The Exquisite Closeness
of The  Spirit's Fingers. 

  Spiritual Session

A Spiritual Jugalbandi, between Vasundhara Vee and Cosmic Illuminator Tarun Cherian. 22 July 2019.

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At the heart of Creator’s Child are sessions that remind us that we are Children of The Creator. These sessions are one-to-one, offered to those willing to stretch their wings, and leave planet Mundane. Here is one between Vasundhara Vee, who apart from being Jazz Diva, animal whisperer, feminist, vocal teacher. This particular session reveals the deep closeness, miraculousness and strangeness of our world. The session happened over a cellphone. Mumbai-Bangalore. She has just finished an exhausting day teaching advanced vocals to students. After the initial niceties… we eavesdrop…

Tarun: With butterfly wings I touch her face/neck, 984 kilometres away. I then ask "Where am I touching you?"
Vasu: "I feel purple-blue clouds at my throat." She gets amazingly.
{The odds of her getting it right is about one in four. {Head-throat, Torso, Abdomen, Legs-Feet}}
Tarun: I move my butterfly touch to her shoulder. “Now where am I touching you?” I ask.
Vasu:  “Right arm and stomach.” Bingo. 
{The odds of her getting both right is now one in 16.}

Tarun: “Now where am I touching, and... who is touching?”
Vasu: “A diffuse touch to the back.”
Tarun: “It was the touch of a python”. I reveal to her.
{The odds of her getting all 3 accurately is now a slender 1.5%.}

Tarun: “Ok...  Now where?” 
Vasu: “At the centre of my heart.”
Tarun: “Great. I walked within you, as if your astral body was a landscape, and your root chakra a mountain....” {The odds of her getting all 4 accurately is now an inmpossible 0.3%.}

Also what was amazing was that each long-distance touch was different. The first was an astral projection. More advanced than long-distance healing. The python was a shakti. To it Tarun was a scale on its vastness. The heart touch was from within. I was treating her as landscape as a mini-cosmos.
Hearing a lot of honking, plus, deciding her ego needs a slight break, I shift conversation.

Tarun: “Are you in a taxi with grey upholstery?”
Vasu: “My car...  I've got a driver...  It's got grey and beige upholstery.”
{Tarun: I was puzzled, intuitively I felt Vasu as if she was being driven around, but the car colours were not the typical Bombay Taxi colours}

Exploring The Miraculousness of Aura Magic.
Tarun: “Now that we've established the undeniable reality of inner touch let us move forward. We are going to make music with your aura bodies. The drums are your right foot toes. We touch the little one with a dog's tongue. The next with a friend's fingers.  The next with a manicurist's fingers. The next is a nurse's hands. The next, a maid from childhood.”
Vasu: “It feels like colours are unleashed, a swirly wind, now song, now laughter, now a muslin in the wind.”

Vasundhara is known for her exquisite vocals, now sensual, now cloud-scraping, now scattering sunshine… This was different music… where she was the symphony, she the audience, she the notes… she God’s listening ear… But here we are not touching her body, we are touching the etheric body, the prana to which physical atoms are attached. After the left foot we move to the right. We are not shifting imagery. We are actually borrowing archetypes, taking this fragment from a nurse, this presence from childhood. We are using living ghosts.

We now move to her hair. Why hair? You ask because the bottom of her hair looked white, had accumulated static electricity. And this we can use.

“Each like a string in a violin”. We tell her. And get the force to sweep towards the scalp. It touches the scalp and spreads. For it was like breath or the quiver of breath. The sensation spreads across her skin…

We now gently get the sensation to gather, to dance out of the body, to form a dancing animal. It moves out of the car, and as it does so, shows Vasu odd things, like a driver’s bag in the front seat, her own bag, a paper or scarf spilling out like a drunken troll… The moment she shifts out of the car the howl of Mumbai outside is so vehement she is catapulted above… Into a white etheric world and back. As she is in the etheric world, a predator snaps at her. We protect and bring her back. What would have happened if the predator had ripped her etheric flesh? She would have been very tired, maybe fallen ill.  
We now play again, but this time we do not touch her skin, or the energy wrapping her skin, but areas very distant.  The outermost aura but direct it to the stomach. The sensation is more shivery than earlier.

