from within, she agreed, was perhaps the only way to really transform things, but it took too long.
"It's relative, like everything else, for that matter," replied Luna. "It depends on how many people commit to it! It's a great commitment to make because, apart from anything else, it improves your life; you're the one who gains! And then, of course it takes time, perhaps generations; the important thing is to begin. If we want a lasting peace, we have to work on ourselves, engage in dialogue with those around us, create friendships based on respect, getting to know the person in front of us, listening to them."
Maria had noticed that Luna always listened with her whole being, focusing on what she was hearing, as if not wanting to miss a word. "You listen with a lot of attention," she said with admiration.
"I try," said Luna. "I try to listen in order to understand not only the words but also the intentions behind the words." Seeing Maria's quizzical expression she clarified: "Sometimes it's hard to find the right words to express what you are feeling inside, especially when you're confused or if there is a lot of suffering. So, it's important that the listener makes that extra effort, to perceive what that person is trying to express. Behind angry words, for example, what is there? Probably a lot of suffering. If I can tune into the right wavelength, I will understand that the root of that anger is pain."
"It's hard when someone yells at you!"
"Yes, it's hard! Because someone's anger tends to awaken our own, but it gets easier with some practice and a lot of compassion," replied Luna. "Especially if we've been through the same. This is kosen-rufu hands on!" She took a short break, shuffling on the bench, while Maria absorbed the concepts. "Try to imagine what difference it would make if, instead of reacting defensively to someone's anger, as might feel natural, you can understand he's distressed and tell him you're sorry to see him so angry and to see him suffer!"
Maria tried to imagine the situation, putting herself in that person's shoes. She felt her anger melt away like a piece of ice in the sun. "If I were the angry one, and the other person told me so with compassion, I'd feel bewildered, for a start. Not finding myself in front of a wall of anger on which to bounce my wrath, the 'ball' of my anger would fly away, if I may put it that way."
"What a beautiful image!" Luna said with enthusiasm.
"Thank you, yes, I like it too!"
"From this understanding attitude, friendship and trust can be established."
"True," said Maria slowly, reflecting on the concept. "Is this 'compassion'?"
"Compassion, in Buddhism, means that 'I care about you'! If you care about a person, you can be friends; you can talk 'heart to heart'. It doesn't even matter if you see little of each other, or if you are far away; you know this person is present. What matters is the heart," Luna said. "From this feeling comes the certainty that this person wouldn't do you any harm."
"I'd like to go back to what you were saying earlier, about chanting for peace in the world," Maria said, as soon as they ordered the chai. "How does it work? I don't understand the concept! It seems a bit up in the air, still vague. In practice, how can it possibly work that you chant in a small room and the world becomes a better place?"
Luna nodded and settled on the bench, wiping the sweat from her forehead. There was an expression called 'kosen-rufu', she said, that meant that peace began from within ourselves. It taught us how to become absolutely happy, the equality of all human beings and respect for life. In practice, every small change in the way a person thought and acted had an effect on the people around them and on their environment. She gave her the example of the stone thrown into the water, making concentric, ever-wider circles, well after having sunk. They both remembered how Franca had replied with sarcasm that the stone sank, and laughed at the memory of it. Luna continued: As a result of her own change, for example transforming her tendency to anger quickly, into a tendency toward compassion, the relationships around her changed. "If I get angry with someone, that person definitely doesn't want to be near me, with the nasty vibrations I give out," she said, "and naturally I feel distant from her, thinking that she is separate from me and that we don't have anything in common; if something unpleasant happens to her, I don't feel involved. However, when I think in this way, I also feel lonely, detached, misunderstood, isolated from others, and this is when suffering creeps in." She looked at Maria. "Has it ever happened to you?"
Maria thought of all the times she'd felt lonely, left out, misunderstood and depressed.
"Yes, many times, and it makes me feel unhappy! I feel a sense of... void, of fear, almost," she said, thoughtfully. She was putting her emotions into words, for the first time.
Luna understood perfectly and went on to explain that instead, when she thought that everything was interconnected: people, situations, the environment and herself, that sense of separation vanished and she felt part of something much bigger, of the universe itself. Then the pain faded, compassion rose and she felt happy. At that point it became easy to reach out to someone who was suffering, because someone else's suffering, she said, was also her own. With every small change in herself, every new thing she understood and put into practice, she was doing her 'human revolution'.
"I like the word 'revolution'! It gives me a feeling of total change, of a thorough cleaning," Maria said. "But human revolution, what does that mean in practice? That you change human beings?"
Luna brought her feet up and sat cross-legged on the bench. "It means that you change this human being," she said, pointing the finger at herself, and settling a little better. "For example, whenever I notice negative trends in myself, such as anger, greed or stupidity, and maybe I do something driven by these feelings, I realize that my negativity has won; the clearest symptom is that I feel unhappy and begin to complain about something. That's when I chant to turn them into more… noble feelings!"
"You turn poison into medicine," said Maria.
Luna looked at her in surprise: "Is that what Harry told you?"
"Yes," laughed Maria. "But what are these 'more noble' feelings? In theory I like what you say, but in practice, what feelings are they? Sorry for the pedantic question!"
"Not at all! I like your questions, and when I explain things to you, I deepen my own understanding," Luna reassured her.
The waiter came, carrying a tray with two steaming chai and a saucer full of colourful sweets. He placed them on the table and looked from Maria to Luna, without any hurry to move away, curious, fascinated. Did they want anything else? No, thank you. Was the bench comfortable? Yes, thank you. Did they want any water? Yes, please, a bottle. Luna smiled at the waiter, who walked away happy, and then to Maria.
She continued: "Let's think of some examples: if I start to do 'daimoku' when I am angry at someone, little by little I begin to see the other person's point of view. By chanting for this person's happiness, my ego, my 'smaller self', reluctantly begins to step aside and I see things from a different perspective; gradually my anger becomes compassion, for me as well as for the other person." She shifted her position and leaned against the wall, then she continued: "If I am in the throes of insecurity and feel the need for approval, or admiration, which is again my 'smaller self', as it happens, after chanting for a while, I realize that I'm the one who doesn't approve of, or appreciate, myself. So, if I don't approve of myself, the one that comes from the outside is never enough; sometimes I won't even notice the approval that I do receive because, deep down, I am the one who lacks self-belief." She looked into Maria's eyes and, smiling, she said: "It's like having a bucket with holes in the bottom. You can continue to fill it, but unless you plug the holes, the water will flow out from the bottom... and your bucket will always be empty!"
