Back << Page One – Index – Page Three >> Forward
Home – Writings – Links – The Atma – Sai Baba
LIGHT OF THE ATMA – THE SPARK WITHIN
lexander’s carriage drew up on a cobblestone street lined with double-story apartments where many of England’s elite and powerful resided. As the carriage came to a full stop, Alexander stepped out and turned to speak to the driver.
“My land adventures are making you a wealthy man, and richer you will be from a handsome tip if you wait for me.” The driver nodded his head in agreement.
Alexander looked around, then climbed up the front steps, rang the doorbell and ran his eyes over the flowers and foliage that decorated the front landscape. Partially lost in thought, he became startled when the butler opened the door. Alexander wasted no time in introducing himself; then without delay, he was admitted and shown to a room where he waited for the master of the house, Sir Donald Dover. As Alexander sat down in a leather chair, his eyes scanned the room, looking at the pictures on the walls and various trophies that decorated the mantelpiece. Just at that moment, his parliamentarian friend entered the parlor. As Sir Donald’s eyes caught sight of him, he blurted out…
“You ol’ sea dog! What brings you to my humble home?”
Alexander rose and stood there with a cock to his stance giving his long-time acquaintance a smirk. “You certainly did nicely for yourself.”
Well it’s like this,” Sir Donald said. “After you rescued me and my associates from the sea, I came here to give a little back to life, for the life in me that was spared. I ran for a seat in Parliament, and as wonders would have it, I won it.” He glimpsed at Alexander with meaning then remarked “…and the rest has been pure hell.”
“If hell looks and feels like this,” Alexander commented regarding the opulence, “everyone might want to come here.”
“Believe me,” Sir Donald stated, “what you see, and what is, are two different things. This luxury is more for the sake of others than for me. My quarters, where I spend most of my time, are sparse… perhaps even bleak – no – I’m afraid this is for the impression of it all – it’s not really me.” He then looked at Alexander strangely. “I have the sense you didn’t come here just to see me.”
“You read my looks well – although it is good to see you…”
“Well,” Sir Donald asked as he took a seat, “what’s your problem?”
Alexander retook his seat. His eyes roamed the room a bit, then staring off, he accounted, “God has put me on the waves of the sea to follow the currents of the ocean.” He paused as his thoughts traveled off some. “Well Mate,” he remarked as he regained his presence of mind, “the years make us all older and nothing makes us feel this more than children.”
“Children?” Sir Donald remarked with a slight sense of wonder as to what Alexander was referring.
“Grandchildren actually, my grandson attends the boy’s school uptown.”
“Oh, yes I know the place… quite a prestigious school.”
“I’m not against education, nor rules that keep boys in line, but the jackass that runs the school just kicked me out of his office with both hind legs, just because I wanted to take my grandson out a tad early.” He paused as a tired look came into his eyes. “I don’t know how many years these old bones have left, but most of them will most likely be away from my grandson. I’ve only a little time with him, if fate is kind to me.”
Sir Donald’s tone reflected his sympathy.” So you want me to help you get your grandson out, do you?!”
“That spit-bucket told me his word was law! Even the likes of you may be afraid to take him on.”
“I’ve had a scrape or two with that man myself,” Sir Donald admitted. “And you’re right, he is a tough nut to crack, not because he has character mind you, but because he has immunity, and he has authority to call the law upon one’s head for infractions.”
“Who the devil ever gave that excuse of a man such power?”
“Very powerful men who are intent on having and getting their own way.”
“Too powerful for you?” the captain asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far! I have – let’s say, certain influential powers.”
“Can you get my grandson released?”
Sir Donald smiled. “I welcome the challenge about now; as a matter of fact, so would a few colleagues of mine. They’ve had a bit of a go-around with him also.”
“How long will it take you?” Alexander desired to know.
“Oh, let’s say I can let you know in a couple of hours,” and Sir Donald stood up. Alexander followed suit.
