Puri Phantoms

The warm smile of Lord Jagannatha

On Wednesday 19^th I caught a 28 hour train from Tirupati to Puri where I  came face to face with  some phantoms  that surfaced without warning, as they do.

About 10 hours from Puri I noticed my contact lens case had disappeared from beside my head where I was asleep on an upper berth. The possibility of this happening had been one of my greatest fears for this journey. They had fallen to the berth below and someone took them. Both lens in their case, gone. For those of you who don’t know I’m as blind as a bat and have worn lens for 30 years. I also stupidly have no glasses. I am about -8 in both eyes which means the world disappears to a more impressionistic blur than Monet ever contemplated.

After about 5 minutes of desperate, futile, searching with concerned passengers  I finally crawled back to my berth for the remaining 10 hour train journey beset with  panic,  utter disbelief and  incapacity to imagine what to do. How could God do this to me ????????

To avert further panicked thoughts and over-whelming fears, I somehow shut down all further contemplation of my situation and channelled my frantic mental energy into devouring the Ramyana, by RK Narayan which I had picked up in Mamallapuram. Losing myself in the trials of Rama and Sita helped me appreciate that I was not the only one to be faced with a difficult struggle; and the heroism of all the characters, Jatayu, Hanuman, Tara, Lakshman, Sita and Rama also helped put things somehow in perspective. Temporarily at least.

Having finished that book I had an interesting experience. One that halted my rampaging elephant mind from doing further damage with its terrifying images of the  impossibility of  survival.  It was an experience  born perhaps of shock – although I prefer to think a touch of Divine kindness.

I  felt myself withdrawing deep within to a calm place with only me and a sense of a Divine other – which most people call God, but I’m trying to be sophisticated. Maybe it’s all the temples, all the blessings I have received from priests and sadhus, or just that atmosphere of possibility that prevades India, but there I was going all spiritual on a train, and happy for it.

Although its difficult to describe my calm place, it had a strong sense of self  separate from the external reality……as if the whole world turned inside out and I felt more ‘real’ and protected and peaceful than before.

It felt clear too if I stayed in this ‘reality’ all would be well. Everything else would follow and I would take everything one step at a time and think of nothing else. It was a very interesting transition and somehow it froze everything into a ‘now’ and a sense of myself totally separate from my circumstance. Simply going through some motions.

However as we arrived in Puri on the 20^th about 4 pm,  fear rose again and mypeaceful cocoon dissolved as a different reality awaited on the over-crowded platform.  I got out of the train forcing myself to think only of three things:

1) Find the exit….follow the crowd.

2) Look for the colour yellow. It’ll be a rickshaw

2) Say the name of a Hotel.

On the platform a swarm of faceless rickshaw wallas engulfed me, blocking my way and I did not know which direction to take. Panic started to rise again and being the gentle type  I am not, fear turned to anger,  and I am ashamed to say the first words I uttered in the Holy Dhama of Puri were:  #*&!!@&%$##!!!

As soon as I heard myself , I saw the unnecessary excess of my response, and apologised to Lord Jagannath, but at least it energised me. Having got directions for the exit I marched towards a yellow thing, grateful for daylight and the brightness of colour it afforded, and got myself to a Hotel for the night.

That done…it just became a matter of shaving my whole reality down to acceptance of my situation and outlining the steps needed to deal with it.

I slept well that night, intrigued with my circumstance and my responses to it and no longer fearful of the situation. I felt I had been put into my ‘nightmare’ to find the presence of the Divine in a place that by its very nature, bans that presence.

It felt like a chance to face my fears, and depend on Krishna. Not that there was a whole lot else I could do since the whole world of perception had become porridge, but in terms of attitude it made an incredible difference.

Next morning I managed to take a bus to Bhubaneshwara, get a rickshaw to an Optician…and three hours later had a pair of high-optic glasses that brought the external world back again.  Three hours can you believe it ? Only in India!

So in under 24 hours I learned that nightmares are often the phantasmagoria of an athletic mind  and that the reality of  ‘forms and shapes and colours’  is not the only picture.

