Even more water flowed under the bridge of my life. A decade or so later, without really meaning to—after all, woman proposes and Great Spirit disposes—I found myself in Tiruvannamalai, a famous temple town in south India. Despite a never-ending series of trials and tribulations, I decided this would be the home I’d been looking for—for the simple reason that I felt strongly that it was here that I could pursue my “Moksha Project”. (“Moksha” means liberation—defined by Ramana Maharshi as “permanent freedom from desire and fear”—and, in my opinion, the highest goal to which a human on the inner path can aspire.)
My new home was being built and I was looking forward to the prospect of cultivating a garden and adopting animals. So when my Latvian friend offered me two gorgeous pups of Himalayan origin, I leaped with joy.
The pups—whom I named Kali and Durga after my favorite Indian goddesses—won me over instantly. Tragically Durga was attacked by a deadly virus when she was a few months old and dissolved back into the elements; which left Kali, whom I almost lost as well. As I nursed my adorable jet-black fur-ball back to health, I processed the aching grief and guilt I felt over Durga’s passing. Continue reading
mira prabhu 