Lives in India
- Thread starter Obie
- Start date
Shiftkitty
Registered User
Y'know, there was someone else on another forum, I think it was sciforums, who used to throw out topics like this without actually sayiong anything and just say "discuss" at the end. You first. What do you have? I'll be honest, and hopefully not pick a fight, but it sounds condescending. "Here's a toy, little children, play with it." So, start with your story.
Obie
Member
Well I'm not trying to be condescending that is not my intent at all. I' m asking b/c I've had several lives where I was born in India but around the BC years. I am fascinated by how the culture was like in India during that time. I had one life where I was a holy man who lived under dirt poor circumstances. I was unhappy at living a very meager life yet in an effort to be holy I kept on with a life where I was unhappy. I think I either let myself die or committed suicide. I feel as if though I prayed extensively and felt like I had to be holy and live an ascetic life yet for some reason I felt that I had no power to change my life.
Obie
Member
I was told I also had another life in India where I was wealthier and had a good life where after marriage my life detiorated. I married an abusive man who got me pregnant shortly after marriage to control me and keep me away from my family and friends. I died in childbirth soon after.
I think I have met the husband from the Indian lifetime. He was very similar after all those years. Luckily in this current lifetime I was able to leave him and he was not able to abuse me any further.
I think I have met the husband from the Indian lifetime. He was very similar after all those years. Luckily in this current lifetime I was able to leave him and he was not able to abuse me any further.
Shiftkitty
Registered User
I do have fleeting memories of India. Similar story, a domineering (maybe physicaly abusive), but I hatched a plan for the perfect murder (at the time), and if the images serve me correctly, I got away with it. I wish I had more details, but I get a feeling that it's tied to my current interest in police forensics and the study of murder scenes and the psyches of people who commit murder. Creepy stuff for some, to be sure. I haven't met anyone from that lifetime that I am aware of.
(Still wondering if you're the person from sciforums. Like I said, they'd do posts in an identical fashion.)
(Still wondering if you're the person from sciforums. Like I said, they'd do posts in an identical fashion.)
Shiftkitty
Registered User
Weird. This person would do the same thing, throw out a topic without putting his/her own ante into the pot and just finish with "Discuss". I haven't been to that site in years now. It really degraded when the admins stopped monitoring it.
Glad you were able to get away this time around. I remember sending the servants away save for one very trusted friend amoing them. She helped me dispose of the body as long as she didn't have to touch it or see it. I don't have memories of the actual act, only the aftermath and the disposal of the body. I took my time to craft a story of where he had gone and think I had covered my tracks very well. I said he had gone abroad, some kind of business deal, then crafted an untimely demise for him, probably at the hands of thugees (I don't recall). I don't remember if I continued to live in our fine house or if I vanished.
Glad you were able to get away this time around. I remember sending the servants away save for one very trusted friend amoing them. She helped me dispose of the body as long as she didn't have to touch it or see it. I don't have memories of the actual act, only the aftermath and the disposal of the body. I took my time to craft a story of where he had gone and think I had covered my tracks very well. I said he had gone abroad, some kind of business deal, then crafted an untimely demise for him, probably at the hands of thugees (I don't recall). I don't remember if I continued to live in our fine house or if I vanished.
Many people do that online. I once looked at a forum where several different members did it simultaneously with different threads.Shiftkitty said:
The plight of widows in India, historically, has been terrible, which continues even to the present day. Unless you were a westerner or Sikh. Or, in the present day, widows of liberal progressive families, reflecting the more recent social changes brought about by Gandhi.Shiftkitty said:
Typically, the average widow of traditional families found themselves not keeping their fine home, neither inheriting it nor even being allowed to live there. For 40 million present day widows, they are expelled from their families, even by their own children, and shunned by society. Cast out into the streets with the expectation that they will disappear.
If your past life in India was in byegone historical times, as implied by your mentioning thugees as a likely cause for death, there wouldn't have been many liberal progressive families. So chances are that by killing your husband you were killing yourself.
