POST 3, VRINDAVAN

ONE MUST LOOK WITH THE HEART AND NOT THE EYES

VRINDAVAN

At any rate here I am…In Vrindavan, or the Land of Radha-Krishna…. the land of Love.

My greeter at the gate of the ashram walks me up the path to the ashram and introduces me to Pernendu. Pernendu is a brother of the spiritual leader of whom the ashram is for.

Two chairs are pulled into the sunshine, which I am grateful for because I have been freezing since early morning and I really need to thaw out. A young boy soon appears with two glasses of cool water. I sit with Pernendu, who welcomes me and asks me some casual questions. He is kind and chats with me about my experience so far, and how I know of this ashram. He tells me there is a couple here from, of all places, Tucson. They have been here one month. This makes me happy and I am looking forward to meeting them. I have not really run into many English-speaking people.

It is really cold in my room. I wonder if the staff’s rooms are this cold also or if they are just use to it after years of no heating. It is not freezing by any means but my clothes are just too thin.

I went for a walk on the grounds after talking to Pernendu. Beyond the metal gates of the entrance there is a narrow dusty road…I will find out latter that the whole town is a dirty dust bowl. A real contradiction to the name, Land of Love. I can see why they say don’t look with your eyes! There is a long cement walk from the gate to the ashram. It is lined with bushes and trees along each side with a grassy area beyond that. Then closer to the ashram itself come groups of potted plants everywhere and then the actual ashram building itself.

I wish those horrible feelings of fear, dread, and missing my children were not so deep and would not hit so often. My whole being feels as if it is falling apart. I thought once I was here in Vrindavan I would feel different, but on coming back to my room as I lay across the bed to rest for the first time in 48 hours, that ugly monster would rush upon me in all its fury once again. The only comfort is to know that it is natural to feel like this way under the circumstances. My childhood feelings of extreme sadness of homesickness is so weird, who would have thought that those feelings were even still there.

I am figuring out my finances again because of the rickshaw problems. I must somehow get by on less for the next few days to make up for the loss. And then there is the problem of finding a place to stay for two weeks once I leave here in the next couple days. To find a place will require the use of transportation to go around and look for a place and I know what that means! Rickshaws!!! I have no idea where even to look and will have to depend on the drivers to inform me of places and to cart me around. How much money will that end up costing? How will I communicate? Anxiety is beginning to come again in anticipation of what is involved in finding a place to stay for the next two weeks.

Isn’t it too cold for mosquitoes to be around here? They are not bad but definitely enough of a nuisance.

I am told food will be served tonight at 7:30 and I am really looking forward to it. No food yet today. I eat only once a day but usually I have eaten already by now. At dinner I meet the couple from Tucson. I find it funny, like in Belize, that people will just move to a third world country lock, stock and barrel without really knowing anything about it. I would think you would first make a trip to the chosen place then decide what to do. Anyway this couple just up and moved, with trunks (!) nonetheless. They have many complaints and have not taken the customs of the people into account. The woman has found out she cannot wear shorts on the street, (duh) and now has tons of clothes she has brought with her she cannot wear but still they plan on carrying those trunks with them everywhere they go! She is also frightened of going onto the streets as she is afraid of the monkeys so she stays within safety of the ashram gates. It is plain to see these people are not going to last very long in India.

I also meet a nice young man named Alahandro from Mexico City. He is staying here doing computer work for the ashram. I enjoy talking with these new people. I wish I could speak with the leader of the ashram, but I am not sure how this is done. I am unsure of the custom and if it is appropriate, so I do not ask.

