Menoculayshunal; Ropes, And How to Know Them

All travel in places not one's own requires of us firstly that we are willing to absorb the sights, sounds and smells, secondly that we are prepared to tune our ear to the local voice and thirdly, that we do not seek privilege. Only then can we begin to truly appreciate the culture in which we are the guest. Learning at least enough of the language of where you are travelling to be able to meet, greet and offer gratitude is little to ask. The respect paid is usually honoured in return. 

Most travel, however, is for a short duration and no matter how we may try, we cannot really immerse ourselves. Going to a country with the intention of spending at least a couple of years makes this attitude imperative, that we make the adjustments and adaptations within ourselves to gain the most from that visit.

August 20th 2011 came round. Having already lived and worked in countries and cultures foreign to my upbringing, the shift to India was, perhaps, not so huge a leap. Also, one goes there knowing that life is going to be vastly different. The cultural differences between countries that may outwardly appear similar such as that between the UK and OZ can cause rather more difficulties, in some regards. 

Moving to a place where life was to be run according to strict rules adds to the adjustment requirement. Packing was kept to a  minimum as we were to be provided with the white cloths with which to dress throughout that time. Any non-white dress was to be kept only within our rooms. Initially, nobody at all was permitted to leave the compound. However, as a good number of us were in mature years, it grew apparent over time that we did need a bit more than the basic food provided by the ashram. We were able to form parties to go fruit shopping and five of us grouped together for a refrigerator to keep curd and milk and salads.

The first six months went well. Having proven credentials in sari-tying, knowing which way up the Indian flag was to be placed, getting by with basic Hindi and showing promise in Sanskrit all helped. 

Things were a little strained when it became clear during those first few months that the 75 who began the course were not going to be around to see it out. Five of the young men who had arrived, departed within a month. Most had never left home before and were using it as a way of avoiding the marriage arrangements of their parents. The same was true of two of the young women. Of the remaining 68, another five were gone by the end of the year. Within six months of that, we were down to 60 - and that remained our number through to completion.

By December it was also becoming clear that yours truly was to have a love/hate relationship with the Sanskrit acharya, Br Samvid-ji (now Sw Sharadananda). He is a man so full of Love it is almost overwhelming. He is also a serious taskmaster! When it was starting to be obvious that I could not memorise at all well we had some interesting exchanges. 

Never rising to the standard of the younger students, somehow or other a level was attained and deemed satisfactory for passing the course. Swami-ji, though, has remained an enigma. A true polymath, an almost magical pujari and a true master of the language he could also be playful and almost childlike. Particularly with pups... so how could he not be Loved in return?!!

The young women's quarters are up the hill, close to the offices and mandir (temple). The lads quarters are at the bottom of the hill and the other side of Anakshetra (food hall) and Saraswati Nilayam (hall of learning), The building of room 102 is next door to Anakshetra and is where senior (or paying) students are housed. There is a newer multi-storey building right at the back wall of the compound where other senior students but also many staff are housed. 

The orange line marks the boundary of the ashram compound. The bit that says 'Chinmaya Pradeep is actually over the Vihar building of room 102. The mandir is at the top of the hill. Naturally. Anyway, that gives you some idea. Although in the middle of wider Mumbai suburbia, there was always an air of tranquillity and somehow the great smog of the place never seemed to penetrate. maybe because there are so many trees. Ashok trees, gum trees and mango trees. Many, many mango trees.

Within a week of arriving at the Sandeepany, the news came through of mother's demise. That rushed visit back to the UK had been worth all the effort. Goodbyes had been appropriate and the heart was at ease. The mother who had so many years prior permitted the study of the Bible understood and approved this next chapter.