#the secret of agra

[calaisreno]

WIP Wednesday: The Secret of Agra by Calais Reno

Yes, I'm still working on this! I'm hoping to post before the end of the year. Meanwhile, here's another excerpt:

His heart beats, slow and steady. No internal racket, just calm. Aware of every movement, checking for adverse reactions, he walks around the sitting room. Other than the piles of books, nothing appears out of place. He pulls the curtains aside and looks down into the dark street. No cars or cabs, no pedestrians. London is asleep.

Too quiet. Inexplicably calm. The wrongness of this sits in the pit of his stomach, cold and curdled. Whatever is wrong, it’s been that way for a while.

Tea will help. The kitchen is tidier than usual, which says he hasn’t been doing any experiments for a while. He wonders what he has been doing. Once the kettle is filled and set to boil, he reaches into the cabinet and grabs his mug, the plain white one with the chipped rim.

The mug John always uses, the one with the RAMC emblem, is there on the shelf. He takes it down with his own mug, stands at the sink looking at it. John always makes the tea. It’s not that Sherlock can’t sort out pouring hot water over a bag of PG Tips. It isn’t quantum physics. But this is their mutual habit: John has always made the tea. And John isn’t here now. What’s odd is that this is just now dawning on him.

Where is John?

Still holding the mug, he exits the kitchen, walking out onto the landing.

As he looks up the stairs at John’s door, darkness settles on him, malevolent and cold.

[theyungihven]

Kashmir To Kanyakumari

↬ Genre : romance, comedy

↬ pairing : seonghwa as rahul (shahrukh khan) and reader as Meena (deepika padukone)

↬ Synopsis : Meena, an agra girl, travelling to tamil nadu for her cousin's wedding meets Rahul, a delhi boy on the train with whom she first fights then becomes close enough to share one of her darkest secrets.

↬ Author note : i wanted to do something different so i wrote my version of chennai express with roles reversed with north city girl and south village boy seonghwa. hope yall enjoy!!!

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Attention dear passengers, Navyug Express 16688 which is bound from kashmir to kanyakumari has arrived on platform number 4

There is a rush, a weird sensation in my stomach. I can’t fumble it around nor untangle it but it tells me, something big is going to happen today. 

I swing my bag back onto my shoulders which keeps falling down as I search for my carriage on this huge pan-indian train. I love to travel, watching people and their stories unfold with the place reminds me that things around us do matter and that everything has a significance because without influences, we would just be empty pots of clay in various shades of earth. 

In the middle of the monologue, I find my carriage and now embark on another quest to find my allotted seat. It goes well and I reach my seat. I place my luggage above and make myself comfortable on my seat before dozing off. 

I wake up to my bladder full which is the after effect of drinking too much Maaza in the hot summer. So I decide to visit the bathroom only for the train to stop when I'm emptying my bladder. 

I sigh, hearing the sound of the passengers echoing and make up my mind to get slapped in the face by them on my way back to my seat. After going through a couple of elbow nudges and accidental slaps on the face with luggage as expected, I reach my seat which is occupied? by a girl looking out of the window, lost in time and space. “Excuse me? Woh mere seat hai(that’s my seat).” I say, pointing at her. 

She looks up at me, confusion crowning her face as she then checks the seat number. “Sorry, woh left aur right gadbad hojati hain (I’m bad with my lefts and rights).” she replies in her Luckhnowi accent and my heart skips a beat. I bet she’s a poet. 

She gets up from my seat and goes to sit on her own. “Aap baith jaiye(please sit).” she gestures with her hand and places her luggage above us before sitting down on my seat. 

“Hi, Rahul!” I say, forwarding my hand for her to shake.

“Meena.” she says as her lips pull into a sweet smile and she tilts her head then lets go of my hand before awkwardly looking out of the window. I notice her ears and cheeks being graced with a coral pink shade and I can't help but bite back a smile.

“So, which station is this?” I ask her 

“Agra, kyun? Did you miss your stop?” she asks, looking at me sceptical with her eyebrows irked.

“No no, I'm going to madurai.” I say and she raises her eyebrows. “I was just asking because I slept-” she doesn’t let me finish and interrupts me.

“madurai? I'm going to Tamil Nadu too!” She cuts me off but I brush it off because she looks genuinely excited about us going to the same state.

“After getting on at the delhi station” I finally complete my sentence as I sigh thinking that there's finally someone who talks either more than me or as much as me. “Why are you going to in Tamil nadu? I am visi-” 

“I have a wedding to attend.” she cuts me off again but it doesn’t matter this time too because she’s too cute talking that it might be rather rude to interrupt this woman.

“Your cousin?” I ask, because if it were her sister then she’d be travelling with her family right now.

“Nah, it's my elder sister. But she is my cousin practically, anyways.” She says in such disappointment that it makes me want to crack a joke to make her smile but before she starts speaking again but this time in a much angry tone. “The guy is a complete idiot and doesn’t even know the difference between saunf and jeera. Like gobi jaisi toh shakal hai ladke ki(the groom looks like a cabbage).”

“God!” I laugh at her comparison of the guy with a cabbage.

“What? At Least i’m being honest! If you give me even a hundred million rupees, I won't marry his brother!” She says and it makes me laugh so hard that I need to stop breathing to avoid choking on air.

“Is his brother that bad?” I ask in amusement.

“I heard he’s some surgeon in Delhi who is never home cuz he's a travel freak.” Her description sounds a lot like me but who isn’t a doctor and traveller these days? And what are the possibilities of it being me? zero?

“Not bad” I comment and she looks at me like I stole a little kids candy.

“Not bad? I heard he’s so egoistic and boast about his achievements and changes girlfriends every week.” She complains and the more she says about the guy, the more I’m convinced that it isn’t me whom she’s talking about.

“Oh god!” I gasp dramatically trying to match her energy and it works because she giggles at my reaction. “I bet he’s a fuckboy who has no respect for women!”  I add in, like fuel to the fire.

“Exactly, who would even marry him?”

“I wanna meet him now” I say and the look she gives me sends chills down my spine. God those kohl filled eyes are just heavenly!

“Why? He's such a kamina” shes says the borderline curse but it sounds so cute rolling off her lips as she huffs.

“Well, getting new girlfriends every week is a skill. I need to learn something from him.” I get smacked on my head by her hand upon saying this.

“You’re such a MC.” she says and i look at her in disbelief. Did she just curse at me?

“Machhar(mosquito)?” I ask her, even though I completely understood when she first said it but I tease her a little because her reactions are just so cute.

“What? Yeah, a machchar(mosquito)." She agrees with calling me a mosquito.

“Why am I a mosquito now?” 

“I don’t know why I said that.” she says smiling and looking down, tearing her gaze away from me.

“Cute” I mumble, the words flowing past my lips but not reaching her ears.

She looks out the window as the sun sets down and reflects over the water as well as passes through the bridge over a river. 

I stand up and she looks at me in surprise. “I’m just taking my bag, don't worry.” I chuckle.

“Not funny.” she says and goes back to her people watching. “Do you have snacks?”

I burst out laughing and she pouts and I swear I can see her eyes tear up. 

“I just asked if you have something to eat.” she says, still pouting.

“You sound like a kid, asking if I have games on my phone.” I grab two packets of chips from my bag and zip it back up before sitting down on my seat.

“Well, everyone calls me a kid so nothing new.” she huffs. 

“Here,don’t cry.” I say as I give her the chips packet and ruffle her open hair which makes her smile. But that smile disappears when she realises what I did and her reaction to it, and gets embarrassed over it as her cheeks turn red again. 

“Don’t scold me but you look like a north indian.” She adds, tearing her packet of chips.

I sigh, “I get that a lot.”

“People are so stereotypical in India, it's tiring.” she sighs too, looking out of the window. What did she mean by that?

“That sounded personal.” i say because the amount of emotion she said in the sentence earlier was a bit too suspicious. 

“Because not every poet has had heartbreak or is in love.” she says, with a hint of sadness that raises an eyebrow.

“You’re a poet?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

“Hmm…” she pretends to not answer.

“Urdu?”

“Both, english and urdu”

“Can I ?”

“Sure. let me take out my notebook, wait”

‘I can even wait a century, if it’s for you.’ I hum in my mind.

“So” she flips the pages “jo apne hi nahi, unse dukh baant na, kisi khudgarz ki dil par dastak dena hota hain”

“Care to explain? My urdu is weak”

“So basically those who are not our family or people that care about us, sharing your emotional burden with them is equal to loving a narcissist”

“Damn. you did hit my heart with an arrow!”

“The cupid’s bow?”

“I- i mean-” i am speechless at the sudden flirtatious comment. She keeps her diary inside and pulls out another book which has urdu written on the front page. Maybe a poetry collection. 

“Now if you excuse me, I need some personal space.” she asks politely and I cannot even deny her.

“Yeah sure sure, I won't disturb you.” God, this woman is doing things to me.

Time passes by and we chat, share food, walk around when the train stops for longer on a station until I get off the madurai station but a few days later I meet her at a wedding in Kodaikanal only to find out that the groom she was complaining about is my brother so technically I’m the brother whom she was calling a playboy.

