27 August 2009

Rishikesh Langurs & Bandhars


The training course in Rishikesh is rather idyllic.

Mornings and evenings I climb to the roof of my bungalow for asanas and pranayam. We are in the forest at the top of a hill. The Ganga is a couple hundred meters down hill, the air nearly pollution free. This ashram has been with the Movement since the early 60's and the atmosphere is very settled. All this makes for very blissful program.

The course participants are are enjoying the atmosphere here as much as I am. We received word that we have to relocate to Maharishi Nagar and we are savoring our last few hours here.

We have 2 varieties of monkeys. The brown furred bandhars, and the gray furred-black faced langurs. The bandhars are the dominant, very aggressive species. Both species have lived proximate to the ashram all these years and are quite used to us humans. They hang out outside the dining hall during lunch freeloading for handouts. We can walk right up to them. It's almost like living in a petting zoo.

The bandhar tribe is led by the alpha male. He fights his way to the top, and then he is the chief fighter in territorial disputes with neighboring bandhar tribes. We get a turf war here every few days. The langurs quietly submit to the bandhars and never fight with them.

The athletic ability and raw power of these small animals puts to shame any human sport prowess. Just the other day the alpha male scooted past me on the road, bounded up a small tree to the roof of the bungalow next to it, leaped to a taller tree and sprinted 20 meters up in the blink of an eye. From there he leaped into space falling 7 or 8 meters and landing solidly on a dead branch, a landing space less than a meter square, hesitated for a second or 2 just to show off that he did not need to counterbalance his prodigious leap high above the ground, then leaped out another 7 or so meters to grasp the slender bushy ends of a branch which bent low under his weight, at the lowest point of this dip he made a final drop onto the fence near where I was, next to some frightened tribe members. The whole exhibition took only a few heartbeats. Each move could have sent him plummeting to his death, but his skill and agility were extraordinary. I'm not sure who he was showing off for more: his tribal members who needed a reminder of who was boss, or for us admiring humans.

Going into Rishikesh is another delight. There are all sorts of bookstores, rudraksha stores, brassware shops, dhoti/kurta/sari/punjabi shops, restaurants, etc. There are lots of westerners here digging the scene, and lots of beggars posing as mendicant sanyasis. Instead of merely asking for rupees, the beggars all say, "Hari Om", and the tourists mostly seem to help them.

The high point of the day is slipping down to the Ganga for snan. The temperature is pretty brisk, but during the day the air temp is sufficiently high that a quick dip in the Ganges is tolerable. For thousands of years the Ganga has been considered to be a source of purity. A dip removes earthly dirt and sins. Our dips are very invigorating no matter what the spiritual benefit.

Tomorrow we will take the Movement bus back to Maharishi Nagar. We will stop along the way in Harki Pauri Ghat in Haridwar, central site of the Haridwar Kumbha Mela. A quick snan, lunch, then on to Delhi.

06 August 2009

Jammu & Kashmir

Jammu & Kashmir

June 1998



Every spring my 2 year business college in India recruits new students for the Fall Semester. The Faculty travel to major metropolitan areas to give presentations on the MBA to prospective students and their parents. The professors travel in teams of 2, one Indian Core Faculty, one International Faculty. A meeting room is booked in a 3 star hotel. We make a presentation in the morning and conduct the entrance exam in the after noon. We alternate travel days and presentation days, so the tour is a whirlwind trip through the Land of the Veda.

In India, parents take a much more active role in guiding the lives of their children. Consequently it is not unusual for half the audience to be men in the 45 – 65 age range. If the stern parent likes what he hears at our morning lecture, a hapless son or daughter with no prior knowledge of who we are shows up on our doorstep that afternoon to take the exam. India has over 1 billion people. A very high demand for jobs is chasing after a short supply of openings. Even among the educated class, jobs are scarce. Concerned parents recognize that placement demand far exceeds supply and getting their children set-up in a good career requires an edge. The chief focus of parents and students is the placement potential provided by a graduate degree: will the MBA enhance the student's ability to land a job? How much will the MBA degree increase the starting salary and lifetime earning potential?

My tour took me North of Delhi. First stop was Chandigarh. Most Indian cities have very narrow streets with stores that cannot be entered. Indian shops have a board across the front that serves as counter, desk and barrier to entry. Customers tell the owner what they want. No matter what the customer says, none of the helpers (punes) budges until the owner repeats the request to them. Chandigarh is different. It is the most western looking city I've seen in India. It has wide boulevard streets and stores that you can enter and look around. The city is clean and beautiful. The population is predominately Sikh, this alone makes the populace more industrious and honest than the norm.

Next stop was Ludhiana. It reminds me of a dirty, sooty, heavy manufacturing city that one finds all over the world. After that was Jalandhar, another highly developed and relatively clean city.

Last stop was Jammu. Jammu the city is the primary urban center for the southern portion of the state of Jammu & Kashmir, known here as J&K. Jammu is surrounded by hills. Further North in Kashmir are the mountains.

I was intrigued by what would happen in Jammu. It is 20 km from the Pakistan border. India & Pakistan are rattling their sabers now. Pakistan is playing a dangerous game of one upmanship. India explodes 5 nukes. Pak explodes 6. Pak invaded India in 67 and 72. India won both times. Lots of resentment on both sides.

J&K is where the Paks conduct their terrorist campaigns. J&K has been under a US State Dept. Travelers Advisory informing US Citizens it is dangerous to travel there. Jammu hasn't had the terrorist attacks that Srinagar has. Nevertheless, Jammu is an armed camp. My personal estimate is that one out of every 8 men on the streets is wearing an Indian Army, Border Security Forces, or police uniform and is armed with an automatic rifle. In the rest of India, police carry ancient large bore single shot rifles. Here in Jammu police and military carry state of the art small bore lightweight full auto weapons that appear to be very well used. My tactic is to stay the 2 days and get out. No one will know in advance that an American citizen is coming on this tour, so threat of kidnapping or murder should be minimal. Make the “Z” and get out.

People are talking of war. The papers are filled daily with editorials discussing every angle from military to political. The front page is filled with articles on the arms build up, threats, posturing etc. Pakistan has already tested its Chinese designed Gauri missile which is capable of delivering a nuclear warhead into Delhi. Clinton just authorized release to Pakistan of a 1991 sale of $680 million F-16 jet with nuke delivery capability. I'm getting a sense of deja vu. Didn't I go through this in the 60's? Instead of 2 superpowers making threats and jostling for position during the Cold War, now we have 2 regional powers standing eyeball-to-eyeball daring the other to blink. And lurking behind the scenes are the US and China selling arms and technology to both combatants while publicly decrying the military build-up.

And I'm in the middle of it trying to get 60 kids to come to our school.

Billions of dollars are being spent on devices that can rip the fabric of the universe. How can these devices protect your people when the other guy has the same weapons systems you have? There is no safety in nuclear, chemical or biological warfare. As Barry McGuire said in his 1968 song, “The Eve of Destruction”: " When the button is pushed, there's no runnin’ away with the whole world in a grave." I just hope India and Pakistan come to their senses and stop this arms escalation.

There is hope, however, in the customs of the people. Take a fender bender, for example. Over here they yell and scream, shake a fist, but rarely does it erupt into physical violence. As long as India and Pakistan are talking tough, at least they're still talking. If the2 countries act according to the customs of their citizens, then eventually they will both turn and walk away without any real violence having been done.

It is interesting to note that India's version of the Natural Law Party, Ajeya Bharat Invincible India, campaigned on the elimination of foreign dependence of money and arms. Once a country relies on another country for finances and weaponry, then it is dependent on that other country. The sanctions imposed by the USA, Japan, Canada, Australia, the IMF and the World Bank on India are in effect the fulfillment of the goal of the Ajeya Bharat. The foreign supports have been removed and India must stand on her own.

On the 6 hour train ride to Jammu, we shared a compartment with an Indian Army Colonel. We enjoyed each other's company. We told him about our B-School and he explained the Indo-Pak conflict and history. We invited him to dinner. He showed up with an armed escort in an Armored Personnel Carrier (APC). He apologized saying that all Army personnel were on a 2 hour alert due to the current situation. We went to a very nice restaurant and toured Jammu.

