This is a story I have been wanting to write for weeks. It is a story about the sweetest serendipity and one small example of how help can appear seemingly out of the blue… and you wonder, “Was that an angel?”
A little over 4 weeks ago I attended a weeklong kirtan camp at the beautiful Blue Spirit Retreat Center on the Nicoya Peninsula on the Pacific coast of Costa Rica. Our kirtan leaders were Jai Uttal- musician and singer extraordinaire and always wonderfully down to earth and accessible, Vishvambhar Sheth- an incredible drummer and a multi-instrumentalist who grew up in the Hare Krishna tradition and plays the flute like Lord Krishna himself, and Jai’s son Ezra who sat quietly on the stage accompanying and free soloing on the melodica as cool and easily as if he were spreading warm butter on a piece of toast! So, there’s a lot to say about kirtan camp and I haven’t even begun. But I am saving that for another day.
What I want to share is a story about what happened the day I got back. I was flying in to the Atlanta International Airport, which is actually considered to be the busiest airport in the world! Up until this trip I had never flown directly out of there- I had only had layover stops there as I always found it easier to drive from western NC to one of the smaller airports in the area. But a couple of my friends told me that I could park outside of Atlanta at one of several train stations and take MARTA, the metropolitan transport service, straight to the airport. I was so nervous about it that a couple of weeks before I left my friend Janice and I went into Atlanta together by train so I could find out where to park, which train to take, where I would be getting off, etc. We made a day of it, first going straight to the airport and then took the train back out first stopping at the Martin Luther King Jr. Center, followed by a great local diner where we had lunch and eventually making our way back to North Springs where we had left the car. It all seemed very easy and I was relieved and felt confident about the upcoming trip. The train would go straight to the airport without any changes and then straight back to North Springs when I got back to Atlanta from Costa Rica.
A week later I took the train from North Springs to Atlanta, exactly as planned- easy peasy! And another week later I got back from Costa Rica and arrived in Atlanta…
And walked… and walked… and walked… Customs must have been at least a half mile away from where I got off the plane. I’m not sure how long it took for me to get to baggage claim and customs but it felt like forever! Eventually I got through that, and then took a very long bus ride to get to the train station, the entire time worrying that I was going to the wrong place. I hadn’t had to do that before- but I guess the International Terminal is also quite a ways from the train station. I finally got there. My flight had gotten in at 7:30 pm and I thought it would be easy getting to the train and I would be on the road by 8:30 for my two-hour drive home, but it was now well after 9- and it was Saturday. It was the weekend schedule which meant fewer trains were running. This time I was going to have to get off the train at the Lindbergh Center and transfer. Okay, fine.
I got on the train and sat close to the front so I wouldn’t miss my stop- exhausted by now as we had already sat on the train for a good 20 minutes before it left the station. The train started and a female robo-voice said, “The next station is Airport.” WHAT?! Okay, I knew that had to be wrong. We went a little ways and I noticed that the digital sign was not lighting up when we reached the next the stop. I guess people were just supposed to know where we were? We stopped briefly, some people got on or off and then, as we pulled away, again the robo-voice said, “The next station is Airport.” Now I’m getting really nervous. I asked the person in the seat in front of me where we were going. It was definitely the direction I wanted to go so that was a relief- but I had no idea which stop was Lindbergh since the signs weren’t lighting up and Robo Lady just kept repeating her mantra, “The next station is Airport.”
I had noticed a man in one of the seats right up front who had an empty seat beside him. I thought maybe if I moved up I could see the station signs out the window as we arrived and be able to tell which station we were at, so I decided to move next to him. Another level of discomfort. Would he think I was weirdo that I was moving up to sit next to him when there was an empty seat right next to me? But he had a nice face, light brown skin and was well-dressed in a business suit. He looked like he might know where he was going. I said to him that I was going to the Lindbergh Station and didn’t know where to get off. He said, with a slight accent, that he was getting off there too. He then said that he couldn’t believe how inefficient it was- that there were people on the train who worked for MARTA and why didn’t they say anything or report the problem? I had heard from my friends how great and easy it was and now this man was saying how inefficient and dysfunctional it was and he seemed very familiar with the whole thing.
He was very kind and said I could follow him when it was time to get off. It turned out he was also transferring. Now it starts getting interesting. We began an easy comfortable conversation. I told him I had just flown in from Costa Rica. He had been somewhere visiting one of his daughters. I had a guitarlele in a case with me- a small 6-stringed instrument basically like a miniature guitar, in between a ukulele and a standard guitar. He saw the case and asked me if it was a racquet of some sort- tennis? Badminton? I told him, no- it was a instrument and explained. He asked what kind of music I played.
I had by this time discerned that his accent was likely from India so I thought I would answer as if he might know what I was talking about- which not very people would. I told him I had been at a retreat in Costa Rica where we were doing kirtan as well as some yoga. He seemed both surprised and curious. At some point in the midst of this he said, “3 more stops.” We got to our stop, which I would never have known had it not been for him, and he guided me on to the other train and then we continued our conversation. He showed a great interest in the retreat and asked if the food was vegetarian. I said, for the most part yes, but they did serve fish a couple of times for those who wanted it. He then told me he was a Brahmin and had never touched meat or alcohol in his life. We talked a little bit about mantras and I mentioned in the context of the conversation that I had studied the very basics of Sanskrit- the alphabet, pronunciation and Devanagari- the written lettering. He asked if I had heard of the Gayatri Mantra- I said yes and he told me his grandfather used to chant 108 repetitions every morning. He told me for him it takes too much time so he only chants it 3 times each morning!
He was such a lovely person. At some point he said he could not believe that I was talking to him about things like kirtan, mantra and Devanagari. It all felt wonderfully auspicious and magical. When we got to the other station, our final destination, there was more confusion. Fortunately we were parked on the same floor of the parking garage but when we went to pay our tickets to exit the garage the kiosk was out of order. Now we were going to have to pay at a different exit. I was absolutely clueless as to how to navigate any of this! He said, “Don’t worry. I will show you where to go.” He said he would wait in his car for me to pull up behind him and he would guide me to the other exit.
I thanked him profusely and was about to walk to my car when I remembered that I didn’t know his name. I turned back around and said, “Wait! Wait! What’s your name?’ and he told me, “Murti.” And I told him that I am Rosie and thanked him again with hands in prayer. Ahhh, Murti! Of course… the Sanskrit word for the statues representing different deities that are placed on the altar.
I got in my car and followed him to the exit, my mind blown. I had left kirtan camp that morning but the magic had not left. Looking back and writing this now, I wondered (only for a moment) which deity he was and the answer came right away- Ganesha, the remover of obstacles.
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