The Dalai Lama's Cat and the Power of Meow (The Dalai Lama's Cat 3)

“Stay with it!” Ani Drolma reached over, squeezing her hand again. “Stay with that ‘nothing’ and see what happens.”

“You mean it changes?”

“The experience of it changes. Most definitely. You don’t think all those years I spent alone in a cave were for some kind of endurance feat, do you? An exercise in masochism?” She chuckled.

For a long time I had wondered just why Ani Drolma and others like her felt inclined to solitary retreats. The yogis who passed through His Holiness’s office didn’t seem like hardened types. While there was often a strength about them, there was always an amazing openness, too. I was intrigued to learn directly from Ani Drolma how this came to be.

“Initially, your own mind may seem like nothing more than an inert void, merely the background to your thoughts. But the longer you are able to abide with mind, the more you begin to experience its qualities. How it has the nature of clarity, and light. How, more and more, we feel a sense of tranquility, of well-being. Perhaps we start off thinking that meditation is a cognitive exercise, but we discover it is as much about a feeling, a state of being. Our primordial consciousness has no boundaries, its natural state is one of radiance and abiding bliss. When we experience it, we no longer think of ourselves as being just this.” She pointed to her own body. “We realize that our true nature is altogether different.”

Serena contemplated Ani Drolma’s words for a long time. “Thank you so much,” she said eventually. “It’s a real privilege having the chance to speak to someone with your meditation experience.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you, Serena,” Ani Drolma replied. “I hope you will persist with the practice yourself.” Then, as Serena nodded, she added, “Our only job is to let go of all the agitation obscuring our own mind. To abide in its pristine nature. This is very useful—not only in formal meditation but when we’re dealing with difficult situations.”

Now, from the veranda, we heard Mr. Patel start up his van. A few seconds later it made its way slowly up the driveway and toward the gates. I watched Serena looking down at the discarded ice-cream wrappers. Her breathing was regular, her demeanor relaxed. I felt sure she must be following Ani Drolma’s instructions, letting go of the many thoughts arising from the builder’s revelations.

After a while she said, “Zahra wanted to see the fountain at the bottom of the lawn. Perhaps you should show it to her before it gets too late.”

Sid stood, holding his daughter’s hand in his own, and flashed a look of gratitude toward Serena. I knew her suggestion was a way of giving he and Zahra time to be together, an opportunity to talk about what had happened.

Being a cat, I wanted to join them.

Zahra leaned against her father as the two of them walked down the lawn and away from the house. A short distance behind them, I watched as Sid hugged her to him reassuringly.

“What is it, my darling?” he asked when, after a while, she had said nothing.

“Granny.”

It was a while before he spoke. “What’s going on between Granny and me goes back a long way, my petal, you know that. It has nothing to do with you.”

They continued walking. Finally she said, “I heard about her making trouble for Serena. And little Rinpoche.”

“How did you know about that?”

“One of the waiters at the café was talking about it. He didn’t know I was listening. Why does Granny hate Serena so much?”

“She hasn’t ever met Serena. She doesn’t know her, so she can’t hate her. Not personally.”

“Granny’s always so nice to me. I just don’t know why she’s being so mean to you and Serena. And Rinpoche.”

Sid squeezed her shoulders. “Oh, I think we can look after ourselves. And your relationship with your granny is quite separate.”

“But that’s just it,” Zahra said as she tugged away from him. “I don’t think it is.”

“Why?” Sid glanced down at her. She looked miserable.

“She forced the builder to make these delays so you can’t move into the house. I think it was so that you would agree to let me spend part of next holiday with her.”

They had been heading toward the fountain, but instead Sid turned toward a copse of fir trees at the side of the property. “Did she say that to you?”

“No,” Zahra shook her head. “But I think it has to do with the secret.”

“So . . .” Sid halted. “That’s why you were asking me about keeping secrets?”

As Zahra brought her hands to her face, tears began to trickle through her fingers.

Once again, Sid put his arms around her and held her closely to him.

“You are my little petal, and I am your father. You’re too young to have to keep secrets from me. Not big secrets. Little secrets, like what we’re buying for birthday presents—that’s different. But if it’s something important and it involves you, I am still responsible for you.”