I got to thinking about it later. Suppose I had been feeling nervous about going to Jammu and wanted to take precautions against kidnapping or murder. How many days of phoning would I need to make to locate a bulletproof vehicle and how much would it cost to hire armed guards and the vehicle? It would have taken a lot of time, effort and money. Yet Nature decided I warranted the protection and just organized it all for me. And I got a combat experienced Colonel to organize my protection.

When we drove up to the fancy restaurant, we made quite a scene just quietly getting out of the APC. Needless to say, we received the highest respect and best service imaginable. It was a hoot.

After dinner, my Indian faculty partner and I indulged in my hobby of going to some of the mandirs, Hindu temples. Our Colonel friend recommended the best ones to visit. India is filled with opportunities to discover experiences of the divine.

For example, a wealthy American took a month tour here recently with one of my International Faculty associates. One of the sites he visited was a Shiva mandir with a reputation as a holy place. The wealthy man is a devout Catholic. He was instructed to place his forehead on the Shiva Linga and think of his own personal deity. The man did this thinking to himself, "Father, Son and Holy Ghost". Instantly he saw the 3 aspects of the Catholic God merge into the One. When the man opened his eyes he was told not to mind the different names religions have for the divine because all describe the same reality. What is the difference if you call your God Shiva, Allah, Jehovah, or God? Different names for the same underlying reality. He was then pointed to the 3 pronged Shiva trident, the Trishul, and immediately recognized it as a 3-in-1 symbol.

Visiting the mandirs is a personal experience, it varies from person to person and from time to time. There seems to be a consensus that some places elicit a consistent experience of something that goes beyond the 5 senses, mind, intellect and ego. Different places produce different flavors of these experiences. Jammu was especially rich in spiritual experience.

My Indian Faculty buddy and I visited one Hanuman mandir that had a powerful Shiva Linga. The mandir is located on a strategic bridge in the middle of the city. After our visit we were told that in the 72 Indo-Pak War, a Pak pilot tried to bomb the mandir and thus destroy the bridge. As he made his approach he reported being suddenly blinded by a bright light and then he crashed. Local talk says something protects that bridge which isn't in the Indian Defense Budget.

Every mandir we visited had a taste of something that is beyond the mundane. Jammu is so beautiful. It would be very easy to retire there. Everything would be perfect if it weren't for the 114 - 122 degree Fahrenheit average daily temperature. But despite all the heat and conflict India is the experience of a lifetime.

05 August 2009

Sri Kedarnath

Kedarnath


There's no place else on Earth that has more holidays than India. Not only does it celebrate even the most obscure Hindu holy days with time off from work and school, but also the major Moslem, Jain, and Christian holy days as well, plus the assortment of government holidays. The combination of Vijaya Dashami & Dussera gave my college another week off from classes. Faced with that much down time, 3 of us American faculty decided it was time to see Kedarnath (kay-DHAR-not).

Kedarnath is high in the Himalayas and is open only from May to October. It is closed due to snow the rest of the year. If we were going to see any of the high country holy places, we had to go now or wait till next spring. I mentioned our intention to Urs, the Swiss faculty member who speaks fluent Hindi and has lived many years here in India. He said that his car mechanic in Noida could arrange a car and driver for us who was expert at driving the tricky mountain passes. We drove to the mechanic's garage and negotiated the terms of the deal. We were to start on Thursday the 1st of October at 7AM. The trip will be a full day's drive to Rudra Prayag, an overnight stay there, then a 3 hour drive to Gaurikund. From there we will hike on foot approximately 6 hours up the mountain to Kedarnath. Stay overnight there, and then return.

Thursday morning 7AM: no taxi. 7:30AM: still no taxi. I get Urs and we call the taxi company. No answer. At 8AM we drive to the taxi company. No taxi company. They have moved and none of the locals knows where. We drive to the mechanic's home in Noida. He is apologetic saying he arranged the whole thing and doesn't know why the taxi did not show. He drives to the new location of the taxi company and we follow in Urs' car. Urs' mechanic discusses the issue with his friend, the boss at the taxi company. It seems a day earlier the taxi owner had paid a visit to the mechanic to get confirmation that the Kedarnath trip was on. The mechanic had received the owner as an old friend and offered him chai (tea). The owner assumed the mechanic knew that the purpose of this visit was to get confirmation of the trip, so he did not broach the subject. When the mechanic did not mention the trip, the owner assumed the trip was off. The mechanic did not realize he was supposed to mention the trip because he thought it was purely a friendly visit. One of my favorite quotes from Rik Veda, 10th Mandala is, "The gods are fond of the indirect; yea, verily the gods are fond of the indirect." Sometimes the subtleties of Indian etiquette are so obscure that even the Indian's don't read the signs properly.

The owner says it is no problem to get a car and driver. Just wait 5 minutes. Of course the definition of 5 minutes is different to an Indian than to a Westerner. It is now 8:15. We figure 5 minutes actually means 15 minutes and bide our time. By 9AM still no car. Finally the promised new red Maruti van shows up. We start to load up and the owner waves us off. It seems the driver's "Mommy & Poppy" have told the driver he is not to go to Kedarnath. We wait another 15 minutes.

A full hour and a half after we arrived at the taxi company a beat up Maruti arrives. The doors & windows won't open from the inside, but what the hey. We pile in and start our trek. For some reason Rusty is apprehensive. With things going so smoothly I can't imagine why. He checks out the gas gauge. Empty. He directs the driver's attention to it and receives the usual “No problem.” We drive another 15 minutes and pull into a petrol pump (gas station). Cars come and go but we do not get refueled. After several minutes of observing the driver and station attendants stand around and stare at the rear end of our van without actually doing anything, we decide to check it out.

The gas cap is locked and our driver does not have the key. What to do? The driver does not speak English, we do not speak Hindi, but as best we can make out, the driver is suggesting 2 alternative solutions: 1) He will call the taxi company, they will dispatch a car with the gas cap key. 2) We wait for a Maruti van to pull into the petrol pump and use their key to open our cap. As for option #1, I figure that it took an hour and a half for the taxi company to locate a car. There is no guarantee they can get another car any sooner this time, also there is no guarantee they will bring the right gas cap key. As for number 2, we do not know how long it will take for another van of the same year or model to show up and repeating this procedure throughout our 5 day trip seems like a needless delay.

It is now 10:30AM and our trip has been delayed repeatedly. We opt to reschedule our departure for Friday the 2nd. The taxi driver finds our behavior perplexing & amusing. He obviously thinks that everything is going along smoothly, why stop now? Yes, us Westerners are an inscrutable lot.

On Oct. 2nd the taxi driver showed up at promptly 7AM, he had with him a key to the gas cap of our Maruti van, and we felt the Mahurta (auspicious time for beginning any event) was propitious. The drive was pleasant. Most of that day the temperature was in the 90 Degree Fahrenheit range. As we drove, we realized that going as far as Rudra Prayag would take us pretty late into the evening. We hit Dev Prayag around 5PM and elected to stop.

Prayag and sangam mean a confluence of rivers. There are 5 confluences of rivers in this area, called Panch Prayag. Dev Prayag is the confluence of the Bhagirathi and the Alakananda Rivers. Perhaps you recall the story: King Sagar performed the Ashwamedha (horse) sacrifice in order to establish dominion over all of Earth. Indra, ruler of the gods, was jealous of the mortal ruler's power. So he surreptitiously led the horse to the vicinity of the powerful sage Kapila Muni. King Sagar sent his 60,000 sons to find the horse. After searching all over the surface of the Earth, the 60,000 sons started to dig into it. They found the horse grazing near the meditating Kapila Muni. They jumped to conclusions and started to harass the sage.

Treating highly enlightened sages with disrespect is generally not a good idea. Kapila Muni opened his eyes and instantly incinerated the entire lot. After the 60,000 sons and sacrificial horse failed to show up, King Sagar sent his other son, Anshuman to look for them. The 60,000 sons had blazed a pretty wide trail (no pun intended) so following them to Sage Muni's hermitage was not too difficult. Anshuman handled the diplomacy better than his 60,000 brothers. He found out that only the waters of the Ganga once washed over the ashes of the 60,000 could liberate the souls of his brothers. He tried and failed to get Ganga to descend to Earth. Likewise his son Dilip fell short of the mark.