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 4) Chapter Twelve

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Twelve: Confrontational Reunion

Summary: Sherlock, (Y/N), and John track down Mary. Ajay does the same.

            “Agra?” said Mycroft, raising a brow.

            After Sherlock and (Y/N) had recovered from Mary’s escape—apparently it would be good to assume in the future that she always had some sort of weapon or drug on her—they had quickly gone to first tell John and then go to Mycroft for information. Then, they could find Mary. She was a talented agent, but they weren’t going to let her disappear.

            “A city on the banks of the river Yamuna, in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, India,” said Mycroft. “It is 378 kilometers west of the state capital, Lucknow.”

            “What are you, Wikipedia?” said Sherlock.

            “Yes,” said Mycroft smugly.

            “AGRA’s an acronym,” said (Y/N).

            “Oh, good, I love an acronym,” said Mycroft. “All the best secret societies have them.”

            “Team of agents, the best,” said Sherlock. “But you know all of that.”

            “Of course I do, go on,” said Mycroft.

            “One of them, Ajay, is looking for Mary, also one of the team,” said Sherlock.

            “Indeed. Well, that’s news to me,” said Mycroft.

            “Is it?” said (Y/N), narrowing their eyes. “Since their last job was for the British government, we thought you might know a bit more about the situation.” They smiled and tilted their head.

            “They’re getting fast,” said Mycroft, smirking at Sherlock, who grinned. Mycroft looked back at (Y/N). “AGRA were very reliable. Then came the Tbilisi incident. They were sent in to free the hostages, but it all went horribly wrong. And that was that. We stopped using freelancers.”

            “Your initiative?” said Sherlock.

            “My initiative,” said Mycroft. “Freelancers are too wooly, too messy. I don’t like loose ends. Not on my watch.”

            “There was something else,” said Sherlock. “A detail. A codeword.” He wrote it down.

            “Ammo?” read Mycroft.

            “It’s all we’ve got,” said Sherlock.

            “But it was just heard over the phone, so spelling could vary if it means something,” said (Y/N). In the world of spies and assassins, all possibilities had to be considered.

            “Could you do some digging, as a favor?” said Sherlock.

            “You don’t have many favors left,” said Mycroft smugly.

            “You owe me,” said (Y/N).

            “For what?” said Mycroft.

            “Magnussen,” said (Y/N).

            “I had to keep Sherlock from being exiled for that,” said Mycroft.

            “Yeah, but that was because other people wanted him kept alive, not you,” said (Y/N). They leaned forward. “So even if the British government doesn’t owe me, you do.” They smiled. “Would you help us, please?”

            Mycroft hummed. “Sherlock, they’re becoming quite impertinent.”

            “I know. I’m proud,” said Sherlock, smiling at (Y/N), who smiled at him.

            “However…say you do find who’s after her and neutralize them, then what?” Mycroft looked intently at his brother. “You think you can go on saving her forever?”

            “Of course,” said Sherlock.

            “Is that sentiment talking?” said Mycroft.

            “No, it’s me,” said Sherlock.

            “Difficult to tell the difference these days,” said Mycroft.

            “Told you, I made a promise. A vow,” said Sherlock, gaze hard and set.

            “Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” sighed Mycroft. “But remember this, family mine.” For all the sentiment insults, (Y/N) was considered a Holmes by Mycroft as much as by anyone else. “Agents like Mary tend not to reach retirement age. They get retired in a pretty permanent sort of way.”

            “Not on my watch,” said Sherlock.

            … (Y/N) glanced down, and their fingers twitched for a lollipop.

l

            (Y/N) leaned back with their eyes closed as the Moroccan heat baked the entire house they were in despite the shade. They were used to London air—which lacked sun so often that no one remembered it existed.

            Sherlock was playing a board game with a boy, Karim, who had given them some water while they waited for Mary to arrive.

            “You haven’t got a chance. Not a chance,” he said. “I got you where I want you. Give in, give in. I will destroy you. You’re completely at my mercy. Mr. Baker. Well, that completes the set.”

            “No, it is not,” said Karim.

            “Well, who else am I missing?” said Sherlock.

            “Master Bun. It’s not a set without him,” said Karim. “How many more times, Mr. Sherlock?”

            Sherlock’s luck with board games continued to be poor. “Hmm, maybe it’s because I’m not familiar with the concept.”

            A woman walked around the corner and stared in astonishment at the gathering. It was Mary, holding a gun, not having expected them at all.

            “Oh, hi, Mary,” said Sherlock.

            “Hello, Mary,” said (Y/N).

            “What concept?” said Karim.

            “Happy families,” said Sherlock. He looked back at Mary. “Nice trip?”

            “How the f—”

            “Please, Mary, there are children present,” said Sherlock.

            “I’ve heard and seen worse,” said (Y/N).

            “Still a child,” said Sherlock.

            “How did you get here?” exclaimed Mary.

            “Karim let us in,” said Sherlock.

            “Hello,” said Karim.

            “Karim, would you be so kind as to fetch us some tea?” said Sherlock.

            “Sure,” said Karim, rising and heading to the door.

            “Thank you,” said Sherlock.

            “No, I-I mean, how did you find me?” said Mary.

            “We’re Holmses,” said (Y/N).

            “Really though, how?” said Mary. “Every movement I made was entirely random. Every new personality, just on the roll of a dice.”

            “Mary, no human action is ever truly random,” said Sherlock. “An advanced grasp of the mathematics of probability mapped on to a thorough apprehension of human psychology and the known dispositions of any given individual can reduce the number of variables considerably. I myself know of at least fifty-eight techniques to refine the seemingly infinite array of randomly generated possibilities down to the smallest number of feasible variables.”

            Mary nodded.

            “But that’s super hard, so we just put a tracker on the flash drive before we met you,” said (Y/N), straight to the point.

            “Oh, you bastards,” said Mary, beginning to laugh.

            “Yeah, but your face,” said Sherlock, grinning.

            “ ‘The mathematics of probability,’ ” said Mary.

            “You believed that,” said Sherlock.

            “ ‘Feasible variables,’ ” said Mary.

            “He hadn’t practiced any more lines,” said (Y/N).

            “In the memory stick,” groaned Mary.

            “Yeah, that was my idea.” John stepped into the room.

            Mary looked at him, and her smile turned somber.

            “We need to talk,” said John.

            Mary nodded.

            “AGRA,” said John.

            “Yes,” said Mary.

            “You said it was your initials,” said John.

            “In a way, that was true,” said Mary.

            “In a way?” repeated John. He shook his head. “So many lies.”

            “I’m so sorry,” said Mary.

            “I don’t just mean you,” said John.

            “What?” said Mary.

            “Alex, Gabriel, Ajay. And you’re R,” said John.

            Mary nodded.

            “Rosamund?” said John.

            “Rosamund Mary,” said Mary. “I always liked Mary.”

            “Yeah, me too,” said John. He smiled, but it fell. “I used to.” He stood and turned away.

            “I didn’t know what else to do,” said Mary.

            “You could have stayed. You could have talked to me,” said John. “That’s what couples are supposed to do. Work things through.”

            Mary nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She looked down, knowing she had been in the wrong.

            “Mary, I may not be a very good man,” said John. “But I think I’m a bit better than you give me credit for. Most of the time.”

            “All of the time,” said Mary. “You’re always a good man, John. I’ve never doubted that You never judge. You never complain. I don’t deserve you, I…All I wanted to do was keep you and Rosie safe, that’s all.”

            “I will keep you safe,” said Sherlock. “But it has to be in London. It’s my city, I know the turf. Come home and everything will be alright, I promise you.”

            A red dot appeared on John.

            “Get down!” shouted (Y/N).

            Mary’s reflexes were quick, and she pulled John to the ground as a loud “Bang!” shattered the night. More gunshots followed as the group found cover, Sherlock pulling (Y/N) close protectively. Ajay kicked the doors of the hotel open and came in, gun still cocked. Mary pulled hers and shot at him. The two circled each other before ending up behind columns in the wall.

            “Hello again,” said Ajay.

            “Ajay,” said Mary.

            “Oh, you remember me, I’m touched,” sneered Ajay.

            “Look, I thought you were dead. Believe me, I did,” said Mary.

            “I’ve been looking forward to this longer than you can imagine,” said Ajay.

            “I swear to you, I thought you were dead,” said Mary. “I thought I was the only one who got out.” She held out her gun to Sherlock, and he took it. Now Ajay wouldn’t know who had it.

            “How did you find us?” said Sherlock.

            “By following you, Sherlock Holmes,” sneered Ajay. “I mean, you’re clever. You found her, but I found you, sir. Perhaps not so clever. And now here we are. At last.”

            Sherlock shot the light, and they were thrown into darkness.

            “Touche,” said Ajay, now having a harder time figuring out where they were.

            “Listen, whatever you think you know, we can talk about this, we can work it out,” said John.

            “She thought I was dead,” scoffed Ajay. “I might as well have been”

            “It was always just the four of us. Always, remember?” said Mary.

            “Oh, yeah,” said Ajay.

            “So why do you want to kill me?” said Mary.

            “Do you know how long they kept me prisoner?” said Ajay. “What they did to me? They tortured Alex to death. I can still hear the sound of his back breaking. But you, you, where were you?”