"Whew! A bucket with holes. It must be mine," said Maria, reflecting. "I am very insecure and I always look for approval, a pat on the back from someone to tell me 'well done'! And what about stupidity? This word makes me laugh. I often am, stupid, I mean!"
"It makes me laugh, too; it seems such a common and 'modern' word, doesn't it? In Buddhism, stupidity is sometimes called 'ignorance' and it signifies not realizing, or not believing, that every person has this amazing potential that we call Buddhahood. It is hard to believe that we have it, but if we don't believe this, we can't see it in others. It always starts from us." She paused, thinking; then she said: "This ignorance is the cause of all the suffering, all the wars, all the conflicts among people. It is the most important concept of the entire Buddhist philosophy."
Maria looked at her for a moment in silence, amazed once again by this woman's way of thinking; they were the same age, but Luna seemed to have understood so much more. She was fascinating, to say the least, and Maria had a great deal of affection for her. She felt she could trust her; that Luna wanted her happiness, and she probably chanted for her. She thought again of the image of the circles made by the stone thrown in the water. However, if world peace, this 'kosen-rufu', as they called it, worked like that, it would take a million years to change the world!
"I understand what you're saying and the concept makes sense. But it is too slow, isn't it? From the moment you change something, maybe very small, in yourself, to changing the world. I don't know how it could possibly work," objected Maria. She would have loved to be in full agreement with her friend, but her doubts were too strong.
Luna agreed that it was a long process, but if they wanted a lasting peace, something had to change within human beings. If they tried to change only the external structures, the same problems would eventually present themselves again. They had to change the values they had in their hearts, she said, pointing with her index finger to her heart and her head. Each human being had the potential to be bright, wise, compassionate like the Buddha, or violent, cruel, a merciless torturer; there were no exceptions, the potential for good and for evil was inside each of us. Everything depended on which philosophy of life one chose, how one decided to respond when presented with difficult challenges and choices to make. This was exactly the essence of the human revolution and kosen-rufu; little by little, putting 'profound respect' into practice in every situation, at every cross-roads where we had to choose. "There isn't a land pure or impure in itself, explained a great sage called Nichiren," Luna said, "everything depends on the values that people have in their hearts! So, if you want to change your land, your environment, look at the values and principles that guide your actions."
Maria was listening carefully. Yes, but how long would this take? she asked again. Changing from within, she agreed, was perhaps the only way to really transform things, but it took too long.
"It's relative, like everything else, for that matter," replied Luna. "It depends on how many people commit to it! It's a great commitment to make because, apart from anything else, it improves your life; you're the one who gains! And then, of course it takes time, perhaps generations; the important thing is to begin. If we want a lasting peace, we have to work on ourselves, engage in dialogue with those around us, create friendships based on respect, getting to know the person in front of us, listening to them."
Maria had noticed that Luna always listened with her whole being, focusing on what she was hearing, as if not wanting to miss a word. "You listen with a lot of attention," she said with admiration.
"I try," said Luna. "I try to listen in order to understand not only the words but also the intentions behind the words." Seeing Maria's quizzical expression she clarified: "Sometimes it's hard to find the right words to express what you are feeling inside, especially when you're confused or if there is a lot of suffering. So, it's important that the listener makes that extra effort, to perceive what that person is trying to express. Behind angry words, for example, what is there? Probably a lot of suffering. If I can tune into the right wavelength, I will understand that the root of that anger is pain."
"It's hard when someone yells at you!"
"Yes, it's hard! Because someone's anger tends to awaken our own, but it gets easier with some practice and a lot of compassion," replied Luna. "Especially if we've been through the same. This is kosen-rufu hands on!" She took a short break, shuffling on the bench, while Maria absorbed the concepts. "Try to imagine what difference it would make if, instead of reacting defensively to someone's anger, as might feel natural, you can understand he's distressed and tell him you're sorry to see him so angry and to see him suffer!"
Maria tried to imagine the situation, putting herself in that person's shoes. She felt her anger melt away like a piece of ice in the sun. "If I were the angry one, and the other person told me so with compassion, I'd feel bewildered, for a start. Not finding myself in front of a wall of anger on which to bounce my wrath, the 'ball' of my anger would fly away, if I may put it that way."
"What a beautiful image!" Luna said with enthusiasm.
"Thank you, yes, I like it too!"
"From this understanding attitude, friendship and trust can be established."
"True," said Maria slowly, reflecting on the concept. "Is this 'compassion'?"
"Compassion, in Buddhism, means that 'I care about you'! If you care about a person, you can be friends; you can talk 'heart to heart'. It doesn't even matter if you see little of each other, or if you are far away; you know this person is present. What matters is the heart," Luna said. "From this feeling comes the certainty that this person wouldn't do you any harm."
Maria thought of Franca. Did she trust her? She cared about her, but was the feeling mutual? There was something that bothered her, but she didn't want to think about it now. She pushed the uncomfortable feeling to the back of her mind, for the time being. "In the case of sincere friendship, yes, I can agree," she mused.
"If the friendship is not sincere, it's not friendship," Luna said simply, looking at her.
Maria went silent. That feeling resurfaced, obstinately, and wouldn't go away; it was a look, a wry smile, a feeling that had lasted only a second, something she had noticed but couldn't put her finger on. She drove the thought of Franca into the background; she'd think about it later. She nodded thoughtfully, encouraging Luna to continue.
"If there is trust between two people, most of the time there won't be any conflict," she continued. "If and when problems arise, they will resolve them through dialogue, because both of them care about each other."
"Like, for example, between you and me?" asked Maria, after a brief pause. "If we had problems, we'd talk about them and resolve them. We certainly wouldn't lose this friendship!"