Sagar's great grandson King Bhagirathi performed great tapas (austerities) to propitiate Vishnu to allow Ganga to descend from Heaven and succeeded. But the force of Ganga's fall would have destroyed the Earth. So next he performed even more severe tapas to propitiate Shiva to break the force of the fall. Shiva agreed. Ganga in her pride and anger fell with all her force onto Shiva's matted locks, but Shiva held her in her entirety. She wandered for years lost in his hair but could not find her way out. Again Bhagirathi propitiated Shiva. Finally after several more years Shiva allowed a small stream of Ganga to descend to Earth.

The agreed upon deal was that Bhagirathi would lead Ganga to the 60,000 and she would follow. Several more obstacles blocked the path and had to be solved. One stoppage occurred when she passed the saptarishis, the 7 rishis, and they refused her passage. Bhagirathi told her to divide herself into 7 streams and touch the feet of the rishis. She did this and was permitted to pass. These are the 7 streams that fall from high up in the Himalayas and eventually merge together to form the Ganges River.

Finally Ganga reached the 60,000 brothers, purified their ashes so their souls could ascend to heaven. This place is identified as Sagar Island in the Bay of Bengal and is a place of huge pilgrimage.

Back to Dev Prayag, it is the final confluence of the 7 streams. From that point onward is the actual Ganges River. Dev Prayag is considered the 2nd most auspicious sangam in India, behind only the Prayagraj of Allahabad. We found a hotel, and then walked to the sangam for our dip. The waters refreshed the body and the soul.

Why do people go to India? It's not for the skiing, the golfing, the gambling or theme parks. Nations historically went to India for riches. But the people who fall in love with the culture do so because of its spirituality. Everywhere you go in India is hallowed. There are shrines, mandirs, gurudwharas, masjids, temples, and churches on every block. And even that is not enough. Trees are festooned with flowers and paid homage. Sacred Cows wander everywhere. Then there is the traditional Indian greeting, "Namaste," which is lyrically translated as "the Divine which is in me, bows to the Divine which is in you." There are renunciates, sages, sadhus, sanyasis, saints, aspirants, babas, shastris, and holy people where ever you go. Everywhere there is a holy spot where the Divine is paid homage. With over 1 billion people performing daily obeisance, the whole country feels spiritual.

Years ago I heard a lecture by a professor who had done a temple tour of India. I remember listening to the anecdotes of his pilgrimage and thinking to myself, "I'd really like to do that." But where would I find the time or the freedom to do this? Somehow Nature has supported this desire of mine. In the context of my job I am sent to India and am able to take time off to see the incredible sites of this huge, magnificent country.

We left our hotel at 6AM the morning of the 3rd. It was going to be a long day and we wanted to get an early start. We drove to Rudra Prayag for lunch. From Delhi to Haridwar was flatland and we averaged 80 kmp. Haridwar, through Rishikesh and onto Rudra Prayag was a more gradual ascent through rolling hills. We encountered a lot of switchbacks but were able to maintain a 50kmp rate. But from Rudra Praya the switchbacks became serious with many hairpin turns. Our rate of travel dropped to 20 kmp. In several places the road was gone, and our delicate 2WD Maruti van picked its way across rock strewn avalanche aftermaths of what was once the road. The other vehicles were all 4WD Tata Sumo's, jeeps, and an occasional Toyota Land Cruiser.

Driving in the mountains in India is a trip in every sense of the word. Cars are supposed to drive on the left-hand side of the road. However, when one side of the road has a sheer cliff incline and the other a sheer drop-off, the natural tendency is to hug the inner wall regardless of direction of travel. Rounding outside curves is a breathtaking experience because you never know if a bus is hurtling down from the other direction leaving you a split second before glimpsing ultimate reality. The sporadic news stories of buses and cars plunging off the road and crashing several hundred meters below help to fuel the imagination. The traveler must just surrender to the experience. Fortunately the 3 of us felt at a quiet feeling level that our time was not yet up. The many near misses were just viewed with amusement. Of course it could also be argued that newly reaching a higher altitude produces a rapture that warps the judgment. But whatever the cause, the drive was pleasant and the scenery worth whatever risks we were taking.

We reached Gaurakund by 1PM. My goal had been to walk up the 14 km ascent to Sri Kedarnath. But the 1 km walk from the parking lot up a 200 meter incline to the mule rental area left me breathless. Gaurikund is just less than 2000 m. high, but my body had had no time to adjust to the altitude. We rented the mules and started our ascent. Thousands of pilgrims make the climb every day. I was ashamed of myself when I saw little old ladies dressed in saris and sandals making the climb on foot. But all I could do was sit in the saddle like a sack of potatoes.

Before leaving Delhi, one of the habitually paranoid faculty members had informed us that the mules at Kedarnath were not shod, that the center portion of the path was so rough from years of use that in order to preserve their tender hooves the mules walked up the mountain just inches from the edge of a shear drop, and that you could not get a mules ride going down. Fortunately none of these stories was accurate. The mules were shod and they stayed very close to the inner wall of the 3 meter wide path up the mountain side. The Kedarnath climb has been thoroughly domesticated. And it is easy to rent mules for the descent.

After 3 hours I was too saddle sore to sit any longer. The 3 of us Americans dismounted and hiked the last 4 or 5 km to the top. We had to go very slowly because we had not adapted yet to the height. Sri Kedarnath is almost 3600m high. The view was glorious. Here we are high up in the Himalayas and these towering, thundering waterfalls are dropping 1000m to the valley below. Think of 10 football fields straight down. We are so high up: Where does all this water come from? It is easy to see how the Ganga story is so credible: all this water must come from the heavens and drop to Earth to purify it of sin.

We slowly walk into the town of Sri Kedarnath at 6PM. It is about 35 degrees Fahrenheit. That's a 55 degree drop in temperature in about 12 hours time. As we look for a hotel in the dim light of dusk I see a bunch of pundits standing around barefoot showing no visible signs of chill. We check into a very nice place about 100m from the Sri Kedarnath Mandir.

Wherever we go in India, checking in always involves the same incredulity on the part of the hotel staff.

"Do you have rooms?"

"How much for a room?"

"May we see a room?" So far everything is fine. But once we see the room and decide the place is acceptable, a game of cultural bumper cars takes place:

"We want 3 rooms."

"How many are you?"

"We have just 3 men."

"3 men? Then why do you want 3 rooms?"

"We each want our own room."

"But why?" In India friends and family sleep many to a bed. The sense of community demand is stronger or something. But the Indian cannot grok the need Westerners have for individuality and personal space. This scene repeats itself on every trip. Usually I don't know what to say, so I just keep demanding one room for each man until the hotel staff finally believes me. But this time after several repeats of the incredulous "Why do you want 3 rooms?!!?" I blurted out, "Because we're American! That's our custom!" Immediately the staffer relaxed and said, "Oh." We got our 3 rooms. No heat in the rooms but very clean.

The fresh air is so filled with prana, but it is thin and movements must be slow as our bodies are unaccustomed to operating at altitude. I feel sweaty from the climb and would really like a bath, but even wrapped in blankets my fatigued body is on the verge of hypothermia. Fortunately by next morning I've adjusted to the temperature and altitude. Bathing in just-above-freezing weather presents no problem. The Sri Kedarnath Mandir is set in front of a huge mountain. The mandir is notable for 2 Mahabharata events.

After the Battle of Kurukshetra, the Pandavas wanted to obtain forgiveness for killing so many people in the war. They seek out Shiva. Shiva eludes them for quite some time. They finally locate him high up in the mountains. But Shiva transforms himself into the form of a bull. The Pandavas are able to discern him anyway. Bhima, the strongest of the 5 brothers, attempted to catch hold of the Shiva bull. But the bull sank into the Earth until only the hump was still visible. Shiva then appeared to them in his divine form, exonerated the Pandavas of their sins, and told them to worship the hump (which had turned into rock) as a Shiva Linga. The Sri Kedarnath Shiva Linga is one of the 12 Jyotir Lingas.

The other story is that when the brothers were old and ready to pass away, they started hiking up the mountains towards heaven. The point where they left the physical world and began the climb in the celestial realms is behind the Sri Kedarnath Mandir.

