Ashnram Life

 

Friday, October 8^th

I did not sleep well last night partly because I found the bed to be incredibly uncomfortable. It is a simple wooden box frame with a shallow recess, that houses a 2 inch deep mattress. The pillow is long and narrow cushion, and frankly felt like a stone under my head. The room as I have discovered is more like a monastic cell and offers little comfort for the spoiled and pampered. There is no desk or chair in the room and so I have transformed the second bed into my apothecary(as it is stacked with my supplements and anti- dysentery medicines; my pantry for fruit and snacks; my desk as the only electrical socket in the room is mounted on the wall above the bed.

The bathroom has an open shower with the drain imbedded in the marble floor, however there is no hot water on tap. I am told that I can brave the clod water or opt for an “Indian Bath”. For this I have to fill a 5 gallon bucket full of water and then immerse a heating rod into the bucket that hooks onto the rim. Then simply wait ten minutes for the water to heat up. These rods are as I discovered super efficient. On my first venture, I thought I would leave the rod in a little longer, to insure that the water was well and truly hot, and I damn near scalded my hand.

Life here is already throwing up challenges, but I am adaptable. And an afternoon of venting with Musette who is from Denmark, was sufficient for me to get over my need to have certain creature comforts. The day begins at 5:30am with the morning meditation. One of the temple disciples sounds the horn; made of a large conch shell, three times to call everyone to prayer. Blurry eyed and craving sleep, we all file in to the meditation hall.  Most of the residents are Westerners, but there are several visitors native to Delhi, who have come to be initiated into the meditation practice. In all we are a group about thirty.

The meditation opens with prayers and it is some two hors later before we emerge, to make our way to the dining hall for breakfast. We then have two hours of free time before commencing another two hour session of meditation. I headed for my room and blessedly was able to sleep. I am hoping that this insomnia does not become a pattern whilst I am here. 

The second meditation session is long and arduous. Seated crossed legged on the floor; it is no time before my back is screaming and my knees are aching with pain. My mind is focused on my discomfort and I cannot concentrate on channeling the breath along the spine. This is the moment when I begin to wonder what I am doing here. I feel unprepared for the long hours of sitting in meditation that lie ahead.

Lunch is a welcome relief and after shoveling down the rather tasteless fare, Musett and I make our way into Laxman Julha to explore the shops and the many temples. The streets were crowded with people, and we had to walk on the very edge of the road, as there are no pavements to defend against the rickshaws, motor bikes trucks and cars that speed by. The streets are familiar, as I remember many of the shops and even the taxi stand from my previous stay here. We meander in and out of shops pricing items that we want to purchase, savvy enough to know that you never buy the first thing you see.

We crossed the suspension bridge that took us to the opposite bank of the river Ganges. The bridge is narrow and is restricted to pedestrians. However, this does not stop motorcyclist from using the bridge as a short cut. Forcing those of us on foot to press our bodies onto the supporting rail to make way for them, as they attempt to speed along a path that is too narrow for all of us. But, is the cows that win the day. Held as sacred, the cows roam the streets at will. And so it was not surprising when on our return journey, Musett and I found our path blocked by a cow who had decided to sit in the middle of the bridge. She sat with her legs folded beneath her; her dark brown skin glistening under the sun. Regal is not a word that I generally associate with cows, but as she cast a look at us mere mortals, with a lazy glance over her shoulder she was the embodiment of grace. We quickly sidled past her and I decided that living life as a “Fat Cow” wasn't so bad after all. 

The two of us, Musette short and white, me tall and black, made for a rather odd pair and so we attracted a lot of attention. However, we both noticed that eyes tended to linger on me, as people with my hue, are less commonly seen here; but there was not hostility behind their curious glances.   And most smiled shyly when our eyes met. We returned to the Ashram just in time for the daily Hatha Yoga practice, which would lead straight into the evening meditation.  

There is a rhythm to life at the ashram and for me it is punctuated by meal times. As we entered the third and final meditation of the day, all I could think about was the meal to follow, albeit that it would be the same bland fare of yesterday. So much for my search for meaning. For now I am content settle for a plate of Dhal and rice.