The lights flickered, and then went out.

"Welcome to India," a voice said in the darkness.

-----------------------

A year ago, I found myself walking around during my lunch hour after having finished a bagel sandwich. As I crossed Fifth Street, I noticed a group of little boys at a window, giggling.

I got closer and discovered a bald man with his face pressed against the window, making funny faces at the boys. He leaned back from the window, smiled and waved as the little boys scuttled off.

I stared at the man. Recognition came instantly, although it was muddied by silly questions like, "Is that really him? Why is he here?"

It was Geshela, my meditation teacher. He hadn't aged one day, and was sitting in a KFC restaurant along the street with a pile of chicken bones in front of him.

His eyes met mine and glittered. He didn't have to beckon; I willingly threw open the door to the restaurant and walked straight over the greasy tile to his table.

I bowed to him, and he waved me off.

"A long time, but our paths cross again," he smiles.

I take a seat, still a little stunned.

"How-- how are you??" I ask.

He gestures to the pile of bones. "Full!" He leans back and cackles as he pats his belly.