My imagination goes wild with the concept of climbing terra firma in this space-time geometry and then shifting into another space-time geometry for the climb into the celestial. I was raised on Twilight Zone stories of people slipping through a portal between parallel universes. The celestial realms are the finest relative, but what is that in terms of superstring theory with its 10 dimensional construct super compactified into specific universes? I recall Dr. Doug Henning’s Fairfield talk in the Zimmerman Tennis Courts after the 1992 Natural Law Party Celebration. He tells of our solar system orbiting the galactic center; our galaxy hurtling out into space from the point of origin of the Big Bang; the local group of galaxies clustered together; all the galaxies and spatial phenomenon of our universe expanding infinitely outwards; the local group of universes; all the universes of the physical realms; above these universes the various Heavens, swargas; below these universes the various Hells, talas; the whole taken together is Haranya Garba, the Cosmic Egg. I wonder how this is described in quantum physics, alternate universes, and so on.

What did the Pandavas experience as they left this material realm and ascended into the celestial? Hard to imagine. The view in the Himalayas is already most celestial. The air is not the only thing that is thin; once again I am in a location where the veil between mundane and spiritual is very thin indeed. Behind Sri Kedarnath it does seem possible to climb the mountain and at the top of the peak keep climbing a stairway to heaven.

I am out of the hotel early the morning of the 4th. It is my 51st birthday. I go to the Sri Kedarnath Mandir. There are pandits outside doing Rudrabhishek. I sit quietly in lotus position for several hours. Around 10AM the purjari says, "Snow falling." I look up and see a snow avalanche descending on the near face of the mountain behind the Mandir. The mountain is many kilometers away and the avalanche presents no threat. The weather is crystal clear and I watch the thousands of tons of snow majestically cascade down the side of the mountain. Around 11AM the sky gets cloudy and the other 2 guys show up wondering if I brought my camera. I'm still too new at this thing to automatically bring it with me or to remember to catch that great shot.

Two days later in Haridwar we ascend the city's largest hill to view the Mansa Devi Mandir. Rusty had repeatedly requested shots of monkeys. I knew that monkeys would be up the hill and kept reminding myself to bring the camera on the drive over. As we descend the hill after having dharshan at the mandir, Rusty decides to throw some prasad at a monkey. He is used to feeding the pet dog at the college who patiently waits for his chapadis. Rusty attempts to meticulously untie the knot on the plastic bag containing the sweets, but he is too slow and the monkey ferociously launches himself at Rusty; Rusty reflexively pushes the prasad away from his body as the monkey smacks into the bag, tears it open strewing rock candy everywhere, then sits brooding over it just daring us to try to come near. When I saw what Rusty was doing, I intuitively knew what was going to happen and could have gotten a great blackmail shot of my buddy getting attacked by a monkey. But NOOooooo! I had again forgotten the camera.

After the Rudrabhishek, we catch lunch and head down the mountain. It is so much easier on the lungs going down than up, so we walk. Going down is easy on the muscles but murder on the knees. Of course sitting in padma asana for 4 hours before making a 5 hour climb down hill is really asking for it. By the time I reach Gaurikund at 5:30PM, I am managing to limp on both legs. A fairly difficult accomplishment, but the other 2 guys agree that's what I'm doing.

We spend the night in Som Prayag, then head to Rishikesh. Rishikesh is a spiritual tourist mecca. People from all over the world head there to catch a taste of the spiritual side of India. Beautiful, clean, huge ashrams are everywhere. Stalls are set up to sell Rudraksha, silks, cashmere, spiritual books, and more. Thousands of tourists check into the ashrams for a week of some meditation, then head back home to tell their friends they've been there, done that. We cross the fairly new Ram Jhula suspension bridge. About 20 minutes walk to the right brings you to the end of the paved walkways. Just beyond the hustle and bustle is the Maharishi Academy. Security is very tight and no one gets in without an invitation. But I just had to see the place.

We stay in a nice hotel. Next morning I get out the door at dawn, head to the point on the Ganga that is in front of the Maharishi Ashram. I take snan in the Ganga and then have one of the most glorious programs of my career as a meditator. I can see why people come to Rishikesh and the Himalayas to gain enlightenment.

After program we visit the stalls and contribute to the local economy, then drive to Hardwar. Or is it Haridwar? "Har" is Shiva and "Hari" is Vishnu; therefore the pronunciation of this name labels one as Shaivite or Vishnuite. Dwar means gate. Hardwar or Haridwar is the Gateway to Sri Kedarnath & Sri Badrinath, the holy shrines respectively of Har & Hari.

Hardwar is one of the four sites where the Kumbha Mela is held. These 4 sites mark the spot where the Amrita, nectar of immortality fell when the Devatas & Asuras struggled with the Kailash produced from the churning of the ocean of milk.

We are told that the Shri Anandamaya Ma Ashram is a nice, clean, inexpensive place to stay and find our way there. It is gorgeous. The people running this facility know us and we are permitted to rent rooms for the night. It is one of the nicest stays in India. Everything about the place is sattvic and well managed.

Across the way is the Daksha Mandir. This place is infamous in the Puranas and Vedas. Daksha wanted to perform the first yagya. He invited all the gods except his son-in-law Shiva. Shiva's wife, Sati wanted to attend. Shiva initially said, "No." He told her if she went, she would loose her life. But all the other deities were going and her Father held the event, she had to go. When she arrived, her Father did not acknowledge her existence. She cursed him for his insult to Shiva and immolated herself in the sacrificial fire. When Shiva heard about his wife's death he destroyed the place and many of the gods. He then took his wife's body on his back and in inconsolable sorrow walked the entire Earth many times. The other deities petitioned Vishnu to help remedy the intolerable sadness of Shiva. Vishnu walked behind Shiva and hacked off parts of Sati's body. These parts fell to Earth and became the 53 Shakti Peeths around India, Bangladesh, Pakistan & Nepal. When the last part fell, Shiva was released of the emotional & physical load he was carrying. Sati reincarnated as Himavan's daughter, Parvati. After intense tapas she won Shiva as her husband.

This Daksha Mandir is supposed to be the site of the original yagya and the huge conflagration that followed. There is even a Shiva Linga there that is hacked down almost to nothing that is supposed to have been mutilated in the original fight between Daksha's supporters and Shiva's.

Further up the road is a very interesting phenomenon. It is the Parad Shiva Linga. Param in Sanskrit means mercury and the transcendent. When mercury is chemically bound to a base metal, the amalgam is a dull looking solid that bears no resemblance to the mirror like beauty of liquid mercury. Some sage a few years ago figured out how to make a solid compound of mercury that shines with the same reflective qualities of liquid mercury. The secret apparently was never passed on. We saw the Linga. It shined and reflected like liquid mercury, but was a beautifully formed linga shape.

After the trip up the hill to Mansa Devi, the form of Shakti Durga who fulfills desires, we headed back to Delhi. We had a grand adventure. It is so very interesting to see places where all those interesting stories in the Veda and Vedic Literature took place. Now it's back to school. In less than a week the next class arrives and we start teaching again.

Rishikesh

Rishikesh


Dec. of 98 was a very Indian month for me. Lots of activity that had a flavor peculiar to this interesting country.

The college where I teach was organizing an symposium for our students in Rishikesh at the Maharishi Academy for SCI. Naturally I'm very excited at this opportunity and cannot resist getting involved in the organizing. The Academy has one phone. It rings somewhere. I'm sure it must. But no one is ever around to answer it. Beds and bed linen must be arranged, food purchased, cooks and cooks helpers provided, a dining hall, meeting halls, meditation halls for ladies and men scheduled, etc. But the unanswered phone presents a typical Indian experience. I tell the Director and he suggests I go up there with some of the college administrative staff. A 6 hour drive each way to cover a few operational details... I'm not complaining, mind you. Rishikesh is a great place to visit. It just seems a waste of time and resources. But ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

We set a day and time. I'm to meet one of the staff out front of the college housing facility at 8AM. I'm there at the appointed hour, no staffer. I wait 10 minutes. No car either. I head over to the man's room. He invites me in for chai. Even though we had agreed to meet outside he assumed I would come over to see him. The lack of car bothers me, but I am determined to adjust to the unspoken mores of this country. If he is not going to bring it up, neither will I. We talk for about a half hour. Around 8:45 I figure I gotta do it. "What about the car? We are going to Rishikesh this morning, aren't we?" It seems the car had to go pick up milk for the students. Actually, not the car, but the jeep. Most of the cars are broken down. The one working car wouldn't make it to Rishikesh, so we had to take the jeep, and the jeep is the only vehicle large enough to pick up the milk, so we have to wait for it to return. Now this all seems logical. But none of this is explained up front. It is all assumed. Or Indians are telepathic and just know this stuff without having to ask. So why wouldn't I know? Also us Westerners have a clock for a brain. We are the only ones worried about arriving somewhere in time to do something. Here in India you take it as it comes. So what's the problem? There is no problem. This is the way it is. I roll with it cuz I figure that's why I'm here, to adapt to a different style of functioning, not for me to try to make the Indian world work the way my culture sez it should.