I go out and take a long walk in the opposite direction of town away from the ashram. I walk down a long winding dirt road with occasional people walking toward a lake for the festivities of the Khumba Mela which is being held in Haridwar and one of the main reasons I have chosen this time to come to India. Khumba Mela lasts for several months. All over people are participating and the sadhus are going to the river to submerge themselves. Some people stop and try talking with me, as they seem to be fascinated. They want me to go with them to the river but one woman begins hollering at the others and it seems from what I can understand that their father would be upset to have a westerner along with them for this event. I will never experience anything even remotely like this the rest of the time I am in India. I motion to the ladies and children who want me to go with them to go on and show that I must return to the place I am staying. They finally get the message and they depart. I watch them continue on their journey, looking back and waving at me.

Tomorrow I must find a place to stay.

This morning I wake up to find out that the Tucson couple are leaving and going back to the states! That wasn’t hard to predict but I was surprised to see it happen this soon. Alahandro and I see them off as they depart with all their trunks, in a taxi, which will take them to Delhi and then from there they will fly out to the states.

After the Tucson couple departs, Alahandro tells me he thinks he knows of a place where I may be able to stay, so we leave the ashram and walk out onto the dusty streets of Vrindavan. After awhile we arrive at his recommended place. But as it turns out it is actually not a hotel after all. We ask if they may know of a place that is cheap. The man suggests that we try across the street. We look across the street and see a building with a gated entrance. We cross the street and enter the gate. An orange robed man is seated in a chair and I approach him and ask about a room. “No,” comes his reply. No room in the inn. My heart sinks.

I am frozen in dismay. We talk a little bit and I ask him if he knows when a room may be available and if he knows of any other place I may go to find a room. During our conversation he tells me to wait a minute and proceeds in making a phone call and a conversation incurs of which I have no idea of what is going on. He hangs up and has another man in an orange robe take me somewhere. I understand it is to talk with someone. We arrive at a large room. I remove my shoes and enter to see a man in a robe seated upon a kunti. He has short white hair and beard. It is quite striking against his brown skin. His eyes twinkle and he has a charming smile. The man who led me here motions me toward this man. The man's name is Suduh Maharaj. He asks me questions and we chat awhile as I sit on the floor with crossed legs. People come in and ask him questions and once he answers them they bow and leave. There is another man in the room, an Italian, which is conversing with Saduh Maharaj. I have absolutely no idea why I am here and what is going on. After asking me where I am from and about my journey thus far, he listens with interest as I relay the story of my past twelve days in India. I cried as I expressed my homesickness for my children. I was embarrassed but he only looked at me with the kindness of eyes.

He tells me that all his rooms are full because of a large group from Europe which is staying here, but if I like I could look at a room which is in the back where the workers stay and that if I like it I may stay there. I am much relieved that I may actually have a place to stay.

I am taken to see the room and of course I will take it. This is the first place I will stay that has Indian toilets. There are a few million mosquitoes in the room. I was able to get rid of most of the mosquitoes however with the use of Mosquito coils of which I was very familiar with because of the years I lived in Belize, Central America. I also stuffed pieces of toilet paper in all the holes in the screen on the windows. That was a delicate operation, as with the slightest pressure the brittle screen would break leaving me with even a larger hole. I closed the wooden shutters and stuck toilet paper in all the seams. Later that night I would want to open the shutters but change my mind when I realize how many of the pesky tiny varmints are trapped between the screen and the shutters. The bed is a wooden platform with a cotton pad. The pad is full of thick hard lumps like big marbles all through it. I get a pillow to match my lumpy mattress. There is the usual bottom sheet on the bed pad but never a top sheet. This is the most common way you find beds here in India, bottom sheet but no top sheet. I sit on the bed taking in my new environment. The cotton pad is so uncomfortable that it hurts my butt and I cannot even imagine trying to sleep on it. And yes, it would prove to be a real challenge, trying to arrange my body around the lumps. It would be a useless endeavor however, as I would never be able to lie on it without dozens of hard ‘marbles’ bearing into my body. Add to that, that it was so cold that I slept in my clothes and socks. I emptied my bag and put the contents on top of myself. That was also useless as I was still freezing. Even with the cold the mosquitoes found their way under the covers. I would be getting no sleep for the four nights of which I stayed in that room. By dawn I was depressed, alone, and fighting the tears, not because of the room but of the homesickness for my children.

