Don't be jealous of someone else's Joe
Mouse-sized musings from the Dalai Lama's Cat
For several days, Franc hadn’t been himself. The owner of The Himalaya Book Café, usually such a lively presence as he presided over his own little pocket of McLeod-Ganj paradise, had been subdued. Forlorn, even. What could possibly be the matter?
From the top shelf of the magazine rack where I would enjoy a post-lunch siesta after sampling that day’s plat du jour, I’d observed the shift in the way he was with others. A couple of days ago, he and Head Waiter Kusali had been standing at the reception counter, closely scrutinising the pages of Dharamshala Style, a glossy magazine published for tourists and the town’s most affluent residents. Franc had seemed upset. Kusali looked awkward. Since then, there had been far less of the usual banter between the two.
Yesterday Serena swept into the café in a dazzling coral-red dress, to meet Heidi for coffee. Spotting Franc at one of the tables, when she approached him, far from his usual warm cordiality, Franc had been sombre. Serena had sat opposite him with a concerned expression. They had spoken for a while, Serena reaching consolingly across the table. Franc withdrawing his hands. When Serena left, minutes later, her expression was one she seldom wore – both bewildered as well as irked.
This was when it struck me for the first time: could it be possibly that Franc was moping?!
There are times when we all need a guiding hand to lead us back to the light, are there not, dear reader? Even the most enlightened among us may be ambushed by thoughts and feelings that do not serve us well. On such occasions, well-meaning friends may do their best to help, and perhaps they may succeed. Or perhaps not. Sometimes the more powerful presence of a lama may be required.
When Geshe Wangpo appeared at the café entrance, I raised my head. One of the most high-ranking lamas at Namgyal Monastery, a café was not his usual milieu – even when it had an impressive bookstore attached. His past appearances here had only ever been to achieve a specific objective, and as he stood, a robed, imposing presence, I had the distinct sensation that today was no different. Catching sight of Franc, sagging in the banquette nearest me, he swooped.
“Geshe-la!” Franc looked up, surprised to find his guru had manifested beside him. “Are you here-” he rose, briefly surveyed the cafe, “to see someone?”
Geshe Wangpo placed his forefinger against Franc’s chest. “You.”
The two sat down on either side of the table.
“It’s not necessary,” Geshe Wangpo met Franc’s eyes with a strange mix of compassion and wrath, “to spend so much time thinking about what you want, but don’t have.”
“I know Geshe-la.” Franc understood instantly why his guru was here, just as he realised that there was no point pretending in front of someone to whom he was an open book. “But it’s not only about me. It’s also about everyone who works in this place – Kusali, and the chefs, Riccardo, the wait staff, Serena and everyone who has made the café the way it is!” he raised his hands in frustration and despair.
Now I, too, knew what this was about, because it wasn’t happening for the first time. In Franc’s earliest days, when the restaurant was called Café Franc, it had been named in Dharamshala Style’s annual Restaurant Awards supplement as an ‘exciting and distinctive’ up-and-coming venue. Because the Restaurant Awards edition was kept in hotel lobbies and tourist information venues, online and off, the mention had created a welcome boost in trade. People from all over the world had come in search of Café Franc.
Encouraged, Franc and his team had done all they could to make The Himalaya Book Café even more exciting and distinctive. But despite their ongoing efforts, the restaurant had received scant mention again. How could it not, Franc wondered, having dined at all his competitors? Was it editorial bias, his baffled regulars would ask?
By this time, The Himalaya Book Café hardly needed the endorsement of Dharamshala Style to guarantee its popularity. But it grated with Franc that, despite the self-evident popularity of his venue, year after year it failed to be mentioned as even one of the top five in any category, let alone to win a gold plate award.
Through friends of friends, Franc had come to discover the reason for the apparent snub: The Himalaya Book Café just didn’t fit the restaurant award categories, he was told. It wasn’t a hotel restaurant nor a fine dining establishment, nor did it have a focus on traditional Indian cuisine. But he was consoled to hear that additional categories were being explored by the awards team all the time.
When he was told of a new “East meets West” class, Franc believed it must have been created specially for him. “East meets West” was the very essence of The Himalaya Book Café. But two years ago, when the category first appeared, the restaurant was referred to only briefly. Last year, it didn’t merit a mention at all. And this year, despite placing several half page advertisements in the magazine - having suspected a relationship between advertising and award wins – once more, it was as if The Himalaya Book Cafe didn’t exist.
“The worst thing about it,” Franc confided to Geshe Wangpo. “Is that the category winner is always the same. “‘Bhajis to Burgers.’ You must have seen it,” he gestured down the road towards the main town of Dharamshala.”
Geshe Wangpo shrugged in a non-comital way.
“I’ve eaten there, twice, with friends” Franc leaned across the table. “The first time to see how it got a gold plate award. The second time to find out what we missed the first time.” He was shaking his head. “The food is edible, but no more. Zero ambience. Terrible service.”
“And it’s owned by?”
“Dhruv Patel,” Franc’s forehead creased. “Showy guy who drives around town in a black Mercedes. Always flashing his money around.”
Geshe Wangpo raised his eyebrows.
