One by one, the disciples looked into Chinmoy's eyes with
out-stretched hands. When they received the darshan they touched
the orange to their heart chakra, bowed, and walked reverentially
back to the benches.
When it came my turn, I approached slowly so that people
would think I was spiritual. "When Guru flickers his eyes,"
I recalled my brother telling me, "he is entering the perfect
awareness of Nirvakalpa Samadhi." I looked up. Chinmoy smiled,
flickered his eyes, and pulled from the box...nothing! He had run
out of oranges.
"An omen!" I thought. I was unsure, though, what the delay
exactly meant. Nonetheless, I decided to take advantage of the situation.
I focused my gaze on Chinmoy. Soon everything in the chapel, except for
his shiny face, seemed to disappear. Then, borrowing a technique
from the Castaneda books, I squinted and crossed my eyes until Chinmoy
transformed into swirls of shimmering light. "Wow!" I thought.
For a moment, the distorted image before me reminded me of the Transcendental.
When Chinmoy came back into focus, he shot a glance at the side
of the chapel. A disciple brought him a fresh crate. After the
second flickering, I took the orange with both hands, touched it
to my heart chakra, and bowed.
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