Where It Shines!
Gopinagar, West Bengal
There are no names to the roads in India. At least on paper, or maps, it may be so but if you ask a local person about the nomenclature for a rural dirt road you might get nebulous answer.
After a good sleep I ventured down such a road. What a pleasure! The peace! In the early morning when darkness pervades, sound becomes amplified. You hear the sound of water trickling into one field sourced by another through the irrigational lock system. Maybe it's Ganga water? I'm not sure.
As you pass by a home a dog may howl or you hear a sudden out burst of a baby crying piercing through what seems like a paper thin wall. As sun shines through, the occasional person on foot wrapped in lungi or saree offers some kind of greeting. English is rarely spoken in these rural parts which is one of the reasons why I don't get an answer to ,"What road are we on?"
After a late breakfast a parikrama was scheduled with our youthful attendees from Mayapura. The boiling sun divested some of that energy from those youth. It seems like sometimes I must compensate for this by putting out my own personal energy which actually isn't my energy at all. I am so grateful to my assistant, Dustin, who is young and never seeming to be depleted of energy.
The form of parikrama which Ajamil arranged was a walking party which is drumming and singing while moving from one residence to another on dirt paths. The sacred Tulasi plant which landmarks every courtyard became our point of changing directions and heading for the next home. While dodging palm leaves and opening us to a cow by a tree I could not help to think how almost perfect rural India is. All that you need is here. People have each other with their food growing at their fingertips. It's pure ecological charm.
Our evening was occupied in a pandal (tent) program at Ajamil's once again. He asked me to give a talk and I happily consented. When I got up from my speaking chair a flood of local people rose and then segued to bowing towards my feet. It is common, perhaps more so in Bengal, for the public to go to the sadhu (monk) and touch his or her feet for benedictions.
My problem with this event as people were cued all around it that it turned into a tickle session. I'm sensitive and when they slid their soft hands over the feet; it was difficult to remain standing. I saw a virtual sea around me. I asked one of the boys, Sacisuta from Florida, to save me and so he came to my aid and pulled me out of an embarrassing situation.
I must give credit where it is due. It was our youth who shone at this two day program.
10 KM
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