Wednesday, March 5th, 2014

Mayapur, India

I Cannot Walk With You

“I cannot walk with you today,” said Praveen.  He is a local person and I’ve known him for a good 15 years or so.  I was with a Russian devotee, and we were just turning a corner onto Tarumpura Road, toward the Jalangi River, when Praveen expressed that he can’t join us as he did the other day.  He felt unworthy, as he put it, “I didn’t take bath yet today.”  He made further remarks that emerged from the low self esteem platform, “I’m no good.”

Praveen looked disheveled.  His dentures are deteriorated, stained yellow and brown.  In the past when I would meet him on the Tarumpura Road, I would give him an embrace, but I could see he was not in the mood to receive.  He looked intoxicated.  Being pious, believing in God, and what is generally dharmic (moral), he felt rather guilty being in our presence.  He knows what it means to greet or be greeted by a monk.  It is a deeply engrained element in the psyche of people who hail from the land of dharma, India.  That’s why he spoke with an outburst, “Maharaja,” he said out of reverence.

He stood there, humbled, and the only thing I could do for the moment was to cheer him up and let him know he’s not a bad person.

“Do put your faith in Krishna, He’s always there to help.  By the way, please come to see our play, ‘Little Big Ramayan’.  It will be held at the Samadhi Auditorium.”

There’s always the obligation when meeting someone to give them hope.  I saw him get a little excited.  So we went on our way.  I did not see Praveen at our show, but I trust that he will be there in the future.  I pray for him.

“My dear, Krishna, please watch over Praveen who is struggling and having a dark hour.  Please help him to overcome habits he’s not pleased with.  May his devotional sentiments overshadow his weaknesses.”

May the Source be with you!

5 KM

Tuesday, March 4th, 2014

Mayapur, India

A Walk, A Song

A Russian, an Argentinian, a Quebecois, and Paramatma (the Divine in the heart) became my companions on short trails today.

One of those strolls took us to the Kirtan Mela, 'Festival of Chanting.'  For this five-day arousing event I was slotted in for one hour to lead an impactful chanting session.  I had been pining for the presence of Bengali friend, Ajamila, to join me in the lead - just as we had done last year.  Just hours before my designated time, Ajamila showed up at my door.  We were now poised for mantra meditation in a large hall called Pancha Tattva.  Our hour from 1:30 to 2:30 PM happened to be a quiet hour, actually conducive for gaining the right kind of atmosphere.

Being lunch time, many people had cleared out but for two to three hundred that stayed.  Well, we collectively started off soft for a take-off.  Then we built up momentum and made for a blast-off.  People were pleased.  This might also well be the barometer for giving satisfaction to the Source.  We sang, engaged the hands in clapping all together and even incorporating the snapping of fingers, doing a beatnik-type of thing.  The crowd was all smiles.

In one sense I was proud of us, that is, Ajamila and I.  We were committed to sticking to traditional tunes and giving a break to Bollywood stuff which is often prevalent at kirtan festivals.

The overall Kirtan Mela was a huge success.  May sincere mantra singers come together to fill the ether with sounds of Divinity - challenging the effects of Kali, the age of craziness.

May the Source be with you!

6KM

Monday, March 3rd, 2014

Mayapur, India

The More Dark Side of a Mass Pilgrimage

There is something very embarrassing about the culture which I adopted and it has to do with when you are not able to walk through the crowds.  To have ten thousand people descend on a small town like Mayapura creates interesting dynamics.  It's a rude awakening of the lack of love.

The figure mentioned above is miniscule when compared to the millions of Hindu pilgrims who attend the Kumbha Mela or Mecca for the Muslims on their respective auspicious days.  There just is not yet the infrastructure in place to handle the hordes here in Mayapura.

Today marked another day of celebration - the tenth anniversary of a major installation of the deities, Panca Tattva.  A massive puja (worship) took place which increased the density of population substantially.

A pre-arranged interview with a group of UK students was my excuse for not attending.  Had the time been open, however, I may have declined anyway. I had a not-so-nice experience at the first program ten years ago.  I volunteered as a security guard.  I know that as a senior member I would have the honour to be up on the shrine area to partake in rituals but when I heard that pick-pockets were abound and going after female pilgrims' belongings I felt compelled to help and to be on the commoners' level.

