Talk to Fa

I’d just finished my potato samosas and baingan bharta. It hit the spot. So delicious and tasteful. I was surprised I was the only customer. Maybe it was too expensive for the locals.

I didn’t mind. I had the whole place to myself. After the meal, I sipped my chai and chatted with the host. I tried speaking to her in Spanish, but she responded in English. She was lovely. Her husband was the chef. He’d relocated from Northern India only a few months prior.

Halfway into the chai, I felt a visceral shift in the air. Two men had walked in. The entrance went like slo-mo. The younger man walked past my table and looked into my eyes. It was the most steady gaze I’d ever seen. Our eyes were locked. I couldn’t escape it. I seriously wondered if his eyes were made of seawater from different oceans. In those brief seconds, I began to remember things from the past that didn’t happen in this lifetime. Something much older. I didn’t know that was possible. I was experiencing this inexplicable nostalgia for his eyes.

The younger man joined his friend at a table next to mine. There were many tables, and all of them were empty. I found their choice odd, but maybe they were regulars, and it was their lucky table. I was the visitor after all. As I signed the check, they ordered a few items with the host woman. I was about to leave.

The older man asked me if I was local. I knew they were going to talk to me. I was going through difficult times back then (hence the travel), and I was more alert than usual. To my surprise, I felt relaxed by his presence. My guard was down. The conversation flowed.

The older man had soft, silver hair, with an even softer smile. There was something androgynous about him. Gentle, surreal, otherworldly, with a hint of madness. He was unlike any man I’d met. His body language was refined and open. Next to him, the younger man looked like an anxious little lamb with those big curious marine-like eyes. He was quiet during the conversation. I thought they were a father and a son.

Until they arrived, I’d made myself at home in the restaurant. I filled the space with my sole energy. The space was now transformed into something else. Something shared, with a quirky mix of tension, familiarity, and the kind of mutual understanding that I’d just learned existed.

“You are ready to enter the next phase of your journey,” said the older man. All my life, I’d been collecting dots unknowingly, from different experiences and lessons. When he said that, those sporadic dots connected inside me. I felt that. It was the first time I innately understood spirituality. Oh wow, I’d been a spiritual being this whole time.

The older man didn’t know anything about my circumstances. I didn’t tell him anything personal, actually. He knew. I got that because I have that in me, too. The intuition. The inner knowing. Being in his presence woke up that part of me.

When we parted, along with many other things, he told me, “You were born to save this planet.” I was overwhelmed and stressed by the comment. Legitimately. At the same time, it felt so right and so wrong, and I was scared and excited. I didn’t know what to make of it. I wanted to cool my head. I took the longer route back to my hotel, slowly walking through the small streets, vendors, tourists, and marimba performers at the plaza (actual audio recording below).

When I finally returned to my room, I collapsed into the bed and stared at the ceiling for hours.