CHAPTER 20
The Directors of the Tibetan Buddhist Learning Center in New Jersey, the state next to the monastery’s home state of Pennsylvania, had given Brother Francis a commission.
“Would you stop by and see our Master when you are in Dharmsala?” they both asked. “He took over after our original Master left his body. He lives on the top floor of a place called the ‘Green Hotel.’ The building is located along Boxer Road, within walking distance from where you mention that you will be rooming.”
Andre and Brother Francis set out for a long walk. They wanted to see the sights and also to find the Master of their friends from New Jersey. Brother Francis also wanted to find an Ayruvedic doctor and experience a wellness treatment from him or her.
They walked along Boxer Road and there on the right was the Green Hotel. Here they were on the other side of the world, with vague directions, and they actually found what they were looking for. Francis sometimes had trouble doing that in his own neighborhood!
Andre offered a back-handed compliment: “That’s pretty good, Bro. You have difficulty finding your way around your own home town and often joke about how your sense of direction is not the best. Here in India you simply follow some inner muse and, wham, you get results!”
“Thanks my friend. Luck had more to do with this find than anything else.”
They entered the hotel and found themselves in a large dining room. When they asked for the Master they were told that he and a few other monks occupied the top floor of the building.
“Just walk up about four flights and you will be on the roof. Several rooms are built upon the top of the building and the monks are there.”
The travelers trudged up the outdoor concrete stairs. When they got to the top there was a large roof-top patio, complete with a variety of colorful flowerboxes. A tall monk in his late sixties came out from behind a screen door and greeted them.
Brother Francis explained that he was sent by the Directors of the Tibetan Buddhist Learning Center in New Jersey and wanted to say hello to the Master if possible.
He was told that the Master was giving a private teaching to another monk but that he would see what could be done. Within a few minutes Andre and Brother Francis were escorted into a large room where an older monk was seated on a raised platform and a younger monk was seated on a cushion on the floor. Both smiled warmly at the two Westerners.
Brother Francis explained his mission. The “hello” took only a few minutes. Although the Master was not a great Master of the English language, it was clear that he understood what was being said.
He gestured with his hand to a large yellow glass bowl full of hard candy. Brother Francis and Andre each took a few pieces and got the message that the audience was over. They bowed deeply to the Master and waved good bye to the younger monk who was still quietly sitting on his cushion on the floor.
“We are meeting lots of wonderful people, don’t you think, Andre?”
“Agreed, my brother. What a glorious trip! Let’s walk on a little farther and see what else is happening along Boxer Road.”
They took their time, stopping in a shop or two here or there as they felt led, then Brother Francis saw it—an Ayruvedic doctor’s office. He and Andre went in and unintentionally broke up some sort of a card game. Everyone left but the doctor.
“How can I help you, friends?”
“I’m a Catholic Christian monk and naturopathic doctor from the States. I specialize in Asian medicine and enjoy good health. Would you have a wellness treatment to offer me?”
“Certainly, for your friend also?” He looked at Andre.
“Andre has some classes he is planning on attending so is not as free with his time right now as I am.”
“Very well. Please come back tomorrow morning at ten and we will spend several hours keeping you well.”
The next morning Brother Francis took a brief cab ride back to the Ayruvedic doctor’s roadside office. He was greeted warmly and then the doctor began to walk out the front door.
“Where are you going, Doctor?” asked the monk.
“Why, to the treatment center. This is just the office.”
They walked across the road and down a grassy slope. After about five minutes they came to a large flagstone patio, complete with a small shrine to Lord Shiva, and a row of about eight treatment rooms. Two little children and a young woman were out enjoying the beautiful day at the far end of the patio. These people, presumably, comprised the family of the doctor.
Brother Francis sat on a stone bench near the shrine while the doctor prepared the treatment room. The sound of running water came from the concrete room, along with some metallic clanging.
What is he planning on doing to me?
After about ten minutes of preparation, Brother Francis was called in. The room was bare with the exception of a treatment table, a pressure cooker on a Bunsen burner, and a bowl of warm oil simmering on a low flame. A narrow rubber hose was attached to the lid of the pressure cooker.
In the West when someone goes for bodywork of any sort, standard procedure is to fill out a medical history form and sign a paper stating that nothing inappropriate will occur during the session. Then he or she is left alone to disrobe to the client’s degree of comfort, and drape oneself in a towel.
Francis looked around and asked what to do.
“Hang your clothing on that nail.”
So much for formality.
He disrobed and laid face down on the dark green vinyl-covered metal treatment table “clothed with the sky” as they say when speaking of a naked Indian saddhu or wandering beggar smeared with ashes.
The table was not nearly as uncomfortable as it appeared to be. The warm oil penetrated deeply into the traveler’s sore muscles spreading warmth and comfort into his very soul. Heating oil was such a simple thing yet made such a big difference.
The session felt safe and comfortable and lasted about an hour and one-half. Thinking that they were through, Brother Francis began to get up but the doctor simply pushed him back down.
The Indian medicine man picked up the faded red hose from the pressure cooker and slowly and carefully began to spray the mind-altered monk inch by inch. The unusual sensation was profoundly relaxing to psyche as well as body—except for the rare occasion when a sputter of scalding water would emerge from the hose along with the steam and land on the patient’s tender and exfoliated skin.
The doctor concluded the treatment and left the treatment room about two hours after they began. Brother Francis slid off the table and helped himself to a fluffy green towel.
He walked back to the rooming house peaceful and grateful. Following Christ had led him to many wonderful lands and cultures. Each experience taught him more about himself, others, and Christ.