Trip To India. Renzo Samaritani

      

      Renzo Samaritani

      Trip to India

      Translated by: Eva Melisa Mastroianni

      Publisher: Tektime

      AUTHOR’S NOTE

      American primitive tribes believed in dreams, on which they based their life... hunting, fishing, trading and other activities. To dreaming they sacrificed everything, so they would obtain omens from them.

      To these people dreams were the source and the basis of spirituality.

      A Jesuit who lived in 1600 claimed that while dreaming he presided at parties, dances, chants, games and he was the major God of indigenous people.

      The Indians were firmly convinced that during the dream the soul lived in another world, a realm that's independent from the body.

      My stories often come into existence from daydreaming and I'm not entirely convinced that they're fairytales... from some point of view, in an immaterial kind of way Stefania, for example, really exists.

      We are eternal spiritual souls, independent from our material body which we use as a gown, which allows us to move and operate in this world and gives us a gender. We are boys and girls in terms of personality that we pick and in this direction the transformation of Stefania in the first book, A man named Stefania, is also very symbolic and concerns energies. It's the essence that changes, more than the body. It's an interior mutation that goes through a conscious psychological and physical change.

      RS

      Spring 2011

      To Sofia Mehiel

      â€œIf the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts”

      Albert Einstein

      OCTOBER 1996

      At Bologna's airport we found Nirvanananda and Max waiting for us.

      â€œRight on time, as always!” I said to them, as they started to help Josè arrange his baggage on the trolleys.

      While we walked on the inside to do the check-in, Josè pulled out our two tickets and he turned to Maximilian.

      â€œMax, is it okay to you, if you and I do it for everyone? Nirva could keep company to Stefi in a dining area. She's still a little too weak with her legs, it would be better to let her avoid the unnecessary queue...”

      Everyone agreed; Nirvanananda took me dearly arm in arm. He was still a little overweight, but slightly. Rounded face, brown hair worn really short. He was wearing an intense blue jumper and a dark blue colored jumpsuit in flannels, even though we were at the beginning of autumn. He constantly suffered the cold.

      He pointed out a dining area inside the hall to the others and we set off.

      â€œI'm so excited for this trip, and you?” I told him.

      â€œIt doesn't seem real...” he answered.

      â€œMaximilian seems radiant as well!” I observed.

      â€œYes, he is. And it's our first journey together. He's very grateful to have let us meet and so am I. I love you...”

      He squeezed me in a hug that filled me with beautiful energies.

      â€œAre you crying?” I asked him. I noticed he had watery eyes.

      He looked at me in silence. He saw the Stefania of all time, auburn hair of henné shorter than usual, hazel eyes, not so tall but slim, narrow hips and small breasts. I was wearing a kind of tunic with wide trousers, low heels to walk better (especially after the accident).

      â€œIt seems like starting a new life,” said afterwards. “I'm sure that this trip will be a great ‘honeymoon’ to me and Max but also a spiritual experience that will affect us. And there's not a night that goes by that I don't think about the words that the monk wrote... what do you think about it?”

      â€œEven for Josè this is more than a 'romantic' journey, but by now you know me enough... I agree with you. Besides the shock of the devotion that Govindananda made to me and you on the booklet, I'm starting to think that chance doesn't really exist. I feel something will happen. I often thought that I'd like to be a witch, you know?”

      â€œWell, they say that in India there are still witches and they use brooms to move from one place to another. Maybe they sell them and I'll buy you one!”

      We both burst out laughing.

      We choose a table large enough, since the other two would come to keep us company. Nirva asked me what I wanted and walked up to the cash register.

      He came back with a huge glass of orange juice with ice for me and a diet coke with a slice of lemon for him. We would have ordered later for the others.

      He sat and looked at me.

      â€œStefi, all of a sudden you look... distracted, I'd say.”

      I shook my head, a little impatient. “While you were paying the orders at the cash register, a person that I felt to know walked by... just a weird feeling. I can’t explain the reason. Anyway, cheers to our trip!”

      â€œCan we do it with two soft drinks?” Nirvanananda wondered making a funny face.

      â€œWhy not?” I answered. And we had a toast.

      Soon enough we saw Josè and Maximilian arriving, who waved the four boarding passes in coming closer. They only had their hand luggage and the wheelchair folded up.

      The handsome Josè with dark skin and black, curly hair was taller than me and lately, thanks to home gym, also well-built. He didn't have nice features, but instead they were strong and regular with a pronounced jaw, Roman nose and bushy eyebrows. He was wearing a jeans and a bottle-green hoodie, on which stood up Atari's logo. The hoodie's color made his black eyes even deeper.

      â€œReady to get on board?” Max said happily, standing next to Nirva. Maximilian's slim and good-looking figure didn't go unnoticed; strong arms and legs, big hands, long blonde hair, blue eyes. Big nose and not so evident cheekbones. Overgrown beard as it was his habit. He was wearing a polo shirt with white cuff and neck that, together with his black trousers, made him look like a waiter (but no one had the heart to tell him).

      Max looked at the time. "It's just eleven, the plane leaves in exactly forty-five minutes. We still have a great ten minutes, before the queue at the security control thins out. Let’s have a coffee.”

      Josè nodded and proceeded to the cash register with him, coming back with two barley coffees, one normal for Maximilian and a savory croissant for me. I was feeling peckish and wanted to fill my empty stomach. Maybe it was stress-eating: I always suffered of claustrophobia and the idea of traveling in a plane gave me anxiety.

      Josè’s influence was also positive on this fear of mine. Recently I took the lift a couple times, always in his company. He held my hand and told me a joke- unlike me; he was very good at telling them. I burst out laughing, he kissed me and, without me noticing, we already arrived at our destination. Of course a plane is not a lift, but I was sure I could make it. And so it was.

      At the check-in Max and Josè asked for seats away from the windows, in the middle row and they obtained them without too many difficulties. They shoved the hand-luggage in the appropriate compartment and we all settled for the flight. An elegant hostess came by with a tray of candies and a cart of ready-made drinks.

      From the speaker a professional voice welcomed the passengers, inviting them to fasten up their seatbelt and switch off their phones. We were taking off!

      Josè took my hand and I squeezed it hard. The engines started to rumble and the big vehicle moved. “It's not that different from a big bus, which travels not in two but in three dimensions” he said smiling. “Not only far and wide, but also in height. And it's only a one-hour-flight, honey.”

      The