Around 9:30 the jeep shows up. Everyone is smiling and happy. The hostel warden and I hop into the car with the driver and off we go. After a half hour we pull up in front of some fancy digs and the chief administrative assistant hops in. I think, "Great." This guy is very competent and things are sure to go smoothly with him helping with the Academy negotiations. We drive for another 20 minutes, we still aren't outside of Delhi, and we stop at an apartment complex. The Systems Manager hops in. All this was arranged but somehow never communicated to me. "Alright, what's really going on?"

Seems there's a computer issue that involves some people in Meerut. That issue will be discussed and resolved on the way back. OK.

We drive for a few hours, then stop in a backwater town. The administrative assistant is all smiles as he hops out. Seems there's a cousin getting married and he was just hitchhiking. But of course when I mentioned my pleasure at his accompanying us to Rishikesh, he somehow neglected to inform me that he was not going there.

Instead of arriving in Rishikesh at 2PM as planned, we roll in at dusk. It takes 45 minutes to walk from the Muni Ki Reti side of the Ram Jula Bridge to the Ashram. Luckily I've been there before and can find my way in the dark. I am a little concerned though. Westerners aren't allowed in without advance permission from the ashram administration. We haven't gotten thru to anyone so I'm expecting the guards to turn me away. But the hostel warden is unconcerned. He is very confident that there will be no problem.

We get to the Ashram and the guard pays very little attention to me. One set of rules for Foreigners, another set for Indians. I'm with Indians so everything is cool. But how do these guys know? They've never been here, I have. Yet they just know how it will all work out. Same way for the car and the agenda. Everyone just seems to know when things will happen, how they will happen, who is involved. And us Westerners have to ask all these stupid questions. India never ceases to amaze me.

After going thru the main gate of the Academy, we ascend a steep hill paved with mortared stones. On either side of the path are small cylindrical bungalows with a small dome on top. The buildings are all built in a forest. Lights from distant windows blink as branches wave in the wind. The atmosphere inside the walls of the compound is euphoric. Such a sharp contrast from outside the gate. I see figures scurry occasionally from one path to another. Or a couple of girls in gaily colored saris giggling between them. And it all seems ever so familiar. Where have I seen this? The buildings, the forest, the hills, the cobbled pathways. Then it strikes me: Rivendell. J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings Trilogy describes the elven community so similarly to the Rishikesh Academy. I half expect Frodo Baggins and Gandolf the Grey to pass me discussing the One Ring that Binds Them All.

Of course the other cause for deja vu is the various books describing Maharishi's TTC courses with the Beatles, Mia Farrow, the Beachboys, as well as early Movement luminaries such as Walter Koch and Jerry Jarvis. I had read about the cylindrical houses made of stone with the little built in meditation cave on the roof. Maharishi had designed them. It is so exciting seeing it all in person up close.

My next India orientation meeting is the next morning. The previous evening my 2 traveling companions made it clear that the meeting in Meerut was for 12 noon sharp. We simply HAD to be there by then. OK, I'm flexible. That means leaving by 8:30 AM, which means a second day of doing program bouncing in a jeep. So I'm ready to go at 8:30. The guys show up and want to go to the Ganga and visit a mandir. Then after a half hour they want to eat breakfast. I saw that one coming. We head in the general direction of Meerut by 9:30, stopping in the little town to pick up the Administrative Assistant and roll into Meerut at 2:30. Just on time by Indian standards but 2 and a half hours late by mine. Don't get me wrong, I had a wonderful experience, and enjoyed the side trips. But I just want to know when an Indian says, "I will meet you at 10," what does that mean?


A year later I’m back in Rishikesh conducting a business training program for new hires.

The stay in Rishikesh is idyllic. Mornings and evenings I climb to the roof of my bungalow for asanas and pranayam. We are in the forest at the top of a hill. The Ganga is a couple hundred meters down hill, the air nearly pollution free. The course participants are enjoying the atmosphere here as much as I am.

We have 2 varieties of monkeys. The brown furred bandhars, and the gray furred-black faced langurs. The bandhars are the dominant, very aggressive species. Both species have lived proximate to the ashram all these years and are quite used to us humans. They hang out outside the dining hall during lunch freeloading for handouts. We can walk right up to them. It's almost like living in a petting zoo.

The bandhar tribe is led by the alpha male. He fights his way to the top, and then he is the chief fighter in territorial disputes with neighboring bandhar tribes. We get a turf war here every few days. The langurs quietly submit to the bandhars and never fight with them.

The athletic ability and raw power of these small animals puts to shame any human sport prowess. Just the other day the alpha male scooted past me on the road, bounded up a small tree to the roof of the bungalow next to it, leaped to a taller tree and sprinted 20 meters up in the blink of an eye. From there he leaped into space falling 7 or 8 meters and landing solidly on a dead branch, a landing space less than a meter square, hesitated for a second or 2 just to show off that he did not need to counterbalance his prodigious leap high above the ground, then leaped out another 7 or so meters to grasp the slender bushy ends of a branch which bent low under his weight. At the lowest point of this dip he made a final drop onto the fence near where I was, next to some frightened tribe members. The whole exhibition took only a few heartbeats. Each move could have sent him plummeting to his death, but his skill and agility were extraordinary. I'm not sure who he was showing off for more: his tribal members who needed a reminder of who was boss, or for us admiring humans.

Going into Rishikesh is another delight. There are all sorts of bookstores, rudraksha stores, brassware shops, jewelry stores, dhoti/kurta/sari/punjabi shops, restaurants, etc. There are lots of westerners here digging the scene, and lots of beggars posing as mendicant sanyasis. Instead of merely asking for rupees, the beggars all say, "Hari Om", and the tourists mostly seem to help them.

The high point of the day is slipping down to the Ganga for snan (dip in holy waters). The temperature is pretty brisk, but during the day the air temp is sufficiently high that a quick dip in the Ganges is tolerable. For thousands of years the Ganga has been considered to be a source of purity. A dip removes earthly dirt and sins. Our dips are very invigorating no matter what the spiritual benefit.

Kurukshetra

Kurukshetra


In between teaching courses at Maharishi Institutes of Management, I had some time off. So 3 of us American faculty decided to take a yatra to one of the holy sites in India. A pilgrimage to a spiritual place is called a "yatra". We decided on a yatra to Kurukshetra, the battlefield where the Pandavas and the Kurus fought it out over 5000 years ago.

As you may recall from the Mahabharata, just before the battle commenced, Lord Krishna and Arjuna, the top warrior for the Pandavas, went out to the middle of the battlefield between the 2 opposing armies. There Lord Krishna delivered his discourse on attaining enlightenment. This lecture is contained in the Bhagavad Gita.

Our idea was to go to the same spot where Krishna and Arjuna talked and read the Bhagavad Gita there.

Kurukshetra is about 3 hours drive time North of Delhi in the State of Haryana. We drove up in the afternoon, got some rooms. The next day after morning program we started our expedition. First stop was the Krishna Museum. This is a beautiful large building run by the Haryana State Government and contains art treasures depicting the life of Krishna. There are paintings, metalwork, stone sculptures, wood carvings, inlays, books, and more. It took over an hour to see everything. This is a place to remember for a future visit, because all we did was admire the artwork, there just was not time to read the descriptions of the major works. If we had done that, we would have spent the entire day at the museum. Even with only an hour it was very fulfilling and we felt that we had gotten a flavor of what one of the most influential figures in Indian history did and what his achievements inspired. We saw art work from each of the states of India and we saw representations from many of the time periods since Krishna was alive. If you are curious about Krishna, the single best place for the story of his life is the Srimad Bhagavatam.

Next we went to Brahm Sarovar. This is a man made lake that is built on the spot where Brahma stood when he created this universe. I know, I know, how could the creator stand anywhere before the creation was created? How could he have stood on THIS spot when it did not exist yet? What is the sound of one hand clapping? There are lots of conundrums on the Spiritual Quest, Grasshopper, and this be just one of the tiny ones. Nevertheless, we had to go there.

