There is none. ‘Nayantam na madhyam na punastavadim, pashyami Vishweshwara Vishwarupam’—what was the use of seeing this? I ask in anguish, if there is a God, then tell me, what did I gain from it? But I already know the answer—there is no accounting for profit and loss here. So many events occur in life that have no practical purpose, yet it is with these unreal, seemingly meaningless events that the world of humans is built—not that of beasts. At least in these past eight months, I have come to understand this much—I am not a beast, I am human, and I have the right to behold the cosmic form.

Mahakala cradles me in his arms and dances, his loosened matted hair enveloping my eyes, my face, my whole body. What has become of my past and future, east and west, far and near—I do not know. My prison has shattered, shame, fear, the bonds of family and kin have all fallen away. Only love—timeless love—like the steadfast pole star in the radiant blue sky, is guiding my way. It will carry me across the vast ocean.

Upon reaching the airport, I felt the urge to bow to my husband. The gentle breeze of his love surrounds me, soothing my body and soul. But I cannot bow here—he would be embarrassed. So I said softly, “All my life, you have given me so much freedom.” He smiled a little, “Does your freedom reside in my pocket, that I can take it out and hand it to you from time to time? Your freedom is your own.”

## Na Hanyate: Part Four

On the grand city’s avenue, I said to my newly acquainted companion, John, “When we reach Woodland Road, let me know.” I had obtained his address with much difficulty—back in my own country, I had collected his address and telephone number. It was hardly necessary to go through so much trouble, but back home, the act of obtaining it had become a ritual. I want the correct address—how long have I wandered with only vague directions?

The car moved on—new country, new city, unfamiliar faces passing by, yet I was headed toward a goal that was deeply familiar. My mind was dazed. I felt as though I were in a dream. This body of mine, this life I have lived for so long, and the ‘me’ who now sits here with the address in hand—there is a great distance between them. It is difficult to unite these two. It is hard to remember—who am I?

John said, “We are entering Woodland now.”

On either side—are there rows of sprawling forests, or city houses? I do not know. I see large houses with little gardens, and then again, I see shaded roads covered by tall trees—Woodland. Which is real? Who knows? One scene inside, another outside! The inner one is more real, for it is the mind that sees, the mind that is the true spectator. The world I now