IN-DIA-RY

2. The Mysterious Future or Past?

Chapter Two

The Mysterious Future or Past?There are three hundred Indian monks in two hundred locations whose traditions are passed down from father to son. They are untiringly searching in secret libraries for palm leaves inscribed in minuscule ancient Tamil characters.

In two thousand and five hundred years, seventy-five ancient sages, known as the ‘Maharishis,’ wrote down messages and life paths on papers, more precisely, on palm leaves. Over the centuries, these were copied to preserve their content and pass their wisdom when their time comes. Maharishis are respectable, wise, holy men who can see beyond space and time into the Akasha Chronicles. About one hundred and ten million out of the people living today are believed to have a leaf. 92% of the people who are requesting to search for theirs are found. Mainly those who feel its calling are the ones who start seeking it.

Only one person can enter the Palm Leaf Library, where they keep the ancient secret sacred. The fingerprints of today’s people get transformed into a code made of letters and numbers, and the leaves are identified based on this. Searching for a Palm Leaf can take as long as six to twelve months.1

To be honest, I really liked this fairy-tale, but I didn’t expect it to bring me any salvation. My life had been so chaotic in the last year - after our move, my divorce, and my struggle to build a new life – I was glad when I remembered having milk and some food in the fridge for dinner.

The phone rang after a brief four hundred and eighty-five days.

“Hello, can I talk to Flóra Földes?”

“Speaking,” I chirped into the phone.

“I’m pleased to inform you that your Palm Leaf has been found.”

Silence. I slowly put down the dishcloth while holding a dripping wet plate in my other hand.

I stopped breathing. Standing there in the mellow late summer as the sunlight flooded through the window, I could have been a model for a light and shadow painting with my dreamy pink cheeks. What a pity I was not discovered by an artist just then.

“Hello! Are you there?”

“Y-Yes,” I stammered.

‘God, they really found it!’

“That’s great news!” I brightened up. ‘And what will happen now? Is this really true? Is it mine? I have almost forgotten all about it. What will happen to me? Because I can certainly feel something coming!’

“When can we arrange the reading?” I asked.

And then, we set the date. Since Marcsi’s Palm Leaf had been found as well, we got an appointment for the both of us for a late fall day in eleven weeks. ‘If I have waited for this long, I could be patient a little longer,’ I thought. And anyway, everyone is supposed to receive their Palm Leaves at the right time.

We agreed to leave at six o’clock in the morning. I did my best to be ready on time. Especially since Marcsi usually arrives five to ten minutes early, which really annoys me. I belong to the last-minute group. I hate when somebody is standing in the doorway, glancing at me urgently while I am doing the final touches or putting my lipstick on.

It was a quarter to six. I looked in the mirror, not because I was vain, just a simple habit before leaving the house. It meant that I was ready. I wished to look a little sexier, but I never felt it was actually in me. My looks got stuck somewhere between “naively girlish” and “What a woman!”. Honestly, I secretly preferred the latter, but staying on the grounds of reality, the balance tilted more towards the first one.

On the other hand, I was brave in wearing colorful accessories. Vibrant colors and hippie style were the closest to my heart, but those days had already passed. It would have caused quite a starring in a small town in the 2010s, so I limited myself to wearing a few unique bracelets, necklaces, and earrings.

Unlike my daughter, Bella, who would wear bright flower hairbands (reminding me of the Woodstock festival) and would be ready to set off barefoot any time if necessary!

We look a lot alike. She has often been stopped in town and asked: “Are you Flóra’s daughter?” Even in her teenage years, she could carry her beauty gracefully while I blunted mine.

We both have long, narrow faces framed by wavy hair, large brown understanding eyes, and a slightly prominent nose. While Bella’s lips are thicker and more sensual, we both have tiny dimples when we are smiling. We are also connected by our shared belief in people and our ability for compassion.

Our constant optimism makes us smile easily; we are truly a good duo. My daughter’s insights and her way of forming opinions exceed the maturity of people my age. And while Bella, in her beautiful youth, had a perfect figure, in the past few years, my hips were getting slightly fuller.

Despite being over forty, I could easily get away with cutting off five or eight years from my age at any time, depending on the amount of sleep I had got. Not that I have ever cared much about my age. It’s just a number, a piece of data, nothing more.