            “That day, at the embassy, I escaped,” said Mary.

            “Ha!” scoffed Ajay derisively.

            “But I lost sight of you, too. So you explain, where were you?” said Mary, buying for time.

            “Oh, I got out. For a while,” said Ajay. “Long enough to hide my memory stick. I didn’t want that to fall into their hands. I was loyal, you see. Loyal to my friends. They took me, tortured me. Not for information. Not for anything except fun.”

            (Y/N)’s gaze went to the ground. Even if they didn’t want him to hurt Mary and didn’t agree with going after people without proof, they could understand his pain.

            “They thought I’d give in. Die,” continued Ajay. “But I didn’t. I lived. And eventually, they forgot about me rotting in a cell somewhere. Six years they kept me there. Till one day, I saw my chance. Oh, and I made them pay. You know, all the time I was there, I just kept picking up things. Little whispers, laughter, gossip. How the clever agents had been betrayed. Brought down by you!”

            “Me?” said Mary. He really believed it, just as (Y/N) said.

            A truck passed by, and light circled in. Everyone moved at once. Sherlock handed the gun back to Mary, and Ajay stepped out. They faced each other, guns drawn. John held his own gun at the side, trained on Ajay.

            “You know I’ll kill you,” she said. “You know I will, Ajay.”

            “What? You think I care if I die?” said Ajay. “I’ve dreamed of killing you. Every night for six years. Squeezing the life out of your treacherous, lying throat.”

            “I swear to you, Ajay,” said Mary.

            “What did you hear, Ajay?” said (Y/N). If he would just see sense, then maybe they could stop this situation from escalating. “When you were a prisoner, what did you hear that made you think Mary betrayed you? What exactly?” They needed facts, logic.

            “Ammo,” said Ajay. “Every day, as they tore into me, ammo, ammo. We were betrayed!”

            “And they said it was Mary?” said (Y/N). “They said her name?”

            “Yeah, they said it was an Englishwoman,” said Ajay, still glaring at Mary.

            There. It couldn’t be certain it was Mary. (Y/N) opened their mouth.

            Bang! Bang!

            Two shots from the doorway. Ajay fell. He lay unmoving.

            “No, no!” Mary fell to her knees next to Ajay.

            The policeman who had arrived at the site of the gunshots stared at the scene in front of him. (Y/N)’s eyes softened in sadness. They had been so close.

            But too late all the same.

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[radha-soami]

A Child's Remembrance of Baba Jaimal Singh by Channan Singh - Light and Sound on The Path: Sant Mat Radhasoami Spirituality

A Child's Remembrance of Baba Jaimal Singh by Channan Singh found in, The Soldier Sage of Beas: Glimpses of the Life and Teachings of Baba Jaimal Singh, by David Lane. This account was given in March of 1978 by one of the last surviving disciples of Baba Jaimal Singh Ji (1838 -- 1903).

Below are excerpted a few interesting and informative stories from this collection.

After the Passing of Soami Ji Maharaj Radha Ji Instructed Bibi Rukko to Stay with Jaimal Singh

When Soami Ji died his wife instructed Bibi Rukko to leave Agra and stay with Baba Ji on the banks of the River Beas so as to look after him. Mana Singh came later and served Baba Ji and was his pathi. Baba Ji would sit in meditation for long hours, so someone walked to the Beas railway station to buy chapatis for one rupee. They lasted a long time as Babaji would only eat whenever he came out of meditation. When the chapatis became dry, he soaked them in water and ate them.

Sometimes we were allowed to sit with Baba Ji and he would freely talk to us. He said one day "I will be leaving soon."

We asked, “Leaving for where?”

He replied, “Sipla Dweep, the other world where Sat Purush Soami Ji has ordered me to go.” He was not very old, but then on another occasion he said “Soon I will be leaving my body.”

Bibi Rukko asked, “Where will you continue your work?” 

“In Babu Sawan Singh,” he said.

But Bibi Ji protested. “You are so stout, so big, Sawan Singh is so thin and delicate, how can this be?”

To this Baba Ji replied, “You do not understand.” But Bibi Ji was still inquisitive. Baba Ji kept quiet for some time, then he asked, “Bibi Ji, what have you cooked for lunch?”

She said, “Spinach.”

“Is it still cooking?” He asked. As she said it was.

Baba Ji then said, “Have you put salt in it?”

“Yes, I have.” was the answer. “Have you put rock salt or ground salt in it?”

“Rock salt,” she replied.

“All right,” He said. “Go and look and see if the rock salt is still there.”

She came back and said, “No, the rock salt is not there.”

At this Baba Ji said, “Now do you understand? Just as the salt mixes with spinach, in the same way I shall merge into Babu Sawan Singh.”

But still Bibi Rukko protested.” I will not accept him.” she said.

Baba Ji became displeased and said, “Whoever does not accept Him, hell will be open to him. You will have to accept him -- this is very important.”

Baba Jaimal Would Copy Shabads (Hymns) of Soamiji Maharaj from the Sar Bachan Radhasoami Poetry 

"I've then returned to my own home but after some time I thought I should go to Beas again for Baba Ji’s darshan. When I next saw him I asked him to please write me a prayer, which he did. After eight days I again went to see Baba Ji because I wanted him to write me another prayer.

 "This time he wrote Mangla Charan * by Soami Ji, which starts

 'Whosoever recites Radhasoami Naam

Sails across the ocean of life;

All troubles and strife vanish,

And he abides in a state of bliss.'

 "After a few days I returned yet again and Baba Ji said, 'Child, what is it this time?' I asked for another prayer. This time Baba Ji wrote Dhan, Dhan Pyarey, which is also from Soami Ji’s Sar Bachan, but at the end he asked, 'Are you really learning these Shabds or just taking them?'  

I replied, 'Baba Ji, I learn them on the way home.' Baba Ji was very happy.

 "Next time I went, Baba Ji kindly wrote out another Shabd for me. But after this it was six months before I went again. On this occasion Baba Ji, after making sure that I knew all the Shabds he had given me, said, 'Today I will complete all your work.'

 "I said, 'As you wish, Master.' But then I added, 'Baba Ji, what is the work you will complete?'

 "He replied, 'I will look at Sar Bachan and let you know.'

 "After a little time had passed Baba Ji opened the book at the Shabd 'Listen O friend, I will now tell you the secrets of the inner planes.' He then started copying this and the following four Shabds which give details of all the higher spiritual regions **."

 [Note: *  Manglacharan, a term used for the opening portion of a prayer or sacred text, is at the very beginning of Sar Bachan Radhasoami Poetry, Volume One, by Soamiji Maharaj.]

[Note: ** "Shabds which give details of all the higher spiritual regions", very much the focus of the Sar Bachan Poetry volumes especially the section called Hidayat Namah (Esoteric Instructions).]

Jaimal Had Some Prashad of Soami Ji Stored in a Box Within a Box

But one day Babaji was standing there so I asked him, “Master you have never given me any prashad -- you have never given me any blessed food to eat.”

He said, “Will you be able to digest prashad?”

I answered, “Baba Ji, I cannot say whether I will be able or not. Maybe you will give me a big quantity.”

Baba Ji went into his room, he opened a box, and in this box there was another small box. It contained prashad that Soami Ji had given Baba Ji many years ago. I thought, ‘Probably my share is also there.’

Baba Ji again said, “I hope you will be able to digest it.”

I just said, “This is up to you, for I do not know ifI can or not.” With his two fingers Babaj Ji gave me a tiny, tiny bit. I said, “Oh Baba Ji, this is so little!”

He replied, “You are saying it is little. I am saying it is more than enough if you can digest it.”

I said, “Very well, I will eat it in your presence right now.” With that, I quickly swallowed it, and said, “Baba Ji, there is nothing left in my mouth.”

He laughed, and said, “All right, it is gone into the whole of your body, now if you digest it, it will be more than enough for you.”

Jaimal's Reverence for the Adi Granth (Sikh Scriptures) 

Baba Ji made us sit in the room where the Adi Granth was kept wrapped under a white cloth.

Rare Photo of Jaimal

It is such a pity that there are no photographs available of Baba Ji. Actually, no photographs could ever be taken. Whenever anyone came with a camera, Baba Ji would say, “What will this camera do if I do not wish my photograph to be taken? It depends on my wish whether it can be taken or not.” But I found later on that Hazur had one photograph. One day when Hazur and I were sitting together we had an argument. I said, “I know you have a photograph of Baba Ji, why don't you take it out?”

Hazur replied, “Channa Singh, I did not mean to hide that photograph from you. The photograph that I have is not of the time when Baba Ji was in service.” Then Hazur opened a small box; there were three photographs inside, two of which were someone else, the third of Baba Ji. 

Hazur said, “All right. Which of these three boys is Baba Ji?” I could not recognize him. At this Hazur took them back.

NDE/OOBE

About five years back when I was ninety I became ill. I received Hazur’s radiant form inside, but he did not talk to me. I got up and sat on this couch where I am now sitting, and I called a lawyer, and I made a will. In the evening I started vomiting. My youngest son was called. Both my sons stayed with me until two in the morning. I asked for some herbal medicine made by a local satsangi, and as soon as I took it the vomiting stopped. I told my sons to return to their homes as I felt well again.

