Trip To India. Renzo Samaritani

the end he followed his true calling and officially became a disciple of Sai Baba. Now his name is Hridaya and lives in Puttaparthy's ashram. He's finally free from all the conflicts and I'm sure that some of his friends will be happy for him.”

      I felt a bit uncomfortable. I was sort of ashamed of showing so little tolerance and compassion in father Sandro's regards... after all he did nothing wrong. If I was disappointed, he had indeed no fault: he never promised me anything.

      The doctor seemed to read correctly all my thoughts. “Father Sandro was everyone's friend, but he didn't truly bind with many people.”

      I sharply raised my head, because I realized I unconsciously bowed it. Yes, I could be honest with Giuliano; I had to give him an explanation. Maybe not him, but I had very few chances to provide my reasons directly to father Sandro. Talking with the doctor would be the best I could do at that point.

      â€œYou should know...” I started uncertain but I stopped straight away. He smiled and nodded, encouraging me to go on.

      â€œFather Sandro was for me more an acquaintance than a friend, but I was very fond of him. We met in a club where I worked in those days,” I added with a smile almost as an apology, but the doctor didn't give me any sign of shock from my revelation. So I kept going.

      â€œIn that period I was searching for answers to better understand the direction I wanted to give to my life and it seemed like father Sandro could help me to combine the need of a spiritual life with the natural demands of a material life...”

      â€œI see,” Giuliano said with a more serious look. “But you didn't expect that Sandro's solution was so unconventional...”

      â€œYes, exactly. That the accepted an Indian swami, Sai Baba, as his master, while remaining in the Catholic Church.”

      Giuliano patted me gently on the hand. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy...”

      I looked at him questioningly. He apologized, “Oh, yeah, Shakespeare, Hamlet... one of my favorite quotes... I tend to forget that Shakespeare in Italy is basically unknown.”

      â€œNo, no,” I hurried to recommended him, “It’s a brilliant quote. I like it; I’m going to steal it from you.”

      He put on a big smile and change subject. “So, where are you going in India? To see the Taj Mahal in Agra? To the beach in Goa? Or all over the villages?”

      â€œActually we intend to go to Nepal to visit an old friend, monk Govindananda. Five years ago I have been in Kathmandu’s ashram where he lives and I really enjoyed the stay...”

      Doctor Giuliano seemed impressed. “What a coincidence,” he smiled. “I'm going to Nepal too! Maybe we could travel together...”

      It was pretty incredible. It couldn't be an eventuality. Just a few days before the departure I bought a book really interesting, The Celestine Prophecy, and I developed a passion in reading it and in its plot, which stressed how nothing happens by chance and how events in our life are organized in a way that let us spiritually evolve when we're ready and we accept to pursue the ‘journey’.

      After a few minutes of friendly conversation, doctor Giuliano went back to his seat, some rows behind us; and he apparently explained the circumstances to his comrade, because the guy smiled and waved when he noticed that I was looking at them.

      I decided to get my book out of my bag and continue the reading. I wasn't too interested in the movie projected on the screen, to be honest it was quite far from our seats and it wasn't easy to follow the story. Josè pulled out the book from the over head compartment for me and then kissed me on my forehead. “I can tell that you're doing fine, honey. I think I'll go and stretch my legs and maybe see what condition the toilet is in.”

      â€œAlright, dear, thank you,” I smiled and then I dived into my book.

      Despite my fears, the flight turned out rather comfy. It was easy to imagine being on a very big bus, that was traveling on some motorway and I panicked just a couple times, when due to air turbulence the craft all of a sudden dropped in altitude. Josè hugged me immediately and consoled telling me that the bus got a hole on the road...

      Around 7 pm the hostesses brought the trays with dinner. In economy class there wasn't a menu to choose from, besides the vegetarian or non-vegetarian option had to be ordered at the check-in. Josè showed how to drop down the table from the back of the seat in front of mine and I got a transparent hard-plastic tray with a series of similar tiny bowls, covered with a transparent plastic wrap, and a throw-away plateau in aluminum closed with a cardboard lid and a glass of water from the refrigerated jug on the trolley.

      The little tray was quite warm: it clearly had been just warmed up. I opened it up with a kind of interest and found myself contemplating a trio of preparations: plain white boiled rice, chickpea stew and a mixture of vegetables apparently pan-cooked – green beans, potatoes and tomatoes. The taste wasn't bad, but it wasn't anything to get excited about.

      I turned to the bowl of salad: lettuce, julienne carrots and one lonely olive. There wasn't any condiment, but Josè found a packet of ‘salad dressing’ which contained oil, vinegar and packets of salt and pepper. Another bowl contained a fruit salad: a slice of pineapple in syrup and some slices of banana. I accompanied them with a soft bread roll (in a foil sachet) spread with some butter.

      Josè squinted at me, amused by my disappointed and perplexed look in front of my first meal on an airplane. “Don't worry, little monkey,” he said affectionately. “We'll eat properly when we arrive at our destination. Airlines have a restricted budget for what concerns food service. In first class they have better food, but we shouldn't forget that the main service is the transport of the passenger and his luggage, and no one is promised a gastronomic experience.”

      I smiled. He was right, as always. When the flight assistant came to pick the trays up, Josè asked for two cans of Coke. He said they would help us to digest.

      Seeing as in Coke there was enough caffeine we refused coffee and tea that the next trolley offered us, and then we organized to lay down a bit taking advantage of the empty seats near us. Raising the armrest and making it fit into the space between the two seats was enough to obtain a big enough space to stretch out. Not a sleeper, but it would do for a couple of hours.

      At 9 pm the lights went on again in the cabin and the loudspeaker announced that we would be landing in Dubai within half hour, 11 pm local time. We all were stiff and sleepy, but we managed not to leave anything on board, not even my wheelchair that the flight attendant seemed to have forgotten. We got off at Dubai airport where some passengers went towards the customs - they had arrived at their destination - while our group trotted quite together, following the transit signs.

      Josè and Nirva convinced me to use the wheelchair, so not to slow them down and I took their bags on my knees.

      The transit passenger's assistance desk checked our tickets and took the voucher for the Dubai-Delhi tract, giving to us our boarding cards: the next flight was leaving at 2 am, local time. We settled somehow in the waiting area to spend those three hours... some Indian passengers took out some colored blankets from their hand-luggage; they spread them on the floor and casually laid down on them. It seemed an excellent idea, even though in Italy no one would think of it. Unfortunately in our luggage we had nothing that could serve the purpose, so we made do with sleeping sat on the available armchairs.

      About twenty minutes before the departure a ground hostess came to call us and the group walked again towards the gate, this time it was attached to the fuselage of the plane through a metal tunnel that looked as if it was not so sturdy.

      There wasn't much choice of seating, therefore Josè and I found ourselves on the left of the aircraft, with Nirvanananda and Max three rows behind, while Giuliano and his friend were further in front. Josè went to speak to a flight assistant and managed to get us moved near the tail of