The chant ended. Alan Jones, who was visiting the Ithaca center from the ashram in Birchwood Falls, had a special announcement. “Jai Gurudev!”
“Jai Gurudev!” everyone responded.
“I’m here to let you know the latest word from Ravipur is that Baba will be returning to Birchwood Falls at the end of March.”
Alan’s announcement was interrupted by a loud round of applause and more cheers of “Jai Gurudev!” My chest buzzed and I had difficulty sitting still. The guru would be here much sooner than expected.
“It will be the first time Baba has ever visited the East Coast in winter,” Alan continued, “and we want everyone to know about the many exciting seva opportunities coming up. There’s a lot of work to be done to prepare the ashram for Baba’s six-month stay in New York.”
This is a sign from Baba! I told myself. This is my chance! As soon as satsang was over I approached Alan and asked him if there would be staff positions opening up at the ashram to help with the advance work. “I’m available immediately.”
“What about college?” Alan asked.
“I’m dropping out. I don’t care about worldly knowledge anymore.”
Alan looked dubious. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be eighteen at the end of January.”
“Look, Doug, I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Alan said, pinching his earlobe. “But at the moment, the ashram’s only looking for volunteers who can pay their own way. In any case, you would need your legal guardian’s signature to stay at the ashram before your eighteenth birthday.”
Melanie would never let me go before January. And even if I found a minimum wage job, it would take months to save up enough money to live at the ashram for any length of time. Baba would be back in India by then. I prayed to the guru and asked him to help me understand what he was trying to tell me. Perhaps it was some kind of test of my devotion.
“Cramming for your Sanskrit final, I see,” Mike said, startling me. I was in the Uris Hall library, copying the text of the Guru Gita into a notebook.
“Quit hovering, McFadden. You’re making me nervous.”
“You’re not actually taking Sanskrit as a freshman in the Ag school, are you?” Mike pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. “Do they even allow that?”
“No, big guy. I’m studying it on my own.”
Mike smiled approvingly. “I’m impressed.”
“It’s easier than it looks.”
“Oh, I’m not impressed that you’re studying Sanskrit. I’m amazed that you’re confident enough to be indulging a pet interest like this right before finals.”
Feeling no need to explain myself, I resumed my task.
“My mom asked about you the other day,” Mike said. “Wanted to know why I haven’t invited you over lately, reached out to you, blah, blah, blah.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her it’s because you’re a major asshole.”
“Hardy har har.”
“But seriously, speaking of indulging pet interests, Eddie and Stuart are coming over tonight to play D&D. Are you in?”
“I don’t know. My grandmother and aunt are visiting from Florida, and they just got in this morning. I might have to eat dinner with them or something. Also, I should be studying for finals, as you just pointed out.”
“Everybody needs a break sometimes, Greenbaum. Come after dinner. Bring Grandma.”
I gave Mike a big sarcastic thumbs-up.
Mike inched closer to me to get a better look at what I was doing. “Your sudden interest in Sanskrit doesn’t have anything to do with that book you showed me a while back, does it? You know, the one your brother gave you?”
“It does.”
“Would you care to expand on that?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, whatever. I’ll leave you alone.” Mike got up to leave, but then leaned over my shoulder again. “Can you really read that shit?”
“Yep.”
“What does this say?” Mike asked, pointing to the line of script I had just
copied.
“One who speaks to the Guru in a rude or insulting manner or who wins arguments with Him is reborn as a demon in a jungle or in a waterless region.”
Mike backed up a couple of feet and raised a trembling hand to his mouth in a mock gesture of fear. “Whoa! That’s intense!”
I arrived home to the sound of my grandmother and aunt arguing. Lucy passed me in the front hall on her way to the stairs. “They’re back!” she said, rolling her eyes in the direction of the kitchen. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room hanging myself.”
“My misfortune is greater!” my aunt cried.
“No, I’m sorry, but my misfortune is greater!” my grandmother shouted back.
I found Melanie seated at the kitchen table with my grandmother and her sister. Melanie looked like she was going to throw up. I lingered in the doorway trying to decide whether to say hello or escape downstairs to the basement to be by myself.
“I lost my godly son, Harvey!”
“And I lost my only daughter! She was no saint, but she was all I had in this world!”
“I’m very sorry for your loss, but my misfortune is greater!”
“No, mine is greater!”
Just then, Melanie noticed me in the doorway. “Grandma, Aunt Gabby—look who’s here. It’s Doug!”
Grandma Millie’s face lit up. “Oh, hello, darling boy!”