I always wished for my hair to be longer, but I had gotten used to its middle-length and came to terms with this feeling of “I wish I had…” Without complaining, I put my wavy locks into a low loose ponytail, and with a swift, quick motion, I fixed my side bangs.

I was finally ready; warm brown eyes smiled back at me from the mirror.

I smoothed out the wrinkles of the orange tunic on my waist; it was charmingly vibrant. The blue, vintage ring that I got from Bella looked great on my long finger. She certainly knew my style.

The bell rang, and I hurried to open the door.

Marcsi threw an exhausted look at me from under her long eyelashes. Her tight, brown turtleneck sweater pointed out her feminine shape. However, I couldn’t see the usual enthusiasm in her bright blue eyes. She flashed her tiny pearl-like teeth as her lips curled into a smile, her small nose wrinkled, and she shook her unruly hair.

“I couldn’t fall asleep last night, and I can barely stand on my feet. And now I have to go like this….” She groaned.

“There is no turning back now!” I looked at her encouragingly. But her freckles were already smiling mischievously, and I knew everything will be alright.

“I was picking out my clothes for hours last night.”

“Great, now that I am thinking about it, I should have done something useful too… Are you ready or what? We’ll miss our big day!”

I quickly ran into the bedroom to kiss my kids on their foreheads. Both of them were asleep, comfortably spread out on their beds. Then, I remembered: I had to wake up Andor! ‘He can’t be late for his swimming competition! I hope he will not forget about the sandwiches in the fridge…’, countless motherly worries were racing through my mind. I gently touched his shoulder. Despite him being slim and tall, his water polo past had undeniably left a lasting mark on his muscles; his every motion radiated power. When he was willing to get up instead of sitting in front of the computer. Sometimes he reflected the feeling of a Mexican siesta: the kind of atmosphere when the fans’ blades are spinning slowly, and even the flies flying around won’t bother him.

I wasn’t sure if I was successful with my mission of waking him up, so I decided to call him from the car in fifteen minutes. I could see him lazily waking up. It would have been hard to get mad at him for anything; even grownup, he looked so innocent with his light blonde hair and green-brown eyes.

‘Being in high school, he could really learn how to get up by himself. What will he do in college?’

It was time for us to leave.

We were greeted by a pleasant atmosphere in the reading center: almond-colored walls, mint green carpet, and rattan wicker armchairs with comfortable cushions to sit on. Rose, the lady welcoming us, introduced herself and explained everything. She was wearing her black hair in a huge bun, she must have been in her mid-fifties, but she looked ageless. Her long skirt was flying behind her, struggling to keep up with her quick steps. Clearly, she loved people and enjoyed her job. She guided us to a small counter, and after completing the registration forms, we were offered a seat and snacks at one of the tables.

“Please, wait here for a little bit. There are seven appointments for today, and I will call you when it’s your turn. Can you see those stairs over there?”

“Sure.”

“You will need to go up there. There are two small rooms upstairs where you can find our English translators if you need one. Even if you speak English, it can be useful to let them help you because our Indian readers have strong accents. Also, there are some special phrases in the Palm Leaves that our translators are familiar with, but their meaning might not be obvious for everyone.”

I was beginning to feel that her kindness was a little excessive. She smiled at us and fixed the tablecloth and snacks on the tiny table.

“I will be here if you have any questions!” She said and stormed out of the waiting room as if she had something urgent to do.

Marcsi and I let out a sigh. ‘We have arrived.’ We got a parking spot in our big capital city, bought tickets, and even found the right building. ‘It is really happening!’ We released all the pressure of our traveling, fell into the armchairs, and looked around curiously, eyeing our fellow seekers. A strange twist of fate connected us; we were the ones whose Palm Leaves would be read on the very same day. Surely, there must be something that brought all of us here today.

In the back of the room, the furthest from us, was a middle-aged guy who obviously thought highly of himself, flirting with a brown-eyed girl in a red sweater. The guy was telling typical spiritual pick-up lines; she must have been hearing about angels for the first time in her life. Only traces of it reached us, but even hearing it was tiring.

A woman was sitting in the other corner in a conservative buttoned-up dress with her young daughter. They were whispering, and you could tell they were not here to make friends.

Another woman with short, blond hair appeared at the top of the stairs and walked down towards us with bouncy steps. All eyes were fixed on her. Finally, she sat down at our table.

