Veronika Decides to Die (On the Seventh Day 2)

"What's the point of that?"

"I'm not quite sure, but our group has resolved to investigate all prohibited experiences. All my life, the government taught us that the only purpose of searching for a spiritual meaning to life was to make people forget about their real problems. Now tell me this: Wouldn't you say that trying to understand life was a real problem?"

Yes, it was, although Veronika wasn't sure any more what the word "real" meant.

The man in the suit--a Sufi master, according to Mari--asked them all to sit in a circle. From a vase he removed all the flowers but one, a single red rose, and this he placed in the center of the group.

"You see how far we've come?" said Veronika to Mari. "Some madman decided it was possible to grow flowers in winter, and nowadays, throughout Europe, we have roses all year round. Do you think even a Sufi master, with all his knowledge, could do that?"

Mari seemed to guess her thoughts.

"Save your criticisms for later."

"I'll try to, although all I have is the present, and a very brief one too, it seems."

"That's all anyone has, and it's always very brie

f, although, of course, some people believe they have a past where they can accumulate things and a future where they will accumulate still more. By the way, speaking of the present moment, do you masturbate a lot?"

Although still under the effects of the sedative she had been given, Veronika was immediately reminded of the first words she had heard in Villete.

"When I was first brought here and was still full of tubes from the artificial respirator, I clearly heard someone asking me if I wanted to be masturbated. What is all that about? Why do you people spend your time thinking about such things?"

"It's the same outside; it's just that here we don't need to hide the fact."

"Was it you who asked me?"

"No, but I think that, as far as pleasure is concerned, you do need to discover how far you can go. Next time, with a little patience, you might be able to take your partner there too, instead of waiting to be guided by him. Even if you have only two days to live, I don't think you should leave this life without knowing how far you can go."

"Only if my partner is the schizophrenic who's right now waiting to hear me play the piano again."

"He's certainly nice looking."

The man in the suit interrupted their conversation with a call for silence. He told everyone to concentrate on the rose and to empty their minds.

"The thoughts will come back, but try to push them to one side. You have two choices: to control your mind or to let your mind control you. You're already familiar with the latter experience, allowing yourself to be swept along by fears, neuroses, insecurity, for we all have self-destructive tendencies.

"Don't confuse insanity with a loss of control. Remember that in the Sufi tradition, the master--Nasrudin--is the one everyone calls the madman. And it is precisely because his fellow citizens consider him insane that Nasrudin can say whatever he thinks and do whatever he wants. So it was with court jesters in the Middle Ages; they could alert the king to dangers that the ministers would not dare to comment on because they were afraid of losing their positions.

"That's how it should be with you; stay insane, but behave like normal people. Run the risk of being different, but learn to do so without attracting attention. Concentrate on this flower and allow the real "I" to reveal itself."

"What is the real "I"?" asked Veronika. Perhaps everyone else there knew, but what did it matter: She must learn to care less about annoying others.

The man seemed surprised by the interruption, but he answered her question.

"It's what you are, not what others make of you."

Veronika decided to do the exercise, concentrating as hard as she could on discovering who she was. During those days in Villete, she had felt things she had never before felt with such intensity--hatred, love, fear, curiosity, a desire to live. Perhaps Mari was right: Did she really know what it meant to have an orgasm? Or had she only gone as far as men had wanted to take her?

The man started playing the flute. Gradually the music calmed her soul, and she managed to concentrate on the rose. It might have been the effect of the sedative, but the fact was that since she had left Dr. Igor's consulting room, she had felt extremely well.

She knew she was going to die soon, why be afraid? It wouldn't help at all, it wouldn't prevent the fatal heart attack; the best plan would be to enjoy the days and hours that remained, doing things she had never done before.

The music was soft, and the dim light in the refectory created an almost religious atmosphere. Religion: Why didn't she try going deep inside herself and see what remained of her beliefs and her faith?

The music, however, was leading her elsewhere: Empty your mind, stop thinking about anything, simply be. Veronika gave herself up to the experience; she stared at the rose, saw who she was, liked what she saw, and felt only regret that she had been so hasty.

When the meditation was over and the Sufi master had left, Mari stayed on for a while in the refectory, talking to the other members of the Fraternity. Veronika said she was tired and left at once; after all, the sedative she had been given that morning had been strong enough to knock out a horse, and yet she had still had strength enough to remain awake all that time.