I was always amazed at how quickly she could shift emotional gears. I waved at the two elderly women.
“Who is this handsome young man standing before me?” Aunt Gabby asked. “Have we been introduced?”
This was Aunt Gabby’s standard routine—pretending that she didn’t know me and Lucy, ostensibly because we had grown so much since the last time she had seen us. But this time I wasn’t certain she was joking.
“Hi Aunt Gabby, it’s me—Doug.”
“Douglas, my boy!” Aunt Gabby said, cupping both sides of her face with her hands and shaking her head back and forth in mock disbelief. “My how you’ve grown! Have a cookie.”
Every time Aunt Gabby came to visit, she brought some of her homemade butter cookies with her. I eyed the open tin. “Mmm! Maybe later.”
I would not have one of Aunt Gabby’s cookies later. They were a known health hazard. At the age of eighty-three, my aunt was half blind and totally confused. When baking, she almost always mixed up the salt and sugar. Sometimes her cookies were so burnt she presented them as “chocolate,” presumably to save face.
Grandma Millie rapped on the table to get my attention. “How’s college?”
Her question made me panic. “Um, it’s okay, Grandma,” I said, taking one of Aunt Gabby’s cookies. “I’m going to eat this in my room.”
Melanie followed me into the living room. “Dougie, wait.”
“What?”
Her shoulders drooped and her arms hung slack at her sides. “You dropped out?”
I felt the blood rush to my face. “Who told you?”
“Mike’s mom. She called a few minutes ago.”
McFadden!
“I just can’t understand why Cornell didn’t notify me?” Melanie said, her voice thick with defeat.
“Stop scolding the boy, Susan,” Grandma Millie said, coming into the room. “Hasn’t he been through enough?”
Melanie winced and covered her eyes with her hands. “Grandma, please.”
I let out a long, low sigh. I was out of bullshit excuses. “You weren’t notified because I never officially withdrew from my classes. I just stopped going.”
Melanie gasped. “Stopped going! The last day of classes was yesterday!”
Suddenly, we heard Aunt Gabby calling to us from the kitchen. “Who’s gambling again?”
“Shut up, Gabby!” my grandmother yelled. “This doesn’t concern you!”
Melanie’s jaw line hardened and she tapped her foot on the floor. “Actually, Grandma, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Doug privately.”
My grandmother stood up abruptly and scowled at my sister. “Of course, I understand!” Grandma’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. “I’ll just go back upstairs to my cell. I know when I’m not wanted.”
As she climbed the stairs, she continued to mutter to herself about how her opinion wasn’t valued. Aunt Gabby followed her.
Melanie propped a cheek on her fist and waited for Grandma to be out of hearing range before speaking again. “Doug, take your boots off and come sit with me.”
At first I resisted. Then I decided it was as good a time as any to tell Melanie my future plans. Putting as much space as possible between us, I took a seat at the far end of the room, in what used to be my mother’s favorite armchair.
“Okay, I get it,” Melanie said. “You can’t deal with college right now. That’s understandable.” Melanie’s tone softened. “But why on earth didn’t you talk to me about it?”
I felt my gut tighten. “I—”
“If you had officially withdrawn from your classes, we would have gotten most of the tuition money back. Now you’ll fail everything. Twelve thousand dollars down the toilet! Do you realize how much money that is? It’s Lucy’s money too, you know! What were you thinking?”
My head began to throb in pain: “How am I supposed to tell you anything?” I blurted out. “You never listen to me!”
Melanie’s jaw dropped. “I never listen to you?” she said, pointing to herself. “You never listen to a word I say! How many times have I asked you to take out the garbage or do the dishes, only to be ignored?”
As Melanie listed the myriad ways I had failed to obey, I tuned her out. My thoughts wandered to Baba’s ashram on the other side of the planet, where all that mattered was meditation and spiritual practice. In Ravipur I will be free.
On another level, I knew Melanie was right. I should have officially withdrawn from the classes. Now I would leave Cornell in disgrace, and the money was gone forever. She was also right that I didn’t care about Lucy. My only concern was that I might need that money someday to live in the ashram.
“What are you going to do now?” my sister demanded, lowering her chin to look down on me. “You can’t stay here. Oh no, sir. You’re going to have to find a job and get your own place. Mommy’s money can only be used to pay for college.”
I felt a pounding in my ears and I exploded: “If I can’t stay here, neither can you and Herb! This isn’t your house. If it belongs to anybody, it’s rightfully mine and Lucy’s! Get the hell out of here and go back to your fucking farm!”
