Lost in Translation

Tuesday, October 27th

Chidananda seems distracted today and his greeting is luke warm. As is customary, he served chai tea and biscuits. Almost immediately he launched into a tirade about Westerners and why they cannot be trusted. As the story unfolded I came to see very clearly how things get lost in translation. He had recently befriended a young woman from Europe who in the course of their conversation disclosed that she was hoping to find a place to have free meals. Good naturedly, he took her along to an ashram serving daily meals to the poor and the sanyasin (monks) where she could have two free meals a day.

Over the next several days he encountered the young woman, when he went for his own daily meals at the ashram. Noting her regular appearance, Chidananda, determined that he had provided her with an invaluable service and that the she in return should make a small offering of gratitude. On meeting her again, he boldly approached her and suggested that she return the favor he had extended to her, by purchasing him a small radio, costing 250.00 Rupee ($5.00). She had clearly saved greater than this sum with the free meals she now enjoyed. She refused to entertain his request. Not satisfied, he demanded to know where she was staying. She in turn became suspicious and fearful; accusing him of wanting to and rob or attack her. In his mind the question pointed to the fact that she must live somewhere, and so had the means to buy him this small gift. “She is a beggar, he complained, eating food that is prepared for the poor. If not for me she would not know where to eat for free!”

What has began as a congenial encounter, was now shrouded in fear, suspicion and resentment. For Chidananda it was a matter of honoring the principal of give and take. A system finely woven into the cultural tradition, and universally understood in his community. And for the young woman, having no understanding of this, he would have seemed fraudulent. A deceiver, dressed in the orange robes of a holy man. I saw that the gap between language and culture could so easily lead to profound misunderstanding. The fragile threads of communication had been severed and neither could find their way beyond the frayed edges, toward understanding.

The tale was both ironic and tragic, and in the telling Chidananda revealed the very human side of his personality. I learned it is wise not to see these men who walk the path of the renounciate, as existing outside of the human drama. It is from the couldron of this very human drama that each of us must emerge. Without the stain of our passions and of our desires, we cannot know self mastery.  In his book “The Way of Illumination” Hazrat Inayat Khan says, and I paraphrase, “ a gem is just a stone, and not until it has passed through the stone cutters wheel, does it reveal its radiance. “

We decided to take Chidananda out for lunch at a near by restaurant, and with some reluctance he consented to accompany us. Lunch proved a good tonic to lift him out of the doldrums, and we parted with the promise to stop by in the next few days. Prema and I then set off ton foot to visit a well known ashram about 4 kilometers away. It was a long walk along a narrow mountaneous road and we had to stop numerous times to give way to passing vehicles. We eventually arrived at the ashram which sat just yards from the beach, on an isolated plot of land. On entering the grounds, I saw that the gardens that it was famous for, were poorly maintained and over grown. And the buildings were dilapidated., and in desperate need of repair. All thoughts of spending any time here quickly evaporated, and I was happy to remain where I am, until it is time to leave Rishikesh. 

After dinner I fancied some time away from the ashram, and snuck off to Mama Mia's where I had a large mug of black coffee, with toast and jam. It was the perfect indulgence. The proprietor was watching television, and I decided to join him.  The show was "Big Boss" which is the Indian version of Big Brother. The proprietor and his assistant were riveted to the screen, and informed me that they don't miss a show.  Each week someone is appointed head of the house and at the end of three months who ever is the winner gets five million rupees.  The show is a carbon copy of the original, and many of the house guests that appear on the show are television stars, and celebrities.  Caught up in the drama of who would be cast out of the house this week, I missed the 10:00pm curfew and had to pound on the front gate to be let in.