Promises
Today I kept a promise that I made two and a half years ago in Mayapur India. In March of 2004 my brother was dying of cancer. He spent his life as a Hindhu Monk and a devotee of Şrila Prabhupada A.C.Bhaktivedanta Swami and his International Society for Krsna Consciousness. Sridhar (he was born John Alistair) led a very pious life, even in comparison to the austere lives led by his own God brothers. He never swayed from his dedication to a life of austerity for himself and devotional service to God and to helping to bring enlightenment to a very materialistic and ego-oriented world.
Before he was a priest, however, he was a young man. Like all of us, he experimented with drugs as a teenager. In the sixties and seventies (and eighties) and in our part of the city this often led to the use of hard drugs. Unfortunately, Sridhar contracted hepatitus C virus from the needles he and his amigos shared while injecting heroin. I myself caught hep-c the same way, though neither of us knew it at the time. His time as a junkie and drug dealer was short. He abandoned that life when he became a devotee in San Francisco in 1968.
Thirty years later, his hep-c began to show serious symptoms. I alerted him to the possibility he might have hepatitis when I discovered I had it myself. Fortunately for me, my hep didn’t present with the same severe symptoms as his did. At first he began to feel fatigued all the time (though he rarely allowed it slow him down.). He then developed aceites, the buildup of large amounts of fluid in the abdomen. This led to episodic lapses into hepato-encephalitic coma. He eventually developed tumors on his liver. After a failed attempt to get on a transplant list back in North America, he went back to India to die and be buried in the sacred ground of the holy Dham. My other brother and I went with him.
Our journey to India and the time we spent with Sridhar was, for me, one of the most profoundly moving and yet deeply disturbing episodes in my life. Indeed, I am still digesting all that ocurred while we were there. On this I will write more later. For now, I will let it suffice to say that some of it was brought back to me today. While in Myapur, I met the President of the Mexico City Temple. He, like thousands of other devotees from around the globe, had come to attend the Panca Tatva Deity instalation festival, that just happened to concide with my bro's departure from this world. We met outside brother's room one night and he was very kind and sympathetic towards me, as were all the devotees. All understood and shared our grief, and made us feel like family. He made me promise, however, that if I ever came to Mexico I would visit him at the temple. That’s what I did today. I would elaborate more, but its late and I am tired as hell!
Before he was a priest, however, he was a young man. Like all of us, he experimented with drugs as a teenager. In the sixties and seventies (and eighties) and in our part of the city this often led to the use of hard drugs. Unfortunately, Sridhar contracted hepatitus C virus from the needles he and his amigos shared while injecting heroin. I myself caught hep-c the same way, though neither of us knew it at the time. His time as a junkie and drug dealer was short. He abandoned that life when he became a devotee in San Francisco in 1968.
Thirty years later, his hep-c began to show serious symptoms. I alerted him to the possibility he might have hepatitis when I discovered I had it myself. Fortunately for me, my hep didn’t present with the same severe symptoms as his did. At first he began to feel fatigued all the time (though he rarely allowed it slow him down.). He then developed aceites, the buildup of large amounts of fluid in the abdomen. This led to episodic lapses into hepato-encephalitic coma. He eventually developed tumors on his liver. After a failed attempt to get on a transplant list back in North America, he went back to India to die and be buried in the sacred ground of the holy Dham. My other brother and I went with him.
Our journey to India and the time we spent with Sridhar was, for me, one of the most profoundly moving and yet deeply disturbing episodes in my life. Indeed, I am still digesting all that ocurred while we were there. On this I will write more later. For now, I will let it suffice to say that some of it was brought back to me today. While in Myapur, I met the President of the Mexico City Temple. He, like thousands of other devotees from around the globe, had come to attend the Panca Tatva Deity instalation festival, that just happened to concide with my bro's departure from this world. We met outside brother's room one night and he was very kind and sympathetic towards me, as were all the devotees. All understood and shared our grief, and made us feel like family. He made me promise, however, that if I ever came to Mexico I would visit him at the temple. That’s what I did today. I would elaborate more, but its late and I am tired as hell!
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