Sometimes you realize you’re an instrument of the universe.

Certain moments happen that, in hindsight, make it clear that just as you are aware of the destiny you are living, you are a character, a lesson, in someone else’s destiny. 

When I was 22, I travelled to Nepal. Kathmandu was an incredible place, especially to a young person who was enamoured of Buddhist philosophy and teachings, specifically the lineages that were associated with the Himalayas. Temples were everywhere. Kathmandu was a central place where all of the major religious lineages and practices of Hinduism and Buddhism came together.

One of these came in the form of sadhus, Hindu ascetics. Part of many Hindu and Buddhist religious traditions include a period where men (and mostly men, women participating more infrequently in this aspect of religious worship) go into the world and learn what it is to live doing ascetic acts of worship, and begging for alms. Sadhus in Kathmandu were among the most visible of these; they’d grow their hair long, wear saffron coloured robes and turbans, paint their bodies and faces, and were often found doing various acts of ascetic devotion.

Begging is not looked upon in this part of the world in the same way; if a Buddhist monk or Hindu ascetic begs for alms, it is an honour to give them money, food, or other offerings. Most people do it, and it’s not even thought of twice. It’s considered part of your duty as a Buddhist or Hindu to support holy men and women in their religious journeys. 

As travellers from Canada, my friend and I stood out. This often made us the target of religious adherents begging for money, as it was (not wrongly) assumed that we had potentially more of it than other people. Not incorrect but also not a totally right one all of the time; we were in our early 20s, travelling on a set amount of money that wasn’t endless. 

On one of these days, I had run out of Nepalese rupees. As in, not a rupee to my name. I was heading out to exchange some funds when my friend and I were accosted by a sadhu and his friend. He performed a ritual, painted a mark on my forehead, made me open my hand so he could drop dried marigold blossoms in it, did something that seemed like a blessing, and then held out his hand for alms for performing this blessing and ritual.

I felt terribly, but I took out my wallet to show him how utterly skint I was; it was empty. His painted face fell, and his fellow sadhu beside him started laughing hysterically. 

Some capricious joke or lesson from the universe was performed on him that day and I was simply an instrument of it, a random person chosen for my rightness for this task at that moment.