The Alchemist

The Alchemist - Paul Coelho

Mary, with the baby Jesus in her arms, decided to come down to Earth and visit a monastery. The monks proudly joined in a long queue, and each of them came before the Virgin to render their homage. One declaimed beautiful poetry, another showed his illuminated paintings of biblical subjects, a third repeated the names of all the Saints. And so on, one monk after the other, praising Mary and the baby Jesus.

The last monk of all there, was the humblest in the whole monastery, who had never studied the learned books of the time. His parents were simple people, who worked in an old travelling circus, and all they had taught him was to throw balls into the air and juggle with them.

When it was his turn, the other members of the order wanted to bring the homage to a conclusion, since the old juggler would have nothing important to say, and might lower the image of the monastery. But in the bottom of his heart, he also felt a burning need to give something of himself to Jesus and Mary.

Ashamed, conscious of the disapproving looks of his brothers, he took a few oranges from his bag, and started to juggle them in the air, saying that juggling was all he knew how to do.

It was at the moment that the baby Jesus, sitting on Mary’s lap, smiled and started to clap his hands. And Mary reached out her arms, inviting him to hold the baby.

-ooOoo-

I have been asking myself why I felt the need to come to India and while here I have found the book ‘The Alchemist’ and in a way it has answered the puzzle. We all have special gifts to share (mine happens to be a huge mothering instinct and I have friends and family who have gifts of compassion or generosity or vision) and in giving the gift away it brings joy to others and a heartfelt joy to oneself.

So, back to the present, last night after work the farmer took us out to see a temple in the jungle. It was amazing, I felt I was in a set of the film ‘The Jungle Book’, vines hung down from the ancient trees and old forgotten monuments lay in the clearings. We came across a huge stone bathing place with a cold stream running through it with inscribed tablets round the edge. We washed our feet and hands then walked to a temple made for the God Shiva who destroys all that is evil; we had to get on all fours and crawl inside, a fire burnt in the hearth and offerings of wheat or money were placed in a mound in the centre. As we left, bands of young men covered in dry mud and wearing only a lunge walked through the jungle down to the temple beating drums to pay homage to Shiva.

Then the pace changed, we were driven to the local fair with stalls to purchase food and side shows with all types of attractions, it was as if I had been transported to the 1940’s. What I found amusing was the tombola stall and the ‘hook a fish’, relics of colonial days, more British than the British it seemed and all set against the towering snow capped Himalayas.

Back home Cas and I made three huge Banoffe Pies which we all enjoyed at supper-time. The new volunteers had felt a little insecure on their first day and as Anna and Genevieve tucked into the pie they relaxed and felt that they were part of the team. (There goes that mothering instinct again)!