My friend dropped me at the airport in Hamburg. When I checked in for my flight to Mallorca, I got to know it was two hours late.
After checking in I walked around here and there at the airport, just passing time until the flight finally was ready to board. After taking off, in the plane, I met my dear doctor friend with whom I am still connected through a great friendship today.
I have decided not to write names in this story about my life because in the course of telling you all about it, there may be many people who would not like to be named. So I decided not to mention anybody’s name but everybody who has been following my diary knows my friend very well. He has written very nicely about our first meeting, too.
After a while sitting on my seat in the plane, I went to toilet. On my way back I heard a voice calling ‘Swami!’ I turned around and saw a European man smiling at me. For me it was not any wonder that he called out to me. My whole getup, clothes and the wooden shoes, called ‘Paduka’ in Sanskrit, made me look different than anybody else. During the few days that I had spent in Germany, I had already got used to people staring at me and wanting to interact with me. When I heard him say ‘Swami’ I also realized that this man was already familiar with India and had recognized me as a spiritual person.
Next to the man, at the window, a child was sitting and sleeping. He offered me to sit down on his other side, on the aisle seat. I sat down.
He asked me ‘Where are you going to?’ I looked at him for a bit and wondered whether he did not know where the plane was going. After a short break I said ‘Mallorca’ and saw that he himself had understood why I found it a funny question to ask.
When he asked me what I would be doing on Mallorca, I answered ‘Satsang, Meditation, Preaching’ and felt that he was familiar with these words and becoming even more interested. On his next question, where I would stay, I did not have an answer. I did not know where I would stay, I only knew that my hosts would come and pick me up at the airport. I had their number and passed it to him. In exchange he gave me his visiting card, telling me that he was a doctor from Germany. This was written on his card, too, and I had another look at him but still thought ‘He does not really look like a doctor’.
My English in that time was very basic and so our conversation also remained limited to a basic introduction. He told me that the boy sleeping next to him was his son and they were on their way to do holidays on Mallorca. Before landing I returned back to my seat.
I knew there would be someone to pick me up at the airport but I had never met this family before. Their relatives were my father’s disciples in India. So it was their responsibility to recognize me at the airport. As expected they did. When I came out of the doors of the airport, they came forward to touch my feet and welcome me. In their car they brought me to their home where I would stay for the next couple of days.
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So nice to look back on such meetings, knowing that your friends are around, still today.
I like the idea not to tell any names. This will make the whole story very much centered on you, which is actually should be. With more characters we will just get confused who was who.Very nice, I love the weekly reports of your life!
I love your trust. With only basic English and one phone number in your hand, you just jump on a plane to a place that you have never been to and to people you have never met.Such a confidence and trust that God will give you whatever you need is just admirable! But of course, the worse that could happen would be that you would have to go to a hotel – and there are always many around the airport, so no big deal!
What a lovely first met … 🙂
Lovely…it would be wonderful to come visit your home sometime. Hari Om
Blessings,
kiki