Number 2: Tamil Nadu (Tiruvannamalai, Arunachala, and Ramanashram; Sri Rangam, Chidambaram, Tanjavur, Chennai), and the foothills of the Himalayas (Hardwar, Kankhal, Rishikesh, Dehradhun, Vashishta Guha).

February 13, 2003

We have relocated to a new flat on the quiet side of the mountain. Last night was our first in Tiru without sleeping as in Grand Central Station. Where we were by the ashram would have been unbearable were it not for its proximity to the ashram and the mountain. Some of the trucks and buses actually had horns of the freight train variety, which sounded any and all times of the day and night. We are now in a second floor flat in a small neighborhood of five cottages, the only such modern ones in this area, with a view from the roof which is stunning, both of the mountain, and the surrounding fields and not so distant hills/mountains. The only sounds which disturbed last night were the ceiling fans and the occasional dog bark.

We continue to meet interesting and wonderful people. Yesterday afternoon we went to a spur of the mountain and each found a nearby isolated area to meditate. As the area I had chosen soon became an ant haven, I relocated to the back of a nearby old temple (the Kannapa temple) to meditate. Not long after, an interesting-looking sadhu also sat near and began his meditation, sitting like one who knew well how to do so. Later, when he got up to depart, I asked him if he spoke English, which he did very well. We proceeded to talk for a quarter of an hour about spiritual life and sannyasa. When I asked him what was the most important thing in spiritual life he would advise a new sannyasi, he replied: “Practice, abhyasa, is most important, as by continued effort one gains success.” Banat, banat, ban jai! It was nice to simply sit, sadhaka to sadhaka, and talk of spiritual life.

February 13, 2003

This afternoon we moved out of Ramanashram and into our new “apartment” on the west side of the mountain, just down the street from Varuna Giri Lingam and Swami Ramanananda’s house. So far, so good. Our rooms are the entire second floor (living room, two bedrooms, kitchen, and bathroom), and the view of Arunachala from the rooftop is just about the best. We are just across the street from the inner pradakshina trail, and the building we are in is actually on the outer pradakshina route. Already we can see it’s much, much quieter. Now we just need to get Swami Ramanananda’s suggestions on nearby places on the mountain that will be good meditation spots.

Pradakshina does seem to have its benefits, but sitting meditation is obviously a better use of the time so our only further plans for pradakshina are on the full moon night, when we will be accompanied by Swami Balakrishnananda.

Last night he took us to the Yogi Ram Surat Kumar Ashram for evening bhajans and then to meet Ma Devaki. The entire facility is very large and includes rows of pretty upscale guest cottages. In Swami Satyananda’s (the sannyasini) words, the main temple looks like a big frog. God knows who designed it, probably some European, since it looks unlike any temple we’ve ever seen. Inside was a surprise. We expected a finished, conventional style temple with large crowds of people singing bhajans. We found the huge hall to be virtually bare, with a life-size statue of Yogi Ram Surat Kumar kind of in the center/front, and only about eight women and six men cranking out a pretty feeble kirtan, a cappella. The plan was that we would meet Ma Devaki after the bhajans, but they got her and she came in especially to meet us and show us around.

She seems to be a very sattwic and pure person, with genuine devotion to her guru. She brought up the subject of their sadhana, which is remembrance of God’s Name, and I have to give her credit: she talked about all these Europeans who have some intellectual knowledge and think they can come and practice self-inquiry, and end up doing “God knows what” (her words), and she explained how real self-inquiry is only possible after the mind has been purified by God’s Name.

(By the way, on our last visit to Swami Ramanananda he brought out an article from an overseas Ramana publication and had Mangalananda read it to us aloud. It was a great essay on how the best thing all these “Advaita gurus” could do is to leave their disciples and their work and try to save their own souls. Swamiji knows his onions, and he was delighted by the article.)

Ma Devaki showed us Yogi’s samadhi, which is a three-sided mock native hut set up as a shrine at the back of the main hall. Behind that is the room in which he took his mahasamadhi, with his bed and various articles he used. She told us that Yogiji explained that the cosmos was controlled from where he was, so there was hell to pay if you moved any of his belongings without asking. Then she took us to Justice Arunachala, a retired magistrate and main disciple of Yogi Ram Surat Kumar, introducing him as Yogi’s spiritual successor. We spent a few hours talking with him in his office, mostly hearing his account of his first meetings with his guru, miraculous appearances since his death, Yogiji’s declaration that his name is five times more powerful than Ram Nam, etc.

“Boring” and “narrow” best describe this ashram. Justice Arunachala had the words but not the tune, and personally I never trust a person who so freely volunteers information about his spiritual visions. Despite some talk about universality, the only pictures anywhere (except a few in the new meditation hall) were of the guru, and their were lots of them. Yogi Ram Surat Kumar may have been a saint or at least a holy person, but it is obvious that something has been very quickly lost in the translation. This ashram has that terrible combination of guruism and organizationalism.

Swami Ramanananda was a good tour guide on our visit to the Arunachaleswara Temple. I don’t know if the creators of the temple really did have in mind all the esoteric aspects and effects of the temple that Swamiji described, but it was still interesting. The Shakti temple there is to Unammalai, which means something to the effect of “She whose breasts have never given milk,” meaning the energy is turned inward not outward towards the world. Swamiji said She is also called “Jnanamba,” Mother of Jnana. We notice that most of the Parvati shrines (or whatever Shakti form is worshipped in a Shiva temple) always have a Nandi looking into the shrine, not a lion like you sometimes see with other Devis. Swamiji said Dakshinamurti1 also means “formless light” (dakshina=light, amurti=formless), and explained the story as an allegory of spiritual illumination, the sanatkumaras2 representing chit, buddhi, manas, and ahankara, all unable to attain liberation by their own efforts and therefore turning to the formless Light for illumination

The great number of foreigners here really does detract from the experience of India. One of the great things about our Bengal trip was that there were virtually none around except a few at the Belur guest house who were just fine. As a group, the foreigners who come to Ramanashram are more serious and conservative than a lot of what you see walking around. But we would all be that much happier if we saw no more women in their “Indian outfits” and men in their Arunachala t-shirts, etc. The other evening, who wandered into the evening services at Ramanashram but a short, fat, old Western lady in her leopard-skin Capri pants and top, carrying a huge purse, wearing a wide-brim straw hat, and sporting a huge red tilak. Well, we have to give her credit–at least she was there!

February 13, 2003

Today was rather uneventful since we took care of some shopping and food arrangements with Cobra Swami. We will be having our main (really the only) meal with him at his ashram cooked by his attendants. So things are working out well. Although we are in a quiet place, the meditation seems better to us on the Ramana Ashram side of the Hill, so tomorrow a rickshaw will come for us early in the morning to that area and we will spend the day Oming. I will not be surprised if the end of the month finds us heeding the call of the Ganga. Really, Arunachala feels more like the world’s largest Shiva Linga than Shiva Himself (whatever that is supposed to feel like). We will have to go to Mount Kailash to compare!

Today we meditated at the Kennapa Temple where a saint pulled out his eye as some kind of penance. As we were coming up to the temple steps, a herd of Western followers of a “full blown mahatma” swami-woman and her husband, also in gerua, passed by us with big smiles and apparently ready for hugging and tapping potential bank accounts. We met one of those present later who is a fool but good for gossip, and he said that it was unbelievable to some of the groupies that we simply passed by. Actually, we were thinking of running by but we were too tired, and they were not worth the effort. The Swamini is reported to not sleep, eat only once a week, and gives a great hug. She is actually living with her husband/swami right across the lane from us. We are especially careful to avoid her. We wonder if she is about to “burst” onto the West, and her picture soon to appear in the newspapers. The name to avoid is “Radha.”

February 14, 2003

We are tired and blessed!

We spent our morning meditation hours in and around Skandashram, and then walked down into town for a late South Indian lunch at the Vrindaban Hotel (shuddh veg). Then we got a few winks in the portico by the Arunachaleswara Temple tank, and planned to spend our afternoon meditation time above the Patalalinga shrine at the Temple. Bharat had other plans.

While we were waiting we were approached by many different curious Indians, including the temple police who wanted to be introduced to us and make pranams, and most importantly, Guru Om Panduranga Sadhu Swami (!), a North Indian type sadhu/brahmin who lives in a kutir on Arunachala but is active in some undefined way with one of the side temples at the main temple.