A few further little embellishments to the whole experience was the fact that as soon as I entered the optician even I could see the smiling face of a huge  Lord Jagannath on top of a T.V. – and he seemed to be smiling at me. An encouraging welcome and reassurance that all would be well.

Then in the rickshaw I caught immediately after being told they could have them ready in three hours, there was a whole panel of Jaganatha, Baladeva and Subhadra smiling at me from the front panel of the auto-rickshaw.

And finally, as an encouraging reminder of the Queen of blindness herself, Gandhari in the Mahabharata, the Hotel I ended up in was Hotel Gandhara. ( Of course, technically the linguistic relationship here is in doubt, but I’m blind to that, taking encouragment where I can).

By the end of the day, it mattered nothing to me that I would not be allowed in to the Jagannatha temple the next day to see the deity – being a white-face. I felt I had already been caught up in his broad smile and that his  huge staring eyes understood  short-sightedness in all its forms.

 

Krishna the Patriotic Avatar

Friday 14th past was the festival of Krishna’s birthday, or Janmashtami and yesterday, Saturday 15th, was Independence Day.  Hindu tradition is well known for its ability to reinvent itself, or to re-adapt its teachings according to time, place and circumstance.

However a  Chennai newspaper today revealed an interpretation that perhaps stretched theology a bit to meet the challenge of merging the two celebrations.

The caption reads: The Independence Day, which came close on the heels of Krishna Jayanthi, was celelbrated in religious fervour. An image of Lord Krishna hoisting the national flag was made in the city on Saturday.

 

Mumbai and Four Seasons In One Day

Arrived in Mumbai on 2^nd August around 8 a.m (19 hours from Dwarka). Having decided to fly to Madurai the following morning, I booked into the ISKCON guesthouse, close by the airport, in the upmarket Juhu Beach end of town and there began my Four Seasoned day with the ‘Winter of my discontent’.

My back, a tad unco-operative during my trip to date, finally gave out  in Mumbai. I lay like a limpet on the marble floor, agonizing over stabbing pain and the ill-fortune of having cracked up in the most expensive accommodation to date.  Fell asleep for four hours and woke up unimproved. Attempts at yoga and back exercises were useless so finally I resolved to force myself up and out to see if movement might help.

'Winter' on Juhu Beach

Amazing how health colours vision so deeply. Hobbling towards Juhu beach I felt appreciation for little and resentment at much. Noise…pollution…population, poverty, and pestering male attention seemed to over-shadow all else. Reaching the ocean all I could feel was pain, and see, was the rubbish and crowds on the beach and I had no idea how I could carry on. Pain doesn’t allow much room for desire or imagination other than it’s relief and what is called happiness seemed clearly just relief from some kind of pain. How easy to forget that good health alone is reason enough to be perfectly happy and grateful all daylong.

Getting a back-brace seemed like a plan but the thought of jarring my back in a taxi or rickshaw over bumpy roads in a search of a specialist store put paid to that.

Then the ‘Rainy Season’ began. The darkened sky unleashed a downpour and I stood in at what turned out to be a tiny  medical store. While sheltering I asked the shop keeper if he knew where I could find a back brace.This is when Spring arrived, awakening fresh hope and rekindling possibilities.  I began to love India all over again for all it wonderful impossibilities.

“What size madam” he said while stooping beneath a battered old counter and producing three sizes of my imagined back-brace. There in that beaten up little box- shop I stepped out after the rain, with backbrace in place, feeling the colours flood back into life. It was nothing short of miraculous and continues to be today.

Summer arrived that night when by a serendipitous encounter I met a man in theatrical costume who told me he was part of a performance at the ISKCON Auditorium that evening. I immediately booked a ticket and Summer ended my four-seasoned day with the most creative, colourful and extra-ordinarily beautiful dance production of  Krishna’s pastimes from the Bhagavata Purana. I sat the whole way through., pain-free, mesmerised by the sensual inundation of colour, song, music and movement  and incredibly grateful at my good fortune.

