CHAPTER 3: GANGA SADHANA§
Amrita’s Hard-Earned Lesson§
On the evening of Amrita’s thirteenth birthday, Mom brought out one last present, a big basket with a ribbon on it. Amrita took it from her and was surprised when the weight shifted inside. “Careful,” warned Mom, “This one is fragile. Open it slowly.”§
Amrita untied the huge bow and pulled back the wrappings to find the cutest puppy she had ever seen, a red and white spaniel with a white dot on her forehead. Her friends huddled around excitedly to have a closer look.§
Reaching down and picking up the dog, she hugged it close and exclaimed, “Bindi! You have a little bindi on your forehead.” The name stuck. Bindi was an instant hit with all of Amrita’s friends, and they took turns cuddling and playing. An hour later, tuckered out, the puppy fell asleep in Amrita’s lap. §
Dad showed Amrita the puppy bed and pen they had bought. “We’ll set these up in the garage for her first few weeks until she’s housebroken. After that, she can sleep in your room.”§
The next morning at breakfast Amrita beamed, “I didn’t think you would ever buy me a puppy. I still can’t believe it.”§
Mom smiled, “Oh, we thought about it a lot—it wasn’t just a whim. But we figured you’re old enough now to handle the responsibility that comes with a pet.” §
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m sure I can handle it.”§
School rushed by for Amrita. Each day she hurried home to be with Bindi. The spaniel was smart enough to know just when Amrita would return and be waiting at the gate. One night at dinner Mom said laughingly, “I don’t even have to watch the clock to know when you’re coming home!” They also noticed that Bindi was a sociable dog. She instantly made friends with the neighbor’s collie, despite the substantial size difference. §
One night Dad elaborated, “Bindi’s a ‘Cavalier King Charles Spaniel’ with Blenheim markings—you would think they could just say ‘red and white.’ It’s a popular breed in the UK and now in the US. She’s had her first and second puppy shots. Now that she’s twelve weeks old, we’ll take her for the third and last round.”§
“How long will she live?” asked Amrita, since her Dad had gotten technical.§
“For this breed, the life expectancy is between nine and fourteen years.”§
“Wow, she could live till I’m twenty-seven. That’s a long time—I could even be married by then!” §
Amrita didn’t like going to the doctor, but when she got to the veterinarian’s office she saw that everyone who worked there loved animals. That’s why they did what they did! She enjoyed seeing the many pets, though it was pretty obvious that the hissing cats didn’t think dogs should share the same doctor. The shot was simple and Bindi hardly noticed. “It’s called a ‘seven way,’” explained Dr. Gupta. “It will protect her against distemper, rabies, kennel cough and several other contagious diseases.” §
Every day after school Amrita was met by a soft yelp and an eager wet tongue. It seemed Bindi was saying, “Where were you? Where did you go? It doesn’t matter. I’m just so happy to see you!” §
And Amrita would talk back, “Yes, Bindi, I’m happy to see you, too. Were you bored today? Did Mom remember to feed you?” Actually, when Amrita was away, Bindi followed Mom everywhere she went in the house.§
Each day at school Amrita had a different story about Bindi’s antics to share with her friends. Every morning after the family puja, she would take a pinch of sacred ash outside the shrine room for Bindi. She once let Bindi come in, but the puppy’s curiosity about all the interesting items created quite a mess. Everyone agreed Bindi should not be allowed in there again!§
If Amrita woke up during the night, Bindi would immediately stand up in her basket near the bed, ready and on guard. But actually she was a terrible guard dog, because she was friendly with everyone—including complete strangers!§
The two often went outside to play. The little pup had no problem romping with the bigger dogs in the neighborhood. To Amrita and Bindi, it was all just so much fun. Little did they realize the possible dangers of playing with other dogs.§
Sometimes bad things happen quickly. For Amrita, there was no warning. Just two weeks after her most recent shots, Bindi suddenly didn’t seem herself. She was listless and kept moving her jaw like she was chewing gum.§
“I think we need to take her back to the vet,” Mom announced. §
Amrita doubted the need. “She had all her puppy shots. I’m sure she’s fine.” §
But the next day Bindi was worse, and blood was coming from her nose. Dad said, “Amrita, we have to take her in.” §
At the vet hospital, Dr. Gupta gave the diagnosis, “Distemper, I’m afraid.” §
Amrita objected, “Wasn’t that one of the diseases the puppy shots were for?”§
The vet replied, “Yes, but the vaccine doesn’t always work. In rare cases, the dog can even get the disease from the vaccine. Was she outside with other dogs before the third set of shots?”§
