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90 THE TIBETAN BOOK OF LIVING AND DYING<br />

<strong>The</strong> expert <strong>and</strong> archaeologist <strong>of</strong> Petra who accompanied<br />

Arthur Flowerdew could not explain this very ordinary<br />

Englishman's uncanny knowledge <strong>of</strong> the city. He said:<br />

He's filled in details <strong>and</strong> a lot <strong>of</strong> it is very consistent with known<br />

archaeological <strong>and</strong> historical facts <strong>and</strong> it would require a mind very<br />

different from his to be able to sustain a fabric <strong>of</strong> deception on the<br />

scale <strong>of</strong> his memories—at least those which he's reported to me. I<br />

don't think he's a fraud. I don't think he has the capacity to be a<br />

fraud on this scale. 4<br />

What else could explain Arthur Flowerdew's extraordinary<br />

knowledge except rebirth? You could say that he might have<br />

read books about Petra, or that he might have even received<br />

his knowledge by telepathy yet the fact remains that some <strong>of</strong><br />

the information he was able to give was unknown even to the<br />

experts.<br />

<strong>The</strong>n there are fascinating cases <strong>of</strong> children who can spontaneously<br />

remember details <strong>of</strong> a previous life. Many <strong>of</strong> these<br />

cases have been collected by Dr. Ian Stevenson <strong>of</strong> the University<br />

<strong>of</strong> Virginia. 5 One startling account <strong>of</strong> a child's memories <strong>of</strong><br />

a past life came to the attention <strong>of</strong> the Dalai Lama, who sent<br />

a special representative to interview her <strong>and</strong> verify her<br />

account. 6<br />

Her name was Kamaljit Kour, <strong>and</strong> she was the daughter <strong>of</strong> a<br />

schoolteacher in a Sikh family in the Punjab in India. One day,<br />

on a visit to a fair in a local village with her father, she suddenly<br />

asked him to take her to another village, some distance away.<br />

Her father was surprised <strong>and</strong> asked her why. "I have nothing<br />

here," she told him. "This is not my home. Please take me to<br />

that village. One <strong>of</strong> my school-friends <strong>and</strong> I were riding on our<br />

bicycles when suddenly we were hit by a bus. My friend was<br />

killed instantly. I was injured in the head, ear, <strong>and</strong> nose. I was<br />

taken from the site <strong>of</strong> the accident <strong>and</strong> laid on the bench in<br />

front <strong>of</strong> a small courthouse nearby. <strong>The</strong>n I was taken to the village<br />

hospital. My wounds were bleeding pr<strong>of</strong>usely <strong>and</strong> my parents<br />

<strong>and</strong> relatives joined me there. Since there were no facilities<br />

to cure me in the local hospital, they decided to take me to<br />

Ambala. As the doctors said I could not be cured, I asked my<br />

relatives to take me home." Her father was shocked, but when<br />

she insisted, he finally agreed to take her to the village, though<br />

he thought that it was just a child's whim.

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