A seekers path...

I once met a man in Katmandu. In the heart of the old city where the sand by thousands and thousands of feet slowly has turned into solid streets. I saw him by the corner where the black marketeers hides from the sun at noon and the sweet smell of chai lingers. Underneath the Jasmine some doves had taken their refuge and the man sat down to rest both his elderly limbs and eyes by their side. I almost missed him, draped in an olivegreen scarf on top of a jaliskirt, as I stepped out from the crossing alleyroad, sun in my eyes and the heavy smell of garlic and foul meat like a invisible wall before me. The street being bussy even at this hour due to the stream of tourists and everyday people living the modern way.
The man leaned against the wall, hands folded on top of his spiny cane like a sword stucked in the ground before him. A knight of his generation, soon to be lost in time. The insight came to me in a split second; That man is a Teacher! and with that a sudden urge to fall down on my knees infront of him, asking for his blessing, begging for permition to wash his tired feet. I did not, of course, but catched by the sudden urge I came up to him and took a seat at a distance that alowed me to both show respect and interest. From my satchel I brought some of the leftover naan from my lunchpac and started to ground it between my fingers to feed the doves. Saying nothing I knew he noticed me.
Some time passed. Still he did not say a word but the bread and the doves gave me a reason to stay. I noticed he was watching though. Some more time passed by. Then, finaly he spoke.
" If the doves had not bin here for you to share your bread with, what reason would you have to stay?"

A million thoughts and answers ran through my head, rights and wrongs, judgements and discourages. What question was that anyway? Was this a ridle, a quest? Somewere at a distant a man cried for a Riksha. The wind touched my arms and reminded me that I was only wearing a shortsleaved shirt. My feet tired of being straped into Teva sandals.
Then Time stopped.
"The doves are not the reason why I´m here" I said, " they are only reminding me of what a blessing it is to have bread to share. The reason why I´m here is because I have long seeked answers to my questions and what seams like faith or God if you like, has brought me to this place at this perticular moment."
"So you are a believer?" he replied, a little curiosity in his voice now.
"We are all believers, in what is what differ us. But yes, you might say I am a beliver."
He hesitated and I took the chance to take the lead in the conversation by turning towards him.
" Are you?"
"It is true. We are all believers... For long I believed in my believe to. Lived as a monk in the temple close to Bodhana, you see. Everyday seaking the truth, everyday meeting the eyes of Buddha, turning the weels for making our prayers heard and spread..." He fell silent and closed his eyes, as if he could see the memories, like a movie, repeating themselves once again.
"And then?" I asked, "what happened?"
With his eyes closed still he took a deep breath, the way elderly wise men do and as to wait for the right wind hesitated before he let the words out.
"Nothing happened, that´s what happend."
"What do you mean?"
"It means; Nothing happened. There were no sudden enlightment, no changing in the outer world, at least not to the better, no siddhis mastered... Instead, Nothing happened."
"...please... what is the meaning of this, Nothing?"
Now he opened his eyes and also made a little shift in his position to face me a little bit better. And as he did, I saw him in a new light. I could tell he was happy by the lines of his face. A constelation of stars in each eye and the eternity carved into his light smile. The old man was gone. Instead I saw the boy he once was.The man, the monk, the seeker and I understod when I saw him what I could not understand. The abscence of time where he was.