"Thank you for considering me a friend," Luna said, pleasantly touched. "Yes, that's the way it is. From friendship to trust and from trust to peace. This is the process that leads to lasting peace."
"Okay, I understand but... I'm sorry if I keep asking one question after another!"
"Not at all, that's fine. What did want you ask?" Luna encouraged her.
"Two people can create friendship, trust and dialogue, but wars are between nations, so what can be done? It's not the same, is it? It's much more complicated."
While Luna answered her question, Maria took the opportunity to eat a sweet and take a sip of the chai that had now cooled a little.
"In a sense, the process is similar. It's very important that people from different countries establish links of friendship, if they don't already exist. We begin by talking about what we have in common; everyone likes sports, for example! We can organize exchanges based on sports, friendly matches. Who wouldn't like that? Then, everybody likes art, and all countries have good painters, sculptors, musicians, singers, dancers. We can organize exchanges of music, concerts, art exhibitions going from town to town."
"But don't we already do these things? Games, concerts, ballets, and so on," Maria asked, swallowing quickly and wiping the crumbs from her mouth.
"There are competitive matches, concerts to which few people can go, because they are too expensive! I'm thinking of more popular things, open to everyone. Later, as part of the dialogue process, we can talk about health, about love for children, respect for the elderly. These are all things that unite people, while differences may divide."
"And organize exchanges of young and older people?" asked Maria, with enthusiasm.
Luna looked at her, amused, and laughed. "Yes, but we don't leave them there. Only temporary exchanges, then everyone takes back their young and old people and brings them home!" They laughed at the funny image of swapping grandparents between one border and the other. "Exchanges in general, especially of young people, because they are the future, so it's important that they open their minds and have international experiences, but also adults, of course," Luna said.
"It would work, yes, I understand," nodded Maria. "When you spend a period of time in a foreign country, with the locals, you make friends. You eat like them, you live like they do and become part of the family. When you know the people and the customs of different countries, you stop thinking of them as "strangers" and see them just as people, like you and me." Luna nodded, smiled, and bit into one of the sweets. Maria continued with enthusiasm: "I remember an experience I had in Bulgaria a few years ago. Ugo and I were travelling to Greece by motorbike. The first week we rode through Yugoslavia and one afternoon we arrived at the border with Bulgaria, it was already late and was raining heavily. Bulgaria, as you know, is a very closed communist country. We stopped at the first bar, which was also a restaurant, but we hadn't changed any money, so we had no Bulgarian currency; the rain was terrible and it was too dangerous to continue, so we had no choice." Luna was listening with interest. She picked up her chai and sipped it, without taking her eyes off Maria, who was in full flow: "We sat at a table, arousing the curiosity of all the people in there. The waiter didn't speak a word of Italian, French, English or German, and we didn't speak Bulgarian. A boy from a nearby table, who spoke just a smattering of French, came to our rescue. I told him that we had no Bulgarian currency, so we couldn't order anything. This boy was with a group of young people and he translated what I told him to his friends who, waving their arms and with big smiles, invited us to their table. They brought coffee, tea, wine, water and plates full of meat, potatoes and vegetables." Luna listened, smiling. Maria was remembering and continued: "They encouraged us to eat, giving us affectionate pats on the shoulder and looking at us with such joy! They joked between them and laughed loudly. We toasted with red wine many times during this meeting where they spoke Bulgarian and we spoke Italian, and a bit of French!"
"That's wonderful! And then?" asked Luna, settling on the bench and straightening her back.
The waiter arrived with a bottle of cold water and two clean glasses and put them on the table, stopping to look from Maria to Luna and from Luna to Maria. They smiled at him, amused by how openly he showed his interest. Did they want anything else? No, thank you. Another chai? No thank you. More sweets? Very kind, but no thanks. Finally, reluctantly, he walked away.
Luna returned her gaze to Maria and asked her to continue where she'd left off: "And then?" she encouraged her.
"When it was time to pay, they paid, of course, and then they roughly explained that they were taking us somewhere to sleep, as the restaurant was about to close and the rain continued to pour! Tipsy as we were, we decided that Ugo would ride the bike and I would go in the car with the Bulgarian boys." Luna looked at her, worried.
Maria returned her a look of complicity and continued: "Once in the car, I sat behind with two guys, two others sat in the front and they began to drive at full speed. When I turned I could see the bike's headlights behind us, but Ugo was struggling to keep up. Sometimes his lights disappeared around a bend; the road was full of mud and I began to worry that he might slip. If he fell what would happen? I realized how vulnerable we were. Smiling, I kept motioning for them to slow down, I looked behind for the bike's headlights and they laughed loud. They'd slow down a bit and then accelerate again. We were all pretty drunk and they drove fast, so it seemed to me; maybe for them, who knew the road like the back of their hands, it was normal to drive like that."
"What a risk!" said Luna, involved in the story.
"Yes, and I was perfectly aware of it, but I continued to smile and laugh with them, I didn't want them to see my concern. Well, after some endless twenty minutes, maybe less, we arrived in the courtyard of a house in the countryside. The boys woke up the elderly couple who lived there, maybe they were the parents of one of them, and they welcomed us into the house, with big smiles, very protective. The young people said goodbye, they left and we never saw them again.
The elderly couple made us take off our wet jackets and trousers, they gave us a dry blanket and served us some strong liquor; all this without a common language, only gestures and words in Bulgarian from them, in Italian from us. Then they showed us a room with a very high bed. I remember that the bed was so high I had to climb on it," said Maria, laughing.
"What an adventure! And what beautiful people," Luna said.
"Yes, indeed! The next morning they woke us up early, I didn't know what time it was. The table was laden with a huge breakfast: fried eggs, homemade bread, butter, jam and plenty of coffee. They watched us eat, smiling, as if we were their children, keen to feed us, insisting that we take a little more. When they saw that we were getting ready to leave, they tried to make us stay, it was still raining; but it was difficult without a common language and we wanted to leave all the same.