“Pfff. You can’t even imagine! I was so nervous; I thought I wouldn’t survive!” She began wiping her forehead.

“Why? What’s happening up there? What was it like?”

“My gosh, … do you mind if I take a sip?” Not waiting for an answer, she reached out for the bottle of drink on our table. “Thanks!”

We just nodded.

“There are two rooms upstairs, and I had to go into the right one. There is a huge screen on the wall, and they connect you with the reader in India through Skype. It’s so cool!” She giggled. “By the way, my name’s Henci. Sorry for just sitting down like this.”

“No worries, you are welcome to stay!” We smiled kindly. You could tell she did not want to be left alone.

“And how was it? Did they really tell you your destiny…?” We asked.

“No, no! They just identified me now. I saw my Palm Leaf, and they told me my father’s name, my mother’s, and my siblings’ too. They were all written there! They knew I had some education in textiles, which I do; I went to the Textiles and Clothing Institute. They even knew about a scar on my left leg; I was bitten by a dog when I was three.” We listened, and our jaw dropped to the floor. The rest of the room also fell silent, concentrating on her.

The lady who welcomed us rushed into the room.

“Henci, I’m so happy it was successful! Can we have the next one, please”’ She pointed her finger at the mother and her daughter. “First, they will identify everybody, then you all come back here and wait for a little longer. Later, everybody will go upstairs again in the same order, and your already translated Palm Leaves will be read to you. They will be chanted in ancient Tamil first, then in English, which will be presented to you in Hungarian by our translators.”

“How long will it take?” A short guy with dreadlocks asked. He arrived a few minutes earlier and immediately joined our little group in a friendly manner. He was holding his colorful crochet hat in his hand. You could tell that he wasn’t an anxious type at all.

“Identification takes about ten minutes. Our colleagues in India will have their lunch break soon because of the time difference, you know.” Our guide explained with an apologetic smile. “You should expect it to be taking the whole day. In the meantime, I can recommend visiting our small chapel; it was consecrated and blessed last month. It is a great place for seclusion and meditation!”

Only then we noticed the tiny extra room modestly hiding, its door blending in with the color of the wall.

“I don’t know…” Marcsi said. “I am not sure if I should believe in this whole thing. It might be a scam!” I could only hope Rose was out of earshot.

I was losing my confidence: What makes her say this? Her rationality or her lack of sleep? Or is it the fear of the unknown?

“It doesn’t matter now; we are already here. You will listen to the reading anyway since we have come this far!” I answered.

“Of course, I will. But what if this whole thing is a hoax?” Marcsi kept protesting even louder, and I had to ask her to take it down a notch.

“I’m sure it’s true!” The blond beauty cast her vote.

“Does it really matter?” The boy with the dreadlocks turned to her kindly. “When you ask for predictions or want to have a glance at your past or future, you have to consider the consequences. Like it or not, from that point on, whatever you hear will affect your life. By simply listening to it, you have chosen to accept it and bear the consequences.”

“Don’t be so sure! Just because they tell me something doesn’t mean that I will act on it!” My friend snapped. “On the contrary!”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” the boy smiled. “One way or another, it will affect you. Because at this point in your life, you have asked for help from somewhere. You don’t necessarily have to think of something huge. Maybe, you only have to touch the ball to make it roll. Maybe you will like what you hear and attract it into your life. Or quite the opposite. What’s the difference? Either way, your actions will be determined by what you hear… That’s why you came here—for confirmation in or against something.”

“Ok, but then how do you know if it’s true or not?” Marcsi insisted.

“I don’t think it matters whether it’s true or not.” The boy continued calmly.

“What do you mean?”

“You have reached a milestone in your life today, where this chapter takes place. Since you have already started and created it for yourself — you went to the lecture, you were curious, and you registered — you should relax and simply live this moment. Listen to what they have to say. Let it sink in. Everything that happens to you has a purpose. I think you know that too.”

“I think so too, Marcsi. Let’s assume for a minute that we are victims of a scam. Even then, I should accept it and let it integrate into my life because I chose it for myself. All of it. Whether it is a hoax or not. If I decided to come here, why would I start questioning myself now? I wanted this. I made a decision, so now I will go through with it; otherwise, there was no point in coming here!” I professed.