The captain shook his hand. “As I am grateful that fortune has shone upon me with the welcomed rays of your assistance. I am sorrowful that we could not have met again under better circumstances. I’m sure we could have sat down and chatted about old times to our hearts’ content. “
“I understand completely,” Sir Donald sympathized. “And whether we see each other again or not, this brief meeting has made a great difference to me.”
Sir Donald looked at his pocket watch in an effort to change the mood. “Let us say you march right up to that academy at one o’clock this afternoon and take your grandson with my blessings.”
“Can you arrange it so soon?”
“If I can’t, I don’t deserve to hold office.”
And with that, friendly good-byes were exchanged, leaving both with the hint that they would never see each other again.
Alexander presented himself at the dean’s office promptly at one o’clock. The dean had a scowl on his face which displayed his displeasure, and a dagger look in his eyes that seemed to pierce right through the captain. When Michael came into the office his eyes lit up to see his grandfather, but he remained restrained in the presence of the dean.
“Go to the carriage,” his grandfather ordered. “I’ll be there shortly.” Without question Michael obeyed.
After Michael left the room, the dean began to growl, “I’ll see you -” But Alexander was in no mood for his threats. He snapped back with harshness, “You’ll what?!” And the exchange of the silent promises that flashed between their eyes clashed like swords on a battlefield.
The dean couldn’t resist vying for petty power. “Your grandson will not have you to pull strings for him when you’re not around; then it will be between him and me.”
“You take your revenge for me out on my grandson and you’ll be counting palm trees and rocks on a lonely island with hungry inhabitants; and that’s a reality!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” the dean slashed back.
“Threats are often met with threats! If you don’t like what you hear, don’t issue them!”
But, the urge in the dean to give a parting sarcastic remark was stronger than he was able to suppress. “The boy will have to answer to me when he returns!”
As the captain was leaving, he stopped for a brief moment and responded, “Bon voyage,” then abruptly left the office, leaving the dean a little apprehensive.
Alexander was no man for violence or wrongdoings, but he was a man who did some wrongs as a justification for wrongs done to him. Thus, the dean was made to take a voyage to the South Pacific where he was dropped off on an island to cohabit with the natives. It is anyone’s guess whatever happened to the dean, but it was eventually reported that a certain white man had become the father of many children on the island. One can only wonder.
The years for Michael and his grandfather passed with mutual joy. Michael not only acquired a loving taste for the sea, but also acquired a certain mastery over bargaining for a deal that would cost little, yet reap a great profit. In no time, Michael’s heart was a brim with adventurous desire for foreign lands and the sweet taste of wealth in his life.
One day, years later, he found that he, along with his father, his younger brother and little sister, had patrimonially inherited his grandfather’s entire fleet of merchant ships.
By the time Michael was twenty-five, he had the entire shipping business under his complete control. His father had no desire to be involved with the business of shipping any further, to the point of wanting to sell off his interest. But Michael, the shrewd young man he was groomed to be, persuaded his father to entrust his share to him. Michael’s younger brother’s and sister’s interests were held in fiduciary trust. As far as the command of the fleet went, it was Michael who ruled over it without question. He began to travel the world over as he chose, and in his grandfather’s footsteps, collected the most beautiful and expensive fabrics, goods and artifacts the world had to offer.
Michael’s eye was cast toward America, and the moment he entered the New York Harbor he instinctively knew America would be where he would center his headquarters. He sailed to Boston where he acquired several large warehouses, in which he stocked costly dyes, silken threads, delicately spun yarns, the softest leathers, the finest Spanish wools, looms from India, silks and satins from China and the most exquisite rugs from Persia and extensively more, all to fill the appetites of the wealthy men and women on the east coast.
America bustled with the air of excitement, the type that nearly took Michael’s breath away, and the kind that stoked the excitement in his heart for the party and nightlife. Boston had men of means; and Michael attracted to himself men who were not fearful of taking chances. America was far, far away from the yoke of English rule and just loose enough for him to ‘live it up’ as he chose without English restraint breathing down his neck.
