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.