Panduranga gave us a guided tour of the multi-deva shrine he takes care of, also an Adi Shesha shrine. This tour started by him putting a sprig of tulasi by one of our ears, some in our hands, some in our mouths, and then there ensued a succession of blessings: a long recitation from the Shiva Purana, nine-circle parikrama around the tree by Adi Shesha, then he applied ALL the Shiva marks to each of us (forearms, upper arms, chest, neck, you name it). Then we visited the temple garden where he gathered various flowers, tulasi and bel leaves for the upcoming offering, and garlanded Sadasivananda with a glass mala he said was from Kashi Vishwanath, followed by the appropriate bills for himself and several temple worker bystanders.

After giving our largest flowers to Nandi, Panduranga took us down into the Patalalinga shrine, where he arranged for the priest to accept our special offerings, and then obtained permission for us to sit and meditate there in the tiny shrine–maybe about six feet by six feet, with a large Nandi in the center, with the going and coming Indians scooting by as we meditated just a few feet from where the young Ramana spent so much time. Let’s say it was a very special place to meditate. The priest put our japa malas on top of the Shiva Linga and said some prayers, and then we went back up and sat for meditation. It was one of the days in India where you just had to let things take their course and see where Mother India leads you.

We also had several darshans of Rukmini the elephant as we toured the temple, and we gave her a three-course meal: appetizers of bananas (consumed at rapid speed), her favorite green grass, and a dessert of rock candy which a very excited Rukmini sucked up at full speed, as fast as we could dole it out! As near as we could tell, she was a happy elephant!

Afterwards we stopped by Dr. Manickan (the Ramana herbs doctor). The doctor was glad to see us, and it was no problem that we just showed up. His medicines are very effective and he really does a lot of charitable work with the healing gifts he has inherited. He called his wife and youngest daughter (about two) over to meet us, which was a real honor. These people are REAL HINDUS, and among the best we’ve met since we were in Bengal. The wife has a handful of degrees and is working on her PhD, but she is a modest Hindu wife. The daughter recited several slokas for us: Guru Brahma, Guru Vishnu... and something to Mrityunjaya. Pretty good for two years old. The doctor and his wife are very eager to have us come to their home for dinner, and he also wants to take us to the small temple where he was raised, where Ramana was when his mother made her first visit to Arunachala

We ended the day by picking up a few things in the bazaar that surrounds the temple. The bazaar at night is one of our favorite places, even though we’ve spent very little time there. It’s noisy, crazy, chaotic, totally natural, and packed with humans going about their business of living human lives.

The Northern India bug has definitely bitten us, and we’re giving a lot of thought to how and where we could spent Shivaratri up North, and then end our trip in Madras as originally planned.

February 15, 2003

The longer we’ve been here, the more we are getting acquainted with various people here in Tiru and our stay is getting better. We’ve started having daily lunch with Swami Ramanananda, which means a daily satsang. This evening we ran into Swami Satyananda–this is another Satyananda, from Spain, who has been living in India as a sadhu for about twenty years. He invited us to his small room and we spent a few hours talking with him. He was initiated by Muktananda back in the mid-seventies and ran some of Muktananda’s European centers until Swami M left his body. Then Satyananda felt it was time to leave the world of organizations and went to India. Although he looks upon Muktananda as his guru, he has had several teachers since then, spent time with Mother Krishnabai, Annamalai Swami and others.

Swamiji is a very sober, pukka3 kind of Shaivite4 sannyasi. He highly, highly recommended going to Chidambaram, which we could include during our Sri Rangam trip. He said he’s seen two images in India that he especially felt were like seeing the living God: Nataraja at Chidambaram and Balaji at Tirupati. Sounds good to us. There is also a Kali Temple near Chidambaram, kind of a sister temple, that he said we must go to.

February 17, 2003

We decided to take it easy today–we slept past dawn and puttered around till lunch, when we took the five minute walk to Swami Ramanananda’s for lunch which he has so kindly arranged for us while we stay on this side of the mountain. A day at ease it may have been, but not uneventful.

As we walked, we were approached by a Swami on a bicycle who spoke English, who said he had seen us at Ramanashram and elsewhere and wanted to become acquainted. Earlier he had thought we were with ISKCON, but as time passed, perhaps our demeanor changed his mind. He is a jutta-haired sadhu named Ananda Giri, with an intelligent looking face, and future meetings with him promise to be very interesting and informative.

As a good sadhu, he was reluctant to divulge much regarding his pre-sannyas life, but we did find out that he was Bengali born, of a well-to-do family, and that he had enough experience of life in various fields to dispel the allurement that they might have otherwise held for him. He has been a sannyasi for about eleven years, having lived with his guru in Kankhal at the Surat Giri Bungalow. He has been all over India in his wanderings, took two years to do Narmada pradakshina, and for the past four years has been living near Arunachala. He said he didn’t know whether he chose the mountain or it chose him, but it was obvious that he had that special love for the area we have seen in so many. We hope to visit him before our stay here ends.

When visiting Swami Ramanananda for today’s lunch, he as usual kept our attention with his stories. It seems that during his forty plus years in Tiru he has made the acquaintance of many sadhus here, and due to his knowledge of the agamas,5 it has fallen to him on many occasions to perform the samadhi rites upon the passing of sadhus. He said that he has found that the state of the sadhus sometimes becomes evident during and in the days after their burial, casting a sort of twilight glimmer of that attainment over his mind for a period, which then dissipates as the subtler koshas dissipate after a number of days.

One such sadhu was Natanananda Swami, a close disciple of Bhagavan, a Tamil scholar who actually worked with Ramana Maharshi in the formulation and finalization of certain of Bhagavan’s Tamil works. He had the desire for sannyas which he took, but soon thereafter went back to wearing white, while of course still living the life of a sannyasi. As his end approached, Ramanananda was with him, as were a few others, including Kunju Swami. When Ramanananda saw that he no longer had strength to move his pillow, he knew the end (or beginning) was near. At one point, Natanananda asked the time, which was then 3:30 a.m. When told, he said, “ Now is a good time.” Ramanananda then asked, “ a good time for what?” Natanananda simply looked at Ramanananda, and then breathed his last. Ramanananda then prepared the body in lotus before rigor set in, and told the ashram authorities of the passing. Anyhow, as time passed, ashram officials came to him to see to proper shastric burial. During the ritual and for the next ten days or so Swamiji said he experienced a very great blessing and upliftment from Natanananda.

Natanananda’s passing was one of several that affected him as described above, as well as Muruganar, and a Swami called by people “Po Swami” which means Flower Swami. He was an eccentric-seeming sadhu, who daily did pradakshina of the hill and was sort of a “bag-lady” type, carrying around all kinds of strange and useless stuff. He would sometimes be seen speaking animatedly to some tree or other as if using it as a substitute for people, or mankind in general, reprimanding it in quite colorful language for some fault or sin. Sometimes when Ramanananda, who knew him well, would enquire into the nature of his tirade, he would, now showing no eccentricity at all, simply smile and say‚ “This is not for you.” He would often cover his closely shaven face and head with vibhuti so that only the dark circles of his eye sockets showed so that he looked like a clown. In his daily parikramas he would gather flowers and offer them in various temples, singing hymns of devotion, frequently with tears in his eyes. Ramanananda provided for him in various ways during their long acquaintance, as he continues to do for many of the sadhus in the area. When toward the end Flower Swami was showing signs of exhaustion, and Ramanananda suggested he take it easy, He said, “This body must eventually drop, let it drop going round Arunachala.” In the end he succumbed to fatigue, and was taken care of by friends of Ramanananda. A couple of days later, as he was thinking strongly of him, friends came and informed him of Po Swami’s passing. It came as somewhat of a surprise to Swamiji when, after Po Swami’s burial, such a strong spiritual state began to affect him (which he considered as an echo of Flower Swami’s attainment), as he had not previously ascribed to him such an advanced stature. But he said such experiences as this overshadowing are only temporary, diminishing in time, and can only serve as a goad to making attainment one’s own.