So, they prepared a bag for us to take away, with bread, salami and cheese, apples, figs, all sorts of things. They were patting us on the shoulder as if to say, please, be careful. With gestures they told us we could come back if it was raining too much, and so we parted! Later we realized that we had woken up at five in the morning, just before dawn!"
Luna looked at her in silence for a moment and then, reflecting, she said: "That's the way it is, isn't it? Humanity. Listening to your story, I realized that I, too, in their place, would have done the same as the Bulgarian boys. You too, perhaps, would have done the same thing, wouldn't you? Helping people like you and Ugo, in that situation."
"Yes, I've done it many times with young people who were travelling in Italy."
"And what a satisfaction the two elders who took you in must have felt, to give you the big bed, to prepare you breakfast, the food-bag for the trip!" She paused, thinking to herself. "When we do something for another, in the end we do it for ourselves, too. We get a great deal of fulfilment from helping another human being," Luna mused.
"It's true! I have heard many stories of how people helped even the 'enemies' during the war; enemy soldiers who were lost, or who had deserted, hosted by peasants' families; persecuted Jews who were hidden by 'common' people, at the risk of their own lives and that of their families," said Maria.
Luna nodded and said: "There are stories like this in every country of the world. This tells me that humanity is the same everywhere, regardless of race, political or religious belief."
"You're right," Maria agreed. "If I think of how good I feel when I do something for another person, it's as good as the person receiving the favour, or kindness. At times it's a bigger pleasure to give than to receive."
"That's true, it's nourishment for that positive side that is in each of us," said Luna. "I find it's important to give wholeheartedly without hoping to be thanked. I prefer to give for the sake of giving and remain free of expectations."
"If the friendship is not sincere, it's not friendship," Luna said simply, looking at her.
Maria went silent. That feeling resurfaced, obstinately, and wouldn't go away; it was a look, a wry smile, a feeling that had lasted only a second, something she had noticed but couldn't put her finger on. She drove the thought of Franca into the background; she'd think about it later. She nodded thoughtfully, encouraging Luna to continue.
"If there is trust between two people, most of the time there won't be any conflict," she continued. "If and when problems arise, they will resolve them through dialogue, because both of them care about each other."
"Like, for example, between you and me?" asked Maria, after a brief pause. "If we had problems, we'd talk about them and resolve them. We certainly wouldn't lose this friendship!"
"Thank you for considering me a friend," Luna said, pleasantly touched. "Yes, that's the way it is. From friendship to trust and from trust to peace. This is the process that leads to lasting peace."
"Okay, I understand but... I'm sorry if I keep asking one question after another!"
"Not at all, that's fine. What did want you ask?" Luna encouraged her.
"Two people can create friendship, trust and dialogue, but wars are between nations, so what can be done? It's not the same, is it? It's much more complicated."
While Luna answered her question, Maria took the opportunity to eat a sweet and take a sip of the chai that had now cooled a little.
"In a sense, the process is similar. It's very important that people from different countries establish links of friendship, if they don't already exist. We begin by talking about what we have in common; everyone likes sports, for example! We can organize exchanges based on sports, friendly matches. Who wouldn't like that? Then, everybody likes art, and all countries have good painters, sculptors, musicians, singers, dancers. We can organize exchanges of music, concerts, art exhibitions going from town to town."
"But don't we already do these things? Games, concerts, ballets, and so on," Maria asked, swallowing quickly and wiping the crumbs from her mouth.
"There are competitive matches, concerts to which few people can go, because they are too expensive! I'm thinking of more popular things, open to everyone. Later, as part of the dialogue process, we can talk about health, about love for children, respect for the elderly. These are all things that unite people, while differences may divide."
"And organize exchanges of young and older people?" asked Maria, with enthusiasm.
Luna looked at her, amused, and laughed. "Yes, but we don't leave them there. Only temporary exchanges, then everyone takes back their young and old people and brings them home!" They laughed at the funny image of swapping grandparents between one border and the other. "Exchanges in general, especially of young people, because they are the future, so it's important that they open their minds and have international experiences, but also adults, of course," Luna said.
"It would work, yes, I understand," nodded Maria. "When you spend a period of time in a foreign country, with the locals, you make friends. You eat like them, you live like they do and become part of the family. When you know the people and the customs of different countries, you stop thinking of them as "strangers" and see them just as people, like you and me." Luna nodded, smiled, and bit into one of the sweets. Maria continued with enthusiasm: "I remember an experience I had in Bulgaria a few years ago. Ugo and I were travelling to Greece by motorbike. The first week we rode through Yugoslavia and one afternoon we arrived at the border with Bulgaria, it was already late and was raining heavily. Bulgaria, as you know, is a very closed communist country. We stopped at the first bar, which was also a restaurant, but we hadn't changed any money, so we had no Bulgarian currency; the rain was terrible and it was too dangerous to continue, so we had no choice." Luna was listening with interest. She picked up her chai and sipped it, without taking her eyes off Maria, who was in full flow: "We sat at a table, arousing the curiosity of all the people in there. The waiter didn't speak a word of Italian, French, English or German, and we didn't speak Bulgarian. A boy from a nearby table, who spoke just a smattering of French, came to our rescue. I told him that we had no Bulgarian currency, so we couldn't order anything. This boy was with a group of young people and he translated what I told him to his friends who, waving their arms and with big smiles, invited us to their table. They brought coffee, tea, wine, water and plates full of meat, potatoes and vegetables." Luna listened, smiling. Maria was remembering and continued: "They encouraged us to eat, giving us affectionate pats on the shoulder and looking at us with such joy! They joked between them and laughed loudly. We toasted with red wine many times during this meeting where they spoke Bulgarian and we spoke Italian, and a bit of French!"
"That's wonderful! And then?" asked Luna, settling on the bench and straightening her back.
The waiter arrived with a bottle of cold water and two clean glasses and put them on the table, stopping to look from Maria to Luna and from Luna to Maria. They smiled at him, amused by how openly he showed his interest. Did they want anything else? No, thank you. Another chai? No thank you. More sweets? Very kind, but no thanks. Finally, reluctantly, he walked away.