“I don’t know what he’s done to win the awards. Maybe he’s married into the family who own Dharamshala Style.”
Geshe-la nodded.
“Or is a shareholder in the magazine.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. Before adding, “But whatever the conventional reason, you know the real reason, don’t you?’
Franc glanced down at the table. If he knew, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
After a pause Geshe Wangpo continued, “You could say, it is Dhruv Patel’s Joe.”
“His Joe?” Franc looked up, startled. He immediately began trying to figure out who his lama was referring to. “His maitre d’ is a Scotsman called Hamish.”
Geshe Wangpo was shaking his head.
“And his chef’s a Punjabi man-”
“Not the chef.” The lama was equally adamant.
“A fixer, inside Dharamshala Style?” Franc raced through the possibilities. “I don’t know everyone who works there. You’re saying it’s a guy named Joe?”
“I’m not saying that,” Geshe-la was quick to disavow any clairvoyant recognition. “And Joe is just a metaphor.”
Franc looked across the table at him blankly. Before asking after a while, “How can a metaphor be the reason that Dhruv Patel keeps winning gold plate awards?”
“The name ‘Joe’ is just a metaphor,” his lama replied. “But the person was real enough.”
This only added to Franc’s confusion.
“I’m only using ‘Joe’ as a label for whoever Dhruv Patel was in a previous lifetime” Geshe Wangpo said finally. “Joe was the person who created the karmic causes. Dhruv is now enjoying the karmic results.”
“Oh! I get it!” Franc suddenly understood. “There was a guy, you’re calling Joe, who did all the good stuff. Set things up for the recognition that Dhruv Patel is getting now.”
Geshe Wangpo was nodding. “It could also have been a Jo, without an ‘e’.”
“A female Jo?”
“Exactly,” he met Franc’s eyes. “He or she not only created the causes for honours and acclaim. If Dhruv Patel is rich, then maybe he or she was also generous.”
As Franc processed what his teacher had shared, the lama continued, “Dhruv Patel probably believes he won the gold plate award because he is the best in the category. Most other people may believe that too. But the law of karma tells you that there is no effect without a cause. And mostly, the karma we experience in this life was created in the last one. In this life the most we do is to create the conditions for that karma to germinate.”
“All the same, isn’t it unfair when other, less deserving people keep winning?”
“We shouldn’t be jealous of them,” shrugged Geshe Wangpo. “Their success may have little to do with who they are in this life. But they may have created the karma for all kinds of auspicious connections to slip into place. The family they’re born into. Who they meet. Right place, right time.”
“Better, I suppose” continued Franc. “To create the causes to enjoy awards and honours in our next life. Which, I know, is to help others win honours and awards.”
“Yes,” Geshe Wangpo sat back in his seat, observing the impact his words were having on Franc. “And don’t forget-” he wagged a finger, “-even rejoicing in the successes of others is a cause to have the same kind of success that they do.”
Franc thought for a moment. “Perhaps I should send Dhruv Patel a bottle of champagne to congratulate him for his third win in a row.”
Geshe-la shrugged. “You could do worse.”
The two men looked up as I reached both front paws in front of me for a long, tremulous stretch. Both of them began smiling.
“We can all learn from this one,” observed Geshe Wangpo.
Thrilled as I was to be on the receiving end of such a high commendation, I was as curious as Franc to learn exactly why.
“She spends her life giving joy to the highest bodhisattvas among us. You can’t help wondering where she will find herself in her next lifetime.”
Indeed, dear reader! Blinking slowly I wondered what kind of plats du jour they served in Amitabha Buddha’s pure land. And was there a Mrs. Trinci deity figure who bestowed lavish treats.
Come to think of it, was I living in a pure land already?!
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Taking off the chains- many dogs arrive with chains, wire, tree bark, electrical flex, and all sorts of other makeshift and uncomfortable leashes which we replace with comfortable, safe collars and leashes.
Every detail of every dog matters - Vet nurse Hilary giving fluffy Okavango, one of the older Doggy Tuesday regulars, a tail, butt and breeches trim!
The all you can eat Doggy Buffet. Our dry food requirements have shot up 60% recently, with less meat available and more dogs in need.
The vet station where our vet nurses check the dogs, administer treatments and book dogs in for further treatment or assessment if necessary.
David, your stories are such a joy to read. Thank you! I'm so happy that you did whatever you did in previous lifetimes that produced such an uplifting author/teacher in this lifetime.
David, I love all these “musings” from HHC! This one especially got me to thinking about the influence of our former lives, or the influence of any sentient beings in our former lives or even now - that influence our present life - it’s almost too much to fathom or understand for me, who was raised in a Judeo - Christian environment. But I am enthusiastically reading and leaning! I have been reading and collecting all your books for about ten years now, and just this summer, I decided to re-read all of them as a sort of Buddhism retreat . It has been a wonderful experience to immerse myself again in your writings and to re-visit some specific Buddhist teachings and beliefs. It has been a very grounding experience for me. I love reading other’s comments, and I would say “ditto” to all who have written one this time. I add my thanks and gratitude to you for all your weekly insights and “stories” - I feel as though I know everyone in them personally!