Routine

Departre

Monday, October 11^th

This morning I learned that Baba had left for another state earlier in the day. He had to attend the funeral for one of the principals at the ashram school. Disappointment hung in the air, as we all realized it was unlikely that he would return. With his departure, something in the atmosphere had diminished. His presence is larger than life, and when he enters a room it is as if he tears a hole through the veil of the etheric, creating a portal to the unknown. And we who are aspirants on the path of self realization, move towards the flame of his aura like moths to a candle.

We fly so close that we risk searing our wings, if only to gain a deeper understanding of ourselves. And so it is, that I am experiencing an even deeper sense of loss, as I do not know how I will traverse the gnawing emptiness that fills me without the illumination of his incredible wisdom. David, who is a resident here, informed me that he waited here in Rishikesh for two months so that he might meet Swami Shankarananda (Baba). Such is the magnetism of this man.

The Guru undergoes years of discipline, self sacrifice and austerity, in order to gain mastery over the self. And to come to know himself as one with God. He is able to move between the veil of the manifest and the un-manifest and is imbued with a profound wisdom. This the result of an un-individuated relationship with God. His is a world filled with deep mysticism, the substance of which I can only seek to grasp with my intellect. And so in homage to my teacher I write this poem.

Ten Thousand Hours Times Ten

Ten thousand hours times ten

have you committed to chanting a litany of prayers

Till you fell down exalted

Ten thousand hours times ten

have you known the ravages of hunger

Ten thousand hours times ten

have you known the torment of suffering

Ten thousand hours times ten

Have you battled with the demons of the mind

Ten thousand hours times ten

have you extolled the name of god

Ten thousand hours times ten

Have you sat in meditation

to distill the essence of your being

Ten thousand hours times ten

That you might pass through the eye of the needle

I spent the evening in the company of Chandra and Sunil. After dinner we sat outside in the cool night air talking about life in India. Chandra informed me that yoga is offered free in the parks of Delhi and that the concept of paying for yoga is a relatively new one; largely arising from the growing tourist industry. Years ago you would have seen scores of people in the park practicing yoga, but now few if any even bother to show up for the government sponsored classes. People are losing interest and moving away from the practice, even as we from the West flock to it. She fears that the growing commercialism will irrevocably alter life in India, as more and more people abandon the traditions.

Chandra is definitely the talker of the two, and Sunil usually sits quietly on the sideline, happy just to listen. She shared an old Indian proverb that says, if you give one paisa (thousandth) of a rupee, then you will get it back ten thousand fold. And so people are happy to give alms to the nomadic Sadhu as they believe that they will be rewarded.

I am learning so much more about India through my conversations with Chandra and Sunil, and we are developing a friendship. I have promised to look them up when I travel to Delhi en route home, at the end of my trip. They are both very interested in knowing my story and we spend the remainder of the night speaking of my life in America.

I am feeling more rooted here now and sleep comes more readily. But, just to test my resilience, the gods have divined a nine day festival in honor of the Lord Ram. Festivities begin at 11:00pm each night and go on well into the night. I am serenaded by the rhythmic beat of the drums as voices are raised in chant. And I simply allow it to wash over me, as I fall into a peaceful slumber.