I lay down, and as soon as my head touched the pillow my soul went up. I saw some man telling Baba Ji, “True Emperor, your boy has come.”

Baba Ji replied, “Silly fellow, how has he come?”

The man said, “Babaji, he has come by himself. No one has brought him.”

Baba Ji then said, “All right, send him back; but first take him around for about ten minutes, not more.” They made me change into clothes worn in that region, but before they sent me back that fellow made me change into my own clothes again, and took all the other clothes away.

Then he said, “There is your body lying over there, get back into it.”

I said, “Dear friend, I don't want to get back into it, it is so smelly.”

“But this is your own body and you must use it now,” he replied.

“Yes, yes, I know it’s mine,” I protested, “but it smells so bad and I don’t want to go.”

Well, in spite of my protests I just had to get back into my body, and as I was about to leave, this fellow pointed to the shoes I was still wearing. He remonstrated, “Why are you taking the shoes from here with you?”

I replied, “Oh, my friend, I have kept them on because I feel at least I should have something to show the sangat.” He took them off, and made me go back. The next thing I knew was that I was back in my physical body and my eyes were open.

An Earthenware Pot That Kept On Giving

One day, Baba Ji was out walking in his village and he met a Muslim blacksmith. He asked him, “Are you able to make a living?”

 The man replied, “Some days I have enough to live on. Other days I earn nothing.”

 They stopped at the man's house and then Baba Ji said, “Do you have an earthenware pot? He said he had. Babaji then asked, “Do you have any flour? The man said there was none in the house at the moment. “Well, do you have a cover for the pot?” As the man said he had, someone was sent to get some flour and Baba Ji himself placed it in the pot. Then he said, “Keep this pot covered in a dark place and it will give you all the flour you need.” The pot did give flour in as much quantity as was required by this Muslim family right up to the time that in the hurry to escape, he left the pot behind.

 The satsangis of the village used to show the pot to everybody, but after this, the blessing of Baba Ji was withdrawn; it gave forth no more flour.

Archive of All Past Posts With Search Engine: 

https://SantMatRadhasoami.blogspot.com

 

[digitalmarketingcoaching55]

A Tapestry of Heritage: Exploring India's Golden Triangle

Embark on a cultural odyssey through the heart of India as we unravel the enchanting story of the Golden Triangle. Composing the iconic cities of Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur, this journey transcends time, offering a kaleidoscope of history, architecture, and vibrant traditions. Join us on this virtual expedition as we delve into the cultural richness and majestic wonders that define the Golden Triangle.

I. The Heartbeat of Delhi: A Historical Tapestry

Delhi, where the ancient and the modern coexist harmoniously. Explore the remnants of ancient civilizations at Qutub Minar, walk the storied halls of the Red Fort, and witness the architectural marvels that stand as testament to Delhi's dynamic history.

II. Agra's Timeless Elegance: The Taj Mahal and Beyond

Step into the city that houses the epitome of love – the Taj Mahal. Beyond this iconic marvel, Agra unfolds its historical treasures at the Agra Fort and immerses you in the vibrant chaos of its markets.

III. Jaipur: The Regal Palette of Rajasthan

Jaipur, the Pink City, beckons with its regal splendours. Marvel at the Hawa Mahal, explore the opulent City Palace, and witness the celestial wonders at Jantar Mantar. Jaipur's streets narrate tales of valour, while its markets offer a feast for the senses.

IV. Culinary Journeys: Savouring the Flavors of the Golden Triangle

Indulge your taste buds in the culinary delights of each city. From Delhi's street food treasures to Agra's Mughlai cuisine and Jaipur's royal feasts, the Golden Triangle is a gastronomic adventure.

V. Hidden Gems: Beyond the Monuments

Uncover the lesser-known wonders that add depth to the Golden Triangle experience. From the mystical stepwells of Delhi to the historic gems nestled in the outskirts of Agra and Jaipur, discover the secrets that lie off the beaten path.

VI. Vibrant Markets: Shopping Extravaganza

Immerse yourself in the lively bazaars of the Golden Triangle. Delhi's bustling Chandni Chowk, Agra's vibrant Kinari Bazaar, and Jaipur's colourful markets offer a shopping spree filled with traditional crafts, textiles, and artefacts.

VII. Local Encounters: Conversations with Culture

Connect with the locals and witness the living traditions of the Golden Triangle. From traditional art forms to folk performances, engage in cultural exchanges that breathe life into your journey.

VIII. Practical Tips: Navigating the Golden Triangle with Ease

Equip yourself with essential tips for a seamless travel experience. From weather considerations to cultural etiquette, ensure you make the most of your Golden Triangle adventure.

IX. Golden Triangle Tours: Crafting Unforgettable Memories

Discover the convenience and insights offered by reputable tour operators. Whether guided by our seasoned experts or exploring at your own pace, tailor your Golden Triangle tour to create memories that last a lifetime.

Conclusion: As the virtual dust settles on our journey through the Golden Triangle, we invite you to envision yourself amidst the grandeur of historic monuments, the hustle of vibrant markets, and the warmth of cultural exchanges. The Golden Triangle isn't just a destination; it's a living narrative that invites you to be part of India's rich tapestry. Come, explore, and immerse yourself in the timeless allure of this cultural masterpiece.

[lordsrot]

also i need to talk about agra's eight sisters, just a whimsical group of goddesses that cannot keep a single secret amongst themselves

[mariana-oconnor]

The Red-Headed League pt 3

Here I had heard what he had heard, I had seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about to happen, while to me the whole business was still confused and grotesque.

Still don't know whether the plot is clear to me because I'm writing it from my comfortable position in the 21st century having seen a lot of fictional cons like it, or whether ACD deliberately makes Watson unable to put together the clues to make Holmes look better in comparison and to make the reader feel really smart. Probably a bit of both.

On entering his room I found Holmes in animated conversation with two men, one of whom I recognised as Peter Jones, the official police agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat.

'official police agent' is a strange way of putting it, but sure. Also, not quite so rude a description as the past few times, but 'sad-faced' strikes me. Also, the fact that Watson feels the need to point out the shininess off his hat. Is this just Holmes' love of observing details and Watson's attempts to emulate him showing up, or is the hat literally so shiny Watson couldn't help but mention it? Can he see his own face in it.

Also love the detail of the 'oppressively respectable frock-coat.' With Watson you need to walk a fine line of being just respectable enough, but not overly respectable. The full description of Mr Merryweather (ironically named, it seems) puts me in mind of a Tim Burton film. He's got a very gothic caricature vibe.

"We're hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see," said Jones in his consequential way.

It's a double date! How fun.

"I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase," observed Mr Merryweather gloomily.

Live footage of Mr Merryweather trying to retrieve the keys to the bank in time to get to his rubber.

"...he has the makings of a detective in him. It is not too much to say that once or twice, as in that business of the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he has been more nearly correct than the official force."

Your standard 'oh he's an amateur but he does okay, I suppose. And damning with faint praise here 'been more nearly correct than the official force'. I tried to parse that out and the best I can come to is that neither Holmes nor the police was right about the case, but Holmes was less incorrect than the police. Like if they were playing Cluedo and Holmes got the room right and the weapon right, but the police only got the right room. I assume this is a lie and Holmes was actually wholly correct (but maybe didn't catch the criminal as we know he doesn't always bother with this bit...

...unless Holmes as secret sea demigod who is causing shipwrecks just to bring criminals to justice?)

Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my rubber.

I know this means Bridge. I know it does. And yet... it still seems like an innuendo. No wonder Mr Merryweather is so down if he's missing his rubber for this.

"John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger."

Please note how nowhere in that list does it say confidence trickster, fraudster or any kind of grifter. I refuse to believe he is any good at that, for all they are trying to convince me he is a criminal mastermind. Clearly in this con he had to be the front man because the red-headed man had to be at the league, and they were lucky that Mr Wilson was as gullible as he was. Because genuinely 'Victor Spalding' is The Most Suspicious.

He's a remarkable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has been to Eton and Oxford.

Really not that remarkable. Go to the houses of parliament and throw a brick and you'll hit someone answering to pretty much exactly that description. Especially in this era. Sure, Duke is the highest rank of nobility, fi-i-ine, some of them are only related to marquises, earls, viscounts or barons and sometimes it's only by marriage. But seriously. An Eton educated child of aristocracy? It would be more remarkable if he wasn't Eton educated. Oxford, you say? How unusual! Practically unheard of!

There is the indication that he's illegitimate, so it's a little more remarkable, but still not very. I have a sneaking suspicion that there were a lot of illegitimate children of aristocracy running around London at the time, too. The peers of the realm were not well known for keeping it in their pants.

Basically the man is nothing special and I refuse to acknowledge him as such.

"He is not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession. He has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone."

Ah, it's Holmes' turn to be rude. He does tend to leave it for the police. I love how this essentially boils down to 'He's an idiot, but we've done the hard bit, so all we really need him to do is grab the guy'.

"I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said Holmes severely. "You have already imperilled the whole success of our expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?"

Really, Mr Merryweather! It's the naughty corner for you. Sit in the corner and think about what you have done. Tut tut.

Holmes does save up his insults for abusers and people who disrupt investigations.

"We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources and borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France."