A thing of beauty is a joy...

An Explosion of Colour

I caught my flight to Madurai next morning not thinking of the journey ahead, but rather marvelling at the four-seasoned transitions of my mind  within just one single day!

 

Dwarka

Dwarkadish Temple

Arrived in Dwarka around 7.30 am on Fri 31^st July. Dwarka is beautiful with the crashing Arabian Ocean greeting the Gomati river at their confluence on the western tip of the Gujarat peninsula.

The city is one of the Saptapuris (seven holy cities) of India (others include Ayodhya, Mathura, Haridwar, Varanasi, Ujjain, and Kanchipuram). It  is also one of the four holy dhamas (others being Rameshvaram, Puri, and Badrinath) and pilgims flock to bathe here and take darshan of Dwarkadish (Lord of Dwarka) in the famous 5 story high 16^th century  temple. The original temple is said to have been built by Vajranabha (great-grandson of Krishna) and the inner sanctum of the temple is said to date back over 2500 years.

Most famous for being Krishna’s capital city, Dwarka was totally submerged by rising sea levels and today archaeological  excavations indicate that it was built on four (some say five) former cities. When I arrived much of the surrounding low-lying areas were flooded by heavy rains and it was easy to imagine a total inundation here.

When bathing  at one of the many ghats (steps down to the river) the swell of the waves rolling in from the sea meant jumping up and hanging on to a rail at the same time. Still lots of lovely salty water in the lungs nonetheless.

Bathing Ghats at the Gomati river and ocean confluence.

There is a small temple to Samudra (literally meaning ‘ocean’ the right at the tip of the confluence where waves crash high against its back wall.

Samudra Temple

There was no internet café in Dwarka. Actually there was, but the owner was in London at the time so it was closed. People here were very kind and despite being the only white person in town it was a hassle free place and I left the following day on a train bound for Mumbai feeling refreshed and uplifted.

 

Greetings From Nathdwar

Sri Nathji

Arrived in Nathdwar this morning at 8.30 am having travelled from Ajmer to Udaipur over night and two hours from Udaipur to Nathdwar this  morning.

This is the hometown of Sri Nathji, one of the most popular deities of Krishna in India. The deity is said to have been originally installed by Vajranabha, Krishna’s great-grandson about 5000 years ago and is depicted holding Govardhana Hill  He was rediscovered about 500 years ago and worshipped on Govardhana Hill before old Aurangzeb, still afflicted by CTSD (Compulsive Temple-Smashing -Disorder) caused him to be moved to Mewar first and then to Nathdwar around 1669.

The priests of the temple are followers of Vallabhyacarya (1479) and despite its  simple architectural style, the temple is said to be the second richest in India, after the Balaji temple in Tirupati.

I managed to make two darshans this morning and sit in with a group of local ladies preparing vegetables in the temple courtyard. The temple is packed at these times with everyone endearingly running in high spirits to see and be seen by him. Understandably no photos were allowed anywhere inside the beautiful simple homestead style temple.

Being the only Gauri (white one) there that day I received handfuls of blessings from all the ladies to send me on my tirtha yatra way stuffed with maha prasadam (food offered to the deities.)

I leave for Amedebad at 2pm and from there will travel overnight to Dwarka.

 

Amber

Amber Fort

I spent most of my second day in Jaipur in Amber (11 kms from Jaipur) with its magnificent fort situated high on a hill. Formerly the capital of Jaipur state and the Rajput princes the fort today was initially a palace complex which stood within the earlier Jaigarh fort(11^th century). Its construction began under the reign of Maharaj Man Singh, Commander in Chief of Akbar’s army in 1592.

Apparently earlier history records that Amber was originally built by the Meenas in the town they consecrated to Amba, the Mother Goddess, whom they knew as `Gatta Rani’ or `Queen of the Pass’. This connection with the Goddess is still there and there is a beautiful marble Kali temple at the entrance. A goat was sacrificed daily here right up until 1980.

