Ashwin Sanghi - The Rozabal Line

Since the passing of his parents, Vincent had made it a point to visit Aunt Martha each week. He looked forward to these visits because she was a lot of fun. Moreover, she was the only real family he had left.

Aunt and nephew were sitting with legs crossed facing one another. The classic yogic position called Padmasan was not as easy as Nana had made it out to be. The right foot had to be under the left knee, and the left foot was to be kept under the right knee. Easier said than done!

‘Breathing is life. But how much do we notice it? For example, do you observe or notice that you use only one nostril at a time to breathe?’ said Martha to her student. Vincent was sceptical.

Martha quickly continued, ‘At any given moment, only the right or left nostril will be breathing for you. Did you know that the active nostril changes approximately every ninety minutes during the twenty-four-hour day? It’s only for a short period that both nostrils breathe together. The ancient Indian yogis knew all this and much more. They discovered and explored the intimate relationship between one’s breath and one’s mind. They knew that when the mind is agitated, breathing almost certainly gets disturbed. They also knew that if one’s breath were held too long, the mind would have a tendency to get disturbed. Since the yogis were fundamentally attempting to control the mind, they figured that controlling the breath could possibly regulate the mind,’ she concluded.

She had succeeded in holding his interest. Slowly but surely, Vincent Sinclair began to learn how to breathe and relax.

Not for long.

Central Park covers 843 acres or around 6 per cent of Manhattan. The park stretches from 59th Street in the south, to 110th Street at the northern end, and from 5th Avenue on the east side, to 8th Avenue on the west.

As a child, Vincent had loved visiting the Central Park Zoo. In later adult years, he had enjoyed attending performances at the park’s Delacorte Theatre and indulging in the occasional culinary treat at the park’s most famous restaurant, Tavern on the Green.

Martha’s regimen of yoga and meditation was working wonders for him and he was feeling energetic as he headed for a quiet spot in the park’s Reservoir. The Reservoir, located in the heart of Central Park, was quite a distance away from any of the bordering streets and was one of the most tranquil areas within the park. It was here that Vincent found a bench to try out the Vipassana techniques that Martha had been teaching him for the past few months. [22]

In Pali, the original language of Buddhism, Vipassana meant ‘insight’. It was also more commonly used to describe one of India’s most ancient meditation techniques, which had been rediscovered by the Buddha.

Vincent sat down on the bench and then drew up his legs so that he could assume the Padmasan position that Nana had taught him. He then closed his eyes and began to focus on his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. As he settled into a relaxed state of mind there was a familiar flash! The same damn flash from the funeral six years ago!

Damn! Vincent thought. I thought that the craziness was over and done with!

Blood. Flash! Wounded soldiers … bandages. Flash! A blood-red cross with equal arms. Flash! A Bassano portrait … an elegant lady. Flash! A stately house … reception rooms on the ground and first floors. Flash! Number 18. Flash! London streets. Flash! Iron fencing … an ‘S’ logo. Flash! Indian antiques. Flash! Parties, food, musicians, soldiers. Flash! An old LaSalle ambulance. Flash! Buckingham Palace. Flash! Bell … Grave … so soon?

What was that? Vincent opened his eyes in mortal fear. Why was this happening to him? Bell … Grave … so soon? What in heaven’s name did that mean? Was he to die? Was this a premonition? And why was he seeing images of London streets and stately homes? Vincent Sinclair was convinced more than ever that he was going mad.

He got up and started running wildly. Luckily he was on the periphery of the reservoir of Central Park, which was mainly used by joggers.

No one found it odd to see him running. They thought he was running to exercise himself. How could they possibly know that he was running from himself?

‘Help me, Nana. I’m going stark, raving mad. Either that, or I’m possessed. Do you think I should call Father Thomas Manning for an exorcism? What is wrong with me? Why am I seeing strange things and hearing strange words?’ Vincent was on the verge of hysteria.

Nana realised she needed to calm him down. ‘Relax, sweetheart. It isn’t uncommon to have recollections of events, things, people or places that are hidden in our brains. In fact, it isn’t strange to remember past lives either. Unfortunately, you’re a Catholic priest… how on earth can I possibly discuss past life issues with you when you have closed your mind to such possibilities?’

Vincent’s eyes widened. ‘You think I could be having past-life recollections? But surely that’s nonsense, Nana. The Bible says it is appointed unto men to die once, and after death comes judgement.’

‘Listen, Vincent, I know I will always be the eccentric, esoteric, Eastern philosophy-espousing crazy aunt to you, but isn’t it possible that what you have learnt so far is not the whole truth? Isn’t it possible that there are things that you are yet to learn?’ asked Martha rather innocently.

‘Sure, Nana, but I can’t question my faith. My faith is all that I have.’

Martha said, ‘Okay. Let me try to help you see things my way. We all know the bit from the Bible about the blind man… you know, the bit when Jesus’s disciples asked him: “Rabbi, who has sinned, this man or his parents, that he should be born blind?” Tell me, Vincent, why would the disciples have asked this question if there was no belief in a past life? Huh?’

Vincent remained silent in thought.

Martha continued, ‘You probably remember the passage where Jesus says: “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.” Tell me, sweetheart, how is it possible to be born again unless you have more than one life?’

Vincent was ready with arguments of his own.

‘Nana, the fact that the disciples asked Jesus about the reasons for the blind man’s condition only means that reincar-nation as a concept was alive in his era. It does not mean that Jesus believed in it. Also, when Jesus talked about being born again he was referring to spiritual awakening, not birth in the literal sense.’ [23]

Martha was just as determined to have her way. She countered defiantly, ‘So what else do you think can explain your strange visions and flashes?’

Vincent was quiet. He really didn’t have a logical answer.

‘May I suggest something? Sometimes, a past-life memory can be triggered by a place or an object. Is there something that you can recall from your recent flashes?’

‘The only thing I can recall seeing in today’s visions is Buckingham Palace. I’ve never been there… but I’ve seen it on postcards. Let me think… what else? At Mom and Dad’s funeral, I remember seeing flashes of Jerusalem-at least I think it was Jerusalem. The rest of the stuff that I saw can’t really be pinned down to a definite place.’

Martha quickly cut in. ‘I think it’s time you and your aunt had a vacation in London. What do you say, Vincent?’ She winked at him, a wide grin on her face.

‘I thought I was the crazy one! Are you out of your mind, Nana? I don’t believe in this past life nonsense. In any case, I can’t afford it; I’m a priest, remember? We don’t really earn all that much!’