It didn't seem possible at first. I read the news of Raghubhai's passing late last night. I'd just gotten up from meditation, and the words I was reading on the screen made no sense. How could he be gone, just like that? Raghu whose flashing smile I can still see so clearly when I close my eyes. Raghu who made a playful game of sneaking up next to us to touch our feet, before darting away, so quick and graceful on his hands, his incapacitated legs folded neatly beneath him. Raghu who could sing to God with a voice strong-winged as a bird, Raghu who found wholeness in broken places and learned to serve with a love that defied physical limitations. In the brief time I spent with him, he made me want to be a better human being. And now, though I didn't know him nearly as well as many others did, like all his brothers and sisters in service I feel a gaping Raghu-shaped hole in the universe.
After reading the news I sat down in tears, on the cushion I'd just risen from. And as I began to meditate a small voice inside said quietly, "He knew he was here to love and serve. He loved. He served. He lived a full life. Who are you crying for?" And I realized that I was crying for me and all the many of us who simply wish we'd had more time in a world that had him in it. And in that moment there was no grief only a wordless sense of awe and gratitude for the life he'd lived.
One of my favorite memories of Raghu is from several years ago. And it has nothing to do with his countless acts of compassion or his heroic generosity. It was a moment that gave me a glimpse of his whimsical side and his sense for the poetic. We were a big group meditating at Sughad, sitting together under the night sky. At the end of the hour we opened our eyes and went around in a circle sharing reflections. When it was his turn Raghu spoke in Gujarati and his voice was full of laughter. He said before closing his eyes he'd looked up at the sky and seen the crescent moon with a single star below it. "And all through the meditation I was thinking how perfect it would be if the star had been positioned just a little higher. Then at the end when I opened my eyes there it was right where I'd wanted it." We all looked up then, at the beautiful sight of a bright single star cradled in the silver curve of the moon. "I really need to learn how to focus better when I'm meditating," Raghu said smiling sheepishly. And I remember thinking then that he must have the soul of an artist or a poet. Because who else imagines rearranging the stars like that? There are other memories of course. Of sitting down to a meal with him and hearing from someone else how that very morning he'd stopped a woman from committing suicide simply by stopping and listening to her tell her story and giving her a cup of chai. There's the memory of weaving through the slums riding triples with my sister on his scooter laden with gleaming tiffin-boxes. The way I remember it, it was like riding with royalty. Children and puppies and grandmothers and schoolteachers and shopkeepers in tumbledown shacks all seemed to know him -- they came running out of their homes, lifted their hands in greeting, or shouted out his name like he was one of their own. And he was. I remember marveling at how well he knew the lives he served. How he stopped to touch the feet of one, and to check on the health of another, how he delighted the kids and how he never just dropped off food at someone's doorstep, but always went inside and sat down as if this one person was the only person on earth that he needed to be with.
He had such humor and dignity. I think of his straight-backed poise, and his way of looking directly at people when he talked to them. I think of his ready smile and the nobility of his heart. Noble. The word fits him well. He was truly a Noble Friend to all of us who knew him. He was one of those rare people who truly understood that in helping others we help ourselves, and in healing others it is we who heal.
He was such a luminous star in our lives. And I can't help thinking that now maybe he's just changed his position a little -- to find that perfect place in the sky.
1 REPLY
rubyMar 7, 2014
does it really matter, the concept is: don't stay down...
ORIGINAL COMMENT
It didn't seem possible at first. I read the news of Raghubhai's passing late last night. I'd just gotten up from meditation, and the words I was reading on the screen made no sense. How could he be gone, just like that? Raghu whose flashing smile I can still see so clearly when I close my eyes. Raghu who made a playful game of sneaking up next to us to touch our feet, before darting away, so quick and graceful on his hands, his incapacitated legs folded neatly beneath him. Raghu who could sing to God with a voice strong-winged as a bird, Raghu who found wholeness in broken places and learned to serve with a love that defied physical limitations. In the brief time I spent with him, he made me want to be a better human being. And now, though I didn't know him nearly as well as many others did, like all his brothers and sisters in service I feel a gaping Raghu-shaped hole in the universe.
After reading the news I sat down in tears, on the cushion I'd just risen from. And as I began to meditate a small voice inside said quietly, "He knew he was here to love and serve. He loved. He served. He lived a full life. Who are you crying for?" And I realized that I was crying for me and all the many of us who simply wish we'd had more time in a world that had him in it. And in that moment there was no grief only a wordless sense of awe and gratitude for the life he'd lived.
One of my favorite memories of Raghu is from several years ago. And it has nothing to do with his countless acts of compassion or his heroic generosity. It was a moment that gave me a glimpse of his whimsical side and his sense for the poetic. We were a big group meditating at Sughad, sitting together under the night sky. At the end of the hour we opened our eyes and went around in a circle sharing reflections. When it was his turn Raghu spoke in Gujarati and his voice was full of laughter. He said before closing his eyes he'd looked up at the sky and seen the crescent moon with a single star below it. "And all through the meditation I was thinking how perfect it would be if the star had been positioned just a little higher. Then at the end when I opened my eyes there it was right where I'd wanted it." We all looked up then, at the beautiful sight of a bright single star cradled in the silver curve of the moon. "I really need to learn how to focus better when I'm meditating," Raghu said smiling sheepishly. And I remember thinking then that he must have the soul of an artist or a poet. Because who else imagines rearranging the stars like that? There are other memories of course. Of sitting down to a meal with him and hearing from someone else how that very morning he'd stopped a woman from committing suicide simply by stopping and listening to her tell her story and giving her a cup of chai. There's the memory of weaving through the slums riding triples with my sister on his scooter laden with gleaming tiffin-boxes. The way I remember it, it was like riding with royalty. Children and puppies and grandmothers and schoolteachers and shopkeepers in tumbledown shacks all seemed to know him -- they came running out of their homes, lifted their hands in greeting, or shouted out his name like he was one of their own. And he was. I remember marveling at how well he knew the lives he served. How he stopped to touch the feet of one, and to check on the health of another, how he delighted the kids and how he never just dropped off food at someone's doorstep, but always went inside and sat down as if this one person was the only person on earth that he needed to be with.
He had such humor and dignity. I think of his straight-backed poise, and his way of looking directly at people when he talked to them. I think of his ready smile and the nobility of his heart. Noble. The word fits him well. He was truly a Noble Friend to all of us who knew him. He was one of those rare people who truly understood that in helping others we help ourselves, and in healing others it is we who heal.
He was such a luminous star in our lives. And I can't help thinking that now maybe he's just changed his position a little -- to find that perfect place in the sky.
1 REPLY
does it really matter, the concept is: don't stay down...