Multi-Tasking Family - The man wears the helmet in this family

On the busy and winding road to Amber we were over taken by a whole family on a moped. Not only were they all chatting away together, but they were also eating ice cream and passing roasted corn-on-the cobs around as they whizzed by. It was amazing. I love this about India. At home, you would be told it can’t be done,  and for legal, health and safety reasons you would not be allowed to do it. (It is legal for the driver to wear a helmet, but not for the passengers.)  Here such skillful driving is normal and I love the freedom that taking your own life in your hands affords.

The day was relaxed with refreshing breezes and cloud –cover and we ambled around the little village at the foot of the hill exploring its Jain and Hindu temples.Most impressive was the priest who took care of the deities  at the Jagat Shiromani Temple, also known as Mirabai’s temple. The Krishna deity there is said to that of Mirabai the celebrated devotional Rajput  medieval princess. The pujari, priest, spent ages meticulously polishing and decorating Krishna with face paint and yet he had time when he had finished to welcome us with great kindness and give us maha prasad.

Pujari to Mirabai's Krishna Deity

I left feeling Mirabai was not alone in her exceptional devotion to her Lord.

Priest to Mirabai's Krishna

 

Festival Time

On my last night in Vrindavan (Fri 24th) I was lucky enough to catch the start of the festival of Jhulan Yatra, the Radha Krishna swing festival at the famous Banke Bihari Temple, the most popular temple in Vrindavan.

Every year at this time the deities are put on a swing and bedecked with flowers. Some temples allow worshippers to participate in this festival by pulling the swing with a rope. Unfortunately no photos were allowed, but you can see the throne without the deities on their webpage photo gallery here

The temple was a forest of flowers and greenery and packed with pilgrims.The ornate golden throne on which the deity was swung was strewn with hundreds of garlands and everybody seemed intoxicated with the sheer delight of being there. Contagious stuff and a really uplifting send off from Vrindavan.

Next morning took the 6 hour bus journey to Jaipur. As we set off the whole bus sang songs to Banke bihari. That was the only word I understood. Seems they were a whole community or village who had travelled from Jaipur for the festival.I like travelling on buses as it offers more insight into life here than a taxi. And even though I unfortunately speak no Hindi, the language of travellers is universal. The sharing of food, water and space along with the non-verbal language of gesture and expression forge a comfortable camaraderie that doesn’t need words. I like this.

I arrived in Jaipur at midday was met by a friend who lives there and off we went zipping through city traffic on her moped. After a wash and change we were lucky enough to catch the annual festival of Teej, the festival for married ladies.

The deity of Parvati (wife of Shiva) is taken out on the streets preceded by a fabulous procession of Rajasthani colour, splendour and pomp.On this day married women pray for the well-being of their husbands and their marriage.We had a birds eye view from the roof-top of a temple.

Rajasthani dancers - the birds eye view

Elephants Everywhere

Festive Bulls

Parvati in procession

Parvati up close, although not so close that you can really see her

In the evening we zipped around the city on the scooter to catch the Julan Yatra celebrations at three temples whose original deities were transferred to Jaipur from Vrindavan for safe-keeping from Aurangazeb in the 17^th century . He’s the Mughal Emperor most famous among Hindus for smashing temples and desecrating deities.

Scooting in Jaipur

These temples are those established by the celebrated Goswamis of Vrindvan, the Govindaji Temple, Radha Damodar Temple and the Radha Gopinatha Temple. We also visited another small temple, Radha Vinod temple with beautiful flower mandala decorations on the floor.

Flower Mandala

Jaipur is beautiful. It seemed yesterday too to be filled with festivities….the festival of Teej on the streets and Jhulan Yatra in all the Krishna Temples. It was a tsunami of colourful celebration and I couldn’t have wished for a better introduction to the city.

Below is a youtube clip of evening worship at the Govindaji temple.  The enthusiasm of the crowds, the simplicity and sweetness of their chanting, and the welcoming informality of it all made for perfect endings to humid, bustling days in Jaipur

 

Govardhana Hill

Govardhana Hill

I went on a carikrama ( that is parikrama by car and not on foot) to Govardhana last Monday. A parikrama is about 23 kilometres and takes about 5 to 6 hours to complete at a brisk pace. I preferred the travel-stop-and-linger mood the car enabled this time.