Luna returned her gaze to Maria and asked her to continue where she'd left off: "And then?" she encouraged her.
"When it was time to pay, they paid, of course, and then they roughly explained that they were taking us somewhere to sleep, as the restaurant was about to close and the rain continued to pour! Tipsy as we were, we decided that Ugo would ride the bike and I would go in the car with the Bulgarian boys." Luna looked at her, worried.
Maria returned her a look of complicity and continued: "Once in the car, I sat behind with two guys, two others sat in the front and they began to drive at full speed. When I turned I could see the bike's headlights behind us, but Ugo was struggling to keep up. Sometimes his lights disappeared around a bend; the road was full of mud and I began to worry that he might slip. If he fell what would happen? I realized how vulnerable we were. Smiling, I kept motioning for them to slow down, I looked behind for the bike's headlights and they laughed loud. They'd slow down a bit and then accelerate again. We were all pretty drunk and they drove fast, so it seemed to me; maybe for them, who knew the road like the back of their hands, it was normal to drive like that."
"What a risk!" said Luna, involved in the story.
"Yes, and I was perfectly aware of it, but I continued to smile and laugh with them, I didn't want them to see my concern. Well, after some endless twenty minutes, maybe less, we arrived in the courtyard of a house in the countryside. The boys woke up the elderly couple who lived there, maybe they were the parents of one of them, and they welcomed us into the house, with big smiles, very protective. The young people said goodbye, they left and we never saw them again.
The elderly couple made us take off our wet jackets and trousers, they gave us a dry blanket and served us some strong liquor; all this without a common language, only gestures and words in Bulgarian from them, in Italian from us. Then they showed us a room with a very high bed. I remember that the bed was so high I had to climb on it," said Maria, laughing.
"What an adventure! And what beautiful people," Luna said.
"Yes, indeed! The next morning they woke us up early, I didn't know what time it was. The table was laden with a huge breakfast: fried eggs, homemade bread, butter, jam and plenty of coffee. They watched us eat, smiling, as if we were their children, keen to feed us, insisting that we take a little more. When they saw that we were getting ready to leave, they tried to make us stay, it was still raining; but it was difficult without a common language and we wanted to leave all the same.
So, they prepared a bag for us to take away, with bread, salami and cheese, apples, figs, all sorts of things. They were patting us on the shoulder as if to say, please, be careful. With gestures they told us we could come back if it was raining too much, and so we parted! Later we realized that we had woken up at five in the morning, just before dawn!"
Luna looked at her in silence for a moment and then, reflecting, she said: "That's the way it is, isn't it? Humanity. Listening to your story, I realized that I, too, in their place, would have done the same as the Bulgarian boys. You too, perhaps, would have done the same thing, wouldn't you? Helping people like you and Ugo, in that situation."
"Yes, I've done it many times with young people who were travelling in Italy."
"And what a satisfaction the two elders who took you in must have felt, to give you the big bed, to prepare you breakfast, the food-bag for the trip!" She paused, thinking to herself. "When we do something for another, in the end we do it for ourselves, too. We get a great deal of fulfilment from helping another human being," Luna mused.
"It's true! I have heard many stories of how people helped even the 'enemies' during the war; enemy soldiers who were lost, or who had deserted, hosted by peasants' families; persecuted Jews who were hidden by 'common' people, at the risk of their own lives and that of their families," said Maria.
Luna nodded and said: "There are stories like this in every country of the world. This tells me that humanity is the same everywhere, regardless of race, political or religious belief."
"You're right," Maria agreed. "If I think of how good I feel when I do something for another person, it's as good as the person receiving the favour, or kindness. At times it's a bigger pleasure to give than to receive."
"That's true, it's nourishment for that positive side that is in each of us," said Luna. "I find it's important to give wholeheartedly without hoping to be thanked. I prefer to give for the sake of giving and remain free of expectations."
"I have a question..." Maria said, pondering. "If I make a good action, I create a positive cause and then I'll get a positive effect, right?"
"That's right," Luna replied, laughing and expecting an interesting question.
"So, if I do something good just to get a positive effect, do I lose, how would I say, some of the benefits? In short, are my good deeds less effective if I plan them in order to achieve the positive effects?"
Luna laughed, amused, but she was also seriously considering Maria's question. After a moment's reflection she said: "If you do a good thing, knowing that you are planting the seeds for positive effects, I don't see why you should get 'watered down' effects. The fact that you are aware of the law of cause and effect doesn't change this law."
"Then I can create a future full of positive effects, just by taking positive actions! I really can plan a wonderful future?" asked Maria.
Luna thought about it for a moment and then replied: "Absolutely! Think about it, you are creating your future karma! In addition, with regard to the present, Buddhism tells me that the effects can be of two types, visible and invisible, or intangible. A visible benefit is to find a job that I like, for example, a partner with whom I can build a happy relationship, things like that, that you can see and touch. But there are also intangible benefits and those are perhaps the most important ones!" She poured some water into Maria's glass and then some into hers.
"And they are…?" asked Maria, intrigued.
"The way I feel, for starters, I'm happy, satisfied with what I have; and then the way I respond to the situations that life presents me. For example, let's say there are two people in the same situation: both have an office job, the same colleagues, a house and a cat. One of those people feels satisfied, happy and fulfilled, while the other feels unhappy, sad and lonely. For a long time I've wondered what the big difference between them is!"
"Maybe other things besides work, home and the cat?" suggested Maria.
"Sure! But above all, their state of mind. When we feel grateful for what we have, for our lives, we are happy, light, we shine like a star. If we complain, seeing the glass as half empty rather than half full," she said, looking at their glasses half full of water, "... even if we have the same things, we won't be able to appreciate them, and consequently we won't be as happy."
"Are you saying that it is as simple as feeling grateful for our lives, and then we are happy?" asked Maria, uncertain.
"Yes! Gratitude is the best recipe. Whenever I feel down, or I'm angry, I think to myself 'what's wrong, Luna?' and I realize that, inside, I'm complaining about something. There is nothing worse than complaint to make you feel like 'shit', if you excuse my French!"