February 20, 2003

As we wind up our stay in Tiruvanammalai we continue to meet new people and get a clearer and deeper picture of Tiru and India in general. This morning we went to our appointment with Swami Satyananda, the Spanish sannyasi. We talked there for a short while and then went to the Yogi Ram Surat Kumar Ashram for bhiksha, which began with some chants and kirtan, then some pretty basic fare shared with about fifty other sadhus, presided over by Justice Arunachala, who was very, very glad to see us. (We found out today from Devananda that Justice-ji quit his position on the Supreme Court and went to serve at the ashram because he wouldn’t take bribes and was tired of the “suitcases full of money” justice that runs things on every level of the Indian government.) Then we visited more with Swami Satyananda at his room, ran a few errands, and went to see Swami Devananda, whom Satyananda introduced us to at the sadhu feed.

We spent about three hours with Swami Devananda today, and could easily have listened to him for twice as long. He was born in Canada and first came to India in 1967, and has been living in India for the past thirty years, first living with Muktananda and then moving out of that scene, going through all the samskaras and becoming a dasanami sannyasi–very orthodox. He has some unusual claims to fame, including being openly threatened by the minions of Fr. Bede Griffiths with both secret poisoning and deportation. It seems that Swamiji entered into a correspondence with Fr. Bede about the anti-Hindu, Catholic evangelizing nature of Shantivanam, and the Catholic efforts in India in general. Swamiji is good friends with Ram Swarup and also Sita Ram Goel (author of Why I Am A Hindu), who published these letters with Fr. Bede’s permission. Devananda came out looking like the winner, which infuriated Fr. Bede. Ram Swarup then took up correspondence with Fr. Bede that got really feisty. Meanwhile, Fr. Bede learned that Devananda was a foreigner, which for some reason made him even madder. One thing led to another, and eventually Devananda found his kutir surrounded by Christian evangelical centers on all sides, blaring “Hallelujah” and “Praise the Lord” until 3:00 in the morning.

Swamiji is a wonderful combination of great love for and knowledge of Sanatana Dharma, plus complete candor and realism–especially in reaction to the Christian missionary efforts to subvert Hinduism. On a lighter side, he has many amusing stories about different “personalities” in India.

Date?

Our last day in Tiru was kind of like our last day in Bengal, trying to stuff a ton of visits into a small time. Unrealistically, we planned to spend just a short time saying goodbye to a number of people, and of course each visit expanded beyond our plan. We had lunch at the home of Swami Ramanananda’s disciples, Vijayan and Shanti, then spent some more time with Swamis Satyananda (Spanish), Satyananda (sannyasi), Ma Devaki at Yogi Ram Surat Kumar’s ashram (where they were doing hours of kirtan of Yogiji’s name on the occasion of his samadhi anniversary), and then finally paid a visit to the hut of Ananda Giri, the Bengali swami. In the evening we paid a final visit to Swami Ramanananda. He is an amazing person, and he definitely peeled off a few deeper layers of himself, as he talked with us until 1:00 in the morning about his experiences with Ma, with Paramanandamayi Ma (a one hundred and eight year old woman disciple of Trailanga Swami), and an amazing avadhuta that lived by the road outside his kutir in Tiru for about four years.

Mr. Ramanan, the president of Ramanashram, invited us to stop by the ashram for breakfast the next morning (Thursday) before leaving town, and was very gracious to us, inviting us to come again. Fortunately we took some time to stop by Swami Devananda’s kutir, and we got him on videotape. Swamiji can be very entertaining and has a wealth of information about life in India and Hinduism.

Devananda summed up Arunachala pretty well–that the divine presence there is a subtle one and a fiery one, that just by living there you are undergoing some kind of subtle tapas. He said that the Lord of the Mountain impresses Himself on the mind in an indelible and subtle way, which will continue to be felt and draw a person after they leave Tiruvanammali. Now that we’ve completed our stay here, Tiruvanammalai does look to us like a place well worth spending time and returning to, a place for prolonged, serious tapasya.

The drive from Tiru to Sri Rangam was much better than our driving from Madras to Tiru. The countryside is beautiful, in many places very green fields and trees, and the rural people we saw seemed nicer. Great weather and a complete absence of foreigners helped too. Sri Rangam is much neater and cleaner than Tiruvanammalai–maybe this reflects the difference between Vaishnavas6 and Shaivites.

Right now we are in our room in a brahmachari math in Sri Rangam. When we first arrived we had some difficulty finding the math, so we were directed to the house of Narasingha’s brother, Murali Bhattar–very fortunate, since they served us food there, in the very house where Sri Chaitanya and his disciples once stayed for about a month! After settling in at the math and taking a bath, we were taken to the temple for darshan.

The two temple priests that have been our hosts today have been wonderful to us, very generous, considerate, and attentive to our needs. It has been one of those days where all the doors have been open to us; we’ve bypassed all the waiting lines and been taken right up to the front of the shrines, and they seem to look up on us as VIPs of some sort. The priest who was our main guide fielded and deflected all the priestly “gimme some rupees” action that we ran into at every shrine (we caught “California” and “Murali Bhattar” being frequently evoked as Words of Power amidst the Tamilian glossolalia), so we actually got to concentrate on the darshan and blessings themselves. And these blessings were very great, and never stopped coming.

Many, maybe most, of the inner shrines are very, very dark, and the main images are black stone with gold covers on the hands, feet, etc., but also large almond-shaped gold eyes with black irises right in the middle, which gives them this strange wide-eyed look that adds to the unearthly effect. Usually the priest lights a dipa7 and then begins by showing a light on the Lord’s face and explaining different features of the murti, moving down towards the feet. So the deity kind of gradually “appears” before you in the dark cavern.

The Shesha-Narayan8 in the main shrine is amazing, wonderful, something from another world–huge, benevolent, and very divine. (Sorry, it can’t be put into words). Even before you see Him, you can feel Him as you approach the main shrine. The Ram-Sita-Lakshman-Hanuman murtis were also very special. Although each of the devas here has its own special quality, they all radiate a similar quality of great benevolence, love, and blessing.

We spent some extra time meditating at the samadhi temple of Ramanuja. The priests told us that the large “murti” there is actually the body of Ramanuja, and one can believe it. We were surprised to see the body of Ramanuja garlanded with what looked like very large rudrakshas, but these turned out to be a garland of shalagramas.9 At our request the priest touched all of our rudraksha malas to Ramanuja’s murti/body.

The temple complex is huge, boasting twenty-nine gopurams,10 all ornately decorated with brightly-colored deities (except for one white gopuram). The golden gopuram over the main shrine is called the Pranavakara (like Omkara), and unfortunately we never could get a satisfactory explanation why, mostly because of the language problem. The temple is said to be over a thousand years old, and the whole complex is rich with detailed stoned carvings, frescoes, and framed Hindu iconography.

This evening we will visit with Mr. Bhattar, and tomorrow (Friday) we are scheduled to go to a special darshan at the temple in the morning, a visit to a Shiva temple Swami Satyananda told us about, then on to Thanjavur and Chidambaram.

Friday was one of our most packed days. It began with the first darshan of Lord Ranganatha at Sri Rangam, around 5:00 a.m.

To give you a little more complete picture of South Indian temples, they are laid out as temples within temples within temples. By the time you actually get to the main shrine, you’ve been through numerous long pillared hallways, up several successions of steps. Since there are hardly any windows anywhere, It’s kind of like going deeper and deeper into a basement, only you’re going slightly upwards rather than down. We were placed in the VIP section immediately in front of the shrine entrance (kind of the outer outer shrine, which is before the outer inner shrine), along with a couple of dozen other people which included some math mahant that was dressed like one of the Shankaracharyas. Outside of this area there were literally hundreds of people lined up to begin their day with darshan.

First a man sat before the huge, ornate metal doors (which were open, but curtained), playing a vina and singing, accompanied by a young boy who occasionally joined in. Some time after they were finished there came a sound echoing down the temple hallways: “Boom–boom–boom–” Then some more rapid booms on drums and the sound of trumpeting horns or shennais. What was coming nearer? We looked to the right down the stairs to the portico where we stood, and in sauntered the biggest elephant any of us ever saw, Andar, sporting what is absolutely the world’s largest Sri Vaishnava11 tilak, with his bearded sadhu mahout riding him and carrying a huge copper kumbha of water from the Kaveri river, drawn that morning for the day’s pujas.

