The Perfect Gaze

It was almost 4 a.m. and still dark as the slightly built figure followed the narrow, unlit, gravelled pathway along the edge of the rainforest towards the main Lodge. A plain, charcoal grey blanket shrouded the figure’s head and shoulders to ward off the pre-dawn chill of a tablelands winter’s morning. The dawn chorus of rainforest life had yet to begin although the shrilled squawk of a solitary white cockatoo could be heard from somewhere within the mist covered, rainforest canopy. The only other sound was the melodic rhythm of a set of chimes that danced lightly in the gentle breeze. The figure approached the polished, brass bell that hung heavily from its mountings in front of the Lodge. At 4 a.m. precisely the bell’s vibrating sounds resonated into the crisp, pure air calling the faithful to the first meditation of the day. John Brixton was instantly awake although he could see nothing in the pre-dawn blackness of his cabin. It took his mind a chaotic few seconds to realise where he was and to comprehend that he had only 30 minutes to make his way to the meditation room. He had arrived at the Far North Queensland retreat late the previous evening and apart from a quick briefing as to the daily schedule of spiritual practices, had not met a soul as everyone had already retired to bed. He now knew why as he splashed his face and brushed the stale taste from his mouth. His day didn’t usually start this early but 4.30 a.m. starts were certainly something he would have to get used to. As John entered the meditation hall he was pleased to see several older people seated on chairs, as he knew his knees would not be able to cope with an hour or so sitting crossed legged on a cushion. However, it didn’t seem to faze most of the room’s other thirty or so occupants who were adjusting their postures, rearranging their blankets or just sitting quietly. An array of perfumed candles flickered from the low set altar producing a soft, almost eerie light and an undefined but gentle relaxing aroma. Seated in the full lotus position, facing the room and still shrouded in a blanket, was the slender figure that had rung the bell a few minutes earlier. John’s eyes naturally closed as the haunting sound of the harmonium gently began to fill the ether. It was quickly joined by the steady base rhythm of the tablas. It was when the voice was added that John’s eyes instantly opened and he began to tremble. He watched enchanted as he listened to the shrouded figure as her fingers glided over the harmonium’s keyboard and her exquisite voice filled the room with peace and purity. John still could not see her face and her voice was briefly stilled as the rest of the meditation group repeated the chant but as she serenely took up the chant once more, John’s emotions started to stir uncontrollably and vivid memories flooded his mind. It had been a Sunday evening several years before, just a few days after Leila had returned from India. She had taken him along to the free, weekly Hare Krishna feast. She had assured him that there would be a great vegetable curry, an even better halva desert and he would only have to chant a little for his supper. As so often happened with Leila, she had met the Hare Krishna group leader at a spiritual retreat somewhere else and was soon leading the chanting. In the middle of a very long chant she had broken into the same version of the Maha mantra that was now filling the hall. It had brought tears of joy to his heart that evening as he had listened to her immaculate voice while gazing into her radiant face. As John’s mind returned to the meditation room, his heart rate had almost doubled for he now knew that the shawl covered woman was Leila. Tears started to cascade down his cheeks as the love he had been silently harbouring for eight long months, finally burst forth from the confines of his heart. As he joined in the chanting his love knew no bounds. When the chanting stopped, Leila closed the lid on the harmonium and pushed it to one side. John held his breath as she slid the blanket from her head down over her shoulders and lifted her eyes to survey the room. His heart missed several beats as her gaze momentarily rested on him causing him to shudder but before he recovered she had closed her eyes without in any way acknowledging or seemingly recognising his presence. While everyone else in the room seemingly spent the next hour in peaceful nothingness, John’s mind and emotions raced chaotically out of control. His whole world became obsessively focused on Leila as he gazed fixedly upon her expressionless but glowing face. His whole being screamed out to be alone with her so she could stop the pain and rampaging doubts that were assailing him. He just wanted to hold her close so he could release the torrent of pent up, unfulfilled feelings that were tearing him apart. What if she doesn’t love me anymore, he thought over and over again, which caused a state of near panic to arise in him? How the hell did I get in this state, he silently asked the Universe? Calm down, everything will be all right once you speak to her. God, let everything be OK, he prayed. The meditation was the longest hour of his life and it was with an almost audible sigh of relief that he finally heard Leila chant, Aum, Peace, Amen, in conclusion. He continued to watch her intently, expecting a welcoming, encouraging, even loving glance in his direction. Instead she turned and exited by a side door on the opposite side of the room to where John was sitting. Don’t do this to me, he pleaded inwardly to the heavens as he followed the departing assembly out into the early morning sunshine. God, I am a wreck and it is only 6 a.m. She can’t have seen me, he reasoned to keep himself sane. Otherwise she would have come over and given me a hug, surely? The bell announcing breakfast broke his total self absorption. His hopeful aspirations to speak to Leila over muesli and natural yoghurt were immediately dashed as he read the sign over the door that read: Please observe silence during breakfast. Anyway, as he sat down on the bench seat at one of four large solid oak tables and surveyed the room, he could see that Leila wasn’t present. He felt sick to his stomach and the muesli with soya milk tasted awful. The home made, rye bread was far too healthy and the jam didn’t have any sugar in it. As he rose from his seat and walked towards the cups, he hoped at least that the tea would be normal as he strongly suspected that coffee probably wasn’t on the beverage menu. As he lifted his head and his cup to look for the hot water, the doors to the kitchen swung open and Leila emerged carrying two large metal kettles. They stood gazing into each other’s eyes separated only by a table that had fifty hand-made ceramic mugs and a colourful assortment of herbal tea bags adorning it. As she placed the kettles in front of him she put her finger to her lips to silence the words that were forming in his throat. The momentary feeling of elation drained from him as with a brief smile she turned and vanished once again behind the swinging doors. The tea turned out to be real Indian chai with lots of sugar, which he carried back to his table feeling incredibly frustrated. Having looked into her sparkling eyes and seen her beautiful face, he wanted desperately to personally possess her in every possible way. He just had to get her alone and hold her close so he could experience once again the incredible passion, love, fulfilment and excitement of being with her.