A man has fruit he must pick, then ship to and sell in Bombay. He's Indian, also a…

A man has fruit he must pick, then ship to and sell in Bombay. He's Indian, also a devotee of a guru in a small Himalayan town.

The guru is a wanderer mostly, but in recent years has spent time at ashrams that have been slowly built around Hanuman murtis he helped consecrate in the Kumoan hills.

The man is staying with this guru at the ashram and wanting to go home. The fruit must be picked, so it can be shipped to Bombay, where prices can be charged that local towns simply cannot afford to pay. The man is good at business and has been successful sending goods to Bombay for many years.

"Maharaji, I must go," he is saying, and repeatedly his guru is telling him "no, stay" and "not tonight".

"You must remain here, remain here," he says softly, lovingly, and yet without room for any wavering.

This guru can be terrifying when roused, can weild his authority in a way that sends a command deep into the bones if he wishes, but in this case he's simply insistent, sometimes sweetly, sometimess dismissively, always waving off the mounting concern or reassuring it.

The devotee squirms, increasingly agitated with the guru, increasingly having thoughts of frustration, helplessness, fear of economic loss, doubt of the wisdom and intelligence and care of the round and nearly toothless old guru. The guru is spending his day asking people "how is work, how is your family,

how is your money," and poking them over other wordly concerns. He is gossiping, joking, laughing, giggling, telling stories and holding court, holding folks in rapt attention, micro-managing the affairs of the ashram and its many attendants. Folks are arriving, bringing gifts, receiving blessings and having the gifts distrubted back to them. Folks are getting special attention, their cares and concerns being given great deference, great weight, being HANDLED. Meanwhile his concern over the fruit is left, if not ignored, then entirely unresolved, as though it couldn't much matter at all.

The days pass and it is finally too late to send the fruit to Bombay. The fruit is overripe. It will not survive the journey and can only be sent to local

markets. The seller will miss out on a very important opportunity. Finally, the guru tells him "ok you can go, jao". He rushes home to see the

state of the fruits. They are as he feared - overripe. He then loads the fruits and prepares to offload them in nearby towns, thinking of the money

he will lose.

There is much emotion about this, for this man, as you can imagine. Put yourself in his shoes. It's easy to believe magic stories of gurus and saints.

But mostly you find foolishness and advantage taking. Would you really, in this moment, have listened? Why? So you could end up with this loss? So you

can tell yourself "well at least I was obedient"?

Would you listen to this guru who has nothing to do with business, an old baba who has his opinions about everything, who tells people this and that,

seemingly contradicting himself from one person to the next sometimes.

If you are like this Indian man, there is so much internal sentiment and drama, and yet it is what it is now. You go to sleep.

Soon you learn of a calamity in the Bombay fruit markets. Associates and other folks are losing money on their goods, not even covering the cost of

shipping them in the first place.

Meanwhile you end up doing better than average in the local markets. You come out way ahead.

Why did the guru not simply TELL YOU this would happen? He must have known...you would have imputed a great deal of knowing to a being who advises

you in this way. He could have won so much authority from you by telling you.

What is happening here?

If the guru had just told the fruit seller, one of two things would happen:

The fruit seller would either listen, and be grateful,

or not listen, and regret it.

But what about all the drama?

Without the drama, where will the chance to learn to trust the love of another come from? What about learning how to make the connection between the heart energy of this guru and the guidance of one's own heart?

Where would he get the insight into his selfish concerns and the emotions that underlie them - without the drama?

Why is the drama so exquisite?