CHAPTER 1: VASANA DAHA TANTRA§
Coming to Terms with The End of a Friendship§
“Hey there. I’m Nate,” declared the young man as he confidently pulled up a chair beside Diane, Ramya’s best friend since first grade. Diane threw Nate a coy smile. “Hi, Nate. I’m Diane, and this is my friend Ramya.” §
Nate glanced in Ramya’s general direction with a cursory “Hi.” Then he turned back to Diane, who obviously enjoyed his attention. Ramya, uncomfortable with their flirting, looked down at her lunch, trying not to listen. She didn’t know it then, but this was the beginning of the end. For Ramya and her closest friends, high school was a strange new world. §
Back in middle school, they called themselves the BIRDS, an acronym from their names, Beth, Irene, Ramya, Diane and Shiran. It seemed then they would stick together for life. Even some of their teachers called them the BIRDS. They would giggle when Mr. Donaldson came over as they were talking during class and ordered them to “Stop chirping!” They did everything together—Drama Club, weekend shopping, the school band, jewelry making and more. But soccer was the big one. For three years they played together on the community team. §
Queens, New York, is America’s most diverse place, and the BIRDS were a reflection of that: Ramya the Hindu, Irene the Catholic, Diane the non-practicing Episcopalian/agnostic, Shiran the Jew and Beth the Unitarian. They didn’t give much thought to their religious differences until Irene’s last birthday party. When she shared how much she missed her grandpa, Ramya innocently remarked, “Don’t worry, he will probably be reborn in your family one day.” §
Irene snapped back, “Catholics don’t believe in reincarnation. It’s heaven or hell for us, Grandpa included.”§
Beth jumped in, “Some Unitarians believe in reincarnation. It’s not that crazy an idea.”§
“Who can prove that heaven and hell exist at all?” Diane challenged. “People just made up those ideas to scare their kids into behaving.”§
“Most people don’t know it, but even many Jews accept the idea of reincarnation,” Shiran interrupted, offering an olive leaf. “But I don’t think we should keep talking about this. People get into screaming arguments over religion, and I don’t think we want to go there.”§
“Agreed,” Irene said. “Sorry, Ramya. Let’s not let religious differences tear us apart.”§
From that moment, they agreed to disagree and focus on similarities. The next year, when a Pentecostal girl on their soccer team tried to get a Christian prayer going before the game, the BIRDS successfully stood together against it, even though three of them were Christians. The incident strengthened their exclusive group even more. §
By anyone’s standards, Ramya was a strong Hindu. Her life revolved around the family’s daily morning puja, which she tried never to miss. She kept a picture of Ganesha on the wall in front of her desk and almost every day sought His guidance. The high point of her week was attending the temple on Bowne Street with her family every Sunday. Hundreds of Hindus would crowd the temple for the grand Ganesha puja, and over the years she had made many friends there. They would gather afterwards in the downstairs dining hall for a savory South Indian lunch, treating each other as brothers and sisters. In that culture, flirting, like Diane and Nate were doing now, just wasn’t cool.§
A hint that Ramya’s life was about to change came even earlier, when Shiran opted for a Jewish high school where she could study Hebrew. She confided to Ramya that she might even become a rabbi. Ramya and the three other BIRDS chose the public high school. It was massive, with five feeder schools, so there were many new faces. Ramya recognized a few kids from the temple, but no one close.§
The first few weeks went well. The girls signed up for most of the same classes so they could stick together, though Beth took more art classes. The comfort of friends helped offset the unfamiliar surroundings and people, but of course nobody referred to them as the BIRDS anymore. Even among themselves, the old acronym fell out of use. Shiran was gone, without whom they would be “the BIRD,” and that didn’t work. §
Things might have gone better if the girls hadn’t been in so many classes together. Ramya got off to a good start, scoring high on the first tests, especially in math. Diane practically flunked those tests but didn’t seem to mind—much to Ramya’s puzzlement. In middle school, Diane had always done well. Clearly something was different.§
Even their beloved soccer started to drive a wedge between the girls. They all joined the freshmen girls’ team, but only Ramya qualified for the first string. Years of Bharatanatyam dance training had made her fit and agile. Diane was the better player in middle school, but she had spent the last summer hanging out instead of practicing.§