Six of which will mysteriously turn up at a later date. 😄

The crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of lead foil.

The naughty corner is a lot shinier than I remember it being.

OMG... The reason his hat is so shiny! His hat is made of gold. He's already stolen some of the napoleons and melted them down to make a hat.

Sorry, I've been in a car half the day and it's been a weird week. My mind is in a very strange place rn.

If they fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting them down.

Feel free to murder, bestie. Totally fine. According to this piece of paper in my pocket, I can absolutely give you permission to do that.

The light flashed upon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes's hunting crop came down on the man's wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stone floor.

Drop it!

The entire set up of this scene is very dramatic. Watson's description of the wait and hearing everyone's breathing, then the sudden action. It's very good. I could have quoted a lot of it, but that would have just been a massive chunk of writing. This story as a whole is a lot more dramatic and active than many of the others. So far we've rarely had Holmes and Watson face the villain like this. There have been a couple of times where they've had conversations. In the Reigate Squires, Holmes was attacked by them off screen and the reader and Watson come upon it later. Oh, and Holmes chases Mary Sutherland's dick of a step-father out of the house, but often there is no confrontation.

This is very satisfying.

Also - bank robbery of French gold. It's just such a satisfying and clean motive as well.

"I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands," remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. "You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have the goodness, also, when you address me always to say 'sir' and 'please.'"

If I had any respect for the man, I would have lost it here. Seriously? Pompous ass. Yeah, yeah, your grandad was a duke. Find me literally anyone who gives a fuck other than you... go on, I'll wait.

"Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question."

His fourteen year old maidservant is very pleased about this. As am I.

Holmes gives a very thorough detailing of every clue and indication. I did miss the bit where he tapped his cane on the ground.

"It saved me from ennui," he answered, yawning. "Alas! I already feel it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence."

Mood.

Nice to have a story with a definitive resolution where the bad guys are caught, the good guys emerge victorious and the only real downside is that Mr Wilson has to fill in a bloody great hole in his cellar. No convenient shipwrecks. No 'well, we can't really do anything about it because technically nothing illegal has happened'. Just a good old fashioned bank robbery foiled by an ambush. Yes. Very satisfying.

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

‘Beloved master, am I wasting energy by looking to occultism as a way to explore inner space?’ Mark, occultism is for stupid people. God is not hidden; God is very much manifested. He is all over the place: singing in the birds, flowering in the flowers. He is green in the trees, red in the roses. He is breathing in you. He is talking through me and listening through you right this very moment. But you don’t want to see the obvious. Man has a very pathological interest in the occult. Occult means that which is hidden. Man wants to be interested in the hidden—and there is nothing hidden! As far as God is concerned nothing is hidden. Just open your eyes and he is standing before you. Be silent and you will hear the still, small voice within yourself. Why go into occultism to explore inner space? Why not go directly into inner space? Occultism is so much nonsense, and there is no end to it because it is all invention. It is religious fiction. Just as there is science fiction, occultism is religious fiction. If you love fictions, it is perfectly okay. But then don’t think that by reading science fiction you are studying science. And don’t believe in science fiction, and don’t act out of that belief; otherwise you will end up in a madhouse. Occultism is exactly like science fiction. People love fiction; there is nothing wrong in it, but you should know that it is fiction. Enjoy, but don’t take it seriously. In Buddha’s time there were eight great masters. Mahavira is well-known—he was the last enlightened master of the tradition of the Jainas. He used to say there are three hells. One of his disciples became a renegade, betrayed him, declared himself to be a master, and he started talking about seven hells. He used to say to people, ‘Mahavira does not know much; he knows only about three hells and I know about seven.’ And naturally people were impressed. Mahavira talks only of three hells and he talks about seven! One great master was Sanjay Belattiputta, another contemporary of Buddha. He must have been a man something like me—nonserious. He started talking about seven hundred hells. He said, ‘What is this Gosalak talking about?—only seven? There are seven hundred, and there are seven hundred heavens too.’ He was joking, but people were very interested. This seems to be the right man, who has gone so deep into occultism. Once a follower of Radhaswami, a small sect which is confined to an area near Agra, came to see me. I was in Agra. He was some kind of a priest, and he said, ‘Do you know?—our master has said there are fourteen planes of existence.’ I said, ‘Just fourteen?’ He said, ‘What do you mean, ‘Just fourteen’? Are there more?’ I said, ‘Certainly.’ He said, ‘But our master has said there are only fourteen. Mohammed has reached only up to the third,’ he said—he had brought a map—‘Kabir and Nanak have reached up to the fifth. And Mahavira and Buddha up to the seventh,’ and so on, so forth. But there has never been another who has reached up to the fourteenth except his so-called master. I said, ‘I know your master. I have seen him struggling in the fourteenth. He is trying hard, but he cannot get out of it. I know it because I exist at the fifteenth. There are fifteen planes of existence.’ He said, ‘But you are the first man…’ And he was much impressed. When he was leaving he touched my feet and he said, ‘You have revealed a new secret.’ I said, ‘Don’t be foolish. I was just joking! There are only two categories of people: the people who are not aware and the people who are aware. The people who are aware have no hierarchy that one is more aware than the other, that somebody is at the fifth, somebody at the seventh, somebody at the ninth, somebody at the fourteenth. There is no higher and lower in awareness. Awareness is simply awareness.’ But he was not much interested in that. He was more interested in my being on the fifteenth plane. People are interested in religious fictions. Mark, don’t waste your time in occultism, unless you are interested in novels, fictions. Then it is okay, then there is no problem… The lecturer on the occult was warming to his subject of supernatural manifestations. ‘Ah, my friends,’ he exclaimed, a look of dedicated zeal animating his face. ‘If you could but be made to believe! If only the world would cease its scoffing and come to realize that visitations from the Mystic Shore happen all the time.’ The lecturer searched the faces in his audience to find those sympathetic souls who agreed with his philosophy. ‘I have told you about my own experiences,’ he continued, ‘but surely one of you has also had direct communication with a departed spirit. If there is any such person here in this audience who has been in touch with a ghost, I would appreciate it if he or she would stand up.’ From her seat in the front row, Mrs. Faigel Frume got to her feet. ‘Me,’ she said loudly. ‘Such a experience I had you would not believe.’ ‘This is very gratifying,’ said the delighted speaker when the applause died down. ‘Behold, a volunteer witness; one who is a total stranger to me, arises to give her testimony. My dear lady, do I understand you to say that you have been in touch with a ghost?’ ‘In touch with him?’ echoed Mrs. Frume. ‘Better even than that. When I was a little girl in Russia one of them butted me till I was black and blue.’ ‘A ghost BUTTED you?’ ‘A GHOST, you said? Gosh! I thought you said a GOAT!’ Don’t waste your time in ghosts and goats. If you want to explore inner space, explore inner space. How does occultism come in? That’s a way of escaping from inner space, not exploring it. That’s a way of keeping yourself engaged in sheer nonsense! And theosophy, particularly in this age, has released so much nonsense: hundreds of books and all kinds of foolish things. People are so gullible that they are ready to believe anything. Man today exists in a kind of vacuum. Old religions have died or are almost dying. Either they have died or they are on the deathbed; hence new creeds are cropping up everywhere, and all the new creeds need new fictions to allure you. I cannot give you any occult fiction. I am not interested in anything esoteric. I am a very down-to-earth man. I am simply stating the facts. I don’t want to decorate them. I don’t want to create illusions in your mind; I don’t want to create projections in your mind. My effort here is to help you to go beyond the mind and all your occultism and esotericism, theology, anthroposophy—and there are so many schools. You can create your own; there is no need to believe in anybody else’s, you can create your own. All that you need is a pencil and paper; you can just go on writing your own fiction. That will be far more enlightening. At least it will be something creative. Then give your copy to somebody, and you will find a few believers. Then you will know how people go on believing in any kind of thing. J. Krishnamurti was brought up by theosophists. He was fed, spoon-fed with all kinds of occultism. He became so fed up that when the theosophists were going to declare him to be the world teacher… The day they had gathered from all over the world—six thousand leading theosophists—when they asked Krishnamurti to declare, he stood up and said, ‘I dissolve this organization. I am nobody’s teacher. I am finished with it all, and I don’t want to say anything more!’ They were shocked, but as far as I see it, it is a logical conclusion. For years he was taught all kinds of nonsense by all kinds of stupid people. He was getting fed up with the whole thing. But old ladies, and particularly retired old people, were very interested. They were the majority of the theosophists—retired people and old ladies who now had nothing else to do—and they would gather and talk nonsense about ghosts and about Tibetan masters who come flying in the air, and about letters that Master K.H… Now nobody knows who this K.H. is. His full name is Koot Humi. That too, nobody knows what it means. The less you understand, the better. Koot Humi—in short K.H.—used to write letters, until finally it was found that those letters were written by Blavatsky herself. A servant used to hide on the roof—just think, just on the roof of Buddha Hall!—and there was a small hole from where, when the theosophists would be sitting with closed eyes waiting for Koot Humi, he would drop a letter. Now, people are so foolish… Just ordinary paper—they could have seen what brand it was, in what factory it had been made—ordinary ink, and the handwriting was Blavatsky’s. Then the letter would be read, and those letters were collected, and they were great treasures. But in the High Court there was a case against one of the great theosophists, Leadbeater. He was a colleague of Annie Besant, and he was suspected of homosexuality. Just a dirty old man, that’s all! So there was a case in the High Court against him, and in that case his servant confessed that he was the man who used to hide on the roof. He went and showed the hole and the place where he used to hide, and everything was discovered. Still, people go on reading those letters believing that Koot Humi wrote them. When people WANT to believe, when they are feeling empty, some belief is needed. They cling to anything, they don’t listen… they don’t listen to their own heart. They just need belief; so anybody is ready to supply it. Wherever there is demand there is supply. People need fictions, so there are other people—clever, cunning people—who go on supplying fictions. In a Catholic school, little Hans was asked to give an example of a dependent clause. ‘Our cat has a litter of ten kittens,’ he replied, ‘all of which are good Catholics.’ ‘That’s excellent,’ said the teacher. ‘You have a good grasp on grammar as well as on our religion.’ The following week the bishop visited the school and the teacher called on Hans. ‘Our cat has a litter of ten kittens,’ said Hans, ‘all of which are good sannyasins.’ ‘That is not what you said a week ago!’ snapped the teacher. ‘Yes,’ replied Hans, ‘but my kittens’ eyes are open now.’ Be a little alert, be a little watchful. There are deceiving people all around; you can be easily deceived. Morrissey, the ventriloquist, was on his way down to a bar for a drink when a big shaggy dog fell in at his side. They went in, the ventriloquist ordered a scotch, and for a laugh he looked at the dog and said, ‘Well, are you having the usual?’ ‘No, thanks, I have had enough this morning,’ said the dog. The barman was flabbergasted. He offered fifty dollars for the animal. ‘No, sir!’ said Morrissey. ‘I have had him since he was a pup.’ ‘I’ll make it a hundred dollars!’ said the bartender. Morrissey shook his head. When the offer went to five hundred dollars the ventriloquist grabbed the money and headed for the door. ‘Alright,’ he added, ‘take good care of him.’ And with a last look at the dog, ‘Farewell, old pal!’ he exclaimed. ‘Old pal, my foot!’ said the dog. ‘After what you have just done I will never speak to another human being as long as I live!’ Be aware of the cunning people, they are all around. Don’t be exploited. Long enough humanity has been exploited by the cunning and the clever; it is time to put a full stop to it. Be a little more mature. If you want to explore inner space, meditate. Listen to what Buddha says: Quieten the mind, reflect, watch, and all darkness will disappear on its own accord, and you will be full of light.