Amrita stared at him, unable to speak. Her eyes welled up, and tears streamed down her face. §
Dad said, “Yes, the puppy’s been playing with the other neighborhood dogs. But they all seemed healthy.”§
Dr. Gupta went on, “We’ll never know where it came from. But I have to tell you, Amrita, the chances of Bindi living through this are not good. We will give her some medicine to ease her suffering, but I’m afraid I don’t have a cure.”§
Touching his sobbing daughter’s shoulder, he picked up the small carrier kennel with Bindi whimpering inside and they walked out to the car.§
Mom and Dad had already decided not to shield Amrita from Bindi’s illness and likely death. This wasn’t the kind of responsibility they had in mind when they gave her the puppy, but they knew life sometimes brings unintended and unexpected lessons. §
From Bindi’s deterioration over the first day and the words of Dr. Gupta, they knew it wouldn’t be long. They allowed Amrita to remain home from school for a few days. She took care of Bindi, giving her the pain medicine and cleaning her after she could no longer walk. Just three days later, Bindi died quietly in her lap. §
Dad looked on compassionately as his daughter buried Bindi in the backyard under the big orange tree. Returning to the house, she headed for her room and quietly shut the door. Then she saw a little ball lying pathetically near the basket with no one to play with it. All of Bindi’s things jumped out at her in a kind of blurry vision, so real yet so incomplete without their owner. She almost thought Bindi would crawl out from under the bed any minute, jump around and lick her hand. §
Confused thoughts whizzed through her brain. Bindi was dead, wasn’t she? Hadn’t she just buried her? Bindi would not be waking up to play. But maybe it was all a dream. Maybe tomorrow she would wake up from the nightmare. §
Her stoicism broke, and tears flowed down her cheeks as she buried her face in a pillow. Racking sobs shook her body. The teenager cried like she had never cried before. Mom came in and held her until she fell asleep. There was an eerie sense of comfort in Mom’s warmth, as only hours earlier she had lovingly held Bindi. Bindi’s sleep was just more permanent. §
“Why did we ever buy her that puppy?” Mom sadly asked Dad, back in the living room. “We’ve just made her miserable.”§
“Yes, Dear, it is painful to see her go through this. And I’m afraid she’s having it a lot tougher than we are. But how could we know? Amrita was just two when your mother died and had little sense of what death meant. And death is supposed to happen to old people, not the young. I’ll try to console her tomorrow. I’m sure sleep will help a bit.”§
The next morning, a Saturday, Dad went to sit with Amrita in the garden, not far from where Bindi was buried.§
Watching his daughter staring at the spot, marked by a few flowers, he spoke softly, “You know, we Hindus believe the soul is separate from the body and goes on after death in the next world.”§
“So does that mean Bindi is still there, somewhere?”§
“Not exactly. Guruji once explained that dogs have a ‘group soul,’ sort of like one heavenly dog is the soul of every physical dog of a certain type. But he also said that sometimes when dogs and other animals associate with humans, they start to form individualized souls. I think Bindi made some progress in her short life, but it’s not like the same Bindi can be reborn.”§
“So she’s never coming back!” Amrita ran off to her room sobbing, overwhelmed by her memories of the day before. §
Dad returned to the kitchen to talk to Mom, not sure he was handling the situation well.§
“Sometimes there are just no good answers,” said Mom. “It’s all Siva’s will. Amrita will come out of it sooner or later. I think everyone grieves on his or her own schedule. There are still days when I feel sad about my mom.”§
But Amrita continued to be desolate, and her mother became increasingly concerned. Finally, three weeks after Bindi’s death, she took Amrita to the orange tree, and both of them gave the tree a big hug. Mom said softly, “You have to let go now, Amrita. The more you think about Bindi and cry for her, the more you remain attached to her. You have to let go, for your own good. It’s called being affectionately detached. Death is part of life; we can’t fool ourselves that it is not. When my mother died, I couldn’t let go for years, but finally I did.”§
“I just want Bindi back!”§
“Tomorrow, let’s go somewhere, just you and me. I think I know something that will help.”§
She made idli sambar for breakfast, Amrita’s favorite. §