Melanie opened her mouth to shout, but nothing came out. I had her! She couldn’t think of a good argument.
Just then, something caught my eye, glimmering on the floor under my mother’s stereo system.
“Doug, don’t you get it? The house is for sale. We’re all going to have to move out. You need to understand that actions have consequences.”
As Melanie continued to lecture me, I got up from my seat, walked over to the stereo, and dropped to the floor.
“Doug? Are you listening to me? Doug? What are you doing?”
I reached under the shelving unit and pulled out a pair of impossibly thick-lensed glasses.
Melanie’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh my God! Are those what I think they are?”
“I think so,” I answered, setting them down on the coffee table. When the paramedics had taken Harvey away, I had noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses.
“Whatever you do, don’t let Aunt Gabby or Grandma see them.”
I nodded and sat back down in my mother’s chair.
“Doug, would you mind telling me what your plans are?” Her tone was more conciliatory now.
I hesitated before answering, and then I looked my sister squarely in the eye. “I want to go to India and study meditation.”
“Meditation? In India?”
“That’s right. I want to eventually take the vows of a renunciant and become a swami.”
Melanie threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, terrific! And just how do you plan on funding this lifestyle?”
“Well, I thought the trust would pay for me to go to India because I would be engaged in a course of study.”
“Nice try, Doug. The trust is to help you and Lucy to go to college. So unless the ashram is an accredited school and can offer a bachelor’s degree, no dice.”
“But it’s my money!” I said, banging my fists down on the arms of my chair.
“I’m sorry, but my hands are tied. Even if I wanted to give it to you, Mommy set up the trust to prevent precisely this kind of thing from happening. The last thing she wanted you to do was to squander your money frivolously.”
“What the hell is frivolous about wanting to attain the highest goal of life, to attain God-realization and eternal bliss?”
“The answer is no. If you want to go to India, you’ll have to get a job and save up for it yourself.”
“You suck!” I shouted, springing to my feet. “You do not rule my life! I’m going to be eighteen next month, and your days of trying to control everything I do will be over. I serve only one master and his name is Swami Rudrananda Paramahansa!”
My hands were balled into tight fists. My chest felt like it was about to explode.
Melanie stood up, open-mouthed and trembling, holding her hands out toward me in a peace offering. “Dougie, calm down. I’m not—”
“I won’t calm down! I knew you wouldn’t understand! I hate you, you fucking bitch!”
Crying, I barreled up the stairs and almost knocked over my grandmother and aunt, who had been eavesdropping on my conversation with Melanie from the upstairs hallway.
“Douglas, wait!” my grandmother cried, clutching at her chest with one hand and reaching for me with the other. “I have something very important to tell you—”
Ignoring Grandma Millie, I stormed into my room and slammed the door behind me. To muffle the sounds of my grandmother’s voice and the sound of her pounding on my door, I dove into bed, buried my head under a pillow, and sobbed into my sheets.
After a long time, my tears finally subsided, my mind became still, and I was quiet. It was quiet in the house, too.
Baba loves me, I remembered. He will show me the way. I got up from my bed, wiped my tears, and blew my nose into a Kleenex. Then I went before the makeshift altar to Baba on top of my dresser and folded my hands. Gazing into Baba’s eyes in the photo, I prayed to him as he gazed lovingly back at me.
Oh Compassionate One, please hear my prayer. I only want to be with you, Rudrananda. I only want to serve you. Oh Lord, I long for awakening and your divine grace. Please, Baba—please help me find a way to be with you.”
Compassion poured out of Baba’s eyes and I was enveloped in his love. I knew with absolute certainty that wherever Baba was, whatever he was doing in that instant, he could hear my prayers and knew what was in my heart. I knew that somehow, some way, the guru would make it possible for me to be with him.
Just then, I heard the sound of something being slid under my door. I looked down at the floor and saw two envelopes. Picking them up, I looked to see who they were from. The first was from Cornell. I ripped open the letter, knowing exactly what it would say. It was a message from the dean’s office advising that I would not be matriculated next semester due to failing to sit for my exams. I tossed the letter back on the ground and looked at the second letter. It was from the Law Offices of Klepfish and Stein, and was addressed to Douglas R. Greenbaum. My insides quivered. I didn’t have the slightest idea why I would be getting a letter from a lawyer. For a second I thought maybe Cornell had discovered I didn’t really have a passion for fruit and was suing me for making false claims in my application essay.
I opened the envelope: the letter was from the executor of my cousin Harvey’s will, advising me that I was the sole beneficiary of his estate. Enclosed was a check for one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Payable to me.