Andar lowered himself down to the ground, the mahout passed down the kumbha and dismounted, and then Andar proceeded up the stairs–towards us! We all cleared the way and he came to stand before the veiled outer doors of the shrine, patiently waiting with the rest of us, occasionally swishing the world’s largest elephant tail, and sometime scratching the back of his leg with another of his legs.

A beautiful coffee and white cow then was guided up the stairs to the portico and taken through the curtain into the shrine. It was the archetypal cow of Krishna lila,12 beautiful eyes and color, garlanded with flowers and bells and decorated with tilak in many places of her body.

Then–the curtain was quickly whisked open and shut, and Andar raised his trunk and saluted the Lord with three blasts of his trunk and went to his knees. All this happened in a few seconds, and as you can imagine, took us completely by surprise. India, India!

Having had the first darshan of the day, Andar was taken aside (a few feet from us) and given the first prasad and tirtha13 of the day, then garlanded with a single strand of flowers which he promptly ate.

At some point Murali Bhattar, Narasingha’s brother, introduced himself, and at the time of darshan took us in past the inner gate, as close to the inner shrine as you can get without actually stepping over the threshold, and took quite a long time illuminating the different parts of Lord Ranganatha and the other deities there. It was as our first darshan, unearthly and wonderful.

Murali gave us a tour of the temple and the various shrines, all the while explaining its history and his family’s history. There are twelve families of priests serving the temple, and his family has at least ten generations they can trace to their priesthood at this temple.

Our first stop was to visit Andar in one of the nearby porticos, and we discovered to our surprise that his mahout is a Shaivite, actually a scholar in some Shaivite scriptures, who recently made a small shrine that replicates the shrine at Chidambaram (more on this later).

When Murali took us to the new Rama temple where he serves, he explained that for some reason a few years ago he was given the keys (and responsibility) to this temple, which was virtually in ruins. He was perplexed as what to do and prayed to the Lord, and then called Narasingha in the U.S. to ask for financial assistance. When he called, Narasingha explained that he already knew about the whole situation: “No need to explain. Lord Rama appeared to me in a dream last night and told me to donate X rupees to you for the renovation of His temple.”

Murali explained that the murti of Ramanuja is truly his body (or mummy), which is annually re-covered with camphor and sandal paste. He also said the system and rules of worship followed at Sri Rangam were codified by Ramanuja and that they would never change, since they have a holy fear of Ramanuja who is believed to be watching over all that is going on there.

Soon after we went to Andar’s residence, where his mahout’s Shiva puja was in progress. We all sat down and joined in, offering flower petals to the Lord. So Shiva is worshipped in Vaikuntha!14 Of course, there were two brief interruptions, when the mahout had to take calls on his cell phone.

Having walked around Sri Rangam with Murali, I now have a better idea of the Vaishnava ideal of “heaven on earth.” The night before when we went out to look for an email shop we were struck by how good the vibration was, even on a street full of shops. Of course, all this was within the outermost walls of the temple, and further in are more shops and the residences of the priests (the temple is a succession of walled cities within walled cities, with homes and shops up and down the streets within the walls). As Murali walked us down the street by his house past the vegetable sellers making their morning business, it felt very pure, very clean and orderly (in an Indian way), earthly life as a Vaishnava would most like it.

Murali took us into his home shrine and showed us his family deities: very small, but very old and very special. He showed us a photo of his father offering a sari on some special festival. As he unwound the sari and held it in the air it actually became “filled” with the form of a woman, as if the Devi was showing Her acceptance of the sari by wearing it. Hopefully this will show up on our film. On his last day he told the family, “In two hours I am going to leave my body.” Two hours later, a little after midnight and therefore technically on ekadashi,15 he went out to the entrance portico of his house which had been graced by the presence of Sri Chaitanya, turned towards the house and pranamed to the ground, and left his body.

Murali told us that he has found that he can ask Lord Ranganatha any question, however small, and if it is important to us He will answer it. He once wondered how the Lord, Who is purity itself, could have so many wives, while earthly men are limited to one, so he asked the Lord. That night the Lord appeared to Him in a dream, and Murali worshipped Him and carried Him about like a young child on his shoulder. As he carried the Lord back to His house. He asked the Lord if He was pleased with his service. He said he was. Then Murali asked about the wives. The Lord explained that just as Murali was now experiencing Him as a child on his shoulders, so He was to His women devotees and companions, who were as His sisters and mothers. It is only man in his ignorance that interprets this relationship as man and wife, He explained.

From Sri Rangam we went to a nearby temple to Jambukeswara, one of the five Pancha Bhuta shrines of Shiva, this one being Shiva as water (Arunachala is Shiva as fire). The water offered to the linga comes from a spring seeping up between the stones of the inner shrine, as it has done for over a thousand years. The devi shrine there to Akhilandeshwari was also very nice.

On the way to Chidambaram–the long, long, boring way to Chidambaram, during which our country-boy Tiru driver stopped every third town to ask the way to Chidambaram–we also stopped at the very ancient Brihadishvara Temple at Thanjavur, where we had darshan of the lingam, which is probably twenty feet tall counting the yoni in which it sits, and who knows how wide. Surprisingly there was not much of a special vibration to this. The Nandi that faces the temple and is the second largest Nandi in India was something special.

This long Friday started with Sri Rangam darshan at 5:00 a.m. and ended with ten courses of temple prasad at the home of one of the priests of Chidambaram.

We’ve had some first impressions of Madras that we don’t want to forget to mention. Although it appears to be more Western-savvy than other Indian cities we’ve been in, it is obviously still truly Indian. When you visit here, how would you like to eat at the Hotel Runs? Do you think we should walk or take a rickshaw to the Hotel Traffic Jam? If you have any dental problems, would you like to go to the Toothfully Yours Dental Clinic? (If you haven’t already guessed, I’m not making ANY of these names up.)

As our trip proceeds with its ups and occasional downs, our understanding of life in India continues to expand and mature. Bharat Mata Ki Jai!

February 24, 2003

It is Monday evening here in Chennai and we have been busy today on many last-minute errands around town. Earlier today we showed our video of the Sunday night bhajans to Swami Jnanadananda, who is the managing swami here second only to Swami Gautamananda, and he was delighted with them and wants us to send him a copy for his audio-visual department when we return to the US. In a very short time it appears we have become very dear to some of the swamis and brahmacharis here, and we look forward to coming back and spending more time.

Tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m. we fly to Delhi and then go by car to Kankhal. In the past few days we visited the Kapaleeshwara Temple, Saint Thomas Cathedral (more about this later!), went to the seashore (P.U.!), and went to a fantastic Sunday evening bhajan in the Ramakrishna Mission temple with about one thousand and four hundred people in attendance.

When your feet come to Chennai, do you think they’ll want to visit the Foot House? Or will they be more interested in the Shoe Museum? If your shoes pass on here, will they go to Shoe Paradise? Visit beautiful Chennai and find out more about these wondrous places (again, all true).

February 26, 2003

Picking up on the story of our long Friday, we arrived in Chidambaram just after sunset and went to the home of Sri Umanath Dikshitar. The Dikshitars are the Brahmin clan that conduct most of the worship at Chidambaram and own the main shrine/temple, and they now number three hundred and twenty-five. We soon met most of this particular extended family, who were at first shy and curious and then delighted to meet us. Westerners rarely visit there, and Western swamis were a new flavor for them. Umanath is the patriarch of this family, apparently retired, very nice to us but definitely able to be tough with the clan members when needed, as we saw on a few occasions. He introduced us to his oldest son Kedar, who was our main helper and companion during our visit, and Kedar rushed us to the temple for the arati. In one of our earlier letters I mentioned observing the slow, measured walk of one of the swamis at Jayrambati. We now have a new expression we use: “Kedar speed.” There are no flies on Kedar! We had to walk as fast as we could, almost running, to keep up with him on the way to the temple. He even walks up stairs “like an Englishman,” several steps at a time.

At the temple we met more of the Dikshitar Brahmins, whom you’ve already seen in the Darshan video. Although there’s quite a range of ages amongst them, most of the priests actively engaged in the worshipped are the younger men, about eighteen to twenty-five. Again, everyone was intensely busy. Kedar situated us on the raised portico in front of the main shrine, and we waited with everyone for arati. The portico was packed and we were sardined amidst a lot of short Tamils, so we could still see the shrine.