After the meal, Mom announced, “Before we leave, we need to pick some flowers and leaves, half a basketful of each.” Amrita gathered them from the garden, including from the orange tree, and soon they were driving in the countryside. White fences, cobbled paths and beautiful vistas gave the drive a picture-book look, but Amrita just stared blankly out the window. Mom drove to a state park they often visited and parked near the river. It was early, and the area was deserted. §
“Amrita, we’re going to do Ganga Sadhana. It’s a way to let go of something that hurts inside you. We can’t go all the way to India to sit by the real river Ganga, so this river will be our Ganga today.” §
Mother and daughter carried the basket of flowers and leaves to the edge of the river, and Mom helped Amrita step out onto a big, flat rock that protruded into the flowing water.§
“Here’s how this works. You take a leaf from your basket, hold it in your hands and think about Bindi for a minute or two. Then put those thoughts into the leaf and offer the leaf into the river, watching as the water takes it away. Then take a flower and offer it into the river to thank Ganga for carrying your thoughts away.”§
Amrita was puzzled. “How’s this supposed to work, Mom?”§
“It is a way to calm a strong emotion that just won’t go away—in this case, your feelings about Bindi’s death. Each time you think of Bindi, you mentally take the emotion and put it in the river. Water purifies everything, and in a sense, it absorbs your emotion. Do it enough times, and finally the emotion will just be a normal memory, not something that upsets you every time you think of it. Try it, you will see.”§
Mom took a seat on a rock nearby to do her own Ganga Sadhana, calling up the memories of her mom, who had died eleven years earlier. Amrita’s suffering reminded her it was something she needed to do.§
Amrita sat still on her rock. Around her it seemed the entire world was still and listening to the soft sound of the river’s flow. Its gentle ripples washed against the rock. The sound reminded Amrita of a mantra. She clearly heard the water sounding “Aum.” §
She took a leaf, thought about Bindi and then started crying. §
“Big girl,” she admonished herself. “Be a big girl, not a crybaby.” §
She held the leaf tightly, squeezing away its shape, and then put it in the river, followed by a flower. Then another leaf and another flower. With each new leaf and flower, she got sadder and missed Bindi even more. But the river remained untroubled; it didn’t seem to mind taking all her sadness. §
After half an hour Mom murmured, “Time to go. We’ll come back tomorrow.”§
By that time Amrita had started to feel some of the river’s serenity. Her body shuddered as she returned to reality. It was startling, like being woken up suddenly. Along with this feeling came the too-familiar feeling of loss. §
“I want to sit here longer, Mom,” she pleaded. §
Mom insisted, “We’ll come back tomorrow. I promise.”§
The next few evenings saw them returning to the riverside. Once, Amrita shared her daily experience of the river’s noises, “Mom, the flowing water sounds like ‘Aum.’”§
Mom answered, “Listen carefully, Amrita, and you will find that it actually sounds like ‘Aum Namah Sivaya’.”§
“Why does all this work? I mean it is working, but I don’t understand how.”§
“Our life force, the energy of our soul, is like the river flowing freely to the sea. But sometimes we humans get all mixed up in our emotions. That’s like when you see a little whirlpool in the river, where the water just goes round and round in circles. Something that upsets us, like Bindi’s death, can tie our energy into knots. When we sit by the river and offer our thoughts into it, we gradually untie those knots so our pure life force can flow smoothly again.”§
That evening Amrita listened more intently to the river and realized that Mom was right; she could hear “Aum Namah Sivaya, Sivaya Namah Aum” as the water ran over the rocks. The sounds of the river helped her relax, and she felt in tune with the perfect universe of divine laws and flawless timing. If asked to explain her feelings that day, she would not have been able to do it. There were no words for the depth of peace she felt, and for the welcome departure of her sorrow over Bindi’s death.§
As time went on, Amrita began to feel that serenity and acceptance even during the day, away from the river. She felt a greater understanding of nature, seeing that even death is part of the cosmic plan. After two weeks of Ganga Sadhana, she could even walk past the orange tree without sadness, just with fond memories.§
At dinner one evening, she told her parents, “I still really miss Bindi, but I am beginning to understand that death is an important part of life, and I need to accept that and not let my life be taken over by what can’t be changed. I think maybe this is what Bindi came to teach me.”§
“That’s an understanding many people never attain, Amrita,” observed her mother. “Bindi has given you a priceless gift. We can be thankful for her presence in our life.”§