The walls are chipped with dark stains all over them. There is no hot water but I hear that I can get a bucket of hot water to clean myself. This is fine with me since I was no stranger to bucket baths in Belize.

After leaving my stuff in my room I return to Maharaj and I tell him I will take the room. I am happy to have his company. He asks me if everything is ok and I tell him yes. Which was the truth because the alternative would be back on the street. Much to my relief there is the feeling of finding a sanctuary here. Maharaj comforted me saying that I would not be alone here and not to worry (huge selling point on the room!) He gets up and places a circle of strung yellow flowers around my neck. Before leaving him he tells me I will be taken to get food. The cost of the room is 200 rupees and 3 meals a day 150 rupees.

I am given a metal plate and cup of which I will be served my food and drink in. We all keep our plate and cup in our room. After eating we all wash our own plate and cup and return them to our room. In the dinning hall there are long woven lengths of cloth stretched out in rows on the cement floor. This is what we sit on while eating with our dish on the floor in front of us. Servers come by and place food in our dishes. Everyone eats with their fingers, Indian style.

I am really glad to have my flashlight. In India the electricity goes off and on all day and night.

The first night there was a festival in town and one event was dancing girls. Alahandro and I went together. We were guided in under the big tent to our seats. But first we had to remove our shoes and the man who was seating us hid them under a sheet of blue plastic but we were seated on the other side of the tent from where our shoes were.

The girls twirled and twirled in colorful costumes to beautiful music. When it was over we went to get our shoes….but….no shoes under the sheet of blue plastic! That was a terrible felling, my nice Ecco shoes were gone. And of course so were Alahandro’s. We had to walk all the way back through the dirt streets in our socks to find a rickshaw to take us back to our rooms.

The next day we went out looking for an internet café. I kept my eyes open for shoes, as all I had now was thin cloth slippers I used in my room. I never found any shoes that day. We also would not find any place with internet, as they were all down. That was a drag, as we had to pay to get there and also to come back. So each time I wanted to use the internet I would have to pay for each way never knowing if the internet would even be available. The next day I would be lucky to find some plastic shoes. Most all shoes here are plastic and it is easy to see why. The streets are dirt and either very dusty are muddy with big pot holes everywhere. Plastic shoes are the easiest to clean and cheap since the wear and tare on them is extreme. The slush gets in your shoes and on your feet. Plastic shoes are also not so tempting to be stolen, as they look like all the rest.

It is very dusty here. The dirt gets in your eyes and under your fingernails.

The roads are wild and a complete circus act with traffic going every which way as fast as possible. There are no two-lane roads to separate the traffic into two directions. The roads are very bumpy because of all the holes in the dirt. Keep in mind that there are no traffic rules. It is just a free for all; going in any direction they want, driving on any side they want. No wonder it is impossible to drive without a horn! The traffic consists of the ‘tout touts’, all blowing their horns every second. They create a tremendous amount of noise. Then there are the man powered cycle rickshaws blowing their little horns, and motorbikes whipping in and out as fast as they can. It is not uncommon to see these vehicles all within a quarter inch of each other. It is always possible to touch someone in a vehicle next to you. There are carts and wagons being pulled by oxen. There are horses with their riders. And as if that was not enough there are the big buses and add to that a sprinkling of camels and elephants. And of course tons of people on foot. There are cows of course everywhere along the road. There are dogs trying to dodge the traffic, and monkeys bouncing around everywhere. What’s amazing is that I have never seen an accident…. I feel sorry for the dogs as my tout tout ran over a dog’s paw today. They drivers don’t care. Funny thing is I will never see cats anywhere my whole stay in India.

Maharaj gives talks or teachings every day. On one event I was standing in the back with others, behind the seated listeners gathered around him. He motioned to me to come sit next to him. All eyes are glued upon him and listening intently.