Govardhana Hill features most famously in the 10th book of the Bhagavata Purana where he (everything is personified in these stories) stars in the story of Krishna lifting him as an umbrella to protect the citizens of Vraja from torrential rain sent by an envious Indra.

The Bhagavat Purana writes:

Of all the devotees, this Govardhana Hill is the best! Of my friends, this hill supplies Krishna and Balaram, along with their calves,cows and cowherd friends, with all kinds of necessities-water for drinking,very soft grass,caves,fruits,flowers and vegetables.In this way the hill offers respects to thee Lord.Being touched by the lotus feet of Krishna and Balaram, Govardhana Hill appears very jubilant.‘ B.P 10.21.18

Theology aside, the recognition of the dependence we all have on nature with its bountiful and life sustaining offerings is appealing in todays climate of ecological catastrophe. The idea of reciprocal respect and co-existence reverberates throughout the Hindu scriptures and our Govardhan visit offered a refreshing alternative to more impersonal and exploitative considerations of the natural world.

Govardhan is about an hours drive fromVrindavan and before setting out on our walk we bathed in two beautiful lakes or kunds, Radha- Kund and Shyama -Kund considered sacred lakes to devotees of Krishna.

Radha Kund

Reverential Geese

Seems like we got some blessings since what might have been a walk in the searing sand and heat, turned out to be the coolest day so far. Dark clouds, rolling thunder and cooling breezes framed our pilgimage and we saw peacocks, Nilagais (meaning ‘blue cow’) a type of antelope, electric green parrots, monkeys galore, cows and buffalos.

Nilagai, the 'blue cows' of Govardhana

Pilgrims construct little houses all along the flank of the hill to house prayers, to have ones home blessed, or in some sense to reside here long after leaving. I built a little OCHS, very similar to the one in Oxford and impressed at least one resident with my architectural flair.

The Govardhan branch of the OCHS

Some pilgrims circumnambulate Govardhan over several weeks by daily performing prostrations all around the hill. They mark with a stone each arm extension and proceed with the next prostration from there. It is called dandavat parikrama. I thought a pilgrimage in Ireland up a mountain(Croach Patrick) in bare feet was something but so far this takes the biscuit. Sorry, the digital camera just missed the ‘down’ moment.

Dandavat Parikrama

 

Arts and Crafts

Still in Vrindavan and plan to leave now on Saturday 25th. My back has seized up a bit from sleeping directly under a full-power fan…so ironically in this heat I’m treating it with Tiger balm, a fiery emollient to treat stiffened muscles.

In any case, now I walk with a little less Celtic bouncy pace and with the heat to also slow me down I am shocked to recognise that even I have gained some  semblance of the grace and elegance with which everyone walks over here. That lovely languid gait and the whole rhythm of life here is so intimately linked to the weather.

Rice Lady

Next time I buy rice for an OCHS Wednesday lunch I’m going to try this on the Cowley road! Such graceful yet practical skill. The man below was an equally graceful porter who simply moved his banana business to the shade when the heat went up.

The Mobile Banana Company

But the art of walking is not the only skill that impresses. Everywhere I look there’s someone with a talent to  marvel at back home, yet who just blend with the landscape of faces over here.

There are countless bead-makers who provide for a whole range of japa-malas or strings of prayer beads for  different traditions. The favoured Vaishnava bead is made from the sacred Tulasi plant which seems to be the speciality of this craftsman.

Mala Maker

A couple of days ago I met a young man who gave me directions to Imlitala where Pishima lives. He looked like a million other young men here with nothing to distinguish him from every other rick shaw walla around, and yet when I saw him again he was painting a beautiful bas relief of Radha and Krishna beside a newly constucted temple at Imlitala.