There are 3 spots I know of where Brahma supposedly created Vishwa, the material creation. Brahm Sarovar is one of them. It is incomparably beautiful. It is about 2 football fields wide and 6 football fields long, and as such is the largest open air tank in Asia. The water is very pure by American standards and is uniquely clean by Indian standards. Worship in this spot consists of putting on the bathing suit and going for a swim. Given that the temperature was over 90 degrees Fahrenheit, we were happy to perform our religious duties. We ‘worshipped’ for over a half hour and felt inwardly and outwardly refreshed by the experience. Lots of sadhus were around also bathing. People travel from all over India to bathe here. One of the traditions is that bathing washes away sins. People go to tirthas (ponds), gats (river docks), sangams (confluence of rivers), and bathe at auspicious times. All these are written up in the Vedic literature telling the merits to be obtained by taking bath at the appropriate time. The auspicious time for maximum benefit at Brahm Sarovar is during a solar eclipse. There was a solar eclipse a few weeks ago and I saw a photo in the newspaper of this huge place totally filled with people. The banks must have had people 20 deep, standing shoulder to shoulder. Must have been several million devotees. On the day we went there were probably a couple hundred people and the place was like a ghost town, that's how huge an expanse it is.

There is a 15th or 16th century woodcutting that reminds me of the flavor of Brahm Sarovar. Perhaps you've seen this famous image in books or magazines. It depicts an ordinary man on his knees in a barren field under an ordinary sky. His head has gone through some hole in the space-time continuum and the land on the other side is filled with celestial beings, planets & suns, glorious foliage. The man's face is filled with ecstasy. This woodblock has been used to depict the spiritual experience. If you pick up a book of Thomas Merton or St. Theresa of Avila, you are likely to see a photo of this image. We live in a mundane world, but when our consciousness is elevated sufficiently we can perceive a celestial world all around us that is wondrous and glorious. Saints and holy people from time immemorial have described this experience of living in the mundane while experiencing the celestial.

For most of us, the lure of the celestial is a quiet desire that we rarely speak out, but hope will someday bless our lives. We hope that someday, like that man in the woodcutting, we will perceive the divine all around us. There are some places on Earth where the veil between the mundane and the celestial is especially thin. Brahm Sarovar is one of those places. As I look out across the huge expanse of water, there is a faint mist rising up from the water that blurs the distant edges of the lake. The feeling in the air is euphoric. And I find myself peering intently into the distance. I look around me and observe my compatriots also glancing up from their immediate concerns to look off. What are we looking for? If challenged I would not at first be consciously aware that I was looking for anything. Then I would say that I did not know why I was looking or what I was looking for--I just found myself looking for something. It is as if the celestial is almost visible through the haze. Somehow, in someway, the subconscious recognizes that if ever I can see through to the divine level, it could be here. And so we find ourselves looking up from the swim to peer off into the distance, a look of expectation on our faces. Even on the mundane level, Brahm Sarovar is beautiful. I can only imagine what a celestial vision of the place must reveal.

Next we went down the road 3 km to Jyotisar where the legendary Banyan tree stands that shaded Krishna & Arjuna. This is where people believe the discourse that comprises the Bhagavad Gita took place. The battle field measures about 200 km long, and a lot happened during the 18 days of the war, and the event was over 5000 years ago, so this may or may not have been the exact spot. But the consensus of local opinion is that this is where it happened.

There are Banyan trees all around. We picked a nice shady spot and started reading Maharishi's Translation & Commentary of the Bhagavad Gita, Chapters 1-6. When we finished that, we switched to Annie Besant’s translation in order to complete all 18 chapters. It takes about 3 hours to read.

There were 3 dogs frisking near us. They took turns coming over and lying down with head facing us and sleeping while we read out loud. I was reminded of King Yudhisthira, eldest brother of the Pandavas. When it came time for the 5 brothers to pass out of this world, they started to hike up Mount Meru, abode of the Gods. One by one the brothers passed away. A small dog had taken to following them. Finally only Yudhisthira was left. He approached the gate to heaven and the watchman told him ‘No Dogs Allowed.’ Yudhisthira told him that the dog had loyally followed him this far, he could not abandon him now. A King never abandons his loyal subjects. This dog was the only follower he had left, could he please take the dog inside? The guard said, "No." So Yudhisthira refused to enter Heaven. The dog then transformed himself into Yama, the embodiment of Dharma, Yudhisthira's father, and told Yudhisthira that he had made the right decision and he should now enter heaven. These dogs reminded us of the story and it seemed like a good omen that they were there. They remained loyally with us for the entire 3 hour recitation of the Gita.

Reading the Bhagavad Gita is a fulfilling experience. Reading it at the spot where it was composed is a deeply satisfying event. We felt part of the history of this holy ground. We even seemed a part of the local legend as the local Indians gathered around us and silently stared at us while we read. Since they did not speak English, we do not know what they thought we were doing. Perhaps they heard the names of Krishna and Arjuna and were able to figure out what we were reading. Then again, maybe they were just looking. Does this morning's copy of the Kurukshetra newspaper have headlines saying, "Honkies Desecrate Holy Spot"? One of life's little mysteries.


Kathmandu, Varanasi, & Raj Prayag

LETTERS FROM INDIA

Varanasi

August 1998


Visa Renewal Trip to Kathmandu, Nepal

My one year visa to India expired. I had hoped that the Home Ministry in Delhi would grant me an extension. But they shot down the 20 plus applicants in front of me and did the same with me. My next option was to apply at the Indian Embassy in Nepal.

4 of my friends, professors at other B-Schools in India had to renew visas at the same time. For the 48 hours prior to departure, I expected email from the other guys telling me where to rendezvous with them, but no messages came. So it looked like I would do Nepal alone.

As soon as the passenger exits the front doors of the Kathmandu airport terminal, he is mobbed by dozens of touts representing hotels and taxis, or just wanting to carry your bags. Before going through the front doors, I surveyed the array of signs being waved on sticks promoting various hotels. I picked the name of a hotel given to me by a friend, then put my head down and walked slowly but firmly towards my target. There was shouting and shoving, hands grabbed at my luggage and arms. Once I got close enough to the tout representing my selected hotel, the hotel staff drove off the failed competitors and I was escorted to their van.

The next morning I started the 7-10 day application process and took lunch at one of the many Southern California style restaurants in the Thamel District of Kathmandu. Many American and European cuisines are represented there, started by ex-patriots. Thamel is the meeting ground for aging hippies who never surrendered their 60’s counter-culture revolutionary ideals, incredibly fit trekkers and mountain climbers, and college age people who were born 25 years too late to be flower children but yearn for the lifestyle. Thamel caters to the needs of this clientele:

-Trekking shops with the most sophisticated high-tech climbing gear available.

-Mountaineering guide services.

-Street people offering “smoke”, counterfeit Swiss Army knives, and Tiger Balm.

I arbitrarily decided to eat Mexican cuisine. The first Mexican restaurant I came to was the Northfield Cafe. It has an outdoor garden with tables and chairs set up around the trees and shrubs. I took a seat and 2 minutes later my friends walk in. Nature knows best how to organize.

The visa application takes 5 minutes to fill out, then a week or more to await approval. What to do in the interim? Kathmandu offers some nice stops along the path. Pashupatinath Mandir is a Shiva Linga temple of huge renown. The “Non-Hindus Not Allowed” rule is strictly enforced, but viewing this temple from the outside is a nice experience. There is a hill just across the Bagmati River that overlooks the temple. From it the visitor can see the huge doors of beaten silver and the silver roof. Usually a Shiva linga is a smooth oblong black stone. The Pashupatinath Linga has 4 faces and is swayumbudh, self-created.

The temple is surrounded by the usual assortment of vendors selling rudraksha, spartik malas (crystal necklaces), flower malas, brass water pots, sweets, etc.

My MBA students were very excited about my visit to Pashupatinath. “Sir! Sir! Bring us back some string!” At the mala shops strands of string in various colors are sold. After purchasing, the devotee takes it to the deity and the pundit on duty presses it to the statue and recites some shlokas. The string now contains the blessings of the Lord and is worn around the wrist or neck until it frays sufficiently to fall off. So, let’s see: 230 students, plus 20 faculty. “How much for 250 string?”

“5 rupees each, sir.”

“No, no. I want the Nepali price, not the American price.”

“This is good price, sir!”

“OK, see ya.”