I will not question the great amount of devotion that went behind the event but when a mob dynamic took place I was highly doubtful about the motives of some attendees.  A bamboo barrier was built for crowd control yet zealot pilgrims broke through the barrier after pressing and almost crushing other pilgrims situated next to the temporary wall.  The 'mob' broke through.  They also succeeded to burst our line of security.  We joined hands to indicate 'this is as far as you go.'  We were no obstacle of course.  I had to conclude that this is not devotion.  It left me a little physiologically scarred to see this fanaticism and lack of concern for others.

I joined a love movement and not a shove movement.  Finally, complaints about this days' similar lack of control went to the administrative level, as it should.  We are looking at the growing pains of a fledging society.  Let's endeavour to take the rudeness out of it.

The way I look at it, this is an opportunity for organizers to render a service that would provide safety to others.  It falls under the category quite aptly as, 'devotee care.'

May the Source be with you!

5  KM

Sunday, March 2nd, 2014

Mayapur, India

Remind Yourself

Today was the first day of some illness.  Nothing major.  Some tummy problems.  I hear some residents of India call it “the Delhi belly”

Like anything in the mundane world it is just temporary.  This is the consolation.  By mid-day, operations were back to normal.

I have written before how tough it is to move from one building to the next without being greeted by admirers of monks.  In Indian culture people adore their swamis, even if you are not born in this mother land.  At least in this Mayapur setting where the Vaishnav culture is in full swing, anyone wearing that saffron with the pleat-free-in-the-back dhoti and perhaps carry that staff (danda) - regardless of your skin colour - will attract attention.

The usual routine is that when a pilgrim spots a sannyasi he/she may halt walking, slip out of the shoes and offer dandavats (where you flatten yourself on the ground or bow with head to ground), all out of reverence.  Some pilgrims while cycling will stop and do the same.

Personally I feel these gestures, sincere as they are, are a little bit overkill.  They are whole-heartedly executed but at least from my side there is an inconvenience when crowds require a flow of movement.  It is one of several austerities that a monastic person has to undertake.  You can't avoid the celebrity stature.

The question is, "How do you deal with all the attention and not let it all go to your head?"  What comes to mind is the early morning conscientious internal effort made to remind yourself that, "I am a tiny spark of life with a dimension of one ten-thousandth the tip of a hair.  There are trillions of such sparks existing in the world and I am just one of them.  I am small.  I am humble."  Sometimes a little illness is the best reminder.

May the Source be with you!

4 KM

Saturday, March 1st, 2014

Mayapur, India

You Can Get Bitten

I do anticipate that anything can happen at any time.  Down any trail, danger can lurk.  What if along the trail of dust, a cobra confronts me and he strikes?  I might have an hour to live.

The last few evenings, just to get away from the crowds, I've taken to the path.  I premeditate as to what to do should a fateful event like a snake injecting his venom ever occur.

As I embarked on what’s now a brick-lain trail before it turns to raw soil, I perceived a towering figure who stepped into my shadow.  I turned around to see who it was.  A stranger to me, but in traditional attire, dhoti and kurta - was this tall blonde-haired stocky Russian.

I beckoned him to join.  His English is poor.  My Russian is awful.  We decided to penetrate through the dark together and not talk but chant japa.  I had the trail chalked out. He trusted my turns when they came.

We walked on and on in the quiet of the night.  Only in the distance could we hear a little pop music from across the Jalanghi river.  We weren't bitten by a cobra, only by that sound which is not congruous to the local spiritual atmosphere.  "Never mind!"  I thought.  Change what you can, not what you can't.  Focus on the sound that falls off your tongue and your lips.  "Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare".

The Russian-walking comrade goes by the name of Vedaguhya.  It turns out he's an expert massage therapist.  He offered to massage my legs, feeling an obligation I suppose.  In returning the favour, I offered a newly-acquired lota (a container for water).

In the dham (spiritual abode) everyone tries to resign to exchanges of giving.  It heals.

May the Source be with you!

4 KM