The temple is arranged like most of the South Indian temples we’ve been to: temples within a temple, porticos, pillared hallways, and tanks. The main shrine is faced with several sets of tall doors covered with silver bas-reliefs, and these doors were closed at the time we arrived. The advent of the Lord’s darshan began with the ringing of bells: many smaller bells suspended on a metal rod, and then two very large bells that boomed out that anahata16 kind of toll, echoing throughout the entire temple. The bells alone almost made you dizzy. Then the doors opened and we had darshan of Lord Nataraj, Who was standing in a raised inner shrine within the shrine sthala.17 At one point in the arati the priest goes into the inmost shrine and waves a camphor “Christmas tree” dipa before the Lord–not the “Christmas tree lights” variety, but more like the whole tree has been set on fire. Then he comes out and holds it towards the worshippers to see and wave their hands towards. When this happened, we had to struggle to stay standing. The simple act of hundreds of packed Indians raising their hands had a domino effect in which a swell passed through the crowd. But these were Indians, not Westerners, and there is that pervasive spirit of “we’re all in this together,” so a good time was had by all. Such an experience in a Western crowd would be an unimaginable horror.

The Lord’s murti is made of solid gold and about four feet tall. He was so bedecked with flowers, precious jewels (including a diamond-studded Tamil Om hanging around his neck), and His special clothes that it took a while to make out the tandava18 pose. His presence is quite different from Lord Ranganatha.

Later we got to go up into the “outer inner” shrine, and observed the evening abhishekam19 performed by Umanath’s third son, who was the main priest for that day. It was there that we met “the real” Lord of Chidambaram. Although the golden murti is the chief focus of everyone’s devotion, at the foot of the murti in a silver box is a sphatika20 linga which Adi Shankara21 is said to have received from Shiva Himself, and which has been worshipped here since the seventh century. It is only three inches tall at the most, counting the yoni (the actual linga is probably a little more than an inch tall). Several times a day the silver box is brought out of the inner shrine into the next forecourt of the shrine, the linga is taken out and placed on a small silver base in the middle of a rectangular silver stand with a trough on one side, and then worshipped with all sorts of pourings: water, honey, sandal paste water, bananas, cooked rice, flowers, rosewater, and more.

One of the big surprises of Chidambaram is the Vishnu temple. There is a spot where you can stand in front of the Shiva shrine, and then turn ninety degrees and look right into the Vishnu shrine, which is a large Shesha-Narayan with some other Vishnu and Devi utsava murtis before it. So we had darshan of Lord Vishnu in Chidambaram! As in Sri Rangam the Shaivite Dikshitars are completely accepting and even proud of all this (especially the fact that this temple theoretically has the only spot from which you can stand and see both Shiva and Vishnu), and Umanath’s third son who was doing the arati that night is named after Krishna.

Sometime between the two aratis we met a very old sadhu named Shiva Swami, who has lived in the temple for many years. We pranamed and then just sat and looked at him, and he looked at us, and that was enough.

After the final arati each night, the Lord’s footprints are taken to a bed chamber, where they’re placed in a swing along with an utsava murti of Parvati. We were very lucky to be here on a Friday night, when this procedure is much more elaborate. A little of this was shown in the Chidambaram footage in Darshan, but it really didn’t get across. As the Lord’s footprints were brought out to the palanquin, all the priests surrounded the palanquin, plus hundreds of devotees and lots of “holy noise”–nadaswaram (a big shennai), very loud drums (a particular South Indian style), and clashing cymbals. Then the procession began, moving in a complete circle through the long hallways surrounding the main sthala. So far this sounds noisy but tame–wrong! The procession stopped at several “stations” in the hallways, where prasad and lights were offered to the Lord. But instead of a stately or leisurely procession, the priests carrying the palanquin moved at “Kedar speed,” and woe to you if you got in the way (which nobody did). So just imagine a gaggle of South Indian Brahmins chanting and running forward with a palanquin preceded by torches, hundreds of excited Indians marching before and after, most of them either clapping or clanging a pounding single rhythmic beat, with nadaswaram and drums whipping up the excitement even more, and you get a little bit of the idea. To our great delight this was not brief, maybe taking twenty minutes or so, and was definitely one of the high points of our trip, at least on the level of sheer spiritual hedonism.

The procession ended at the sleep chamber, with various chants and offerings and Brahmins of all ages (from six to sixty, literally) running to and fro around this shrine.

Then we were taken back to the Dikshitars home, where we partook of the Lord’s ten-course prasad, with one of Umanath’s daughters or daughters-in-law taking great delight in standing by and practicing her English on us by announcing each course and laughing the whole time.

The next morning, which came a little too soon for us, there was another abhishekam, this one sponsored by us, again with us standing close by observing all. Although the ritual was identical to the previous day’s abhishekam, we felt like each ablution effected us–which makes sense, since we had been led through a recitation of mantras before the worship which included our names, etc. After the abhishekam we had darshan of “the secret of Chidambaram,” the invisible lingam. (I didn’t see anything!), then a tour of the temple and a visit to a nearby Kali Temple, which had a very strange bas-relief murti that was completely covered in bright red-orange kum-kum except for Her black eyes, which made it look like the Devi was wearing sunglasses.

Another time as we were waiting for the morning arati at Chidambaram, some Indian schoolboys crowded around us and asked us where we were from. I told them America. One nine or ten-year-old boy said something very excitedly and strongly, and I finally understood he was saying “Believe God! Believe God!” [Believe in God!] And gesturing towards Lord Nataraja, he continued: “Surely He will save you!”

The trip to Chennai took a long time, and again we arrived at Ramakrishna Math in the early evening hours. We got along very well–monks with monks. They’re a very good group, with a spirit much like that of Advaita Ashram. And they are universal; this is the only Ramakrishna Mission center where we saw quite a few of the monks wearing “sectarian marks,” Shaivite or Vaishnava tilaks. They were very happy to see our slide show about our trip so far, especially all the places associated with Thakur and Sri Ma. Again we got lucky, this time by being on the spot for the weekly special bhajans on Sunday nights led very well by Swami Jnanadananda–even luckier because it was Devi night, and all the kirtan was either for Holy Mother or for the Devi.

The Saint Thomas Cathedral in Madras was an interesting mixture of spiritual presence and spiritual desolation. We all felt a holy presence at Saint Thomas’ tomb, which is in a crypt down some steps just before the altar. There is a shrine to the Virgin Mary in an alcove on the side, in which there is a very vapidly sentimental image of the Madonna and Child dressed in some outfit. We learned that appearances can be deceiving, for when you meditate before Her, Her divine presence is very strong. We later found out that the image is about five hundred years old and the Virgin Mary has worked many miracles through it. So we hunted up some candles and offered them, amidst inquiring looks from the church staff and the lower-caste Indians that were visiting there.

The main sanctuary feels pretty much like nothing. Even with the divine presence that can be felt in a few places in the cathedral, there is a pall of the deadheadness of Christianity over the whole place. This shadow spills out into the neighborhood. We decided to walk down the block to see the ocean, and on the way saw the only Indian drunks (sterno bum types) we’ve seen yet, turned the corner to walk to the beach and encountered the foulest looking and foulest smelling squalor of an Indian slum (again, a first). On the way back as we again approached the Kapaleeshwara Temple things felt like India again, and we realized we had walked into, and fortunately out of, a strange pocket that is not India.

Tuesday morning we got a little badly needed extra sleep (i.e., the usual amount of sleep we get in Borrego), and then meditated in Ma’s samadhi shrine during the morning puja. The puja was followed by arati and bhajans performed by the young brahmacharis at the vidyapith, with Dasu providing the thunderous and spirited mridanga22 accompaniment.

Later that day we spent some time in the Haridwar bazaar, looking for gifts for some of our friends back in America and just enjoying the bazaar. As it was getting towards sunset, we decided to attend the Ganga arati at Harikipari. This turned out to be a very good decision.