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Rs 2”

“Sorry”

After several more haggles, finally I get the price the tour guide says is fair: “OK, Rs 1”

“OK, give me 3 whole bunches.”

On this my second trip to Nepal I discover “Singing Bowls”. One day I pass a street vendor with brightly polished metal bowls about 6” in diameter. They don’t look like stainless steel or brass.

“What are these?” I ask.

“Singing bowels. 5 metals.”

“Panch Loha?”

“Yes. Listen.”

The vendor takes a smooth wooden wand in one hand and rests the bowl in the other. He places the wand on the outside rim of the bowl and using a stirring motion rubs it around the circumference. After a few orbits a beautiful bell tone builds up. A few more orbits and it reaches a peak volume. Varying the angle and speed of the stirring motion produces different sounds. One way emits a clear high tone another emits simultaneous middle and low tones of hauntingly beautiful resonance.

Everywhere the western traveler goes he is greeted by very friendly Nepalis saying, “Namaste!” These folks then pitch an irresistible deal involving your rupees going into their hands. After awhile, we suspect “Namaste” is Nepali for “Gives us your rupees.”


Pokhara, Nepal

After a couple of days we have seen the mandirs, visited the Buddhist stupas, bought gifts for friends, and sampled the cuisine at Sausalito East. We decide to take the tour bus to Pokhara. Pokhara is the staging area for the Annapurna Mountain Range. The foothills immediately adjacent to town seem huge by Kathmandu standards; but these foothills seem like footstools to the enormous Himalayas just beyond them.

One of the nearby foothills is a 2200 meter peak called Sarankot. Our tour bus arrives at 2 PM. We eat a quick lunch and decide to try to reach the El Cheapo guest lodges near the top of Sarankot before 6 PM sundown. We depart at 2:45 PM and walk for a half hour before starting up the incline. Another half hour before the slope gets serious.

Painted markings on the rocks inform us how far to the top. We see we are at 2 hours. We are cutting it close. But decide to go for it.

3 locals are walking with us. They live 1/4 of the way from the top and offer to guide us to the top if we are too slow to get there before dark. The locals look like half Sherpa, half Guerka and all mountain goat. Even at a slow pace we are sweating and puffing; for them this walk is a yawner. The timings to the top are all in English, so we figure they are for the benefit of gringos like us. Despite numerous rest stops we hit the lodges at 5:45 PM.

We check into Didi’s Lodge. Didi is Hindi and Nepalese for “Big Sister”. Every woman and girl in both India & Nepal is called Didi by someone. Didi checks us in. The rooms are Spartan: concrete shell, corrugated tin roof, no running water, common toilet, hard mattress, no sheets, comforter and pillow.

We each take a room. Other rooms are occupied by a group of Europeans and a group of Japanese. When one of the other guests lights up a cigarette, we can immediately smell it. By 11 PM things settle down and we get some sleep.

Dawn is 6:30 AM. We arise at 6 AM and make the final ascent in the dark. As we reach the top we see a faint huge white something in the sky above us to the North. Gradually the sky gets lighter and we can discern the snow capped peaks of our gargantuan neighbors. According to Upanishadic and Puranic stories, mountains are the outward physical form of celestial beings with incredibly long life spans. Each of our neighbors seems to have a silent, powerful personality that makes it easy to believe that these are conscious entities.

Each night hundreds of trekkers, hippies, climbers, tour groups, and spiritual seekers fill the many lodges of Sarankot, then make the final climb to the top before dawn: Rush hour traffic in the Himalayas. By 8AM the crowd has descended for breakfast and our group elects to do our morning meditation program up here in the refined prana (pure air) of the mountains. We all enjoy extraordinary meditations that morning.

We descend to Pokhara and rent a canoe. We paddle out to the Varahi Mandir on a little island in Phewa Lake. Varaha is the Boar Incarnation of Vishnu. In another age, Earth had sunk low in the cosmic plane. Vishnu incarnated in the form of a boar, balanced the Earth on the tripod formed by his snout and 2 tusks, and lifted it up from the cosmic gloom into the light. Varaha is the 3rd of Vishnu’s 10 incarnations.

Next day we take the tour bus back to Kathmandu.

After 10 days of waiting, my approval for an Indian visa comes through, but not for the other guys. They go to the consulate and she approves them without confirmation. We silently wish she had just approved us the first day since telexed confirmation appeared not to be really needed. It seems that the Indian system is one of management by exception: the applicant fills out a form indicating home address; the application is telexed to the Indian Consulate nearest to that address; if the Consulate records show no problems with the applicant for visa renewal, the staff will either do nothing or telex back approval. In most cases they opt to send no messages. So if after a suitable length of time the Indian Embassy in Nepal receives no objections, it can assume the applicant is OK. Now we can return to India.


Varanasi, India

After we get our visas in Kathmandu we decide to return to our colleges via Varanasi. Varanasi is the ancient name for the city the Mogul’s named Banaras. It is also known by its Vedic name, Kashi. It is Shiva’s city. Legend has it that this city is never destroyed, not even at the end of each cycle of creation. Kashi is said to sit on the middle fork of Shiva’s trishul, trident. Archeologists think it is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. Its unbroken history goes back before the Roman Empire, before the founding of Rome, before the Acropolis of Athens, before the Egyptians built the Sphynx and Pyramids at Gaza. The philosophies and culture are the same now as then: Brahmin pundits still chant the Veda, seekers and enlightened still make their pilgrimages here, people of all castes make their final journeys here to die and be burned at the smashan, cremation grounds, on the East side of town. Banaras is a happening place.

Varanasi is more Indian than the rest of the country. The myriad of densely packed pathways winding their way through the city, the overpopulation, the Hindu temples and Moslem mosques all contribute to a culture that is very Indian.

Varanasi is a flash point. The Shri Kashi Vishwanath Mandir is virtually an armed encampment. Indian soldiers surround the mandir (Hindu temple) and the masjid (Moslem mosque) next door. In the last 1000 years Kashi Vishwanath has been destroyed 4 times and mosques built on each of the predecessors. The current Kashi Vishwanath is mandir #5; the mosque next door sits on site #4. Each access to the mandir and mosque has metal detectors and soldiers armed with shining automatic rifles with large ammo clips.

The evening of my arrival in Varanasi, Dr. Larry Geeslin, a colleague of mine working in Lucknow, and I go for a walk. He is a veteran of 4 previous trips to Kashi, and has studied Diana Eck’s superb book, Banaras, City of Light.

We walk 2 blocks to Dasashwamedha Ghat. Dasashwamedha is where a king performed 10 Horse Sacrifices. A devotee taking bath at this spot is said to gain the same benefit as performing 10 Horse Sacrifices.

The path spreads out to 30 meters wide with a railing in the middle and becomes steps leading down to the shore. Each step has a shabbily dressed old man or woman lying there. “These are beggars who have come from all over India to die in Varanasi and thus obtain final liberation,” Larry tells me. “A fund has been established to pay for their cremation services.”

We turn left, North, at the river and head downstream on Mother Ganga. The Ganges runs Southeast through most of India, but a bend in the river bed has it running North here Varanasi. This is supposed to be very auspicious. Just as in Jyotish, Indian astrology, a Graha (planet) moving retrograde (reverse of its usual path) through a Bhava (house) conveys special significance, so does a river temporarily reversing its course signify auspiciousness. For many reasons, Banaras is considered blessed.

After about 10 minutes Larry points ahead to some bonfires far up ahead. “Those fires have been lit continuously for thousands of years. They are the funeral pyres of Manikarnika Ghat.”

A strange thrill runs through me. In the West, the dead are buried. Christians believe that at the end of creation, all the bodies of everyone who ever lived will return to life and then stand before the Son of God for judgment. Burial is the accepted norm. It is considered the “decent thing to do.” I am familiar with it. Cremation is unfamiliar to me. It is strange. Images of animal flesh barbecued on an open fire come unbidden to my mind. After seeing so much death and destruction on the 6 O’Clock News for so many years, am I capable of being shocked? Do I feel a faint twinge of horror?

We walk forward. 3 fires are burning. I do not see charred remains of human bodies. All I see are large fires. I do not smell roasted flesh. I smell the sweet odor of chandanam, sandalwood.

Pilgrims bathe in the Ganges before sunrise. I get up before dawn and head to the river. Hundreds of boats are already filled, boatmen rowing tour groups up and down stream. Indians are bathing and brushing their teeth in the refuse laden river water.

