Chapter One

_{Rheumatic Fever - 1969}

At the tender age of 9, I was blessed with a serious bout of rheumatic fever. This is a medical condition that damages the inner workings of the heart, especially the heart valves, and renders them susceptible to infection. I remember enduring intense fevers and awfully scary and vivid hallucinations. Once a common affliction in New Zealand, rheumatic fever often kills kids - but by God's Grace and penicillin, I survived and rheumatic fever is virtually eradicated now.

The upside is that you get more jelly and ice-cream than you would normally be allowed at home because you end up in hospital. I spent some three months in the children's hospital and had, I was told, a serious brush with death. Exploiting the compassionate nature of the nursing staff and my parents, I hit the jelly and ice-cream trail big-time - which increased my girth considerably. I had, and to this day still have, a huge soft spot for the sweet things of life. The other culinary delight that I remember getting addicted to in hospital was tomato sauce. Go figure!

Heaven knows how many times God's Love and Compassion secretly and sacredly protects us from total disaster during the various events of our lives. Some 15 years after my childhood illness, Sri Chinmoy rescued me from the ordinary and unaspiring life that I had been leading and opened my eyes to new possibilities and a brighter future. Looking back, the experiences and opportunities that I have had as a student of this great spiritual Master make a survival like mine very significant. I often pray that I can learn to be more grateful as I get older - and become a better and more sincere seeker.

_{Cowboys and Indians}

My father had a penchant for watching cowboy movies on the television. One Saturday evening, my parents were watching one of these rollicking westerns while across the hall in my bedroom, I was experiencing a high fever and an accompanying nightmare. The two realities morphed into one and I found myself tied to a chair at the top of the world. Every single cowboy and every single Indian in the whole wide world were charging toward each other in what was to be a final epic battle to the death - the noise was terrible.

Unfortunately, the spot where they were about to clash happened to be right where I was sitting tied to the chair - which in turn was attached to a large pole. I remember thinking at the time that it must have been the North Pole because I was definitely sitting at the top of the world. Fortunately, my mother came to my rescue just in the nick of time. Mothers always have such great timing! Apparently I had been screaming much louder than the din of the television and my gallant mother galloped into my room on her horse 'Grave-Concern' - to extricate me from all danger. The cowboys and the Indians 'high-tailed it' to some other location that was presumably uncluttered by small boys, mothers, chairs and poles. I was carted off to hospital for 3 months. Some 10 years later I caught up with the cowboys, but that’s another story.

_{The Penicillin Blues}

As I said, rheumatic fever often kills kids. In these modern times, antibiotics are taken orally or by intravenous methods. In 1969 penicillin was a thick white fluid that was injected into muscle tissue; in this case muscle tissue that belonged to me, and was none too thrilled by the procedure, I must say. The target was the posterior and it hurt like mad! Of course, being a boy, and very much taken with that hallowed mantra: "Gosh, what a brave young man!", I made as little fuss as possible during the daily ritual of abject anguish. Kept on total bed rest for some weeks and in a weakened state from the ongoing fevers, I had to learn to walk again when the worst was over. My poor legs were like rubber.

My friend Jogyata had a similar experience when he was young. He contracted osteomyelitis; another killer infection that attacks the bone marrow and is also cured with penicillin injections. Jogyata’s doctor would visit him daily to offer the dreaded 'cure' and would always begin the proceedings by posing the question, "How’s your bum chum?" Now that’s class! This went on for several months, so it is no wonder that Jogyata’s mother would always let him eat his dessert before the main course - a culinary phenomenon that Jogyata has been bragging about for years and still adheres to. Only now he does not bother with the main anymore.

_Visitors

Mum and Dad would visit me every day, and all day on the weekends. I remember playing board and card games, colouring in drawings and doing jigsaw puzzles with my parents. My Mum would always encourage the other kids to join us. She was a great one for oneness - she liked bringing people together and was very self-giving. When I was able to walk and move around again, I would go to a certain window to watch them drive away from the hospital each night. Dad would flash the brake lights of our old car as a "see you tomorrow" signal. Knowing that they were heading home to our warm little abode in the suburbs would always make me a little sad. Sometimes I have occasion to walk along the little alley at the back of the hospital where my Dad would flash the car lights and I remember those moments most vividly.

I had an Uncle who was a rather colourful character - he was a member of an infamous motorcycle club. Uncle Ross would come and visit me every now and then and taught me to play the card game of poker. I enjoyed the game in an innocent way and liked his company. He would read my favourite Biggles adventure books aloud to me and in my estimation had reached the lofty standard of 'thoroughly cool Uncle'. Like many of his associates, he became a guest of Her Majesty's Prisons in the 1970s. When released, he seemed to turn over a new leaf and is now a nurse. I read some passages from one of Sri Chinmoy's books at my mother's funeral in April of 2000 and Uncle Ross asked me for a copy of the book. Inspiration is a flood that flows everywhere!