Maria laughed, surprised. Luna didn't swear, her Italian was very correct, and then she came out with a phrase like that! They noticed that the waiter was laughing too, even though he hadn't understood a word; he hadn't taken his eyes off them, casting glances full of love, torn between one and the other.
"What do you usually complain about?" Maria asked, going back to looking at Luna.
"Oh, anything! Ted not getting up, the sun that's too hot, the bus that doesn't arrive, the bed that's too hard, lack of money, Harry who doesn't make up his mind to kiss me, and so on and so forth!"
"But these are real things! It's natural to complain about them," Maria pointed out.
"Yes and no. The fact is that it doesn't do me any good to complain, it drags me down even more," replied Luna.
"So, what do you do? Do you decide to be happy even if you're not?" asked Maria, drinking a sip of fresh water.
"More or less! When I realize that I'm complaining, I just accept that things are the way they are and, from there, I start to change my state of mind. I think: 'That's the way it is. Period! Now what do I do? Do I continue to be dissatisfied? No, thanks, I'm already tired of feeling like this.' That's when gratitude comes into play; I think of my list of gratitude, maybe I read it, and everything changes!"
"What list of gratitude?" Maria asked, intrigued.
"It's a list that I made a while ago, I have it here, look," Luna said, looking in her passport bag. She pulled out a piece of paper folded in four, opened it and began to read:
"I am grateful for:
One: being alive;
two: being healthy;
three: living in a country that enjoys peace;
four: being smart;
five: being educated;
six: Having a family that loves me and supports me;
seven: having a healthy mother and father;
eight: having friends;
nine: knowing and practicing Buddhism;
ten: the sun rising every morning;
eleven: the moon and the stars;
twelve: the universe with its balance;
thirteen: pasta with pesto, I love it;
fourteen: tiramisu, it's my favourite dessert;
fifteen: the snow;
sixteen: the sea;
seventeen: my cat, and so on. I have fifty points written down and I don't want to bore you, but you get an idea, don't you?"
"Whaw!" exclaimed Maria, "from the smallest things to things as vast as the universe. While I was listening I realized the effect of gratitude."
"Absolutely! Look, I felt good when I wrote the list, and every now and then I add things to it as they come to me. Then, every time I re-read it, it brings back this feeling of gratitude, and all complaints vanish," Luna said, folding her piece of paper and putting it back into her passport bag.
With the perfumes in their bags, happy with their dialogue and their friendship, they said goodbye to the love-struck waiter and took a rickshaw back to the Tourist Camp, making the most of those last moments together, on their own. For Maria this was perhaps the last time she would go through those parts of the capital before leaving India and everything she saw was coloured by the love she felt for this country and its people, as well as for the wonderful friends she had met; of all of them Luna was perhaps the most precious, showing her the clearest example with her life and helping her grow the most.
While the rickshaw man pedalled rhythmically with his skinny muscular legs, Maria looked around, saying goodbye in her heart to the people who lived by the side of the road; to the women who carried water in old tin containers balanced on their heads; to the men who mended scooters and bicycles with improvised tools; to the children running behind the bicycle wheels; to the little girls with their tidy braids helping their mothers; to the cows that hung lazily around in the afternoon traffic and to the noisy scooters, the proud Harley Davidson, the carts pulled by oxen, the chai-shops along the road.
They arrived at the Tourist Camp in silence, tired but satisfied.
They met up again to have dinner with Ted and Harry, who were delighted with the day they had spent together in Old Delhi. They talked about departures. The three of them were leaving the next day for Srinagar in Kashmir. Maria still had one more day in Delhi before leaving for Italy. After dinner, they chanted together for the last time and Maria thought about gratitude. During that 'daimoku' session, which lasted only ten minutes, her heart overflowed with the appreciation she felt for her life and for those two and a half incredible months that had transformed her so completely. She noticed that something had changed in Harry's attitude, too.
He seemed more confident and, instead of sitting further back, as he had done in the morning, he was sitting next to Luna, chanting with power and determination. At the end of the 'daimoku' Maria said she wanted to talk to Ted and went out looking for him, thus giving the two of them the opportunity to be alone. She saw them go out of the Tourist Camp, walking close to each other, talking. Ted was at the restaurant, having a beer with Siggi, and Maria joined them. Not far from them, Gianluca pulled out his flute and soon a small crowd gathered around him. Someone made a joint; someone else passed around a box of biscuits; there was a German boy with a king cobra as a pet which he kept inside a basket. The evening went by in an atmosphere of magic. Maria wanted to say goodbye to Luna and Harry, who would be leaving early in the morning, but she didn't dare disturb them. Ted told her it was better to leave them alone, something was going on; they both sensed it.
Around midnight, reluctantly, she said goodbye to everybody and went to her dormitory, accepting that she wouldn't be able to say her final farewell to Luna and Harry. To her great surprise, Ted arrived a few minutes later, asking if there was a spare bed. Yes, there was. She looked at him quizzically. "Are they back?" she asked.
"Yes!" replied Ted. "They need to be alone. At last!"
She felt a smile rise from her heart, slowly reaching her face: "Yes, finally!"
Ted lay down on the bed next to Maria's; he had nothing to cover himself with, all his belongings were in the room he shared with his friends.
"Do you need a sarong? To put over you."
"That would be lovely, thank you. It's hot but a sarong is always useful!"
Maria took one of the new sarongs out of her backpack, gave it to Ted and went back to bed. He partly covered himself with it and reached out to Maria; she held his hand in hers and so, from one bed to another, hand in hand, they shared the joy of knowing that 'those two' were finally together. If all went as hoped, the dam holding back the feelings they felt for each other would be broken and they could be happy together.
"They are made for each other," said Maria.
"They're perfect together," Ted agreed.
She closed her eyes and fell asleep with a smile on her lips and Ted's warm hand holding hers.
She felt a kiss on her lips. It was Ted, ready to go. "Luna will be here in a moment," he said.
With difficulty she opened her eyes, it wasn't yet five o'clock in the morning and the day was just beginning to dawn. "See you soon I hope," he said.