The big change started with a “b”—as in boys, not BIRDS. Diane was cute, and right away the junior boys, like Nate, started chatting her up and asking her out. Ramya didn’t attract the same interest. She was pretty, but studious and reserved. Ramya thought the boys Diane attracted were pretty boring, and a few were downright stupid and irritating. She felt more comfortable with the boys she knew from the temple. Like her, they were concentrating on their studies rather than dating. She and her mother had discussed the hazards of getting involved at this age; plus the boys-and-girls issue had come up during youth classes at the temple. Ramya understood the wisdom of placing her time and energy now into education and learning new skills.§
Just two days after Nate boldly introduced himself, Ramya arrived in the cafeteria to find Diane, Beth and Irene all crowded together at a table with him and several other junior boys—not at the girls’ usual table. Not wanting to join them, Ramya ate lunch by herself. Later she confronted Diane in the hallway: “What was up with lunch today? Aren’t we sitting together anymore?” §
“You can join us if you want. Nobody’s stopping you.” §
“But I don’t like those boys.”§
“Fine. Suit yourself,” snapped Diane. “But I’m telling you. Boys can be a lot more fun than girls. It’s part of growing up. Take a look around, Ramya. You see couples everywhere.” §
Then she walked off. §
“Wow, that was cold,” thought Ramya.§
Over the next few weeks Beth and Irene gradually cut Ramya out altogether, too. As things evolved, the two former friends would brazenly turn and walk away when they saw Ramya coming down a hallway. §
The final blow came when they all unfriended her on Facebook on the same day. Devastated, Ramya ran to her mother. “Mom, they all hate me! What happened?”§
“I don’t know,” Ramya’s mom replied gently. “Kids change when they get into high school. It happens.”§
“But I didn’t do anything!”§
“Sometimes you don’t have to. From what you’ve said, they’re taking up different interests.” §
Talking with mom helped a bit, but Ramya was quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the evening. She was still miserable the next morning. §
“Are they bullying you at school, those girls?” Mother asked over breakfast.§
“No, Mom, nothing like that, they just shut me out. Won’t talk to me, won’t even look at me. It hurts so much. We were so close. Mostly they want to hang out with boys, and I don’t. At least I don’t think I do.”§
The school had a strict policy against bullying. At the first school assembly the principal explained it clearly and firmly: “We do not tolerate bullying here. The first time it happens, you talk to me. The second, I talk to your parents. The third, you’re suspended, and the fourth, I permanently expel you from this school!” The kids knew he was serious. The policy had been instituted two years earlier when a boy killed himself after being constantly bullied. The principal expelled the next three students—two girls and a boy—who repeatedly bullied others. When the kids finally realized he meant business, the bullying mostly stopped. Some thought it was a badge of honor to get hauled to the principal’s office for a “talk,” but no one wanted to risk getting expelled.§
It would have been easier for Ramya’s parents if it was bullying, because then they could involve the school. But this wasn’t bullying in the traditional sense. It was shunning, which was equally hurtful, but the school couldn’t do anything about that. They couldn’t tell the students who their friends should be. Ramya’s parents felt helpless. They knew such things also happened in India, but neither parents nor schools had effective solutions there either. §
As weeks turned into months, Ramya’s depression deepened. “Why did they do this to me?” she must have asked her mother a hundred times. “Why me? I wish things could go back to the way they were.” §
Not surprisingly, her school work was suffering; and she was cut from the soccer team for missing practice. No one wanted to be around her, she was so miserable. Many nights she cried herself to sleep.§
One night at dinner, Mom announced, “Guruji is coming to town, and I’ve invited him over for dinner on Tuesday. Ramya, I want you to talk to him about what’s happening in school.”§
Ramya wasn’t enthusiastic. “Do I have to? Now? How’s that going to help?”§
“We’ll find out, but that’s what I do when I have a problem I can’t solve. I ask our Guruji.”§
Tuesday evening Guruji arrived, accompanied by one of his young swamis. He sat on the living room couch, while Mom, Dad, Ramya and the swami sat on the floor. §
Mom spoke first, “Guruji, Ramya has encountered some problems at school.”§
He turned to Ramya kindly, “I noticed something was amiss, Ramya—you look upset inside.”§
“It’s nothing; just problems with friends.”§
