Farewell to Bek, we'll miss you! September 10, 2008

My friend Sarah left today and I was going to write about the transient nature of life in Mysore and how that shapes the community, shapes your experience within the community and maybe even shapes your own life. People come and go in Mysore. It's a fact of life. People arrive every day and people leave every day. But during the time you share with people here you can get to know them really deeply. Sometimes in just a few days. You can get to know them so well that you feel like you've known them for a lifetime. You may not even know their last name until you hurriedly exchange email addresses before they catch their taxi to Bangalore or what they do for a living, but those details pale in comparison to what you do know about them; their hearts desires, their fears, their goals, how this practice has changed their lives. This is what I was going to write about today.

Then, at lunch, I heard some news that pointed out the transient nature of life. As changeable as life is in Mysore there are certain constants. One of those constants, for years, was Bek. Bek sold coconuts to the students as we left the shala after our practice. He was there every day with a cart full of coconuts. As soon as he saw you leave the shala he'd pick one from the pile, hack the top of with his machete grab a straw, stick it through the hole and it would be waiting in his outstretched hand by the time you reached him. If there weren't a lot of students around he'd be there with your second or third as soon as he heard you slurping the last dregs out of the bottom. He knew how many you liked to have after practice, he knew whether or not you liked to eat the meat inside or just liked to drink the juice. He always wore the biggest smile and remembered students from years gone by. And if you didn't have the 10 rupees that was okay, "pay me tomorrow". Unfortunately today, tomorrow never came for Bek. He died of a heart attack last night. No one knew how old he was exactly, but his family was certain he was not yet 50.

I cried when I heard Bek died. I cried because I'm going to miss his smile. I cried because I didn't realise how much he had touched my heart until I heard he was gone. Most of all I cried because I never took the time to find out that he had 5 children who are now without a father, or that he was a Muslim. Details of a life that were unknown to me until I learned of his death.

It made me start to think about how many other people in my life that I take for granted. How many people I interact with on a daily basis who's names I don't even know. It made me start to think about the uncertainty of life and how it can change in an instant.

Hindus believe that this is but one life out of many and that life is a continuous circle of life, growth, change and death. My beliefs are and have been much the same. I believe that Bek, who brought so much happiness to so many in his own small way, will be reborn into a life that will reward him for the impact he made in this one. At least I hope so. But that belief won't stop me from missing his smile when I walk out of the shala tomorrow.

Thank you to Kyle for supplying the great pics.