the judge.

"i haven't spoken to my wife in a month. i didn't want to interrupt her." rodney dangerfield.

one day a judge visited the ashram and guruji announced that there was to be an important general meeting in the meditation hall. we all crowded in, sat down on cushions knee-over-knee as the 'important' people entered. guruji sat on a slightly raised platform, in his sofa-chair, while the jusge, his wife and several others took their places in chairs arranged along each side.

there were a few speeches, guruji spoke for a while and the judge gave a rather long-winded, boring talk about the spiritual traditions of india. afterward, guruji asked the judge a few questions, the last being: what do you do if you can't make up your mind about a case? the judge launched into an excruciatingly long, dry dissertation explaining the processes he goes through in making a judgment. mercifully, however, eventually guruji interrupted him, then called out my name: "hansraj."

shocked, i jumped up off my cushion near the back of the hall. i was wearing white cotton corte and lungi with rudraksh mala-beads around my neck, my dark curly uncombed hair down to the middle of my back. turning to the judge, guruji said: "this boy looks like a simple himalayan mountain man, but he is the son of one of canada's most influential judges. his father has presided over many dramatic cases, such as when a nurse was accused of killing many babies in a hospital." then turning back to me, he asked: "hansraj, what would your father do when he couldn't make up his mind about a case?"

for some reason that i cannot explain, i knew exactly how to answer. with no hesitation i said: "that's very easy, guruji. he would just bring the matter up during dinner and mom would tell him what to do."

"first of all, you've got to have talent. then you gotta marry her like i did." george burns.