The Lesson of the Snake Charmer
The subliminal respite derived from one's pride in well accomplished deeds manifests itself in the scorpion, the soul, as well as the entire countenance of an individual. Yet the opposite is also proven true. As a woman with a mustache less copious and symmetrical than her sisters' feels intense public humiliation when visiting the marketplace with her well-furred siblings, so do we all when confronted with our deficiencies, perceived or otherwise. The following story will seek to bind these wounds and serve as a balm to ease the care that weighs us all down at one time or another.
   It was then many long years ago, in 1630, in the city of Agra, that a marvelous sight first appeared. In what is now the Republic of India, in Uttar Pradesh on the banks of the Jumna River, the Shah Jahan built from the finest white marble, a tomb, the fabled Taj Mahal, for his beloved. The city of Agra drew many visitors then, as it does now, who come to marvel and comprehend the famous structure, shining like a well-polished tooth in the rays of the tumescent and velvety moon.
   Due to the increased commerce and constant tide of pilgrims visiting the holy site, Agra became, and still is, a great hub for those seeking an audience for their skills and arts. Foremost among these is the fakir, a man who has taken a vow of poverty and vushar (inanity), which he daringly displays in acts of extreme danger or discomfort, or komparnalesh (extreme silliness). This could take the form of piercing the body and its many appendages, prostrating oneself on a bed of nails, ingesting dangerous nonfood items such as glass or kerosene, or the much-favored and crowd-pleasing feat of snake-charming.
   It is no surprise then that the snake charmers of Agra are world famous for their well-trained, but highly venomous and deadly cobras; and no charmer was ever more revered and honored than my erstwhile disciple, Prodhur. So admired was he that it grew difficult for him to traverse the thronging streets of Agra. Daily he was accosted and hailed by townsfolk and travelers alike, hoping for a small display of his manly power.
   Yet a sudden and unforeseen tragedy struck Prohur one day. He had taken up his position, as was his wont, outside the Taj Mahal and an expectant crowd had gathered to witness his majestic cobra dance. He smiled and winded his flute as he had done many times before, but his snake, on rising from the basket, became limp and irresolute. No matter how the unfortunate man tried, he could not make his snake stand up, blow as he would. He stroked it, caressed it, choked it and shook it, but to no avail. Finally, stuffing his flaccid and dysfunctional reptile back in his basket he hurried into the streets and raced for home, the jeers and catcalls of the disappointed crowd echoing in his mortified brain like the wails of a new wife unbedded on her wedding night.
   As the red-faced and much chagrined Prodhur neared his destination, however, he was stopped mid-stride by an elderly man, heavily cloaked and hooded despite the closeness of the summer Agra night. He drew the snake charmer to him, and looking quickly both ways, whispered in his ear, "Leave the great city, take your snake, and go to our now deserted sister village, Ajharov-by-Agra, my friend. In this ghostly hamlet lies the solution to your mortifying trouble." Saying this he disappeared like a mist into the night.
   Seeing no other recourse, the humbled Prodhur did as instructed, leaving the great city of Agra and making the short journey to the less noted Ajharov-by-Agra. On entering the empty village, all was quiet, and terrifyingly dark, as it was now past the midnight hour. Rounding the corner of the deserted street, he found himself in the town square, a small area with an ancient well in its center. Immediately, the mysterious old man was at his elbow. "Dip you snake in the well, my friend, and its strength will be restored as that of a youth," he whispered in an anxious and fetid voice. This he did, and almost at once, the snake became erect and formidable. With many thanks Prodhur began to bless the old man, but again he had vanished and was never more seen in Agra or Ajharov-by-Agra.
   The next day Prodhur took up his accustomed place outside the shrine and his snake danced as if it had been reborn. The onlookers threw flowers and praised the charmer to the gods as the maidens blushed and giggled among themselves. Prodhur was restored to honor and his snake danced erect the rest of his days. And it is still a proverb among the charmers, "The cure for a reptile dysfunction is found in Ajharov-by-Agra."

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Dolphins, reincarnation, New Age, philosophy, humor, poetry, teaching, ascended masters, fish, Baba, crystals, spirituality, karma, India, idiots, Akiryon Baba Yat, The Dolphin Sky Foundation, zen, transcendental meditation, past lives, fish, satire, religion, religious satire, sufism, cetaceans, Hinduism, Sikhism, Buddhism, Eastern religions