Maharaj was once the king of Bihar. He also had a family. He gave it all up to become a senyassi.

This is the week of Holi. Though Holi is celebrated all over, a group of us went to another town (I cannot remember the name) for the celebration of Holi. I have always wanted to experience this celebration but I was shocked and disappointed to see how aggressive it was. Holi is celebrated by the throwing of color. The color is in the form of powder or liquid. There are millions of people in the streets all over India throwing color and being covered in many colors of paint. Hair, face and clothes are all brightly colored. I thought Holi would be fun, throwing color and being covered in color. But it was definitely not what I had imagined. Liquid color was thrown by bottle-fulls. I was soaked and the water made it cold and uncomfortable. I was glad I had covered my hair in plastic wrap.

We went into a temple where a talk was being given. There were a lot of people. We were all standing so close we were on each other’s feet. When it was time to leave the crowd became completely crazed. The pushing and shoving got to be frightening. Literally hundreds of us were all squished together worse that sardines in a can. Your shoulders were scrunched up because of the crowd bearing into you from all sides. I could see how easy it would be to be literally pushed down and trampled on. I realized how dangerous such crowds could be and that I would be watchful of being caught like this in the future.

This festival, although having a main celebration date, will go on all week. Because of the aggressiveness of the color throwers we all try to stay within the safety of the gated ashram as much as possible, but necessity brings one onto the streets for some reason or the other. This was the case the day when Elisha and I went to Loi Bazaar to get fruit. Mostly we were in a rickshaw but even so we were the target of the color throwers as they chased our rickshaw down the street intent on dowsing us with color. We powder color is fine but when they try and drown you with the colored water it gets insane. The roads are all full of color and cows and dogs lay around on the road all covered in bright colors. We saw the funniest thing, a monkey and a puppy. The monkey was picking at the puppy like they do for grooming. The puppy was completely compliant as he lay there letting the monkey pick away at him. By the time we got back to the ashram we were so covered in color we looked liked we belonged to a circus.

One day I went on a bus with the Hungarians, Germans and people from Bolivia to an auruveda center, which was really interesting. We then went to another couple of towns for sight seeing. One of the towns had something special about Krishna. I can’t remember the names of either town. I offered my box lunch to a monkey and he took the box from my hands and set it down and flipped off the lid and started grabbing chapattis, rice etc., filling his hands with as much as he could, then looking at the rest of the food in the box wondering where he was going to put it, Then another monkey came and began helping himself and others were chased off by these two until they got what they wanted. People from the group came and took pictures of their funny antics. Later at another town I fed them bananas that, of course, they love. One tried to snatch a bag of bananas I had bought. He only managed to tear and destroy the plastic bag, as I held on to the bananas with

all of my might. It paid off, I got the bananas!! People applauded and laughed because the monkeys usually always win. Monkeys are notorious for stealing food, drinks, and also your sunglasses.

I gave a child a couple rupees. Suddenly out of nowhere there appeared a huge crowd of them trying to get rupees from me. I decided that I would buy a kilo of bananas instead and distribute them among the children. I got the children to stand in a single line to receive a banana! That seemed to be a good feat and to accomplish so fast! I was very much impressed as one young boy followed me almost all the way out of town saying something about he didn’t get the 2 rupees or a banana so I gave him a couple rupees as I was out of bananas and then he just disappeared. A man came up and wanted my soda, which was only about partly full. I tried to give him a couple rupees instead but he just wanted the rest of the soda. I gave him my soda and a few rupees so that he may get himself a full bottle. I wish I would have given him more. Some people just touch you in a certain way.

Sat and talked a little with Maharaj yesterday when I took my new room (which I love). Although it is very tiny it is in the area where more travelers stay and has a decent bed. I told him now I could keep a close eye on him. He just laughed in his fun way. Maharaj is a lovely man with much caring for others. It is so easy to see this expressed in his eyes.