When we got there, both sides of the Ganga were filled with people and filling up with even more people by the minute. We soon encountered some of the many priests that shepherd the pilgrims there, and put into practice some wisdom we’ve acquired since being in India: 1) don’t be cheap about your offerings; this is a unique opportunity, and anyway even huge amounts of offerings are cheap by U.S. standards (like the bushel basket of marigolds, rose petals, and other flowers that we offered to Ma Ganga in the name of our ashram, costing us the equivalent of about $2.00!), and 2) expect the priests to ask for money and be glad to give it: this is how they’re supporting themselves, and we’ve almost always found the great blessings we’ve gotten far exceed the value of mere money.

So we stationed ourselves with our offerings at the edge of the Ganga (actually, standing partly in the Ganga) and some priests led us through some mantras. Meanwhile on the opposite shore someone was leading the seated crowd through various chants, which ended by everyone raising their arms and making exclamations to the Ganga. As the time for the arati drew nearer, things got more crowded and more frantic–the good kind of Indian chaos–people jostling each other for a better position, others pushing forward to make their offerings, special pujas going on here and there.

The moment the sun dropped beneath the horizon the arati began with priests up and down the western shore waving pancha-dipas over the Ganga. When this light offering was completed they all took up their “Christmas trees”–huge flaming camphor dipas, so hot that each priest held his dipa with a large wet rag that was periodically doused with Ganga jal23 by an attendant so the dipa could still be held. This went on for quite a while, the air filled with arati music to Ma Ganga broadcast from loudspeakers. All this invoked great waves of enthusiasm and devotion which tangibly filled the air and we were all united in lifting our hearts to Mother Ganga. It was this all-encompassing feeling of the unity of all us worshipping together, joined as one but still many with Mother Ganga Who was so strongly present and blessing us all, that most impressed me that evening.

It was during this auspicious time that most of the people offered Ma Ganga their leaf boats of flowers and lights. Usually the Ganga at Harkipari moves rapidly, some currents moving visibly faster than others. One man near us pointed out how during the arati areas of the Ganga could be seen to become still and unmoving, as Ma Ganga stops to pay attention to the prayers and devotion of Her children. This is a well-known miracle that happens regularly, and we saw it for ourselves, as large flickering or flaming leaf boats of flowers just stopped still in the waters almost directly before the priests waving their maha-dipas.

It was a nice surprise to see so many “modernized” Indians there. It was easy to see that their devotion was deep and sincere. Let’s hope that the apparent Westernization of Indians is only skin keep and down deep in their bones they still remain true Hindus.

When the arati was finished we joined the mad press for the dipa and prasadam and then we visited the many small temples and shrines that are elbow to elbow throughout the ghat–loudly painted little temples with overdressed white marble images, some of them very beautiful, some of them obviously heartfelt attempts expressed through very unskilled hands. God knows what South Indians think when they make a pilgrimage here–in contrast to the stylized, refined and transcendental appearance of South Indian images, the murtis here are often very sentimental in their depiction, and sometimes almost childishly simple and garish in their rendering. Yet it is this very obviousness that gives them their appeal–you know, like the bright red-orange Hanumans and the bug-eyed Devis–and there is a lot to be said for the devotion that is the source of these murtis.

We met an old sadhu of the North Indian variety named Vishnu Chaitanya–a grizzled, bespectacled, thin old man wrapped in all sorts of cloths, scarves, and dhotis of gerua of various shades, with women’s silver ankle bracelets over his brown-socked feet–who gave each of us a special rudraksha bead from Kashi Vishvanath (maybe he got them in Varanasi; all this was through hand gestures and broken phrases, so we are guessing that was what he said) and was eager for us to send him a copy of the picture that we took of him and us.

That God specially manifests as a river and that river has the quality of the Mother, is something that could only happen in India, and could only be perceived and understood in India. How do you explain to anyone, even a believer, that God has taken form as a river that radiates consciousness and blessing? It can only be experienced. In some indefinable way, the same Mother Who revealed Herself to us in the Siddeshwari Kali at Antpur, Kali Ma at Dakshineswar, and Holy Mother in Her many shrines, manifests Herself in a very tangible way in the moving waters of the Ganga at Harikipari. The Ganga is the Mother, is consciousness and shakti made visible to Her Hindu children, the only ones who are ready to comprehend this unique revelation. Jai Gange Mata!

Later in Kankhal we experienced a variation to this: their busiest and most vocal time is when everyone else is asleep; in fact, it is obvious that they take great pleasure in shouting their absolute loudest in the wee hours. So off and on from midnight till dawn there is a thin but pretty constant stream of very vocal devotees passing by in the street beneath our guesthouse room. Although this occasionally wakes us up, this holy noise is just fine and sometimes makes for some very unusual dreams where as you awake from a dream of someone talking or shouting it morphs into the present reality of the pilgrims’ voices beneath the window. We’ve become accustomed to the omnipresent noise of India, which so often is just a reminder that everyone here is busily and loudly occupied with Sanatana Dharma in one form or another. However, while we were trying to meditate early this morning in Mother’s shrine, the ole shabda25 highway had a little bit of a traffic jam, beginning with the ashram across the street blaring some pre-recorded syrupy chants over their very loud loudspeaker, the ashram pujari adding his amplified morning chants, the yatris continuing to yuck it up on the streets, and the growing morning din of motor rickshaws and cars.

The short look we got of Sivananda Ashram was great–they have a real spirit and enthusiasm (there’s a lot to be said for communal ashram life), and of course the samadhi shrine is amazing.

March 4, 2003

Our Friday plans took a little different turn when we met Gitanjali, an Indian woman in her early sixties who was visiting the Kankhal ashram for Shivaratri, which happens to be her birthday, and who was interested in meeting Jnanananda and so invited us to go in her car. She met Ma in the mid-1950’s, and spent much time away from India, in Europe and South America, visiting Ma over the years. Gitanjali wanted to visit Ma’s Raipur ashram, so we let her revise our itinerary and let our trip take its own course. She was very interesting to be with and very useful as a translator several times in the day.

When we first arrived at Ma’s Raipur ashram, we encountered Swami Bhumananda, the sole resident of the ashram, sitting outside on a wicker mat on the ground, reading. He is a rail-thin, large-eyed old swami whose ashram in East Bengal was destroyed by the Moslems in the 1970’s, after which Ma took him under Her wing. Bhumananda seems to be the right name for Swamiji; his calm, bottomless eyes and steady gaze were windows on a level of spiritual consciousness that appears to be his perpetual state. Swamiji first took us to the Shiva temple and told us that this Shiva (the original lingam) called Ma all the way from Bengal up to Raipur when She first left Bengal in the 1920’s. At that time this temple was surrounded by jungle and little more. He invited us into the inner shrine to pranam to the Lord. Then he took us to Ma’s room in the main building, where we sat and meditated. Ma’s presence was very strong there, and it was certainly a good place to be.

Our next stop was the Kishenpur Ashram, where Ma left Her body. Mother’s samadhi room is closed off by a glass wall, but you can sit there to meditate. Again, Her presence was strong, stronger than in Raipur. Spiritual perception can be a very subjective affair, but I would describe Mother’s presence throughout this trip with the words from Bhaiji’s hymn: “Pranava rupini.”26 To me, at least, Her presence feels like Om (as compared to Bhagavan’s presence, which is more of sakshi27 nature).

On the way to Swami Jnanananda’s ashram we stopped at the Bengal Sweets Shop to buy something to bring as an offering. The shopkeeper used the Mary See’s approach of taste-test and then buy, which was OK to us and worked out well for him, since we bought two fairly large boxes. There is no doubt that Bengali sweets are the best.

Swami Jnanananda’s ashram is on a pretty good-sized residential lot surrounded by a red brick wall, in a rather busy section of Dehradun. The two-story house was designed by Maitreyi, his Pakistani disciple who lives there with her mother and Swamiji, and is unlike any other building we’ve seen in India. It is completely round, well-designed and well-constructed in every detail, and definitely artsy. You can easily imagine this house in Europe and California.

We were first greeted by the resident pest and terror, Dharma the dog, and when Swamiji appeared we got a crash course in the most effective way to endure Dharmaji: ignore him, don’t make any sudden movements with your hands, and if he gets excited and comes at you just sit firmly and unmoving. The permanent benefits of a firm move towards Dharma with a sudden movement of my hand or foot quickly came to mind. But I reminded myself that the host is God and banished the thought.