“Hmmm, looks like more than that. Something is really wrong. Down there, by your solar plexus, there are dark colors in your aura.” Guruji pointed at her stomach, and Ramya felt her solar plexus churn. It was an odd feeling, like Guruji had physically touched her hurt feelings, just as one might touch a sore finger, causing one to jump.§
“I.... I don’t understand,” stammered Ramya.§
“What happened? Something has really changed,” Guruji said in a loving voice.§
Suddenly Ramya found herself pouring out the whole story, crying most of the time, while her mother held her hand. At the end she looked at Guruji pleadingly. “What did I do wrong?”§
Guruji reflected for a few moments on what Ramya had told him. “You didn’t do anything except be you. Your friends betrayed you. They hurt you, and that was wrong. Small wonder you’re as upset as you are. You know how if you eat something that doesn’t agree with you, sometimes you throw it back up?”§
“Yes, ugh!” Ramya had to smile at the question, and her mood improved just a bit.§
“Getting hurt by others is like that. You’ve taken something into your subconscious mind that you can’t digest, something that actually harms you. You could even call it mental poison. That’s what I see in your aura. When I see someone’s aura, it is like looking at a hologram; I can see inside their body. Your emotions have color—even sounds. Those hurtful emotions just sit there in your subconscious mind, clouding your thinking and causing constant emotional pain. Some people get physically sick from negative emotions like that.”§
“So, I need to mentally vomit?” Ramya laughed.§
“Something like that!” Guruji smiled, pleased that Ramya was taking his insights so well.§
“Perceptive girl,” he thought to himself, and then said aloud, “I’m going to give you an assignment called Vasana Daha Tantra. Your parents have done it, and your mom can help you with it. I want you to write down two pages every day for the next month, telling everything that happened between you and your friends, good and bad, and burn those pages in the fire.”§
“What good will that do?”§
“It causes all those emotions in your subconscious to come back to the surface. At first, they will upset you again, but that’s OK. Before long you will stop feeling upset and start gaining insight into why things happened the way they did. That insight, which comes from your soul, will help resolve your hurt memories and ease your pain. I call it do-it-yourself Hindu magic—better than any psychiatrist, and it’s free, except for paper!”§
The next evening Mom joined Ramya at the fireplace. She brought a stack of paper. They labeled two sheets for each day of the month, sixty sheets in all.§
“That’s a lot of writing,” sighed Ramya, as she stared at the pile.§
“That’s not so much. Your dad and I had to do over 500 pages each! It’s easy if you approach it one day at a time.”§
“What should I write?”§
“Whatever you want. But once you’re done, burn the papers right away in the fire. You can even write the same thing over and over again.” §
And that’s just what Ramya did, one full page filled mostly with:§
“I hate Diane. I wish she wasn’t so mean to me.”§
and a few lines of §
“I hate you, too, Irene and Beth!”§
Then she took the lighter, lit the corner of the papers, and watched them burn in the fireplace. §
“One page to go,” she thought. “I don’t know what good this is doing.”§
Mom smelled the smoke from the kitchen. “How’s it going?” she asked, offering Ramya a plate of cookies. Knowing how upsetting the process could be, she kept a close eye on her progress. She never read anything Ramya wrote—that was her daughter’s private business—but she was never far away. Vasana Daha Tantra was not something to be done in a casual manner.§
“I told Diane I hate her a hundred times!”§
“That’s a start. Now write her a letter.”§
“And give it to her?”§
“No, no. Say everything you want to say, and then burn it.”§
“OK.”§
Dear Diane,§
I remember the first time I met you. It was in Grade One, and you sat behind me. Right away I liked you. You were so funny, and so much fun to be around. I remember the day Miss Johnson scolded us for talking too much in class. I felt bad about that because I felt it was my fault. I remember the day you invited me to your house after school, and I just went, not really realizing my parents would be all worried. Then when they called the school, the secretary said I had gone home with you, so they called your home. Back then we were just two little kids having fun.§
Later that year we asked Shiran and Irene and Beth to join us. We formed our own little club and played together all the time at recess. I had Mom invite all of you for my birthday party. She baked a cake and served some Indian snacks. I remember how much we laughed when Irene found the spices too hot and went running for a glass of water, but then spilled it all over on the way back to the table. We had fun then, didn’t we?§
Love, Ramya§
“That was strange to write,” thought Ramya. “We liked each other so much, and now I hate her?”§