Another visitor that came to see me once was our local Presbyterian Church minister. He was a larger than life kind of character and worked at the local dockyards to earn his keep - which I thought was a strange vocation for a minister. He was a big bear of a man and always dressed in black and with the customary white collar. At church on Sunday's he wore a huge flowing black robe that made him look twice as big when he was up in the pulpit. When he came to visit me, I spontaneously decided to keep him busy, lest he should start with the preaching. He was rather 'fire and brimstone' in his approach to life and downright scary at times. I was always glad to leave his church services on Sundays. So I asked if it would suit him to play a little poker with me. "But I don’t know how to play," says he. "It is so easy," says I. "Let me teach you." To his credit he sat through several rounds of the tedious game, during which I soundly and proudly thrashed the big guy. My mother told me that during the next Sunday morning church service, the Reverend gentleman had announced my recovery and also stated that he had been lured into perdition by a 9 year old boy with a full deck of cards and forthwith, had serious doubts about his suitability to the role of being "a man of the cloth". Mum told me that the congregation had been in fits - I wish I had been there. At least he had a secure daytime job at the wharfs to fall back upon!

I had a primary school teacher who was a huge energetic Dutch woman with a heart of gold and a crushing hug. For some reason that I have never been able to figure out, she had a real soft spot for me. As Sri Chinmoy often says of affectionate people, "I basked in the sunshine of her affection." She would regularly visit me in hospital bringing highly prized Walt Disney comics and drawings from the other kids at school. When I finally returned to normal life and school, she was very kind and protective toward me. People like this make the world a happier place and I will never forget her kindness.

_{Unimaginable Wealth}

My parents would leave me some coins so that I could phone home whenever I felt the urge. In those days a call cost only two cents from a public phone. When you are nine, two cents is a fortune. You could buy a generous bag of lollies for two cents back in 1969. One day I was feeling low and decided to call Mum from the phone in the corridor. I put a coin into the phone slot and dialed. My efforts were met with an engaged signal, so I replaced the receiver. Suddenly, coins began to pour from the refund slot of the pay-phone and onto the floor. I could not believe it! Unimaginable wealth tumbling noisily at my feet - such music! I surreptitiously gathered my new-found wealth and slunk back to my quarters to bury the booty. Forgetting the need to phone home, the world (and the hospital canteen) was now my oyster. The gods had smiled on me and my fortunes had changed - I probably had a whole dollar!

_{The Final Penance}

And so came the day of my discharge. The doctor stated that I would need to have one last 'booster injection' of the now dreaded penicillin. The morning before I was due to leave, my nurse asked me to stay in my room as she was about to prepare the famous booster shot for me. I secretly followed her to check out the situation and nearly died on the spot when I saw what she was preparing. It was like a syringe you would use on a horse! No longer a brave young man, I scampered back to my room, shoved two pillows under the blankets of my bed and hastily wrote a note which said, "Hibernating - please do not disturb." Placing the note on top of the bed, I fled to the protection of my trusty wardrobe. Whilst in hospital, I had read a book about bears and knew that if you had any common sense, you never disturbed a hibernating bear - surely this ploy would work for me! Funny the things you do when you are desperate and nine.

The nurse duly arrived with the implements of destruction and I could hear her tut-tutting to herself. She quietly said, "I wonder where that brave little boy has gone?" and left the room. Now I was in a real dilemma. Stay in the wardrobe and be branded a coward or come out and bravely face the music? Inner war was waged and I eventually dragged myself out from the safety of my fortress and crawled into bed to await my fate. The doctor arrived and did the needful. That injection cost me a bucketful of tears and the rest of the day crippled in bed - but it insured my release the following day. A painful ticket home!

Happy to be home at last, the bravado seemed worthwhile. My mother told me that I had very nearly died one night whilst in hospital. I took great delight in telling everyone this 'Mum said' fact for about 3 months - until my celebrity wore off. We are so resilient when we are young and soon the whole experience began to slip from my memory. There was a life to be lived! Having to make regular visits to my well-meaning but droll family doctor was a drag though. He often reminded my mother and I that, "I would have trouble later on in life and should be careful." His words were prophetic in a sense, but failed to take into account my dynamic nature and an 'Unseen Hand' at work.

As a point of inspiration, I have never felt my heart problems to be a disability in my life. Qualities such as enthusiasm and a positive attitude will always overule and outlast human limitation. Being Sri Chinmoy's student has taught me that it is the Light, Love and Compassion of the Divine that creates, sustains and transforms all life. Our limited human perceptions and capacities will be transformed if we aspire and strive to go beyond them and learn to become reliant only on God the Supreme. As Sri Aurobindo states, "All can be done if the God-touch is there." This is where meditation plays a very important role. Meditation stills the mind, opens the heart and gives light to new and encouraging possibilities. Prayer and meditation afford us the capacity to speak with and listen to the Divine. At this point, we begin to glimpse a limitless reality - which is nothing other than our inate spirituality yearning to be claimed and realised.

When I am in the mind-hospital,
I am forced to encounter
The useless debris
Of my collapsed heart-building.

- Sri Chinmoy.

by Shardul - a memeber of the Sri Chinmoy Centre of New Zealand.