Osho (The Dhammapada: The Way of the Buddha, Vol. 10)

[calaisreno]

Excerpt: The Secret of Agra

He’s wondering how Orpheus got his phone number.

After Sherlock died, he quit working at the surgery and became something of a recluse. His phone number was never on the blog or Sherlock’s website. There are people who have that number— friends, coworkers— but most of them know John well enough not to give it out. After— there were a lot of calls he had to block. He might have requested a new number, and tells himself that he kept the old one because he didn’t want to lose touch with any friends. Reasonable, but not true. He’s been shite at staying in touch this past year, rarely responds to call or texts. 

The real reason is one he hates to admit to himself. Don’t be dead. He still waits for the call that never comes.

And now, it’s not ridiculous, but it does hurt. Sherlock has been alive all this time, but still wants John to believe he’s dead. 

Putting that aside (pointless bitterness), he focuses on the case. It is a case now, his case, to find out where Sherlock is and what’s happened to him. To save him. Then he can be angry with him. 

Tagging: @keirgreeneyes @ninasnakie @totallysilvergirl @7-percent @lhrinchelsea @iamjustreading @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @peanitbear @itzmi @starrla89

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 11 - Peru

I’m going to Peru in about four days time, will be gone for two weeks. – BW

It had been nearly a month since Mycroft had called her, he hadn’t contacted her since then to arrange dinner, mostly because he’d been keeping an eye on the situation with Sherlock and A.G.R.A. He was aware that one of the members was currently tracking Mary but had both limited time and resources to devote to it. People like Mary tended not to last too long, but also if Sherlock was tracking down the Thatcher busts, it probably wasn’t a good thing.

Hiking in the Andes? Or visiting Machu Picchu? – MH

Maybe both. I’ve got two weeks to fill with adventures. Do you have any suggestions? – BW

As previously stated, travelling is not my area of expertise. I’m sure I will be asking you for recommended destinations on your return. – MH

I’m sure you will. – BW

Mycroft frowned at his phone, did he say something wrong?

I’ll not be doing anything too pressing over the next few weeks, nothing that requires my full attention anyway. – MH

If that’s your way of saying “send pics” then I will try to send some when I can. I’ll be visiting my parents, so I will try to be subtle, but they find out everything. You sure you still want photos? – BW

Mycroft smiled down at his phone. Sherlock was due to arrive any minute, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care for a moment.

On second thoughts, I may have one or two things that require my attention. – MH

Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of “what are your intentions with our daughter?” either. Though I imagine you’d be able to come up with some reasonable answer that would satisfy them. – BW

Possibly. Though I’ll admit, it’s not a conversation I’ve had to worry about having with anyone before now. – MH

Really? Now that does surprise me. – BW

Does it? – MH

Bethany didn’t respond immediately and Sherlock had walked through the door of his office, taken a seat and started asking him about A.G.R.A.

I’ll keep it subtle and sneak a couple of cheeky shots when I can. I’ll text you before I leave. – BW

Mycroft smiled again, before putting his feet up and devoting his attention to Sherlock again.

‘She’s going to Peru, isn’t she?’ He asked, Mycroft just took a deep breath and chose not to engage. ‘Visiting her parents for two weeks. Lovely people.’

‘You’ve met them?’ Mycroft frowned.

‘Briefly.’ Sherlock nodded. ‘A few days before I met Beth, they’re good people.’

‘Indeed.’

‘You?’

Mycroft nodded. ‘Yes, her father and I met while he was at Cambridge, he built an aircraft that we now use for sending medical supplies to Africa. And her mother I met when she worked briefly with the World Health Organisation. They are indeed good people.’

‘And do they know about your association with their daughter?’

Mycroft chose not to answer that. He got back to the point of Sherlock’s visit.

‘AGRA, a city on the banks of the river Yamuna in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, India. It is three hundred and seventy- eight kilometres west of the state capitol Lucknow-‘

‘What are you, Wikipedia?’

‘Yes.’ Mycroft smiled, a private joke with himself.

‘AGRA’s an acronym.’

‘Oh good, I love an acronym. All the best secret societies have them.’

‘Team of agents, the best, but you know all that.’

‘Of course, I do, go on.’ Mycroft was enjoying the façade of Sherlock telling him something he thought he might not know, but he really needed him to get to the point and soon.

‘One of them Ajay is looking for Mary, also one of the team.’

Mycroft took a small breath. ‘Indeed. Well, that’s news to me.’

‘Is it?’ Sherlock frowned and Mycroft just gave him a look as if to say of course he knew. ‘He’s already killed looking for that memory stick. AGRA always worked for the highest bidder, I thought that might include you.’

‘Me?’

‘Oh, I mean the British Government, or whatever government you’re currently propping up.’

‘AGRA were very reliable,’ Mycroft said. ‘Then came the Tbilisi incident. They were sent in to free the hostages, but it all went terribly wrong. And that was that, we stopped using freelancers.’

‘You’re initiative.’

‘My initiative.’ Mycroft nodded. ‘Freelancers are too woolly, too messy. I don’t like loose ends. Not on my watch.’

Sherlock leaned forward and grabbed one of the files Mycroft had on his desk. ‘There was something else. A detail. A codeword.’ He scribbled on the edge of the file.

‘Ammo?’

‘It’s all I’ve got.’

‘Little enough.’

‘Could you do some digging as a favour?’

Mycroft smiled. ‘You don’t have many favours left.’

‘Then I’m calling them all in.’

‘And if you can find who’s after her and neutralise them, what then? You think you can go on saving her forever?’

‘Of course.’

‘Is that sentiment talking?’

‘No. It’s me.’

‘Difficult to tell the difference these days.’

‘I told you, I made a promise. A vow.’

Mycroft smiled, he didn’t need to wonder how far Sherlock would go to protect Mary. He’d seen it first hand with Magnusson. ‘Alright, I’ll see what I can do. But remember this, brother mine. Agents like Mary tend not to reach retirement age, they get retired, in a pretty permanent sort of way.’

‘Not on my watch.’ Sherlock was determined and left Mycroft to do the digging he required.

He spent the next few days trying to subtly dig up what he could, all the while keeping an eye on where Sherlock was going.

That’s me off! Machu Picchu here I come! – BW

Beth had sent through a selfie of her sitting on the plane, waiting to take off. She was smiling with her headphones around her neck and her dark eyes were illuminated by the morning light streaking through them. Beautiful.