Monkeys, monkeys and more monkeys are everywhere in Vrindavan. They are everywhere you go. At night you hear them scraping at each other and banging around outside and on the roof as they chase one another

.

Though the food is really good here at the ashram my stomach has gotten the Indian blues, yet I continue to eat here in the hopes I will get use to it. I don’t however so I do as some of the Europeans are doing and cook my own food in a little kitchen especially for westerners.

I bought some shoes but have to give them away as they cut and cause blisters. Must look for more tomorrow.

Tired and full tonight, don’t know if I’ll make it to the shower. Clothes to wash in the morning and get them hug out to dry.

I had the honor of meeting and spending some time with Prema Jyoti from Switzerland. She is the most beautiful dancer I have ever seen. Her dance was more than inspiring as she circled round and round with eyes closed and graceful movements with her arms and hands. It is definitely something to be experienced as no words could describe the beauty of her movements. She has been dancing all her life. It was difficult to say good-by when she left. Some people you meet you just connect with and when you have to part company, never knowing if you should ever meet again can bring sadness to your heart. The room I am now in was hers.

When I went on the trip with the Europeans, to Kushum Saovar, Radha Kune, and Govadem a turban headed man approached me with a basket, lifted the lid saying something in Hindi. Looking inside the shallow round basket was a cobra! It took me by such surprise that I jumped back without a second thought!

The Hungarians, Bulgarians, and Germans have departed and a few of the Swiss are leaving tomorrow and the rest in a few days. It is hard to see these people whom I have shared time and friendship with leave. The ashram is emptying out. Even Maharaj will be leaving for a village near Bihar tomorrow. The girl from Brazil, Drika, and the German guy, Sham, will still be here.

Sham made delicious pasta tonight. We sat outside in the court and ate until the mosquitoes got too bad.

I gave Maharaj my picture of Krishna and Radha along with a thank you note and my Hanuman poem. He told me my life would be changing now for the better. When I asked how, he said, “ you will see.” He was right because my anxieties were departing. He also said I would back to India many times. I certainly hope that this is true. Even with the hard times I have been through I dearly love India. I sat on his Kunti and we laughed and talked for a little while and I told him he was like a loving father who took care of his children and that I would always remember the love in his eyes.

A couple days ago I did some shopping and took a rickshaw back to the ashram. It took an hour and a half to get back! The first rickshaw ended up taking me to ISHKON which I just got out, paid and immediately had to buy a shopping bag as the bumpy ride had shaken the bottom right out of one of the bags, I still do not know what I lost or if I even did. The roads are so bumpy that I try to lift myself off the seat in the rickshaw as the pounding becomes almost painful.

I then looked for an internet café but could never fine one. Finally I took another rickshaw and we went all over the place, as he also could not find the ashram where I was staying. He tried to get more money once we arrived at the ashram but I just told him it was not my fault that he did not know where he was going. I’m getting the hang (at least a little bit) of the rickshaw scammers.

Electricity off again, hope it comes back on soon, as I want the fan!!

There is the sweetest cow that comes every day for prasad. She loves to be petted and scratched just like a dog. Once you pet her she follows you all around. And when she is scolded for being to close to the prasad pails she hangs her head as if sad or sorry. Sure wish she were my cow. I love her.

I have been sick for the past few days, and not getting much rest, have had to ship some things home and find out about buses, pick up mosquito coils and water. It all just takes so much time and energy. When you are not feeling well it is just draining.

Went to Maharaji Neem Karoli Baba’s ashram and place of His Mahasamadhi. It was very emotional for me. Also went into a room with many pictures of him and bhaghans were being sung. I stayed for quite awhile and want to go back before I leave. Its funny, when I first arrived here and stayed a couple days at the first ashram I never realized that I was almost next door to Neem Karoli Baba’s ashram! But it’s all in Hindi so there was no way I could know.

Drika came to my room tonight and we visited for quite some time, as I will be leaving tomorrow for Varanasi. I still feel bad and my chest really hurts.