As wildly as Michael desired to conduct himself at times, he was not without the cleverness it took to hide the obstreperous side of himself from the eyes of others when he chose to. He could transform himself from the roguish appearance of a man bent upon no-good, to that of one who could project the image of a stylish statesman who commanded respect wherever he went.
His handsome looks drew the drivels of all the women he met, as well as those of the women who could only look upon him from afar. His sharp wit and charm seemed to beam in every direction at once. Men wanted to boost their status by association with him, and women gossiped amongst themselves about his attractiveness.
Michael desired the best for himself. He chose the best acquaintances of men who could enrich his golden chest of opportunities, those who would give in with ease under his bribing charm; and, he romanced women as though each one was the only flower on the tree, until he drew all the nectar from their hearts then tossed them aside with boredom. Thus, Michael went on pleasing himself year after year, for nearly half a decade.
LOOK WHO CAME TO GREET US
Michael had just returned to Boston from the Orient with five of his vessels filled to the loading line with silks that made the mayor’s mouth water with expectation. The day was bright and the ocean shimmered with the sparkle of the sun as it bathed the harbor. Michael’s other ships were sitting off the coast waiting to be docked.
The mayor, learning of the fleet coming in, was waiting at the wharf when Michael’s ship docked. His eyes were as wide as his appetite for pleasure was deep. As the ropes were tossed to the men on the dock, Michael turned to the captain. He had a prankish smile on his face as though he wanted to have some fun. “Look who came to greet us.” Michael gazed in the direction of his First Mate and indicated for him to look at the pudgy mayor sitting so smugly in his richly upholstered carriage.
Michael said to the First Mate, “What do ya’ say we invite His Honor aboard?” Michael turned around and ordered two sailors to escort the mayor up the plank.
The mayor was a man who liked water from afar and feared any height over the thick, three-inch boot heels he wore to appear taller than he actually was. The sailors friendlily forced the mayor from his carriage; and one on each arm, placed him upon the ramp.
“I’m not going up there!” the mayor protested swinging his decorative cane in the air.
Michael signaled the two sailors to give the mayor a nudge upward.
“Blast!” he cursed. “What do you think you’re doing?” But the two sailors didn’t relent. One, now in front of the mayor, tugged on his coat while the other pushed him from behind.
Michael and the captain laughed in sport at the mayor’s plight. Michael got even more enjoyment when the heavy-weighted mayor bounced the plank up and down as he took his steps. He thought the mayor looked like a bean bag – a sag here, a sag there, and laughed as his big belly wobbled up and down as he moved.
“Oh – – – I’m going to be sick!” the mayor moaned. He peered down at the water below. His head swirled and his knees grew weak.
Michael walked over to the plank and spoke to him.” Those women over there might think you’re afraid. Now you wouldn’t want that idea to get around the female circles, would you Your Honor? After all, a man has to keep up his appearances of courage.”
Somehow this stoking seemed to give the mayor just the incentive he needed to take those last few steps. As the mayor stepped aboard, his face was slightly blue and his eyes were dazed. “What are you doing to me? You know I hate ships! They make me – – – queasy!” and his bloodshot eyes rolled upward as he tottered this way and that. “I think I’m going to be sick!”
Michael chuckled with a mischievous tone. “What you’re doing up here Mayor, is learning the fine art of gratitude.”
“Gra-ti-tude! ‘Gulp!’ What on earth is there to be so grateful – – – forrrr…?” The Mayor asked.
“This ship carries in her hull,” Michael informed, “the very fabric that is going to make you the envy of the Boston elite. You must show her your appreciation. She has feelings you know.”
“What?!” A ship has feelings?! Why this thing is no more than -”
“Unt-uh Mayor, you’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Look,” he pleaded, “can’t you just tell her I appreciate her when I am off this tub?”
“Now there you go again Mayor – insulting a fine lady.”