Hope it’s all you expect it to be, and I hope your parents are well. Stay safe and don’t be afraid to call if any of you run into trouble, I do have some pull with the Peruvian government. – MH

Back to flirting? I’ll keep it in mind. See you when I get back! – BW

Mycroft smiled as he finished getting dressed for the day, unconsciously putting on his navy suit. He wasn’t stupid, his thoughts were firmly on Bethany and that was why he opted to wear it. It was ridiculous, she wasn’t even his, she wasn’t his girlfriend or labelled as anyone significant in his life, she was a woman who he had kissed twice and had a vague association with over the last year and a half. That was all.

Over the two weeks that Bethany was gone, Mycroft was dealing with several things that he wished he wasn’t, Lady Smallwood was in meetings that she needed him to be a part of and most of it was tedious. The only thing that got him through was the occasional message from Bethany, accompanied by a picture of her on her adventures.

Machu Picchu! I reached the summit! Bow before your queen! – BW

Bethany stood at the very top of the citadel with her arms spread out and the sun shining on her tanned features. She just wore her shorts and strapped crop top, why would she have worn anything else? But it had Mycroft quickly putting the phone away to avoid smiling too much at how much fun she was having.

Parents always said I could have a pet, I chose a cat... of sorts. – BW

She was holding a baby jaguar by the looks of things, one that barely looked six months old. Bethany was laughing and Mycroft could see her mother in the background handling a woolly monkey and talking with one of the staff. She looked so similar to her daughter and it was clear where her frizzy hair had come from and her kindness towards all creatures. He wanted to respond and joke about her parents allowing her to have such dangerous animals, but in the interest of subtlety he decided against it.

Peaceful night camping under the stars tonight. – BW

It was by far the most beautiful photo he’d seen of her on her adventures. She wore her cream cable knit jumper, thick black leggings with a camping mug close to her chest. Bethany’s gaze was focused on the setting sun and once again the light streaked through her dark eyes, making them almost look a golden colour under the rays. Stunning.

The last photo he’d received from her was during a meeting with Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin, Mycroft lost focus of what they had been talking about, he didn’t think it mattered so much as they had been disagreeing for the last half hour.

Bailando con mi papa. Homeward bound tomorrow. – BW

Dancing with my dad. She wore a beautiful red dress and sandals and danced with her father who wore a linen white shirt and cargo shorts. Mycroft could see where Bethany got her dark eyes from, her father’s were almost black. They had the same smile as well, but to him, there was more beauty and radiance in hers. They seemed to be in some kind of restaurant with locals and everyone was dancing and having a good time. Mycroft felt his heart swell, to see her so carefree and happy, made him extraordinarily happy as well.

She was coming home the next day. Sherlock was somewhere in Morocco as far as he could tell and everything was starting to slot into place nicely.

‘Sir?’ Anthea interrupted the meeting, not that Mycroft minded, but it seemed to irritate Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin. Mycroft motioned for her to come in anyway, quickly putting away his phone. She handed him a file he recognised and he gave her a fleeting frown in questioning, but she remained silent. When he opened the file, he realised why.

‘Ah.’ He said. ‘Apologies, we’ll have to cut this meeting short. I have an urgent call to make.’

‘Mycroft, you can’t just-‘

‘We can pick this up later, Lady Smallwood.’ Mycroft gestured for Anthea to head out of the meeting room first. ‘Has anyone else seen this?’

‘No, sir, I brought it straight to you.’ Anthea said, quietly.

‘Good.’ He nodded closing the file. ‘Miss Wheeler will be back in the country tomorrow evening, please see to it that she is in my office at seven o’clock sharp.’

‘Yes sir.’ Anthea went to make a phone call.

Mycroft ran his hand over his face, holding the bridge of his nose, she promised him she would stay out of trouble and this did not fall under that brief. How did this not come up in her background check? How did he miss such a fine and damaging detail?

Mycroft prepared himself for the next day, knowing she would probably be annoyed and probably be upset with the situation, he needed to read through everything and try to make sense of the paper in front of him.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

[spiritualawakeningradio]

Solving the Mystery of Tulsi Sahib's Guru (Origins of Sant Mat Series)

"Listen, O Phool Das, I have given out the same true secrets which Sants like Kabir Saheb, Dadu Saheb, Rai Das Ji, Dariya Sahib, Guru Nanak, Soor Das Ji, Nabha Ji and Mira Bai have spoken of. They, too, have composed similar hymns describing the bliss of the highest spiritual region, whose glory I also have sung, blessed by the grace and the dust of the holy feet of Sants." (Ghat Ramayan section of, "Param Sant Tulsi Sahib", Agra, page 148, 1979)

Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast: Solving the Mystery of Tulsi Sahib's Guru (Origins of Sant Mat Series) - Listen, Download, Subscribe @ the Podcast Website:

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Tulsi Sahib (1763-1843) is viewed as being the adi-guru or founding spiritual master, the "great grandfather" of modern-day Sant Mat and Radhasoami. Most all recent Santmat sects trace their lineages directly back to him. Some believe that Tulsi Sahib, the great Saint of Hathras, never mentioned the name of his satguru in the writings that have survived. For them there is no answer to this question of who his initiating Sant Mat guru might have been. In recent years I have established my own view on this subject and have observed that Sant Tulsi did indeed mention the name of his guru on numerous occasions in the way that most disciples typically have done in their banis and bhajans (devotional hymns, mystic poetry). This name has been there the whole time in the English translations of his writings, and there are many more such references to the identity of this spiritual master if one can access and read all of the Sant Tulsi writings available in Hindi. All we need do is notice this particular guru's name as it appears in the various books attributed to Sant Tulsi Sahib of Hathras, India (Shabdavali, Ratan Sagar, Ghat Ramayan and, Padma Sagar).

In Divine Love, Light, and Sound, Sat Naam Saheb,

James Bean

Sant Mat Satsang Podcasts

Spiritual Awakening Radio

https://www.SpiritualAwakeningRadio.com

[holidaytoursdestination]

Discover the Best Travel Destinations in India: A Journey of Incredible Diversity

India is a land of remarkable diversity, where every region tells a unique story, and every corner hides a breathtaking secret. From the majestic Himalayas in the north to the serene backwaters of Kerala in the south, from the vibrant cities of Delhi and Mumbai to the tranquil villages of Himachal Pradesh and Rajasthan, India offers an unparalleled range of travel experiences. Let’s embark on a journey through some of the best travel destinations in this incredible subcontinent.

1. Jaipur, Rajasthan — The Pink City: Known as the Pink City for its rose-tinted architecture, Jaipur is a vibrant blend of history and modernity. Explore the majestic Amber Fort, visit the City Palace, and marvel at the intricacies of Hawa Mahal. Don’t forget to savor the mouthwatering Rajasthani cuisine.

2. Goa — The Beach Paradise: For sun, sand, and sea, Goa is the ultimate destination. Whether you seek relaxation on pristine beaches, water sports adventures, or vibrant nightlife, Goa has it all. Visit Old Goa for a glimpse of Portuguese colonial history and indulge in delectable seafood.

3. Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh — The Spiritual Heart: Varanasi, one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the world, is a spiritual hub for Hindus. Take a boat ride on the Ganges River, witness mesmerizing Ganga Aarti, and explore the city’s narrow lanes and ghats.

4. Kerala — God’s Own Country: Kerala, with its lush green landscapes and tranquil backwaters, offers a serene escape. Cruise through the backwaters on a traditional houseboat, explore tea plantations in Munnar, and relax on the beautiful beaches of Kovalam.

5. Leh-Ladakh, Jammu and Kashmir — The High Desert: For adventure seekers and nature enthusiasts, Leh-Ladakh is a dream destination. Explore ancient monasteries, drive through rugged mountain passes, and bask in the pristine beauty of the Himalayas.

6. Agra, Uttar Pradesh — The Taj Mahal Marvel: Agra, home to the iconic Taj Mahal, is a must-visit for history buffs and romantics. Witness the unparalleled beauty of the Taj at sunrise and explore Agra Fort and Fatehpur Sikri.

7. Mumbai, Maharashtra — The City of Dreams: Mumbai, the bustling metropolis, offers a taste of modern India. Visit the Gateway of India, explore Bollywood, and indulge in culinary delights at street food stalls and fine dining restaurants.

8. Rishikesh, Uttarakhand — Yoga Capital: Nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas, Rishikesh is the yoga capital of the world. Practice yoga and meditation, go white-water rafting on the Ganges, and explore the nearby Rajaji National Park.

9. Kolkata, West Bengal — The Cultural Gem: Kolkata is a cultural treasure trove with its historic architecture, literary heritage, and delectable sweets. Visit the Victoria Memorial, explore Durga Puja festivities, and sample Rosogolla.

10. Andaman and Nicobar Islands — Tropical Paradise: For pristine beaches, crystal-clear waters, and vibrant marine life, head to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. Go scuba diving, explore the Cellular Jail in Port Blair, and unwind on Havelock Island.

India’s diverse landscapes, rich cultural heritage, and warm hospitality make it a destination that leaves a lasting impression. Each region offers a unique flavor of India, and whether you’re seeking adventure, relaxation, or cultural exploration, India has something to offer every traveler. So, pack your bags and get ready to embark on a journey through the best travel destinations in India, where every moment is a new adventure waiting to unfold.