Ramya burned that one, but kept writing.§
Dear Diane,§
In Grade Four we all joined soccer. You were our team’s best scorer for all those years. I liked being a defender because I could watch you score. I remember the time I decided to run forward after the ball when nobody was there. Then I passed it way over to you, but kept going. You could have taken a great shot, but instead you passed it back. That was the first goal I ever scored in soccer. It was all because of your unselfishness.§
I also remember the time you lied about drawing on the bathroom wall at school. I knew you did it but I didn’t tell anyone, because you were my friend. Friends don’t tattle on each other. Later we snuck back in there and tried to wash it off, but it was ink, and we couldn’t do it. The janitor lady came in and you told her how sorry you were. She didn’t tell on us either because she realized we already felt bad about it.§
Ramya§
Ramya started to sob. The nostalgia of all those great times growing up was too much. It was a weird feeling, like being at a funeral, saying goodbye to something you’ll never see again. As the tears flowed freely, she felt her mom’s hand on her shoulder. “You know, Dear, you can take a break when it gets really rough. I remember when I did it there were times I just couldn’t write anymore. I felt like all the tears going on the paper were going to prevent it from burning. That was my signal to take a break.”§
Ramya stood up and hugged her mother. Together they made it to the kitchen table, tears flowing freely from both of them. Finally, Ramya got it together enough to say, “I think I could just lean over the fire and put it out with the tears.” Together they laughed and talked about the next time they planned to go visit friends in India. Eventually Ramya said, “Thanks, Mom, for just being you. I think I’m ready to give it another go.” When she got back she re-read what she had written. Suddenly she thought, “Diane was a bit of a sneak, wasn’t she? And a liar, too. I would never have written my name on that wall.” She had never stepped back before to really think about her friend’s behavior. §
The next day at school Ramya was in a better mood. As Guruji had predicted, she had gained insight into her own feelings and reactions, as well as those of others. Observing from a distance, she suddenly realized how insecure Diane really was. “That’s why she wants those boys around,” Ramya thought. “They make her feel wanted. Her parents are divorced, and I know her home life isn’t as positive as mine is.”§
The next evening she began again:§
Dear Diane,§
Then in September it changed. I really don’t know why, but you started ignoring me. I know you found new friends a lot quicker than I did. You always did have more of an outgoing personality than me. Maybe I was a bit jealous of your new friends. You and Irene and Beth seemed to want to hang out more with other kids. I felt hurt by all that. I really was surprised. I guess I had this fairy tale dream in which the five of us would be friends forever. But that didn’t happen.§
The first time I noticed something had changed was at lunch when you were sitting with the junior boys and didn’t want me there. That really hurt! You could have been kind about it, but that isn’t like you, is it? ´Cause you’re just a mean, nasty person—you don’t really care about anyone except yourself!§
And about those boys, you were so flattered they were paying attention to you, a lowly ninth grader. If they were anything special, don’t you think they would be talking to some of the junior girls instead of you? You were the best they could do, that’s what was really happening. You’re so stupid!§
Your former friend, Ramya§
“Sure glad Diane isn’t going to read that letter,” Ramya thought as she burned it up. “But look at me—talking like that. I can be just as mean as Diane. I should think about that.”§
A few days later at school, Ramya watched as Diane and Irene nearly got into a fight with some of the junior girls, apparently over Nate and his friends. “Wow,” she thought to herself, “it might have been a blessing in disguise to get kicked out of their group.” §
And so it went. Ramya wrote about good times and bad times, anger and forgiveness, sometimes the same thing over and over, two pages a night, up in flames and gone forever. And she continued gaining insight—seeing into people and their motivations more clearly each day. §
After a couple of weeks the writing started to change. Ramya became more perceptive about her friends, her life so far and herself. She wrote to Diane, to Irene, to Beth (who hadn’t really been so mean) and even to her teachers, as she realized how kind most of her teachers were. For some reason her visits to the temple seemed more meaningful as she went through a kind of cleansing process inside.§
Dear Diane,§