I walk up to Manikarnika Ghat. In the dawning light the fires seem so homey. Logs of freshly cut sandalwood 1 foot thick by 7 feet long are criss-crossed to a height of about 3 feet. As the fires burn, the wood and ashes are swept closer together until it resembles small campfire. The entire ghat is clean and fresh smelling.

There is a nice small Shiva Mandir overlooking the ghat. The old Brahmin who tends it is indifferent to my presence. From there I catch site of western tourists approaching the smashan, cremation grounds, with looks of horror on their faces. Feeling a little smug with my few minutes more experience I am faintly amused at their undisguised repugnance.

The Doms are a caste of people who have conducted the cremation services for thousands of years. The whole time I was at the smashan, I did not ever see anything that shocked my western sensibilities. The bodies are carried on a palanquin born by 4 of the Doms. The body is wrapped head-to-toe in a thick shroud, usually encrusted with gold brocade. First stop is submersion in the Ganga. Then it is placed on the pyre of wood, more wood placed on top, and ignited. It takes 200 kg of wood for one cremation. By the time the shroud burns, the remains are indistinguishable from the kindling. Everything appears normal and natural. From dust we come, to dust we return. It takes 4 hours to burn the physical remains.

In his book Aghora, at the Left Hand of God, Robert E. Svaboda describes how the Aghora yogis perform sadhana, spiritual practices, at the smashan in order to remind themselves of the ephemeral nature of this body. Bodies are not built to last. After watching a few turn to dust, the watcher realizes the evanescence of the body. There is something more to this life than the concerns of the material, there is something permanent and eternal to life and it lies deep within the transcendent. It is consciousness itself.

The feeling of the place is one of peaceful dynamism. A constant stream of mourners and tourists passes through, the Doms are busy carting firewood, the merchants are selling shrouds and sandalwood powder, and the pandits are performing services. All is orderly and active, yet serene and peaceful.

Several years ago I went to a Des Moines, Iowa cemetery to pay my respects to a college buddy of mine who had passed away. I mentally said a few words of farewell, but they seemed superfluous. So I sat and meditated for a few minutes. I left both the Varanasi smashan and the Des Moines cemetery feeling a sense of fullness and completion. Life has purpose. Death of the body is not death of the soul. Rather, death of the body is merely a transition from one form of existence to another.

The first stop in Varanasi is supposed to be the Kala Bhairav Mandir. Bhairav is the terrible aspect of Shiva. All of the rest of creation has Yama as the God of Death. In Kashi, Yama is forbidden to enter and Bhairav fulfills the function of judge and executioner. Going to Bhairav’s temple is like checking in with the magistrate or police when you first enter a city. The Bhairav Mandir is deep in the old city. The streets are only 2 to 3 meters wide. They are filled with children, cows, whizzing motor scooters, and beggars. Everywhere you go are small shops fronting on the pathway with a vendor seated on a mat looking out. Customers look into the shop, usually only 1 meter deep and point to what they want. The buildings on either side of the narrow paths are several stories high and run continuously without break. This plunges the walkways in a perpetual gloom. The paths are intricate. It requires questioning locals at every turn and fork to find the Kala Bhairav Mandir.

According to Hindu belief, when a person drops the body, he is judged by Yama’s jurisprudence operation. His bad karma earns him severe punishments in various hells. When he finishes his penance, he goes to the heavens to enjoy the fruits of his good actions. When his good merit is exhausted he reincarnates for another go around. However, if a person is lucky enough to die in Kashi, he receives a much more intense torture at the hands of Lord Bhairav, but the duration of punishment is much shorter, and, here’s the kicker, he doesn’t need to come back. Moksha. Liberation. Final emancipation from the cycle of rebirths. Despite the intimidating reputation of Lord Bhairav, the elderly pujari greets us warmly.

Now that we’ve checked in with the top cop in town, we are free to explore his city. Our first job is to find our way out of the labyrinth. It takes us 45 minutes and frequent stops for directions to go less than a mile to the nearest major street. I suspect that Bob Dylan wrote “All Along the Watch Tower” after having visited Varanasi: “There must be some kinda way outa here / said the beggar to the thief / there’s too much confusion / I can’t get no relief.”

The Golden Temple, Shri Kashi Vishwanath, is another “Non-Hindus Not Allowed” temple; but unlike Nepal, the issue is negotiable. We stop in to see the CEO of the temple foundation. We are permitted to enter the mandir. It is a smallish temple for one so famous and controversial. In 5 minutes we have paid our respects to the culture.

Across the path and down a few meters is a very dark alcove. In the darkest corner of that alcove is a black backdrop with a small silver mask seeming to float above the ground at eye level. On the floor are tiny flames rising above small ghee lamps with an iron ring in each. This is a Shani Mandir. People who have difficulties in their Jyotish chart with delays, lameness, infirmity, or low station in life come here to propitiate Saturn. Each of us drops Rs 2 for a ghee lamp.

We next pay our respects to Kashi Karavar. It and Manikarnikeshvara are mandirs where the visitor enters from ground level, then looks down a deep well to see the Shiva Linga 2 or 3 stories below. Devotees are not permitted near the Linga, only the Brahmin priests officiating at the mandir can get close to their god.

Next we visit Siddhi Vinaayak, a Ganesh that grants the Sidhis, super-normal abilities. It is an orange-painted abstract representation of the elephant-headed, human-bodied deity that removes obstacles. Some mandirs have deities that are so well wrought that they appear to be works of art. But they are not art works. To followers of santaanam dharma, the Hindu faith, these objects are a physical manifestation of the deity. Not a representation, not a substitute, but the actual god. Some of the idols are very abstract, unformed, even deformed crude approximations. This Ganesh is one of these. No raiding conquerors will steal this deity to take back to a foreign capital, no concern necessary that precious gems and metals will be removed from it. Yet to his worshippers, this icon is a powerful manifestation of God.

After several hours of finding our way along dim streets, we need some sun and fresh air. So we head for the Ganges and hire a boat to paddle us around for awhile. The view is magnificent. Incredibly ancient buildings, the first 2 stories are sheer rock that protect against the annual flooding. The ubiquitous satellite dish antennas top most buildings giving an odd contrast of antiquity and modernity.

The Sangam at Allahabad

There is something subtly alluring about Varanasi. I feel like I could come back here again and again yet not grow tired of its variety. But after 4 days it is time to move on.

I am making my way back to Delhi via train. Next stop is Allahabad. Allahabad contains one of the 4 Khumbha Mela sites of India. It is located at the confluence (sangam) of the Ganges, Yamuna and the now dried up Saraswati Rivers.

Larry and I get a boat to take us across to the mela grounds. We stop midstream for the ritual bath in the sangam. Hundreds of people are bathing from small boats at the confluence of the 2 visible rivers: the deep green Yamuna and the muddy brown Ganges. As the 2 rivers flow together the distinction between the 2 streams remains very visible. Many of the guidebooks state that this sangam at Allahabad is the most auspicious bathing spot in India. The pre-Moghul name of Allahabad was Raj Prayag or Prayag Raj, that is, King of the Sangams.

Every year a small mela is held in Jan.-Feb. with approximately half a million people attending. Every 6 years is an Ardha Mela of about 5 million people, and every 12 years is the Khumbha Mela of 12 million people. January to April of 2000 is the Mahakhumba Mela that occurs once every 144 years. It is expected that over 20 million people will attend.

Think of a state fair dedicated to spiritual matters. Every philosophy, creed, sect, guru, swami, baba, and procedure for attaining God realization is represented here. Mela-goers come from all over India to sample experience of the divine.

India has 4 melas, each located where the nectar of immortality spilled when the devas and the asuras struggled to possess the Amrit Kalash. The largest of these 4 sites is located in Allahabad. (The others are Nasik, Ujjain and Haridwar)

Also near the mela grounds is one of the residences of the Shankaracharya of Jyotir Math. The current Shankaracharya is a few years younger than I am. Larry wants to drop by his ashram and pay our respects. I am having difficulty imagining someone of my generation attaining the erudition and consciousness necessary to achieve recognition as the standard bearer for intellectual and experiential mastery of the Veda. What would I say to him? Fortunately for my spiritual deportment, the Shankaracharya is out of station and I don’t have to contend with the social niceties for dealing with saints.