“In my opinion, we often mark things as hoax or fake when we can’t understand them and their new dimensions. Simply because our brain is unable to take in certain new information. After all, it is hard to imagine that thousands of years ago somebody wrote about us, about our lives today…” Henci joined in, her eyes shined dreamily.

“To me, it is as if I had left a message in my previous life to give myself strength in a situation when I need it,” I added.

“Yes,” the boy joined in. “I, for one, want to know if I should continue playing music. And if I will ever settle down, or I will always be a wanderer?” He added with a playful smile.

Marcsi sighed. I didn’t hear the rest because they called my name, and I hurried up the stairs, passing bright chakra symbols on the wall.

We started by greeting each other; my translator Ildi and Shaktar, the reader on the screen, an Indian gentleman with glasses, a deep voice, and good humor. They read out all of my information from the Palm Leaf: my date of birth, city, family, and some biographical events. Yes, that is me! My leaf needed to be prepared for the reading, so I will have to come back later.

After some snacks in the waiting room, I went to the meditation chamber. The scent of incense, the closeness of the saints, and the flowers on the altar all calmed me. I turned off my mind and gradually soaked in the energy of the place. I focused on the reason I came here for. To face the exciting and mysterious message.

My turn came after the mother, whose face was unreadable; I couldn’t tell if she was enthusiastic or dispirited. Perhaps she was trying to hide her nervousness.

It was well into the afternoon when I finally found myself in the reading parlor. I was instantly affected by their joy; no one would con me here. I felt like participating in a relaxed, friendly conversation, even though the moment had its sacredness. The reader chanted each sentence in ancient Tamil, then translated them one by one to English. First, he described my current situation; all of it was entirely true, and we were laughing loudly all along.

The second part of the reading was about my future described in six-year periods. I will divorce my husband in peace and love, pay off my debts, have a new job, and he mentioned a man who will support me in all this from the background, and I will take on a new project. He spoke about my spiritual progress, my kids’ success, me being a grandmother, and the tranquility of our family.

He also talked about my international recognition, my translated articles, and the wisdom of my old age.

All good things.

I received enough information to be able to believe in my future happiness, but not too many specifics to determine my actions, leaving me the joy of discovery. If I were a Soul, I would surely want to have this life.

“Yes…” I muttered quietly. “I can happily accept my life going in this direction.” I even asked, “This sounds so good. Are you sure it is my leaf?” The wise man chuckled and nodded.

The third phase of the reading was about one of my previous lives. It was highlighted on my leaf. I was a Bharatanatyam2 dancer in India from a poor family - ‘What was I? How do you spell that?’ – who rose high, bewitched many men, and gave sorrow to a lot of women. Even though I bore many curses, I could cleanse myself, through the offerings told by the Maharishis, to free the flow of my life again.

Shaktar read my personalized pooja3 from my Palm Leaf:

1. Give a gift to the Palm Leaf Center: cash donation, flowers, and a set of new clothes; it is an expression of the circle of abundance.

2. The mantra of Lakshmi4 (Her of all goddesses?! Well…) will be prayed for me by monks in the Tamil Nadu monastery. My respect for them has to be expressed in the form of a cash donation.

3. To visit and pray in the temples of Thirunallar and Mayladuthurai in South India.

After leaving the reading room, we were all eager to share our experiences. Everybody was vibrating under the spell of their life story. Our little group became friendly during the day; we gave a goodbye hug to Henci, and the musician boy turned out to be playing on a UFO-shaped percussion instrument.5

If we are lucky, we can run into street-musicians playing the exotic drum.

He gave us a CD to listen to in the car on the way home, and we promised to go to his concert on 11/11/11, which was specifically scheduled for this date, keeping in mind the rules of numerology, to guarantee all sorts of earthly and celestial pleasures.

Our guide clapped her hands in surprise when she read my pooja.

“To be honest, I can’t remember anybody being required to visit two temples in India! It is indeed rare to be required to visit India.” She pursed her lips and looked at me over her glasses with a strange, searching gaze. It made her expression even more bizarre, though she was already quite a phenomenon.

‘Wow!’

‘What does all this mean?’

As I said before, it meant that once I decided to play the game, I will go through with it.

Although I didn’t have any money at that time, I decided then and there: I will travel to India. The urge was so strong; even the possibility of it not happening was unimaginable. The gods could not have found a better way of karmic release for me!