We had a tight little clique, didn’t we? I like to think we weren’t like those other groups of kids in school, with their tight, close friendships and their wall of meanness toward other kids. True, we weren’t mean much—but sometimes we were, like when Katlin wanted to hang out with us. She was so totally out of place with our group! But then what’s the difference between us not letting her in and you pushing me out? We weren’t nice to her. §
And what’s with me letting the group treat Katlin like that? Here I think I’m somebody special, someone who wouldn’t be so mean and cold to a person who wanted to be my friend. But I did just that, didn’t I? And why do I need to be in a clique anyway? To make me feel special? We five girls got together, declared ourselves the best and then kept everyone else out. How silly is that?§
Ramya§
“Mom,” began Ramya the next morning at breakfast, “I realized something last night while I was writing.”§
“What was that?” Mom asked as she poured Ramya some orange juice.§
“Here I’m all upset because the girls kicked me out of our special little clique, but I created that clique just as much as the rest of them did. And we did it by not letting anyone else join. In fact, we even pushed other girls away, and not always so kindly. So why should I complain when I get pushed out? It’s a karma I created myself.”§
Mom smiled. “That’s insightful, Ramya. That’s the wonderful thing about Vasana Daha Tantra—how it brings that kind of insight into our personalities. Well done.” §
Finally, on the thirtieth day, Ramya wrote:§
Dear World,§
People grow up, people change. I changed. I had friends who were not as much like me as I thought, and I got hurt. I can’t change them, but I can change me, and I’m doing it. I helped create that exclusive little clique, and then I got tossed out of it—my bad!§
I’m smart, I’m hard working, religious and a good dancer and soccer player to boot. Maybe I’m even pretty. Whatever. It’s my life, my friends, my school career, and I’ll make it work for me. No more being at the mercy of others!§
Ramya§
The next day in the cafeteria she noticed a new but vaguely familiar face by the lunch counter. She had to think for a moment but then realized where she had seen her. Yes, it was Shanti, the girl she saw recently at the temple. Just then Beth came up behind Ramya and asked if she could join her for lunch. §
They sat down together, and Beth explained that now she, too, had been pushed out by Irene and Diane. They talked for some time, reconnecting after many months. “You look happy,” said Beth. “I was worried about you. What changed?”§
“I got depressed after the three of you dropped me. It really got to me, more than it should have. But our family guru gave me a remedy. He had me write down everything that was bothering me and burn it in a fire. Sounds strange, but it worked. I did it for thirty days, and by the end I was no longer upset and depressed, plus I had gained some real insight into my life.”§
Beth looked at her with amazement. “Wow! That sounds just like what we do at my church, only we call it the Burning Bowl Ceremony. Once or twice a year everyone writes down a problem, and we all go up one by one and burn the papers.”§
“That’s interesting,” Ramya responded. “So we do have some similarities.”§
Beth’s expression turned serious. “That’s not the only similarity. You remember, back in September, when Diane and Irene and I cut you out?”§
“How could I forget?”§
Beth’s eyes were unwavering. “Well, I just have to get it off my chest. I am really, really sorry about that. I should have gone with you instead of them. I had to have a couple hard lessons, but you saw it right away. Bottom line is, I’m way too young to get involved with boys. I mean, I like boys and all that, but I’m only fourteen! And those older boys were just trying to take advantage of us. I really do want to study hard and get into a good college. My mom has convinced me to not waste my time on boys right now.”§
Ramya smiled. “It’s okay, Beth. Don’t worry. We all have our lessons growing up. And I forgive you. Come on, I’m hungry. Let’s eat.” §
Just then, Ramya looked over and noticed Shanti standing by herself, looking around for a place to sit. “Is it okay if I ask someone to eat with us?” Ramya asked.§
Beth gave her an odd look, “Why not? It’s not like it’s us BIRDS against the world anymore, you know.”§
“That’s right, and no more cliques for either of us. We’ll make our circle of friends just as wide as possible!”§
Ramya got up and walked over to where Shanti stood looking lonely and uncomfortable. “Hi. I’m Ramya. I saw you the other day at the Ganesha temple. I should have said hello then, but so many people were there on pilgrimage during the holidays.”§
“Yes, I remember you,” replied Shanti. “We just moved here from Cincinnati—my parents wanted to live close to a temple. I don’t know anyone at this school.”§
“Come join us at our table,” said Ramya.§