"Good luck, Ted. I'll see you at the cinema!"
"Come to London and we'll see each other for real," he replied.
Luna walked into the dorm, ready to leave, wearing a white t-shirt and Indian-style pyjama trousers. She sat on her bed and Maria saw the light she was hoping to see. "Everything all right?" she asked.
"More than all right, perfect," Luna replied, her face relaxed, her eyes full of love.
"I'm happy for you," Maria said, squeezing her hand.
"Thank you, we are happy too! Thanks for everything Maria. You are a precious friend."
"When will we see each other again? I know it's the heart that counts, but so does seeing each other, to celebrate your new beginning."
"We'll definitely meet up, let's keep in touch!" She gave her a piece of paper on which she had written her address. "Write to me, and we'll work something out. And let me know what happens with your life, and with the Frenchman!"
"You can count on that! Thank you for everything! Thanks for the Nam-myoho-renge-kyo."
"Thank you! Continue to use it to become happy."
Harry came in, relaxed, bubbling with joy as she had never seen him before. He sat on her bed and lowered himself to kiss her: "Thank you Maria, you have been instrumental!"
"Who? Me?"
"Yes, you. You gave me the push I needed. After what you told me, I asked myself if I was stupid or crazy to wait, or delay. Thank you!"
"The pleasure is all mine. You both deserve to be happy. Don't lose her!"
"Now she's mine, I caught her," said Harry, laughing and looking at Luna who was smiling. "If she tries to run away I'll scoop her up and carry her home!"
They laughed, delighted, and then the little procession of friends, who had whispered their happiness by her bed, walked out of the dormitory. Maria closed her eyes; a happy smile flooded her face and filled her heart. One day she would feel as happy, too, she was confident. She obliged herself to stay in bed, it was her last day and she didn't know how to spend it. She turned and tossed, and finally, with the sarong she had lent to Ted over her eyes, she fell asleep.
"That's right," Luna replied, laughing and expecting an interesting question.
"So, if I do something good just to get a positive effect, do I lose, how would I say, some of the benefits? In short, are my good deeds less effective if I plan them in order to achieve the positive effects?"
Luna laughed, amused, but she was also seriously considering Maria's question. After a moment's reflection she said: "If you do a good thing, knowing that you are planting the seeds for positive effects, I don't see why you should get 'watered down' effects. The fact that you are aware of the law of cause and effect doesn't change this law."
"Then I can create a future full of positive effects, just by taking positive actions! I really can plan a wonderful future?" asked Maria.
Luna thought about it for a moment and then replied: "Absolutely! Think about it, you are creating your future karma! In addition, with regard to the present, Buddhism tells me that the effects can be of two types, visible and invisible, or intangible. A visible benefit is to find a job that I like, for example, a partner with whom I can build a happy relationship, things like that, that you can see and touch. But there are also intangible benefits and those are perhaps the most important ones!" She poured some water into Maria's glass and then some into hers.
"And they are…?" asked Maria, intrigued.
"The way I feel, for starters, I'm happy, satisfied with what I have; and then the way I respond to the situations that life presents me. For example, let's say there are two people in the same situation: both have an office job, the same colleagues, a house and a cat. One of those people feels satisfied, happy and fulfilled, while the other feels unhappy, sad and lonely. For a long time I've wondered what the big difference between them is!"
"Maybe other things besides work, home and the cat?" suggested Maria.
"Sure! But above all, their state of mind. When we feel grateful for what we have, for our lives, we are happy, light, we shine like a star. If we complain, seeing the glass as half empty rather than half full," she said, looking at their glasses half full of water, "... even if we have the same things, we won't be able to appreciate them, and consequently we won't be as happy."
"Are you saying that it is as simple as feeling grateful for our lives, and then we are happy?" asked Maria, uncertain.
"Yes! Gratitude is the best recipe. Whenever I feel down, or I'm angry, I think to myself 'what's wrong, Luna?' and I realize that, inside, I'm complaining about something. There is nothing worse than complaint to make you feel like 'shit', if you excuse my French!"
Maria laughed, surprised. Luna didn't swear, her Italian was very correct, and then she came out with a phrase like that! They noticed that the waiter was laughing too, even though he hadn't understood a word; he hadn't taken his eyes off them, casting glances full of love, torn between one and the other.
"What do you usually complain about?" Maria asked, going back to looking at Luna.
"Oh, anything! Ted not getting up, the sun that's too hot, the bus that doesn't arrive, the bed that's too hard, lack of money, Harry who doesn't make up his mind to kiss me, and so on and so forth!"
"But these are real things! It's natural to complain about them," Maria pointed out.
"Yes and no. The fact is that it doesn't do me any good to complain, it drags me down even more," replied Luna.
"So, what do you do? Do you decide to be happy even if you're not?" asked Maria, drinking a sip of fresh water.
"More or less! When I realize that I'm complaining, I just accept that things are the way they are and, from there, I start to change my state of mind. I think: 'That's the way it is. Period! Now what do I do? Do I continue to be dissatisfied? No, thanks, I'm already tired of feeling like this.' That's when gratitude comes into play; I think of my list of gratitude, maybe I read it, and everything changes!"
"What list of gratitude?" Maria asked, intrigued.
"It's a list that I made a while ago, I have it here, look," Luna said, looking in her passport bag. She pulled out a piece of paper folded in four, opened it and began to read:
"I am grateful for:
One: being alive;
two: being healthy;
three: living in a country that enjoys peace;
four: being smart;
five: being educated;
six: Having a family that loves me and supports me;
seven: having a healthy mother and father;
eight: having friends;
nine: knowing and practicing Buddhism;
ten: the sun rising every morning;
eleven: the moon and the stars;
twelve: the universe with its balance;
thirteen: pasta with pesto, I love it;
fourteen: tiramisu, it's my favourite dessert;
fifteen: the snow;
sixteen: the sea;
seventeen: my cat, and so on. I have fifty points written down and I don't want to bore you, but you get an idea, don't you?"
"Whaw!" exclaimed Maria, "from the smallest things to things as vast as the universe. While I was listening I realized the effect of gratitude."