There is really no way of telling who I’m dealing with over here. So many amazing people with little to advertise their craft, skill, asceticism or devotion. Mind you that’s the thinking behind the Hindu teaching  of respect for all living beings. On a more theological level, it teaches that we have in fact no idea who we are dealing with, in terms of the real self/soul’s journey, the hidden story of a person’s life what to speak of the hidden journey of many lifetimes that karma and reincarnation dictate.

Respect is a consequence of recognising at least in theory, the spiritual nature of all life and also the safest way to avoid misjudging someone through ignorance of the bigger picture.

Radha and Krishna in bas relief

Speaking of Radha and Krishna, I met another man known to all as Tapan who has a small little workshop here where he designs and sews outfits for Temple deities throughout Vrindavan. He has developed such a reputation for his creative designs and impeccable work that he is in demand internationally with people coming to Vrindavan from far and wide to have a ‘Tapan’ piece of work.

Tapan - haute culture for deities

He has been sewing for 35 years and running his own workshop for 25 years. He hails from a Vaishnava family with his grandfather an artist in Orissa. It was his father who turned from painting to sewing and taught Tapan all he knows. Today the whole family can sew and he hopes to expand his workshop when he has trained his sons to his standard of expertise.

The Sewing Family - a family that sews together grows together - to coin a phrase

His son works with him in his workshop and as is usual everywhere here there is an altar at the centre  of activities as he says himself “to remind him that this is’ seva’ or a devotional service to Krishna, but also to bless him with a profitable business. Not too heavenly minded to be of no earthly use and it seems his puja and prayers have been answered. In his house he has a a temple room in which he offers prayers every morning before the business day starts.

Radha Krishna, Kali, Ganesh and Laksmi

Family work shop

 

Lessons from two old ladies

Have spent the past four days dividing my day between two old ladies close to leaving this world. One is a Bengali lady who is over a hundred years old and the other lives at a Goshalla or cow santuary.

The Bengali lady, Prabhavati, or Pishima as she is affectionately called, has been a widow since she was 24 years of age. She married and lost her husband in the same year. She has no children and came to Vrindavan from Bengal shortly after that to  live  as a renunciant  spending her days visiting temples, in prayer or kirtan, or doing ‘seva’ or service at her temple .

Vrindavan has many widows ashrams, some of which have had bad press for the enforced chanting of prayers before they are fed amongst else. Deepa Mehta’s film “Water’ didn’t do much for the reputation of widows either.

Mother Pishima, Vrindavan Sadhu

However Pishima offers a more positive picture of widowhood. She has led a very happy life as a devout Vaishnava in Vrindavan and in these final stages of her life she has many friends who love and care for her. She’s quite a celebrity figure, with many priests and senior religous figures coming to visit her to receive her blessings. She cannot speak or walk, but she lives right beside a temple at a place called Imlitala and can listen to all the temple kirtans from her bed.

I am very happy she likes a head massage  and so that is where I spend my mornings these days.

Then on my route back to my room, I pass through a Goshalla  and spend some time with a very old cow who has only days to live.By some stroke of good fortune  the drinking water bottle I brought from the U.K.  has a squeezy top on it that allows me, and others to squirt water down her throat. The only other way she can drink is by being hoisted up on a pully-contraption which is very uncomfortable on her skeletal frame.

Old Mother Cow

Anyway I am happy to have two little services to do here. The returns are so much greater. It seems Vrindavan is teaching me lessons  from the later stages of life.

Hindu teaching is that time ravages only the outward frame that the self or soul inhabits. That is the explanation given for the tension between how we feel and how we look as time goes by.  Looking into the eyes of  Pishima and the old cow an extraordinary vitality meets me that belies the decrepid condition of both.In the Bhagavad Gita Krishna teaches this immortality of the real self to Arjuna and explains that the wise who know this live lives of devotion to Krishna.

W.B Yeats in his poem, Sailing to Byzantium puts it well:

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress

It seems to me when I look into the eyes of these two old ‘matas’ or mothers as they are called, that Pishima and the old cow are clapping!