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Fiction
Parallel Journeys
 
The lives of Maitreyi and Yajnavalkya resonate across parallel lifetimes. One springs from the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad and Maitreyi’s question to Yajnavalkya. After Yajnavalkya left home, what did Maitreyi do? Did she follow him to the mountains? Did she go further? In another time, Maitreyi Sen, a young dancer, seeks after the intent from which each movement begins. Like the quest of the architect Yves Broca, that also brings him to the Himalayas. A journey of the spirit free of all dogmas.
Reviews
Majumdar creates an evocative search for personal spirituality...remarkable for its intensity.
The Telegraph
This precious book is to be welcomed…combines artistic inspiration with spiritual integrity
India Today
A love story that is simultaneously centuries old and very, very contemporary.
Business Standard
The harmony and strength of the characters in search ofnew meanings takes you through
the book
The Sunday Express
From: Foreword by Mark Tully:
…isn’t it true that we live in an age which has given up thinking about
our origins, our destination, our purpose? We have, for the most part,
been seduced by the tremendous achievements of science and
technology, and seem content to rely on further developments in those
fields to create a ‘better world’….Parallel Journeys is a story… of two people of today who discover that ancient meaning can still be valid…
extracts
1.1
Maitreyi awoke.
The great forest ached in the still wide breath of dawn. The air was pure as dew. Quietly, the sun fell on the edge of the hill and swept along the valley into the forest, reaching the steps of her small hermitage.
She looked up. All around the mountains sat gloriously. Waiting…
Filtering out through the branches she heard the roar of the silent centuries travelling towards her upon the rays of the sun. She sat up. Something out there was calling her name.
Something that had recognized her.
She reached out her hand and touched the air in front, puzzled. A strand of hair fell lightly across her forehead. Who was it?
She rose from the mat where she had been lying and stepped outside to salute the morning sun. The forest had sculpted her body smooth and firm. Like a rishi’s. She was a tall woman. Her eyes were black. The sun slid up the steps of her hermitage and touched her feet. Swiftly it travelled up her body and entered her eyes. Then she knew.
The gods were telling her story again. In another time…
1.2
She walked through security check, collected her bag and walked to Gate No. 10 to board the flight to Paris. The stewardess at the door checked her boarding pass and smiled brightly. The flight has been delayed for half an hour. Another smile. Sorry for the inconvenience. Please watch the announcements. Another systematic smile flash and she was gone. Maitreyi looked around.
The plastic chairs in the lounge were yellow and orange. She walked across to a seat by the glass window and looked out over the long, empty tarmac. The runway lights were still on though dawn had begun clearing the sky. She picked up a magazine from the messy heap lying in the next seat and flicked through it absently. There was something about the airport area once being a forest. Really? She looked out of the window again. What would that have been like?
Suddenly, images of a forest engulfed her mind’s eye. She was walking between birdsong and a green density of trees. Through them, in the distance, she could see great, white mountains. And then, suddenly again, she was standing in a circle of light. Maitreyi hesitated. She was? Was that her? No, it was someone else.
The profile in the glass pane was no longer her own. But it seemed to know her…
Maitreyi stared at the reflection in the glass. The woman looked back at her intently.
Dark eyes. Centuries deep.
She saw the sun come up through them at the far end of the runway.
Maitreyi looked around quickly. The screens in the lounge were all flashing:
Attention: Last call. Flight to Paris awaiting departure. Attention: Last call…
‘Ms Sen!’ The stewardess was signalling frantically. ‘Please hurry up!’
Reluctantly she picked up her bags.
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