Menoculayshunal; Musicalism, Ashram Style 3

In November 2012, for Deepavali, all students and teachers transferred to the Kolwan ashram - Chinmaya Vibhooti. It is nestled restfully in the valley beneath the Sahyadri Hills. We were continuing serious study but were afforded extra personal time for meditation, socialising and community activity. It came at precisely the right time, for there was something of relentlessness to the life that needed some break in the rhythm to restore and sharpen us.

The country air, frosty mornings (oh yes, it gets cold!!!), wildlife, and altered routine were uplifting beyond words. Lots of rambles, gathering with our pals for informal study sessions, serious discussions and musical interludes gave us a renewed sense of purpose.

I had flashbacks. The only other place where I had experienced such spiritual rise and strong interconnectedness with everything such as Vibhooti was providing was on the isle of Iona, 35 years earlier. It won't make sense to anyone else, but I knew I could draw an ethereal thread from that small Hebridean isle to this Maharashtran hill station and that I was precisely where I ought to be.

The late Kameshwari-amma at morning prayer

Flanked by my two little brothers, Sandeep and Sampat.

Strategy planning...

...for the cricket match!

There were lots of bhajan sessions, because we were, after all, such a musical group... there were several talented tabla players among the boys and a few who managed the harmonium. There were finger cymbals and shakers to be used by those of us who had any sense of rhythm and to add to the general cacophony. 

Sometimes, over the fields drifting on the cool breeze, we could hear the music transmitted from Kolwan village over their loudspeakers. It was Deepavali, after all! When there was no human intervention, there could be heard the sound of the cattle bells, the hum of the insects and sunbirds, the twittering and chattering of birds and the rustling of the grasses and the leaves. The music of nature must never be underestimated.

Then there were the lunchtime chanting sessions. As long as it was bright and the breeze not too stiff, this would take place on the grass of the oval. Chanting in the mandir or the kakshya (classroom) held its own ambience... but adding our sounds to those of nature, having our voices taken by the breeze and drifted truly to the hills, was another experience level altogether.

To end this post, I am going to attempt placing a clip of the chanting here... let's see how this goes... nope that didn't work out, if you are interested, do please click this link.