“No – no, I didn’t mean to insult her – I – I – I – I just meant that – – – – I – I – I – just – – – whooo ohhh – -“
The mayor rushed to the side of the ship to heave out the big meal he had eaten just before he came. The crew laughed! Michael enjoyed watching the mayor in his plight. He turned to the captain and said some cutting words about him behind his back. The mayor, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief, wobbled back toward Michael and the captain.
“Make no mistake,” the mayor begged, “I appreciate – – – but it’s kind of hard to – to -” and the mayor held his stomach again. “Ohhh!” he moaned as he ran back to the rail.
“Maybe we better take His Honor off,” the first mate suggested.
“What? And deprive him of the delights of a tour below? Not at all. Now let’s get ‘His Honor’ below.”
As they grabbed his arms, he became startled. “What – what – what are you doing?! Where are you taking me?!”
“To see the cargo Mayor. To see the cargo. First you must pay your devoirs – your respects to this grand ol’ queen of the sea for carrying a load for you, then we’ll leave.”
Michael suavely turned and led the way down to his stately cabin. It was no easy feat for the sailors to get the mayor below deck; but once this was accomplished, he followed along behind Michael who was the example of grace and ease on a swaying ship. The mayor awkwardly swayed and tilted with each step he took. He held his wambling stomach with one hand and the walls with the other.
“Having a hard time keeping your balance Mayor?”
“This better be worth it!” the mayor griped.
Michael had a big crate, which was already opened, placed on the floor of his cabin. “Sit yourself down,” he prompted. The mayor wrapped his pudgy hand around the arm of a rounded-back wooden chair and eased himself ever so gently onto it.
“Drink?”
“Ohhh – – – wohhh – – – Nothing for me thank you. I don’t think – I – need – anything else wobbling around within me – while I am wobbling on this ship!”
Michael poured himself a drink and walked over to the crate. The mayor felt a little nauseous seeing the contents of Michael’s glass move this way and that. His eyes seemed to turn and move around in his head.
“This one,” Michael announced as he slapped a bolt, “is going to make you the ‘Man of the Hour’ if not the ‘Man of the Year’.”
The mayor tried to snap out of feeling sick. Michael put his glass down and took a large pair of scissors from a cabinet drawer. Slightly leaning over the crate, he cut from the fabric, a long strip for the mayor to sample. “Feel that,” he invited with a pride-drenched tone, and he handed it to the mayor who had his hand outstretched in readiness. As the mayor took the piece, his fingers moved slowly over the strip and his eyes sucked in its beauty. He gave Michael a momentary appreciative glance.
The mayor drooled over the fabric. “This is the finest weave and texture I have ever felt! The finest in my life I tell you!” Then like iron drawn to magnet, his eyes fell on the fabric again. “This might even help me to the presidency, and you – to a cabinet post if I make it,” the mayor muttered with delusive belief.
Michael laughed with a derisive jest. “Then both of our political futures lie in your tailor’s hands!”
And Michael walked back to the crate and lifted from it another bolt of costly brocade. “See this fabric Your Honor, as he cut a strip and handed it to him? “I’d wager that the emperor is pulling out teeth and nails right about now.””
The mayor looked up at him with a puzzled expression.
“Oh, did I forget to tell you? This was the emperor’s favorite. I promised just about everything to get it, but he still wouldn’t part with it, for anything! Do you know how many people I had to bribe to get this? Well – let me tell you,” he went on, “I had to get these particular bolts loaded as fast as I could then beat it out of the harbor before the emperor learned I had them. I never have fancied myself without fingernails and teeth.”
The mayor couldn’t have cared less who suffered or who didn’t. His eyes could have popped from his head as he examined the cloth. “Do I get a bolt for me?
“Why of course Your Honor. This is just the kind of gift you can give to the ladies to get gifts back, don’t you think?”
“Yes, yes, oh yes… favors for favors.”
Michael watched with amusement as the mayor puffed with confidence from the overwhelming anticipation of his desire being satisfied. As the mayor fondled the swatch, Michael just watched. ‘Another fish on the hook’.
Back << Page One – Index – Page Three >> Forward
Home – Writings – Links – The Atma – Sai Baba