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Shiftkitty
Registered User
Maybe. As I said, I don't remember much after what I have posted. I think I faked him being alive for awhile, which may account for any memories concerning living in the house for awhile afterwards. Maybe I preferred a life in exile (though I imagine it would have been horrendously hard)? I have tried to meditate more on this one, but it's one of the harder ones to get much on, as so much seems to revolve around the murder.
usetawuz
Member
I have a memory sourced through a past life meditation which began with looking at my small, brown bare feet walking along a dirt trail amidst high and thick green foliage...it was in equatorial India and I walked into a small village. I was one of several children, though I felt a sense of irritation first at the other children, then at myself and I felt something should be happening, people should be doing something productive.
My next view was of a significant event in that lifetime and I was standing stoically as I received some form of accolade or award. While I felt some sort of pride, it was mixed with the sense of relief in that this would enable me to leave this village.
The final view was of that life's end. It was only a few years out of the village as a young man...I was very thin with a full head of wavy black hair and wore loose fitting clothes. I was a junior clerk in a warehouse in a much larger town near the village. As I was walking down a crowded street to where I had a bedroom, something happened and in reflex to whatever it was, I pushed a little girl out of the way, but what I saved her from severed an artery in my neck and as I bled to death my focus left the view through his eyes and changed to hovering over the dying body. The little girl was fine, but she cowered nearby with a worried look on her face, and people scurried around trying to help in vain. I watched my body as the blood covered the pavement below me and the light left my eyes.
I felt a sense of relief and release, but also of sadness as so much could have been done in that lifetime. I had worked so hard to advance myself for it to all come to this...then the love came flooding in and my life's purpose was clear...but for my hard work and effort to better myself, I never would have left the village...had I not, the little girl would have died. However the point wasn't just that I saved a child's life. My village had a negative reputation, and I, as a member of that village, had sacrificed myself to save another. I was not a hero, and had acted out of instinct, but my actions were interpreted as heroism and vindicated the greater reputation of my village, which had lasting beneficial consequences.
I have spent alot more time in India and find so much of it familiar and comfortable, but this is the clearest and most specific view I have had to date...and the key is the level of emotion. While in my wildest dreams, I may have been able to come up with such a story line, but there is no way I could imagine the depth and breadth of the emotion this small vignette produced.
My next view was of a significant event in that lifetime and I was standing stoically as I received some form of accolade or award. While I felt some sort of pride, it was mixed with the sense of relief in that this would enable me to leave this village.
The final view was of that life's end. It was only a few years out of the village as a young man...I was very thin with a full head of wavy black hair and wore loose fitting clothes. I was a junior clerk in a warehouse in a much larger town near the village. As I was walking down a crowded street to where I had a bedroom, something happened and in reflex to whatever it was, I pushed a little girl out of the way, but what I saved her from severed an artery in my neck and as I bled to death my focus left the view through his eyes and changed to hovering over the dying body. The little girl was fine, but she cowered nearby with a worried look on her face, and people scurried around trying to help in vain. I watched my body as the blood covered the pavement below me and the light left my eyes.
I felt a sense of relief and release, but also of sadness as so much could have been done in that lifetime. I had worked so hard to advance myself for it to all come to this...then the love came flooding in and my life's purpose was clear...but for my hard work and effort to better myself, I never would have left the village...had I not, the little girl would have died. However the point wasn't just that I saved a child's life. My village had a negative reputation, and I, as a member of that village, had sacrificed myself to save another. I was not a hero, and had acted out of instinct, but my actions were interpreted as heroism and vindicated the greater reputation of my village, which had lasting beneficial consequences.
I have spent alot more time in India and find so much of it familiar and comfortable, but this is the clearest and most specific view I have had to date...and the key is the level of emotion. While in my wildest dreams, I may have been able to come up with such a story line, but there is no way I could imagine the depth and breadth of the emotion this small vignette produced.