We touch her knees 10 years ago, but don't tell her where. She feels it as if she is curled up and someone touches her knees.
We now touch the soul's skin, Vasu feels it like irridiscent bubbles on her back. “I Am filled with bubbles… oh the colours… the sounds… we now drop raindrops on the soul's rippling face,  Vasu feels it like monsoon rain. Only the drops are like music. We get her to follow the music… And she senses it as music that are also flocks of birds… moving in a hundred directions, forming precise patterns, yet delightfully spontaneous.


spirit's Touch

Can it be True? Oh God it is True. And as you read and reread the puzzlement increases. "Impossible" will say the pragmatist.  "Collusion, outright lies" will sneer some,  er...  So did an earlier self...  And if one dare point out that the quantum theorists have shown this as real, that pebble is wave in disguise, they will sniff for few understand the quantum physicist least of all the quantum physicist. ‘Can it be True? Oh God it is True.’  You tell yourself. For the odds of getting the many touches right are statistically impossible. And anyone who knows Vasundhara Vee knows she is a visionary, but very principled. As Queen of India’s Jazz scene {MTv said it, not us} she has to make tough career calls. If she says it happened. It did.

Fears Arrive! And then it strikes: “I am naked” to the curious mind,  helpless before the tantric's gaze!. And the terror at facing unknow connections makes us want to cry out. “Shoot em,  ban them,  banish them...  Burn them at the stake...” But for you pull out your level one notes and protect yourself. The fear subsides, but…

You have to Move from Planet Stable! But… even as the fear subsides… it is disconcerting… you realise that your world has more holes in it, more windows. Things you took for granted like space, your body, thoughts are behaving oddly. 984 kilometres can collaps like an accordion, thoughts can grow fingers…  

The Price of Magic is… This session was pure magic...  But, even this, without hint of the ugly,  no demons,  no tantrics,  no past life massacres,  no between life vampires...  Demands so much...  Like a voice reaching heavenward flawless in its soaring leaves the singer wrung out...?  Why?  We aren't lifting weights? Because we are stepping off from solid earth...  Think of how sensitive Vasundhara had to be, how trusting to tune in to a touch less a breath… and as a famous jazz singer thousands would be thinking of her… idolizing, envying, resenting… Yes, this is the great price each of our true soul explorers have paid… Shall we name you? Divya, Bela, Shweta, Ravi, Kanak, Ashwin, Tanya, Nishi, Boby, Usha, Palli, Soujanya, Sonia, Savi, Tina, Diana, Simran, Suresh, Madhu, Uma, Srijith, Vaishali, Shekar, Chitra, Amita, Rakesh, Gupta, Catherine, Anand, Sowmya, Aditi, Karen, Mehdi, Sukhjit, Natsy, Sai, Sapna, Angel, Madhupa,  Sepideh, Nirmala, Seemaa, Manisha, Jayalakshmi, Litna, Veena, Arpana, Anandhi, Indroneil, Nilima, Chaitra, Tony, Mona, Swati, Ruudi, Subbu, Sujani, Kamala, Pooja, Samnjay, Kamaan, Monika, Saurabh, Mala, Ruth, Chaitanya, Vinod, Rachana, Anamitra, Manish, Swati, Amrutha, Prema, Kavita, Vinesh, Sonal, Pradeep, Avi, Geetha, Deepali, Nirmala, Zahid, Yogi, Shikha, Shalini, Trishla, Milin, Roshni… Oh and so… So many more… Celia & I, and the presences behind us, -- We hug you all…

Soul Explorers, Brave Hearts... Your Glimpses of The Infinite Blesses Us All… Each of you have walked deep into a world where silences intrude and walls are like curtains... Each of you soul explorers straddle the no-man’s land between ground ugly and pure enchantment. Know this is the real price... the terrifying price of living in a world of anarchic freedom… But you pay it... And so in you magic resides and therefore in all mankind, all creatures the miraculous wakes...
The Truth is We Live in A Strange And Marvellous World... where 984 kilometres is a hand’s reach away, where bodies are continents, toes are drums,  hair is violin and thought is a bridge,  a world where soul music stirs with human fingers...  A world where the miraculous may brush skin...  Reverently...



-Celia & Tarun Cherian...



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