Conclusion:

As you embark on the journey of a lifetime with your beloved, these enchanting destinations present an exquisite canvas. Here at Destination Holiday Tours, we can help you plan holidays at these best travel destinations for honeymoon couples and beyond. Feel free to connect to our team anytime — Ph: 8888849698 / 9822632911

[tempotravellersrent]

Discover the enchanting beauty of Rajasthan with our handpicked selection of the best places to visit. Immerse yourself in the vibrant city of Jaipur, where ancient palaces and bustling bazaars await your exploration. Experience the grandeur of the Golden Triangle tour, which takes you through Jaipur, Agra, and Delhi. From the majestic Amer Fort to the iconic Hawa Mahal, Rajasthan offers a visual feast for history buffs and architecture enthusiasts alike. Uncover the secrets of this culturally rich land as you traverse its desert landscapes and witness the mesmerizing sunset over the Thar Desert. Embark on an unforgettable journey through Rajasthan's best places and create memories that will last a lifetime.

[tajmahaltourguide]

Golden Triangle Tour with Jodhpur | Taj Mahal Tours Agra

Experience the heart of India’s rich cultural heritage with our meticulously crafted Golden Triangle Tour with Jodhpur by Taj Mahal Tours Agra. This immersive journey takes you through the iconic cities of Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur, culminating in the majestic Blue City of Jodhpur. Our dedicated team ensures a seamless and memorable experience, filled with historical marvels, architectural wonders, and vibrant cultural immersion.

Journey Through Time: Exploring the Golden Triangle

Delhi: The Gateway to India

Our tour begins in Delhi, a bustling metropolis where ancient history seamlessly intertwines with modern life. We’ll guide you through the iconic monuments of Old Delhi, including the mighty Red Fort, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and the Jama Masjid, India’s largest mosque. Explore the vibrant Chandni Chowk, a bustling market filled with delicious street food and exquisite handicrafts. Immerse yourself in the grandeur of Humayun’s Tomb, a precursor to the Taj Mahal, and experience the serenity of the Lotus Temple, a modern architectural masterpiece.

Agra: City of Love and Eternal Beauty

Next, we journey to Agra, the city that holds the world-renowned Taj Mahal. Witness the ethereal beauty of this ivory-white marble masterpiece, a testament to Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan’s eternal love for his wife Mumtaz Mahal. Discover the secrets of the Agra Fort, another UNESCO World Heritage Site, and learn about the Mughal dynasty’s legacy. Explore the magnificent Itmad-ud-Daulah’s Tomb, known as the “Baby Taj,” which served as inspiration for the Taj Mahal.

Jaipur: The Pink City

Our journey continues to Jaipur, the vibrant capital of Rajasthan, known as the Pink City for its iconic pink sandstone buildings. Visit the Amber Fort, a majestic hilltop fort with its intricate architecture and panoramic views. Explore the City Palace, a stunning blend of Mughal and Rajasthani styles, and marvel at the Hawa Mahal, the “Palace of Winds,” a unique structure with 953 windows. Experience the bustling bazaars of Jaipur, filled with colorful fabrics, intricate jewelry, and traditional handicrafts.

Jodhpur: The Blue City

Our journey culminates in Jodhpur, a city that paints the landscape with its mesmerizing blue hues. Explore the majestic Mehrangarh Fort, a majestic hilltop fortress that stands as a testament to the city’s rich history. Immerse yourself in the vibrant culture of Jodhpur at the Jaswant Thada, an elegant cenotaph, and visit the bustling Sardar Market, a shopper’s paradise. Discover the enchanting Umaid Bhawan Palace, a luxurious palace converted into a heritage hotel and museum, offering a glimpse into the opulent lifestyle of the Rathore rulers.

Beyond the Highlights: Tailored Experiences

Our Golden Triangle Tour with Jodhpur is much more than a checklist of attractions. We are committed to offering you a personalized experience tailored to your interests and preferences. We provide:

Flexible itineraries: Customize your itinerary to match your travel style, whether you prefer a relaxed pace or a more action-packed schedule. Expert local guides: Our knowledgeable guides will provide fascinating insights into the history, culture, and traditions of each city. Handpicked accommodations: Stay in comfortable and well-located hotels, offering a blend of tradition and modern amenities. Delicious culinary delights: Explore the vibrant culinary scene of each city, indulging in authentic regional cuisines and street food delicacies. Unique cultural experiences: Participate in traditional dance performances, witness captivating puppet shows, or explore the vibrant local markets, immersing yourself in the heart of India.

Our Commitment to Excellence

At Taj Mahal Tours Agra, we pride ourselves on providing exceptional service and ensuring your complete satisfaction. We handle all the details, from booking flights and accommodations to arranging transportation and tours, allowing you to focus on enjoying the journey.

Contact us today to plan your unforgettable Golden Triangle Tour with Jodhpur. Let us create a tailor-made experience that will leave you with memories to cherish for a lifetime.

Embrace the Majestic Journey: Book Your Golden Triangle Tour with Jodhpur Today!

Don’t miss out on this incredible opportunity to experience the heart of India. Book your Golden Triangle Tour with Jodhpur by Taj Mahal Tours Agra !

Embark on an adventure of a lifetime, filled with history, culture, and unforgettable experiences!

For More Info Visit Us At :- Taj Mahal Tours Agra

Gmail :- tajmahaltoursagra11@gmail.com

Mob No :- +91 8395088788

[amsahtours]

Taj Mahal Sunrise Tour From Delhi | Amsah Tours

Embrace the magic of the Taj Mahal, bathed in the ethereal glow of sunrise, on an unforgettable journey with Amsah Tours.

Imagine waking up to the promise of a breathtaking sunrise over the iconic Taj Mahal. As the first rays of golden light gently caress the marble monument, illuminating its intricate details and reflecting in the serene Yamuna River, you’ll be mesmerized by its timeless beauty. This is the experience that awaits you on our meticulously crafted Taj Mahal Sunrise Tour From Delhi by Amsah Tours.

A Journey of Comfort and Convenience:

Our tour is designed to provide you with a seamless and comfortable experience from start to finish. We’ll pick you up from your Delhi hotel in a comfortable, air-conditioned vehicle, ensuring a relaxed and enjoyable journey to Agra. Our expert driver, well-versed in local routes and traffic conditions, will navigate you safely and efficiently.

A Sunrise that Will Steal Your Heart:

Upon arriving in Agra, you’ll be greeted by your knowledgeable and friendly tour guide, ready to unveil the secrets of the Taj Mahal. You’ll be taken to a strategic location near the monument, offering an unobstructed view of the breathtaking sunrise. As the first light kisses the Taj, casting a mesmerizing spell over its white marble facade, you’ll be captivated by its exquisite craftsmanship and unparalleled beauty.

Beyond the Taj Mahal:

Our tour doesn’t stop at the sunrise spectacle. You’ll have ample time to explore the intricate details of the Taj Mahal, marveling at its symmetrical design, intricate inlays, and the poignant love story that inspired its creation. Your guide will provide insightful commentary, sharing fascinating anecdotes and historical facts about this architectural masterpiece.

Exploring Agra’s Rich Heritage:

After your Taj Mahal experience, we’ll take you on a journey to discover other historical gems of Agra. You’ll visit the majestic Agra Fort, another UNESCO World Heritage Site, witnessing its imposing ramparts, magnificent palaces, and stunning views of the Taj Mahal from afar. We’ll also take you to the bustling local markets, where you can indulge in a delightful shopping spree, purchasing authentic souvenirs and experiencing the vibrant culture of Agra.

A Culinary Delight:

No Agra experience is complete without savoring the city’s renowned culinary delights. We’ll take you to a local restaurant for a delicious lunch, offering a taste of traditional Indian cuisine. You’ll have the opportunity to sample a variety of dishes, from flavorful curries to aromatic breads, leaving your taste buds tantalized.

Tailored to Your Preferences:

At Amsah Tours, we understand that every traveler is unique. Our tours are customizable to cater to your specific needs and interests. Whether you desire an extended stay in Agra, a more relaxed pace, or additional sightseeing options, we’ll happily tailor your itinerary to create a truly unforgettable experience.

Why Choose Amsah Tours?

Expert Tour Guides: Our knowledgeable and passionate guides possess deep expertise in Indian history and culture, ensuring you gain a comprehensive understanding of the Taj Mahal and Agra. Comfortable Transportation: We provide modern, air-conditioned vehicles for your comfort and safety, making your journey relaxed and enjoyable. Flexible Itineraries: We offer customizable tours to cater to your specific preferences and interests, ensuring a personalized experience. Competitive Pricing: We provide transparent and competitive pricing, ensuring value for your money. Exceptional Customer Service: We strive to provide exceptional customer service, going the extra mile to ensure your satisfaction and create unforgettable memories.

Embark on a Journey of Wonder:

The Taj Mahal Sunrise Tour From Delhi by Amsah Tours offers a unique and unforgettable experience. Witness the iconic monument bathed in the golden light of dawn, immerse yourself in its rich history, and discover the captivating charm of Agra. This tour is more than just a sightseeing experience; it’s a journey that will leave a lasting impression on your soul.

Book your Taj Mahal Sunrise Tour From Delhi with Amsah Tours today and embark on a journey of wonder and awe!

For More Info Visit Us At :- Amsah Tours

Gmail :- amsahtours@gmail.com

Mob No :- +91 8077638699