Probably the first thing that strikes you about Swamiji is his amazing vitality, not just for his age but by anyone’s standards. He is very animated and physically agile, and he has a quick and clear mind. When we asked him for his advice to us young sannyasis he told us that the only duty of a sannyasi is to remember Om with each breath, adding that when Trailanga Swami was asked for his definition of a true yogi he replied “He who controls the breath.” Swamiji’s interpretation of this was he who watches every breath.

As sunset approached some of Swamiji’s Indian devotees arrived for the evening kirtan, led by Swamiji. Swamiji is a one-band man, playing the kirtan melodies on the harmonium and doubling as a percussionist by beating out the rhythmic accompaniment with his other hand as he pumps the harmonium. The style of kirtan was one we hadn’t heard before, very spirited but a little strange.

When we discovered that Swamiji believes meditation is a private practice and that Shivaratri at this ashram consists mostly of kirtan all night long (as Haridas had warned us), we politely declined his invitation to attend. He agreed that since we were staying at Sivananda Ashram it was more appropriate that we celebrate Shivaratri there. Forty-five minutes of this kirtan was plenty and a nightful of it unthinkable. Our Shivaratri experiences at Sivananda Ashram later bore testimony to the wisdom of our sthan28 of choice for that holy night.

The next day we prepared for the coming Shivaratri vigil by getting some extra rest and taking care of miscellaneous errands. Whenever we happened to go through the grounds of Sivananda Ashram, we could hear akhanda kirtan of Om Namah Shivaya being sung and played in the Viswanath Temple for twenty-four hours before Shivaratri.

As we gain more experience of India during this trip, we begin to see more clearly that with rare exception the sadhus here fall into two groups, each with its own distinct characteristics that are common to many if not all of the sadhus within the group (as much as you can generalize about people). These are: the sadhus in ashrams and those on their own. (The only other category I could think of would be sadhus in a small ashram with their guru, and except for Garib Das and his disciple–more on them later–I can’t think of any of these that we’ve encountered.) The ashram monks–Ramakrishna Mission and Sivananda Ashram–seem to generally be in better shape spiritually and psychologically, and probably physically too. They are easily recognizable by their camaraderie, enthusiasm and vitality. The sadhus who are on their own seem a little more wary and seasoned. I would guess that because of their struggles in life they have had to develop strength in themselves and also learn to rely on God in a way that an ashramite may not find himself called to do. The three Western sannyasis in Tiru are good examples of this. It seems to me that as a group the sadhus who live or wander alone do not fare as well as the ashram sadhus, but the best of the former group is better than the best of the latter group. We met many good monks in the ashrams, but we met a few very holy monks who make their way alone.

We have met many wonderful sannyasis at Sivananda Ashram, very young and very old. They seem happy to be with and cooperate with each other, and at least on the level of our short visit here we didn’t encounter anyone who struck us as institutionalized or “work-bound.” I will tell you about a few.

Swami Devabhaktananda is a very affectionate and funny young swami in charge of the printery. During our tour there we saw young, middle-aged, and very old swamis sitting around on the floor folding some book signatures by hand (not their usual procedure, but a necessary step for salvaging some odd signatures). As has happened frequently during our stay here, some of the swamis even stood up to pranam when we entered the room–something that has never happened elsewhere. It is much to the credit of Sivananda Ashram that so much of the spirit of Swami Sivananda is still alive here forty years after his mahasamadhi.

One day while searching for a particular swami we met his neighbor, Swami Vishnupremananda, a swami in his late sixties who has a huge lump right at his third eye. Swamiji shared with us his early experiences with Sivananda. Around 1962 he read The Practice of Brahmacharya and became fascinated with and drawn to Sivananda just through this short simple book. He wrote to Sivananda to find out about acquiring more of his books, and later Sivananda appeared to him twice in his dreams, one time giving him mantra initiation.

We first saw Swami Brahmaswarupananda when he sang some special bhajans in the Samadhi Shrine hall after the evening lecture. Swamiji sings in the karnatic style. He is absolutely a master of this and it was fascinating to hear and see him sing. Things got even better when we talked to him afterwards. He has a set of teeth that could only exist in India, and he is in his own wonderful way quite mad–and I say this with all love and affection for both him and his madness!

Swami Jivanmuktananda, the General Secretary of the ashram, is a very, very strong and quiet person who appears to shoulder his responsibilities very competently, but whose face shows the burden of those responsibilities. Haridas told us that once he said: “Gurudev has given me a golden cage,” meaning that he sees his position as both a confinement and a blessing–to my mind, not an enviable position. He gave a very good talk after Swami Brahmaswarupananda’s bhajans, explaining the need for chitta shuddhi; that is, even though we are not the mind and not the body, we still need to purify and discipline them, as they are the “environment” of our sadhana and by their purified state can help make us ready for the reception of jnana.

Our first day here was comfortably warm during the way, and from that night on every day it has been COLD. On the early morning of Shivaratri day (Saturday) a storm moved in, and there was rain, winds, and loud thunder that rolled and rolled and rolled across the foothills; I’ve never heard thunder last so long. Once the sun set we went to the Samadhi Shrine, where we spent the first three hours of Shivaratri with Swami Sivananda–literally. Some days before we got permission to meditate in the inner shrine, so the three of us seated ourselves at the corners of the samadhi, our knees virtually touching it. Our intention had been to spend the entire night meditating there–a “noble idea” that now appears very stupid.

Throughout the three hours of meditation a variety of kirtans, almost all in the crashing, heavy-handed style that is unfortunately the common style here, blasted from the speakers of the Viswanath Mandir immediately next to us. At one point as I stretched my legs in the hall outside the shrine I told myself that my time would be better spent meditating in the quiet of my room (uh-huh!) and decided to go there. Fortunately at the same moment a young boy passed by on the balcony above me, looked down at me, and smiled and laughed. This had its own message for me, and I decided to discover more of what Shivaratri at Sivananda Ashram had to offer, and so went out and around to the Viswanath Mandir.

There I found Tarakananda (who had been in search of a toilet–or TOILET, as we shout in India) standing in the rain talking to a giant swami named Muktananda, probably seven inches taller than me and built like a mountain. He is an unusual-looking young Indian, and that is because he is not an Indian; he is Haitian and Canadian, with a thick French accent. We had already heard some words of praise for him from a French woman at Ma’s Kankhal ashram. As I joined the conversation they were talking about Ma, for whom Muktananda professes a great devotion. Sadasivananda later came out and joined our group and we all sought refuge from the rain in Swamiji’s nearby room.

Later we managed to diplomatically extricate ourselves and made our way through freezing rain into the Viswanath Mandir. The mandir was full to capacity with one of the most mixed groups of devotees we’ve been with so far–sannyasi and householders, Indians and Westerners, of all shapes, sizes and varieties. Fortunately the rotation of kirtan groups had taken a turn for the better. In the course of the night we heard some very good bhajans.

Swami Jivanmuktananda and some guest mahatmas were conducting the puja in the inner shrine, and with each watch there were new and sometimes wonderful variations to the adornments of the shrine and the choice of offerings. The metal cover placed over the linga at the end of one set of offerings had a big-eyed smiling face embossed in colorful bas-relief. At the beginning of another watch the linga was surrounded by a fabrication of the snow-covered Himalayas, all made of cotton. At the end of the third watch the Lord was completely covered by a huge mound of vibhuti offerings, and those who wished (including us) were allowed to enter the inner shrine and add our own vibhuti offering to this mound. After the last watch the shrine and altar were filled with flower and bel-leaf decorations, and the linga peeked up through a mountain of bel leaves.

Each watch ended with a long arati, in the inimitable Sivananda Ashram style. The dominant feature of this is a set of automated tom-tom drums which loudly and relentlessly pound out a primitive beat: “BOM BOM, bum bum bum! BOM BOM, bum bum bum!” Kind of like: “Bring in the zombie slaves of Xanadu!” And no singing and lots of gongs and bells. Anyway, a good time was had by all, and thank God each time it eventually came to an end.

Just before the fourth watch Swami Chidananda made a surprise appearance. He is very thin, very old, and is apparently very ill. Despite all this, he handled himself quite well, doing full pranam before the shrine, making some offerings in the inner shrine, leading some kirtan, and giving some brief remarks.

After the final arati a little after 4:00 a.m. everyone went to the dining hall for prasad, and we got to bed around 5:00.

