A pocket picked forever, or...???

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It was sometimes in the year 2002, when I had my second divine opportunity to travel with Gurudev on his then probably first trip to Punjab. Lot happened onway which perhaps deserves much bigger time and space to be shared.

However one particular incident on our return trip from Jalandhar to Nizzamuddin Railway Station, New Delhi that caught my attention twice in the week during my meditative sojourns, needs articulation.

I happened to stay with Gurudev throughout the trip whenever he went and it ofcourse was an experience of inexplicable kind, deeply transforming, leaving me extremely gasping for breath acute shortage on words...

Someone bought me a return ticket in executive class coach of shatabdi express train Gurudev was travelling back in. Luckily we were seated very close together and as usually is the case seat next to him becomes a musical chair for those who wish to get a personal 5minute divine proximity.

The journey of 5hours just zipped past. Time to alight was almost arriving, we began to gather all stuff that was needed to be carried off including my small handbag and loads of Saropas (Orange colored stoles) as well Kirpans (Swords) that were gifted to Gurudev during his travel.

As is customary there were loads of people waiting on the platform to receive Gurudev. He alighted off the train and as usual I was tugging right behind him like a foot marshal carrying all his stuff, strutting somewhat like a proud hen.

Our volunteer teams had organised a satsang and interaction session with the coolies for whom numerous Nav Chetna Shibirs had been conducted. Even I had been party to some of those post DSN at AIIMS and one day ended up driving 8 of us in a small Maruti 800.

As we were moving towards the venue I felt a flow of royal energy and presence being just next to Gurudev. I kept all the accompaniments on a table close to where Gurudev was to be seated with over 500 coolies waiting desperately for his darshan and blessings.

Suddenly I remembered to call my parents and inform them of my arrival back home. I looked frantically both sides of my kurta pockets... one side I had put my wallet other mobile, both were now gone. Then what overcome me was something I wonder if Bhanu Didi or those around her would still recollect.

I began to dance with both arms up in the air feeling absolutely setup for freedom. As if some bad karma of sorts got uplifted from my account with grace of my beloved master in whose shadow it all happened.

And I recollect Bhanu didi telling her friends, "dekho dekho usko sab kuch chori hogaya hai, aur kaise naach raha hai..." (look look, he lost everything yet how he's dancing..)..

Was it a pocket picked or a pocket picked, I continue to wonder....!

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