"Absolutely! Look, I felt good when I wrote the list, and every now and then I add things to it as they come to me. Then, every time I re-read it, it brings back this feeling of gratitude, and all complaints vanish," Luna said, folding her piece of paper and putting it back into her passport bag.
With the perfumes in their bags, happy with their dialogue and their friendship, they said goodbye to the love-struck waiter and took a rickshaw back to the Tourist Camp, making the most of those last moments together, on their own. For Maria this was perhaps the last time she would go through those parts of the capital before leaving India and everything she saw was coloured by the love she felt for this country and its people, as well as for the wonderful friends she had met; of all of them Luna was perhaps the most precious, showing her the clearest example with her life and helping her grow the most.
While the rickshaw man pedalled rhythmically with his skinny muscular legs, Maria looked around, saying goodbye in her heart to the people who lived by the side of the road; to the women who carried water in old tin containers balanced on their heads; to the men who mended scooters and bicycles with improvised tools; to the children running behind the bicycle wheels; to the little girls with their tidy braids helping their mothers; to the cows that hung lazily around in the afternoon traffic and to the noisy scooters, the proud Harley Davidson, the carts pulled by oxen, the chai-shops along the road.
They arrived at the Tourist Camp in silence, tired but satisfied.
They met up again to have dinner with Ted and Harry, who were delighted with the day they had spent together in Old Delhi. They talked about departures. The three of them were leaving the next day for Srinagar in Kashmir. Maria still had one more day in Delhi before leaving for Italy. After dinner, they chanted together for the last time and Maria thought about gratitude. During that 'daimoku' session, which lasted only ten minutes, her heart overflowed with the appreciation she felt for her life and for those two and a half incredible months that had transformed her so completely. She noticed that something had changed in Harry's attitude, too.
He seemed more confident and, instead of sitting further back, as he had done in the morning, he was sitting next to Luna, chanting with power and determination. At the end of the 'daimoku' Maria said she wanted to talk to Ted and went out looking for him, thus giving the two of them the opportunity to be alone. She saw them go out of the Tourist Camp, walking close to each other, talking. Ted was at the restaurant, having a beer with Siggi, and Maria joined them. Not far from them, Gianluca pulled out his flute and soon a small crowd gathered around him. Someone made a joint; someone else passed around a box of biscuits; there was a German boy with a king cobra as a pet which he kept inside a basket. The evening went by in an atmosphere of magic. Maria wanted to say goodbye to Luna and Harry, who would be leaving early in the morning, but she didn't dare disturb them. Ted told her it was better to leave them alone, something was going on; they both sensed it.
Around midnight, reluctantly, she said goodbye to everybody and went to her dormitory, accepting that she wouldn't be able to say her final farewell to Luna and Harry. To her great surprise, Ted arrived a few minutes later, asking if there was a spare bed. Yes, there was. She looked at him quizzically. "Are they back?" she asked.
"Yes!" replied Ted. "They need to be alone. At last!"
She felt a smile rise from her heart, slowly reaching her face: "Yes, finally!"
Ted lay down on the bed next to Maria's; he had nothing to cover himself with, all his belongings were in the room he shared with his friends.
"Do you need a sarong? To put over you."
"That would be lovely, thank you. It's hot but a sarong is always useful!"
Maria took one of the new sarongs out of her backpack, gave it to Ted and went back to bed. He partly covered himself with it and reached out to Maria; she held his hand in hers and so, from one bed to another, hand in hand, they shared the joy of knowing that 'those two' were finally together. If all went as hoped, the dam holding back the feelings they felt for each other would be broken and they could be happy together.
"They are made for each other," said Maria.
"They're perfect together," Ted agreed.
She closed her eyes and fell asleep with a smile on her lips and Ted's warm hand holding hers.
She felt a kiss on her lips. It was Ted, ready to go. "Luna will be here in a moment," he said.
With difficulty she opened her eyes, it wasn't yet five o'clock in the morning and the day was just beginning to dawn. "See you soon I hope," he said.
"Good luck, Ted. I'll see you at the cinema!"
"Come to London and we'll see each other for real," he replied.
Luna walked into the dorm, ready to leave, wearing a white t-shirt and Indian-style pyjama trousers. She sat on her bed and Maria saw the light she was hoping to see. "Everything all right?" she asked.
"More than all right, perfect," Luna replied, her face relaxed, her eyes full of love.
"I'm happy for you," Maria said, squeezing her hand.
"Thank you, we are happy too! Thanks for everything Maria. You are a precious friend."
"When will we see each other again? I know it's the heart that counts, but so does seeing each other, to celebrate your new beginning."
"We'll definitely meet up, let's keep in touch!" She gave her a piece of paper on which she had written her address. "Write to me, and we'll work something out. And let me know what happens with your life, and with the Frenchman!"
"You can count on that! Thank you for everything! Thanks for the Nam-myoho-renge-kyo."
"Thank you! Continue to use it to become happy."
Harry came in, relaxed, bubbling with joy as she had never seen him before. He sat on her bed and lowered himself to kiss her: "Thank you Maria, you have been instrumental!"
"Who? Me?"
"Yes, you. You gave me the push I needed. After what you told me, I asked myself if I was stupid or crazy to wait, or delay. Thank you!"
"The pleasure is all mine. You both deserve to be happy. Don't lose her!"
"Now she's mine, I caught her," said Harry, laughing and looking at Luna who was smiling. "If she tries to run away I'll scoop her up and carry her home!"
They laughed, delighted, and then the little procession of friends, who had whispered their happiness by her bed, walked out of the dormitory. Maria closed her eyes; a happy smile flooded her face and filled her heart. One day she would feel as happy, too, she was confident. She obliged herself to stay in bed, it was her last day and she didn't know how to spend it. She turned and tossed, and finally, with the sarong she had lent to Ted over her eyes, she fell asleep.
We will publish chapter 25 on Friday 25h May. See you then ;-)
If you want to buy the hard copy or the kindle version of Made in Nirvana, please go to ´link to buy´on the top menu for the correct link for your country.