Now that Shivaratri is several days behind us, I find it surprising that neither during nor after the celebration did I experience any great or lasting blessing. Our equinox and solstice observances have a far, far more profound affect and to me that is the real Shivaratri.

The next day we took Haridas to lunch at the Green Italian Cafe, where there was excellent Italian food and no green Italians. Then he took us to visit some local mahatmas.

Our next stop was the nearby kutir of Garib Das, a saint whom Mangalananda referred to in one of his emails. At the saint’s recommendation, we returned with a translator and had a lengthy consultation with him.

Garib Das lives with one disciple in a very small kutir on a hillock just above the Ganga, almost directly opposite Swami Bodhichitananda’s kutir. I would guess that he is in his early sixties. He has short grey-white hair and beard like Bhagavan, dresses very neatly and simply in a white kurta and dhoti, and is very unpretentious in all his ways. He probably attracts little attention when he walks down the street. His name means “servant of the poor.” He is very quiet and inward, has indescribable eyes, and is very strong in a firm kind of way–not mahashakti like some yogis, and not warm and soft at the edges like some of these more ancient swami saints we’ve met.

Our translator was very good–a young Indian man studying at the Forest Academy, whose father is a sannyasi at Sivananda Ashram.

Again and again he emphasized that whether we live in America or in India, all our lives should be wholly devoted to the search for God, that none of us know how long we may have so we should proceed as if we have little time and put everything into the search for Him.

Generally he looks down to the ground, off to the side, occasionally glancing into our faces or our hearts. At one point (I don’t remember when) he interrupted his words to look very directly into the eyes of each of us, just a few moments, one at a time. The only time I have experienced a penetrating look like this was when Mother looked at each one of us when we first came to Vrindaban in 1973. In many ways this was quite similar. Again, his message and exhortation was: Put all into the quest for God, wherever you are.

We asked him to tell us something about his guru, and he declined to, saying this was an intellectual question born of curiosity and busyness of the mind rather than the thirst for God. He also declined to have his photo taken because, he said, he had not come up to the measure of his guru. When we told him we would keep a picture of him in our hearts, he said we should take that picture out of our hearts and put God’s in its place. When you go to a doctor, he told us, you need to take the medicine, not get his picture. We then told him he was like a great mountain that cannot be gotten around or over, and he and his disciple liked this very much, laughing heartily.

Twice during our conversation he told us that with completely dedicated efforts we could realize God in a very short time–six months to a year, or one to two years. At the end of our meeting he told us our questions pleased him very much, because they showed we are near the goal. When we asked him for some final general advice, he stressed the vital importance of two things: firm belief and complete reliance on God. If you have these, he said, you will succeed.

Some of this looks pretty inconclusive and clichéd when put into writing, but at the time it all seemed very significant hearing it directly from him.

March 5, 2003

Today we visited Kailash Ashram, shepherded by Swami Saswathananda, a young Orissan swami who used to work for Microsoft in Brooklyn! Swamiji is only staying at the ashram and not a regular member, so he was very friendly to us–as opposed to the officials and regulars, who make no bones about their distaste for and disinterest in anything that looks Western, even such great souls as us. It was a little reminiscent of being at a bigoted Christian church in that respect, and the atmosphere was not dissimilar.

Then we moved on to visit Swami Atmananda, with Swami Saswathananda coming along. Atmananda was not in, and there was no way to contact him beforehand. But if we had not made this trip, we would have missed a special blessing.

The very moment we were leaving the dhobi29 after picking up some laundry on the way to Atmananda’s, we saw Garibdas walking towards us down the busy street, carrying a bag of vegetables. We made our pranams and introduced him to Swamiji, who acted as an interpreter. We told him we had relayed our conversation with him to Swami Nirmalananda. His one smiling, brief comment can be translated as “When you have a dish of food before you, don’t analyze it–eat it!” Hari Om, that’s that! It was wonderful to see him again, and there is no way our meeting him was by chance.

March 8, 2003

It is morning in Chennai and our last day in India.

Thursday night we had a very good satsang with Swami Bhaskaranandaji at the Delhi ashram–just us, Wishwarupa’s parents, and Swamiji, with a few people occasionally coming in and out. Swamiji felt inspired and we talked about 1 1/2 hours. We also briefly met Panuda and a few other devotees, and of course spent a lot of time with Gopaldas (Raju). On Friday morning we were given permission to meditate early in Ma’s room there. Like the other rooms of Hers we’ve been in, Her presence was very strong and it was very, very good to be there. Later on Friday we visited Birla Mandir and Kali Bari.

Last night we greeted Swami Gautamanandaji, who seemed pleased to see us, as did the other monks here.

Today we hope to take it easy and be well rested before getting stuffed into an airborne sardine can for twenty-some hours. We are looking forward to being with you soon. Seems like we’ve been gone about a year!

More India Pilgrimage Letters:

• Monks' Letters Set #1 – Bengal (Belur Math, Dakshineshwar, Jayrambati, and Kamarpukur, etc.); Tamil Nadu (Tiruvannamalai, Arunachala, and Ramanashram)
• Monks' Letters Set #2 – Tamil Nadu (Tiruvannamalai, Arunachala, and Ramanashram; Sri Rangam, Chidambaram, Tanjavur, Chennai), and the foothills of the Himalayas (Hardwar, Kankhal, Rishikesh, Dehradhun, Vashishta Guha).

2) Those advanced souls–Sanaka, Sanandana, Sanatkumara and Sanatsujata–who at the beginning of this creation cycle refused to engage in worldly life despite the command of Brahma. They were then taught by Lord Shiva, in the form of Dakshinamurti, into the mysteries of Brahmajnana. [Go back]

3) Correct [Go back]

4) A devotee of Shiva. [Go back]

5) Scripture; particularly scriptures dealing with the four topics of temple construction and the making of images, philosophy, meditation practice, and methods of worship. [Go back]

6) Devotees of Vishnu. [Go back]

7) A wick lamp fed by oil or ghee; a flame in a lamp. [Go back]

8) The form of Vishnu reclining upon Shesha, the infinite (endless) snake (naga). [Go back]

9) Shalagramas are flat-round or disk-like stones with rounded edges, found only in the Mandakini River in the region of Tibet, and are considered to be manifestations of Vishnu and His avataras. [Go back]

10) A gopuram is a towerlike structure over an entrance (gateway) to a temple or temple compound, shaped like a wedge standing on its wide end, consisting of many tiers that are highly decorated (sculpted), often with images of deities and figures from Hindu cosmology. [Go back]

11) A worshipper of Vishnu according to the philosophical school of Sri Ramanuja known as Vashistadvaita Vedanta (Qualified Non-Dualism). [Go back]

12) Lila: Divine play. The life of an avatar is often spoken of as lila. [Go back]

13) The water offered in ritual worship and then sprinkled on or drunk by the devotees. [Go back]

14) Vaikuntha: The celestial abode (loka) of Vishnu and His devotees. [Go back]

15) Ekadashi: “The eleventh.” The eleventh day of each half of the lunar month (that is, the eleventh day after the new and full moons) that is devoted to the worship of Vishnu and his avataras. [Go back]

16) Anahata: “Unstruck;” “unbeaten.” Continuous bell-like inner resonance; the heart; the heart chakra; the inner divine melody (mystic sounds heard by the Yogis); Om. [Go back]

17) Sthala: Abode; place; hall. [Go back]

18) Tandava: Dance of Destruction (Dissolution of the Cosmos) of Lord Shiva. [Go back]

19) Bathing–the ritual pouring of various items over a sacred image or personage in homage and worship. [Go back]

20) Clear quartz crystal. [Go back]

21) Adi (the first) Shankaracharya: The great reformer and re-establisher of Vedic Religion in India around 300 B.C. He is the unparalleled exponent of Advaita (Non-Dual) Vedanta. He also reformed the mode of monastic life and founded (or regenerated) the ancient Swami Order. [Go back]

22) A drum used exclusively in devotional music, also known as a khol. [Go back]

23) Water [Go back]

24) Pilgrims [Go back]

25) Sound [Go back]

26) “The Form of Pranava [Om].” [Go back]

27) The witness self; the kutastha which passively observes the actions of the body and the senses. [Go back]

28) Place where one stays; abode. [Go back]

29) Laundry man [Go back]